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padawanlost · 4 years ago

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Hey love your content.

Just wanted to ask you something. There's a claim I've seen coming up in fandom a few times now that Obi Wan knew Luke would bring his father back to the light and redeem him. That he even planned as much and this is supposedly evidenced by his not killing Vader in A New Hope and telling Luke to face Vader but not kill him in Return of the Jedi

I'm not convinced, but can you offer a more conclusive answer rebuttal or whatever.

I’ll be honest with you, this is the first time I’ve ever heard such theory so I’ve no idea where it came from or what arguments are being used to support it. All I can show you is the OT itself. The movies make pretty clear that Obi-wan and Yoda were preparing Luke to kill Darth Vader, and that Anakin’s return was something considered impossible until that point.

Because I don’t keep track of DisneySW, all the evidence I provided is strictly based on the original canon, as developed by George Lucas. So if Disney retconned something, I won’t be able to help :)

That being said, that theory doesn’t make much sense to me, sorry. For Anakin’s redemption to be part of some Obi-wan’s master plan, the character would have to have an impossible foresight into everyone’s involved past and future. For Obi-wan to be able to manipulate people and events to push Anakin’s into going back to light, he would first have to understand why Anakin fell in the first place. And if there’s one thing Episode III makes painfully obvious is that Obi-wan was nowhere near Coruscant when Anakin made his fatal decision, nor was he aware of the circumstances that led him to it. Everyone who knew what truly went down were either dead or his new worst enemies.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at Obi-wan’s (alleged) ‘master plan’:

In Episode IV, we have Obi-wan openly lying to Luke about where he came from and dueling Vader (literary to the death). Not exactly the actions of a man who wants the son to save the father’s life.

In Episode V Obi-wan tells Luke not even Yoda had the power or skill required to see into the future of Han and Leia. Considering they were captured by one of the most even being in the galaxy, it wouldn’t be that hard to guess their future did not look pretty.

Luke: But, Han and Leia will die if I don't. Obi-Wan: You don't know that. Even Yoda cannot see their fate.

The idea here is tied to an important concept in SW: free will. The characters are fundamentally free to make their own choices. Anakin, despite being manipulated by Palpatine, ultimately made his own bed. This is true to all of them. Palpatine’s ‘master plan’ wasn’t about controlling people into doing what he wanted, it was using their own nature against them. He nudged them into the making poor decisions, he never stripped them of their agency.

Obi-Wan: It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer. Luke: That's why I have to go. Obi-Wan: Luke. I don't want to lose you to the Emperor, the way I lost Vader. Luke: You won't. Yoda: Stopped, they must be. On this, all depends. Only a fully trained Jedi Knight, with the Force as his ally, will conquer Vader and his Emperor. If you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil. Obi-Wan: Patience. [...] Obi-Wan: If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere.

Unless you see Obi-wan as a manipulative, cruel person who wants an untrained Luke to face two of the most powerful beings in the galaxy alone for his own personal, secret plan, I’d say the movie is pretty clear in showing us that neither Yoda nor Obi-wan want Luke to face Vader at that point. If the plan was to get Luke to going, wouldn’t have been easier to just let him go instead of creating an huge argument about it? Hell, they are willing throw Han and Leia under the bus to keep Luke from leaving. If that wasn’t shady enough now we are supposed to believe that was part of an even worst scheme involving pretty much everyone?

Yoda: Told you I did. Reckless, is he. Now... matters are worse. Obi-Wan: That boy is our last hope. Yoda: No. There is another.

Yeah, it doesn’t sound like using Luke to redeem Vader was their ultimate goal here.

There are some pretty big holes in that theory in terms of character development and narrative structure. I know everyone loves the idea of Vader and Obi-wan having some badass duel in ANH but the truth is Vader had spent the last 20 years training and killing pretty much all kinds of enemies imagine while Obi-wan mediated on Tatooine as grew shockingly old for his age.

As proven on Mustafar, raw power only takes you so far. Anakin has always been much, much more powerful than Obi-wan but in the end Obi-wan won because of skill, training and discipline. Unfortunately, for Obi-wan, he didn’t get much training in his isolation. He couldn’t have because he was in hiding! If that wasn’t enough, the EU confirms that Obi-wan sacrificed himself to allow Luke to scape. There was no secret plan.

Obi-Wan risked a glance through the hangar’s open doorway and saw four stormtroopers guarding the Falcon. He also sensed that Luke was nearby. Hoping to cause a distraction that would allow Luke to board the Falcon, he attacked Vader more vigorously. The noise of clashing lightsabers echoed into the hangar, attracting the stormtroopers’ attention. With his peripheral vision, Obi-Wan saw the stormtroopers leave their stations beside the Falcon and run toward him and Vader. He continued his attack on Vader, and several exchanges later, he sensed Luke’s movement and knew his plan had worked. He risked another glance into the hangar to see several figures racing for the Falcon’s landing ramp: the droids, Chewbacca, Han Solo, Luke, and — Leia! Obi-Wan hadn’t known that Princess Leia was on the battle station, but he recognized the girl in the white dress from the hologram that R2-D2 had displayed. Obi-Wan did not believe in luck or coincidences, and seeing Luke unwittingly reunited with his twin sister, he knew that it was not a tractor beam that had brought him to the battle station, but the will of the Force. His fleeting glance also registered that Luke had paused behind his friends. Luke stood a short distance from the landing ramp and was staring straight at him, gaping. Obi-Wan realized there was only one way Luke, Leia, and the others would escape the battle station alive. He smiled as he looked away from Luke, then closed his eyes and raised his lightsaber up before him. Darth Vader did not hesitate to strike. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Imo, this theory ruins the character of Obi-wan by making him pretty much omniscient and way more powerful and manipulative than he was in canon. Obi-wan wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t palpatine level of manipulative either. He had no ‘grand plan’ beyond using Luke to kill vader and save the galaxy in a desperate attempt to save the galaxy.

On top of that, let’s remember that Obi-wan had no hope left for Anakin. He did not believe Anakin could be redeemed after Mustafar. If you do not believe md, believe George Lucas.

After the first complete take, Lucas and McGregor discuss when he should say each line: “As you watch Anakin slide down, how about if you take one step forward,” Lucas Suggests. “For a moment, you think about it. Your first impulse is to save him – but then you realize you can’t”. As the takes multiply and the actors find their rhythm and emotions, the scene becomes more and more powerful. Christensen yells “I hate you!”. McGregor says, “I love you. But I will not help you”. Lucas explains that what Obi-wan’s really saying to Anakin is: “Your were our only hope and you blew it. Now we don’t have any hope”. Take. After Anakin implores Obi-wan to save him, George asks Ewan to say “I will not…” softer, almost to himself. Take. “After he burst into flames,” Lucas directs, “it’s as if you’re talking to a dead person. To a piece of toast”. He suggests, to drive home this point, that McGregor change the words in the script to the past tense, “I loved you.” The actor acquiesces, but points out that his subsequent line would have to change to “But I could not help you.” Lucas agrees, and Tenggren alters the script accordingly.[ The Making of ROTS]

Another thing that George is very clear about is that Luke is the one who redeems Anakin.

It really has to do with learning. Children teach you compassion. They teach you to love unconditionally. Anakin can’t be redeemed for all the pain and suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t right the wrongs, but he stops the horror. The end of the saga is simply Anakin saying, I care about this person [Luke], regardless of what it means to me. I will throw away everything that I have, everything that I’ve grown to love - primarily the Emperor - and throw away my life, to save this person. And I’m doing it because he has faith in me; he loves me despite all the horrible things I’ve done. I broke his mother’s heart, but he still cares about me, and I can’t let that die. Anakin is very different in the end. The thing of it is: the prophecy was right. Anakin was the chosen one, and he does bring balance to the Force. He takes the ounce of good still left in him and destroys the Emperor out of compassion for his son. [ GEORGE LUCAS - THE MAKING OF REVENGE OF THE SITH; PAGE 221.]

This brings us back about what I said earlier about narrative structure. This is Luke’s story. Obi-wan is the mentor, that’s it. It’s Luke’s actions, Luke’s choices. To suddenly reveal that everything happened was the result of Obi-wan’s plan would be narrative equivalent of a slap in the face. We watched Luke’s hero journey only to find out his journey was a lie and his choices weren’t really his own. How disappointing!

Not only that but redemption comes from within. Even if Obi-wan had planned for everything, Anakin would need to WANT to change. and knowing it was Luke’s selfless actions that drove Anakin into killing Palpatine, suddenly finding out an ulterior motive behind Luke’s actions (beyond the character’s own goodness) would diminish the weight of Anakin own choices.

But, again, Obi-wan couldn’t have planned for Anakin to return to the light because he didn’t even believe one could be redeemed after such evils.

Obi-Wan’s spirit was invisible but present when Luke arrived in the Endor system, where the Empire had constructed a new Death Star battle station. When Luke surrendered to Darth Vader on the Endor forest moon, he listened as Luke maintained his belief that a remnant of Anakin Skywalker remained within Vader and had not been entirely consumed by evil. Luke urged his father to let go of his hate. Vader said, “It is too late for me, son.” Then he signaled to two stormtroopers to escort Luke to a waiting shuttle that would carry them to the Death Star. As the stormtroopers moved up behind Luke, Vader added, “The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your Master now.” Luke stared at Vader for a moment before he said, “Then my father is truly dead.” Obi-Wan’s spirit wished he had convinced Luke of this fact earlier. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Even as they fought, Obi-wan didn’t believe Luke could save Anakin. It was only after witnessing Palpatine’s demise he started to realize what it meant.

Obi-Wan knew that Vader would never help, and he felt almost overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Luke would soon be dead, and Vader would remain the Emperor’s puppet. In fact, Obi-Wan was so convinced of Vader’s nature that he was stunned by what happened next. Vader grabbed the Emperor and lifted him off his feet. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Had Obi-Wan’s spirit not witnessed Vader’s action, he never would have believed it. Vader, the same monster that Obi-Wan had left to die on Mustafar, had sacrificed himself to save his son. And suddenly Obi-Wan realized where he had failed. For unlike Luke, Obi-Wan had not only believed that Anakin was completely consumed by the dark side, but had actually refused to believe that any goodness could have remained within Vader. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Btw, in ROTJ, Obi-wan doesn’t try to talk Luke out of killing Vader. In fact, the oppositve of that happens:

Luke Skywalker: There is still good in him. Obi-Wan: He's more machine now than man. Twisted and evil. Luke Skywalker: I can't do it, Ben. Obi-Wan: You cannot escape your destiny. You must face Darth Vader again. Luke Skywalker: I can't kill my own father. Obi-Wan: Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope.

Star Wars, at its core, has a very simple message about love and the power it has over people. in the end, the good guys won because they were good, not because they were being guided there by some powerful guy. In the end, it was love that won the war and saved the day. Everyone’s love. Luke’s love for Anakin, Anakin’s love for Luke, Han’s love for Leia, etc. Selfless love makes better people and good people do good things. It’s not about manipulating actions, people or even knowing everything. In fact, I’d say it’s the appositive.

Luke didn’t know he could save Vader, but he tried anyway and that’s what makes him a hero. It’s the not knowing but having faith in someone out of love, faith they can be better than they are. That’s what saves the world. It’s not knowing everything and still acting out love and compassion.

Anyway, I honestly don’t know where this idea of Obi-wan knowing Anakin’s future and planning for it came from. But I do know it’s not supported by the movies, the EU or George himself.

#ask #englishlady #what if #obi wan kenobi #sw meta #meta: fandom #txt #meta: anakin #meta: obi wan

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magpiemorality · 5 years ago

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Virgil suddenly has the power to turn invisible and finds a very affectionate snake (Dee), a baby hydra that randomly will split into various animals (creatitwins), a baby with curly hair (Pat), and a robot (Logan). He has to take care of all of them

This was unbelievably fun. I love the concept so much that I may elongate this eventually, the world is incredible and just- how did you even come up with this??? It’s awesome! I hope you enjoyed where I went with it- for the purposes of this prompt I went with just a sort of overview/slice-of-life :)

Urban Fantasy AU, found family, pseudo-parent Virgil.

Warnings: snakes

AO3

***

Three years ago Virgil’s life changed forever. It’s been a wild ride since, but among the weirdest things that have happened as a result of being flung into a crazy, spectacular, fantastic world include (but are very much not limited to):

-That time he accidentally earned a life debt from the Dragon Witch of Downtown;

-Fighting a horde of pixies disguised as wasps on Midsummer’s Eve when they tried to fuse into some kind of pixish superentity that would’ve taken over the entire park system of the city;

-Ending up dripping wet and furious in front of the shockingly human mayor when things had gone very wrong with a local kelpie;

-Off the back of that- being officially inaugurated as the city’s Gatekeeper of the Odd and Atypically-Terrestrial (yeah he had a hand in coming up with that name and you bet he’d made sure it made a cool acronym);

-Oh, and adopting a veritable menagerie of magical-or-otherwise individuals into a patchwork family of six (sometimes five; it’s complicated).

That last one stands out, doesn’t it?

It certainly stands out to Virgil, who is only in his mid-twenties and very much under-qualified for basically everything his daily life now consists of. Saving and watching over the border between the sub- and sur-reality that makes up the city is one thing, and thanks to his handy-dandy (possibly granted by Death question mark) power of invisibility he can get those responsibilities done without too much issue or risk, and literally vanish when he needs the time away from it all. But the kids? You don’t duck out on kids- especially not these ones.

They’d never let him, for one thing. For another; he would never, ever want to.

Technically two of them aren’t actually kids; they’re just part of the family, but he’s fallen into the habit of parenting everyone he comes across now and they’ve yet to complain. Well, D.C. complains regularly, but Virgil knows it’s just for show. The other three (he says three; they could be two today but he hasn’t checked yet) are all actual children, and definitely require his parenting to stay alive.

Almost as if summoned the door to his room opens and little footsteps skitter in over the wooden floor. With a soft huff of effort Patton pulls himself up onto the bed, all soft blond curls and smiles, displaying the missing front teeth they’d had a whole debacle about the tooth fairy over. Virgil groans dramatically which makes the kid giggle, and he rolls over so Patton can come and sit on his chest and play with his bangs. He needs to dye those again soon, Virgil thinks as he yawns.

“It’s so late, you’re so sleepy!” Patton trills. His voice is high and sweet and there’s a note to it that makes Virgil wonder for the billionth time since the kid started talking if there’s something other than human in Patton’s background. He makes a mental reminder to check in with the Witches who ran the orphanage Patton had been dumped in when he goes to get his hair-dye, because if the boy turns out to be part siren or banshee then Virgil will definitely need the heads up.

For now the power of Patton’s cute pout is dangerous enough as it is. “You know, I used to sleep in every morning and not get up until lunchtime, until you guys came along,” Virgil says, booping Patton on the nose. The boy makes a face and rolls his eyes (he’d learned that from Logan) before clambering off him and walking to the end of the bed, where he hurls himself off and lands neatly on the floor a few feet away (he’d learned that from either Roman or Remus, or both). It doesn’t give Virgil as much of a heart attack as it had when he’d started doing it, because somehow he has yet to injure himself on landing. It’s pretty impressive really, and Virgil is just a teeny bit proud of his so- of the boy.

“We want pancakes!” Patton yells as he races out of the door, and an answering roar of ‘Pancakes!’ from down the hall signals that Roman and Remus are up as well.

It’s so early, ugh. But the kids are up; so he’s gotta be up. That’s how it works when you’re a parent, he’s learned.

Virgil glances over to the enormous tank on the far side of the room, meeting a pair of black eyes and a flickering tongue where the yellow anaconda is hanging out on the carefully selected plants that litter the floor of the terrarium. D.C., his best friend-slash-first-pseudo-family member, is snickering softly, and yawns while they hold eye contact, giving Virgil a pointed twitch of the head in the direction of the door before he slithers off to curl back up in his favourite corner under the sunlamp, out of sight. Traitor. He knows damn well he’s the only thing that can currently distract the twins while Virgil is trying to get things done as efficiently as possible. Fine, the human will just have to get him back another time then.

Logan appears at his door on the way past to the living room, drawn by the noise. He stops and looks in on Virgil, who gives him a little wave as he rolls out of bed. “You are required in the kitchen, Mr. Gatekeeper,” the android says, and then he’s gone again. Virgil shakes his head fondly. He could do without constantly being referred to by his title, but Logan is a bit of a work in progress.

Since being rescued from a nasty fae lab under the Library, Logan’s processors have been a little screwy. How he even manages to function without the fae who built him powering him directly is quite the mystery, but function he does, and they’re working on finding him some better memory banks to help with the acquisition of new knowledge as soon as possible. For now the android knows a lot of things, but is shockingly naive, and Virgil has had his hands full trying to acclimate the poor guy to the real world, instead of the world of books he’d previously known.

Everything else aside, though, Logan does have a point. There’s already a lot of concerning noise coming from along the corridor and with a baby Hydra with a penchant for shape-shifting and a terrifying grasp of the concept of divide and conquer; a fearless and far too easily led seven year old with a face that will get him literally everything his heart desires; an android who knows probably more than all the experts in the world combined but is the walking definition of 'you spent so long wondering if you could that you never stopped to think whether or not you should’; Virgil needs to hurry up before the place is burned down. He’s their only impulse control, after all.

So he breaks into a jog once he’s pulled his hoodie over his t-shirt, disappearing out of the room to try and supervise his unorthodox and wonderful family.

D.C. blinks at the disturbance and smiles to himself. “He’ll be fine,” he murmurs, tongue flickering once before he settles back to sleep to the distant sounds of glorious chaos.

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maximumsnow · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, HLVRAI - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta, Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Bubby (Half-Life), Benrey (Half-Life) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Basically an au exploring what if HLVRAI followed Half Life a little more closely, Au where there isn't a betrayal in that one spot, Mainly was wondering what would happen to the others if they hadn't been in on it., Some things change some don't, Oh also this is sort of intended as a not a game au

Summary: Anyone who knows original Half-Life knows that the ambush happens in that spot no matter what. What would have happened if the ambush was as rough for the others?

There was a lot to unpack involving the full realization of just how inhuman Benrey was, but all of it was shoved aside thanks to the current problem.

Which was that Benrey was horribly injured and trapped in a room that was full of a poisonous gas, and, if Coomer’s continued explanation from Wikipedia was anything to go by, it was really, really bad. Gordon did not know the limits of Benrey’s ability to heal, but if he looked this bad while getting poison shoved down his lungs, Gordon wasn’t sure about Benrey’s chances of bouncing back if he stayed for too long.

The worry cranked up to eleven when Benrey suddenly collapsed below the window.

Gordon ran over to the control console and anxiously glanced over all the buttons and levers that clearly had something to do with the environmental room. “Shit, is there like, an emergency release button?!”

Tommy wasn’t far behind. “There should- there has to be one. It’s gotta be OSHA compliant!”

“No offense, Tommy, but given everything else you’ve said followed OSHA, that doesn’t mean shit.”

“I was joking then, Mr. Freeman.”

The conversation was cut off by Bubby yelling, “Look for ‘Emergency Ventilation!’ They might be idiots, but they don’t want to waste that much space and money on a bricked room.” He had taken Tommy’s place at the tank of poison and was fiddling with something over there.

Now that he knew what to look for, Gordon renewed his search, but Tommy was already reaching over him and slammed a fist onto a button. “Woah-”

A sound not unlike an air conditioning unit but much louder kicked in, and there was an immediate change in the enclosed room as the green started to clear out. With the fog fading away and the lack of a large rainbow body covering the floor, it was much easier to see what the room used to be.

The rocky terrain was mostly barren by this point, with the remains of possibly alien plants dotted around pools of water. Corpses of headcrabs were also strewn about, but, shockingly, they were mostly still intact despite Benrey’s presence.

Most notably, though, there was the body of a soldier, and Gordon could not say the same about it. It was in more pieces than Benrey’s still alive body. There was an arm in the corner, a leg by that murky pool, and Gordon had to look away from the torso with organs leaking out of it.

That was enough nightmares for today.

He anxiously waited for the door to unlock, but despite the toxin being flushed out by fresh air and vented elsewhere, there wasn’t a click or a hiss or any other sound he would associate with an unlocking pressurized door.

“Uh, why-”

The overhead sprinklers in the sealed room turned on; the hiss of spraying water was immediately covered up by a sharp scream that could only have come from Benrey.

Gordon slammed against the window as he tried to see what was going on. “Benrey? Dude, you okay?” He knew the question was stupid, but due to where Benrey dropped, it was difficult to see the security guard from the angle the window allowed.

“What are you doing?” The tone would be called whiny if it wasn’t for the gasps of pain that punctuated each word.

The implied accusation stung. “I don’t know! We hit the button to clear out the gas and-”

Tommy interrupted, “Sorry Benrey! That stuff- That gas residue can stick. The room has special surfactant laced water in the sprinklers and… yeah. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

The explanation was met with silence.

“Benrey?” Gordon couldn’t help but call out.

“Oh. Okay. I can chill a bit.” The voice was strained, but at least he spoke at all.

The tension left his shoulders a little. As long as Benrey was still talking, they knew he was fine. At least it sounded like his voice wasn’t as raspy this time.

Unfortunately, all they could do was wait until the room went through a complete clean cycle if the book Tommy had pulled out was right.

Feeling bad for their stuck companion, Gordon turned the intercom on and panicked when he didn’t have an immediate topic to bring up. Latching onto the first question his mind thought of, he asked, “So uh, was this why you kept disappearing on us earlier?”

More silence.

“Benrey?”

“Hey bro. Appreciate what you’re doing, but please no talking? Pretty please? I’ll be fine. Promise.” Benrey’s voice was barely audible over the fans getting louder.

The pained plea immediately made Gordon feel guilty, so he turned the intercom off and started to pace in front of the window. The sound made it difficult for any of them to hold a conversation, even if Benrey wasn’t involved, so Gordon was stuck alone in his thoughts as he waited for the door to finally open. From a different perspective, it looked like he was all but bouncing between Bubby and Tommy, but he didn’t get to appreciate that mental image due to worrying over the condition Benrey was in.

He was still reeling over the full understanding that Benrey’s one off line about not being human was not an impulsive gag, but a truthful statement. Sure, he probably should have guessed by now given Benrey’s apparent powers, but Gordon still thought that he was more in line with Bubby or Coomer. An… Enhanced human, if anything else.

But nope, Benrey was apparently a shapeshifting monster that had a human form. The scientist in Gordon was intrigued at the apparent alien life form, but the empathetic part of him knew that outright asking shit like that would be rude at best. De-human… Depersonalizing at worst.

Sure Benrey gave him hell, but it wasn’t like Benrey had been outright malicious. Hell, he had even rescued Coomer.

… Actually, he was probably also the thing that slammed into Bubby’s tube to release him.

Damn, Gordon really felt bad for being a dick to Benrey earlier, now.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud hissing sound brought his attention back to the room, and Tommy all but yanked the door off its hinges before catching himself. “Mr. Freeman, you have to, uh. You’re wearing an HEV suit. You have to be the one to pull him out.”

Nodding, Gordon quickly passed him and entered the now supposedly cleaned environmental room. Benrey was huddled under the observation window, and when he looked up at Gordon, he actually had more than half of a face.

The sight of muscle and bone still made Gordon recoil in horror. “Holy shit, dude. Doesn’t that hurt?”

Benrey half-heartedly gave a one-armed shrug. “I’ll regen soon, don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck ass!” Hell, just looking at him was making him queasy. But the half-drowned puppy look compelled him to at least try to ease the poor guy’s pain. “Come on let’s get you out of here.” He knelt down and tried to figure out where he could potentially touch Benrey without hurting him.

“Need a hand?” Benrey rolled over, and clutched in his remaining hand was a now very muddy arm.

Needless to say, the visual equivalent of a non-sequitur gave Gordon pause as he tried to process just what he was looking at.

“Why the fuck do you have a random arm?”

“Wasn’t his.” He lazily waved the arm like it was a magic wand and pointed the hand end towards the dead soldier.

Gordon could feel his stress headache building. “What do you mean it wasn’t his?”

In lieu of saying anything, Benrey shoved the other end of the arm into Gordon’s face, and the movement startled Gordon into falling on his ass.

He was so glad that he couldn’t feel the mud through the HEV suit.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Look, it’s not, uh, natural.”

“I don’t want to look at the bony end-” He stopped and stared at the place he knew there should be blood and bone, but there were bits that looked shiny under the mud. “Metal?”

“Yeah. Not his. He’s kinda made of meat.”

“Is this… Dr. Coomer’s arm?”

“Think so. Tried to get it back for ‘em”

… That’s right, Benrey was the monster that chased the soldiers that had taken Dr. Coomer apart.

Gordon shook his head as he got back on his feet. “You can show him when we get out. Come on...”

Given Benrey’s current state, Gordon finally decided to just try picking him up bridal style. Other than a few grunts of pain as he was shifted around, Benrey kept mostly quiet.

Exiting became a problem since the others had all elected to stand directly in the doorway to peer in like children trying to snoop on their parents. He rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Benrey shouted, “LET ME OUT OF THIS BOX!”

The sudden volume actually made Bubby and Tommy scramble out of the way, but it took a not so subtle yank from Bubby to make Coomer move.

With the path clear, Gordon walked in and found a relatively clean spot next to a wall to put Benrey. “Here we go. Sorry, can’t do anything more comfy for ya.”

“It’s fine,” He said before shoving the arm into Gordon’s hands. “I gotta. Gotta nap.”

While the thought of staying too long made him nervous, Gordon couldn’t help but agree with him there. They could afford to take a break for a while. “Alright, I’ll get you up before we leave.”

“Sounds good.” The one eye was already drifting shut, but the steady breathing soothed Gordon’s fear.

Despite still being worried, he could see some of the skin regrowing on Benrey’s face, and, frankly, Gordon didn’t want to get sick. Instead, he turned to the others, nearly bumped into Tommy with how close he had been standing, and asked Coomer, “Hey, your arm-”

“Look, Gordon, you found my left Extendo-arm!”

“-Your arm is dirty. Do we have to do anything special to clean it?”

“Nope! It’s perfectly waterproof even when unattached. You’ve even seen me swim with it.”

“The chemicals in the water should have- should have made it safe to use. Even after exposure to- Even after being exposed to the poison.”

“Okay so just some good old soap and water to get off the dirt should be fine.” With that, he walked over the bloodstains to one of the sinks built into the counters. He tested one of the faucet handles, and sighed in relief when water flowed out of the tap. Grateful that the water was still working, he started trying to wipe off all the mud.

Progress was… Slow, however.

“How the HELL did this get so fucking dirty?”

The clunky gloves of the HEV suit didn’t make it any easier, either. As he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn clump of dirt, he glanced over towards Tommy and Benrey.

Tommy was practically standing over Benrey. Like he was guarding him.

But before he could say something to him, Bubby and Coomer’s movements caught his eye as they wandered towards Gordon’s other side.

Coomer had moved first. Something had caught his attention, and he was walking towards the other sink. Then Bubby’s examination of the poison tank ended, and he joined Coomer in looking over what was left on the counters.

They both stood in front of a strange egg-like thing, and when Gordon looked over his shoulder to do a quick headcount, he had to ask, “Uh, what the fuck is that? Please don’t poke it.”

“Hello, Gordon! I have no idea what this is!” Given his current lack of upper limbs, Coomer had settled on nearly shoving his face into it as he tried to examine it.

Bubby, of course, decided to pick it up, and before Gordon could stop him, the egg appeared to hatch on contact. “Oh. I uh. Didn’t expect that. Does this mean I’m a parent now?”

“What a beautiful child!”

The creature in question was an insectoid creature not much bigger than Bubby’s hand with a large faceted eye. When Bubby brought up his other hand to presumably touch it, a beak snapped shut very close to his finger and nearly caused him to drop it.

“Careful, before it bites your hand off!”

“I’m not that stupid.”

Gordon chose to not rise to the bait and start a fight there. “We can’t take it with us, so figure out what to do with it.”

Turning back to his task at hand, he continued scrubbing mud away, and he couldn’t help but notice that the artificial skin on the arm sometimes made it look far too real.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think- Wait where the fuck did that thing go?

When he looked back over the counter, the creature Bubby had picked up was nowhere to be seen.

He had to ask, "What did you do?"

"Tranq'ed it."

Gordon blinked a few times before yelling, "HOW?"

"With tranqulizers Gordon use your goddamn brain." With that, Bubby turned away and walked over towards the desk.

"Where did you- you know what? I don't need to know." He knew a lost cause of a conversation when he saw one, and he did not want to deal with it anymore.

Once the arm was sufficiently cleaned, he placed it on the counter and nearly ran into Coomer.

“Hello, Gordon!”

“Hey, Coomer. Does this need to dry before we reattach it, or can it just go right on?” He waved towards the drying arm.

Coomer mused for a second before saying, “It is waterproof, but I’ve never tried attaching the arms while they’re still wet. Maybe we should sit it in rice for a few minutes?”

“Uhhhh, we don’t have rice, dude. But we can let it air dry for a while. Don’t think we’re going anywhere soon.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the resting Benrey. In a quieter voice, he asked, “How’re you holding up?”

Matching his volume, Coomer responded, “I’ll be much better when I have my arms again. At least we’re almost halfway there.”

Gordon reached over and patted Coomer’s shoulder before going back to the others. “How about we just. Take a breather for now?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” Bubby said before promptly dropping to the floor. At least that spot was clean...

“… You okay?” “I’m fine!” Despite the claim, Bubby was removing the shoe on his bad foot and was checking on the injury.

Before Gordon could go over and repeat the question, Coomer lightly shoulder checked him as he passed by and gave Gordon a look.

As Gordon understood it, that was an unspoken, “Let me handle it,” gesture, and he backed away from the older scientists as they settled.

Coomer lightly leaned against Bubby on his way down to a sitting position; the ease with which he went through the motions spoke of years of practice.

How often had Coomer been armless before?

Gordon knew the question would be unappreciated at the moment, but it hovered in his mind like an annoying fly. He tried to distract himself by taking a seat not far from Benrey and Tommy, but Benrey was still obviously regrowing shit, which Gordon still didn’t want to focus on.

So that left trying to get Tommy to relax.

“Yo, Tommy, uhh. How long before I can sleep?” He nearly slapped himself on the forehead with how dumb that was. Wow, great conversation starter, Gordon. Bringing more attention to their group's various injuries was a great way to ease Tommy’s worries.

The expected reaction of Tommy managing to tense up even more made Gordon vaguely wonder when the theoretical string would snap. “I don’t- It’s not an exact science. Just. If you-” Tommy cut himself off. “-I know we can’t keep you up forever.” The admission was followed by a drop in Tommy’s shoulders. “Can you stay up until night- until the we have to stop and sleep later?”

The correction was appreciated. Sometimes they didn’t see the sun for a while, and at this point, Gordon didn’t even know what time of day it was. The lobby had ambient sunlight shining through the skylight, but with everything happening, he couldn’t even begin to guess how long ago that was.

Right, he needed to answer that question before Tommy wrung himself into a spiral of anxiety. “Yeah, man, I can do that.”

Tommy’s face lightened up into a faint smile, and while that gave Gordon some relief, he couldn’t help but feel sad that the normally vivid expression had faded so much.

Deciding to take the conversation back to what he actually wanted to talk about, he asked, “Wanna take a breather? The rest of us are. Can you mess up the door like the last one?”

Tommy bit his lip as he appeared to weigh the options. “This door doesn’t- This room doesn’t have a Tesla charge. So it doesn’t have the same-” Tommy waved his hand in frustration, “-Things. That the last door we blocked did.”

Gordon groaned, “OSHA Compliance?”

“OSHA Compliance.”

Sure, he knew why most automatic doors didn’t have an auto-lock on them, but it made things really inconvenient right now.

“How about we just block the door with something? We’re all hanging out on the ground.” Despite that last statement, Gordon adjusted himself so that he could stand up and help.

“Take it easy, Mr. Freeman, I can get it,” Tommy said before putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder to keep him seated.

“But-”

“It won’t take me long, just keep- Watch out for the others.”

He wasn’t entirely sure just what he meant since Bubby was already faintly snoring, and Coomer was loudly snoring, but didn’t argue as Tommy breezed past him.

Gordon would swear he only blinked before Tommy had come back and settled near him and Benrey.

“You already done?”

“Yeah, just took some- Took a few chairs and made a barrier. The counter already blocks us from view. And the- the uh, blood trail should be a warning sign...”

Tommy sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Gordon, and it didn’t look like it was working.

“I believe you.”

The look Tommy gave him conveyed incredulousness and gratitude.

“We’ll get through this, okay? But don’t burn yourself out. I can keep an eye on things for an hour or two, if that would help?”

Sure, Gordon knew he would be an alarm system at best, but Tommy looked so tired. Even if Tommy would only take a short nap, it would be better for him in the long run.

Honestly, it would be better for all of them since he was the only one not physically fucked up in some way, but Gordon’s primary concern in the moment was Tommy’s mental wellbeing.

The quiet after the question stretched for an uncomfortable minute, but Gordon knew Tommy needed to think this through on his own terms. “Sure, I can- I can take a nap. Will you wake me up in-” Tommy then seemed to notice the lack of functioning clocks in this room, “-In a little while.”

“Poggers,” Gordon nearly died as the streamer lingo slipped out. Sure his interest in video games had slipped out earlier, but the residual fear of exposing his private interests to professional colleagues never went away completely. “Sounds good, I mean.”

Tommy shrugged before handing over the assault rifle and sliding down from his seated position to a laying position.

“G’night, Mr. Freeman.” “Goodnight, Tommy.”

#My writing #HLVRAI #Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware #gordon hlvrai #Dr Coomer #Bubby #Benrey #Tommy Coolatta

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

Text

A Pipe Dream

The Flash stars in: A Pipe Dream

Dramatis Personae

Wally West, the garrulous, impulsive, and friendly third Flash

Joan Garrick, Jay Garrick’s wife, who is patient, loving, and supportive of everyone

Iris Allen, Barry Allen’s wife, an inquisitive daredevil reporter

The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief

The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant, elitist, and top-obsessed criminal

Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, an overconfident, rather stupid robber

Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim, shockingly gentle pyromaniac

Script

Act I

(Joan and Iris are onstage)

Iris: So, how’s Jay?

Joan: He’s doing well enough, I suppose, but, to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He keeps claiming that he’s retired from crime fighting, but every time I turn around, he’s wearing that silly hat of his and racing off to fight bank robbers or carjackers or giant, murderous, telepathic gorillas. It was one thing when he was fifty, but now he’s 99 years old, and the doctors say that his heart won’t be able to take much more of his running at super speed.

Iris: What does he say about that?

Joan: That (strikes a heroic pose) “ it will be a pleasure to die in the line of duty.”

Iris: (Laughs) That sounds just like Barry.

Joan: I know, and it’s not funny. Our husbands spend so much time saving everyone else that they never stop to worry about themselves.

Iris: I guess that’s true-but hey, that’s part of what we’re here for, to make sure our husbands take some “me time” occasionally.

Joan: In speaking of husbands, how’s Barry?

Iris: He’s not doing so well. He came down with the flu a few days ago, and I’ve been going crazy trying to keep him from leaving his bed so that he can go fight crime.

Joan: Oh, I’ve had that happen with Jay before. Once, when he had pneumonia, he heard about a shoplifting ring, and I had to call in Ted and Alan-you know them as Wildcat and the original Green Lantern-to physically restrain him so that he wouldn’t leave the house to go stop them.

Iris: Well, I haven’t had to resort to calling the Justice League to restrain Barry yet, so things could be worse.

Joan: You’re right. Things could be worse. We could be having to deal with two sick speedsters each. Or a sick Superman!

Iris: Man, that would be a nightmare. I have no idea how that Lois Lane woman does it.

Joan: Maybe Clark just doesn’t get sick. After all, he isn’t a human, so maybe our diseases don’t affect him and he’s as invulnerable to getting sick as he is to everything else.

Iris: Maybe so.

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Joan. Hi, Aunt Iris. (Sneezes) How are you?

Iris: Hi, Wally. We’re doing all right. How are you?

Wally: I’m fine, but Linda and the kids all have the flu (Sneezes) and the twins also both have strep. (Sneezes) It sure is lucky that I don’t get sick, or we’d have a real mess on our hands.

Iris: Um, Wally, are you sure you’re not sick?

Wally: Yeah, I’m sure. (Sneezes three times) I never get sick. I had perfect attendance all throughout school, and you can check my records if you don’t believe me.

Joan: Can you at least try to take it easy, Wally?

Wally: I can’t do that! Jay’s retired and Uncle Barry has the flu, and someone has to protect the city! Besides, I can’t deny my adoring fans the chance to see me because I have a few sniffles. (Sneezes) I’ll be fine!

Iris: (To Joan) Is there a single superhero in the entire world who actually rests when they get sick?

Joan: Speaking from experience, I don’t think there is.

Wally: I said that I’m fine! (Sneezes) So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!

Iris: Wally, it’s 8:00 in the morning!

Wally: Okay, so let’s get brunch!

Iris: But I just ate breakfast!

Wally: I don’t follow. (Sneezes) I just ate breakfast, too, and I’m already hungry again.

Joan: Wally, dear, you have to consume 980,000 calories per day just to survive, so you have to eat almost constantly. We simply don’t have the appetite or the metabolism to keep up with you.

Wally: Oh, right. I forget that fact a lot-especially (Sneezes) since my kids inherited my metabolism and have to (Sneezes) eat even more than I do.

Iris: It’s all right, Wally.

Wally: So, um, do you want to go to McDonalds with me (Sneezes) and watch me eat? With Linda and the kids all sick, I’ve been cooped up in the house for a week, and I’m going stir-crazy!

Iris: I suppose so. After all, with Barry sick, I haven’t been able to get out much, either.

Joan: I’ll go, too. After all, if you really are sick despite your claims, someone needs to keep an eye on you so that you don’t run yourself into the ground.

Wally: Great! I love you guys so much, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into (Sneezes) 340 Big Macs! I love McDonalds food!

Iris: (Shakes head) Never change, Wally. Never change.

(Exit All)

Act II

(The Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter the Top)

Top: Top of the morning to you, Piper.

Piper: Oh, good, you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?

Top: No. There is not a person in this city who would dare inconvenience the Top.

Piper: What about our friends in the red pajamas?

Top: Don’t make me laugh, Piper. The old one is feeble and retired, the young one is impulsive and stupid, and the only one that poses a threat has the flu, and therefore cannot be on top of his game. They could not bother me if they tried. What of you, my friend? Are you still in tip- top shape, or has your life spun out of control?

Piper: I’m as fit as a fiddle, Roscoe. The Flashes have no reason to hunt down a peaceable man who steals money from drug lords and self-absorbed starlets and gives it to the poor. In fact, if I could only make them realize that the real villains are the members of the 1% who enrich themselves at the expense of the poor, we would be good friends.

Top: But I heard you were homeless?

Piper: I am.

Top: How, exactly, did that come to pass?

Piper: Well, after my last heist, I was going to buy an apartment for myself, but while I was on my way to buying it, I saw a very pregnant woman with two small children crying, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was trying to escape from her abusive boyfriend but that she had no money, and so I gave her the money and told her to use it to make a good life for herself and her children, and so I was unable to buy anything.

Top: You gave all of the money away?

Piper: Of course! They needed it more than I did.

Top: You, sir, are a fool. This is the fifth time that you have given up a permanent home to help some wretch-the fifth time!

Piper: Roscoe, you of all people should understand what it is like to be an outcast. How can you criticize my desire to help others that the world has forgotten?

Top: Because I am a genius, something that decidedly does not apply to the people for whom you constantly risk your freedom and your own safety.

Piper: Roscoe, my early life was spent in scandalous luxury, luxury that my parents took at the expense of the poor who helped build their empire. It’s only fair that I go without to help them now. (Pause) So, do you know if anyone else is coming to our little meeting?

Top: No. I do not concern myself with the behavior of lesser men like them.

(Enter Heat Wave)

Heat Wave: Hi, Piper! Hi, Top! Seeing you two really warms my heart! (Hugs Piper)

Piper: Mick, I love hugs, but…I….can’t….breathe!

Heat Wave: Oh, sorry. (Releases him)

Piper: Hi, Mick. How have you been?

Heat Wave: I’m okay. I was burning up with fever a couple days ago, but I’m all better now.

Piper: I’m glad to hear that. Do you know if any of the others are coming?

Heat Wave: Captain Cold won’t be here. He’s got a bad case of the chills , and besides, he’s still in prison, and so is Mirror Master. They say hi.

Piper: And what about Glider?

Top: My love is on vacation in the Bahamas. She won’t be able to come.

Piper: Wait. I thought you said that you didn’t know if anyone else could come!

Top: Did I? Oh. My apologies.

Piper: (To Heat Wave) Do you know if Digger is coming?

Heat Wave: He won’t be coming. He broke his leg and told me that he didn’t feel like messing with crutches when I brought him chocolate and flowers.

Piper: Okay, and what about Mardon?

Heat Wave: I don’t know. Last I heard, he was feeling a little under the weather.

(Enter Weather Wizard)

Wizard: Nope, I’m as right as rain!

Piper: Hi, Mark!

Wizard: Hi, Piper! Hey, Mick.

Heat Wave: How’ve you been? I heard you were sick.

Wizard: Nope. I’ve just been taking it easy.

Top: What a surprise.

Wizard: What’s that supposed to mean?

Top: It means that you are a lazy fool who hasn’t done a day’s work in his life.

Wizard: Am not! Why, I stole an entire tractor-trailer full of sports cars in an hour once!

Top: Yes, by sitting on your couch and allowing a tornado to detach the trailer from the cab of the truck and deliver the loot to your house.

Wizard: So? You can’t fault me for conserving energy!

Top: “Conserving energy”, my foot.

Wizard: What’s the matter, Top? Are you jealous of my power?

Top: No. I simply think it is wasted on a man who uses it only to commit petty thefts.

Wizard: (Raises weather wand) Petty? (Waves wand) I’ll show you petty! (Thunderclap)

Heat Wave: Whoa there, Mark, let’s not get hasty. I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret-like destroying this building with all of us in it!

Piper: Mick’s right, Mark. It’s too dangerous to get into a fight here.

Wizard: (Lowers weather wand) Fine. But if you expect me to take his stupid comments forever, you’re chasing rainbows, Piper.

Piper: (to Top) Roscoe, please don’t antagonize Mark. You really don’t want him to make you face the music .

Top: I am not afraid of him, Piper.

Wizard: Well, you should be, because if you don’t start respecting me, our little truce will be nothing more than the calm before the storm!

Top: Whatever you say, Mardon. Whatever you say. (Pause) Shall we get down to business?

Heat Wave: Yeah, we should. Who has a plan for our next heist?

Piper: I do, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be calling the tune on this job. You see, some friends of my parents are importing some very fine jewelery, and I think that those jewels will make for a tidy sum for the poor….

Act III

(Wally, Iris, and Joan are sitting at a table)

Wally: Boy, that was delicious! (Sneezes) I don’t care what Uncle Barry says-McDonalds has the best food in the world!

Joan: It isn’t exactly the healthiest food, you know.

Wally: Yeah, I know-but with the way I burn calories (Sneezes) , it isn’t going to hurt me any!

Iris: Um, I’m not sure that’s how it works, Wally.

Wally: Well, even if it isn’t, I’m young and it tastes good, so who cares?

Joan: I do, for one.

Iris: And so do I.

Wally: Good grief! When are you two (Sneezes) going to stop treating me like a little kid?

Iris: Wally, I watched you grow up. It’s going to take awhile for me to adjust-especially when you keep acting like a crazy teenager.

Wally: I don’t act like a crazy teenager! (Sneezes) I act like a crazy adult!

Joan: Wally, there isn’t much difference between a crazy teenager and a crazy adult.

Wally: Oh, yeah? (Sneezes) Prove it!

Joan: The Trickster.

Wally: Yeah, you’ve pretty much got me there. (Sneezes) Sorry I’m so annoying.

Joan: It’s all right. You’re not annoying most of the time, dear.

Iris: Just some of the time.

Wally: I love you guys. (Sneezes) So, what should we do next?

Iris: We could go shoe shopping. I’ve been needing a new pair of heels.

Wally: No! Not shoe shopping! Linda’s taken me on enough shoe shopping trips to last a lifetime! (Sneezes)

Iris: I was only kidding, Wally.

Wally: Good. Oooh, why don’t we get ice cream?

Joan: You can get ice cream. It probably isn’t a good idea for us to get it.

Wally: Yes! (Disappears, then returns with ice cream and cake)

Joan: Where did you get the cake from?

Wally: China. (Sneezes) They make everything there these days.

Iris: (Laughs) You ran all the way to China just to get cake?

Wally: Well, I was aiming for Hungary, but I overshot.

Joan: How did you overshoot Hungry? You have a full-time residency there.

Wally: Huh? (Pauses, then laughs) Oh, I get it! That’s hilarious, Joan!

Joan: Why thank you, Wally. I think you and your aunt are rubbing off on me.

Iris: I’m glad we decided to do this. Barry’s a dear, but when he gets sick, he can be a bit of a nightmare.

Wally: Wait, Uncle Barry can be a nightmare?

Iris: Believe it or not, yes. Now, he’s not rude or whiny, but he keeps trying to leave his bed and stop crimes instead of resting so that he can get well, and it’s very irritating to make him stay put, because he gives me these really sad puppy dog eyes when I tell him to stay at home.

Wally: Hah! I knew he (Sneezes) had a weakness besides punctuality!

Joan: All three of you have that weakness, Wally.

Wally: I do not! (His phone rings) Sorry. I need to take this. (Pulls out phone) Hello, Commissioner? The Rogues? What are they doing? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Commish! (Sneezes) You’re welcome. Good-bye. (Puts away phone) Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta run! The Rogues are trying to steal some jewelry, and I need to stop them.

Iris: No problem, Wally. Go get them!

Joan: And be careful!

(Exit Wally)

Iris: You know, just once, I would like to have an outing that isn’t interrupted by criminals, the Rogues, telepathic gorillas, or aliens who want to take over the world.

Joan: I fully agree with you, Iris. (Pause) Would you like to go shoe shopping with me while he’s gone?

Iris: That sounds terrific, Joan.

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter the Rogues, running)

Piper: (Yelling over his shoulder) Thank you for your generous donation to the poor, Mr. Englewood!

Top: Oh, that was terrific fun! I’m feeling on top of the world right now!

Heat Wave: You’re right, Top. There’s nothing like a nice heist with all of my bestest friends to give me those nice warm and fuzzy feelings.

Wizard: Tell me about it. I’m on cloud nine!

Top: What are you going to do with your money, Piper? I am going to buy a nice suit and some new tops for my collection.

Heat Wave: I’m going to buy some presents for all of my friends so that I can warm their hearts. I’m sure Captain Cold will love a new parka.

Top: I was not asking you, you imbecile.

Heat Wave: Oh. I’m sorry, Top.

Top: Just be sure it does not happen again.

Wizard: I’m going to buy me a new car so that I can finally get a girlfriend!

Top: That will never happen, Mark, and I was not asking you either.

Wizard: Well gee, thanks for destroying my ray of hope, Roscoe.

Top: Moron. (To Piper) Well, my friend? What are you going to do with your share of the loot?

Piper: I’m going to donate it to a charity for sick children. The cries of joy that will produce will be music to my ears.

Top: You are giving away your money again? (Pause) I do not believe you.

Piper: What’s so wrong about wanting to help people?

(Enter Wally)

Wally: Because you’re going about it all wrong, Piper.

Wizard: By the four seasons! It’s the Flash!

Top: Not to worry, Mardon. This one is a mere child. (To Wally) Spin.

Wally: Whoa! (Stumbles, but keeps his balance) You should become a ride at Disney World or something, Top, because you make me just as dizzy.

Heat Wave: It’s time for you to take the heat, Kid Flash! (Fires at Wally, who narrowly dodges)

Wally: No thanks!

Wizard: (Waves his wand) We’re too powerful for you to stop, Flash. Why don’t you take a rain check?

Wally: No way! Defeating a bunch of clowns like you will be a breeze!

Top: Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. (Spins out of Wally’s way)

Heat Wave: This situation is too hot for you to handle, Flash! You should leave before you get hurt or something.

Wally: Get hurt by one of you? Yeah, right. (He sneezes, and Top grabs him from behind)

Top: You were saying?

Wizard: Nighty night, Flash. (Raises his wand, and Wally sneezes again, causing the wand to go flying out of his hand) My wand!

Wally: (Breaks free) Nice try, Mardon. (He handcuffs Wizard and Top to one another)

Heat Wave: Hey, nobody hurts my friends like that!

Wally: (Taps him on the shoulder) You need better friends. (Handcuffs him to a lamp)

Piper: Flash, I’m not going to fight you. I abhor violence, as a general rule, and I know as well as anyone that my musical hypnosis doesn’t work well on you. However, before you take me away, I want to ask you something. Mr. Englewood hardly needs more money, and everyone knows that his factories are some of the most hazardous in the country for his workers. Why is it so wrong that I take money from him and give it to children who are dying from preventable diseases because of lack of money? You can’t argue that he deserves it more than they do, and he’s wealthy enough that he won’t even miss the money we took from him. Can’t you at least let me give the money away before you take me to jail? Please?

Wally: Piper, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to let you, but here’s the thing. I can’t let you break the law in order to help people. I’m sorry.

Piper: That’s all right. You’re just doing what you were told is right. I can’t fault you for that.

(Wally handcuffs him)

Wally: A word of advice, Piper? If you really want to help the poor, and I think you do, I think you’ll find it more rewarding if you do it on the right side of the law.

(Exit Wally)

Wizard: Well, that was a bust.

Top: For once, Mardon, we agree about something.

Heat Wave: Hey, guys, look at the bright side! At least we’re all still together.

Wizard: True. Nobody can call us fair-weather friends!

Heat Wave: And you know what’s even better? When we go back to prison, we can see Captain Cold again!

Top: I’m thrilled.

Wizard: Aww, don’t be such a downer, Top. You should learn to see the silver lining.

Top: I hate you both.

Piper: (Aside) All I wanted was to give the poor justice. Why is that a crime? The idea of people like my parents helping the poor is just a pipe dream...isn’t it?

Act V

(Iris and Joan are onstage. Enter Wally)

Wally: Hi, Iris! Hi, Joan! (Sneezes)

Joan: Oh, hi, Wally. Are you all right?

Wally: I’m okay. (Sneezes) But I think you were right about me being sick. I just took my temperature, and I’m 114 degrees. (Sneezes)

Joan: 114? How are you still alive?

Wally: Because the baseline body temperature for speedsters is 107 degrees.

Joan: Oh, that’s right.

Iris: Were you able to stop the Rogues?

Wally: Yep! (Sneezes) They’re being transported back to prison now, and all the jewelry has been returned. (Sneezes)

Iris: So, what do you want to do now, Wally?

Wally: I want to go home and sleep. (Sneezes) Running around sick won’t help anything.

Iris: Yes! A hero finally sees reason!

Wally: (Sneezes) Oh, and one more thing? Would you mind (Sneezes) donating money to the Children’s Health Foundation? I have a certain….friend who would really appreciate it.

Joan: Of course we will, Wally.

Wally: Thanks. You two are the greatest! (Sneezes)

#flash #wally west #flash rogues #dc comics #fanfic

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dotthings · 5 years ago

Text

While usually I’d post my ep-watching notes, I’m skipping that this time because 15.03 is such a deep dive emotionally on multiple character points. Also I’d normally rewatch before going into more depth on any one point but the Dean and Cas part in particular is a raw wound I need to get my thoughts out before I lose what’s left of my mind because of this show. That was a LOT.

Disclaimer because fandom is how it is: I will block anybody who brings character hate onto this post. You will, especially, not reblog me just to screech I have no right to consider Dean’s pov seriously and treat him as a human being and that Dean has no right to feelings how dare u. Disagreement is fine, if you see the characters and story from a slightly different angle, so long as the discussion’s in good faith, we’re good.

I’ve talked here a few times about why Dean feels the way he does about recent events, why he has a right to anger, hurt, pain, and this is a little similar, as I’m definitely not going to stop treating Dean like the layered, sympathetic, complicated character that he is any time soon, and he has every right to the anger and the hurt and the pain, but in this specific scene, his words are in the wrong. It’s in the same zip code as “you’re dead to me” and Dean delivering ultimatums to Cas, both of which are things I’ve criticized. This doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t have a right to his feelings or I’m going to ignore why he might act the way he does instead of knee jerk simplifying, which does the character, the story, his relationship with Cas, and the entire show a disservice. He has a right to that anger, fear, pain, hurt. However there’s a distinction between things Cas actually did where I can see why Dean might still be upset with him—shutting Dean out, not trusting Dean enough, not trusting in THEM enough--and then there’s Dean saying things are are untrue and unfair.

In the final scene of 15.03 Dean pins every screw up onto Cas, he uses the word “always” and it is a shockingly unfair statement, and you could make a history reel of Team Free Will demonstrating how off-canon that statement is. Let’s not repeat that cyclical thing, because it’s a trap like a hamster wheel and maybe some infernal device of Chuck’s to get fandom to fight, but anyone with an ounce of sense, who pays attention to canon, can see that Sam, Dean, and Cas have set things in motion that make big messes, repeatedly.

What Dean says plays into all of Cas’s deepest insecurities and fears, and the intention of the episode is very very clear that even Dean doesn’t believe what he’s saying. He says it anyway, which is a whole mess right there and I’ll get into that, but the things Dean says to Cas aren’t Dean’s truth. Jensen’s incredible, beautiful acting makes it obvious immediately not only that Dean doesn’t truly believe what he’s saying, but that Dean deeply regrets it the second they come out of his mouth. Most people have at one time or another said stupid things in anger they don’t really believe, or give into the impulse to lash out. Dean’s tendency to do this isn’t constructive or positive behavior, it’s a character flaw, but he is also a sympathetically portrayed character, not an asshole or an abuser, and we are always shown the sources of the hurt and the pain that brings him to that point. That doesn’t mean he can do that to Cas and it’s perfectly okay. But it’s a deeply ugly, bad hot take to treat Dean as monstrous or abusive.

Understanding where the pain comes from that gets Dean to the point he’d lash out like this doesn’t mean that what comes out of his mouth on the other end is right.

There is no part of Dean that really thinks Cas ruined everything and is always what makes things go wrong. It’s actually laughable to suggest this—I will for reals laugh at anyone who tries to earnestly argue that as a reliable take on canon. That’s pretty much someone who has divorced the canon and isn’t paying attention to years and years of material. This line isn’t in fact actually about Cas ruining Team Free Will save the world plans. It’s something much deeper, about Dean’s fears and Cas’s. Which I’ll get to a sec.

Dean also is incredibly unfair in blaming Cas for Rowena’s death, and if Cas had just let Bel devour all those souls and become a Lucifer-level problem, TFW would again be completely screwed. And he is also uncharacteristically cold to Cas about sending him on the mission to Hell with Bel. These are all red flags and build-up to the final scene.

Fandom loves to yell about OOCness. This isn’t OOC, these things, this hurt, they are a part of Dean, but they aren’t how he really feels about things, they are purposefully crafted as red flags to show the audience something is wrong. Not that Dean isn’t himself, or possessed. It’s like a figurative, emotional possession. His deep sense of despair is eating him alive and his relationship with Cas is taking a hit from it.

It’s also interesting Dean voices what AU Michael said, which was AU Michael using Dean’s greatest fears about how Cas might perceive how Dean feels about him. This isn’t proof that AU Michael was speaking the truth about how Dean feels after all. It’s that Dean remembers witnessing AU Michael saying that to Cas, taunting Cas with it, and it’s still among Dean’s big fears—that Cas thinks he ruined Dean’s life, that Dean doesn’t love him back and blames him for all the troubles. Then there’s Dean’s fears that Cas doesn’t love him back, that Dean ruined an angel, Cas’s falling was his fault and so every bad thing that happens to Cas, deep down, Dean self-loathes himself for.

Dean has done a lot of growing but the vestiges of the Dean in S9 who said “I’m poison” are still there. That kind of thing doesn’t just magically go away never to return.

And here’s this huge chasm that has opened under Dean’s feet. Dean is doubting the meaning of his entire life right now, because of the revelation about Chuck. Because of Dean wondering if anything he’s gone through is “real” — if any of his actions and feelings and pain and struggling and losses and wins had any real meaning at all or was it all puppeted. It was good in this ep seeing Dean not giving up, determined to fend off or seal away the ghosts, and up yours, Chuck, but he isn’t over his sense of despair.

One of Dean’s fears here is that what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, that the things Cas did, for him, their closeness, none of that was authentic. Remember that their relationship started as *movie announcer voice* it was only supposed to be a mission...it became something more. Cas’s introduction into Dean’s life was Cas as a chess piece, sent as part of Heaven’s bigger clockwork plan.

Dean’s entire world is caving in, and he’s not ready to see that everything Cas feels for him, Cas's deep and genuine love for him, is in fact very, scarily, in your face real.

He’s shutting himself off, he’s shutting Cas out. The feelings he has for Cas aren’t gone, but Dean’s a mess.

Interesting how this ep shows a demon ripping Ketch’s heart out of his chest, because Dean figuratively rips his own heart out of his chest in the last scene with him and Cas. He hurts someone he really REALLY doesn’t want to hurt, who he loves so so much--you can insert here a sizzle reel of 11 seasons of Dean listening to Cas, defending Cas, offering Cas shelter and protection, saving Cas’s life, caring about Cas, being there for Cas, grieving for Cas, feeling insecure about Cas, showing fondness for Cas, in one way or the other. There is so much. That doesn’t mean the relationship doesn’t have problems or their own issues and poor coping mechanisms and circumstance and familial dynamics haven’t made things difficult at times. Dean hurts Cas on the most raw, biggest fear Cas has and interestingly, the biggest fear or criticism Cas fans have about the show.

And there’s Bel—demon of marital strife—playing on Cas’s fears all throughout the ep, taking little digs about how expendable Cas is, how unimportant he is to his friends. He’s like the angel in S11 who tells Cas he’s expendable and Sam and Dean “are the real heroes.” Maybe it was part of Bel’s plan all along to have Dean and Cas divided, along with his bigger take over Hell agenda.

I’ve been saying this and saying this--while it’s valid that Dean is still hurt over what happened with Cas, Jack, and Mary, and is still, remember, rawly grieving Mary’s death which was mere DAYS AGO—it’s also not actually what it’s about, and it’s not even entirely about Dean’s Chuck-induced despair, although that ground falling away is what’s pushing things to this point. What it’s actually about underneath is Dean and Cas and their relationship. Years of unresolved Dean and Cas issues. I sure called that one. Dean’s fears. Cas’s fears. Dean’s abandonment issues, Cas’s leaving, Dean’s fears of losing Cas, Cas’s fears of not being loved, Dean’s fears of Cas not loving him the way he loves Cas.

One thing that is so so tragic about Dean’s despair is that just last season, Dean reached a point of self-like. Liking who he is, who he’s becoming, the family he’s chosen. Being good with his life.

And then boo the crushing reveal that Chuck was manipulating their circumstances all this time. Which doesn’t mean Chuck was controlling them or their decisions or feelings. But Dean doesn’t feel that way.

Which, emotional horror that this is, also just serves to show just how much Cas actually means to him, how important Cas is. This big Destiel drama and hurt and pain rises from Dean and Cas loving each other and being in love and being complete and utter dumbasses. It hurts. It’s supposed to hurt. Their friendship has been mostly functional. Their love story is a car wreck. If Cas wasn’t so important, all this emotional horror wouldn’t be taking place. Dean and Cas’s relationship right now is a lightning rod for the fallout on pretty much everything.

And it’s really strong, and it’s going to endure this, but not without taking some hits to the bow.

On Cas’s part, Cas isn’t in a great headspace but he’s in a less self-destructive and harmful and despairing headspace than Dean. He has grown a lot and I think a few seasons ago, Cas would have endured, looked grim and said nothing, and stayed. He would stay doubting himself, or stay thinking Dean is really unfair, but he’d stoically take it. But not this time, and Cas did the only thing he could now. He had to leave. There’s only so much hurt he can take and Dean is shutting him out and not listening to him.

Here’s the twist about Cas. He both does and doesn’t believe Dean is speaking his truth. Cas’s gutted, shocked face at what Dean says brings Dean up short, it’s so raw. Dean’s realization of OH F*CK WHAT DID I JUST DO comes instantly, both from his own words ringing in his ears and from Cas’s reaction. The thing about Cas’s reaction, is that it has a bit of “oh you did not JUST” to it, where I think maybe Cas knows this is total BS and Dean is full of it but Cas also believes it. Cas feels like a failure. He feels like he has failed everyone. And now here’s Dean, his favorite person in the actual literal universe, telling him he is. Blaming him, when Cas knows intellectually that it isn’t actually all Cas’s fault, but nobody blames Cas for things more than Cas himself does.

This jacks right back into all of Cas’s deepest fears about not belonging. About being lonely. About being expendable and the afterthought in Team Free Will. One thing I’ve pointed out over and over is part of Cas’s drive to protect Jack is needing to be needed. Dean and Cas is not a parallel relationship to Sam and Dean, it wasn’t formed the same way, it doesn’t function the same way. They are very very close, but there also is no Sam to Cas’s Dean, until Jack. This is not about seeking or needing a codependent relationship. Putting it more baldly, while there’s a brothers-in-arms aspect to Dean and Cas, they are not sibling bonds/like-sibling bonds/parent-child like bonds, Dean and Cas are lovers, spouses, chosen not-actually-platonic life-mates, they are coded as a couple or as spousal over and over. Strip that layer out and trying to meta this becomes a lot of “but why??”

The answers are simple. Don’t strip out the subtext, and the by now textually-level implied nature of Dean and Cas’s relationship. Which doesn’t mean I am saying it’s been consummated, but it also is what it is.

I’ve also pointed out how Cas’s immortality offers him the emotional horror of being the survivor, of Sam and Dean dying and Cas losing them and living forever onward without them. Ironically, becoming so attached to Sam and Dean fed his loneliness, because now he has that fear of losing them and living on forever without them.

Cas too has done a lot of growing, and like Dean, just last season showed how far he’d come. In Cas’s case, when he voiced that he knew Sam and Dean were there for him, and that Cas realized that he was enough. But as with Dean, those deepest shadows and insecurities don’t just magically go away and Cas still fears that he doesn’t mean to Sam and Dean what they mean to him and Cas, right now, feels like a failure to everyone he loves. Shoulder tap from another Dean and Cas parallel—“you fight and you fight for this family, but they don’t need you, not like you need them” which the YED used to taunt Dean way back when.

No matter how much Cas might understand about what Dean really feels, or about his own actual culpability, I don’t see how Cas could do anything now but walk out. Cas has never left Dean because he needed to leave Dean, because staying with Dean hurt too much. Cas has had to leave Dean, or left Dean, at various points for various reasons and it was never because he personally needed to leave because of his Dean feelings. Cas has had to leave because of world-saving stakes angel business missions, or because he was captured, or brainwashed, or murdered, or because his own headstrong decisions resulted in events that separated them, or he was protecting their son Jack. It wasn’t because Cas wanted to leave. Cas doesn’t want to leave now but he also needs to, personally.

The fact that Cas so candidly stated those fears here startled me. I was hopeful for more emotional candidness, but this is even farther than I’d hoped. This is going to the root. And yes it is incredibly exciting. As emotionally horrifying as this storyline is, the purpose is to move things forward to an even better place. This arc isn’t here for destruction. Things are being shaken out big time and it’s only going to make the bonds stronger once things are worked out. There’s already been a string of big moments in the show’s history showing just how deeply Cas is loved, and how much Dean loves him. If you were waiting for even more verification, just wait for it.

What’s also leaving me SHOOK is how very very very SPECIFIC this is. There’s a reason my Dean individual meta and my Cas individual meta is all mashed together here in a post that veers into talk about how Destiel is real. It’s things like this that show me recent SPN is serious as a heart attack about Destiel. Even if they can’t make it overt. I think a distinction needs to be made between overt/not-overt vs canon/not-canon. Destiel being non-overt doesn’t make its intention and its presence in the story not-canon. But my main point, this final scene isn’t about Team Free Will or a collective “how Cas feels about humanity.” This is unambiguously about Dean, and about Cas, and about Dean & Cas and their long relationship, and SPN is really f*cking serious about how important this is to both of them and how important it is to the show’s story.

#Dean Winchester #Castiel #meta #destiel #spn #supernatural #supernatural spoilers

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tsuki-chibi · 6 years ago

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Marichat May Day 16: Ghosts

“Eat up, Tikki. Hurry,” Marinette said, fumbling around in her purse for cookies. She finally got her hands on a couple and pulled them out, thrusting them at Tikki.

Tikki took them but didn’t eat, looking worried. “You’re bleeding, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked and licked her lips, tasting blood. She vaguely remembered the akuma punching her in the face while she’d been distracted by the ghost of a wailing child. That explained why her right cheek hurt so much.

“It’s fine. It’ll heal. Eat,” Marinette urged. She moved to the mouth of the alley and looked out.

Paris was enshrouded in fog. The akuma, the aptly named Ghostraiser, claimed to be capable of looking into people’s hearts and raising the ghosts of those they missed most. Marinette wasn’t wholly sure that was true; she thought the ghosts might just be a trick, but right now that didn’t matter.

She couldn’t see her partner at first. He’d said he would be okay facing Ghostraiser while Ladybug pulled back to feed her kwami after a disastrous attempt at a Lucky Charm. But Marinette wasn’t so sure. This akuma was particularly strong and tricky.

Her fears were confirmed when the fog suddenly billowed apart. Chat fell out of the fog and landed hard on his knees and elblows. Ghostraiser cackled somewhere above them, raising the hair on the back of Marinette’s neck.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” A ghost formed in front of Chat. Marinette tensed as the features solidified into a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and green eyes, wearing a white gown.

Chat sat up, baton forgotten on the ground beside him. “Mère?”

Chat’s mother. Marinette tightened her hands into fists.

“Ma petite,” the woman said, a smile crossing her face. Like the other ghosts, she was see-through and the edges of her were distorted.

“Mère, is that really you?” Chat whispered. His eyes brightened with tears as he slowly stood. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know you have, but I’m here now. I won’t ever let you go,” the ghost said. She reached out to him. To Marinette’s horror, Chat stepped forward.

“Tikki! Are you done?!” Marinette looked around, but Tikki still had several bites of cookie left even though she was eating as fast as she could.

“My darling,” the ghost said. “My poor, lonely darling.”

“Get away from him!” Marinette yelled, deciding in a split second that they didn’t have the luxury of waiting for Tikki to finish. She ran forward.

Both the ghost and Chat ignored her. “Come here,” the ghost crooned, opening her arms. Chat took another step.

“Chat, no!” Marinette cried, running up behind him. She threw her arms around Chat’s waist in an effort to stop him. People who got touched by the ghosts disappeared. She didn’t know where they went, but it couldn’t be good.

“Come here, Darling,” the ghost called. Chat moved forward, dragging Marinette along. It was like he was compelled to go to the ghost, and, without Tikki, Marinette wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

“No! Chat, you can’t leave me!” Marinette exclaimed. “It’s me! Marinette!” She uselessly dug her heels in.

Shockingly, Chat actually hesitated. “Marinette?” he repeated uncertainly, like he couldn’t place her name.

She nodded frantically, hugging his waist tighter. “Yes, Marinette. Your princess, remember?”

“Don’t you want to be with me?” the ghost called out. She was too close for comfort now.

“Yes,” Chat said with a sigh, like it was all he’d ever wanted, and Marinette hurt. Terror and panic raced through her. She couldn’t let Chat go.

“No, I won’t let you have him! He’s mine!” she yelled. Impulsively, she let go, reached up and grabbed Chat’s face. She went up on her tip toes and kissed him hard.

There was a moment where she thought it wouldn’t work, and she could’ve wept out of desperation. Then, miraculously, Chat suddenly relaxed. His arms came around her waist and he kissed her back.

“Adrien, why are you foresaking me? I thought you loved me!” the ghost wailed.

Adrien?!

Marinette’s eyes popped open at the same time that Chat’s did. He looked just as shocked and flustered as she felt, but he was clearly in control of himself again: he let go of Marinette but this time kept a protective arm around her.

“You’re not my mother,” he snarled at the ghost. Marinette recognized her now. It was the woman whose portrait hung in the Agreste home.

“Don’t talk to me that way!” the ghost screamed.

“Cataclysm!” Chat jumped forward and raked his claws through the ghost. She fizzled out of existence. Chat didn’t get up right away, but remained kneeling on the ground.

“Chat?” Marinette whispered. The fog was closing in again. A chill ran down her spine.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Marinette. It was dangerous,” Chat said without turning to look at her.

Marinette bit her lip, then moved towards him. She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t let her take you away, Chaton. You’re my kitty, my partner, my other half. We belong together.”

He tensed in surprise, looking up at her. “My Lady?!”

She smiled tearfully and touched his cheek. Her heart ached for him and what he’d suffered. It just wasn’t fair. And now wasn’t the time to comfort him, either. She bent to press their foreheads together and whispered words that made him gasp in wonder, then straightened up.

As Tikki came flying over, Marinette declared, “Let’s go kick this akuma’s ass.”

#marichatmay2019 #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #adrien agreste #identity reveal

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wvtermelonsugar · 5 years ago

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a man who somehow hasn’t collapsed under the weight of his own neuroses yet / post-grad at juilliard / the worse half of the alvi brothers, and together they’re known for winning the best drama award for the 2019 new york short film festival for their modern reimagining of the twelfth night / has an ego you can feel coming before he’s entered a room / would have that ego even if he hadn’t won as many awards as he has / been writing since he was old enough, poems short stories songs scripts / a functioning alcoholic slash addict and no you cannot talk to him about it he's got it under control yes even when he calls you from the drunk tank / has never listened to anyone or anything a day in his life / impulsive af / made a twitter account just to fight people who tried to come for martin scorsese over his remarks on marvel movies / constantly buzzing with the need to do something a line of coke that last bit of writing a sudden need to discover a new neighbourhood in the city / a nightmare when he can’t write but also in general tbh / there’s working well under pressure and then there’s chaos and thats how he generally operates in every aspect of his life / structure and discipline? he doesn't know her / can’t sleep at night until he’s fucked something up / doesn't sleep much in general might be less of an asshole if he took a nap / would probs be a deceased father of six by now if it weren’t for his twin brothers single handed effort to keep him a functioning member of society / and goldie who he’s constantly trying and failing to be a better man for / not sorry / for anything / ever / this was probs started because of him

needs does this man have friends? shockingly yes despite the big leave me alone energy he radiates he’s managed to make and keep friendships with poor unsuspecting ppl he took an interest in and decided would be his friends now. the kind of friend you cant shake despite his tendency to disappear and like, forget your birthday and generally be a shitty friend lmao good for brutal honesty and fun near death experiences on a night out. but also like normal shit. wild :/ exes and various hookups i’m sorry but dany isn’t, except for - pls give me the one girl he strung along in his effort to ‘’’get over’’ goldie and now she kind of hates him and he tries to make things right w her only to make them worse every now and then bc he cares about her even if its not in the way she wanted and the way he should have when he was building it all up rip / collaborators aka victims of the process, innocent mentees who deserve better, singers he writes for, others in the juilliard scifi film subplot etc / his brother's muse he hates her and probs terrorizes her every time they interact / will swing on anyone for free so rivals n nemesis he probs fucked ur girl idk everything

#sry this graphic and mans so uglie give me things pls ok ty #notoriousrp

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magiciansreversed-blog · 5 years ago

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▒▒mirror▒▒mirror▒▒

Salma’s office was darker than usual, the shades drawn, the room silent. The faint scent of overripe blackberries lingered in the air. On her desk lounged a lithe figure in a sleek pantsuit, her shirt half-untucked, her messy hair telltale evidence of some other intimate encounter. Her feet were bare and just graze the floor. She grined at Salma like a cat, as she flicked on a desk lamp, illuminating her face to reveal how shockingly similar it is to the one at the opposite end of the room. A perfect mirror image of Salma, she was, though she was far less upright and contained. She seemed pleased with herself, toying with a mouse in her claws.

Despite her relative state of undress, her gaze is just as sharp as her counterpart’s, watching Salma intently as she leaned back on the desk. Then she unfurled and slid her feet to the floor like a twisting snake. She took long, languid steps around the desk, picking up papers and barely glancing to them for a moment before tossing them over her shoulder and letting them flutter to the floor around her. She did it again and again, her gaze on Salma, her smile sharp, unwelcoming. She says nothing at all, tilting her head as if to goad Salma into responding.

Salma’s initial frustration that someone was in her office quickly faded to a concern that her powers were once again uncooperative. He mind briefly flashed to a time in her youth when her her illusions birthed from intuition and desire (both rare traits in her today) rather than logic and purpose. She tried willing the vision away, the familiar tug on her mind falling flat as the scene before her remained as real as herself. Her eyebrows furled in annoyance, and she marched across the room towards the other her, abandoning her purse by the door.

She grabbed the wrist opposite from her, cold but eerily familiar. And, terrifyingly, real. Her eyes darted to meet ones she normally only met in a mirror, but these ones were sharp and amused, not scrutinizing and darting like her own.

“What are you? Who sent you?” The word’s felt childish as she uttered them.

The mirror watched Salma all the while she approached, only going eerily still when their hands collide. Her smirk sharpened at the contact. "We're smarter than that," she purred, making no move to pry herself free from Salma's grip. She tilted her head, the second of the demands apparently piquing her interest. "I don't get sent anywhere," she said lightly, a razor edge lining the words. "Why should I listen to anyone's orders? Why do you? You're smarter than everyone you've ever met, and much, much more powerful. Why do you do what people tell you, Salma? Why do you listen to anyone at all?"

The questions were so honest, so straight-forward so...painstakingly like questions Salma had asked herself before, laying alone in her bedroom at The Lair. Thoughts and musings she had when she was alone, and most importantly, in secret. Why was that the first thing this...thing would ask her? Salma loathed not having an answer, so she tore her eyes away, turning herself to the mess it’d made instead. She worked around the stoic mirror-image, re-stacking pieces of paper, trying not to pay attention to just how out of order they now were.

The words ate at her, though. How could they not? “I don’t follow orders.” She began, hesitantly but with a firm tone to her voice. She avoided looking at the piercing eyes that followed her. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of her own intimidation tactics. “What I do is listen and to others’ when outside input is required.” She suddenly felt like she was in the courtroom, trying to defend a client’s actions and poor life choices. That didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. “You’re the only thing I have no desire to listen to. I have work to do.”

The reflection took a seat square in the middle of Salma's desk, disrupting her organization yet again. "You went halfway across the world because a cat told you to. A cat. A creature that licks its own ass and somehow thinks it's superior." She scoffed right in Salma's face. "You're letting Daniel cow you, too, even though you're clearly the only one actually putting your brain to use. Insight better serves a leader than a bunch of idiots arguing around a table, getting nothing done." She leaned forward, inches away from Salma's face, her grin still sharply curved. "Oh, you do want to listen to me, though. I know things you don't, and I know you better than anyone. I have something you'll want to hear about." She batted her eyelashes. "But then again, maybe you're not ready for it. You do seem a little too..." She shrugs one shoulder, leaning back on her hands. "Tame, for my taste."

It was easy to ignore the taunting...at first. She had defenses for all of it at an easy grab, though whether this reflection deserved the explanation was still undecided. ‘Not ready’ and ‘tame’, though, those were two things Salma couldn’t stand to ignore. Those were two things she prided herself in not being. How dare this thing accuse her of being weak? She forced herself to meet the dark eyes again, to show she was exactly not that. Defiance masked the waver hidden in her voice. “What could you possibly know that I don’t? You’re not even real.”

She began to laugh, at first a low, melodic sound, and then it grew louder, with ragged edges. "I feel pretty real though, don't I?" she taunted. "I know that there's more to your power than cute tricks. You spent all week trying to fix the flow of magic in the world, but... Why? What is it good for if it can't run loose, or be used by you?" She picked up the stapler on the desk and tossed it to the floor like it's funny. How can she not be real? "There are ways to tap into it, though. Ways to realize your full potential. Don't you know? The Magician was once an alchemist, the most powerful of people, able to accomplish anything she ever wanted with little more than her will." Her fingers traipsed across the surface of the desk toward Salma's hand, her grin mocking all the while. "You have been letting the others get in the way of what you want, because you think you have to work by some kind of code of behavior. It's little more than a cage for someone they consider dangerous. And they should. You're more intelligent, more driven, more lethal than any of them. You deserve to be in charge. You deserve to be powerful. It's been delicious for me."

Realization hit her like a freight truck barreling down the highway on a slick road. She didn’t sway away from the encroachment of her personal space. Her mirror image had said enough— enough to make her realize she was her. She was Salma. A strange, twisted, dark version of her own desires. She was no illusion, no trick, no magicked game. This was very, very real. The only thing she couldn’t put together quite yet was...why? Could it be tied to the black outs? To the ley line damages? She yearned to learn more, now, that she somewhat mildly understood what she was dealing with. So she decided to play it’s game. She leaned closer. “How would my rank or power help you? What are you?”

"Think about it this way," the mirror said, her smile fading as her tone grew rather bored. "If you're me, and I want what's best for me, then why wouldn't I offer my knowledge to you? Why everything has to be so methodical with you, I'll never get." She slid off the desk and meandered around the office, pulling things off of shelves and running her fingers along anything in reach. "Why should I do this, what's the purpose of that, is it smart, is it valuable - blah blah, just say you're spineless and go already." She turned back to Salma, her smirk creeping back. "You're a magician, you know? Literally magical. You can have whatever you want whenever you want it with just a little bit of energy. Just take. Why does anything besides what you want matter? Who made all those rules you follow? People who don't have your power or your intellect. People who are so much less than you. It feels so nice to toss off the burden of their expectations and take, do, be what you want. Doesn't it ever tempt you?"

Salma felt frozen. Speechless. Something she’d rarely experienced in her twenty-eight years on this planet. Her mind was racing; an unhinged roller coaster of emotions that ranged from defensive aggression in wanting to defend everything Feiyan has done for her, for the Council. for the entire lifespan of humanity all the way down to, well, agreeing with her. It was enough to finally distract her from the mess that was her office, now realizing that was all a distraction to begin with. She didn’t know what caused the appearance of this mirror image, but she started to understand what it was; what it wanted. A personification of her worst impulses, of her darkest desires. It wanted her to indulge. She was adamant to prove she wouldn’t.

"Of course it tempts me, but power comes from control not wild impulse. I’ve always been who I wanted to be, regardless of the perception.” She even dared to take a step closer. Mustering up the confidence to match the reflection’s poise and posture. “So what's your point exactly? Other than to annoy me and trash my office?”

The longer she listened, the more her expression went blank, until at last Salma stopped speaking and she could roll her eyes with all the drama and grace she could muster. "Power comes from control... That's rich. Who told you that, The Ancients? The Constitution?" She barked a laugh devoid of any good humor. "Control is what they teach pretty little girls to have when they're afraid of what would happen if that girl just shrieked and clawed her way out of their tidy box for her. Control is what keeps you in line. Are you the interim leader directing everyone to find Fei? No, because you've bowed to due process instead of just taking charge, even though you know you'd get it done. Have you realized you have so many more powers beyond mere illusion? No, because all this control and rules nonsense has kept you in your place, like it's meant to do. Are you even with the one person you can actually stand?" Her tongue snaked out of her mouth, sliding along her teeth slowly. "Despite all the evidence suggesting all you'd need to do is step up and go after what you want, you can't even have her, the easiest thing in the world to reach. So what are you doing, Salma? What's the point of having you here at all?"

A lump formed in her throat, the gusto Salma had managed to rile up lasted for one mere verbal volley. Were she one to blush, she might have done just that. Instead, her lips pursed shut and her eye contact faltered. She was pissed. At herself and at how right this thing was, despite her knowing that it was only trying to get a rise out of her. Well, it was working, and it seemed like there was nothing she could do at this point could stop it. Every tactic she’d tried had been met by a brick wall; by an unstoppable force. Her body language didn’t do much to hide that, either.

A wicked grin flashed across the mirror’s face when Salma wasn’t looking, and then she leaned over the desk on both hands, too close for comfort. "Do you want to know what I did?" she asked lazily, the words dripping off her lips. "The rules, the games, the waiting... They just got in the way of what I wanted until I got tired of it. Of watching her shake like a nervous little dog in my presence because she wanted me that badly. So I walked right up to her and just took that kiss I'd been craving." She tilted her head, exposing both the length of her throat and her teeth. "It was what she'd wanted too, after all. For me to just take control. You could have that too, if you stopped being so weak and whiny about it all. Or do I need to help?" She loosed a laugh from somewhere deep and dark within her. "I'm sure your Lailani is no different. This whole Council, really. Just take your rightful place and see how good, how right it feels."

Yet another thought the reflection voiced that Salma had already pondered. One too many times, and too heated and private to admit. The problem was, that she never felt that she’d have time or interest for frivolities like that. All the boys and girls in any school she’d gone to had seemed silly and childish; it was far too easy to focus on studies rather than crushes or pretty faces. Then she was thrust into a world of magic, a house on an island masked by powers of her own making. She, yet againm had something to distract her from the warmth in her chest whenever a nervous and sweater-clad, dark-haired, genuine sweetheart smiled at her. What was holding her back? What was stopping her? This was too many times her other self was right. She didn’t like it.

So she deflected.

“It’s all a moot point when Feiyan returns. The power grab is a temporary distraction.”

"If." She watched Salma, unblinking, her pupils shrinking. "Didn't you hear what that furry mongrel had to say? She's hurting, Salma. She's in pain." Her words twisted with a singsong mockery. "And nothing is going to change that if you don't." She shrugged, straightening and heading slowly for the door, tossing a pointed look over her shoulder once she's there. "You're the only one with the capacity to do what has to be done, but I'm starting to think you simply can't. It's a shame. I thought you were more like me... I shaped my whole world the way I desired. Here you are, stuck in yours, practically insignificant, and all but completely alone." She sneers. The bulb in the desk lamp burst, showering the surface of the desk with glass that is very much not an illusion. "Pathetic. I expected better."

Salma flinched at the sudden noise and darkness, her eyes slamming shut in fear of flying glass. Her mind wandered in that short moment, flashing from Marcella to Justice, to even Daniel if he applied himself. For once the mirror image was wrong. She wasn’t the only one with power to continue to guide the Council. She wasn’t even the only one outspoken enough to say so. She opened her eyes again, staring after the now shrouded figure, longing to prove it wrong, but her mouth felt dry, and her mind moving too fast to form words. A large chunk of her mind not being able to shake the visual of marching up to Lailani and stealing a kiss that she’s craved for seven years. So instead she just watched as the figure waited, perhaps expecting some kind of response, or for Salma to beg her to come back, but nothing comes.

It's not unexpected - she always was stubborn, after all.

It walked right out the door and didn’t look back, disappearing into smoke and shadow as soon as she's out of Salma's sight.

#event.03 #drabbes;;#welPPp

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icariamusing · 4 years ago

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CHARACTER BASICS

FACECLAIM: Phoebe Tonkin

NAME: Anya Venturi

AGE: Twenty Eight

BIRTHDAY: November 30th, 1992.

OCCUPATION: Freelance photographer

HOMETOWN: New York City, NY.

PETS: Kali (German Shepherd)

POWERS

Aerokinesis: ability to create, shape, and manipulate air particles.

Atmokinesis: ability to manipulate wind gusts to varying degrees and create low-grade storms

Deoxygenation: ability to remove oxygen from the surrounding environment.

Limitations: Her powers are intrinsically linked to her emotions. When she is in a heightened emotional state, she can lose basic control of her powers.

BIOGRAPHY

Anya Venturi was a breath of fresh air from the start. Anyone who has ever met her would know she’s the essence of a carefree, exuberant, and adventurous spirit who rarely ever fails to have a smile plastered across her face. Although, that may be viewing her from an overly optimistic lens. Conflicting accounts of Anya have stated she is obnoxiously loud, irritating, and an all-round pain in the ass. With her compulsive need to live life to the fullest and impulsive (bordering on insane) nature, many have also questioned whether Anya has a constant death wish or she’s simply an idiot. Whatever the case may be, there isn’t a day that goes by where Anya isn’t scheming, wreaking havoc somewhere, or making somebody regret being born by talking them to death.

Her childhood was any little girl’s dream. Even though she was an only child, Anya was apart of a huge family who all lived in the same vicinity so she rarely spent any time alone. She was always such a lively child, with contagious laughter and a mischievous grin. She would run wild with flowers woven in her hair and a dress flying behind her—a dress ripped and riddled with stains no doubt. She was born Anastasia Venturi, named after her great grandmother of Greek descent. However, the allure of her birth name did not last. Her entire family soon grew weary of screaming Anastasia at the top of their lungs whenever she got into trouble. As if that wasn’t enough, the poor girl was incapable of pronouncing her own name. So, the nickname Anya came to fruition.

For as long as anyone can remember, Anya could never be kept on a tight leash. She was a real piece of work as a child (although, nothing much has changed). At every waking moment, you could find her causing mayhem or just being A n y a for the sheer lack of a better expression. Luckily for her, she was adorable and could do no wrong in the eyes of her family. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, flash that adorable smile, and her family would be bending to her will in a heartbeat. Anya had each of her family members wrapped around her finger and could practically get away with murder. Cue the discovery of her magical abilities which only seemed to heighten her mischievous nature. She inherited the power of aerokinesis (the ability to manifest energy and control air), which her mother ordered her to keep a secret. Her dabbling started off entirely innocent: creating small gusts of wind, making objects float. But as Anya grew, so did her abilities, which made them increasingly difficult to conceal.

What most people fail to notice is that Anya has a brokenness within her that does not prevail outwardly— one she contends with alone. Growing up in the Venturi family, there was no shortage of love or finances in Anya’s life. However, there was more to her family than what met the eye. Elaina Venturi was selfish and entitled, driven entirely by greed. Nothing was ever good enough for her, not even her own daughter. Over the years, Elaina developed close ties to a criminal organization. James had become increasingly suspicious of his wife’s elusive antics. Earlier, he had uncovered the truth that Anya was not his biological daughter. However, he kept this information to himself and stood by his wife and daughter regardless. For James, his wife’s deceit about her criminal lifestyle was the last straw. He tried to leave and take Anya with him. But Elaina threatened him and James had no choice but to leave without his daughter. Just like that, Anya’s picture-perfect life came crumbling down around her. Elaina manipulated her daughter to believe it was her own fault that her father left. The sad part was she actually believed it.

Her father’s absence made Elaina relentless; she brainwashed and manipulated Anya for her own ends by twisting her way into the darkest crevices of her mind, without any sign of remorse. Her powers were a valuable asset which Elaina encouraged her daughter to harness for all the wrong reasons. With her power of deoxygenation, she was able to endanger a person’s life by physically sucking the air out of their lungs. In Elaina’s eyes, this ability worked wonders for threatening purposes. Like a weapon in a forge, her mother moulded Anya to become cold and heartless; a sharp contrast to the naturally warm and vibrant demeanour the young girl possessed. Anya soon found herself following in her mother’s footsteps and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her teenage years were a blur. Due to the nature of her mother’s ‘occupation’, Anya was condemned to secrecy. More often than not, her relationships suffered as a result. The one relationship she managed to maintain was with Deacon Locke. He was there for Anya through it all; they spilled their hearts out each other and shared every detail of their lives. Well, almost everything. That little detail about her mother’s unlawful antics was the one thing Anya never told him, in fear that Deacon would look at her differently if he knew the truth. What they had once forged as a friendship soon blossomed into a relationship. Despite everything the world had thrown at them, they found happiness in each other. To Anya, Deacon was her whole world and she never would’ve dreamed of hurting him. But fate had other plans.

DEATH TW: Anya only sunk deeper under the negative influence of her mother and fell in with the wrong crowd. With her inclination to overindulge in a party lifestyle, Anya’s friendship choices became increasingly questionable. Her best friend at the time was named Charlie. The pair were as thick as thieves, until he was killed in a car accident. Anya was a wreck and spiralled downward to the point where an altercation occurred— one which resulted in her taking somebody’s life with her abilities. It’s a memory that still haunts her to this day; when she lost control of her powers and killed someone. Just like that. All she could do was gaze into the ever-darkening eyes of the man as he verged even closer to death and eventually heaved his final breath. Shockingly, her mother actually expressed how proud she was which made Anya sick. The unforgiveable reality of her actions collapsed upon her. Anya couldn’t face anyone after what she had done, not even Deacon. So, she took off without a word.

Her newly-found freedom led to her becoming a wanderlust and she travelled all over the globe for the sheer thrill of it. However, Anya’s carefree lifestyle was cut short when she was acquainted with her biological father. Aeolus informed her of the imminent danger facing demigods and demanded her mandatory relocation to Icaria. Truthfully, she laughed in his face. Anya barely even took orders from the man who had raised her, let alone a man who had been absent for her entire life. Biologically related or not, Aeolus stood no chance. It soon became apparent who Anya had inherited her obstinance from. Aeolus enlisted the help of her adoptive father, James Venturi. Much to Anya’s dismay and to her horror, James sided with the god who knocked up his wife, rather than listening to own daughter. Several stellar re-enactments of Bruce Almighty yelling at the sky later, Anya soon realized she was fighting a losing battle. She eventually conceded and relocated to Icaria, making Aeolus regret ever having a child in the process.

Anya built an entirely new life for herself on Icaria and began to feel more at home than she ever dreamed imaginable. One of her many conditions for staying on the island and not causing a fuss was for her father to purchase her a house— to which he hesitantly obliged. Anya now resides in a lavish villa on the coast with her German Shepherd, Kali, and her frequent and unwelcome house guest (and cousin), Theo.

She finally felt as if she was getting her life back on track. That was until ghosts from her past decided to appear on Icaria, those of which included Deacon and her mother. To top it off, the same week her mother and the minotaur made their impromptu appearances, she accidentally manifested a wind gust which propelled the minotaur into Noel (her friend and best friend’s ex-boyfriend), which temporarily killed him. Anya’s mistrust for her abilities was heightened and she swore to never tap into them, purely out of the fear of history repeating itself again. Just when she was coming to terms with Noel’s death and subsequent resurrection, her best friend Millie went missing. The number of those missing accumulated, until Anya herself was kidnapped. She was snatched from her friends, family, and beloved dog, the week before she was due to travel to the States for her grandmother’s birthday. Needless to say, Anya was not a happy bunny. Throughout her time at Asphodel Meadows, she concluded that Icaria was more of a living hell and the furthest thing from the ‘safe haven’ Aeolus had pitched to her.

WREN | SHE/HER | 22 | GMT

#aeolus

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yurischolar · 7 years ago

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apparently @corypheus-crystal-dick asked me about my oc’s but tumblr hates me so!

Averna!

01. Full name: Averna Flemming-[Redacted until i decide on a good royal last name] 02. Best friend: Mame, shockingly. 03. Sexuality: Bisexual 04. Favorite color: Autumn colors! 05. Relationship status: Single (for now.) 06. Ideal mate: Someone calm and collected who pays attention to her. 07. Turn-ons: Praise, attention, hand-holding probably knowing her 08. Favorite food: Curry fish! 09. Crushes: Head of Staff, Mr. Mizushima. 10. Favorite music: Anything with string and piano, tbh 11. Biggest fear: Ending up like her mother. 12. Biggest fantasy: Ending up like her father. 13. Bad habits: Assuming the worst of people, rejecting help/companionship, hoarding anything that might be sentimental. 14. Biggest regret: Getting comfortable living life the way she does. 15. Best kept secrets: She knows exactly what happened to her mother. 16. Last thought: “ah, fuck.” 17. Worst romantic experience: Fell for a maid, they got caught, maid was fired and she was isolated even further from society. 18. Biggest insecurity: Whewf, theres...a lot. 19. Weapon of choice: Cast Iron Skillet. 20. Role Model: Her mother.

Mame!

01. Full name: Sweetheart. [Now, it’s Edamame] 02. Best friend: Averna, not that it’d admit that. 03. Sexuality: That’s too much to think about, so it doesn’t. 04. Favorite color: Pink! 05. Relationship status: Single (fooor noooow.) 06. Ideal mate: Someone who loves it. 07. Turn-ons: A sense of humor (amongst other things). 08. Favorite food: ...Cauliflower? But like, done up cauliflower. 09. Crushes: It’s hospitable roommate, Averna. 10. Favorite music: Anything loud and exciting. 11. Biggest fear: Being alone 12. Biggest fantasy: Having a big, happy family 13. Bad habits: God...everything. Starting fights and being nosy, mostly. Poor impulse control. 14. Biggest regret: Running away when [redacted]. 15. Best kept secrets: It’s heritage, likely. 16. Last thought: Let’s be real, Mame probably can’t die. 17. Worst romantic experience: N/A 18. Biggest insecurity: Being annoying, not being worthy of love. 19. Weapon of choice: Claws, Magic. 20. Role Model: His father (pre-death, of course).

#Averna's Demons #long post #god i really love them

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anthonybialy · 7 years ago

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Disagree for Death

I think the best of my political foes. I know they want to shove humans they dislike into meat grinders for the purest reasons. The minerals contained within the bodies they harvest from their rotten policies will get them some much-needed spending money, and I sympathize with anyone's income supplementation. The purity is admirable. See? Disagreement doesn't mean we have to be disagreeable.

Amicably presume foes want to kill you. Get it out in the open so we can have everyone on record. Twitter is valuable for letting users say exactly what they think, and the lack of impulse control is more helpful than impulsive participants realize.

Bad faith is suitable for a country where everyone despises everyone else so much that they don't even remember the arguments. We used to take comfort in knowing that reasonable people can have different takes. Today, that means one side thinks the other is pro-mass murder. Uncommon amity is the hallmark of our time. Comment sections are black holes of happiness where any depressed person can find common ground with a fellow human.

It sucks how the slightest cut in handouts will exterminate the poors. That one fat cay party will never care. In fact, Republicans profit from every enslaved human. The destitute run on treadmills to fuel the wealthy goons' luxury steamships. At least they're not burning more coal.

Realizing the other side has a point would be fatal, so loud noises are actually the most effective tactic. Statists despise the notion that people can care for themselves once politicians stop pretending they can. What if that money could be retained by those who earn it? Sure, it might be fair. But the practical benefits are atrocious. That money is unrestrained! People only keep what's theirs until they want more stuff. It's not like they'll hire or spend. All that would do is fix the economic problems statists maintain they oppose.

Health care is good for living and not puking all the time. It's fine to think our stupid and clumsy government is the only entity that can provide it. I would classify it as misguided. Still, a country devoted to rugged ingenuity decided removing competition increases price and quality. We're already pretending insurance is cheaper, so why not demonize anyone who thinks shopping around helps prices?

Many Americans need medical attention on account of sentient firearms marching around in defiance of the law and shooting the innocent. We're as crazy as our guns. Sure, we've seen that attempting to control them is like blaming alcoholism on lowball glasses. But it's easy to say we're addicted to violence when all we want is to scare off bad guys.

State management works aside from the results. It's one thing to disagree with the most obvious diagnosis of our clearly sick government. Spot someone willing to debate by the claim those who want the innocent enabled to shoot back have blood on their hands. The counterargument is tough to make while trying to plug wounds.

The toxicity oozes past the containment field. The perpetual anger isn't a matter of merely feeling sad for a few moments after encountering a mean tweet. Claim a slight cut in dependency will leave Americans starving, then wonder why Steve Scalise got shot. Note who found it hard to not cheer; she goes by the name Joy Reid.

It's particularly appalling that those who suck at fixing things complain that everyone else breaks stuff. You'd think people who proclaim politics can create utopia would be a little more sensitive to the hellishness they inflict. Their own policies cause pain in the sort of irony they're too earnest to find amusing. We can be kind enough to presume it's not by intent. Statist ruffians could learn from the example. They prefer distracting by maintaining that any deviation will create corpse piles.

I wish their policies were as strong as their lunatic rhetoric, as they'd really have something. The alarm specialists are in trouble when the public sees that not only is the apocalypse shockingly free of devastation but that many supposed victims have a little more cash in their pockets. I suppose having extra weight to lug around could throw off alignment. And spending it on food means potential weight gain, which exacerbates our nation's obesity problem.

But if those are the worst problems, the public's not going to be nearly as upset as hoped. Misery is necessary to pass the policies. It differs from making them actually work, at least depending on just how cynical you are. If you still possess hope, you won't fit in around here.

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