#unstoppable force. the real question is are you an unmovable object

[aimless-aimz]

hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. im gonna be evil. im gonna fucking microwave myself. aough. oh. oh. my god. is this trench warfare? is this me taking a shot at you and then you throw me a grenade killing thousands? this is war./silly ough my god. they hit the fucking morugon. good lord. points at my screen. I KNOW THAT GUY....

@aimless-aimz those thangs are thanginggggggggg

[darkfictionjude]

Even Sally who people love for being so “nice” to MC gives a love that has made them regress into a person who lacks independence and real understanding of basic life skills. An interesting question for that, is any kind of love ok as long as it’s love? Do people easily accept a love just because it’s default and there’s no other choice? That’s like the question I wanna try to answer with Sally and MC and really there is perhaps no wrong answer because I’m not a judge

Other people might play it differently, but as a reader I think that it makes sense for someone in MC's situation who hasn't been shown much love/affection/care to be grateful for Sally's love (I thought those options in the update and how MC explained them to Dr Madorna was really interesting!)

MC was ostracised from their peers likely in part due to their own actions (apart from Nia), and their other family members’ feelings towards them seems to range from indifference, fear, anger/hate, to disgust. When you receive so little you will accept what scraps you get, even if it's accompanied by toxicity or abuse (that you may not even recognise). I think that's one of the reasons why people with abusive parents are more likely to be in abusive relationships (or be abusive themselves), because it's harder for them to recognise what a healthy relationship is.

I do think that as the story goes on, as the MC develops their friendships, as they spend more time with people outside of their messed up family, as they develop more of a personal identity & worldview, etc. then my MC might start seeing Sally in a different light. But then again it does seem like the MC has some self-awareness of how much Sally has done for them. I could see them trying to appease him out of a sense of “he sacrificed for me, so I owe him”, which feels very “child of immigrant parents” lol.

You could also say that without Sally’s flawed love, the MC would have been in an even more dire position. Maybe they did need Sally to give them a fighting chance in life, but now they need to spread their wings.

Hahaha as a child of immigrant parents I liked that line

But yeah you touched on the question I asked, about how people in certain situations accept things others in more normal situations might not because it’s the only world they’ve ever known. I really liked the options with the dr madorna scene because you can chose to be an mc who is blindly devoted to Sally, if not out of love out of a sense of eternal debt, or an mc that in a way has always hated him as they view him as a jailer, another flavour of the family but still from that family and it doesn’t help that Sally has so much pride in the family name and legacy a legacy which mc has never been able to live up to and which by the circumstances of their life placed them as a undeserving of carrying the name by those who have it.

It’s interesting to think about how would mc’s life be without him, perhaps this is the best outcome or maybe they would’ve been fine, turned out like Percy, a black sheep entirely forgotten. Maybe without Sally, mc and Percy could’ve developed that bond and supported each other. I like to think mc’s chances wouldn’t have been so bad. It could’ve been better without him, could’ve been worse which is why it’s so hard for mc to untangle themselves, the dinner scene was one moment where if you chose they tried, they relented but they tried which I think is important just as they doubled down and remained ever so loyal and grateful.

I see both sides, the advantages and disadvantages. What happens when an unstoppable force crashes against an unmovable object?

[sparows-world]

I made what I think is my first real Sonic OC, I'm not sure though.

Mido is a Holland lop Bunny from an alternate universe where the restoration wasn't able to cure the metal virus, but also didn't fall.

There is many changes in this universe on how the virus works, the the events, and the solution.

Go ahead and ask me for what the story is behind this universe, and or behind Mido.

I will get the general basic things for you.

Mido is distant from people, hard to make long-term friendships when your friends keep turning into zombots.

Mido is biologically female, however they prefer non-binary pronouns. (Why did I make them non-binary if I'm going to say that they're biologically female? That's because it plays a role in how the character Acts.)

Mido was born during the outbreak, and and never got to know their parents to begin with. All they knew was the restoration, and that was perfectly fine with them.

Mido had a wispon that resembles a bubble gun (originally it was going to be more similar to a handgun but I figured bubblegun would have been more fitting).

When they join up in an experiment they're injected with an antivirus, not a cure per se but it does prevent the victim from turning into a complete zombot unlike the original virus. The antivirus itself does have some quirks, enhancing mobians to be even more supermobian than usual including stuff like enhanced brain processing power so on and so forth.

Reason why not everyone takes this antivirus is that there's a good chance that you could end up a zombot instead of a supermobian.

I got the idea of using a virus to stop a virus, kind of like how an unmovable object collides within unstoppable Force.

If you have any more questions feel free to ask, just know I might not be able to answer everything immediately. I might take time to actually tell you things, this is likely because I'm busy with real-world stuff or didn't get the notification.

[ddanosaur]

for the aa ask game: 7, 15, 20 (😉), 36, 42, 43, 57, 67, 78, 98 ❤️

this is a lot so you dont have to answer all of them but i thought the questions were really fun hehe

hi hehe ty for all the questions dora!!

7. Favourite Design?

there's a lot of designs i like so idk if i have a fav, but i'm just gonna go ahead and say beanix. dude is comfy and chillin' and i respect that

15. Random headcanon you can share?

i have,,, so many,,, but one of my favs is that one of trucy's fav movies is The Parent Trap, but she's never seen it all the way through. she always falls asleep partway through, and has gotten as far as the return from the camping trip but has never seen past that somewhat related is that trucy and phoenix do in fact know annie and hallie's handshake/dance from the movie and can do it perfectly

20. Did you ever write fanfiction for Ace Attorney? If so, which one is your best piece

i have! i've written a few fics (and an essay) for ace attorney, and more wips trapped in my gdocs. i think my best piece is my nightmare fic from nrmt week earlier this year! it was my first AA fic and i'm still very proud of it

36. Prettiest eyes?

this is probably the expected answer from me but i'm gonna say phoenix. there's just so many different ways ppl portray his eyes (brown, blue, dark, light, variations of heterochromia) and i think that's neat!!

42. Unpopular opinion?

idk how unpopular this is but i think bratfeen is cute in theory but would be an absolute train wreck in practice. both of them are at very unstable points in their lives, with feenie being incredibly emotional and reactive (as we saw in 3-1) and bratworth being so under mvk's thumb. it would very much be "unstoppable force meets unmovable object" in a way that would just end in disaster and heartbreak

43. Favourite OST?

there are so many good ones but i'm going with my first response which is lang's theme, Speak up, Pup. it's so good i love it

57. Which character would you never want to meet in real life?

*timmy turner's dad's voice* Matt Engarde i love him as a villain but he's such a bitch that i would have to physically restrain myself from punching him and i don't think i'd be strong enough to

67. A character everyone else hates but you like even though you understand the hate that they get?

i don't think i have one? most of the characters i like are generally well liked from what i've seen. i think there are some characters that are generally well liked that i don't even tho i see their appeal

78. Who or what got you into AA?

a lot of my mutuals on twt and ppl i was in a server with were really into it, and i thought it looked like something i'd be interested in, so i downloaded the trilogy onto my phone and the rest is history

98. Which character do you trust the least to pick out a movie for a movie’s night?

kristoph. i feel like he'd have bad taste in movies and also be super pretentious about it in an annoying film bro way. i don't think i'd enjoy whatever movie he picked or the experience of watching it with him

Ace Attorney: 100Q Ask Meme

[deathinfeathers-a]

Oh. They're moving now. Okay. She can dig that.

No questions. No objections. She follows along, eyes riveted to their interlaced hands, a visual which enmeshes her addled mind in a warm embrace of fond feelings and not so distant memories. It makes her feel safe, which may very well be the last thing she ought to be feeling in this environment but God if she won't cling to this with ever delusioned fiber of resolve she's got in her.

She misses him. She misses him so much that the chronic ache in her chest has long cemented itself as something she just has to live with now. It doesn't go away. It doesn't get better. It never gets better.

But this can be her morphine drip for the time being.

You know...if she squints real hard, he almost, kind of looks like him, sort of?

Ah! It's dark now. Where are they?

Oh, right, she doesn't care. Not while she has access to the bottomless reservoir of venom behind his lips anyhow. When he takes his perch upon the edge of the mattress she all but plunges right into his lap. Something strong-arms it's way through the haze when he mutters his proposal into the nugatory space between them, though. A morsel of clarity.

"Wh—...I don't...I don't think that I...can. this feels...nnnh—"

Wrong? Yes, definitely wrong. Bad! Bad, bad, bad! But so good! An unstoppable force of carnal desire crashing against the unmovable object of her better judgment...but in this instance it isn't actually entirely unmovable...she's loosing herself....she's loosing herself and it frightens her.

She is ambrosia, nectar of an excotic fruit sown, reapt, squeezed and fed to you out of the hollow of God's own palm. The essence of the heavenborn is nothing you will find anywhere else in the universe; the closest a sinner like himself will ever get to experiencing true divinity. Warm and sweet like molten honey, mollifying in a way that could banish the ghosts out of the deepest, darkest niches of the most tormented mind and yet deeply invigorating, all at the same time; a shot of pure, unadulterated zest for life straight to the heart.

Little, Dagger-esque talons tangle themselves deep inside his silken neck ruffle, anchoring herself to his form, as if he were the last lifeline keeping her secured to this reality. It is pure instinct that propels her to sink herself as deep as she can reach inside this entanglement of mouths and tongues and teeth. A deeply concupiscent need, greater than anything she has experienced before, so overwhelming that any sense of right or wrong, rhyme or reason has long been swept away by it's unremitting current.

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

��They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[scribbly-dee]

Question- how well do you think the Monster Pig Or the Admiral would have done as the archivist?

Extension of this post where I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Monster Pig 6/10, points awarded for initiating a pacific rim style apocalypse with himself as the kaiju, points deducted because he's a successful one pig union against the fear bosses and would literally eat the rich.

Idk if we ever got more meat on the bones re monster pig's entity influence but I interpreted him as a flesh/slaughter duel alignment. This avatar apparently walked off an ax chop but also "couldn't be bothered" to kick the lock off the barn door and help himself to some real havoc. Instead of seeking out brains to eat in cafés like Jon, he was content with letting havoc come to him instead and you know what? It worked? Like a black hole, the lack of fucks given created a vacuum which pullef both Gertrude and Jon to him.

He refused to terrorize any more than necessary. Fear bosses and their insatiable hunger be damned, Monster Pig will punch his time card every day at 4:30 p.m. and say "I'm done cannibalizing Toby the pig for today, see you at 8:00 a.m., Comrade Dylan Anderson." Antichrist point deduction for eating the cogs in TMA's capitalism metaphor

The marks would be a non-issue, he can apparently survive attacks ranging from stabbing to pennywise, the clown he ate. He has a ton of weird scars, so he may already be fully marked, which restores some points. But he still insists on doing it strictly within work hours, and will otherwise go on strike a la fucking off to a new farm and eating the competition.

The multiverse plan ultimately doesn't work because after Monster Pig slowly eats every avatar and trapped denizen, he would move on to eat the fear gods, which poetically solves the overharvested fear-farm dilema the Web was stressing over. Play stupid games, win stupid pr👁zes.

The Admiral 5/10, unstoppable force, Jon Sims's using his body as a stab vest for his son, meets unmoveable object, a tragedy chocolate torte that the cat steals off the counter despite all cats disliking sweet tastes and an inability to survive chocolate

Look me in the eye and tell me either Jonathan sims, head archivist magnus institute London or Jonathan sims, acclaimed writer/performer who openly avoids animal death in his podcast, would ever let anything mark to this boy. Hilarious.

That said, my cats crave death and I can't be everywhere at once. One time my cat chased a tiny lizard, the lizard bit his nose and clamped down so it was swung around as my cat flailed. My cat swatted it off, immediately went back to hunting the lizard, immediately got the lizard stuck on his nose again. If Michael does that trick where he pulls a jump road through a spiral door to lure children, he would immediately snag The Admiral, that's just science. Even if The Admiral survives, Michael just needs a new piece of string and he's back in the game.

(Those lizard bites are comparable to a clip-on earing, btw, my cat was surprised, not hurt)

The eye mark would be easiest to obtain once Beholding!Jon realizes he can speak cat. Jon deadass saturates him enough so eventually this cat can also read watcher crown statements. Despite The Admiral now having the likewise power to understand human, he's exactly as recalcitrant as a trained cat who doesn't feel like doing tricks. This is the immediate roadblock the entities encounter and honestly, they're not even mad.

How is this different than Monster Pig eating the cogs in the metaphor you ask? Monster Pig does just eldritch bullshit, no more no less, but it's all on his terms. The Admiral's tomfuckery will be the flavor of tomfuckery that aligns with the fear gods goal if we're lucky and we'll take what we can get.

As soon as The Admiral starts his apocalypse, the world is literally, not figuratively, his ball of string and we're just living in it. Until we're not.

[lady-literature]

Literal Angel Langa Hasegawa

okay but like here me out: Guardian Angel Langa who is so bad at being a Guardian Angel. Mostly due to not having a lot of practice, admittedly, but also cause he’s Just Like That.

It basically goes down like this:

Masae does not remember the last time her son had a friend, a good one--or perhaps she does. Maybe she remembers how he was Before and so maybe she sees how dim his smile is now. Brighter than others, perhaps, but practically a candle flicker where there was once a forest fire.

Her son is a happy child, is a vibrant child, but all that means is it is harder for others to see when he suffers, when he hurts.

Her Reki is lonely.

And it seems to get worse every year that passes. Unable to connect, unable to find others who are like him.

Masae is not a religious woman, she doesn’t often put faith in superstitions or urban myths, but as she cleans up after dinner one night, a shooting star passes by the window and Masae wishes.

(There is something powerful about belief. But lacking that, as Masae does, there is something powerful about the desperation of a mother.)

Three days later, Langa, angel of the falling snow and mountain air, is given a new charge. His second charge ever, to be exact. He isn’t told why he’s been assigned to Reki, and he doesn’t ask. If it was important to his job, he figures he’d have been told, right?

Most Guardian angels don’t immediately reveal themselves to their charges, but Langa’s never really been much like ‘most angels’ he supposes. And Reki takes it pretty well, he thinks.

After he stops freaking out and screaming, he seems intrigued by Langa and his… everything. He asks a thousand questions, or, at least, he starts to. Reki gets as far as asking about halos and powers and ‘wait does that mean God’s real too?’ before getting caught up on all the things Langa has never done before. Such things include: eating a bento box, going swimming, going to school, skateboarding-

The last one, of course, is reminded immediately.

The moment Langa steps on the board, it’s like he can feel Reki’s passion for it thrumming there next to his grace, bright and exhilarating and new. If Langa had a heartbeat, he thinks it’d be thundering in his chest.

The moment lasts a whole two seconds before Langa, all stiff angles and unbending form, makes the skateboard shoot out from under his feet and sends himself flat on his ass.

But the spark has been lit, and Langa wants more.

From there I think the AU would follow canon with Reki dragging Langa to S for a job (that he still fucks up) and Langa skates using his Snowboarding Skills (and this is where we’d learn that Langa’s first charge was Oliver, roughly fifty years ago, who taught Langa snowboarding and was practically a father figure and who’s death crushed Langa). Other things happen like in canon, but Mostly, it’s about Reki teaching Langa all these human things and the two becoming friends even if that wasn’t the goal.

(Or, at least, not what they thought was the goal.)

Other headcanons I have for this that are less coherent than the above and thus are placed in bullet points:

Langa’s grace is cold like snow, like winter mountains, like frozen ponds. His hands are freezing and often, Reki complains about how cold he is.

Langa jumps high in the air and does so many flips because gravity doesn’t pull at him the way it should. He exists outside of it, and when he is up there, seemingly miles above the ground, Reki is reminded that his best friend is not human, is not even close. Langa is divine and holy and brighter than the stars and snow in sunlight.

To even stand at his side, to watch him as he skates, as he exists on Earth, Reki is blessed.

Langa, often, forgets to be squishy and human. His grace turns him to stone, to marble, to an unmovable object that could stand against anything but the full might of God.

(But Reki is his unstoppable force. Reki reaches for him, throws himself at him and tugs him places. Reki moves him, even when he hadn’t thought to be moved, and something in Langa wonders about that, wonders how this boy with a smile like sunshine melts his granite flesh into fragile human skin.)

Excerpt: Reki likes to direct with touch, and the more Langa lets him, the handsier he gets.

I'm thinkin I make Miya a minor trickster spirit

Ala actual Japanese folklore

Possibly a kitsune? Not sure why he’d be skating but you can bet it’s for something mischievious

Miya still meets Langa because ADAM told him to, but basically walking into the shop stops Miya dead in his tracks and turns him and Langa into the spiderman meme of just pointing at each other

The first time ADAM calls Langa Eve, everything clicks in his mind and Langa starts laughing cause like,,,,,, he’s met Adam and Eve, and woo boy. Sir, we do not have the time to get into how all of what you said is bullshit

Somewhere towards the ‘end’ or whateves, when Langa is feeling more human than angel, he starts kind of mentally comparing Reki to The Apple. Reki is Langa’s Temptation and all that other stuff. (it’s a lot of imagery things and flowery words but trust me, it’d would punch you in the fucking chest)

Every moment Langa spends in his presence, the further he falls from his place in the heavens. For what could be better than this? He had been in heaven for eternity, and never has it felt like this, never has Langa loved like this.

No one told Langa that humanity felt so free, so infinite. And certainly no one told him he could find it in an Okinawa boy with hair like fire and a smile like everything Langa wants.

The Reki Angst is shifted just a bit in that Reki is standing next to these beings that are more than he could ever be (his best friend is a literal angel, I mean, how is he supposed to compete with that??) and he just feels…. small. Unremarkable. They’re all amazing and brilliant and he’s just,,, human. What can he even offer them? These beings who existed long before he did and who will exist long after him?

Reki tells Langa that he and him just aren’t a good match anymore except it hits so much worse because Langa was chosen for Reki and Langa is just like: “Do you… do you want someone else?” (Do you not want me anymore?)

But of course Reki doesn’t want a new angel and basically is like: “No! I don’t- why do you care so much? I’m just some person. You’re an angel! Someone who saw the beginning of the world and I don’t- why do you care about me? Don’t you get it? Heaven was wrong. I’m not important and I’m not going to be!”

And Langa, this poor baby boy, just stares at him and says: “You’re important to me.”

[killshield]

            they’ve become quite the paradox. shield, unironically, and spear; unstoppable force and immovable object. two incompatible premises with an uncanny ability to piss each other off. 

            the intel that had fallen into ward’s lap two weeks prior would have been inconsequential to anyone else. it was an easy connection to make: one of sunil bakshi’s close associates, a low - ranking member of old hydra, apprehended by SHIELD agents during a routine sweep of a former base of operations. ward harbored no delusions as far as allegiance went; what he’d done to bakshi was enough incentive for anyone to flip. no coincidence that this follows so closely on the heels of roman briggs’ jailbreak. coulson needed the excuse, and ward’s schedule happened to have an opening. 

            a change in the very air between them as soon as they’re alone. charged; alive, like the air before a storm.

            alone. curious, ward notes, that coulson doesn’t hide behind deathlok this time.

            he holds up a photograph, a full - color freeze - frame printed off the footage from a surveillance camera. not an accident: a challenge. 

            “nice glamour shot,” he says dryly. 

            ward smiles. “should’ve had it framed. not my best angle, but —”

            “c’mon, ward.” what curves the line of coulson’s mouth isn’t amusement. “let’s skip the pleasantries. we both know you’re not that modest. you wanted my attention? congrats. you got it. now tell me what you want with briggs.” 

            “it’s funny,” ward muses, disregarding the second half entirely, “you say that like i ever lost your attention in the first place. and here i thought you had bigger fish.”

            “it’s a wide net.” 

            “is it.”

            “you exposed yourself to break him out of a secure facility crawling with agents, most of whom would kill to see you back in a cage. why?” 

            again, the question is ignored. “you tried that. didn’t work out so well.”

            “you wanna know what i think?”

            “not really.”

            another tiny, humorless uptick. coulson leans forward on the table, wary, measured where ward is relaxed. 

            “i think you might be just deranged enough to believe you’re actually doing him some sort of favor. that in your own backwards, twisted way, you’re setting him free, when all you’ve really done is take away his only chance at starting over.” 

            deranged. deluded. same song, ward thinks disinterestedly; different verse, albeit only by a key or two, if that. his brow arcs. 

            “right. a clean break, no more looking over his shoulder — sounds familiar. it’s a good speech. almost had me fooled the first time around. second time, not so much. don’t patronize me, coulson. SHIELD was neutralizing a threat, nothing more, nothing less.” 

            “and you took it upon yourself to willfully unleash that threat,” coulson says. “so i’ll ask again — why? i’m sure you did your homework. roman briggs is an unknown variable, a powder keg ready to go off. some might say he’s a liability. i know you, ward. you’re way too calculated to bet on that kind of horse.”

            “see, that’s the difference between us.” ward cants his head a fraction of an inch to one side, arm poised, elbow bent, along the back of his chair. “where you saw a wild animal that needed breaking, all i saw was potential. an opportunity.” 

            “an opportunity for what? don’t tell me loyal henchmen are in such short supply these days that hydra’s resorted to bargain - hunting from SHIELD holding cells. oh, speaking of —”

            “henchmen, or shopping trips? sounds like a date.” 

            “loyalty. you’re already slipping. how do you think i managed to track you down?”

            “educated guess — ? bakshi’s guy folded like a cheap suit the moment you promised him protection. how’s he enjoying SHIELD custody so far?” 

            “you’re good.” 

            “and you’re predictable. you didn’t just come here to talk about briggs, and you definitely didn’t come without backup.”

            a grim smile, peppered with skepticism. “but i’m supposed to believe you did?”

            “well — yes and no.” something almost metallic flickers behind ward’s eyes, a hollow - point spark. slow pull to draw a cellphone from his pocket, his opposite palm mildly raised at the spasm of movement across from him: coulson, on reflex, twitching toward a weapon. ward regards him with another scant raise of brows and connects the call with the successive press of two buttons, then a third to put it on speaker. still watching coulson, he says, to the receiving end, “how are we looking?”

            roman’s voice. calm, steady. “target secured. ready to move on your signal.”

            coulson boomerangs his focus; ward, down to the phone, up again to ward.

            “good. hold position and wait for the green light.” the way his mouth curves at each corner isn’t a smile, not even the facsimile of one. it’s a quiet taunt, preceding the ghost of something thoughtful that falls short of sincere. “you know, SHIELD still has a surprising number of active safe houses, and most of them really aren’t that hard to find. couldn’t have been fury, he was too cloak - and - dagger for that. so it must’ve been your call, huh? pretty careless, director. seems you’re already slipping.”

            a muscle tic. the flare of both nostrils. otherwise, coulson is composed; ward will give him that. “quit screwing around, ward — what did you do?”

            “yeah, i don’t screw around, you of all people should know that. and i haven’t done anything, at least — not yet. if he doesn’t hear from me in the next fifteen minutes, though,” he gestures with each hand, a blown out breath, mimicking an explosion. “different story. you’ll be down half a dozen agents, just like that. good people, too. i checked. so, the question is, are you willing to make that sacrifice just to take me in? you know you won’t be able to hold me. you never could.”

            “you’re bluffing.”

            “like i was bluffing with may’s ex - hubby? c’mon, coulson. maybe it’s been a while since we’ve exchanged christmas cards, but things haven’t changed that much.”

            no. they’re past that. 

            “okay.” aside from the shadow that crosses his gaze and the barely perceptible curl of his lip, coulson maintains neutrality. or what passes for it. "then answer me one thing.”

            a beat. ward waits, unmoved. 

            “what’s randall prescott have to do with any of this? what was so important that you and briggs went all the way to portugal to murder a guy who’s been off the radar for years? i’ve seen briggs’ file — they were in the same orphanage, back in the day, but after that, it’s quiet. no connections, or none that left a paper trail. so what is it about him? what’s the significance of executing a defected hydra agent and his wife in cold blood? on their anniversary, no less, but you probably knew that.”

            “they had a falling out.” in deference to coulson’s look, he elaborates, “prescott and briggs. wanted to reconnect, dig right down into the roots of their true feelings. i’m not a shrink, but i really think they made some progress.”

            “ah — so that’s what this is.” the look shifts from uneasily perplexed to comprehending, disparaging. “a revenge kick, just like you manipulated agent 33 into. figures. i mean, after you shot her to death, you were a clyde without his bonnie. should’ve known it was only a matter of time before you found yourself a replacement.”

            the first slip of emotion — visceral, raw, but securely contained, effectively distilled — comes out in the brusque undercurrent of a scathing tone. “and what about you, coulson? you find your replacement yet, or can you still not shake the memory of rosalind bleeding out in your arms?”

            a mirrored response. “i’m not the one who slaughtered her, you sick son of a bitch.”

            “but she’d be alive if it weren’t for you. let’s skip the pleasantries.” ward’s jaw works at the curve, hard and sharp. the hint of a sneer. “as for what happens next, you have two choices. i get up, and i walk out, and you tell your reinforcements to stand down — or, six SHIELD agents pay the price. they’ll die quick, which is more than i can say for you. so what’ll it be? we’ve got about,” he tips his wrist, checks his watch, “nine minutes left. and trust me when i say, he isn’t the ‘no news is good news’ type.” 

            “you’re not walking out of here, ward. i won’t make that mistake again. it’s over.”

            “shoot me, then,” ward invites, arms spread as he rises to a stand. “end it, right here, right now. you’ll still lose some of your people, but ...”

            “i’m never gonna stop,” coulson levels out, as he, too, gets to his feet; levels, although emphasis catches on every word like his tongue is serrated, “you do know that, don’t you? that for the rest of your short, miserable life — no matter what you do, ward. no matter where you go, or how far you run, i will always be right behind you.”

            “and that’s just it, coulson.” ward lowers his arms and smiles. no warmth reaches his eyes, nor the deep well of shadow around them. “you’ll never be able to catch up.”

            he moves, and almost anticipates coulson to follow. 

            he moves, and almost expects an icer to the back. maybe a real bullet. maybe they’re past that, too. 

            he moves, and coulson stays. 

            at the door, he pauses to catch coulson’s eye one last time. 

            “give my best to the team,” he says. “you know — for old time’s sake. i’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” 

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Kakegurui, Episodes 4-7

In which self-determination breaks the mold, the system can’t handle noncomformism, and I realize this show’s making a flawed, but fascinating feminist statement.

Break the Mold

The most important thing to recognize about Kakegurui is that it’s not a sports anime. What I mean by that is, most sports anime are deeply invested in the mechanics of their particular sport or sport-adjacent activity, and the excitement of the matches comes from how well everyone is able to work within those rules to their benefit. Haikyuu’s volleyball matches place a lot of focus on the importance of every kind of player on the field and each of the roles they fulfill, and how the teams try to maximize those combinations to keep the balls slamming down on the other side of the court. But Kakegurui doesn’t really care about the strategy involved in the various games its characters engage in. The only real strategy at play is who’s got better mind games than who, and who set up the right plans ahead of time that can be revealed when the situation seems most desperate to turn the tables both on their opponents and the audience’s expectations. They’re essentially a ruse and if you go looking for the same level of strategy in Kakegurui you’d expect in other sports anime, you’ll probably come away disappointed. I mean, every match pretty much just boils down to “I knew you knew I knew you knew I was gonna do that” (or as the characters themselves amusingly put it, ”This game is now just a big series of bluffs!”), and you end up questioning how, say, nobody freaking noticed Yumeko and Mary’s debt cards were switched, or why Midari would bother to reverse both cameras considering they’d just cancel each other out, or how Yumeko’s senses can be so consistently, impossibly sharp as to pick out every little detail that gives away the opponent’s game. Point is, if you come to Kakegurui looking for airtight mind games, you’re gonna be pretty disappointed, because that’s just not where its focus us.

Thankfully, where its focus is is plenty compelling in its own right; the fucked-up power structure of the school itself. Kakegurui Academy is a place of hypercapitalist conformity that encourages the dehumanization of everyone it deems unworthy and forces them to toe its line or else. The student body is “encouraged” to relentlessly mock the house pets under the assumption that they’ll never recover from that shamed position, and the pets themselves are forced to pay their debts by following the life plans the student council writes up for them. They’re essentially forced into debt slavery like so many unfortunate people today, though in this case the punishment isn’t prison, it’s losing your ability to self-determine right down to the choice of if/who you’ll marry and have kids with. Meanwhile, the student council profits from this exploitation and then holds events where it gives back some of the money it stole, acting as if it’s a charity favor they’re doing for the people who don’t have the strength to make it on their own. But because of how conformist this system is, it isn’t flexible enough to adjust when it runs into irregularities. Mary’s former “friends” are so convinced she’ll remain a Mittens forever that they mercilessly mock her per the StuCo’s directives, but they genuinely don’t know how to approach her when she escapes that designation. They were fully committed to thinking of her as irredeemably less than human; what are they supposed to do now that she’s supposed to be human again? The system can’t handle that rejection of its designations; if it can’t bend, then the only option left is to break.

An Unlikely Revolutionary

And that’s where Yumeko comes in, the unstoppable force that’s come to crash against society’s unmovable object. Yumeko is 100% self motivated, 100% committed to following her own goals, and those goals just happen to be 100% opposed to the rigid conformity enforced by this school. She wants to gamble for gambling’s sake, to relish in the rush and thrill of doing something solely because you genuinely enjoy it. She has no patience for the social backstabbing and cheap mind games of the student council and their philosophy; if you’re not fighting for your own sake, then you’re not worth fighting at all. As she says to Tsubomi to inspire her own rebellion, “If you don’t raise your head against injustice, nothing will change.” She's insane, but she’s not crazy; she knows exactly why she’s fighting, and if you get in her way, there will be blood. The moments where she gets the angriest aren’t when she’s threatened with bodily harm, but when her opponent tries to fudge the same in their favor, trying to monopolize the thrills for themselves or prioritizing their cheap social standing over the rush of the game itself. She’s an odd sort of revolutionary, but revolutionary is what she is, someone who in no uncertain terms forces the system to confront its inability to live up to its bluster.

And as it turns out, she’s not the only one! The student council is full of people who wish to seize life with their own hands, including the fucking president herself. It’s the great lie of capitalism writ large; it promises freedom and autonomy for all, but the only ones with the power to actually act on that autonomy are those at the top of the food chain, grinding everyone else underfoot. It takes incredible strength of personality to stand at the mountain’s summit, but the desire to use that strength to make everyone else weak is all too tempting when it makes you feel better about yourself. Yumeko’s presence doesn’t just challenge their complacency, it gives them a new driving animus to rally around, a force that’s starting to grind the stalled machinery back into motion all over again. And that’s just what the president wants; for her, this school is a social experiment to see just how much pressure she can heap upon the masses before the fear of revolution becomes less than the fear of being crushed to death. She lives for the thrill of action and agency, consequences and chaos, and if standing at the top of an oppressive system means she gets to watch from above when it all finally crumbles, that’s a sin she’s happy to take on. It’s a fascinating web of driven, determined people trying to shove each other into motion, and the fireworks are never anything less than explosive.

...Half Credit?

But there’s another element to this social commentary, and it’s here that things get a kinda dicey; Kakgurui’s oppressive quasi-capitalist system is also a tool of oppressing women. The evil dude who serves as a villain for episodes 4 and 5 is a would-be rapist who takes pleasure in abusing his much weaker female companion and using her to his benefit without any concern for her own well-being. The life plans the student council writes out include trapping the girls in marriages and forcing them to bear children. So aside from being a critique of oppressive power structures, Kakegurui is also trying to be a feminist critique of explicitly patriarchal applications of those structures, and an empowering tale of the women who seize that power back with their own hands. But at the same time, it’s also, like, horny as shit. The OP and ED are leery enough for a straight ecchi anime, and there are no shortage of peeping-tom camera angles that leave a bad taste in the mouth. Not to mention the fucking stupid attempted rape scene dripping with eroticism and ugh, can we just stop putting rape in shows unless we’re 100% sure it isn’t fetishizing one of the worst things that can happen to a person? It only exists to make the bad guy as hateable as possible, as if his future abuses wouldn’t do that just fine, and he’s fucking let of the hook for, again, trying to commit a serious felony. I know this is the same show with a chick who cums from carrying a loaded gun around campus, but sexual assault is too heavy a topic to survive that kind of comic exaggeration, especially when it’s drawn that pornographically. Blegh.

And yet, that bad taste in my mouth aside, I have to admit, I actually really like a lot of the ways this show tackles its more feminist elements. Say what you will about the horny craziness on display, this is a story about passionate, driven women who take their agency into their own hands, for good or ill, and drive their stories forward with their own values and philosophies fueling their efforts. Women are the movers and shakers that define this world; Yumeko’s the real protagonist pushing the story forward, while straight man Ryota plays support to her, and his biggest moment of growth yet is deciding to trust in her skills and hoping she’ll accept his limitations as well. His whole arc pretty much revolves around ceding center stage and letting the girls stand toe to toe in the spotlight as they take the reins of the narrative for themselves, and it’s honestly kind of refreshing how little baggage he has about it. It’s a crazy situation for him to be in, but he’s willing to roll with it and play his part to back up the true star players. And what fucking star players they are; I love the moment where Mary narrates the “happiest life a woman could lead” in her head before violently rejecting it, because screw your attempts to make her fit any box, she is her own damn woman and she’ll live life on her terms. But even that wasn’t as viscerally satisfying as Tsubomi breaking free of her ingrained inferiority complex and letting her righteous anger come spilling back out as she reclaims her personhoof from months of abuse and punishes her abuser for his endless mistreatment thanks to the suggestive prodding of a helpful hottie who makes her all hot and bothered and god dammit they even made the horniness work in their favor, didn’t they? For as colossally dumb as Kakagurui is, it’s also far smarter than first impressions give it credit for, and I remain very intrigued to see what else it’s got up its sleeve.

Odds and Ends

-”Don’t be like that. We’re classmates, right?” Good god, that smile of death.

-”Damn it, did she put a curse on me?” alkdjalskda sucks to be you

-”My hand was a pig, baaaaaaaka!” help my sides

-”I refuse to accept this!” “You permission is unnecessary.” DAAAAMN

-And in with the freaking tazer. This girl’s cool by me.

-”I... don’t mind.” ALRIGHT FINE I’LL SHIP THEM I GUESS

-”Was it right to let go of her reins?” I mean, judging by your face, I know someone else’s reins you probably want to hold...

-”I don’t want to owe you. Take. The. Hint.” Oh just kiss her already

-”Oh yeah, arrest him too.” aksdjhaskdjasd this fucking lunatic

-”Uh, that’s an air gun or something, right?” Oh, you poor innocent baby.

-Lol the disembodied wave.

-”It has to be you! Everything else is just masturbation!” ...subtle.

God damn, what a gas. See you next time!

[gotshadowbanned-feralfungii]

54 Newmann

 54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”“Okay, you know what?” Newt slammed his scalpel down onto the lab table harder than what was probably safe, stripping off his gloves so he could storm up to his co-worker without getting acidic Kaiju Blue all over the place. “I’m done! I’m done with this shit!”“I drew that line for a reason, Dr. Geiszler-”“Fuck you and fuck your line, Hermann!” That made the other man pause on his way down the ladder. Not Herms? He wouldn’t complain, but it was unusual for Newton to actually call him by his name.“You are acting like a child.” He picked up his cane from where it was resting, facing his fellow scientist with his head held high. Newt wasted no time getting up close and personal.“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I’m sick of this! Look, arguing and bickering and bantering and all that shit- that’s fine! I dig it! But I’m so sick of you talking down to me, man! You’ve been in my head, you know I hate that!” He spoke animatedly as always, hands flying and gesturing with every word. “I’m not an idiot! I have like, six doctorates! Stop talking to me like I’m fucking stupid!”“Perhaps I would be more inclined to meet with you as an equal,” Hermann began evenly, unmoved by Newton’s emotional outburst. “If you actually acted the part.”“What, so- so just because I don’t have a stick up my ass that makes me a moron?” He gestured to himself, a look of mock-surprise on his face. “Oh, well, why didn’t I think of that! Why don’t I just go steal some of my grandpas old cardigans and refuse to find joy in anything? Will I be deserving of your respect then, Hermann? Would I be smart then?”“Actually behaving like an adult of any kind would be a decent start.” Hermann was an immovable object, faced with an unstoppable force. He seemed almost bored with the argument, if he wasn’t so clearly irritated.“God- You’re impossible! I was in your fucking head and I still can’t understand you!” He threw his hands up in dramatic defeat, huffing in annoyance as he let his arms drop. His shoulders slumped in something like defeat. Then he shrugged, shaking his head, at a loss. “I just don’t get it, dude. I really don’t. What did I do to make you hate me so much?”Newt zeroed in on Hermann’s reaction to that. His shoulders tensed, his grip tightened on his cane. He turned his head, finally looked away and scowled.“I don’t hate you.” He admitted finally, spitting the words as if they were the most revolting thing to ever have been in his mouth. “I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”“...Dude.” Newt ran a frazzled hand back through his hair before spreading his hands out palm-up in front of him. “How the hell is that a problem?”“You have been in my head Newton,” he gritted the words out, finally back to glaring at the man before him. “Do not ask questions you already know the answer to.”He could never love me.Something Newt had thought a thousand times, but there was something strange when it flashed across his mind this time. It didn’t quite fit with all his other thoughts. It had the sort of strange essence of a ghost-drift, both foreign and familiar, both disconcerting and comforting.I could never hate you. You could never love me.“Man,” Newt whispered, laughing in disbelief simply because he could not deal with serious situations without inserting a bit of humour. “For a smart guy, you can be real stupid, Herms.”Hermann opened his mouth to argue, indignant, but then there were hands on his shoulders and Newton was suddenly up close and personal in quite a different way.“Is it cool if I- Can I kiss you right now?”God, I wish you would.“If it will shut you up.”“That’s the spirit.” He grinned just before leaning in, closing the space between them.

[iimmcrtalis-archive]

     She doesn’t remember really being born. Created? Sure. She remembers the bright and clean lights of the Institute. Black jacket that became her skin for a while. Having little feeling but slowly gaining it. She doesn’t remember how old she is, how long she’s been ‘alive’. See, they programmed that all out. No time tracking. No memories of her life from before, if she had one at all. Just another Courser to do their dirty work. 

    But like most people, she got tired of it.

     So she left. They sent Coursers after her. But, an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object type shit happened each time. After awhile, it stopped. Slowed down. Only one would follow her now and then. She didn’t go into hiding like the Railroad offered. No, Revas liked being out in the world. Part of her feared losing, well.. Herself. She wanted to keep her memories, whatever was left. 

    Instead, she took up with the Gunners. Easy caps, easy living. It was.. Good for a while. But, morality soon began to plague her. Killing innocent people just didn’t work for her, no matter how much money they gave her. Leaving isn’t exactly an easy thing to do when it comes to the Gunners, especially when you end up taking a few people with you. Long as they keep out of the Commonwealth, they’re fine. And they did. Traveled a lot, really. 

     A couple years were spent in the Capital Wasteland. Setting up shop wasn’t hard. Wasn’t easy either. But, eventually their little group set up outside of Rivet City. Helped merchants with travel. Helped clear out Raiders. Whatever you needed, for a price. Jobs go south sometimes, though. Sometimes they get real bad, and you lose people. And they definitely lost some people. 

   During a job against some Raiders, the group didn’t account for a death claw showing up. Neither side did. Only she & Faron made it out alive. Just barely. After that, they stopped taking those kind of jobs. Escorting and such? Sure. But no more clearing out camps. They left their old place and came into Rivet City. People respected them there, sort of. Much as they could. They were that couple that Security turned to when they couldn’t handle something. Revas was pretty handy with the sciences, and healing measures. 

   When the Lone Wanderer arrives in Rivet City they’ll be seen wandering the ship, usually keeping an eye on them. Approaching them, the Wanderer will have the option to ask why they’re following them, what they want, who they are, etc. After a few pieces of dialogue, Revas will introduce herself as Justice, and her friend as Freedom. Says codenames keep them from being too well known around the wastes. She’ll then tell them if they ever need a hand they can hire her & Freedom for 500 caps. (This can be haggled via charisma checks.)  You cannot hire one without the other. 

    Neither Revas or Faron will enter the rotunda to activate the purifier. Revas states that while she’ll take it as a compliment in her resilience, she’s not indestructible. 

    After the events of Take It Back! Revas & Faron leave the Capital Wasteland, and travel towards the Commonwealth. Within the ten year time, they’ve once again become mercenaries for hire. Unlike fellow Companion choice, MacCready, they seemingly go unnoticed by the Gunners. Unless Revas is taken to fight the Gunner leaders in Quincy. They’ll make comments about her showing her face again. 

    The Duo can be found in Goodneighbor, Diamond City or floating in between. 

NAME; Revas. ALIAS: JUSTICE AGE: Unknown. Looks like late 20′s early 30′s. GENDER; Female AFFILIATION: Faron ( Freedom ) FACTIONS;           The Institute ( Formerly)          Gunners ( Formerly )          Mercenary [  500 caps for her & Faron. 250 each. ]          Lone Wanderer ( Optional )          Sole Survivor ( Optional )                • Minutemen ( Possible )                • Railroad 

BASE SPECIAL;        [ ST 6, PE 6, EN 8, CH 7, IN 10, AG 5, LK 4 ] SKILLS:         Hacking. PERK ( after max Affinity ):    Metal Heart: Sole Survivor has a 30% damage to Synths when aiming for their chests.

LIKES:

Being kind to Synths. 

Mercenary behavior, such as asking for more money to do a quest.

 Accepting less reputable quests, e.g. The Big Dig or Whitechapel Charlie's quest to clear out the Goodneighbor warehouses.

Joining The Minutemen. 

Joining The Railroad.

Refusing AJ's bribe during The Silver Shroud.

Helping out children or parents.

Asking Bobbi No-Nose to pay more when she offers a job.

Betraying Bobbi No-Nose or siding with her in The Big Dig.

Ending Doc Crocker peacefully during The Disappearing Act.

Calling Wolfgang a scumbag.

Nostalgic descriptions of the pre-war world, such as in dialogue with Daisy in Goodneighbor.

Urging the victims of kidnapping to not give up hope in response to Piper's final question in Story of the Century.

Protecting the Railroad when speaking with Desdemona in End of the Line

Telling Miss Edna in the schoolhouse that "Children need all the love you can give."

Trying to persuade Mama Murphy to stop using drugs for "The Sight".

Curing Austin Engill.Telling

Paul Pembroke to put his gun away in Diamond City Blues.Convincing Ada to keep her personality

Agreeing to help Bobby De Luca get clean during Dependency (Approves a second time when reasonable/compassionate dialogue is used to convince him to get help).

Goes with Deacon's lie during Tradecraft.

Ask to be hired by Paladin Danse as a mercenary in Fire Support.

Sparing Paladin Danse.

LOVES:

Asking for a higher reward from Fred Allen upon being given the quest to retrieve a HalluciGen gas canister from HalluciGen, Inc.

Killing Baker in Quincy ruins.

Choosing "That's terrible" when talking to Blake Abernathy about his dead daughter.

Asking Bullet what kind of person he is. (Occurs after the 'how much' interrogative. )

Healing Dogmeat.

Keeping the Drinking Buddy in Trouble Brewin'.

Agreeing to find Billy's home during Kid in a Fridge.

Protecting the Peabody family from Bullet during the quest Kid in a Fridge.

Telling X6-88 you "don't need help" at the beginning of Synth Retention.

Choosing the sarcastic option when X6-88 tells you Gabriel's reset code in Synth Retention.

Replying "No" when asked 'Would you kill him too? Just because of who he is', when confronting Clarke during Duty or Dishonor.

DISLIKES: 

Selling Billy to Bullet.

Agreeing to "take care of" Travis Miles in Confidence Man.

Killing Jezebel after giving her a new body.

Killing the Railroad when speaking with Desdemona in End of the Line.

Telling human Art to kill synth Art.

Any sort of sarcastic/rude remarks towards Valentine or other robots & synths.

HATES:

Joining the Brotherhood of Steel.

Claiming Starlight Drive-In as a raider outpost.

Doing anything with the Brotherhood.

Murdering innocent, friendly or neutral characters.

Choosing "Leave Her" when speaking with Glory during Precipice of War.

Abandoning synth Shaun during The Nuclear Option.

Retrieval of synths for the Institute.

Working with the Institute.

Killing Gabriel during Synth Retention.

Reclaiming Gabriel during Synth Retention.

probs more to come later!