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shinygoku · 4 years ago

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gordon gordon gordon gordon

Gordon Gordon Gordon Gordon!!

He's been sneaking into these asks by proxy, so it's finally time for his dedicated session, hehe~

First impression

WUAAAGH what's up with this WEIRD LONG NOT-THOMAS and his FACE?!

Impression now

His face is still pretty weird! But you know what else it is? Part of an Absolute Legend ✨

Like, man, Gordon is such a big presence and interesting character, the entire premise leans heavily on him. I'm inclined to go as far as to say that the Blue Boys of 1, 2 and 4 here are the three most important characters for the franchise (not at all to knock everyone else lmao) and they slot nicely into a Triforce of Courage, Wisdom and Power, and Gordon has Power in spades!

Gordon is The Vain One (not James!). He's legit very strong and the fastest on Sodor (which isn't just being a big fish in a small pond because that island has some crazy cool engines!) but unfortunately he lacks humility. His success seems to have been lodged in his head before the series even begins and this Pride is the source of pretty much every single conflict he's involved in.

But when it isn't his self satisfaction in his actions, it's being smug about being such a grand, magnificent Tender Engine and he is snooty as hell about it. He seems to look at smaller engines [pretty much everyone compared to him lol] as a lesser class, particularly if they're small and cheeky and Tank Engines. This may not be the case exactly, but his way of talking to them and some other things he says are very condescending.

However... as much as a gigantic jerk he is at several points, with Gordon I kinda feel like he plain ass doesn't conceive of his words being out of line. That and having to Unlearn things... he's not innately better than everyone else. He sees things in black and white. There are Useful Engines, and those who should be scrapped. There are Noble Tender Engines and Lesser Tank Engines who exist to do the tedious chores on behalf of the Superior ones. Edward doing shunting is seen as Demeaning and contradicts Gordon’s world view that Tender Engines Don't Stunt™, and he doesn't like that one bit! (Also Edward was crossing the picket line but that wasn't Awdry's concern lmao)

Related is Gordon does seem oddly dense at times, like assuming that Tenders are in of themselves a Status Symbol rather than a large lunchbox of sorts lol, or that Tender Engines like him being too heavy for Branch Lines being because something about Branch Lines are degrading. This might be all Elitist Brainwashing influence. But still, that he just takes these as The Truth means I get to affectionately call him an idiot. And there is no other way to explain how he genuinely believes Bill and Ben were going to murder him if he wasn't missing a few brain bolts in there.

Fortunately, he does eventually start to learn the important lessons.... very gradually, but the Early Gordon is a pretty different beast to Later Gordon, and it's wonderful~

Also, I gotta give credit to him for having some moments of utter brilliance and actual grasp of reality and more complex matters, like culture. (Yeah, I'm rolling with his geniune Opera Knowledge from s6 of all things. It's good!) As much as Awdry himself may have disagreed, Gordon was in the right to want a Station Pilot and the Strike was called for (not bullying Edward for it, but myeah) ...but this leads to my next point: He seems to have a mental block when it comes to Emotions.

Certainly, he's as emotional as the others are, it's not just a scale of Snooty, Arrogant, Condescending, Prideful ....well, it is, but ALSO the more mixed and varied feelings: Shame, Sadness, Fear, Ambivilance, Irritation, Anger, Passion, Amused, Delight and so on. However, Gordon is seemingly unaware of how his words may make the others feel, and even at his cruellest it doesn't look like he's aware he's twisting a knife in. To Gordon, he's being honest, but his verbose manner ends up twisting and wriggling away from any valid point like an overgrown vine that somehow links back to how [Other Engine] is disgracing him, Gordon, by association.

Examples include: Being offended by Henry's new shape (??? Gordon dude he nearly died and this is an improvement, a good thing!), saying that Edward's age and difficulty starting a heavy ass packed load of passengers is grounds to be Retired or even Scrapped, other little insulting things like calling the likes of Thomas and James Little insistently (it seems to vary if he's trying to put them down or actually be affectionate), and many more when in the hands of inept writers who have to wheel out the same Gordon Learns A Lesson Plot every other season.

Like I said in the James post, I also think he kinda poisoned the Red guy with his snooty attitude... but I maintain that I think Gordon was unaware of this. He may know he has Influence, and enjoy that, but he really truly doesn't appear to mean to mould James into a smaller, redder version of himself. He's oblivious and from his own point of view, benevolent. Which is in fact a dangerous combo indeed!

It's... a lot o7;;

Again though, if you're looking at the books and s1-s5 of TVS you can see him grow and change. He does take a while to learn the lessons, but as time goes on he moves 2 steps forward and 1 step back, then eventually less steps back entirely. It's great! And so is Gordon. A big dumb meathead with not entirely uncalled for delusions of granduer. A dramatic so-and-so who is the best engine for his job.

I love this sophisticated jock who grows more kindness~ 💙

Favourite moment

Hm! This isn't as easy to decide lol. We all like Gordon Goes Foreign... but you know what sticks in my mind more?

hOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH

Look, I’m not 100% objective, here! But Ringo’s read of this line is fantastic (and keeps making me expect him to finish saying OOOHH SHIT) and it’s also a well deserved bolt of divine retribution for how rude he was being earlier. (As long as my essay already was, he very much needed the knocking down of some pegs here!)

Idea for a story

While both my fics with him thus far have been variations of Pre-Canon, Full-Arrogance and Snobbish Gordon (and both were a lot of fun!) ...but I cannot bear the same expired horse being beaten more when the story is set waaay later but he’s still up his own ass. Please, PLEASE writers, let him hold what growth he’s managed to gain!

I think it’d be good to accept that he’s gonna be outdated sooner or later, so have him help train another High Speed Engine and take them under his wing. The Christopher Awdry books kinda have something similar with Pip and Emma, but I think a better way of having Gordon be involved would be if he was actively doing some mentoring himself, as well as being a neat parallel with Edward, whose type was once Express only but got outclassed by A1s, and so the same can happen to this big A1 -> A3 lad and he can form a healthy relationship with some bright eyed newbie (and maybe have some self awareness and try to stop their head getting too large, lol).

Unpopular opinion

I know I just said him mentoring would be a cool story idea, but in canon? He is NOT a resident Dad type!! He’s a hotshot young man but he’s also a hot mess. He’s physically large but he’s not got the Energy of someone who dispenses sage advice and a shoulder to cry on. At best, he’s a weird uncle! One who means well but you shouldn’t take his life advice to heart because he’s actually just as, if not more clueless than you!

Favourite relationship

I feel inclined to say Thomas here. Emphatically not because Gordon is ‘old’ and Thomas is ‘young’, but because they’re so damn alike and actually make an excellent, albeit unconventional type of Rivalry.

Both are self important with genuine finesse in their respective talents, both are honest to a fault, both have redeeming qualities to offset their initial abrasiveness, and the first TVS episode is centred on the both of them and sets the tone for the series as a whole. There’s more parallels, of course, but I also wanna point out they’re effectively the mascots of North Western Rail in universe too, and I absolutely love this picture:

I also have immense fondness for the Down the Mine paradigm shift! Thomas gives Gordon grief over the ditch incident and later when it emerges the Fat Controller is gonna send for Gordon to pull him out, Thomas is filled with dread. But Gordon isn’t using the chance to lord over Thomas, he’s actually so amused by Thomas’ mishap and it coming at a time where he’s been significantly humbled, they instead become Comrades and I love it. I eat it up! Paint Pots and Queens isn’t anywhere near as good but I adore the little bit where they’re appealing for the other, equals and watching each other’s back~

But yeah, as Friendly Rivals they both feel very authentic and yet, in a daft way, sweet ;3

Favourite headcanon

He still says “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” when pulling the Express. That’s a HC as I think the show phased it out, but I like it lol. I feel like my essay on him contains most of the headcanon stuff, but it’s all based on what’s shown, baybee!

#this is ttte #TTTE Gordon #ttte talk #Gordon the Big Engine #Thomas the Tank Engine #TTTE Thomas #snuck in a bit in there lol #mentioned Edward a lot as well but not in as much depth #I love me some Blue Engines #TTTE

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Two

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 2 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this chapter: brief reference/hint to past sexual assault.

Word Count: 7,500+

A/N: Thank you so much for your excitement about this series! I always smile when I read your comments. Sorry for such a long chapter, but it’s only ten parts and I gotta fit all somewhere lol

Unknown Location, 2015, 10:46pm

The tightness of the rope wrapped around your wrists was excruciating, each movement causing it to rub against the already damaged skin, leaving more angry, red marks. You whipped your head back and forth, anger and fear coursing through your veins as you stared your father down. You watched as he carefully maneuvered his way around the room, every back straightening as he walked past them, every gun cocked and pointed right at you. Your nose twitched up as he walked closer, inspecting the ropes tying your feet to the chair and so on. You accumulated all the spit you could and aimed it for his face, pride washing over you as it hit him perfectly. But as quickly as that pride built, it shattered, a stinging sensation on your cheek now overpowering any other sense.

“You cost me ten million.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to let it slip as you did not want another beating. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same!”

“Don’t tell me what I would have done!”

You flinched inwardly, your face still blushing with growing madness. If only you could loosen these bonds…

“You will know to not mess up again.”

And as your father left the room, the men lined up against the wall finally let their shoulders fall forward, their once blank faces now donning sadistic smiles.

The Compound, 2018, 2:07am

You sat up from your mound of pillows, kicking them to the side as well as the heavy blanket. Your ears rang impossibly loud, and it wasn’t until your feet touched your bedroom floor that you could hear yourself screaming. Your body was drenched in sweat, sliding easily on your wood floor as you kicked to escape the blanket.

Sharp knocks against your door startled you, sudden ‘please, don’t!’’s escaping your mouth. Hyperventilating was always tiring, you thought, and the air was now super cold as you sucked it into your lungs.

“Doll, please? I’m coming in.”

The light from the hallway blinded you so you lifted your arm up as a temporary shield.

“No, no! I’m good… I didn’t lose it. Please, trust me!”

“Y/N…”

You lowered your arm and stared at your nighttime intruder, instincts kicking in upon settling your teary eyes on him and causing you to groan in displeasure.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Y/N.”

“I said don’t look at me.”

Steve sighed in defeat and walked back to your door. You thought he was going to simply leave you be, letting you ride out this panic attack alone like all the others. But he shut the door and made his way over to your couch on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and leaning his sleepy head in his right hand. It had been six months since the world literally fell apart, an unknown feeling of terror that simply sat at the pit of stomachs eating away at whatever sanity its host still had, plaguing the world. Tiredness was second nature, never actually reducing its power no matter how much sleep one got. But leaving you here to suffer each individual thread being pulled from your remaining sanity, alone, wasn’t an option.

“Why are you staying?”

“I have nightmares, too. You aren’t that special.”

You rolled your eyes, hands now massaging your aching chest. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Y/N, you were screaming for help.”

“I scream for a lot of things.”

You figured Steve would succumb to his growing annoyance, but he stayed patient.

“Was it about…?”

You sighed and pulled yourself up to your feet, knees wobbly and thighs alerting you of the droplets of sweat that beaded down your legs. “No. I don’t dream about the snap.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You let out a rather angry sigh. You were now rubbing your eyes, cleaning them of the accumulation of hard mucus. “I seriously don’t want to talk about this particular incident.”

Steve huffed through his nose and you were ready to pounce on him to tear that beard from his face, but stopped when you saw his small smile and genuine empathy in his eyes. “Okay, I won’t push you.”

You just stared at him, eyes wide and confused. But you nodded slowly, eyes now diverting to the blanket below you.

“I’m just so fucking happy the snap took my father.”

Steve’s lifted his head quickly by your abrupt confession, eyebrows furrowed and lips frozen, as if wrapped around a lost word he couldn’t verbally address. He understood, but it shocked him nonetheless.

He ignored it, or at least chose to avoid an immediate discussion about it, and stood from your couch.

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wanted to throw him out. Him being across the room and near the wall was starting to trigger more flashbacks.

It’s Steve. It’s just Steve.

“Can you stay?”

Steve stumbled slightly in his step, clearly uncomfortable with your request. But he was a good man and when one of his teammates needed help, he would do whatever he could. And you were one of the only teammates he had left.

“Okay,” he said. But as he made his way back to the couch and away from you, sudden racks of itchiness stretched from your wrists to the middle of your chest. You stumbled from the bed, arms extended outward as if you were still shielding yourself from some incoming attack.

“No, no! Just…”

Steve watched your movements carefully, trying to discern between fear or awkwardness. He sighed and let you see his hands, turning them over in the air.

“It’s me. Tell me where you want me.”

You were in control. Just tell him where you want him.

“I’ll lay here,” you started, getting back into the right side of the bed and pulling the covers up to your hips. “You there, but upside down.”

Steve chuckled and followed your commands. You watched him walk, feeling the dip of your mattress as his heavy body lay down. You were grateful when his sock-covered feet touched your left side pillow, his chuckles gaining volume as he tried to get comfortable.

“Do I at least get a blanket?”

“Oh!” you leapt from the bed and to the closet. He listened to your soft pitter-patter as you shuffled across the cold floor, shutting his eyes to relish in the childish melody. You passed Steve two heavy blankets, mindful of the cold weather outside. Then you climbed back into bed, passing Steve a few pillows, and snuggling back into your own.

A few shifts of the blankets made you open your eyes again. Steve was not as stiff as you expected him to be - almost like he wanted to help you - and you mentally slapped yourself remembering that he would do this for Bucky.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny grin on your face. “Thank you.”

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, thankful that he could still help others even when he himself was falling apart. “You’re welcome.”

Present Day, 2025, 9:45am

If anyone were to truly study Steve, they would see he was starting to act his age. He enjoyed fluffy socks, tea instead of coffee, sketching in the secluded garden of the new compound - anything a man pushing a hundred would truly enjoy. And he found himself shaving less, watching every new movie released regardless of genre, and eating much more oatmeal than usual. He remembers how whenever Bucky had saved up just enough for them to splurge on items they never usually indulged in, oatmeal would always be his go to. It was still a common ‘peasant’ meal for the two young bachelors, but Bucky would heat it up with fresh milk he had bought that morning, added the fresh strawberries and dates that were in season, and sprinkled brown sugar - damn, Steve loved brown sugar - on top. Bucky would place the bowl in front of Steve, ignoring Steve’s constant blabbering about ‘Buck, we can’t afford this’, or ‘you don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on me, you jerk’. But he would quickly shut up once Bucky’s perfected oatmeal recipe landed on his eager tongue and filled his happy stomach. Regardless of those past memories of young roommates searching for loose change in their couch and more recent ones of two reunited best friends sharing looks of awe whenever they saw how much milk and brown sugar now costs, Steve was certain the old man in him was just barely emerging.

He definitely didn’t skip the irritated attitude phase every old man seemed to develop as the years passed, his resting facial expressions and movements starting to match those of his best friend. Grumpy, tired all the time regardless of the serum, and asking each other instead of the modern people around them how to work their phones. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, or go on a jog, or watch a movie - anything - rather than having to give a briefing about something he hadn’t had to think about for seven years. And although he had the chance to use the stones before and didn’t, Steve couldn’t quite help wishing that he was transported back to his and Bucky’s old and crumbling apartment, fighting over that one knitted blanket Bucky had bought for the both of them with his last dime.

You seemed happier with your whole family situation after the snap, but he never wanted to ask. Whether you were putting on a brave face for him, he was rid of it momentarily only to be pushed into the chaos all over again. But this time was different because you were finally going to end it all. Finish what you had started all those years ago - then maybe Steve could take that afternoon nap he wanted.

“Talk to me. How are we doing this?”

Fury pulled up a screen with all the photos and biographies, essentially a powerpoint prepared by both you and Steve.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, sir. But I know my family and their schemes better than anyone,” you said. Fury knew this was true and the plan would ultimately be mapped out by you. His input was always welcome, but you knew the small details - their personalities, their weaknesses, their strengths, even the way they took their coffee. You even knew which of them sampled their product before sending it off on a cross-country road trip.

Steve stood beside the monitor, using this finger to change the screen. “So, we’re looking for our physical proof. A paper trail detailing land and their product, contacts, storage units, aliases - the works.”

You nodded at Fury and your teammates. “Exactly. The hardest things to obtain will most definitely be evidence about my father’s involvement. Proof he gave the orders and profited from them.”

“Your word isn’t enough?” Sam asked.

“No, not unless I throw myself under the bus as well. It’s his word against mine unless I can prove these things were all his doing,” you responded, taking a sip from your water.

The only other people in the briefing room besides Steve and Fury were Sam, Bucky and Scott. Everyone else would get a brief overview later on this week, but these three were specifically chosen by Fury to help aid you in the actual physical fight.

“The wedding is the perfect distraction,” Scott spoke. “Almost like this was made for a heist.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Not a heist.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugged, gaining a grin from you across the table. He smiled at your reaction and sent you a wink.

“Agent, we have to go over the basics and any new information you can provide,” Fury encouraged.

You motioned toward Steve to bring up the photos on the monitor, “Let’s start with the basics.”

Steve took over for the first portion of your presentation. You didn’t mind - in fact, the more control he had in this would certainly help ease his mind and you definitely did not want a stressed out Steve Rogers accompanying you on a twelve hour road trip.

“Ernesto Vega, father of Y/N Y/L/N, born 1950 in Guadalajara, Mexico, but because of the snap, the 80 year old is still only 75.”

“Damn, your father is old!”

You laughed at Sam’s outburst, “Yup, and I got like ten half-siblings.”

Sam sat up straighter, “No way?”

“Way.”

“Daniel Seda,” Steve continued, his voice louder. “Vega’s second in command, born 1970, currently 55 years old. Took over as top commander after the snap, and according to Y/N he didn’t take it well when everyone was brought back.”

“Hmm, threatened to put another bullet in me,” you teased, pointing at your stomach where the scar underneath your shirt had already long healed. You could have sworn you heard Steve’s breath hitch, but even if it did, he had quickly covered it by swiping the monitor.

“But her father saw this as proof of loyalty. Because no matter how much he knows Y/N hates him, she still brought him back.”

You lifted your shoulders, arms in the air as if imitating the nonverbal form of ‘oh, well!’, and your thin smile caused your cheeks to pop out comically.

“So, Seda hates you?” Bucky asked, chuckles still vibrating in his chest from your previous childish movements.

You brushed your hand through the air, “Not the first man to hate me and not the last.”

Steve snickered. You could say that again.

“The wedding will be held at Vega’s personal and private ten-acre ranch in Northern California-”

“A lovely fall wedding!”

Steve bit his tongue, eyes never leaving the monitor. “Sure… and it’s perfect. He’s wanted and he’s going to be on U.S soil.”

You stood from your chair and grabbed the electronic marker from the desk. You circled the main points of entry plus the directions of secret exits hoping to emphasize the ‘private’ part of Steve’s statement. “And since it’s his most private getaway and no one would suspect he would hide important shit on said U.S soil, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure our proof is there.”

You pulled up the blueprints and marked a giant ‘X’ on the farthest corner room in the west end. It was your father’s office.

“Ninety-eight?” Sam asked, reviewing the printed blueprints himself.

You twirled the marker between your fingers, “My dad is clever. My other two percent is telling me there’s no evidence at all.”

Scott clutched his chest in relief, “Okay, at least one outweighs the other.”

You shared another laugh with the ‘regular-sized man’.

Steve continued listing the basics, all while Fury sat toward the edge of the long table reviewing the screen. “The other two big names in the drug game are Omar Ramirez and Marcus White. Ramirez runs most things from Mexico City to San Antonio, Texas and he’s probably the least evil of them all. White runs Europe, specifically Germany and England.”

You interjected, “Ramirez focuses on the product. He orders his men to focus on the business instead of the outside world - meaning, no unnecessary kills, no violence toward women and children, no killing cops or citizens. Just producing and transporting.”

Almost forgetting he was there, Fury’s voice somewhat startled you. “Vega has lost men to Ramirez, men who wanted a change in scenery.”

You nodded in confirmation, “They aren’t necessarily enemies but they’re no besties either.”

Sam rolled the blueprints back up and handed them to Bucky. “So, we’re taking them all down?”

“The big three. Plus Seda,” Steve declared, finally taking his first sip of water in what felt like forever. If he didn’t want anyone to know he was nervous about this mission, he was for sure failing.

You hummed, “Vega and Seda are also the only ones who know of Steve’s involvement.”

“How’d that happen?” Bucky asked.

“Because Steve only ‘transports’ my father’s product. Not the others. Steve’s role is essentially to green light the passages and is my main pull,” you clarified.

It was true - Steve didn’t do or touch anything. And you thought this best considering he was America’s golden boy - you couldn’t possibly bear real involvement from him. This wasn’t his world and never should have been but it was yours.

You dealt with people directly. You took out the snitches. You handled the product during inspections. You did it all - and not because you thought Steve was some fragile soul who couldn’t achieve the same results - but because you brought him into that mess during a time in his life when he definitely didn’t need it.

“But how did it happen?”

You shrugged, hoping your answer would suffice for the rest of the group as it never does for Steve. “When I first started out as a field agent, my father didn’t trust I was doing it for him. The more I promoted, the more suspicious he got. It wasn’t until we exposed SHIELD as half-HYDRA that he was done with me.”

Fury interjected once again, “So, Y/L/N here had to pull rank out of her ass.”

You snorted, “Thanks, Fury. That sounded nice.”

“I told them that I had the literal symbol of America by my side. That defeating HYDRA was only to get his friend back, not to save the world. Plus, I told them that HYDRA was targeting all of them. And once I could get proof - a forged recording made by Fury before he went into hiding - well, it was like the greatest example of submission.”

“Why didn’t you say Tony?”

That certainly was a question Steve always had and wanted answered. God, he really hoped you had said Tony.

“Because I got the literal symbol of America as a partner-in-crime. My father almost told me he loved me... almost.”

You sat back down in your chair, a tiny puff of air escaping your lips. “And that made Seda furious. I may hate my father, but Seda is the main threat to blowing this whole operation.”

If anything, you wanted your father deader than dirt, silenced by the one child he always regretted bringing into the world. He had tortured you in more ways than you thought possible.

“Now, I thought my dad was bad.”

You fell back onto the couch before retrieving your cup of coffee you had placed on the table. Nebula gave you a tiny chuckle in return.

“Yes, mine has eradicated half the universe. I win ‘worst father’.”

You sipped your coffee, trying and failing to block out the banter between Rocket and Tony as they discussed the location of the space stone. “You know, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Nebula chewed her dinner slowly, listening to you ramble on about anything that popped into your mind. She knew this was your coping mechanism - to just keep talking until someone shut you up. But she enjoyed it, really, because you spoke of topics that she didn’t quite understand or know about. She learned something new everyday simply by listening to you.

“I should have thanked Thanos for dusting his ass, though.”

Nebula stopped mid-chew, blank expression but the hint of a twitch in her lip visible.

“I’m joking.”

You had asked her once why Thanos had spared her and Tony when he snapped his fingers. But Nebula had no rational answer, only responding that he must have spared her out of last minute pity and Tony to live through the consequences. And the tiny voice inside your head knocked again, reminding you that ‘maybe this snap was overall a good thing - your father can’t hurt you anymore!’, but you shut it up as quickly as it came.

“So, how many planets are there in the universe, really?”

Fury began piling files in one folder, making sure to hand out the sheet with names and contact numbers of agents stationed close to the venue and your chosen hotel.

“We’ll get into mission specifics at a later date once Rogers and Y/L/N are settled and scope out the place. For now, study up on your targets and perfect your acting skills.”

You assumed you would only need one big suitcase for the trip, only packing essentials and extra shirts just in case. You rolled your clothes tightly, securing your signature perfume and some jewelry inside some sweaters. You hid identifiable items in the small compartments - your passport, journal, old SHIELD tag, driver’s license, etc. It was the paranoid side of you taking over, the possibility of having your cover blown likely and frightening. The amount of times you had ventured into the general vicinity of your father and his crew always proved safer than you expected. But there could always be that day he simply didn’t want you around anymore.

So, you prepared in the smallest and even cringiest ways possible - resorting to drafting letters for those you wanted to remember you after you had been taken out. You paused your packing to grab your spare journal. You spent a good hour writing. A letter to Wanda, to Bucky, to Peter, to Rhodey, to Sam. Some were shorter than others - others extending to over two pages. But your mind was racing with things you hoped they would never have to read, scattered thoughts and only hints of identifiable wit penned on paper.

You tucked the letters behind the fabric you had recently ripped open. You planned on duct-taping the rip, your eyes drifting back over to your journal. You tapped your foot rapidly for a few seconds, fingers twisting in anticipation, mind still clear enough to draft one more. You quickly picked the pen right back up, sitting on the edge of your bed and starting the letter you might regret later. But at that moment, with the horrible prospect of dying on this mission, you wrote.

‘Steve,

Believe when I say that I was so sure I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…’

You wrote and wrote until your handwriting grew sloppy at the edge of the paper, and signed it. You tucked the final letter into the hole and taped it shut. You really hoped you would be able to survive and burn those written words later.

A soft knock sounded from across the room and your bedroom door opened to reveal Steve, light blue dress shirt tucked into his jeans like the old man he truly was. You couldn’t help but grin at that, cursing your involuntary actions for this man.

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” you asked, continuing to fold clothing into your suitcase. He leaned against your door, hesitant. Steve often wondered why and how he could go days, weeks - one time even a whole month - without speaking to or seeing you. He was an expert at one word answers by now, opting to always have someone else around whenever he seriously had to carry a conversation with you. But what struck him the most was that you didn’t seem to care anymore. He witnessed the change - hell, he was the one that caused it - but it was a change that he both wanted and didn’t. How was it so easy for you?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded and walked over to your couch to sit.

You cleared your throat, hoping to make this conversation the least awkward you could. “Because this was literally sprung on both of us after almost ten years of waiting.”

“I’m okay.”

You accepted his answer. He looked comfortable enough, shoulders relaxed and genuinely interested. There was a part of you that wanted to rush over and shake him, yell at him for being so clueless and fake at the same time. There was no possible way he was fully okay with everything - he hadn’t been himself since the snap, and when Natasha and Tony died, he was someone else entirely. You had brought it up with Bucky several times, but he assured you that Steve was just dealing with things his own way. That he was still a man out of time, they both were, and battle after battle could take its toll. And Bucky would hype their therapist up, that they were the reason he and Steve are able to walk in public without that constant voice warning of danger in the back of their heads, and that you should schedule a visit sometime. You always declined, asking him to call you if he truly needed another person to talk to. He would smile, taking you up on your offer whenever a day was particularly triggering.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was sixteen. Ten years really just flew by… considering.”

Steve nodded, “Is there anything I should know?”

You hummed, “If you mean things about my family, then I’ll just tell you on the way there or at the hotel.”

He chuckled and stood to lean against your bedpost. “No, I mean like, what should I pack just in case?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at such an innocent question, “Um, comfy socks. It’s pretty cold in California in the winter. Gas money, it’s pretty fucking expensive, too.”

He smiled, “Good to know.”

The two of you packed in silence for several minutes. Steve helped you roll your clothes and gather your toiletries, even asking you if you wanted to bring your current toothbrush or the new one in your bottom drawer.

You knew you shouldn’t have spoken about the topic burning in your throat, but you felt like you had to say something. If you mentioned it during the mission, you risked a larger argument than the one you would get now. So you formulated your next sentence carefully, already bracing for impact as it slipped.

“Look, the elephant in the room should be addressed. Once my father’s dealt with, I have no reason to stay here.”

Steve clipped the belt over the top of your clothes, securing the items tightly. He seemed disoriented, your sudden proclamation startling him. “What do you mean? You did the work, you trained, you helped us literally save the world.”

You shrugged and kept your voice light, “Yeah, but I started this gig when I was sixteen. I didn’t join the Avengers until I was freshly in my twenties. I’ve literally known nothing else but fighting.”

Steve sat at the edge of your bed, furrowed eyebrows and all as he chose his next words. He felt both angry and sad, a mixture of feelings that he never quite grew accustomed to whenever he was around you. They ate away at him slowly, creeping into his brain to wrap around his common sense, his sense of self, the man he was before the snap.

“Are you saying you just need a break?”

“I think,” you shrugged, zipping the suitcase and tugging its weight off your bed and onto the floor.

“What about Wanda and Bucky?”

You scrunched your face in amused confusion, a playful smile resting on your lips, “I’m not falling off the face of the Earth, Steve. I’ll visit or something.”

“Or something.”

He stood and walked back to your couch, restless and even more stressed than he was before he entered your room.

“Steve, we lost so much. It’s been two years since we brought everyone back, but… it took its toll.”

He snapped his head up, “You don’t need to tell me about shit taking its toll.”

You felt like you stared at him for several minutes, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach and traveling up your throat. That familiar lump constricting your airway as you forced yourself to swallow it and the forming tears. And once again, your mouth spoke before your mind could approve.

“Why didn’t you use the stones for yourself?”

Steve sat, shocked into silence temporarily. “What?”

“When you and Carol put the stones back - why didn’t you stay somewhere you really wanted to be?”

You remember watching him step onto the platform holding the briefcase of infinity stones and holding Mjollnir, - because of fucking course he could wield Mjollnir, he was a good man even if you were on his bad side - simply minding his own business and waiting for Carol to join him. You remember thinking he would return with a different story, only after he got some of that life Tony had always encouraged him to find, that he would go back to Peggy and live the life he always wanted. But as quickly as they disappeared into thousands of timelines did they reappear, Carol joyful and content while Steve trailed behind her. Your heart had pounded erratically, Bucky looking at you with wide eyes because yes, I thought he would do exactly what you were thinking, too.

“None of your business.”

“I’m not trying to pry-” you reasoned, but Steve stepped toward you with flushed cheeks and a cracked voice.

“But all you do is pry, pry, pry. God, do you ever just shut up?”

All you could hear behind the ringing of your ears were Steve’s quick breaths, slowing as each second passed and he realized what he had said. A moment of weakness, in his opinion, but still uncalled for.

“Pack some snacks for the road and get out of my room.”

Steve straightened his back, eyes practically yelling for you to look at him again, pleading for you to see the remorse swimming in them. But you just tugged your suitcase to the corner of your room, ignoring him completely. “Gladly.”

You and Steve were mature enough to keep your arguments at least a hundred miles away from any mission you were conducting or when around your friends. A quick quarrel in the morning was basically nonexistent a few hours later when the whole group suggested a board game or movie night. Although this impromptu road trip would be the slightest bit awkward, you two were smart enough to not compromise the mission.

And you had to drive as flying and airport security was too risky, especially with the amount of weapons attached to your body and in the trunk of that rented car.

“Call us when you hit the first checkpoint. After that, we’ll be monitoring your hotel check-in and any new ones, police reports filed throughout that week, anything that directly involves your stay,” Bucky said, handing you a burner phone.

You stepped forward to hug him. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight squeeze, releasing you slightly to whisper in your ear. “Try not to kill him for the next twelve hours, will ya?”

You pulled away and gave him your best grin, bumping your bracelet with his. “You know I can’t promise that, Bucky.”

He rolled his eyes, “You kill him, I kill you.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me.” Bucky almost burst out laughing from the fake, pornographic moan you let out because of his threat.

“No, but seriously - just… lay low, trust each other, and we’ll be there in the next few days.”

You slid the burner into your sweater pocket and patted it, checking if it was secure. You waved goodbye to Bucky and pulled the passenger door open. You blew him a kiss, red lipstick now on your fingers. “Can’t wait to see you!”

Bucky stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, an embarrassed but happy smile on his face. He caught the floating kiss mid-air. “Already miss you!”

“Stop, I’m blushing!” you teased, your left hand resting palm up on your forehead in an exaggerated manner.

“Go!”

You obliged, falling into the passenger seat and clicking your seatbelt.

Twenty minutes into the drive and Steve finally decided to speak.

“So, you and Bucky?”

You giggled, thumbs currently flying over your phone screen as you tried to beat your high score in some awful video game you discovered last week. “Yup, I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Steve’s hand fidgeted on the steering wheel, “Seriously?”

You closed out your video game, “No, Steve. It’s mindless flirting. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahh…” he nodded in understanding, a lazy smile resting on his face. He focused on both the road and you, your head leaning against the foggy window. “About earlier-”

“Don’t mention it,” you interrupted. The second you peaked through your heavy eyelids did you lock eyes with Steve, regret visible in them.

He continued, “I blew up at you and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Cool, you’re forgiven.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned quietly, but you weren’t getting angry. You were just tired from the day already and having to sit for twelve hours straight wasn’t going to help. So, you took the high road. “Look, it’s a twelve hour drive until our first stop. Let’s forget about it or else I promise you, I will jump out of this car when you push eighty.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in his chest due to your absurd promise, but he accepted your answer.

“...Okay.”

By hour two, there was a restlessness between the both of you. No matter how much you extended your leg, the cramping wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times Steve would twist his neck to the side to get it to crack, it would just tighten again. So, against protocol but still on your best behavior, you and Steve made a couple stops along the way.

The first was a burger joint in the middle of buttfuck Ohio, you had commented, earning a choking sound from Steve as he tried to contain his laughter. It was a hole in the wall type of place, perfect for lying low and out of sight, and you had enjoyed your meal in the car. You listened to Steve’s playlist on low volume, stealing each other’s fries to simply piss the other off, and hit the road after your meal.

The second stop was around hour eight, and the sun was already starting to set. You desperately needed to use the bathroom and once you saw a tiny town that ‘looks so much like the town in Gilmore Girls!’, Steve pulled over and parked in a diner parking lot. Donning caps and ordering a coffee and a tea to go to seem less suspicious, you hurried from the diner and back to your car. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyeing a gazebo with a black miniature fence around it. You begged Steve to snap a photo, promising that this would be the only favor you ask of him for the next few hours, and went to hitch one leg over the metal fence. You settled yourself on top, hands gripping the railing and trying not to fall. You started to laugh uncontrollably as the fence started hurting your bottom, begging Steve to snap the photo quicker.

‘Take the damn picture, you big oaf!’

‘Well, then hold still!’

‘It’s hurting my ass!’

‘Smile!’

The third stop was the final one, somewhere in Iowa and deep in the forest. You complained about how Fury warned you of motels, that you would have to seek shelter elsewhere to avoid being recognized. You could easily blend in, but the mountain of muscle beside you would blow your cover. And you wanted to arrive in California undetected by the media.

Steve drove the car into a dark and secluded part of the forest, ground that seemed used by campers often and had an emergency phone and landline nearby. It was secret enough, so you parked the car and retrieved the blankets from the trunk.

“You taking the back?” Steve asked, jumping back into the car and rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather. His face was flushed from just a few seconds out in the cool breeze, nose frozen and the tip red. He looked younger, you thought, somewhat resembling those renditions of Greeks in renaissance art.

“You’ve been driving all day. You should stretch your legs,” you answered, already wrapping the blanket up to your shoulders and securing it around your neck.

“You sure? We can alternate.”

You smiled, already feeling the effects of the warmth on your tired body, “I’m sure, Steve. Get some rest and I’ll drive in the morning.”

Steve exited the car after turning it off - sucks that you had to save the gas - and hopped into the backseat. He kicked off his shoes and lay across the connected seat, facing you. He could see the outline of your nose as you tilted your head slightly to the side, the blanket wrapped around your neck and hiding the real length of your hair. It resembled a bob cut by how half of it was hidden, and Steve thought that hairstyle would suit you.

Your personal phone rang, cutting through the comfortable silence and startling the both of you. You fumbled it in your hand and looked back at Steve, face falling as you showed him the name.

Seda.

“Answer it on the third ring.”

You did as Steve told you, answering the phone on the third ring and preparing your voice. He scrambled for the tape recorder, pressing ‘play’ as soon as he could. ��

“You rarely call me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you answered.

His voice sounded hoarse over the phone, almost like he had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. “Are you attending?”

“My dear sister is getting married, Seda. Of course I’m going to embarrass her.”

He paused for a few moments, sounding like he was directing the people around him to finish something. But he responded to your answer in a serious tone. “I hope you’re being your usual sarcastic self and aren’t serious.”

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the phone, and Steve’s lips spread into a smile. “You’ve known me long enough to know, I hope.”

“Sadly.”

“I’m hurt,” you joked, voice still light and cheerful. Seda paused on the line again, the sound of papers rustling letting you know the line was still active.

“I need to know if the Captain is attending too.”

“He was invited,” you responded, laughing a little at the fact that Seda hadn’t known this information you were sure the rest of your family knew.

He chuckled, a slight whistle sound letting you know he was smoking another cigarette. “Mm, guess your family is finally meeting your lover, huh?”

The air in your mouth didn’t make it down to your lungs and you looked at Steve with equally wide eyes. But you didn’t stay fazed for long, responding to such an accusation with ease. “My lover, yes. I’m so damn giddy about that.”

Seda hummed in satisfaction, “Your father always told you to not get involved with the product. Scrambles your brains from thinking straight. But he applauds you on this one.”

You put a finger in your mouth and mimicked gagging, causing Steve to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh. “I’ve never mentioned the Captain as my lover before. Why is my father always right?”

You knew exactly what to say. The more backhanded praise you gave your father only fed into the truth and lies everyone knew - truth being you hated your father because of his power and the lie being that you were just as power hungry as him. As long everyone assumed you wanted this power, the more you had to act like you hated your father’s.

“He knows more than he lets on. You know that.”

“I know a lot of things.”

Seda continued, “No friends allowed, anyway. So, if the Captain isn’t your lover then… we may have problems. Is there a problem?”

You kept your voice at a steady volume, “I said I was with him, didn’t I? Have you seen the man?”

“Seen him, heard him speak. So righteous and dull. Not really your type.” Seda was growing impatient with the conversation, clearly angry that he hadn’t caught a slip or lie from you.

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Ew, don’t think you know my type.”

“Buck, ‘my type’ is back home with a warm chicken noodle soup in my lap and a couple of loose papers at my disposal,” Steve whined, trying to keep the same pace as his overly enthusiastic friend as he hurried down the sidewalk.

“She’s such a knockout, Steve! I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Steve couldn’t help but blush at Bucky’s kind words, the hype always repairing some parts of Steve’s broken self-esteem and reminding him of his worth. But it was his third date this month and rejection was starting to seem like his favorite sport. No matter what he did - offering a girl some peanuts, accidentally stepping on her (once!) feet while dancing, or simply not living up to Bucky’s gracious advertising - women just weren’t interested.

“You know that’s not true, Buck. Can’t we just have a quiet night in?”

Bucky stopped and guided them into the nearby alley, both to knock some sense into his friend and to give Steve a break from the tiny jog.

“Listen here, Steve. Any girl would be lucky to be with you-”

“Buck, we’ve been through this-”

“Let me finish,” Bucky shushed him, hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady both him and himself. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you. If this one doesn’t see you how I see you, then she’s just insane.”

Steve smirked, “Don’t insult the girl before I’ve even met her, jerk.”

Bucky smiled, his high cheeks pushing up to create crinkles by his eyes. “Trust me, pal. You just need to find a woman with as big of a mouth as you.”

Steve swatted his friend across his chest, laughs rumbling in both their chests and down the once quiet alleyway.

“What hotel are you staying at?” Seda quickly asked, ignoring your quip. You were done with this conversation as it was leading nowhere.

“Staying at one where no one can hear the Captain scramble my brains. Goodbye,” you replied, an annoyance in your tone that even Seda would believe as natural.

“See you soon.”

You let Seda end the call, a little power play you allowed him to have. God, it was gonna feel good to take him down.

Steve shifted in his seat, stopping the recorder in time for his question. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why did your dad assume we were a couple?”

You gave him a tiny chuckle, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders and settling back into your seat. “I don’t know why that man says anything anymore. I guess they just expected it.”

“Why?”

No matter how many years passed, both awake or frozen, Steve never did quite understand the sexual appeal that lingered around his name. No matter how many times Bucky joked about it, no matter the amount of social media posts, no matter anything - he just didn’t seem to understand why people thought he was a ladies man.

You snuggled deeper into your blanket, scanning the outside woods one last time just in case. “You wouldn’t risk your reputation and status for me unless you were fucking me, I guess.”

“Crude.”

You turned your head to him and sighed, “They think I’m the whore of the family. It’s just too funny sometimes.”

Steve’s face fell, “I’m sorry about that.”

You shuffled in your blanket to pull your arm out and wave it in the air. “Used to it.”

Steve didn’t press further, deciding to lay back finally to find a cozier position. It was quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and slight motion disturbing the silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the moonlight hitting the steering wheel. By the sound of Steve’s breathing, you knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet. So you allowed yourself the smallest confession, a crack in the door Steve was figuratively standing outside of.

“My sister is his prized possession, though.”

Steve didn’t respond, but from the sound of the blanket moving you could tell he had turned to face you.

“Never knew why.”

Steve pondered your words for a long time, long after your breathing became slower and tiny snores left your mouth. He didn’t exactly know what to say or what to do. It wasn’t like you dropped top secret information on him or anything, but it made him wonder just why in the world your father hated you so much.

You had done everything asked of you. You were controlled, tortured mentally everyday, having to endure and make decisions that Steve knew you didn’t want any part of. Your father should be thanking you for keeping his business afloat, for expanding it, for roping Steve’s own name into that life. As he contemplated any rational reason for such hate, he heard your soft snore turn into an innocent purr, and he felt himself leaning more into a mutual understanding. It frightened him, gripping his reality by the throat, because Steve actually knew why. That innocence he saw with you, no doubt had presented itself to your father involuntarily and your father knew.

He knew you were good at heart.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise

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cheesydoesitstevie · 4 years ago

Text

Unlikely Trio

Summary: Reader ends up on an Elevator with Bucky and Sam.

Warnings: none really. Maybe a little violence. Not sure what I was going for with this. Was inspired by an Asian ad.

Something inside you was dying for some excitement, anything to break up this mundane routine you had fallen into. The bell dinged as the elevator stopped prematurely a few floors before the lobby. Calm classical sounding music played softly throughout the gold decorated elevator. The doors slides open and two large men stepped in. Both of them were dressed pretty casually yet they looked as if they were headed somewhere important. They seemed familiar, you weren’t quite sure where you had seen them before. They definitely weren’t movie stars. You needed a better look but didn’t want to be caught staring.

One quick glance wouldn’t hurt, study as much as you could within a few seconds. Your eyes lit up and something snapped in your brain. They were the Avengers. Well what was left. You remembered something about Sam Wilson aka the Falcon taking over as Captain America and his partner was Bucky more well known as The winter soldier. Sam nods at you and smiles awkwardly. You bit your lip turning to look down at the floor before a crazy thought pops into your head. You pull your hood up over your hair. Unsure of why this was essential to your idea. Timidly you turn towards Bucky, he looks you up and down while Sam’s face contorts displaying his confusion in his eyebrows.

“Can I join you guys?”

“Sure. Just follow my lead.” Bucky replied facing back towards the doors.

“Wait. No! Absolutely not!” Sam looks at Bucky like a parent silently scolding a child.

“What?” Bucky asks with a shrug his tone indicating that he doesn’t see what the big deal is.

“C’mon man. She’s a civilian.”

“I have pepper spray and a knife.” You hold out the knife as the pepper spray dangles from a keychain that’s wrapped around your wrist.

“See Sam, she has a knife.” Bucky holds his gloved hands out as if he’s showing off the knife in a showcase.

Sam quickly becomes more annoyed, not sure why Bucky is humoring this clearly insane young woman. He looks her over before shaking his head and trying to ignore his idiot partner. Through gritted teeth Sam tries to speak so that only Bucky hears him.

“Dude, we’re after Zemo right now. It’s not the time to play adopt a civilian.” Bucky pretended to ignore everything Sam said.

You hold the knife and various ways that you had seen on Tv, Bucky only encourages you more. He pulls out his own knife and begins to twirl it around. You watch in awe as he flips it up with his right hand before catching it in his left.

A gruff sigh of disapproval leaves Sam’s mouth as you and Bucky compare knives. He tries to teach the same twirling technique he just showed you. You drop the knife a few times, each time Bucky caught it mid air just before it hit the ground. The elevator slows and the number lights up. This is where the guys are getting off. Sam shoots Bucky one last warning glare before moving to exit the lift.

“It was nice to meet you...”

“Y/N.” You say extending your hand to Sam. He shakes it politely and then turns to leave.

You feel little pang of sadness strike your heart as you watch Bucky’s frame move through the doorway. Soon the doors will close and the most exciting moment in your life will be over. Bucky looks back and nods his head towards the hallway. The feeling of butterflies shoot through you. You struggle to contain the excitement that is surging through your veins.

“Stay behind me.” Bucky whispers pushing you gently behind him.

Sam walks a few feet a head. They’re closing in on the target. The hallway is long and with cheaply painted white walls. A few large windows cast a natural light on the eerily silent and empty hall. Its the middle of the day but suddenly the feeling of a dark and creepy abandoned building starts to creep up over skin. Pebbling it in goosebumps as the hair on the back of your neck starts to stand. You weren’t sure when Bucky had grabbed your hand, now that you were aware of it made you feel a little better. Your fingers lightly squeezed his hand feeling your own heart beat thump in your chest as the sound of blood rushed through your ears.

Bucky turned to side slightly glancing at you through his peripherals. He nodded and pulled you closer to his back. He used his other hand to put one finger over his lips. You understood the message and nodded. Swallowing quietly in anticipation about what was going to unravel here.

Sam paused outside of a door that read 201. He looked up signaling for Bucky to take the same position on the other side of the door. Sam made eye contact with you and his face flushed with anger. He cursed Bucky under his breath. Bucky seemed to be un-phased by anything going on with Sam.

Everyone grew quiet listening for life on the other side of the door. The news could be heard softly playing in the background. A mans voice muffled through the television murmured on about events going on in New York City. A clanking of dishes let Bucky know that Zemo was definitely home.

He nodded to Sam, letting go of your hand and slipping his gun from the back of his pants. Sam turned like he was about to kick the door in. You drastically yet silently shook your head no and both men paused to see what the problem was. Bucky was curious while Sam grew more and more impatient with whole charade.

Pulling yourself up on Tiptoes you whispered into Bucky’s ear. Bucky nodded agreeing that was a better idea. He waved the gun towards Sam indicating he wanted Sam to go back to his previous position. To everyone’s surprise Sam did and waited for his cue.

Bang. Bang.

The room behind the door fell silent and everyone seemed to hold their breath listening waiting for a response.

“Maintenance.” Bucky yelled through the door. There was a moment of silence everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

“I didn’t call for anything.” A mans voice echoed from the other side of the door. He was close enough to be heard but not close enough to touch the door. Sam considered he might be armed and waiting for them to kick the door down.

“We’re checking all the units. Some of the pipes burst.” Bucky called out again. They were met with another long silence before the door lock clicked and slid out of place. Zemo peeked out behind the chain lock of the door.

Bucky gave minimal effort in kicking the door in. The chain snapped as if it were made of paper, pieces exploded everywhere as the door slammed Zemo backwards into the wall. His nose and head were bleeding now. He still tried to run but Sam was on him quickly knocking him to the ground.

You watched from the busted door frame as Sam pinned the man down. Bucky slapped some high tech looking cuffs on the man and pulled him to his feet. As they passed by Zemo gave you a quizzical look. It wasn’t out of place. You were the one in a situation you should of never been in. Unsure of what to do you followed them as they moved Zemo down the stairs.

They went down past the lobby and headed towards the floor that led to the parking garage. The car was red and fast, leaving minimal space in the back seat. Bucky stood holding onto Zemo looking at you and then at the back seat. Sam rolled his eyes gesturing that the obvious answer was to ditch you. Bucky figured out his own plan and unlocked the car. clicking the trunk open. Zemo tried to resist but Bucky easily shoved him into the trunk.

Zemo’s complaints were muffled through the car yet the still echoed in the concrete garage. Bucky escorted you to the back seat while Sam gave him the death glare.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Waiting to leave.” Bucky shrugged tossing Sam the keys before ducking into the drivers seat.

“Where do you live?” Sam asked being done with the whole situation he was eager to get rid of you, so he could go home and be alone.

“Oh, I live-”

“She’s coming with us.” Bucky intervened knowing that you lived in the building that they had just plucked Zemo from. Sam let out a big sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You live on the upper floor of this apartment complex don’t you?” You said nothing and remained seated in the back.

“Fuck it!” Sam said throwing his hands in the air before he started the car and slid into reverse.

“She’s your responsibility.” Sam warned Bucky he was not going to be liable for anything that happened to you.

“She’s not a cat.”

“Well you sure are treating her like one.”

“It’s just us at the Avengers complex we could use another person there.”

“I kind of wish I was the only one there.” Sam and Bucky continued to fight like a married couple. You watched amused from the back having more fun than you thought you would going on this little adventure.

The drive was long as you went from one side of New York out to the more rural part of New York. At some point you had dozed off in the back seat. You woke to Bucky gently shaking you awake from the open door.

“We’re here doll.” You clumsily stepped out of the car, taking the hand that Bucky had offered you.

The place was more stunning than you could have ever imagined. Never in your life had you seen such a high tech and expensive place. The design of the whole building was unique with the large Avengers symbol in front and a huge helicopter pad to your right.

“We have to take Zemo somewhere. we will be back.” Bucky lead you into the building.

Bucky started to head back out. Thats when you realized you were standing in the middle of the Avenger’s living room. You sat down on the couch taking a deep breath in. How many times had they all sat here, laughing and talking. Did they watch movies or shows together? What is a show they would of all agreed on?

Silence filled the air and the place seemed unbelievably large. It would definitely be easy to get lost. You thought about how sad it might be for Bucky and Sam. Everyone they used to live with her was now gone. You heard the stories about Captain America, Ironman and Black widow. The thought of them all not being here now set a deepness in your heart.

You wondered where Wanda was, it would of made sense if she stayed here with them. Either way you wanted to take full advantage of being a guest here while it lasted. You decided to explore respectfully. Setting up simple rules for yourself. No searching any bedrooms and don’t touch anything in the labs, just look. That is if you could get in most places.

You had so many questions yet you didn’t want to bring up anything that would be a sensitive subject for Bucky or Sam.

#Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #Falcon and Winter soldier.#Sebastian Stan #anthony mackie #The Avengers #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader

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free-pool-trash · 5 years ago

Text

she - warren worthington iii

More Warren!!! He honestly makes me just 🥺 but also 🥵

Requested by the lovely @kurt-nightcrawler: so,,,, Warren’s writing poetry for a class and he’s really struggling,, so someone suggests he writes about what makes him happy and it’s the reader and then y/n finds out he wrote this really good poetry about them and the reader is all like 🥺🥺

This is so cute thank you for sending it in ✨💕 hope u like it boo i changed it a little i hope it’s still okay :)))

Okay but the tea is I SUCK with poetry okay so I stole song lyrics from a song that I just think is so super cute and kinda goes with the request and that is She by Dodie 🥺 (but I changed it to be more poem like)

Word count: 1,891 :)))

Warning (s): tooth rotting fluff, swearing (obviously), I'm physically incapable of not including Peter in these, that good kissing shit

masterlist

"Okay, class. Have that assignment for class on Friday." The English teacher spoke loudly to the room full of students and Warren had to fight to contain a groan.

Creative writing - poetry or the way that Warren saw it, torture. Not to get him wrong, he loved poetry. It was deep and it could say things without really saying anything at all, he was one of those people who just got symbolism, no explanations needed.

However, that didn't mean that he was any good at actually writing poetry. And this assignment was due for Friday, which meant he had four days to figure out how to write a decent poem.

The thought occurred to him to simply pull some shitty haiku out of his ass and maybe get some marks for effort, but, he dismissed it as English was pretty much the only subject that he had an active interest in, he didn't want his average falling because he handed up one shitty poem.

After the bell rang signalling the end of the class and the end of the day, the winged boy made his way to his dorm to work on his homework and make a start on the dreaded English assignment, where would he even begin?

"Hey man, you coming to hang out?" Warren's roommate, Peter, asked speeding into the dorm room.

Looking up from the blank page of his English copy, Warren cocked an eyebrow at his silver haired friend, "Who's gonna be there?"

"The whole gang." Peter replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to which Warren nodded his head and got up from his bed, tossing his English copy onto the floor, he'd work on it some more tomorrow.

"(Y/n) was wondering where you were." Peter told Warren nonchalantly, as if it didn't even matter, oh if only he knew.

At the statement Warren's eyes widened and he was flooded with worry, "Why is she okay? Did she need me for something?" He questioned frantically, as Peter pursed his lips and made a face at him.

"No. She just wanted to know why you didn't come to hang out after class ended…" Peter replied heading out the door with Warren following behind him, a lot calmer now.

When the two boys entered the room, Warren caught sight of you immediately, the bright smile you gave him once he entered the room very nearly floored him.

It was no secret to anyone, not even you, that Warren Worthington III was absolutely crazy about you. You were soft and bright, you were the human embodiment of sunshine. To Warren you felt so familiar, like the cool release of fall coming in after a hot summer.

See, he absolutely understood symbolism, especially when it came to you: His girl that isn't actually his girl.

Warren walked over to the seat you'd saved him on the couch, beside you, trying his best to keep up his cool exterior Warren sat down and threw his arm over the back of the couch, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he did.

"Hey, Princess." He reveled in the way the nickname brought a hue of pink to your cheeks, and the smile you tried to hide from him only made him chuckle.

"Hey, War. Where have you been?" You asked, scooting ever so slightly closer to him.

At your question Warren groaned and his head fell into your shoulder in exhaustion. "Ugh, I've got an assignment due for Friday. Have to write a poem- I was trying to work on it after class. It's hell."

Laughing at him, you brought your hand up to play with his blonde curls that were brushing against your neck as he huffed about English.

"I thought you loved poetry?" You wondered out loud, frowning as he shook his head against your shoulder.

You were sure he loved poetry, something about the symbolism and depth of words.

"Not if I'm the one writing it." He elaborated for you, noticing your frown and adorable furrowed eyebrows and he didn't even realize he was staring up at you until Peter let out an exaggerated groan from the end of the couch.

"Ugh! Would you two just kiss already? The tension is k-i-l-l-i-n-g me!" He exclaimed, dragging out the word ‘killing’ for as long as he could.

"Peter! Shut the hell up they were being cute!" Jubilee shouted, throwing a handful of popcorn at the speedster who only shrugged.

Kurt looked at you, Warren, Peter and Jubilee confused as Jean and Scott watched you all in amusement.

"Are you two going out?" Kurt asked innocently, looking between each member of the group.

"Might as well be." Peter remarked causing your cheeks to heat and you only added to the teasing as you hid your reddening face in Warren's blonde curls.

"SEE!" Peter exclaimed, pointing at you and Warren accusingly.

You knew better than anybody that you and Warren acted like a couple, but you and him never had that conversation. But it's not like you needed to, it's not like you ever kissed or anything, you were just close.

"Shut the fuck up, Maximoff. You don't know what you're talking about." Warren said, irritation clear in his voice, he didn't even bother to untangle himself from you, you were both used to your friends acting like this.

He cared a little less about the teasing than you did, however. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and eased Warren's head off your shoulder before standing up, "I'm, um, yeah I'm gonna go… do homework or something." You stuttered out before practically running out of the room.

If looks could kill, Peter would've dropped dead from the glare Warren was giving him, "Way to go, asshole."

Come the next day everything went back to normal, Peter's teasing hadn't upset you, not really, it was just that fact that you were in some weird in-between phase with Warren where you both knew you wanted to be more than friends but neither of you had said anything yet and Peter calling you out had just sent you into a whirlpool of thoughts about you and Warren that just left you wanting to be more.

It was always the same, day in day out, you hung out with your friends, you or Warren saved each other the seat beside the other and then your friends teased you about what you already knew. "(Y/n) and Warren act like a couple." This and, "(Y/n) and Warren look so cute together." That. Well you were sick of it. You didn't want to just act like a couple, you wanted to be a couple.

The cycle continued until Thursday. Warren had denied Peter's attempts to get him to go hang out as he still had to write his stupid fucking poem. He hadn't made even a word of progress since the project had been assigned. It was getting frustrating.

He'd been slumped over his English work for about 5 hours, it was late in the evening now and sometime during his struggling to write the sun had gone down.

Warren was pulled out of his trance when you peaked your head through his door, smiling sweetly and glancing to Peter's bed to make sure he wasn't in the room before entering.

"Brought you a snack." You told him, handing him the plate of food and sitting down behind him, propping your chin on his shoulder and looking over it with a sympathetic look, "Still no luck with that poem, huh Birdy?"

Warren only hummed, leaning into your body for comfort, he was stumped.

"Yeah, I've got nothin'."

"Well," You started thoughtfully, "Why don't you try writing about something you like?" You suggested while Warren closed his eyes, "Something I like?"

You nodded against his shoulder, "Yeah, like things that make you happy!" You chirped as he opened his green eyes to look at you, your face so close to his. He could smell your shampoo and see every single detail of your face, like looking at a picture.

A smile broke his face, "I think I'll be able to think of something." He told you smugly.

Looks like he'd found some inspiration.

After you left, Warren didn't waste anymore time and quickly finished his poetry assignment and handed it up on time in his class on Friday.

The stress of the previously unwritten poem had evaporated and Warren enjoyed his weekend with you and the rest of your friends, he had to thank his English teacher for handing out the assignment, though. It made him realize everything he'd really been thinking, the little things he noticed often subconsciously.

When his teacher handed him back the graded poem, he couldn't have been happier, he got an A+ and honestly, it was all thanks to you.

His final product had been about you, after all.

After class he'd walked into the common room, to see that you were the first one there and by yourself.

"Princess." He greeted happily, plopping down next to you and shoving the piece of paper with his poem on it, into your hands.

"Ohhh, A+, can I?" You asked, glancing between Warren and the poem.

Warren nodded confidently, impatient and wanting to see your reaction to his poetry.

"Go on. Read it."

"Okay." You smiled and cleared your throat dramatically before beginning to read.

"Am I allowed to look at her like that?

Could it be wrong

When she's just so nice to look at?" You read out softly, a teasing tone to your voice that soon faded away as you continued.

"And she smells like lemongrass and sleep

She tastes like apple juice and peach

Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture

And she...

Means everything to me" Warren was biting his lip as he watched you read with a small smile, the lines making sense to you, he hoped.

"I'd never tell

No, I'd never say a word

And oh, it aches

But it feels oddly good to hurt" As you read aloud you knew exactly what he was saying, smooth bastard.

'And I'll be okay

Admiring from afar

'Cause even when she's next to me

We could not be more far apart

And she tastes like birthday cake and story time and fall

But to her

I taste of nothing at all." You finished, looking directly into his eyes, lip between your own teeth almost mimicking him.

"Not to be seen annoyingly oblivious or anything, but I have to ask… who is this 'she'?" You asked Warren shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"She is you." The winged boy stated clearly and you couldn't stop the relief filled laugh that left your mouth, followed by a muttered "thank God".

Warren barely had time to process what was happening before you had practically pounced on him, legs either side of his lap, both hands on either side of his face and your lips pressing against his.

Instinctively his hands grabbed onto your ass to keep you steady as he returned your passionate kiss, lips moving frantically against yours while he pressed you closer to him.

Little did either of you know that none other than Peter Maximoff was standing in the doorway of the common room, shaking his head disbelievingly, "Fucking finally."

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #x-men x reader #x-men #x-men apocalypse #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader

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inyoursheets · 5 years ago

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11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

oh my goodness i WISH i had clear insight into my own writing process from start to finish, but honestly? im not that methodological, i think.

i usually start out with a collection of ideas -- and these ideas can be VERY vague. it can be a collection of random objects to scene ideas to themes. i throw them in one document and keep adding things until something of a plot emerges.

it depends on the nature of the fic a little -- most of my PWPs just start out from three bullet points, for example something like this:

jealous!rio

beth showing up without panties

rio’s chain makes an appearance

and then i just start writing, wherever, whatever. but warm water in particular started out with a list of descriptions of their apartment! that entire fic was inspired by me seeing an illustration of an apartment with a lot of blues, but it somehow still conveyed a lot of warmth. that made my mind go *bing* ROOMMATES FIC. so i started out by thinking about the apartment itself. the initial apartment list included:

Floor pillows (beth insisted)

Lots of blues

Long standing mirror (scene)

Tiny, messy kitchen with a fridge filled w/ left-over takeout and Greek yoghurt (for protein), cupboards full w/ rio’s protein shakes

Plants on stacks of books

Big windows, lots of light, one window that creaks

Lights draped places, definitely candles around

One leather couch, kinda worn, needs blankets

some of these things changed -- no floor pillows made it to the final cut, the greek yoghurt has become skyr, idk if draped lights are a thing or not but later on i realized it would clash too much with rio’s aesthetic. so it’s really just a collection of random details that helped me get a sense of the space.

then i made a list of scene ideas. mind you, at this point i had 0 plot in mind besides “ok so it’s gonna be friends-to-lovers”. some examples:

Beth getting ready for a date, standing in front of the long mirror, Rio helping her get her necklace on (top-tier romance)

Working on the couch together, Beth’s legs in Rio’s lap, him rubbing her feet at some point?

rio coming home w/ a pierced nose and beth driving him mad by not even mentioning it

beth lotioning her legs while rio bursts into her room to ask something but getting distracted by All That Leg

falling asleep together on the couch?

again, some of these never made the cut, and some of these grew way beyond their initial idea. then i made a list of plot points, which includes zero actual plot points, a list of “symbols/motifs” -- demonstrating that idk what those mean -- which has only two things on it:

Blue -- the apartment; the hottest part of the flame like the romance inside their friendship

Windows and doors – cracked open, closed off, indicating their closeness? Movement? Transformation?

and a list of phrases i wanted to use in the fic; and a list for each OC. aria’s original list was:

Likable pls

Great humor – maybe her and beth already have a good thing going before she asks rio out?

Never connected how well beth and rio knew each other bc they never show up to the coffee shop together

that first bullet point was very important to me hahaha, as ive talked about here, tho i wanna emphasize again that likeability is not that important.

from then on, i just started working on whichever scene idea sparked the most inspiration that day, kept adding onto different scenes until it started to come together a bit more, and then as i was working on the scenes i suddenly drew connections between them and could build the bigger story.

THEN i listened to hozier while the sun set in my apartment and i wrote the final scene in one go, which changed the ENTIRE fic. i initially wrote this fic as beth not being in love with rio yet, but with the final scene i realized -- nope, wait, actually i want the feeling to be mutual from the start, but they’re both just not gonna know and not talk about it and miscommunicate for chapters on end. this whole incident made me consider the emotional truths of the story instead of just the fluffy, rom-com-esque scene ideas i had, which forced me to do a lot of rewriting and planning and thinking that, as you can probably tell, i hadn’t done from the start. the start was just “omg big windows!!! floor pillows!!!! let’s go!!!!!”

the oh-i-should-consider-emotional-truth realization made me write with a lot more depth and throw in a bunch of reflections in different scenes. i went back to different scenes to look at: ok but how can i add some more... depth here? how can i show where beth’s at, here, in terms of headspace? bc initially it was just “haha, he sees her in panties and is AmazedTM” whereas now it’s also about...idk. friendship. communication. boundaries. the fear of being known, whatever.

im still in the process of writing this fic -- it terrifies me, but there’s a gap somewhere at the end of the fic where i need to justify something else ive written later in the fic -- so this isn’t start to finish, but here’s how it goes for me! there’s ofc also a very tedious editing phase for each chapter which is NOT my favorite part, lemme tell you.

the instigator had a pretty similar process, though warm water takes the cake bc it is not as “contained” as the instigator. the instigator had a clear prompt and then developed much like warm water -- it started out with a list of random lines/interactions/details/sex positions i wanted in the fic, then i made the infamous sex schedule, then i just started working on whichever position i felt like working on, and every now and then work on the prelude to the sex (which was, of course, the hardest, bc how does one get from point one to point threesome?) and the aftermath.

so yeah! that’s how i do! it has a hint of chaos, but i like it, bc i just go with what sparks the most for me in the moment, then figure out the connections later. sometimes that part of the process is less fun bc i don’t always know how to connect all the random writing i did, but once i do figure it out, it’s sooooo satisfying!

thank you for asking!!!!!! writer ask game

#ask #ask games #my fic #me: im not that methodological i think #me: (proceeds to describe my methods in elaborate detail)#OK FINE maybe i AM methodological???? idk #it doesn't feel like it but....yea

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gem-quest · 5 years ago

Text

[ O P H E L I A ... ]

“There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you’ll be free, if you truly wish to be.”  - Pure Imagination

Real Name: Catriona “Cat” Walsh Age: 20 FC: Saoirse Ronan Species & Class: Specter Bard Guild: Moonstone   Description of In-Game Powers: Specters are Gem Quest’s non-corporeal undead player race. They’re notable for only having 9 stats instead of 10, with Strength being omitted from their stat lineup because they literally have no physical bodies. Instead, their Willpower stat serves as their Strength equivalent. This means they have a rechargeable meter of how much they can possibly interact with physical objects before taking a rest or recharging with a spell or potion. Beyond that, Specters are distinguished by their inability to be damaged by non-magical weapons, increased susceptibility to light magic, and inability to be healed via healing potions or traditional physical healing spells (only a period of rest or spells/potions aimed at restoring mental wellness can heal them). The non-magical weapon immunity is amazing lower levels, but it’s not long before everything thrown at you seems to be enchanted or blessed or cursed or whatever. Weirdly enough, as far as the whole “incorporeal being” conceit is taken in other aspects, Specters can indeed take potions, as well as eat and drink. They get decreased buffs from some potions and foods, though. To balance this out, spells that provide small buffs and aren’t explicitly light-aligned are extra effective on them.

There’s a lot of frustration with the class because of its “fake” weapon resistance, since any old dagger with any mild enchantment or magical effect at all on it can hit them. They can’t viably hit physical things in combat without specifically taking Knight, Rogue, Rider, or Mage-Knight as their class. And even then, they’re arguably the weakest race choice in the game for non-magical melee combat. Meanwhile, a lot of physical things and all magic can still hit them very hard very easily.

All of this said, there ARE skills to really like here, too - namely, superb mobility. Specters can pass through physical materials five feet thick or thinner as long as those materials aren’t specifically enchanted to prevent phasing. They float slightly by default and have a rechargeable flight ability that allows them to lift much further off the ground in short bursts. They also have a rechargeable ability (with more uses per charge than flight) that allows them to teleport from where they stand to any spot they can see within 20 feet without a spell as long as they haven’t been hit with an attack in the past 5 seconds. This gives them excellent mobility even in the heat of battle and allows them to have a lot of control over their position and angle. It also means that it’s often smarter for them to worry less about defense than about being hard to hit in the first place.

Place of Birth: Dublin, Ireland

Appearance: Ophelia has a Specter’s signature slightly translucent skin, under-saturated color palette, and skirt hem/legs that trail off into mist. Her eyes are a stormy gray, and her wardrobe is almost exclusively black and white. When it comes to fashion, she prefers some of the more dark Victorian-inspired looks in the game as opposed to the high fantasy, renaissance, or medieval looks that a lot of other characters favor. That said, she’s got a pretty extensive and well-curated wardrobe behind her. She considers it highly important that she have at least one appropriate black and white ensemble to wear in each and every level in order to fit in with the theme. That said, she also has her own signature look that she uses as her “default” (the outfit she’s wearing in her pic at the top of her audition - full-body edit to be shared later!). Oh, and she loves gloves and capes. LOVES THEM. And kind of hoards them, tbh.

Places Most Likely to be Found In-Game: Ophelia’s favorite haunt at the moment is the City of Magic in Level 11. It’s the logical home base for a character who’s both a crafting/magical class AND a ghost. There’s a high enough concentration of both useful items and ingredients AND sufficiently gothic-flavored areas and NPCs to suit all her needs, both practical and aesthetic. She’s set up her own little shop in one of the many background spooky haunted house locations within the shadier-looking part of the city, and her Aesthetic demands she sometimes hangs out at the city’s main graveyard.

Beyond that, she can sometimes be found in various libraries and shops across the levels she can access, looking for interesting bits of crafting knowledge, hints of new items she could try cobbling together, and items that she could modify or combine with something to make can even more useful item. She’s also been known to turn up in random wilderness or roadway portions of levels in the first half of the game, foraging for crafting components that grow or randomly generate within those environments.

Current Inventory:

Screaming Lute (x1): Ophelia is very, exceedingly proud of her combat lute. She crafted it herself out of her bardic starter instrument. Specter Bards begin the game with an instrument they are capable of interacting with consistently. Cat has decided that, within Ophelia’s story, this was Ophelia’s lute in life, and it was destroyed shortly before her death as a way of intimidating her. Anyhow, Ophelia has heavily modified her starting weapon to the point that she thinks of it as an entirely new item. It’s covered in strange etched carvings and shifts between glowing with an eerie red light from the inside and constantly trailing wisps of white smoke. She uses it as her primary weapon in the game, as strumming specific notes and chords on the lute lights up some of the etchings and fires off various spells and magical effects and spells Ophelia has been able to learn. The lute downright shrieks whenever she uses it to cast a spell. How does it work, you might ask? That is a very long story, and one I’m saving for another post XD Most of the spells Ophelia has at her disposal are cast through her rune-covered lute and will be catalogued in her lute info.

Whispering Flute (x1): Ophelia likes rhymes and the aesthetics of symmetry. A secondary combat and utility weapon of hers, this is a flute enchanted to fire off up to three charges of Ventium per day, and one charge of Murmurationium per day. A good insurance weapon to sneak into a dangerous social situation, as it’s a perfectly normal and usable flute until she uses it to unleash the fury of the cold cruel winds of death upon you XD

Empty Unbreakable Bottle (x5): Ophelia favors magical items strongly because Specters can interact with non-martial ones automatically, without having to expend any extra effort or have at least X amount of Willpower to do so. Unbreakable Bottles are the cheapest magical container commonly for sale in game that’s capable of reliably holding liquids, so Ophelia likes to store all liquids important to her in them. And she likes to have at least a couple of empty ones on her at all times in case she wants to take a sample of something or otherwise just needs one.

Unbreakable Bottle of Rune Ink (x5): Rune Ink is an item that can be used as permanent and unfading ink that’s nigh impossible to remove or cover up. More importantly, though, it allows a PC with knowledge of the game’s runes, basically a language of magic that appears in a level or two and on some items, to write runic symbols that absorb nearby magical energy and store it within the object with runes written on it.

Enchanted Carving Tools (x1): Basic carving tools, enchanted to be able to create magical items and inscriptions. Ophelia uses them for crafting both magical and non-magical items, since any given item needs to be enchanted for her to be able to actively use it for long stretches of time anyway.

Enchanted Mending Kit (x1): Enchanted mending/tinker’s tools able to repair magical items without damaging their magical properties. Ophelia uses these to repair any repairable item sent her way, for the same reason she also uses enchanted carving tools for everything.

Paxanimi Potion (x3): A potion that mitigates psychic damage or corruption and provides a temporary boost to a player’s Psyche stat. For Ophelia, as a Specter, this is the closest thing she gets to a reliably available health potion.

Psychometry Scroll (x1): Allows caster to make one inquiry about the past of an object or place, then projects a scene or quote from the object’s or place’s history that provides a relevant answer to that question into the caster’s mind. Without crafting very specific questions, the results can often be vague and unhelpful, as the game will take the path of least resistance in providing a vision that meets the requirements of the inquiry.

Ictuium Scroll (x1)

Second Sight Scroll (x1) (Learning)

Assorted Random Crafting Bits and Scraps

She actually has more inventory kept hidden away within her home base rather than coming with her everywhere. Most of it is just more tools and materials and many, many changes of clothes.

“How much does it weigh? Can I touch, smell, and taste it? Can I put it in my inventory? Is it magical? Is it combustible? How many knowledge checks can I roll on it? Does it match my outfit? Can I keep it?” - Catriona, literally every time she sees any new item in D&D

Strongest character trait: Imagination

Strengths: Ophelia is an immensely imaginative and resourceful person who comes to Gem Quest from a background of extensive fiction reading and making famously effective TTRPG characters. It helps that she researched Gem Quest *extensively* before starting and continued to be active in forums and the GQ Wiki right up through getting stuck, along with getting early advice and support from a beta tester acquaintance. Her ideas are typically wildly innovative and a bit risky, but to her credit, they pay off more often than not. She’s slow to trust others with much critical personal information, but pretty open to giving others a chance and to judging people based on her own experience rather than on gossip. Thinking on her feet is second nature to her, and she’s rarely at a loss for ideas. Her devotion to her character and planned story arc have helped her to maintain a degree of focus and stability that’s thus far proven to be her most valuable coping mechanism.

She’s generally friendly and pleasant despite her spooky aesthetic, story, and demeanor, and she will genuinely try to help anyone who asks her for it. In business and in social encounters, Ophelia is considerate, well-mannered, and often downright chatty, though she usually knows to take a hint when people make it clear that they don’t want to talk. She makes and offers a selection of odd but useful items at very fair prices because she’s not here to make a profit - she just needs enough resources to keep going. She’s earned a bit of good will based on that. Her skill in puzzle and strategy-based quests and willingness to dispense hints on the above, along with her crafting, has garnered her a good reputation as a support player and PC shopkeeper within her guild.

Weaknesses: Even knowing that the game is now a matter of life and death, Ophelia still seems to care more about her in-game narrative and goals than practicality, survivability, or winning. A vibrant creative type who wishes no irl harm to anybody, she has a hard time conceiving that even the most blatantly destructive PCs would truly do harm to anyone outside the narrative. She catches most of the references you make and then obnoxiously, steadfastly denies that she has caught them if you inquire, because Star Wars doesn’t exist in the world of Gem Quest and of Ophelia, dammit! While her coping methods might be working for her internally for now, her devotion to staying in-character makes her a bit of an acquired taste. She is very, very particular about sticking to character, even when it’d be more practical and less annoying for her to drop it. She’s been known to make important decisions that risk her safety (and sometimes, indirectly, that of others) in the name of “authenticity” to her character and story plans.

Far, far too curious and adventurous for someone with a Defense stat of 2. She has lots and lots of interesting ideas, all of which she gives equal chance to, plenty of which aren’t good. Just because her creative ideas pay off more often than not doesn’t mean that there aren’t times when they don’t pay off. And when they don’t pay off, they tend to not pay off SPECTACULARLY. Reasonably likely to get herself killed enacting some inventive and exceedingly high-risk scheme to take out a dangerous boss before it can do damage.

For some folks, the mix of creepy aesthetics and backstory and acting choices with effusive goodwill and pleasantness is more off-putting than inviting. Arguably talks too much, especially when she’s nervous or upset. Has a weakness for getting emotionally involved with NPCs, particularly minor NPCs with chains of side quests or that can serve as temporary companions, despite theoretically knowing that they’re just chunks of code. Seems physically incapable of just sitting back and relaxing for a few without having to start some new project or come up with some new big subplot or plan.

Plenty of folks are happy to buy her crafted items, but she has a bad reputation as an active combatant due to a few infamous Incidents. At this point, only the truly uninformed, the truly desperate, the truly experimental, or the truly crazy in Moonstone would willingly party up with her XD

“Death has made me less than kind. And very, very creative with a broken lute, who knew?” - Ophelia

Player Stats: Ophelia’s defensive strategy in combat is just to not be hit at all. Her Defense stat is dangerously low, with any points that could buff it up as she’s gained levels and experience instead going to Agility and Luck. She prefers to draw her “defense” from stats that she can get more versatile use out of. She’s unusually low in Charisma for a Bard and has only enough Willpower to allow her to craft with physical items. She can’t wield non-magical weapons at all. However, she opted to invest a bit more in Psyche than a lot of other players did since a lot of a Specter’s durability lies in their emotional stability. She also has uncommonly high Intelligence, which combines with her Psyche and Luck to equip her well for puzzle-based and strategy-based challenges.

STRENGTH: X

DEFENSE: 2

CHARISMA: 6

PSYCHE: 7

WILLPOWER: 7

CAUTIOUSNESS: 4

AGILITY: 8

ENDURANCE: 5

INTELLIGENCE: 9

LUCK: 8 

Personality: (A lot of this is already in her strengths and weaknesses, so I’m putting a bit of a summary and some extra detail in here.)

She eats fictional media for breakfast, means well, talks a lot and talks often, has an overall spooky quirky nice one vibe (you know the type), fancies herself an actress regardless of the feedback she might receive, will (un)live and die in-character out of a fruity cocktail of artistic integrity and spite, is the Bard equivalent of a TV mad scientist who tends to cause the problem at the start of the episode with an experiment and then solve it in the last 2 minutes with a crazy genius plan that’s then shown to have not *totally* worked in a post-episode stinger, and is too smart for anyone’s good.

Building a clear narrative here helps her bring some degree of organization and order to the wild creative whirlpool that is her brain. She’d never considered herself much of an escapist until she discovered GQ, where she hasn’t escaped from responsibilities and work and struggle so much as she’s found an intoxicating degree of control over what her responsibilities and work and struggle are. She can write a meaningful story here, be its central driving force, have the impact she increasingly feels like she’ll just never be able to have in real life, and stick her epic quest out to a glorious conclusion. Ironically, she’s a weird mix of always needing an outline and a sense of narrative while ALSO constantly bursting with new ideas and clever but risky plans that she takes quite seriously. Cat harbors perpetual mild guilt for feeling so restless and unhappy - after all, she’s lived comfortable life and has a family who loves, and it’s not like people have to like anything she makes or does or says in order for her to have a high quality of life.

“Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.” - James Joyce

Biography: Catriona Walsh was born in Dublin, Ireland to an Irish mother and an American father of Irish descent. The family moved to New York City for her father’s job when she was just 5, but she and her mom remain close with her mom’s side of the family back in Ireland. After 3 years in New York, the family moved to Columbus, Ohio, where Cat spent the rest of her young life, except for summers. Most summers since she was 13, she’s stayed a couple months with an aunt and uncle who own a small tour company in Dublin. From 16 on, she’s been helping with business while there. Now she’s at college in Dublin and working at the company on the weekends, in exchange for staying with her relatives. She’s studying business for her parents and literature for herself.

Cat has always had a great fondness for the tour company, though mostly for the actual tour guide end of it. She’s a natural storyteller and explorer who delights in going off the beaten trail and sharing all she knows about xyz subject with anyone who seems interested. Unfortunately, her improvisational bent has landed her in trouble with her aunt and uncle more than once. There are schedules to keep and itineraries people pay to be taken through, after all. This landed her behind the front desk of the office answering phone calls and administering group ticket sales, which she very nearly hates.

School is hard, especially with her true interest pushed to the side by necessity. Feeling like none of her ideas ever get taken seriously is hard. Making friends that last beyond one semester sharing a class is hard, and as she gets further into her college career, her future looks increasingly stifled and bleak to her. Attempts to get some poetry and original music off the ground haven’t gone anywhere, ending in some spikes of faceless nastiness that prompted her to delete her one YouTube account and take a step back from social media about a year and a half ago. Sure, she knows she’s supposed to have a thicker skin than that if she wants to go anywhere, and she *does* want to go somewhere. But she can’t seem to make her skin much thicker. She wants to argue with her uncle and aunt a bit more, as she increasingly disagrees with them on quite a few things, but they’re both extremely conflict averse, and she can be extremely lacking in tact about things she’s suitably worked up over.

Through it all, she knows full well that so so many people have it worse, and that she has no reason to feel restless and dissatisfied and unhappy. It’s just that she has a hard time connecting with people and feeling heard. She’s not alone, so why is she lonely? Cat takes refuge in being the zany, intensely individualistic artist who’s sometimes worth inviting to a party for the interest value and who surely has friends somewhere - you just haven’t ever met them.

For the past year or so, all the time Cat has for herself and an increasing amount of time that used to go into schoolwork has been split between her long-time refuge in tabletop roleplaying and her new favorite place: Gem Quest. She’s part of two Dungeons & Dragons games currently being run on Roll20 (well, was a part of them, anyway), both of which she plays as a multiclassed build with some degree of casting put together for a mix of strong utility and intricate storytelling. Gem Quest continues a years-long trend of being in love with exactly one fantasy video game at a time and playing it as much as possible, though it’s her first MMORPG.

Catriona researched Gem Quest *extensively* before ever getting it or creating her character. She heard about it from a fellow member of one of her online D&D groups, an avid gamer happened to be a beta tester. Cat was drawn in by the idea of being able to entirely occupy the space of a created hero within a sprawling fantasy setting and be a version of herself designed as a protagonist in a world designed to be impacted by her. She had a cousin who had a VR headset but decided it just wasn’t really his thing, so it wasn’t hard to convince him to let her use it for this. After waiting to see more setting and story info during the early general release and researching everything there was to know about GQ thus far, including via discussion with her beta tester acquaintance, she entered into the game a short while after launch. She’s had time to level up, mostly in being an item crafter and utility character with a surprising capacity to serve as a highly mobile glass canon blaster (and inexhaustible source of very creative and very insane plans) in combat.

She also has a whole, novella-length backstory for her character - a summary of which I will post later! - that she treats as her character bible and guide for all in-game interactions. It’s based on a single image of a skeleton in a black and white dress in some official art of one of the higher levels where there are a lot of scenic skeletons lying around. This is the sort of brain Cat has XD  

Ophelia, as a character, is the ghost of a minor noblewoman and court musician who was betrayed when she starting poking around into the disappearance of her older brother at court. Her desires to find her brother and for vengeance brought her back as a Specter, but she came back a world away from the place she died and has to go on a quest to make it back and finish her story. Cat built the character to be tied to a mid-to-late game puzzle-heavy level so she could have a big climatic Moment there. Then, she’d continue to the end in search of her fictional brother. Ophelia wields a spectral lute as a spellcasting focus and spends a lot of time pursuing leads about both her brother and her murderer (aka quests Cat finds thematically/aesthetically good for Ophelia).

Cat is VERY set on seeing this plot through and being the hero of her story, from start to finish, despite what’s happening with the game now. She does her part to provide puzzle guides and crafting support for those working to beat the game, but she’s not going to rush through her story and suddenly snap back to being poor little ungrateful and inexplicably depressed Cat who has no place in anything and can’t do anyone much good with what she’s got. While she’s in the game, she’s going to be Ophelia. At least Ophelia has a *reason* to be unhappy and restless, a wildly creative and wildly striving brain tied to the world with a few wisps of smoke. And at least Ophelia is good at what she does.

Never mind how much she adored aggressive exploration and creative combat at first. She’s learned well enough that she’s just a liability there, she’s bad at being in a group, and, not so different from real life, she’s at her best when she’s just at the shop counter being support. She’s already been booted from a couple of parties over her crazy plans, play style, and general personality. And there have been more than enough incidents with her pulling something crazy because it was in-character and genuinely seemed like a good solution with the resources given, usually with at least decent results but always with high risk, that no one in the know is willing to party up with her anymore.

She’s kind of stuck either in her shop or going solo. At least she makes good things, though, right? And she’s just taking her plot slow because of she’s savoring and developing her story, not because people don’t really like conquering life beside her out here either, right?

Right?

Relationships: I’m very much open to some plotting and planning with anyone who’d like to try working something out!

In regards to side characters or such of my own, I have some ideas already for this. I’ll fill these in as I finalize my ideas a bit more!

Char 1 -

Char 2 -

Char 3 -

Playlist: TBF Pinterest: TBF Extra: TBF

#ophelia #catriona #cat #moonstone #character info

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 6 years ago

Text

Heart of Thunder - Chapter 4

Aaaannd here it is! As always also a Link to AO3.

Libertus was all bright laughter and mischievously twinkling eyes, as he clapped Nyx on the back hard enough his whole upper body jerked forward. Nyx sent his best friend and hunting brother a flat stare, which was promptly ignored with another bout of laughter.

“I don’t think that was what your mahir had in mind, when she said she wished you would find someone with the same kind of hard-headedness you’ve got. At least he gives damn fine proposal presents. I’ve never seen a silver spotted coeurl before. Did you?”

Big and strong hands, Nyx had seen wrestle gekkanisu more than once, caressed the pelt he had carefully lain on the table.

“She didn’t say that,” Nyx muttered and stared at silvery tufts upon pointy ears.

“Don’t deny it, Nyx. Just because you were drunk out of your mind, trying – and failing, I might add – to flirt with my cousin until she kicked you in the nuts, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I still remember it. Selena laughed herself sick when she saw you rolling around the floor, flopping like a fish on land.”

“I thought we wouldn’t talk about this anymore”, he groaned.

Libertus gave a snort that clearly said in your dreams and proceeded to hum in appreciation as he carded his hands through grey and silver fur again.

“It’s a shame he didn’t kill the poachers”, said Nyx, definitely not just to change the topic from one of the most embarrassing things he had ever done in his life.

“Well, it’s not like the General already declared his undying love for you”, snorted Libertus. “Don’t get greedy, Nyx. The two of you can always hunt some of those fuckers when you are far enough in your courting. It’s not like you both already skipped the getting-to-know-you phase.”

Nyx let out a bark of surprised laughter at the wording. It was true, however. Normally, before one gifted their intended a Gift of Declaration, there were things most couples did to announce their interest in each other. Most contained dancing pildura together and sharing meals at community fires over longer periods of time, to see if a pair wouldn't murder each other.

They had totally skipped that part.

Resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands, he wondered what he should do now. He needed to present the pelt to the Elders during the next community meeting, which wasn't for a few days, yet. And he also... Nyx bolted up from his chair so fast Libertus stumbled a step backwards.

“The beads”, he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth so fast they were nearly unintelligible. “I need to make his beads!”

With those words he gathered up the pelt with as great a care as he was able at the moment, grabbed his hunting brother by the arm and dragged him out of the room, not caring if anybody saw them.

“Damn it, Nyx! You don't need to drag me like a kid, I can walk by myself, you idiot. The beads don't need to be ready until you want them to.”

Instead of having the desired effect of slowing down the Ulric from his fast pace, it only made him speed up. Cor had given him the ultimate Gift of Declaration, people would tell stories about this for generations, he just knew. He needed to make the perfect Answering Gift. Everything else was out of the question.

Beads weren't the typical gift at this stage, but they were the most meaningful. That and a braid. But since Cor's hair was too short to braid, he would need to string the beads up on a leather cord. He would need to decide which knots to use.

People out in the street were staring and whispering as they passed. Some of the Insomnians – mostly mothers herding their children – crossed the street when they saw them, disapproval clear on their faces. Two tall Galahdian men, one dragging the other. One carrying a large animal pelt, one half slung over his shoulder and the rest pooling in his arm, and the other cursing up a storm.

Nyx didn't really notice any of it, too deep in thought agonizing over which beads to use. They practically ran down the stairs and into the Galahdian market. Here, too, people were staring, but for a whole different reason than the Insomnians did. They knew what it meant when an Ulric ran around with a coeurl pelt outside of hunts and holidays.

Finally they came to a stop in front of a stall that sold a wide range of beads in all shapes and sizes, ranging from nondescript tiny stone beads to the large clan beads. Those were the one Nyx was looking at right now.

“Oh no, you don't. This is a bad idea, Nyx, even for you. The guy won't even know what this means”, groaned Libertus with an air of exasperation, making it clear that her knew he wouldn't be listened to, but needed to say it anyway. Just to potentially have the ability to say I told you so, later.

“He will once I tell him what it means”, mumbled Nyx and handed the spooked merchant three beads the size of his thumbnail.

This was going to cost him a pretty yen, a large chunk of his savings in fact, but he didn't care. The merchant's gaze flickered from the beautiful pelt towards the beads and paled. He stuttered out an offering to use his engraving tools as a free of charge service, which Nyx accepted with a gracious nod.

He sat down at the small workbench, the pelt carefully handed to Libertus who glowered at anybody who dared to stop and stare for too long, even the poor merchant who looked very faint by now.

Nyx set the beads down on the workbench and eyed them for a long moment. They were his clan beads. A mohave turquoise, fulgurite glass and an onyx. Now he needed to engrave them, the question was just: With what?

He should probably incorporate Cor's Lucian heritage as a symbol of respect and to show that he was willing to make compromises. Thoughtfully he picked up the fulgurite glass and turned it between his fingers. It was more a small tube than a bead, the uneven surface not ideal for engravings. For that the onyx was probably best.

Engraving the bladed wing that was the sigil of the Crownsguard, was dismissed immediately. It was too close to the symbolism representing Bahamut for comfort, and no matter how much he was willing to compromise, this was something he couldn't do. But maybe a feathered wing? It was after all the symbol of protection. Lucians still used it, right? Nyx wasn't really sure about that, but it was the best idea he had. So a wing it was, wrapping around the whole bead like a shield. It was a very time consuming and fiddly work, lasting even longer for his lack of experience. But he preserved, because this was important.

The mohave turquoise was a bit easier. Do zestiahte rid rihumate. For hearth and home. The oldest battle cry of Galahd, written in their old runic script.

He had no idea for how long he sat there, bent over the beads, working, but when he laid down the tiny brush he had used to paint the engravings silver and bronze respectively, his back and neck hurt and his eyes burned.

With a quiet groan he stood up, joints cracking, and put the beads in a small case the merchant held out to him with a nervous smile. The man had been behaving oddly since the start. Nyx looked at shoulder length blond hair, decorated with a piece of silver wire wrapped around a braid with a beautifully engraved bronze bead, and blinked. He must be a cousin of Luche's. Why was he so nervous, then?

Before he could ponder that mystery further, a pointedly cleared throat made him look up. Damn, those were many people. A right crowd had gathered around the stall, either looking at him or Libertus and talking animatedly. One of the older teenagers in the crowd looked like he was taking bets.

Libertus stood, drawn up to his full height, in front of Tredd Furia, who looked like he would love to hit his best friend in the face. Which was strange, since it was normally Tredd who loved to needle other people until they wanted to beat him into a pulp. Now, both of them looked ready to throw hands, and the only thing holding them back was the pelt in Libertus' arms. Nyx thanked the Lazarus merchant in a quiet voice and stepped next to his best friend.

“What's going on here?” he asked, voice low in warning.

“You tell me”, said Tredd with a shrug. “I was walking along the market, minding my own business, when I heard the most peculiar rumour: the last of Clan Ulric got gifted a coeurl's pelt, and a rare one at that. I must say, it's very pretty. Couldn't say no to that, could you? Say, who got you shackled to?”

“That's none of your fucking business”, growled Libertus, his face darker than the storm clouds over Galahd.

Nyx clamped a hand on his shoulder, to keep him from doing something he might definitely regret later.

“Calm down, big guy”, he said with a calm that surprised him. “To answer your question, Tredd: the man who gifted me this found it when he took down a group of poachers. He gave it to me observing all the right courtesies and keeping to the traditions. He won me over with the strength he shows on a hunt, and the loyalty he shows those he considers his. Nothing more, nothing less. I dare anyone who has anything against it to step forward and face me.”

His voice rumbled deep in his chest. No one moved for a long few seconds. Nyx eyed the crowd, most people showing a reluctant acceptance, and only very few looked like they wanted to protest, but wouldn't dare to go up against an Ulric. He knew how telling it was that he refused to give a name. It was a clear indicator that his new fiancée wasn't of the Galahdian community.

Very deliberately he turned his back towards the people watching, knowing Libertus would step in should anything happen and paid for the beads, internally wincing at the price. If they had been back in Galahd, he would have taken the beads out of the Clan treasury, but since he had had to leave with none but the beads in his hair that day, he had to buy them now.

He pocketed the case and took back the pelt, demonstratively wrapping it around him like a stole again, causing a new bout of whispers among the crowd.

“See you around, Tredd”, he said and walked off, followed by Libertus towards the tiny leather goods store at the next crossroads.

There he purchased three sturdy and good quality leather cords in the colours of white, light blue and green, much to the excitement of the clerk, since those three colours were the usual ones chosen for what he planned to do.

On the way to Nyx' apartment Libertus was a silent sentinel at his side, and he was glad for it. Eyes followed them, most shocked and curious, but thankfully the people kept to themselves. Galahkari knew how to value privacy.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Nyx, but you know there'll be consequences to this, right? And not only because I can't imagine those noble pricks to hold their useless mouths about this”, stated Libertus after the door to Nyx' apartment was securely closed behind them.

“Cor said something similar about the nobles”, answered Nyx as he spread the pelt over his bed. It covered nearly all of it without effort. It would certainly keep him warm during winter, if it came to it. “He said he would take care of them. I'll let him do it on his own for now, since it's more on his end of things, anyway.”

Libertus gave a quiet hum, not quite happy, but letting it drop for now. “Do you think you could be happy with him?” he asked, tone and face utterly serious now.

Nyx froze for a second in his preparation of some spiced tea. “He wants to make an honest effort, and I'm not averse to it at all”, he admitted softly, not able to keep the honest amazement out of his voice.

“Good”, stated Libertus, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Otherwise I would have fed his innards to the nearest murder of crows I could find.”

He would do that. And get Crowe and Pelna, and possibly even Luche, in on it, too. It was an old Galahdian belief. Corws gathered where there was powerful magic, and while most sensible people avoided those places just to be sure, feeding crows was equal with feeding the magic there. Not always the best of ideas, since no one ever knew how the magic would react to that, but Libertus and probably the others were clearly willing to risk it for him. Nyx couldn't help but feel touched.

“Thanks, big guy, but I don't think you need to do something quite so drastic. Just, you know, help him learn.”

The last part sounded more like a question than he had intended it to. He set two steaming cups down on his rickety table and they sat down. Nyx pulled out the case with the beads and the cords of leather, while Libertus watched him with a solemn face. This place lacked a proper hearth, so he had to make due, with his hunting brother as a stand-in witness since he lacked living clan members.

“There'll be Galahkari who won't agree with this”, warned Libertus, cradling the cup between his hands.

Nyx hummed in agreement and then proceeded to sing an old song under his breath. One about the courage and strength needed to make it through the winter and the knowledge that new life would come with the spring. His friend huffed in amusement.

For a while nothing was heard but Nyx' quiet singing as he twisted the leather cords into knots with nimble fingers, threading the beads as he went along. He kept it as simple as he dared, knowing that Cor didn't wear jewellery, but still hoping that he would wear this necklace with pride.

When it was finished, there were a series of knots and braided sections keeping the beads in place. All of them symbolized something he knew about Cor. His tenacity, his willingness to protect, his strength and cleverness. It was... terribly impersonal all things considered, but the best he could do. Libertus inspected the finished necklace without touching it and nodded after a tense minute. Nyx could feel the tension in his shoulders seep out of him like a dam had broken.

“Oh, thank ahtrii”, he mumbled as he leaned back.

He had no idea what he would have done, if his present had been judged insufficient. Not that he couldn't have gifted it anyway, but it would have made for a sour start of his engagement. Especially since the person he was engaged to was Cor freaking Leonis. The strange bubbly feeling in his stomach was back. It felt a bit like excitement, but underneath it was something else that slipped through his fingers the moment he tried to grasp it.

“How do you plan to give it to the General?” asked Libertus, and just like that the dread came rushing back.

“Kohna”, he cursed and scraped his hands over his face, the stubble on his chin pricking his palms.

His friend, ever the traitor, began to laugh. He shot him a murderous look that made Libertus laugh even harder. In the end Nyx couldn't help his own grin forming. He needed to present Cor with his Gift of Acceptance in front of his Clan and/or family. Anybody who had spent prolonged time in the Citadel, and had a pair of eyes and ears knew that the closes thing to both the General had, were the King and his Shield. Which meant that Nyx needed to get an audience by the end of next week, or get the three into the same room somehow. He should probably tell Cor about this so he would know what he was doing this time. And he could probably help getting the King and his Shield to attend, come to think of it.

“Hey, Libs.”

“...Yes?”

Nyx could practically feel the dread coming from his hunting-brother in waves now.

“You have some time between training and your guard shift, right?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Nyx, no. You won't drag me into that drama.” Libertus looked like he just got stabbed by a tonberry for the first time.

“Please?” asked Nyx, dragging out the word with a shit eating grin on his face.

If Libertus' glare had been able to make him catch fire, he would have combusted on the spot. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, until Libertus' form sagged near unnoticeable and Nyx gave a triumphant grin.

“Fine”, rumbled his best friend, utterly exasperated. “But we're taking Luche as the second witness. He, at least, knows how to behave himself.”

Nyx agreed easily, happy to have found his own witnesses for the presenting of his gift to Cor. Everything would be above board and no Galahkar would be able to complain. A win-win in his book.

“It'll be alright”, said Nyx, not only to calm down Libertus, but himself, too, he realized. “Just imagine what kind of face Lord Amicitia will make.”

Libertus snorted his tea out through his nose.

#ffxv #a coeurl's courtship au #heart of thunder #nyx ulric #nyx is a drama queen #libertus is done #tredd is an idiot #galahd #galahdian culture #curting practices #headcanons #worldbuilding #yes there have been cases of engaged couples where one killed the other #so people have an eye on you #so that it doesn't happen again #weddings are very private though #my fics #the spirit writes

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dxxtruction · 5 years ago

Text

eps2.2_init1.asec

Mr.Robot: Season 2 Episode 4

break-down / character analysis / head canons

(Spoilers obviously, but contains stuff up through end of season 4)

A: first scene

I love this scene a lot so I wrote a lot.

(The Memorial Day situation)

Elliot had been pen-testing, doing white-hat hacking for some wall-street gig. (Timeline= ?-May 2014)

He was on some type of project where he needed to hack until it was un-hackable. (Seemed dedicated to his job there)

Elliot is court ordered into anger management with a shrink (Krista) after being fired for destroying the servers. Hs he claims he was locked in there and fell asleep then woke up in a destroyed room. (I still suspect this retelling to be halfway unreliable even though it’s how it’s told at least twice in the show.)

This happened Memorial Day weekend. - night or around 5pm presumably - people wanted to go clubbing etc. and Elliot did not. They couldn’t leave because Elliot was working. (He didn’t care about them enough to let them go, or was just dedicated to his job you choose.)

2. (Job offering)

Elliot is offered to work at all-safe by Angela around this time (Halloween 2014) but it’s been months since he had been working so what was he doing?

A bunch of Grey-hat hacks to get shady people arrested? Seems he may have just finished one when Darlene arrived.

He sees some potential in accepting, because it a Trojan horse (both what you think it is and slang for a backdoor into a server network).

He’s been thinking about it, though we don’t know how long he’s been sitting on this offer. “the right access the right malware.” His plan is to take down Evil Corp (It’s the first time he’s voiced this, and Darlene doesn’t take him entirely serious at first.)

3. (Darlene and Elliot)

Darlene comes on halloween, she seems bothered by something that may have happened that night (if my timeline is right it could be she had a fight with Cisco because they should’ve still been together then) whatever it is Darlene feels she needs Elliots company that night.

This is the first mention of init-1 the code between her and Elliot. He tries to excuse himself when Darlene first answers, with an excuse he’s going out. Darlene picks up that this is half-assed, showing us that despite her being gone she knows her brother well. (It’s little things like these that give hints as to the hosts habits and how much they overlap with MM’s)

“Great Darlene, haven’t seen you in a long time either. I’d love to hang out.” Judging by the fact Elliot is just now telling Darlene he’s been fired we can assume the extent of there communication is pretty much zilch. Darlene has been away from the city for some time, but I’m not sure its ever mentioned how long.

Per tradition, they’re smoking weed while watching the careful massacre of the bourgeoise (1984). (Darlene is a talkative/hungry type of high and Elliot just chills... and maybe has deep philosophical conversations) This movie carries a lot of importance because it becomes symbolic of F-Society. It starts out with the masked man killing the bourgeoisie kids at a new years eve party, but I do wonder if thats the entire plot or not.

Darlene says several things about it:

(A) The movie was made to disprove meritocracy. (showing the separation of class through the absurd ways in which the characters act.)

(B) it was the source of their psychological dysfunction. (Probably because it’s x-rated, I think this line should only be taken as a joke)

In the dream sequence later in the episode Tyrell and Joanna are wearing similar outfits to the brother and sister in the movie (hinting how Elliot probably sees them)

We get clarification on Darlene having Panic attacks, this is something that has come up before. Elliot shows genuine concern for her mental well-being.

“Since when did pretending everything is okay become the all mighty norm?” *proceeds to act like that at the beginning of season 2*

Unlike Elliot, Darlene has a digital social life. Has instagram, and orders off postmates probably lives a normal life of a 23 year old who happens to be really smart and good at stuff. I definitely think all that go thrown in the trash the second f-society became more than just a what-if. By the beginning of season 1 she’s just as off the grid as Elliot is. (But like I just wanna see Darlene live her life again dammit.)

Sidenote: I wonder who this one is. Part of me wants to say this is Elliot the host, but I have my suspicions MM took over after Memorial Day, (or at the least started to front more often…). Though it does leave me asking why there are sudden amnesia barriers in the time leading up to 5/9. Fragment Krista says MM found it important to start messing with Elliots memories and his past and inadvertently this meant forgetting his sister? Was it a subconscious choice? I can’t confirm, but I still do wonder how much of Elliot we really see in flashbacks and how much of it is MM.

4. (“Do you talk to mom?”)

Dialogue: “No. You?” (“Fuck no, she still shits on dad every time I talk to her… I wish I remembered him better.”)

I don’t have a note really, but this moment is fairly awkward given what we know about Ed—d. Not sure how I read Elliot’s face here, but I think he’s probably on the same page as her because-

Elliot has kept the Mr.Robot jacket.

I believe this indicates the host and MM I think are (were) both protected from knowing about what their father did otherwise that shit would be trash. I wonder Does host Elliot also have the view of his father as his only friend? Anyway I definitely see this as a trigger for Robot, like, thats his clothes for one and ed—d is sort of the trauma he holds.

A switch definitely occurs once the mask is on. There’s an awkwardness where Darlene loses her laughter: does she know exactly what his disorder is? I think at the very least she suspects and picks up on these things. She knows that Elliot is forgetful and experiences moments of derealization because she’s dealt with those moments with him. They are siblings after all, and I think this scene is pretty much in here to hone that in.

Mr.Robot starts a whole speech about a plan to take down E-Corp. Elliot (in reference to everyone because I think this is a shared understanding) knows the hard part of this hack will be he fallout (“that’s the key, the follow through.”)

More indicators he’s been really thinking about this for a while (At the very least since Memorial Day so 6 months; at most since his dad got leukemia). He (Mr.Robot) works out that E-corp will try to come back from the hack and there needs to be a way to stop the from happening.

Destroy public confidence = destroy E-Corp (And this is what Darlene’s been shown doing this season so far)

He then takes off the mask and he’s gone quiet (dissociated?) Probably a switch back. (He looks at it in a way that makes me feel like he doesn’t remember putting it on.)

End scene.

B: Darlene’s visit

“The only way to patch a vulnerability is by exposing it first. The flip side is exposing the vulnerability leaves you open for an exploit.” (I believe this line tells us this episodes logic)

(Plan discussion.)

The plan involves losing confidence in e-corp and Elliot has lost confidence in the plan. (though we are aware phase 2 isn’t necessarily just about losing public confidence, Elliot is later shown to not want this either). He sees it as too dangerous to continue on with, and he feels guilty about it given how Gideon was killed, he doesn’t want more people to die.

However, I feel as if he probably already saw into all the vulnerabilities (because he’s like that). Already figuring they could be exposed (hence danger). He sees the best option would be to quit while they can, but Darlene is refusing.

“What did you guys think was going to happen exactly?” - Darlene referring to Elliot as plural. (We love to see it)

Elliot says it wasn’t him who said everything. (Clarification that a switch did happen in scene 1.)

2. (“This is what she does”)

What does darlene do?

Likely: When she wants something but doesn’t give full honesty about it and doesn’t tell Elliot everything. In other words Darlene keeps secrets, and hides the important bothersome details. She sort of beats around the bush. (She does something like this in scene 1 she needs Elliots company but won’t talk about or say why then avoids confrontation of her mental health)

She’s doing it here not so much for her own comfort but the safety of her brother, because she knows he has vulnerabilities, and can be triggered and emotionally unstable. She doesn’t want to upset him because she needs him to help her and he can’t do that in an unstable state.

C: Chess

1. (Meeting with Ray to play chess)

Chess isn’t really the focus here; Ray picks up on a lot of conflict happening internally, and as an exploit to get Elliot to trust him gives the chess board over.

We see how guilt is burdening Elliot, and he is considering owning up to everything he did. Even mentions how it could stop Darlene from doing “crazy shit”. He doesn’t want to lose her either; or lose any more people for that matter. Losing people was not a part of saving the world he signed up for. There’s also guilt in general because of 5/9 because things are turning out bad.

I’m fairly convinced Mr.Robot is incapable of feeling guilt, or is just hiding it behind the 10 layers of clothes. (Though I guess he’s never met Gideon so why should he care?). Anyway he is consistently focused on seeing everything through no matter the costs.

I just find Mr.Robot coming in and saying he’d swan dive off a building for saying anything pretty funny (don’t ask)

He exaggerates a lot of the time but honestly sometimes he is dead serious about putting the body in pain or in life and death scenarios and so he can be fairly destructive so it’s hard to tell if he is joking, but hey MM (and to my hc host) does hard drugs, so...

2. (A game to end all games between us)

“Winner takes all.” (“Of what?”) “Us.”

(Mr.Robot really do be like “I’mma kill you or myself” Bitch I do not think..)

Robot says Elliot “will be absent from knowing. Losing time forever. A deep black void.” Basically he’s gonna throw him in a pit. And honestly it sounds confident, like he probably feels he can take full control since he’s been around the longest along with the core. (But we know he wouldn’t do it even if he could, the guy has a soft spot. Anyway this is like the IDK what number of times Robot be doing a loop around to get a point across to Elliot. He do be playing the long game and I think secretly he loves a good scheme.) (This is what Mr.Robot does.)

Elliot gets visited by Krista in prison and has told her about the game. (Judging by the fact they meet in her ‘office’ and not in the “Kitchen table” setting we can assume they’re allowed to meet in a private location.) (Edit: disregard this bit I forgot about the reveal that he’d just imagining it on like two separate layers to feel safe enough to speak)

“Krista’s wrong annihilation is always the answer” (He’s just as bad honestly, Krista teach this boy constructive ways). He sees annihilation as self improvement, getting rid of parts of yourself that are ugly or unwanted. We create our identity around desire, and that means destroying parts that are undesirable so all thats left is practically a mask of who we are. (I think the tie into Whiterose through this spill about annihilation is a bit cheap but like I understand the choice) Anyhow Elliot’s pretty much agreeing to a western showdown and has no idea it’s all a rouse so Robot can have his point.

4. The chess match

Ed—d apparently taught Elliot his first ways to code through teaching him computer chess. He talks like he really understands all the logic of chess which makes me think he was letting Ray win before.

Mr.Robot definitely feels a bit uncomfortable with being associated with him just a hint in his voice.

Ultimately they find out neither of them can either win or lose but Mr.Robot knew all along that would happen.

“Fighting for the future we want, it isn’t about playing chess is about what we do out there with them.” (peaking out of his ten layers to show he cares about the outside world, while also expressing how they need to get out of prison.)

“I want to be here Elliot, with you.” (God my heart.)

D: Darlene and Cisco’s hook up

Darlene is very paranoid while walking around, she isn’t sure if F-society really are being offed. However in front of F-society she tries to comfort their suspicions.

Cisco comes to Darlene to warn her about getting killed by DA… but he’s the one who ultimately gets offed. (Poetic cinema)

We learn Darlene’s the type to get upset and defiantly end up having sex in the bathroom of a shady dive bar with her on and off again boyfriend (also Cisco why didn’t you pull out before talking about Dark Army again, like dude lol.)

This is definitely the point they start getting back together.

There a message in gold written on the wall that reads “There's an unequal amount of good and bad in most things. The trick is to figure out the ratio and act accordingly. Stay frosty all. Peace.” - its from this tweet: x

Operation Berenstain is first mentioned. I’m in agreement the name references the popular conspiracy about alternate timelines.

E: Leon lays it down

Leon asks Elliot if he wants to even be here, tells him he “has to dream in order to find out the future he’s fighting for.” (My initial though is I’m not sure if this means here as in prison or here as in alive, sorta feels like the latter)

“If you like it” (The future you envision) “then it’s beautiful, if it’s not then you might as well fade the fuck out right now.” (Hard) (definitely means the latter)

I appreciate Leon so much. “Existence could be beautiful or it could be ugly. But thats on you.” He’s really good for Elliot, really no bs, no loop arounds, he just tells it straight. And you know what? He listens to him because he actually goes to bed dreaming about it.

“What is the future? Leon says one needs to understand that before they’re ready to fight for their existence.”

This dream sequence is so impactful, Leon’s influence. I’m not gonna go in on the shots, however we do get to see a really honest view on how Elliot truly sees the people that have been a part of his life in a variety of subtle ways. We see a lot of what he desires or seeks is happiness for everyone around him.

“Will I reconnect for those I care for. Will I reunite with old friends long gone. See the ones I love find true happiness. Maybe this future includes people I never dreamed of getting close to. Even make amends with those I have unfairly wronged. A future that’s not so lonely. A future filled with friends and family. The world I’ve always wanted. And I’d like very much to fight for it.”

I bold texted that last bit because it really hits, and I think its what becomes the foundations for what Elliot ends up saying to Whiterose at the end. Not to pull a Darlene but this show is clearly trying to say how hard it is to find connection in a world of capitalist alienation.

When Leon sort of digs into Elliot and asks if he really does want to die. Elliot’s dream confirms, no, we find out Elliot actually wants to live in order to improve the future, and he wants connections to be there. It’s what he’s always wanted. (Yet he still does the end all match right after this sequence because he’s convinced he’ll win and get that future on his own. Both these boys are very stubborn.)

F: Do you remember the first command you ever taught me?

Init 1.

What Elliot taught Darlene when her computer kept crashing. She says this in scene one, and its what makes Elliot stop making excuses. The same thing happens here, Elliot has no choice but to help. Thats what the code between them means: Drop everything and help me.

What is it? Init 1 is a run level in linux which indicates a single-user/emergency mode. Streamlining the route to only the root, while disconnecting from the network or multitasker. Used for administrative tasks.

Elliot has to stop the FBI from owning f-society and the only way to do that is by using Ray’s computer. (fuck Ray btw). Just to make sure, he asks Darlene is he is really needed by her or if she wants Robot. I think he needed the reassurance that Darlene still cares (and of course she does).

The second part of the title is .Asec - android files preventing corruption from other programs. So the whole title translates to roughly; Help prevent corruption. And a nod to the way of doing it through hacking into the FBI android phone network. (These titles are genius and have so many layers)

G. Side stuff

1. The FBI have found Fun Society LLC through Dom. I love Dom but idk how I feel about her in these early episodes. She is a fairly good detective though. I think Romero’s character being linked to stealing power from the grid is a nod to the novel Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Ellison touches on social and intellectual issues faced by the African Americans in the early twentieth century. Also I noticed Dom’s supervisor is there and he’s already seen trying to sway the direction away from uncovering he truth.

2. On that note so is Angela. I think we’re intentionally supposed to be annoyed with her because she’s staying at E-Corp even though she knows she’s being manipulated.

“All of my dreams are coming true right now.” - as the bastard guys are being arrested. Not to say this slapped but it did.

We find out Whiterose and Price are in bed together on this thing and this has something to do with Angela and the plant negotiations in the lawsuit. On the phone Whiterose is fussy about moving her operation to the Congo quickly. (lets not try to reason how this plan of hers all works or what the hell it even is). Things are awkward knowing that Price is Angela’s dad, I can’t tell if he’s actually getting close because he wants to know his daughter or if its purely out of getting her around he and Whiterose’s fingers. (both? both.)

In any case I think Esmail sets up the Angela as a counter vulnerability within the main plot, as she’s being open to exploitation by remaining at E-Corp. (refer to the logic set-up)

3. I don’t care for Joanna’s appearance in this episode but she’s running out of money to pay of this guy who has information that could frame Tyrell for murder and is still seeing this guy she definitely hates or likes him but doesn’t love him. Complicated. She needs the severance package to pay this guy off. Tyrell is another vulnerability but he’s undercover.

H. Head canons I thought of while watching

If Elliot hadn’t opened the door when he did Darlene would’ve picked the locks.

Darlene’s go to is always some type of asian food.

The weed is Elliots but the Bowl is Darlenes.

We see coats on the wall hooks in Elliots room, but I think the likes the cold because its grounding so he usually leaves without one on.

When Robot is high (on weed) he just talks like nonstop.

Not a head canon really but I notice Elliot never uses the backrests in chairs. However Robot becomes the chair he is the chair.

Darlene stopped going to dance classes after the hack, I think Angela has also stopped going.

Leons favorite subjects are philosophy and history

#mr robot #eps2.2_init1.asec #as promised I made it look nice to post #I also added a bunch of stuff because I felt like it #This is not comprehensive by any means lol #if this doesn't appear in the tags ...

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 5 years ago

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Empires generate huge amounts of information. Beyond laws, empires have to keep accounts of transactions and taxes, inventories of military supplies and merchant vessels, and calendars of festivals and victories. For millions of years people stored information in a single place – their brains. Unfortunately, the human brain is not a good storage device for empire-sized databases, for three main reasons.

First, its capacity is limited. True, some people have astonishing memories, and in ancient times there were memory professionals who could store in their heads the topographies of whole provinces and the law codes of entire states. Nevertheless, there is a limit that even master mnemonists cannot transcend. A lawyer might know by heart the entire law code of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but not the details of every legal proceeding that took place in Massachusetts from the Salem witch trials onward.

Secondly, humans die, and their brains die with them. Any information stored in a brain will be erased in less than a century. It is, of course, possible to pass memories from one brain to another, but after a few transmissions, the information tends to get garbled or lost.

Thirdly and most importantly, the human brain has been adapted to store and process only particular types of information. In order to survive, ancient hunter-gatherers had to remember the shapes, qualities and behaviour patterns of thousands of plant and animal species. They had to remember that a wrinkled yellow mushroom growing in autumn under an elm tree is most probably poisonous, whereas a similar-looking mushroom growing in winter under an oak tree is a good stomach-ache remedy. Hunter-gatherers also had to bear in mind the opinions and relations of several dozen band members. If Lucy needed a band member’s help to get John to stop harassing her, it was important for her to remember that John had fallen out last week with Mary, who would thus be a likely and enthusiastic ally. Consequently, evolutionary pressures have adapted the human brain to store immense quantities of botanical, zoological, topographical and social information.

But when particularly complex societies began to appear in the wake of the Agricultural Revolution, a completely new type of information became vital – numbers. Foragers were never obliged to handle large amounts of mathematical data. No forager needed to remember, say, the number of fruit on each tree in the forest. So human brains did not adapt to storing and processing numbers. Yet in order to maintain a large kingdom, mathematical data was vital. It was never enough to legislate laws and tell stories about guardian gods. One also had to collect taxes. In order to tax hundreds of thousands of people, it was imperative to collect data about peoples incomes and possessions; data about payments made; data about arrears, debts and fines; data about discounts and exemptions. This added up to millions of data bits, which had to be stored and processed. Without this capacity, the state would never know what resources it had and what further resources it could tap. When confronted with the need to memorise, recall and handle all these numbers, most human brains overdosed or fell asleep.

This mental limitation severely constrained the size and complexity of human collectives. When the amount of people and property in a particular society crossed a critical threshold, it became necessary to store and process large amounts of mathematical data. Since the human brain could not do it, the system collapsed. For thousands of years after the Agricultural Revolution, human social networks remained relatively small and simple.

The first to overcome the problem were the ancient Sumerians, who lived in southern Mesopotamia. There, a scorching sun beating upon rich muddy plains produced plentiful harvests and prosperous towns. As the number of inhabitants grew, so did the amount of information required to coordinate their affairs. Between the years 3500 BC and 3000 BC, some unknown Sumerian geniuses invented a system for storing and processing information outside their brains, one that was custom-built to handle large amounts of mathematical data. The Sumerians thereby released their social order from the limitations of the human brain, opening the way for the appearance of cities, kingdoms and empires. The data-processing system invented by the Sumerians is called ‘writing’.

Writing is a method for storing information through material signs. The Sumerian writing system did so by combining two types of signs, which were pressed in clay tablets. One type of signs represented numbers. There were signs for 1, 10, 60, 600, 3,600 and 36,000. (The Sumerians used a combination of base-6 and base-10 numeral systems. Their base-6 system bestowed on us several important legacies, such as the division of the day into twenty-four hours and of the circle into 360 degrees.) The other type of signs represented people, animals, merchandise, territories, dates and so forth. By combining both types of signs the Sumerians were able to preserve far more data than any human brain could remember or any DNA chain could encode.

At this early stage, writing was limited to facts and figures. The great Sumerian novel, if there ever was one, was never committed to clay tablets. Writing was time-consuming and the reading public tiny, so no one saw any reason to use it for anything other than essential record-keeping. If we look for the first words of wisdom reaching us from our ancestors, 5,000 years ago, we’re in for a big disappointment. The earliest messages our ancestors have left us read, for example, ‘29,086 measures barley 37 months Kushim.’ The most probable reading of this sentence is: ‘A total of 29,086 measures of barley were received over the course of 37 months. Signed, Kushim.’ Alas, the first texts of history contain no philosophical insights, no poetry, legends, laws, or even royal triumphs. They are humdrum economic documents, recording the payment of taxes, the accumulation of debts and the ownership of property.

Only one other type of text survived from these ancient days, and it is even less exciting: lists of words, copied over and over again by apprentice scribes as training exercises. Even had a bored student wanted to write out some of his poems instead of copy a bill of sale, he could not have done so. The earliest Sumerian writing was a partial rather than a full script. Full script is a system of material signs that can represent spoken language more or less completely. It can therefore express everything people can say, including poetry. Partial script, on the other hand, is a system of material signs that can represent only particular types of information, belonging to a limited field of activity. Latin script, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics and Braille are full scripts. You can use them to write tax registers, love poems, history books, food recipes and business law. In contrast, the earliest Sumerian script, like modern mathematical symbols and musical notation, are partial scripts. You can use mathematical script to make calculations, but you cannot use it to write love poems.

It didn’t disturb the Sumerians that their script was ill-suited for writing poetry. They didn’t invent it in order to copy spoken language, but rather to do things that spoken language failed at. There were some cultures, such as those of the pre-Columbian Andes, which used only partial scripts throughout their entire histories, unfazed by their scripts’ limitations and feeling no need for a full version. Andean script was very different from its Sumerian counterpart. In fact, it was so different that many people would argue it wasn’t a script at all. It was not written on clay tablets or pieces of paper. Rather, it was written by tying knots on colourful cords called quipus. Each quipu consisted of many cords of different colours, made of wool or cotton. On each cord, several knots were tied in different places. A single quipu could contain hundreds of cords and thousands of knots. By combining different knots on different cords with different colours, it was possible to record large amounts of mathematical data relating to, for example, tax collection and property ownership.

For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, quipus were essential to the business of cities, kingdoms and empires. They reached their full potential under the Inca Empire, which ruled 10–12 million people and covered today’s Peru, Ecuador and Bolivia, as well as chunks of Chile, Argentina and Colombia. Thanks to quipus, the Incas could save and process large amounts of data, without which they would not have been able to maintain the complex administrative machinery that an empire of that size requires.

In fact, quipus were so effective and accurate that in the early years following the Spanish conquest of South America, the Spaniards themselves employed quipus in the work of administering their new empire. The problem was that the Spaniards did not themselves know how to record and read quipus, making them dependent on local professionals. The continent’s new rulers realised that this placed them in a tenuous position – the native quipu experts could easily mislead and cheat their overlords. So once Spain’s dominion was more firmly established, quipus were phased out and the new empire’s records were kept entirely in Latin script and numerals. Very few quipus survived the Spanish occupation, and most of those remaining are undecipherable, since, unfortunately, the art of reading quipus has been lost.

- Yuval Noah Harari, Memory overload in Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind

#yuval noah harari #memory overload #sapiens #sapiens: a brief history of humankind

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project-rebirth · 5 years ago

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An Analysis of the Supernatural in Toaru & Imagine Breaker’s True Nature

Greetings

This post will analyze the world of Toaru with a focus on Kamijou Touma. Thus, this post will contain spoilers up to the latest volumes of A Certain Magical Index, New Testament: A Certain Magical Index, and A Certain Scientific Railgun. If you have not read the source material, I recommend that you press the back button to avoid spoilers. Also, this analysis is 100% made of my delusions. *Analysis posts are delusions based off of the source material in the first place. Be aware that there may be some contradictions with the source material. If you are fine with that, please read to the end.

Kamijou Touma, One of the main characters of A Certain Magical Index and New Testament: A Certain Magical Index. Enrolled in the first year class 7 of a certain high school in Academy City's Seventh District, he is an Aquarius born between January 1st and February 18th. That kind of normal high schooler that can be found anywhere. He has short, spiky black hair (note, it is not natural, but styled that way)and has both an extreme case of bad luck that continues from his childhood and a popularity with girls that was passed down from his father.

He is a Level 0 boy that has in his right hand the Imagine Breaker that can, if it is a supernatural power, erase anything from a nuke-tier explosion to a military grade railgun or even miracle from God with just a touch, and with that an (unconscious) ability to sense the small effects a person has on their surroundings and predict their future attacks called Perception of Premonitions, *This is purely a natural skill and not a supernatural power. and Dragon Strike, the biggest ongoing mystery of the series.

As for why I made this analysis post, I wanted to try my hand at that famous theory that has existed since the dawn of the series. If you have ever viewed a Index analysis board or blog, you've probably seen it before.

The Kamijou Touma = Hadit Theory

There are things that can be found only because so many mysteries have been explained in the source material. (Railgun is also source material). There may be some that are hearing about the Kamijou Touma = Hadit Theory for the first time.

What is Hadit?

To explain simply, Hadit is the second principal deity of the cosmology of Thelema. (The series transcribes Thelema as Telema instead of the more standard Selema), Complement and consort of the highest deity Nuit, the god associated with the direction of South, The infinitely small point and the center of all existence.

Thelema: [Hadit: South, Right, Fire] [Nuit: North, Left, Wind] [Therion: East, Front, Earth] [Babalon: West, Back, Water] Archangels (Distorted) [Michael: South, Right, Fire (Water)] [Raphael: East, Left, Wind (Earth)] [Uriel: North, Front, Earth (Wind)] [Gabriel: West, Back, Water (Fire)] Hadit's symbol is the Pentagram and in ritual is placed to the south and to the right and is symbolic of fire.

And, on the cover of every novel, for Old Testament there is a Reverse Pentagram and for New Testament there is an Upright Pentagram. *However, OT 1 which has Kamijou Touma before he lost his memories and NT 1 which treated Kamijou Touma as if he had died do not have the symbol of Hadit, the Pentagram, on their covers.

The Book of the Law (Liber AL vel Legis)

Chapter 2 Section 6

I am the flame that burns in every heart of man, and in the core of every star. I am Life, and the giver of Life, yet therefore is theknowledge of me the knowledge of death.

Chapter 2 Section 7

I am the Magician and the Exorcist. I am the axle of the wheel, and the cube in the circle. "Come unto me" is a foolish word: for it is I that go.

Hadit is also known as the winged snake of light, the Kundalini serpent, and the fire snake. If you read Index, you've seen this phrase many times.

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law

This is a Thelemic concept and is the fundamental axiom underlying Thelema. Thelemic philosophy first appears in OT1. *SYSTEM, that which reaches the will of heaven without the body of a God, first appears in OT 3. In this post, we will assume Kamijou Touma to be Hadit as defined in Thelema and analyze Kamijou Touma and the world of Toaru using this as a base.

But before that, we will be devling deeply into concepts of Supernatural Power in the World of Toaru.

First is magic.

Magic is the technique of expending mana to apply the laws of other worlds (Phases) to the real world and cause supernatural phenomena. As for how, first, by methods such as breathing, meditation, exercise, and fasting, the user takes control of their own blood flow and the activity of their bodily functions to change their life force into mana. *If the lifeforce (Mana) of humans is to be likened to crude oil, mana is like gasoline. TL Note: 生命力 (Lifeforce) is to be read as Mana, while 魔力 is commonly translated as mana and I don't know a better word for it to disambiguate this.

Once you have gained mana, you can put it through your blood vessels and nerves or tools such as spiritual items and activate your magic by forming symbolic meaning through the motion of your body, chanting of words, writing of letters, usage of tools, etc. This world has a law of equivalent exchange, but magic is a convenient technique that deceives the world into giving 10 results for 1 expenditure. However, the world doesn't just let it go. When a magician uses magic, they interact with the "man-made" Phases placed on top of the world of pure physical laws. This interaction causes the many Phases to come into contact. As a result, Fate, called Sparks (or Spray), is created and makes all humans slaves to fortune.

The heads and tails of the flip of a coin, the order that dishes come out during a meal, the coming together and separation of people, and life and death. In other words, all of the misfortunate events in the world are caused by the Fate created by the collision of Phases. *Although this doesn't only create misfortunate Fate, there are those that die to Fate nonetheless.

This is the greatest flaw of magic.

Second is Esper Abilities.

Esper Abilities are the power to of those who observe their own Personal Reality to distort the world on the micro scale through laws that are different from those of a normal person and cause supernatural phenomena. Personal Reality is established by administering drugs, applying electric shock to the brain, using hypnotism, and many other methods to apply psychological damage or extreme stress to purposefully distance the student from standard reality according to Academy City's ability development program. The possibility of producing fire from one's hand, the possibility of knowing what someone else is thinking, the possibility of an object moving without touching it are all things that exist as a possibility. However, for a normal human, even if there is a slight possibility for such a supernatural event to happen, since they have a standard reality, they can only choose the possibility dictated by common sense.

Someone who has successfully observed their Personal Reality can choose the unlikely result regardless of probability. As a result, they can distort the micro world as they see fit. The changes introduced on the micro scale cause macro scale supernatural phenomena that would not normally occur. This is likened to the Butterfly Effect.

Magicians distort reality by applying the laws of other worlds that lie on top of the world of physical laws. Espers distort the micro scale world using the Personal Reality constructed within them. These powers have long been treated as two separate things,however, it is now known that these can be explained by a unified theory and that there should not be a clear division between the two.

Magic -> Distort reality through the laws of other worlds (Phases). Science -> Distort reality through laws that are different from normal people (Personal Reality). Both of these distort reality through laws that are not normal.

Personal Reality = Personal Phase Both Magic and Science distort reality through the laws of Phases. This is the source of supernatural power. *The 2 differences are the scale and location of the Phase and the point that Espers don't produce sparks. See Shadow Metal. Also, given that Personal Reality is the power of belief, it can be understood that at the base these powers are the same.

Magic distorts reality though "external" Phases that exist on top of the world of physical laws. Esper Abilities distort reality though an "internal" Phase that exists within of the world of physical laws.

However, we'll leave powers that have not been elaborated in the source material such as Ollerus and Sogiita Gunha's unexplainable power, Kamijou Touma's Dragon Strike, Accelerator's white wings, Phase5.3 Misaka Mikoto's mysterious black ball, etc. aside for now. Therefore, Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker is a power that disables (erases) these Supernatural Powers and supernatural phenomena created by these Supernatural Powers. The area of effect is from the right wrist down and erases supernatural powers by direct contact. Another way of putting it is that it can't erase anything it doesn't come into contact with. *However, things like Divine Punishment, Recovery Magic, Teleportation, and Mind Control (depends on angle) that target Kamijou Touma as a whole do not need to be in direct contact to have their activation cancelled or erased.

However, Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker doesn't fit into either of the Magic or Esper Ability categories. Not Magic, not an Esper Ability, not a Gemstone.

Then what is Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker?

Chapter 1: The Power of Wishes

Kamijou Touma's right hand has already been explained in the source material. Imagine Breaker is the aggregation of the fear and wishes of all magicians (Magic Gods). *The phrases Aggregation of Dreams, Aggregation of Desires appear. Not Magic, not a Esper Ability, not a Gemstone. Though it was a mystery in OT, the answer was revealed pretty early in NT. *However, at that point it was only the opinion of the Magic Side (Ollerus). Afterwards, it became more credible with Aleister's explanation of the Power of Wishes at the end of the movie, The Miracle of Endymion, and was finally confirmed by the appearance of World Rejector.

Then, what kind of power is an Aggregation of Wishes? How is it different from a Supernatural Power?

An Aggregation of Wishes is different from Supernatural Powers that distort reality through the laws of Phases in that it is given form by the wishes of people. According to Aleister, "Multiple wishes being given a singular direction can become a power that can alter causality."

Kamijou Touma is not the only one who has the Power of Wishes. At the moment, there are about 5 things that have appeared in the series that can be called an Aggregation of Wishes.

Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker

The Treasure of Blythe Road, the Previous Imagine Breaker

The last boss of OT, Fiamma of the Right's Holy Right

The heroine of the movie, Meigo Arisa (Shutaura Sequenzia)'s Miracle

Imagine Breaker's counterpart, Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector

Given that Fiamma's Holy Right is a similar power to Imagine Breaker, it can be speculated to be the aggregation of the wishes of the Roman Catholic Church's 2 billion or all of Christianity's believers. The Holy Right has the property of automatically adjusting its output to the optimal amount according to the level of the enemy to be defeated or trial to be overcome.

Speed. Durability. Intelligence. Strength. Range. Numbers. Weapons. When a wave of the right hand guarantees victory, such things become unnecessary.

In other words, it is an almighty right hand worthy of "The Likeness of God" Michael.

However, it couldn't decide how much power to output against Kamijou's right hand. Whether it was because it is inherently the same type of power or because Kamijou's right hand contained so much more power, the reason is unclear. Meigo Arisa's Miracle (and her own existence) was born when during the Orion Incident, the passenger's wishes were given direction by Shutaura's song that has been imbued with magic-like power and the magic placed on the Orion spaceplane by Ladylee. Her Miracle always incurs some cost and this cost becomes greater along with the Miracle. For the cost of her ability to recognize music (splitting one girl into two) and the life of her father, the Miracle of 87 passengers of the Orion surviving occurs. Miracle level: Strong

For the cost of her consciousness for a few hours, the Miracle of the debris falling towards Kamijou Touma's head splitting in half occurs. Miracle level: Weak

For the cost of an injury to Kamijou Touma's head, the Miracle of 0 injuries in the crumbling stage occurs. Miracle level: Medium

For the cost of Meigo Arisa and Shutaura Sequenzia becoming one again and going into a state where she can no longer be recognized (not even by Aleister or Lola), the Miracle of avoiding the collapse of Endymion occurs. Miracle level: Strongest

It can be speculated that Meigo Arisa's Miracle works by (unconsciously?) controlling the Fate that would have struck and making it hit someone else.

This cost probably exists because unlike Imagine Breaker, it cannot erase Fate. Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector is the wishes of the Magic Gods (except Othinus) that spilled out of Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker and were drawn to the shining soul of Kamisato Kakeru. *The point that it was drawn to the soul and housed itself in the right hand is the same as Imagine Breaker. With the phrase, "Do you wish for a new world?" as a trigger, it forcibly erases anyone who has conflicting desires, even a god, from the current world and exiles them to another place called the New World. According to Kamisato, "This new world is extra space within this timeline." Even accounting for the Phases and such, only 10-20% of the world is being used. Nobody will realize if 2-3% of the remaining 80% were used to create a new world. This world made of the extra space that nobody will realize is the New World. *Be aware that this explanation is most likely wrong. This touches upon the theory of time within the world of Toaru, so I would recommend understanding the comparison to frames of film.

Unlike the Imagine Breaker, it is activated by the shadow cast by the right hand and has no need to come into contact. Also, it doesn't only target people, but things created by a person that has a conflict of desires as well. *It erased the Phase Nephthys tried to implant. It is also known that when Imagine Breaker and World Rejector come into conflict, World Rejector works on Imagine Breaker, but Imagine Breaker doesn't work on World Rejector. If Imagine Breaker is said to be the Reference Point of the World or the Restore Point of the World, couldn't World Rejector be called the Singularity of the World or the End Point of the World? *Kihara Yuiitsu called it the Edge of the World.

The Previous Imagine Breaker, the Treasure of Blythe Road. The head is made of bone, the feathers of leather, and the shaft of grave wax. It was the ultimate exorcism item created from the right hand of a saint. Given that it's effect is almost the same as Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker, we can speculate it to be, "the aggregation of the fears and wishes of all magicians."

We know that Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker is an Aggregation of Wishes or a Power of Wishes, so how does this relate to the second principal deity of Thelema, Hadit?

Imagine Breaker is theorized to represent Hadit's Exorcist side.

Hadit has two sides. The Magician and the Exorcist.

In The Book of the Law (Liber AL vel Legis) Chapter 2 Section 7 as well as Liber HAD, Hadit is called "the Magician or maker of Illusion, and the Exorcist or destroyer of Illusion", That Kamijou Touma is the destroyer of Illusion probably doesn't need any explanation at this point. However, this is an analysis. To assume correctness and stop thinking just because it feels right is no analysis. Therefore, I will present a number of pieces of evidence that point to Kamijou Touma having the Exorcist side.

Evidence #1 The original usage of the Previous Imagine Breaker.

As explained earlier, the Previous Imagine Breaker, the Treasure of Blythe Road was the ultimate exorcism spiritual item created from the right hand of a saint. Exorcism is the practice of expelling evil spirits and demons. *Was done by the Imperial Palace yearly, but nowadays refers to throwing beans on Setsubun in Japan. According to Mina Mathers, "Imagine Breaker. The ultimate exorcism spiritual item created from the right hand of a saint. The most secret weapon prepared to send back beyond the magic circle those that would not retreat when a summoning went wrong."

Given that the Previous Imagine Breaker and the Current Imagine Breaker have the same type of traits, it is clear that they can be used the same way. Begone Evil Spirit Given that the Previous Imagine Breaker and the Current Imagine Breaker have the same type of traits, it is clear that they can be used the same way.

At the end of OT22, in the Arctic, Kamijou Touma sends back the Archangel Misha Kreutzev. Begone Evil Spirit *Not an evil spirit. At the end of OT22, in the Arctic, Kamijou Touma sends back the Archangel Misha Kreutzev. After crashing the Star of Bethlehem, though not depicted in text, since it can be seen in the illustration that Kamijou Touma has his right hand pulled back, we can imagine that Imagine Breaker was used to send the Archangel back to the correct Phase.

Evidence #2 Kamijou Touma has been referred to as the Exorcist.

The title of Chapter 4 of OT1 is The Exorcist Chooses the End (N)Ever_Say_Good_bye.

Kamijou Touma has been referred to as the Exorcist from the very beginning. The reason he was referred to as the Exorcist is probably because in destroying Index's collar, he saved her from the hands of a demon. The one who put the collar on Index is the Archbishop of the Church of England, Lola Stuart. That's right, the brain-dead-raw-garbage-spit-jar-bastard, the Great Demon Coronzon. At that moment, Kamijou Touma destroyed, although incompletely, the collar placed upon Index by the Great Demon Coronzon.

In other words, he saved Index by freeing her from the Great Demon's control. Couldn't this be why Kamijou Touma was referred to as the Exorcist?

It can also be taken that Kamijou was referenced to as the Exorcist simply because he is Hadit. *Though it's just a guess as I haven't seen the inside of the writer's head, since there is reference to Aleister, Golden, and Thelema (Thelemic Philosophy) in OT1, it can be speculated that the stuff about the Great Demon Coronzon and such already existed in the author's head. (Since these things to hand in hand with speaking about Aleister, it's a natural conclusion) Therefore, I think it has both meanings.

Evidence #3 Kamijou Touma's Catchphrase.

As you know, Kamijou Touma's catchphrase is "I'll kill that illusion" *As a variant of the above, "I'll destroy that illusion" There are also a number of other offshoots. Why is this Kamijou Touma's catchphrase? That is because the Kanji for Imagine Breaker is written as Illusion Killer. But this brings the question of why Imagine Breaker is written as Illusion Killer in the first place, Though this may be getting repetitive, in Liber HAD Hadit's Exorcist side is written of as, "the Exorcist or destroyer of Illusion." I speculated that the reason Imagine Breaker is written as Illusion Killer and the reason for Kamijou Touma's catchphrase is this quote. If so, this becomes evidence that Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker is Hadit's Exorcist side.

As a side note, in Liber HAD, Hadit is referred to as, "the Unity which is the Negative." In NT14, Othinus claims Kamijou Touma's greatest power is his power to connect (NT14p37) and in NT15 Kihara Yuiitsu calls Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker a denying power. In other words, what I want to say is as such.

*There are other interpretations that can be made about "the Unity which is the Negative." As Kamijou Touma is the Negative, he used his denying power representative of this and with his right fist saved those who should have been cut away starting with Accelerator and continuing to Magic God Othinus and Academy City Chairman of the Board of Directors Aleister Crowley and unified them. *This is only my personal interpretation.

Place the side note to the side, I think these three pieces of evidence make the probability that Kamijou Touma contains Hadit's Exorcist side quite high. *Keep in mind, the right hand is only a bonus to he who purifies god and conquers demons. However, This alone is not enough to say Kamijou Touma is Hadit. For Kamijou Touma to be Hadit, there are more questions that need to be answered. From here on, I will answer unresolved mysteries one by one and see how they affect the Kamijou Touma = Hadit Theory.

Chapter 2: The Mystery of World Rejector and the Contradiction of the Current Imagine Breaker

To continue with the Kamijou Touma = Hadit Theory, we must first dig into World Rejector. Why? There is a theory that Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector is Hadit's Magician side, however, in analyzing World Rejector, I began thinking this is a red herring. But before I get into why I came to that conclusion, let's solve the mystery of World Rejector.

Mystery The mismatch between the reason for and time of World Rejector's birth.

As you know, World Rejector is said to have been born due to Kamijou Touma becoming Othinus' sole understander and having diverged from the path of salvation of all of the Magic Gods. And it was the beginning of November that World Rejector entered Kamisato Kakeru's right hand. But doesn't that seem off? The start of November was right after the end of World War III and Kamijou Touma hadn't even met Othinus or any other Magic God at that point. *Kamijou Touma returned to Academy City on November 5th. He went to Hawaii on the 10th. For World Rejector to have been born from Kamijou Touma becoming unable to hold the wishes of the Magic Gods (by becoming the understander of Othinus), it would have to be at least after NT9 and 10. If you want to say that Fate was determined the moment Othinus and Gremlin decided to act, the issue goes away, but even still it doesn't seem right.

I thought about it, and ame to the conclusion that, the true reason for the birth of World Rejector is something else. In the first place, it was only Nephthys' speculation. There is no doubt that World Rejector is an Aggregation of Wishes of the Magic Gods due to it's output and the fact that the Magic Gods are 99.9% of what makes up the Magic Side. (That it is a counterpart to Imagine Breaker is another piece of evidence) It's probably correct to say that it spilled out of Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker. *I'll explain later. However, the idea that it was created because Kamijou Touma diverted from the path of saving all Magic Gods is wrong.

Then what is the reason?

Or better put, who is the reason? I think three people were involved in the birth of World Rejector.

First, Othinus. Let me make it clear at the start that it wasn't Othinus' wishes that shaped World Rejector. Othinus was simply one of the people that created the cause for World Rejector to be born. While the other two are only speculation, I'm almost certain about Othinus. Why? Because it's clearly shown in the novel. I was also able to pinpoint the time World Rejector entered Kamisato's right hand. November 13th, Saying this much, I'm sure many readers can realize what Othinus did to have a hand in its creation. In her first appearance at the end of NT4, just after crushing Kamijou Touma's right hand in Baggage City. Until now, I had thought the one that had taken damage was Dragon Strike. *Accordingly, I thought Dragon Strike had changed in NT14(15). However, the one that was damaged at this point was Imagine Breaker.

How can I say it entered Kamisato Kakeru immediately afterwards? The evidence is in the Chapter title.

Severe Damage RU9NI1bKAKErSA991MA

First part aside, the second part of this Chapter title was a mystery for a long time after the release of NT4. However, with the appearance of Kamisato Kakeru in NT13, it was made clear. It's not the angel language, but it's the same type of thing. Start by getting rid of the alphanumerics. Doing so makes this Severe Damage, RUNIKAKESAMA and if we move the RU and NI...it becomes Severe Damage, KAKERUSAMANI.

Kakeru-sama ni (To Kakeru-sama)

This creates two problems.

First, November 13th is a little late to be called the start of November, clearly being in the middle of November. I'll put this to the side for now.

The second is that Kamijou Touma's right arm was damaged just two weeks ago, at the end of World War III. So why did it happen in Baggage City and not at the end of World War III? There's only one answer here; World Rejector did not appear naturally but was made to appear purposefully by someone. But who? The answer is pretty clear. It has to be the one person who knew of the World Rejector Kamisato Kakeru's existence.

Second, Archbishop of the Church of England, Lola Stuart, The one who created the World Rejector that did not exist up to this point was the shit-mound-barf-bag-toilet-brush Great Demon Coronzon. Some may think, "Can she really do that?" It may sound like it came out of nowhere, but the means by which a Power of Wishes is born is already in her head. At the end of the movie, The Miracle of Endymion, Aleister explained to her, "Multiple wishes being given a singular direction can become a power that can alter causality." At the end of World War III, Coronzon was able to confirm that Aleister was still alive.

Perhaps Coronzon wanted a power to combat Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker (which is under Aleister's control) in order to kill or draw out Aleister? *This plan did succeed. To do this, she found some means to move the Magic God's Wishes away from Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker and as a result, the Magic God's Wishes spilled from Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker and gave birth to Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector.

*She wasn't trying to have it go to Kamisato specifically, but induced the Power of Wishes to go somewhere else. But there's another way to think about this. Even if Coronzon didn't choose Kamisato, she could have been aware that the Magic God's Wishes that spilled from Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker would go to Kamisato Kakeru. Like how Aleister predicted the Imagine Breaker would end up in Kamijou Touma's right hand. If so, we can explain why Kamisato Kakeru began to sense something was off at the beginning of November. This as well is the same as how Aleister Crowley prepared Academy City for Kamijou Touma.

"Imagine Breaker cannot even be recognized if those with Supernatural Power do not gather around it. Kamijou Touma cannot show his tendency to fight if those seeking help are not within reach. ...and yet you were able to stand out more than anyone. Why? It's obvious. The stage set up in Western Tokyo was an Esper development institution set up to maximize the accomplishments of the Kamijou Touma that would one day appear."

The cause for the odd feeling Kamisato had was the stage Coronzon had prepared so that he would recognize the World Rejector in his right hand when he gained the power. *She caused an incident (that could lead Kamisato to recognize his power) or something like that. After all, Kamisato Kakeru has the shitty trait of saving anything in the shape of a girl. With this, I think most of the mysteries surrounding World Rejector's birth have been solved. But there's still one left. NT14 Chapter 3 Page 220 Kihara Noukan's line to Aleister.

"It's quite the outlier if it doesn't get caught in your surveillance net. Since it isn't something a cyber attack could do, it must be pure stealth or some oddity that forcibly wipes out and denies everything that originated from you. Though I can't even imagine the theory behind it."

Third, Aleister Crowley.

Since 99.9% of the Magic Side is emcompassed by the Magic Gods, there's no mistake that World Rejector is the Aggregation of Wishes of the Magic Gods and what spilled out of Imagine Breaker.

Though Aleister Crowley may be a magician even capable of killing a Magic God, he is human.

To be honest, I don't know for sure if Aleister is part of the reason for World Rejector's birth or, if he is, how much of an effect he had. *Even if he did, like Othinus, it was not his intention. I think the probability is low, but it's high enough that I can't just ignore it. *Which is why it's in this post.

The reason is as such.

Though Aleister is categorized into the 0.1% of non-Magic God magicians, a large portion of that 0.1% is taken up by the magician Aleister Crowley. 1 billion, 83 million, 90 thousand, and 287 possibilities. If Aleister has an effect on World Rejector, it is probably the World Rejector's activation trigger being the conflict of desires. *It could be that it works like this because Aleister's desires are mixed into World Rejector. After all, I think the one who is most susceptible to the conflict of desires is not any of the Magic Gods, but Aleister Crowley. We know World Rejector works on Aleister since at the end of NT14 when Kamisato Kakeru fought Kihara Noukan he erased A.A.A, which was created by Aleister.

Even though Aleister left his life preservation machine, he didn't directly face Kamisato, but sacrificed Kihara Noukan to create a confrontation with Kihara Yuiitsu and dealt with Kamisato by having her steal World Rejector. If one were to take the viewpoint of a skeptic, this could be taken as Aleister avoiding Kamisato.

To put these three things on a timeline:

October 31st, end of World War III Coronzon confirms Aleister is still alive.

Coronzon begins testing methods to create a Power of Wishes to kill Aleister.

Coronzon begins tampering with Kamisato Kakeru's surroundings. *Causes some event to tie the girls to Kamisato.

Kamisato Kakeru realizes something is off around the beginning of November.

November 13th, Kamijou Touma's right hand is damaged.

Part of the Magic God's Wishes spill and Coronzon interferes with these spilled Wishes. The spilled Magic God's Wishes are given new direction and as a result come together in Kamisato's right hand. Kamisato Kakeru's situation becomes even worse. December 1st, Kamisato Kakeru recognizes World Rejector as a power he now holds and travels to Academy City for vengeance against the Magic Gods.

That resolves the mysteries of World Rejector.

As for why we had to resolve these mysteries... I wanted to make certain that World Rejector was born of the Magic Gods' Wishes that spilled from Imagine Breaker. Why did it have to be made certain? By making this clear, I can refute the theory that World Rejector is Hadit's Magician side. As for what this means, let's say Kamijou Touma is Hadit. Hadit has two sides, the Magician and the Exorcist. Kamijou Touma is Hadit, so he has both sides, the Magician and the Exorcist.

Imagine Breaker is Hadit's Exorcist side and World Rejector was born from the Wishes of the Magic Gods that spilled out from Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker, his Exorcist side. Did you catch that?

If Kamisato's World Rejector were to be one of Hadit's sides, that would not be the Magician, but the Exorcist.There's probably some people who would ask, "Then what if for some reason Kamijou Touma did not have the Magician side in the first place? What if he couldn't for some reason?"

Kamijou Touma does say World Rejector isn't a fit for him.

However, if we were to say, "World Rejector is Hadit's Magician side and Kamijou Touma only ever had Hadit's Exorcist side," we have a contradiction. In this case, Kamisato Kakeru would have needed to have had World Rejector from the beginning. There are many other things that refute this.

Refuting Evidence #1 World Rejector is an affirming power. In NT15, Kihara Yuiitsu calls Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector, "An affirming power, but it works more like a data wiping software."

Hadit is the Negative. Kamijou Touma and Kamisato Kakeru. If you look at how they save others you can see that Kamijou saves by denying their illusions while Kamisato saves by affirming their ideals. If Kamijou Touma is the Negative, wouldn't Kamisato Kakeru be the Positive? Refuting Evidence #2 World Rejector works like a data wipe software. This connects to #1, but Kihara Yuiitsu says World Rejector, "works more like a data wiping software."Overall, I think this is another piece of proof that World Rejector originated from Imagine Breaker.

In other words, since World Rejector is the same type of power as Imagine Breaker, when fitting them to Hadit, it doesn't fit to the Magician side, but the Exorcist or destroyer of Illusion.

Refuting Evidence #3 World Rejector isn't making Illusion. If we take Imagine Breaker to be Hadit's Exorcist side, we can define Illusion = Supernatural Power (or Supernatural Phenomena caused by Supernatural Power) With this definition, let's take another look at Liber HAD. The Magician or maker of Illusion, and the Exorcist or destroyer of Illusion, World Rejector is a Power of Wishes and is not a Supernatural Power. It can't be said to be making Illusion. Even if we take the Magician and the Exorcist to be referring to different things with the word Illusion, World Rejector is a power that affirms ideals, not a power that makes illusion. After all, it's the person Kamisato's pointing his right hand towards that decides what to desire, not him.

Refuting Evidence #4 Vengeance

One trait of Kamisato Kakeru is that he wants vengeance, However, Hadit has no such trait. If you were to look in Thelema for the trait of Vengeance, it would not be Hadit, but Ra-Hoor-Khuit.

The Book of the Law (Liber AL vel Legis)

Chapter 3 Section 3

Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

Explanation Ra-Hoor-Khuit is the third deity of Thelema's cosmology. The child (twins) born of Hadit and Nuit, also known as Ra-Herakhty or Horus. *One side of the composite deity Horus.

Back to the main topic.

Due to the preceding evidence, I think Kamisato Kakeru's World Rejector is not Hadit's Magician side. Then, where is Hadit's Magician side? The perceptive viewers probably realized upon seeing the chapter title, but the hint to Hadit's Magician side was in the contradiction of the Current Imagine Breaker. That is, Kamijou Touma's misfortune.

As you know, the greatest magic cabal, the Golden, owned the Previous Imagine Breaker, the Treasure of Blythe Road. The Treasure of Blythe Road was used to protect the members of the Golden from the Fate born the collision between phases until it was destroyed on April 13th 1900 when Aleister Crowley instigated the Battle of Blythe Road. The owner of the Imagine Breaker should not be a Slave to Fortune. And yet, Kamijou Touma is Misfortunate. Though some of it can be explained as clumsiness or carelessness, when looking at his childhood, there are many events that can't be brushed off like that. This would mean that, "Kamijou Touma is not erasing all of the Fate that comes towards him."

According to Index he has bad luck due to erasing the grace of God, but Imagine Breaker erases Fate, both good and bad, so he shouldn't be misfortunate. Additionally, in NT15 Kamijou Touma begins to question whether his bad luck is really caused by Imagine Breaker. Though that train of thought gets cut off by the High Priest flattening a certain high school. But why is Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker in such a half working state? Imagine breaker has a processing limit. A limit to the variety, number, and amount of Supernatural Powers it can process in a unit of time. An overwhelming amount Supernatural Power.

Supernatural Power that is sent out repeatedly, whether continuous or not. Supernatural Power that is both of these things. Normally, Imagine Breaker erases Supernatural Power Instantaneously but these things take time to erase and either get stopped in place or, in some cases, reach Kamijou Touma. That's right. When Imagine Breaker reaches its processing limit, the Supernatural Power reaches Kamijou Touma. I came up with a hypothesis. What if Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker were constantly erasing some Supernatural Power and had some of its resources constantly used for that? Let's say Imagine Breaker has a processing limit of 100. Then if 100 Fate comes his way, Imagine Breaker should be able to erase all 100 Fate instantaneously.

However, if 50 was always being used for something else, even though 50 Fate would be erased instantaneously, due to the processing limit, 50 Fate would not be erased and would stay where it is. Of the remaining 50 Fate, wouldn't it make sense that some of it would reach Kamijou Touma? In other words, since Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker is constantly spending its resources erasing some Supernatural thing, it is unable to completely erase Fate as it should, leaving him misfortunate. I think this is the reason for Kamijou Touma's misfortune and the cause of the contradiction of the Current Imagine Breaker.

Then, what could be eating up the resources of Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker?

Dragon Strike.

The existence of Dragon Strike that becomes clear with the contradiction of the current Imagine Breaker. The truths that become clear by analyzing NT. The theory that comes into view with the conclusion of the Kamijou Touma = Hadit Theory?

When science and magic cross paths, an analysis begins.

#ooc #Really long post #Just figured I could share this since I've been thinking #about Imagine Breaker for a while

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