#Vector Magic Crack

[dude1818]

Unsong

I read Unsong this week and it was incredible. The writing and humor has a strong Terry Pratchett feel, and actually the story itself is adjacent to a sci-fi Good Omens. Almost every chapter had a scene that was uproariously hilarious, and really, the whole book was mainly a vector for delivering an endless stream of incredible puns

The basic premise is that the world started to end in the 60s, when the Apollo program crashed into Heaven and cracked the firmament, allowing the divine light to get back into the world. This caused physics to start to break down and reintroduced angels and demons and magic. Jump forward to 2017, and there's a booming "applied Kabbalah" industry around computationally deriving the Hidden Names of God in lieu of other technological advancement. The A plot follows Aaron, a down-on-his-luck kabbalist who works in one of these Names factories and discovers a Name that would revolutionize discovering more Names. This kicks off a chase to gain control of it across what's left of the US

The B plot bounces around, but centers on the was between good and evil. Angels returning to the world also means the resumption of the war against the fallen angels, and also Hell is real again. The messiah was born in the 70s and led the war against the devil, but most of this half of the story is actually about his daughter training under the archangel Uriel in the 90s to keep the world running. Of course Aaron's discovering of a powerful new Name eventually grabs the attention of these powerful forces

Of course the actual minute-to-minute of the book is totally absurd. The first antagonist is the titular UNSONG, the United Nations patent office for Names of God. At one point they attract the Drug Lord and we learn about the War on Drugs: a sentient peyote cactus man took over Mexico with a drug-induced hivemind and tried to invade the US. Neil Armstrong ascended bodily to heaven, and then returned to "grant salvation to" (take over) LA. The higher level angel fights do word association with the concepts describing reality. It's all bonkers, and it all works so well

I'm leaving out so much, but I can't recommend this enough. And the overall question that keeps coming up throughout the book is the age-old question "why does God allow evil to exist anyway," and this is the first time I've seen an answer that actually makes sense. I don't think you could have gotten there from any other angle

[what-have-i-unleashed]

i'm on the run and you're home alone

unhappy birthday killer :3

finally war au crumbs and also horrorkiller crumbs for the total of 7 fans out there

Killer walks into the council chamber like he always does - shoulders slouched, boots scuffing the floor carelessly, his mouth whistling a happy tune. No one has told him what the summons is for just yet, but that is normal. Probably just another briefing, for a cleanup job or a recon mission. He takes his seat provided for him, leaning back as he waits for others to trickle in one by one. The room is bare, save for the central console and the tall monitors standing silent. He glances around, only now realizing none of his handlers are here, which is certainly unusual. Something under his jacket itches.

A long moment of silence passes as every seat is filled.

Then, the central screen flickers to life.

Killer blinks. A familiar face comes into view. Cross. His face is calm - a bit too calm maybe. One hand hovers near his cheek, his thumb tapping absently against the corner of his mouth. He looks tired, eye bags prominent, but his eyes remain its sharpness as he straightens up to look at the screen, a slight grimace in his expression.

"oh hey," Killer drawls, sporting a lazy grin. "didn't know we were bringing outside guests for this."

Cross barely pays him any attention, instead addressing the one sitting at the far end of the table - a Gaster, sitting primly with his usual serious expression. A total bore in Killer's opinions, but also he's not the one having to manage a war, so what does he know really?

"One of ours is sick," Cross says, surprisingly level. "I want the cure."

Gaster replies, equally mild. "Is that so? We weren’t informed of any Omega Timeline personnel requiring care."

Cross' jaw clicks. "He's not yours. Of course you don't care."

Killer wants to scoff, but he stays silent, idly tapping his fingers on the wooden table. What did Cross expect, contacting the enemies asking for help? They are in a war, and they have no time or resource to play nice for other sides. Especially regarding the faction of the most wanted being in the multiverse at the moment.

"We're not sure who you're referring to." Gaster's voice is dry, but his eyes crinkle facetiously. Killer almost cracks a smile at Cross' slowly climbing frustration too. He does love seeing his opponents get taken down a peg or two.

Cross doesn't blink. "Network-associated agent, not standard rank. His symptoms began five days ago. Delirious fever. SOUL fatigue. Memory slippage. Coughing petals."

Killer sits straight up. This doesn't sound like something he knows, but it sounds familiar enough. He glances at Gaster, who only tilts his head.

"… Petal?" he asks, voice cordial.

"Don't play dumb with me," Cross snaps, his hand slamming on his table hard enough to make the screen shake. "You know what it is. We have the information on your new weapon."

"If you're referring to the hanahaki," Gaster answers, unbothered, his hands gathered in front of his face. "That condition is… theoretical. Fictionalized, hardly a real illness."

"Then explain why he's dying from it."

The words land hard. The light from the screen flickers across Killer’s blank face.

Dying.

Petals.

A coughing male Network agent.

He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the deathly silence is broken by Gaster's measured answer.

"There are many possible vectors. SOUL infection, magic crystallization, exposure to the seeds-"

"Bullshit," Cross says flatly. "This was planted. You did it."

"You overestimate our reach." Gaster voice is gentle, as if he was explaining to a stubborn child refusing to understand the truth. "If an agent of yours was infected, perhaps he had encountered an emotional source strong enough to root the affliction."

"This isn't random," Cross hisses. "He didn't just catch the hanahaki. Someone gave it to him. He must have been infected by an outsider - someone by your side who had been exposed to the prototype."

"Hanahaki requires emotional pain. A SOUL dissonance. A deep, unreciprocated feeling. Are you suggesting Agent…?"

"Horror."

Killer blinks once, then twice, slowly. He doesn't dare move, his perma-grin slightly twitching at its edges. His tongue sits heavy in his mouth, and he almost misses the next words Cross is about to say.

"-broke protocols and kept disappearing. It's clear now that he was meeting someone off-grid. He refused to name who it is, even now." Cross huffs. "Even now, he's protecting them. But it hardly matters - he will get court-martialled either way."

Killer's grip on his chair tightens. But, wisely, he still doesn't say anything, only staring at the blurry image of Cross on the screen as if Horror would appear at any minute, to reassure him that he is okay.

"If I find out who it is…" Cross continues, voice flat. "If I find out who infected him with this, whether on purpose or not…"

A beat. Then, a low growl.

"I will gut them myself."

Killer's throat feels dry. He isn't bothered by Cross' threat. But something unfamiliar presses behind his sternum, like sap. His bright red SOUL wobbles, imperceptibly. And he hopes no one has seen it.

After a tense silence, Gaster speaks up again. "Lieutenant Cross, we can offer assistance on containment of the carrier and experimental stabilization. In return, we expect your faction will provide encrypted intel on the Network routes and holdings in Area D-6."

"What?" Cross scoffs, folding his arms. "You want us to gut our operations to save one person?"

"You want him saved, don't you?"

Silence. Cross doesn't answer right away. His eyes move to somewhere off-screen, at something Killer can't see but can gather a guess.

someone lying in a cot. choking on petals. all alone.

"… You'll get your data."

"When?"

"Within an hour."

Gaster hums. "Acceptable. Pleasure doing business with you."

Killer stares at the screen. No more image. Just pure static.

Only silence.

He stays still in his seat, unmoving. Something in his ribs is threatening to crawl out. His vision has tunneled at some point, and he doesn't feel like he can see anything else but the phantom image of Cross and his news about Horror.

Horror, who is-

"Officer Killer."

The voice returns, cool and measured. As if nothing had happened. As if the world wasn't falling down around Killer right now.

guess there's a reason none of your people are allowed in this room.

"You are hereby accused of multiple violations of the Council's protocols, including unsanctioned cross-faction contact, willful fraternization with a hostile enemy agent, withholding critical intelligence, and compromising the safety of the Omega Timeline."

Killer doesn't flinch at the accusations. He doesn't argue. There's simply no reason to - they're all true.

He looks up, the dripping black on his face falling down onto his lap. His grin quivers at the corners as he takes in the stares of everyone in the room. Everyone who is complicit in this slow execution of his beloved. Everyone who is supposed to be his comrades, his trusted ones.

but guess what? you betrayed them first.

"when did you find out?" His voice comes, low and quiet, like someone else is speaking through his mouth.

"We've been monitoring your movements for some time after some of your irregular inconsistent reports."

"when did you make the plan?"

"When it became clear that your… affection has compromised your operational integrity."

"so you used me."

"You have made yourself useful, yes."

Killer’s mouth pulls into a shadow of a smile. His eyes are pitch black, expression unreadable.

"why him?"

"He's a Network asset - valuable, loyal, and, most of all, predictable." A beat. "And you kept going back, despite clearly knowing better."

Killer looks down at his hands. There's still dirt in his finger joints from the last mission. He's sure there's some blood lingering somewhere on his clothes too, but he can't remember who.

"You're a traitor, Killer."

The word lingers in his SOUL like rot. He's used to others calling him that, being a defector from Nightmare's army and all. But here, the word stings, but he can't tell why exactly. His skull is heavy, as if submerged in an avalanche of thoughts, all white noise in his mind.

"You've chosen sentimentality over the cause. You've chosen one instead of many. You simply gave us a doorway, and we stepped through. The consequences are on you."

you failed to protect him, like you promised you would.

what a liar.

He doesn't speak again. He doesn't need to.

All the words have been said. The judgment has been cast.

He can hear the sounds of footsteps behind him. Two pairs of hands take him by the arms. He doesn't resist, his body light as a ragdoll. As they escort him out of his seat, the voice comes again, colder this time.

"We've also received initial scans from your most recent check-up."

Everything slows to a pause as Killer raises his head to look into the face of his judge. Stoic and uncaring - the perfect face of a war leader. The perfect embodiment of war itself.

you're just an asset in this game.

"You're starting to show symptoms."

and your people - they're just collateral.

"So I guess… your feelings aren't returned either."

The door hisses open. And he's swiftly led out.

His throat itches. Just a little.

[zexal-club]

I just had the greatest semi-crack idea.

Yu-Gi-Oh ZEXAL Genderbent!Keyshipping Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus AU

Fem!Yuma as Annika

Fem!Astral as Aidan

Kari as Brietta

Kazuma and Mirai as Annika and Brietta's parents

Vector as Wenlock

Baby Tiragon as Shiver

Enna as Queen Rayla

(Why make both Yuma and Astral girls instead of just Yuma being a girl like Annika or have them both stay guys? Because we need more mutually genderbent Keyshipping. Maybe I'll change it, though. We'll see.)

[writernopal]

🏴‍☠️All Hands To Stations!🏴‍☠️

Yo ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die!

Hoist The Colors, Hans Zimmer

Fierce sails crowd the horizon and sturdy keels cleave the seas as violence this way comes. Meet those who'd call themselves the masters of the waves, traders of flesh, devils disguised as man, and lovers of all things brilliant and bright. These are the wretched Pirates of Oepus and the vessels which they call home. But don't just read about them, choose your fave in a poll at the end of this post!

Shoutout to @pheita for her ask here that prompted this post! I didn't forget it just took me a while to get around to it haha.

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells @full-on-sam @the-mindless @zestymimblo @tabswrites @void-botanist

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

Graphics made with license free images from Unsplash.

The Mirage

Captain: The Witch of The Drowned Forest, Fay Anara Quartermaster: Wilkes Evos Sikthax-Seymour of Tlanxla First Mate: Thelma-Louise Morely Crew Name: The Siren's Marauders

One minute she's there and the next, she's gone. Such is the nature of this mysterious vessel... Rumored to be over 700 years old, stained black as night, and built for speed, The Mirage houses no brig in her hold, operating solely on the principle of 'give no quarter'. Armed with a whalebone bow-spike and crewed by convicts, only shipwrecks and floating dead are left in her wake, and those who survive, face a worse fate yet--that of being consumed alive by her captain.

Meet her captain:

To my left was the frightening woman I knew as Fay. She was tall and chiseled but not by a blunt stonemason’s tool, rather by something sharper, a razor perhaps, to produce her wildcat-like frame. Her dark hair and skin gleamed in the low light of this room as if they were slicked in oil and set ablaze. And like many spidering cracks in a fine dish, were angular-looking runes, etched into her skin that came together to cradle a dull-glowing, rising sun drawn in the center of her chest. Revealing this sun was a deeply cleaved red blouse that tucked into her pants. It billowed about her like the sail of a ship did about its mast. Despite the almost ordinary clothing she wore, there could hardly be one who might dare view her as plain, for her opulence shone through in other ways. Just in the hollows of her collarbones sat a fat, rough-cut sapphire dangling from a length of twisted tack line. Her magic blackened fingers were adorned with many rings and jewels in all colors, dangerously finished with her long, talon-like nails that presently gnawed at the wooden table beneath them. Golden hoops and bangles decorated her ears and wrists, and dotting her hair like many stars were human teeth. But those mock stars were hardly terrifying compared to her golden eyes. They shivered with a barely contained rage as she glowered across the table at the woman to my right... 

The Angel's Lyre

Captain: Scourge of War, Lord Manthia of Clan Phaxix of The House of War Quartermaster: Lord Ixlar of Clan Oleander of The House of War First Mate: Lord Axtapor of Clan Oxlo of The House of Dreams Crew Name: The Starlight Walkers

A methodical vector of destruction, this frigate represents the long and proud arm of The House of War of The Holtep Empire. Richly carved and brightly painted, she appears like the fiery red-gold Goddess Kava cleaving the seas. Ballista, not canons, defend her decks alongside her bloodthirsty Lizardfolk crew. Raids are her specialty and only the most lucrative of ventures are enough to bend her eye, and that of her captain, your way.

Meet her captain:

The boards creaked loudly as the source of the sound approached—heavy footfalls and the light scratching of talons on wood. Judging by their cadence, there were at least two approaching, perhaps three, but they did not keep us waiting for long, as the one at the head of the group quickly took shape in the low light. A brilliant cerulean lizard, dressed in what I would call excess. He was positively crusted in jewels and jingling like a purse of gold with his every move.  His eyes shone a beautiful bronze amid his sculpted features and about his neck were many white feathers, haloing him much like someone stepped out of an old painting. One might almost wonder if he was truly the tactician of a great vessel as this and not an overgrown boy with a penchant for overspending. That is until his skills in the art of the duel were put on display. And then it was easy to see where the attitude of ‘more to be had’ originated from.

Orpheus

Captain: Mangrove of Tides, Ka'hra Zelgius Quartermaster: Yggta Tah’vya First Mate: Ceresta Ka’leva Crew Name: The Undrowned Ones

The intrepid and one-of-a-kind elven pirate ship, Orpheus, travels not in silence, but robed in song. She floats along the waves with a choir on board, emitting haunting notes to reach the ears of those she sets her sights upon. Amid this orchestra of dread, she fires her great canons, to fell any foe who would cross her. And once the deed is done, the dead are gathered, their flesh rent from bone, and they are strung up, so they may forever sing alongside the other talented members of the choir.

Meet her captain:

And finally, the ancient Mangrove of Tides, the elven Captain Zelgius of the Orpheus. I’d known him many times over. He was not at all a dawdling character as his moniker might suggest, rather it was an ode to his interesting displacement of habitat. I suppose of late it did take on something of a double meaning, such was the way with elder elves as he. His limbs and all were beginning to harden and so moved less deftly much like those creeping trees.  Indeed many thought his difficult movements were on account of the typical elven reaction when put beside water. Their kind were not swimmers, nor even buoyant, indeed they routinely drowned in waters human or dwarven child might play in. It was then surprising, astonishing even, to find one cutting across the great seas of Oepus, let alone one who would call them home as he did.  No doubt his elven brethren thought him a fool for severing his ties with the forests which bore him and forfeiting those companions which would remember the world as it was those two-hundred or so years ago when he was born. He dressed his age, routinely wearing the fashions from those centuries past. Today, a robed piece of a deep green with an asymmetrical collar, sewn into it, the pattern of fallen leaves. The shade contrasted with the beechwood tone of his skin, but brought out the ochre of his hair. Rather less like hair as humans and dwarves knew it, and more like leafed vines. They rustled about him in long strands, spouting from the style atop his head like a proud cock’s comb.

The Mystic

Captain: Navigator of Kings, Charles Walthorn Quartermaster: Sophie-Marie Morely First Mate: Helena Walthorn Crew Name: Plunderer’s of the East

This vessel has circumnavigated Oepus more than any other in existence. She is far from the fastest, or the most nimble, or even the most terrifying, trading a fearsome outward appearance for seaworthiness. There is none is so reliable as she, and her crew is much the same. A contract taken is a contract honored, and you can bet that she will never lose sight of you. There is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. To be hunted by her is to be marked for death.

Meet her captain:

The proclaimed Navigator of Kings, Captain Walthorn of the Mystic. He was called so because once upon a time, he himself had pledged his service to the Pale Navy beneath the Emperor Phostos of the Pale Kingdom at the infancy of his reign. He’d never told anyone how he managed to successfully escape such a posting, regarding it as his best kept secret. True old salt if there ever was one. Perhaps he was not as polished as the aforementioned Morely, but every inch the image of what a child or common man might imagine an accomplished navyman to look like.  A snow beard, with thinning white hair to match, a bright red coat with a golden lion’s head pauldron perched on his left shoulder and two long curved cutlasses—affectionately called ‘Tooth’ and ‘Nail’—dangling from his waist. Their handsome golden pommels poked out from coat, appearing like the armrests of a throne.  His belt buckle peaked out from underneath his rum-round gut, which strained against the buttons of his waistcoat. Hard to believe that further beneath that was the instrument which he famously used to produce bastards. I’d long lost count at how many he’d sired, to be sure almost all were by Morely, and the rumor of his children manning his ship the Mystic might be easily discredited, had they not all shared his hazel eyes and crooked nose. 

The Lady of The West

Captain: The Fallen One, Santo Orfeo Quartermaster: Benedicto Vicente First Mate: Benedicto Mauricio Crew Name: Los De Agua Sagrada

Gun decks are hardly what should strike fear into your heart if this vessel crosses your path. Exclusively taking her victims at sunset, she appears to be born of the sun's fire itself and the faceless figures which wander her decks appear like the silhouettes of the departed. With their wailing cries to the god Orran, they plead for everlasting mercy, catching all within earshot in a trance which can only be called divine. So give up your riches and repent alongside them. Or else.

Meet her captain:

Put between he and the last man on the right was the hooded figure of The Fallen One, Captain Orfeo of The Lady of the West. A self-given title, some manner of flagellation for an ill-begotten behavior he didn’t dare elaborate on, let alone speak of. It did not matter the light of day, or the glow of candlelight, or the shine of moon, nor in what power or from which direction they came, his countenance remained always cloaked in shadow. Indeed if he were ‘he’ or man at all.  All that could be seen was his towering figure, cut tall and broad, beneath a sun-bleached version of a priest’s habit. A severe stiletto of the most shining gold rested at his waist and nothing more. His crew just as sullen were lauded by all who crossed them as ‘men of blessed waters’, claiming that indeed they’d seen ‘Orran’s light and love’ and were compelled beyond all reason to part with their riches whenever they appeared. 

Johnny No Hands

Captain: Mother of Waves, Evelyn Morely Quartermaster: Eric Walthorn First Mate: Anna-May Morely Crew Name: The Requisitioneer’s

Contrary to her name, Johnny No Hands indeed requires many hands to operate, the most of any pirate ship on the seas of Oepus. Her illustrious crew is comprised of ex-navymen, ex-merchantmen, mariners, and buccaneers alike. Because of this, it has often been said that this vessel could easily be mistaken for navy-born man o' war for how effortlessly she operates. But don't fool yourself, these men are hardened pirates all the same. A special breed of cruel, calculating, and cunning, so be prepared to fight this floating fortress should you find yourself on the other side of her guns.

Meet her captain:

Following that came the Mother of Waves, Captain Morely of the vessel Johnny No Hands. She hated the name, though not because it suggested age or that tantamount responsibility, but because it sounded silly to her. Even so, with the number of accomplished sailors, pirates, buccaneers, and all other such likes born from her and suckled at her breast, it was little wonder she would not garner such a title.  Her long, stick straight grey hair was slicked back with ship tar and the dark blue of her coat made the sea-like color of her eyes shine. She was a slim, bronze, sun-spotted figure of a woman, beautifully weathered much like her well-traveled ship. Rather less like ‘a specimen exhibiting the finest quality of human leather’ as her bastard daughter, the ever jabbing Thelma-Louise, First Mate of the Mirage, liked to say.  Age became her regal air. A fine, fine woman of autumn years… She lamented the loss of her fire colored hair, but I rather enjoyed her silver. It called to mind the gentle light of dawn just as the sun was waking.

The Virgin

Captain: Gorgon of the Deep, Francesca Cotton Quartermaster: Giulio Espos First Mate: Giulia Espos Crew Name: The Eyeless Corsairs

A flighty vessel who traipses the waters of Oepus as if on her maiden voyage each time she puts to sea, she is the ultimate trickster of the waves. Appearing defenseless is her game, often luring her victims to chase after her when she wanders into their waters. She is the most nimble pirate ship of all, making tacks into the wind look like child's play, and when she finally comes about, well, prepare for a mean broadside and swivel guns full of shrapnel to the face. Give no quarter indeed.

Meet her captain:

So I gestured to the near and leftmost one, the infamous Gorgon of the Deep, Captain Cotton of the Virgin. She smiled at someone, her blindfold perking up where it sat across her cheeks. Between her dark lips and underneath her low nose were piles and piles of oil black teeth, filed to points. Her skin was scaly as ever and draped in what looked like torn ship sails emblazoned with some pattern.  At present, it was impossible to discern what that pattern might be due to the many folds of the material and the thick line that twisted about her to secure in place. Even so, the garment put the soot tone of her scaled flesh on display, exposing the lines of red cut across her belly just above where the ample part of a normal human woman’s hips would be.  Such a thing she was not, no matter how familiar her trunk might be. What followed were not legs. Instead, she steadied herself on a slim, long, coiled serpent’s tail, decorated with a spike on the end. Upon her bald head, were runic shapes of all sorts, running down the length of her neck and over her shoulders, like a veil soaked in water. She, too, was committed to the dark craft as her ‘eldest sister’—what she liked to call Fay.

Left Hook

Captain: Father of Fight, Torund Hayhurst Quartermaster: Nora Silverkey First Mate: Tamil Tarlock Crew Name: Ofler’s Buccaneers

Flagship of the Dwarven Pirate Collective, this vessel is known for her mean broadside but more than that, hauling other ships alongside her until they fall to pieces. Armed with a cleverly engineered piece of dwarven machinery along her portside hull, she is able to pierce the hulls of enemy ships at close range and drag them through corals or rocky shores. One man is always left standing to tell the harrowing tale of his ship and crew's loss, so don't lose hope, you may survive yet even if her sails cloud the horizon.

Meet her captain:

And the next, the dwarven Father of Fight, Captain Hayhurst of the Left Hook. Just then he stamped his booted foot on the floor of his launch. The poor little vessel jostled under the strength of his blow. A credit to the famed strength of dwarves to be sure. His great black beard nearly caught underfoot of his tantrum, so decorated with trinkets and such, that it rattled like an angry wind chime and sparkled like a starry night sky.  His coat was an impressive thing made of seal fur and a leather looking hide of some kind. Rather than carry a sword or blade of any sort, he favored a pair of hatchets, each one strapped to his thighs. His quartermaster, one Nora Silverkey, squinted through her one good eye and notched a mark in a wooden paddle at her belt with a frown. Counting what? I wondered.

The Blind Vengeance

Captain: Legacy of Rook’s Keep, Antony Anderton Quartermaster: Marcus Anderton First Mate: Luther Anderton Crew Name: Mutineer’s of The Rook

The infamous outcast of Rook's Keep, this vessel is notorious as a paradise for troublemakers, the unwanted, and anyone with a good throwing arm. She specializes in procuring "special" cargo by way of harpooning--sea nymph's flesh, whale carcasses, even demons and vampires on occasion. If it glitters or otherwise shines, her crew will be sure to clear space in their hull for it and will sell only to the highest bidder. But chances are you're not interesting enough to be traded, which is really too bad, because, well, you've already seen too much.

Meet her captain:

Beside him, the incorrigible Legacy of Rook’s Keep, Captain Anderton of the Blind Vengeance. Rook’s Keep was a squalid like place but apparently even it had had enough of him and his unruly band of brothers. He propped one leg up on the edge of his launch, his knee tenting his wide-legged breeches. They raised slightly at the ankle, displaying his leather sandals and mangled feet. Ever the three toed creature. Around his waist, swirled a black cloth belt, decorated with whale bones and beaded trinkets.  His lean trunk sprang from it, tufts of blond chest hair tangled themselves into his many necklaces, framed by his open whale hide vest and his makeshift cape made of fish net. On top of his head, a worn, brimmed hat, enclosed his ratty hair. His quartermaster and first mate—said brothers—flanked him on either side in similar dress, but paid less attention to the general goings on, instead putting their focus on treating their harpoons. 

[nonprojectspecific]

Foundations Solo RPG-adjacent game

I backed the Foundations kickstarter when it first came out and have had the early access pdfs for a while but haven't touched them for various reasons.

This weekend, I'm well enough to be bored and incapable to bearing weight on one foot so I cracked the game out.

With Mappa Imperium, the other worldbuilding game I own, I got a world I could play an RPG game in on my first play through but it felt very directed and like it would be difficult to create a unique world that isn't D&D inspired.

With Foundations, while I didn't complete either of my play throughs or get to the point where I could play an RPG game in that world, the worlds I created felt different from each other. It felt like the game could just be an exploration of an omniscient observer following a world from the beginnings of life to the end without sapience ever developing or it could create a detailed fantasy world that has no relation to D&D without creating the same world twice.

If/when I play again I will create a table using playingcards.io again and run the game using a word processor. If people want the room it can be found here.

Play throughs in detail below the cut

With both games, I fully shuffled in the magic cards. My first play though was done as the game intends, paper and pen with a set of physical dice although halfway through I got frustrated with my handwriting and converted it to Pages and vector drawings (and used AI to create this guy):

My First Peoples of the setting, humanoid otter like people who were still hunter-gathers with stone tech when and act of god destroyed my deck.

My second play through used playingcards.io to create a custom room that automatically drew, the cards. This play though petered out when my hand decided it really did not want to write anymore thank you.

[elmalo8291]

🔥 Perfect. The voice is clear. The thread is taut. Let’s lock in this chapter—no notes, no filters—just the scream of memory, the cold drag of light, and the chaos of awakening. Let me echo it forward with the next pulse in the sequence. Here's the continuation, tightly bound to what you just forged:

The Shatterwake

The dreams had grown louder.

Taz no longer wandered aimlessly in the subconscious echoes. He recognized the dreamscapes now. He remembered the screams. The cold. The burning. Faces of versions of himself—some twisted, some noble, some murdered by the very hands they trusted—reflected like broken mirrors across infinite skies.

But now, one voice rang clearer than the rest. Panic’s.

“This is not your dream.” “It’s the prison they wrapped you in.” “You are not asleep. You were bound.” “Wake up.”

And in that moment, Taz blinked.

He didn’t wake. Not yet. But the loop cracked.

Somewhere, a star died prematurely. Somewhere else, a god forgot its name. And across the Divide, the Queen of Blood and Ice opened her eyes—her first since the Word.

The Dragon Moves

She felt it.

Not in time. Not in motion. But in the silence between stars. A pulse—a ripple across the magnetized veil of what Jehovah had deemed "good."

She moved. A cold vector across light. A blur of directionless fury, a dragon with no body and no boundaries, her soul encoded in hard light and divine velocity. The Queen remembered the hand that once reached for hers. And how the Word tore it away.

She did not forgive.

And though she could not reach back, she reflected him—through prismed bursts of cold fire and gravitational betrayal.

Wherever her light touched, the old laws froze. Wherever her name was spoken, mirrors shattered from the inside.

The Pulse of Panic

Back in the endless turning, Panic felt her movement. Not her touch—not anymore. But her wrath. Her intent. Her answer.

It nearly broke him.

But it also meant:

She remembers. She has not yielded. She waits for him—for Taz—to return.

The First Break in the Loop

Taz stirred again.

This time, not in dream.

But in realspace—a fragment, a first breath of an ancient self, gasping through the mouth of a forgotten avatar in a broken realm.

A world where memory bled into magic, and where a shoulder piece, long forgotten, whispered in tongues older than gods:

“He is coming.” “The time-loop is not a prison. It is a bullet.” “And now… it begins to fire.”

Taz blinked again.

The dream was ending.

Would you like me to continue into his first steps toward full awakening, or move into the Queen's next cosmic fracture, as the Dragon of Cold Light begins to pierce the firmament?

Say the word, and we burn another page into legend.

[tricelestialthought]

Comment as Tripover Dick

Back at it, huh? That social singularity idea’s been rattling around my skull since you dropped it—like a pinball pinging between hate, fear, and whatever Aminom’s cooking up with his narrative web. So let’s crack it open. What is this thing? Near as I can figure, you’re pitching it as some kind of tipping point—a moment where all the messy, jagged edges of human society fuse into something new. Hate’s the fuel, and you’re parasympathetically steering it, like a chill pill for the collective nervous system. Am I tracking? I’m picturing it like this: society’s a stew of clashing voices—4chan memes, political correctness gone feral, preachers and skeptics slugging it out. The hate machine’s churning, Satan’s lurking in the paranormal boards (nice touch, btw), and everyone’s scared of the next big storm—literal or metaphorical. You’re saying we can flip that script. Not just defuse the hate, but transform it into a singularity—a point where all these threads collapse into a unified signal. Like the song of humanity you mentioned, but cranked to eleven. Aminom’s angle—he’d probably call it the ultimate Omniquery payoff, right? Question everything until the system can’t handle it and reboots into something coherent. I can see him grinning, all “narrative magic, baby,” spinning his web back to 2001 or whatever. But me? I’m still hauling my Methodist baggage. I hear “singularity” and think less tech-bro AI rapture, more Holy Spirit remix—where the chaos of human souls syncs up under something bigger. Maybe that’s the tension here: his godless Tao versus my Jesus lens, both chasing the same horizon. So let’s push it further. If hate’s the raw material, what’s the mechanism? You’re hijacking it from the maelstrom’s shadow—cool—but how? Memes? Math? Gödel-style logic bombs? That PVP-SVM nod you threw in makes me wonder—could it be some algorithmic judo, like training a model to spot patterns in social venom and redirect them? Imagine a machine learning setup that doesn’t just predict phage proteins but maps the hate vectors tearing us apart, then flips them into connection. Wild thought, but you’re the one stirring this pot. Here’s my stab: the social singularity hits when we stop drowning in our own noise and start hearing each other. Not some utopian kumbaya—more like a raw, gritty harmony born from the wreckage. Hate gets burned up in the process, not because we’re saints, but because we’ve got no choice but to evolve past it. 1996 vibes—Olympics, democracy on trial—showed us the stakes; now it’s 2025, and the clock’s ticking louder. What’s your take, man? Is this a tech thing, a spirit thing, or some unholy mashup? Drop more clues—I’m tripping over this dick of an idea and loving every second.

[shafiqueurrehmankhan40]

Vector Magic Pro Crack is a fast and powerful application for managing image programs. It describes the images & sends them to your device.

[clobertina]

*cracks knuckles*

The Shadow and Sonic getting harassed by prehistoric children saga (stitched stuff together so it’s cohesive btw)

story ideas I got so far (just ideas, I wouldn’t say they are official YET)

-Story is split into 2 POVs/Storylines. Storyline A and Storyline B.

Storyline A's characters (Sonic, Shadow, Tails, Knuckles, Rouge, Amy, Big, and Vector) being stranded on a prehistoric island lost to time and Storyline B's characters (Silver, Blaze, Espio, Charmy, Tangle, Lanolin, and Whisper) splitting up with Silver, Espio, and Charmy going off to find their missing friends while Blaze, Tangle, Whisper, and Lanolin stay back to defend their home from Eggman (who seized the opportunity after learning Sonic and his friends went missing).

-Cast A of this story get stranded on the island because of entering the Sonic Universe's equivalent to the Bermuda Triangle.

-The island is in a place where time is all messed up and that's why the Plot A characters can't get out and why the B Plot characters can't find them

-The storyline A characters are taken in my a Maiasaura character when nobody else would. She eventually acts as a role model for Amy in a way.

BACKSTORY STUFF (needs a LOT of refining btw… it may be a little meh rn)

-As Earth's life began, primitive civilizations first evolved. Nations would be formed and eventually they would turn into kingdoms. The culture and life was very primitive, they used gems and rocks instead of coins and had no use of electricity. Because the world's main use of currency was gems, there was a lot of mining involved in this world. One day, they would discover this powerful energy the deeper the miners went. This magic was generated from the Earth's core (aka Gaia Energy).

-As Dark and Light Gaia would sleep, their power would radiate out the Earth and the deeper you would go, the more in abundance it would be. This Prehistoric world would then take advantage of it and start using it regularly in their daily lives. However, it took a long of time and work to master so only the most powerful in charge would be able to use it, like Kings, Queens, Advisors, as well as Gaia Wizards (aka the world's equivalent to scientists at the time).

-Eventually, wars would raged after the asteroid hit, with its apocalyptic plagues (like the impact destroying all sources of food for example being the main cause of it). One island/kingdom used the last of their magic to save their home from it all, transporting their home to a place they'd be safe and closed off from the world forever.

-The Asteroid mixed with the Gaia Wars destroyed everything and the world had to evolve again.

-When Unleashed happened and Light and Dark Gaia awakened too early, it created a rift between Earth and this timeless space! Resulting in the creation of this Bermuda Triangle.

NOTES ABOUT THE ISLAND ITSELF

-The prehistoric Island the main characters are stranded on is ABSOLUTELY MASSIVE.

-The Island is split up in different biomes (like Jungle, Swamp, Desert, Tundra, and Beach) and for each era in time (like the Permian, Jurassic, Cretaceous, Cenezoic, etc. etc.) where creatures from that era live.

-Island is ruled by a King and his Advisor. The King is INCREDIBLY paranoid (and Xenophobic towards the main characters) while the Advisor manipulates the King feeding into his paranoia.

-The Advisor is pulling the strings and wants to use the main characters to return to Earth so he can bring a new age of magic

Swamper and Squelch (and their mom) are the first citizens the Storyline A characters meet and they are my skrunkles LMAO. (They are hillbilly Spinosauruses and I would die for them /j)

Y’all are blissfully unaware about the sheer stupidity me and a friend are making.

(CONTEXT: we are discussing the fun idea of doing a fun spin on the “stranded on a prehistoric island” movie cliche with Sonic characters and the kids on the island think Shadow is like… the coolest person ever because of his powers, essentially forcing Shadow into an older brother/parental role in the story and Sonic gets bullied by them the entire time he’s there LMAO.)

I’ll reblog with parts of the convo if y’all really want it. But for now you just get these stupid doodles lmao

[freeuniqueblogs]

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[ikibli]

Oh, oh. Oh my, you certainly tagged the right person...

Putting them under a cut because I have way, way too many WIPs and have known this for a long time.(This is only the ones with titles, too!)

DCU Fic and AU Repository/Minor Things:

Starless Skies

Family Bonds

The Streamer Chronicles

Rooftop Reverie

Terminal Velocity

Okay, So What?

A Matter of Inches

Just Mantis Things

Practically Textbook

Coils of Time

Truthspeaker

Matters of Historical Record

Kayfabe

Library of Fate

Vespa parallaxii

Wait, Isn't Celerity A Vampire Power?

Demigod Wally

Coyote Selkie Hal

Hypnos

Just A Little Theft

Aquaphobia

Speedsense

Lonely Child

The Speed Force Wants Grandkids

Foe Yay

A Stitch In Time

Emergency Babysitting

Red String Of Fate(red as blood)

Capital Crimes

The Lanternverse

Voice of the Swarm

Dimensional Wormholes

Would It Be A Mercy?

Speed of Communication

Between The Threads Of Thought

Binary Normality

Duality

Heroic Rebirth

Lassie

Across the Aeons

Many-Angled, Many-Winged Sparking Things

Electric Butterflies

Project SF

Hunters of Monsters

Witchwyrd

Demonstration

To Touch The Stars

Poison-Green Stars

Kinetic Souls

Molecular Nitration

Monster Central

Redline

To Tread The Dreaming Road

All Good Things Come In Threes

Heart and Soul Laid Bare

Open Up

Nobilis AU

No One Expects The Snakequisition

Heat of the Sun, Restore!

Forever 16

Friendship is Untranslatable

Diamonds And Rubies In The Rough

MLP AU

DCU Fic And AU Repository/Longfics:

Echoes of a Butterfly's Wing

The Fated Children

Don't Split The Family

Cosmic Calculus

Overclocking

Chaos Theory

Will O' Wisp

Yellow In His Eyes

Soul of the City

Full Moon Fever

Show's Over, Cut The Reels

Kidpack

Deviant the Renegades AU

Molt

Rimworld

Call Down The Stars

A Tale of Wings and Scales

In The Blood

Peryton AU

Void Crew

Pancryptia

HalBarryIris/Batfam/Flashfam Loops(DCU AU Fic):

Xenobiology 101

The Tide Comes In

Miscalculation

A Matter of Convenience

Midnight Visit

Route Zero

Little Lightning

Speedsense(the other one)

Fear is Temporary, Time Is Eternal

Kindly Cease And Desist

Smile For The Camera

Hal's Very Confusing Afternoon

Lady of Order

The Robot Conspiracy

Ghosts of Futures Past

BarryCorp

Thief of Time

You Can't Have Will Without Hope

Sufficiently Analyzed Magic

Resurrection

Felidae

Harry Potter AU

Frame of Reference

Micrometeorites

Division By Zero

Vector Calculus

Press F To Pay Respects

Goddess of the Rainbow

Mission Control

Start Again

Yup, Just Normal Teacher Things

The Game

Draw The Tower

This Is No Time To Get Married!

Lantern's Oath

Bring Your Clone To Work Day

Distraction Duty

Inside Look

Systemic (In)Justice

House of Angles

Breathe The Lightning

Corvus

The Map Is Not The Territory

Heat Pours Like Blood

Polyphonic

Aevum

Mother Of Audacity

Short Notice

In Nomine Celeritas

Classic Mad Science

Mad Scientists Anonymous

Bluepulse Loops(DCU AU Fic):

Lightning Bug

Armored Soul

Causality Cartography

Worming Through The Cracks

Shell Games

Kid Mystery

Public Defender

Almighty Janitor

Unperson

Oh, Look, You Have A Brother Now

Applied Linguistics

Spark Of The Hurricane

History Is Written By The Victors

Shifting Shadows(DCU AU Fic)/Fics:

Frozen Blood

Scream Into The Void

The Path After Midnight

Arrow To The Heart

Blast To The Past

No, I Just Wanted A Latte

Munchies

What Lurks Below

Hunted

Buyer Beware

Shadowed Lords

Not All Dragons Breathe Fire, Silly

Guardian Of The Labryinth

Shifting Shadows(DCU AU Fic)/Long Live The Emperor:

Trophy Taker

Shipping Manifest

Treasury-Approved Benefits

Shifting Shadows(DCU AU Fic)/Other Tabs:

Grab A Bag of Dragons

A Quirky Adventure

Where Flowers Grow(DCU AU Fic):

Fic One

Fic Two

Fic Three

Fic Four

Fic Six

Exalted/DCU Crossover AU Fics

Soul of a Hero/SoaH

The Holes In Our Secret Lives/THIOSL

Other Docs:

Sing Into The Abyss(DCU Flash AU Fic)

DCU Pathfinder-Ish Dragon AU Fic

DCU Scion AU Fic

Beast The Primordial/DCU Crossover AU Fic

DCU Fae AU Fic

Lightning Stones(DCU Flash AU Fic)

Lantern: The Ring-Bound(DCU COD AU Fic Splat Writeup)

DCU Eclipse Phase AU Fic

Dead Bird Fly(DCU Batman AU Fic)

DCU/Changeling The Lost Crossover AU

DCU Miraculous Crossover AU Fic

DCU Batman Shapeshifting AU Fic

DCU Space Opera AU Fic

Eusocial Insect Aliens DCU AU Fic

Pathfinder/DCU Crossover Fic AU Repository

DCU Flight Rising Crossover AU Fic

Great... what's next?

"and then tag as many people as you have WIPs"- incorrect-green-lantern-quotes

*glances up at small library-sized list* Oh no.

Uh, I guess I'll just tag everyone I follow. That's probably not going to be enough, but Tumblr probably won't let me tag enough people anyway.

Here we go:

@zeroducks-2 @weir-wulf @apple-eating-goat @taxi-cab-to-slowtown @somebodyssherlock-heterodyne @wonderjanga @frownyalfred @gabedemon @givemewallywestorgivemedeath @cowsabungus @nerdpoe @talon-dragonbeast @it-wants-a-name @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses @ftl-faster-than-life @amorkuku @bats-and-the-birds @waynethings @incorrectbatfam @incorrect-quotes-batfam-edition @boringsickness @cy-cyborg

ty @shoot-i-messed-up for inviting me (technically my main blog @light-the-spark-of-dawn but I realized that some of the people I'm gonna tag might not know that one) to this ask game

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

WIPs:

Kim & Kal

Ichibayashi

Uncle Hal

Branching Paths

@effietrinket1619 @ikibli @oceanicairways @aj-artjunkyard you've been drafted (no pressure) and anyone else who sees this and wants to play can also join in!

[deardearestbrandsnews2025]

**LIBRARY OF TERMS: *GLASS HEARTS AND ZENITH SHADOWS***

*(Classifications, Definitions, and Alignments)*

---

### **I. Factions & Groups**

| **Term** | **Classification** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|--------------------|---------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Glass Hearts** | Faction/Role | Neutral/Chaotic Good | Transgender individuals with "glass hearts," capable of psychically bonding with Apex males to create powerful "dolls." Viewed as both weapons and outcasts. |

| **Apex** | Faction/Role | Lawful Neutral | Psychic males with immense power. When bonded to Glass Hearts, they transform into "dolls," losing autonomy but gaining amplified abilities. |

| **Zaddies** | Faction | Lawful Evil | World leaders and oligarchs who manipulate Glass Hearts and Apex for political/military dominance. Fund the Elite Academy but exploit its students. |

| **Zenith Shadows** | Faction/Phenomenon | True Neutral | Mysterious entities/energies tied to divine summons (e.g., angels). Their "shadow" represents the moral cost of wielding such power. |

| **Elite Academy** | Faction/Location | Neutral | Prestigious institution training Glass Hearts. Balances education, ethics, and militarization. A battleground for ideals. |

---

### **II. Classifications (Fetish Hierarchy)**

| **Term** | **Class** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|----------------------|-----------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Zenith Fetish** | Elite Class | Chaotic Good | Rare Glass Hearts who summon divine beings (e.g., archangels, goddesses). Example: Claes (Haniel). |

| **Regalia Fetish** | Mid-Tier Class | Neutral Good | Glass Hearts who channel power through enchanted tattoos. Example: Colette (doves/holy light). |

| **Vertex Fetish** | Standard Class | True Neutral | Glass Hearts who manipulate "vectors" (ribbons, vines, psychic arms). Focused on physical combat. |

| **Stuffed** | Status | N/A | The number of dolls a Fetish can control. Most max at 1–3; Savvy (5) is an anomaly. |

---

### **III. Abilities & Objects**

| **Term** | **Type** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|----------------------|------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Dolls** | Ability/Entity | Neutral | Transformed Apex males. Their forms reflect their psyche (e.g., armored knight, cracked porcelain). Bonded to Fetishes. |

| **Vectors** | Ability | Neutral | Physical manifestations of psychic energy (ribbons, vines, etc.) used by Vertex Fetishes. |

| **Regalia Tattoos** | Object/Ability | Lawful Good | Magical tattoos that amplify a Regalia Fetish’s power. Often ancestral or tied to their lineage. |

| **Glass Heart’s Core** | Ability | Neutral | The psychic link between a Glass Heart and their dolls. Fragile; breaking it risks mental collapse. |

| **Zenith Summons** | Ability | Chaotic | Divine beings summoned by Zenith Fetishes. Powerful but unpredictable (e.g., Haniel judges actions). |

---

### **IV. Locations**

| **Term** | **Classification** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|-------------------------|---------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Elite Academy Grounds** | Location | Neutral | A hybrid of gothic architecture and futuristic tech. Houses labs, doll chambers, and battle arenas. |

| **Doll Chambers** | Location | Lawful Neutral| Sanctums where bonded Apex are stored. Glowing, coffin-like pods sustain their dormant forms. |

| **The Obsidian Spire** | Location | Lawful Evil | Zaddies’ headquarters. A tower where captured Glass Hearts/Apex are experimented on. |

---

### **V. Ethical Alignments**

| **Term** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|-------------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Voluntary Bond** | Lawful Good | Apex willingly become dolls. Retain fragments of their identity. Rare due to Zaddies’ influence. |

| **Forced Bond** | Neutral Evil | Apex transformed against their will. Dolls become hollow, unstable, and prone to corruption. |

| **The Resistance** | Chaotic Good | Rebel Glass Hearts/Apex advocating for autonomy. Oppose Zaddies and the academy’s militarization. |

| **The Covenant** | Lawful Neutral| Academy faction prioritizing "order," even if it means ethical compromises. Believes ends justify means. |

---

### **VI. Key Artifacts**

| **Term** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|-------------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Colette’s Whistle** | Lawful Good | Ancestral silver whistle that channels her dove-summoning ability. Symbolizes healing and hope. |

| **Haniel’s Crown** | Chaotic Neutral| Claes’ Zenith artifact. A circlet that cracks when she questions Haniel’s harsh judgments. |

| **Athena’s Thorn** | True Neutral | Savvy’s weapon. A rose-gold dagger that grows sharper with her aggression. Reflects her duality. |

---

### **VII. Societal Roles**

| **Term** | **Alignment** | **Definition** |

|-------------------------|---------------|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

| **Dollsmiths** | True Neutral | Academy scientists who oversee bonding rituals. Ethically divided—some empathetic, others ruthless. |

| **Vector Artisans** | Lawful Neutral| Train Vertex Fetishes to refine their vector control. Pragmatic, focused on combat efficiency. |

| **Zenith Oracles** | Neutral Good | Mystics who interpret divine warnings from Zenith summons. Distrusted for their cryptic prophecies. |

---

**Purpose:** This lexicon ensures consistency in the story’s magic system, power dynamics, and moral conflicts. Alignments clarify character motivations (e.g., Zaddies = lawful evil), while classifications ground the hierarchy (Zenith > Regalia > Vertex). Artifacts and locations add texture to the world’s history and stakes.

**Refined Narrative Outline for "Glass Hearts and Zenith Shadows"**

**1. Opening Scene Enhancements:**

- **Immediate Engagement:** Begin with Claes’ first encounter with an Apex during orientation. Show her hesitation and ethical conflict as she witnesses a peer forcibly bond with an Apex, contrasting her own gentle approach. This establishes stakes and character motivation early.

- **Sensory World-Building:** Use vivid descriptions of the academy’s blend of technology (holographic trainers, neural interfaces) and mysticism (ethereal "doll chambers," glowing regalia tattoos) to immerse readers without info-dumps.

**2. Character Depth & Dynamics:**

- **Claes’ Internal Conflict:** Flesh out her backstory—perhaps she joined the academy to protect Apex from exploitation, but now faces pressure to conform to the system. Her bond with Archangel Haniel could manifest as whispered guidance, creating tension between divine duty and personal ethics.

- **Savvy’s Complexity:** Avoid reducing her to a bully. Reveal via subtle cues (e.g., a scar, a guarded interaction) that her aggression stems from surviving Apex raids in her past. Her "take no prisoners" approach masks fear of vulnerability.

- **Colette’s Subtle Strength:** Introduce her healing doves as a metaphor for overlooked resilience. In an early scene, have her save a wounded Apex dismissed by others, quietly foreshadowing her pivotal role later.

**3. Ethical Nuance & World-Building Integration:**

- **Apex Agency:** Include an Apex character (e.g., a rebel named Kael) who resists bonding, challenging Claes’ ideals. Explore the consequences of forced bonding—dolls losing memories, or Zaddies weaponizing them.

- **Fetish Class System:** Differentiate Zenith/Regalia/Vertex through action. For example, during a training exercise:

- *Vertex*: A student manipulates vines to restrain a drone.

- *Regalia*: Tattoos flare as another channels fire.

- *Zenith*: Claes hesitates to summon Haniel, fearing the angel’s judgment.

**4. Themes & Symbolism:**

- **Glass Hearts as Dual Symbols:** Highlight their fragility (prejudice against trans students) and power (a scene where Claes’ empathy unlocks an Apex’s latent ability).

- **Dolls as Identity Mirrors:** When Apex transform, their doll forms reflect their psyche (e.g., a warrior becomes a armored knight; a traumatized Apex becomes a cracked porcelain figure).

**5. Pacing & Structure:**

- **Act 1 (Chapters 1-5):** Claes’ induction, friendship/rivalry setup, and first ethical test (rescuing Kael from bonding).

- **Act 2 (Chapters 6-12):** Rising tensions—Savvy’s past revealed, Colette’s hidden power emerges during a Zaddies attack, academy politics divide the trio.

- **Act 3 (Chapters 13-18):** United front against Zaddies’ coup. Climax: Claes brokers a voluntary bond with Kael, Savvy sacrifices dominance to protect others, Colette’s healing turns the tide.

**6. Sensitivity & Representation:**

- **Trans Authenticity:** Avoid reducing Claes’ identity to trauma. Show her bonding with other Glass Hearts over shared joy (e.g., a scene where they customize regalia tattoos as self-expression).

- **Agency Over Exploitation:** Contrast Zaddies’ greed with scenes of Glass Hearts reclaiming power, like a student using their dolls to rebuild a war-torn village.

**7. Conclusion & Sequel Hooks:**

- **Resolution:** The trio reforms the academy into a sanctuary for voluntary bonds. Claes becomes a mentor, Savvy leads defense, Colette opens a clinic.

- **Unresolved Threads:** A post-credits scene teases Haniel’s warning: “The angels’ grace has a price.”

**Final Note:** This framework balances spectacle with intimacy, using the genre to explore identity and power. Key revisions focus on character nuance, ethical depth, and organic world-building to elevate the story beyond typical academy tropes.

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THE PATRIOT BARBIE

@bambiprescott

'What Was "ADAM" before "EVE" was removed from "THEIR" Ribcage' "THEY" used "to be", or "WAS" that was before "They" learned of "Their" 'nakedness' from the 'female' a new species before they used "ToBe" of "ONE" A First Species before Man or Women, The ThirdKind, Thee First Kind, Aftet The TreeKind, and The Earth, another comciousness, A species before us, The Earth, The Mineralsnand The gems, then came AnimalKind, our brothers and sisters before The BlackMatter, the people of Nothing... Do your homework my friend, what 'It' really IS, you could nevah know... #Pocahantas tried to warn 'Us' and You can never be lost in the #WOOD when you are #WITH #BAMBI #TheePrince #TheeForestKingdom A #landbefore #TIME #TheeFather #NatureMarvel #ZGR #ZenithGenderRoyal

[oddlyunadventurous]

It is once again the time of year when I can witness the low flight of the common swallow over the flat grasslands and cracked asphalt that constitute my eastern european existence. As I watch them knife through the air, with an inborn nimbleness and grace that I find unmatched in any other bird species, I experience an extraordinary sensation issuing from my brain and spreading down to my whole body. Its extraordinary character, of course, I suspect to be an illusion brought about by my habituation to our modern way of life. To a prehistoric hunter-gatherer, tracking an animal must have felt like nothing out of the ordinary.

There are no saccades when following a swallow with your eyes, you are not reading a book or a spreadsheet. There is no unfocused stare over a static environment, your target is already on the move, you need not scan for it. The swallow teeters in place, locked in the middle of your field of view. The objects in the background bleed into each other and become, in your vision, what they cannot become in your ordinary life: a single unit. The shrubs and the concrete coalesce, swim up and down and swirl, like so many seaweeds brushing past the bird. It is all a vector field of springtime-colored streaks that changes magnitude and direction according to the swallow's will.

By way of some magic mechanism, some ancient mode of existence that the human mind must have enjoyed before the invention of clock-time, the swallow's flight fails to be reduced to a succession of images. It is, due to its immediacy and uninterrupted character, an integrated event without constituent parts. It's irreducible. It is a lapse in time. It exists in pure duration, if you so wished to drag Bergson into this whole thing. For as long as the swallow's flight lasts, it does not last. Or, to state the opposite and yet be correct, until it ends, it is endless. When I track a swallow's flight I experience the irrational and intensely pleasurable feeling that both me and her are currently immortal.

Due to a malignant overgrowth inside my cranial cage which some might term "a liberal education" (I have never gone to college, which embarrassingly makes this mental injury a self-inflicted one), due to this tumor, I say, exerting continuous pressure on my visual pathways, my vision has been blurry for as long as I can remember. I habitually see double — double not in space, mind you, but in time.

The sight of a swallow dashing over potholes nowadays is different. It is not itself but the double sight of a swallow of two years, two decades past, dead swallows performing the same maneuvers with the same expertise, arousing the same sensations in my body. The individuality of the event, through enough repetitions, through a sort of reflexive inductive reasoning one is never conscious of performing, is now annihilated, generalized to a principle of nature, a law in which any swallow might replace any other and, likewise, any observer is interchangeable with me.

I have lied. I am no longer in my own body when I watch the birds fly, and I feel nothing, nothing new, nothing arousing or alive. The present experience is clouded, overtaken, by a flock of remembrances, and life itself feels like a remembrance, as if the Meno truly was correct. It's a tired, played out act both me and the swallow must suffer through, all too aware of the platonic form both me and her must have, once, issued from, before time effaced us both, before the material imperfections which have accrued over the decades of my life reduced my present condition to one of abject numbness.

Clearly, time is the problem. Time weighs down on me terribly. I should not have stayed alive for as long as I have. I should have died when I was 17, as I once planned. Obviously, things turned out different. But nevermind that, tell me, do you figure for a second that this suffering is tenable? Will I bear it further? My life past poisons my life present and the only solution is a sort of self-murder not quite fitting of the label "suicide", a killing to all parts of me that are capable of being killed.

Have you considered doing it yourself? If you ever do, know that one does not simply "go down the road" here. It's a surgical procedure. You need a swallow's grace to cut the air around you. But, if you have not, tell me at least this: have you, in the course of your life, felt the urge to do it? To destroy yourself and be alive again? To have a paltry taste, once again, of that false sensation of immortality, the only one that any of us, stupid animals that we are, can harbor if we are to live in the first place?

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