#time to make a separate post. for nefarious reasons

[potato-lord-but-not]

John doing his best at being honest and Noel doing everything in his power to be as dishonest as possible, and he’s failing.

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap chapter 5 progress

In which Tim flirts with the sad thoughts but is not committed to them.

masterpost

Probably the best thing to do was to make sure everyone was happy with him. If he did everything that everybody wanted, there would be no issues. 

So, Tim finished his experiment for Miss Fox and sent her his report. The groceries arrived while he was finishing up. After he put it away, he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it one-handed while he looked up the address that Jason had told him about. 

“That's pretty far away,” Tim mused. Some grape jelly dropped onto the keyboard. He swiped it up with his sleeve. He was a little less careful about the apartment now that he knew it was Big Tim’s place and not someone important or mean. 

Huh.

Tim paused mid contemplation. Speaking of important people, where was Mom? (And also Dad.) He turned his head around looking for the most recent post card. He usually kept that on the fridge.

Apparently, Big Tim had lost the habit. The dig post card tacked to the fridge was years old. Tim took it down and read it anyway, smiling at Mom’s handwriting. It was neat and precise, just like her. 

He felt better. He'd figure it out later. Tim put a pin on the thought and went back to focusing on his- on Jason's request. He squirmed in his chair while he thought it through.

The address was in a residential neighborhood, the kind with separate houses and not apartment complexes. The suspect himself lived in a duplex. The other half of the duplex was registered to a retiree who Tim didn't find any digital trail of, other than that her Social security checks were being cashed and her bills were paid on time. Oh, neat, she had been part of Gotham’s historical recreation society. She seemed kinda cool.

She had crazy huge electric bills, though. Tim frowned at that. He wasn't absolutely sure. But he thought that most people didn't have electric bills in excess of $600 monthly. How was she even affording that off of her Social security income? 

“Maybe the neighbor killed her and is using her apartment for nefarious purposes,” Tim reasoned aloud. “He's chasing her check and concealing the death. Maybe he uses her apartment to store his industrial sausage making machines.” 

It was a bit of a reach but it seemed a little more likely than his follow-up idea: her hobby was running every appliance in her house at the same time for all the hours that she was awake.

Focus, Tim! How was he going to surveil this place?

It wasn’t like there were any nice big buildings with dramatic awnings and gargoyles to creep around. It was suburbia. 

Tim spun around on his chair miserably, hands on his head to help him think.

Were there any abandoned homes in the area that he could use as a viewpoint? He checked on that. No. No, there weren’t. Dangit. He looked up everyone who lived in the neighborhood, wondering if there might be like, a family on vacation or someone whose second floor was unoccupied. He didn’t see anything useful like that. There were just a bunch of families with little kids.

He spun faster. Maybe the centrifugal force would somehow jar his brain awake.

“There’s nothing for it,” Tim decided ruefully. “I have to go undercover as a child.”

He put on the light up sneakers that he had ordered, washed his face, and made sure he had enough money for the bus. Then he set off on an adventure with a little notepad in his pocket. When he got to the apartment lobby he realized that he probably should have brought Big Tim’s phone, but oh well. It was too far now.

He took three buses and walked twenty minutes. He arrived in the right neighborhood in the early evening, around 5 pm. He looked for rogue groups of playing kids to join in. He’d do whatever game they were playing, then subtly interrogate them.

Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone was inside eating dinner. Tim frowned at one window. He could see a table being set.

Weird.

Alright, new plan. The old lady neighbor was probably dead, so he could just sneak into her half of the duplex, find a place to hide, and observe whatever sick and twisted stuff Jason’s bad guy did. Then he could tell Jason about it later, and he would like Tim.

He tried the backdoor. It was locked. Tim skulked around the house and tried windows until he found one that was open. He had to scramble a bit to climb up the siding to get into the house but he managed it. He hit the floor with a tumble.

“I have a mace!” said a female voice. “I am prepared to use it upon you!”

Tim rolled over to see the retiree. “Oh,” he said. “Hello.” He was a little disappointed that he was wrong about her being dead, though of course it’s always nice when someone isn’t murdered.

Mrs. Henderson yanked open a drawer and withdrew her mace. She pointed it at him steadily over her walker.

“Whoa,” said Tim. “That’s really cool. That’s Gothic, right?”

She looked at her mace. “...I believe so,” she said. “Get out of my home!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Tim said, deliberately not agreeing. He sat up and crossed his legs. “I didn’t realize that you lived here.”

Mrs. Henderson slowly lowered her Gothic mace, which was probably a replica of one from Western Europe and weighed about 2 kilograms. “...Did you mean to go next door?” she said, sounding more confused and less hostile. 

“Yeah, I got mixed up,” Tim lied like a champion. “I accidentally locked myself out and no one is home.”

Although that really wouldn’t be true for much longer. Hm. Maybe Tim should have waited until tomorrow to come by.

[giggleeqween-but-not-so-gigglee]

ok so uh here u go, @pencilgutz @rigor-meowtis @gemorycave and @nefarious-nebula

i'm not like a 10 yo wattpad writer so forgib me for bad storytelling and/or english 😔✊️

ok so season 1 is the exact same EXCEPT in the beginning OJ tells Mephone to let him win. Mephone is like ok but it's gonna cost ya. a few minutes later and they decide on OJ's soul for the payment.

at the end of the season, Salt and Paper see how successful OJ is and are like "i need that money".

so they decide to try to seduce OJ

salt wins and they get married for ~10 years

during the first few is when OJ decides to build the hotel for everyone

then season 2 happens but in the beginning when OJ realizes that he didn't get in which means he can't win again, he starts to argue with Mephone

Mephone reminds him that he only sold his soul to win season 1, not 2

so OJ is like wtf and has an existential crisis when he realizes he will never get it back which means he probs won't get more money

during that crisis he realizes he wants a son to continue his legacy (he's sexist in this, bare with me). salt won't give him a son because she doesn't want any children so he divorces her.

then paper is like oh wait now i can get with OJ. so then they marry

a few years later, OJ is like ok lemme ask if he wants to adopt a son or smth

paper says no

they get in a huge fight and in that fight OJ started physically hitting paper so paper is reasonably like wtf

so paper starts telling people (one of those people being Pepper) so OJ gets angrier

he argues with paper again and then kills him because of anger

OJ is scared that he'll get caught so he (poorly) buries Paper's body in the woods (remember that for later)

next, OJ marries Pepper and she says yes bc she doesn't want to go missing like Paper (no one knows what happened to him but she's reasonably suspicious of OJ) and she says yes to a son

so they get a child and Pepper realizes she won't be able to do anything ab what Paper said so she writes a letter ab it and gives it to Salt secretly since they're still friends

OJ accidentally kills Pepper while they are arguing bc she's like made of glass and was also too scared to protect herself

next that one plotline in season 2 happens where like Taco and Microphone alliance

and since they're like in the forest sometimes they find Paper's body

before they can tell anyone, OJ sees them bc he was going to bury Pepper's body

they make a deal that OJ won't kill them too if he can marry one of them, Taco agrees hesitantly since she likes Microphone and Mic agrees instantly bc of fear

he picks Taco because she was in season 1 and he knows her already (there's more details but that would make this post way too long lol so lemme know if you want a separate post for Taco and Microphone)

one day, Taco decides to visit Salt to ask for advice since she married OJ for like 10 years

after a half hour or so of talking, Salt gives Taco the letter

Taco realizes she can't do anything ab it but still keeps it just in case

later, OJ divorces her since he realizes he's being pulled down famewise because of her and decides to marry Microphone and, despite her instead wanting to marry Knife (yes I ship them, its kinda like a love triangle for this au lol), she says yes anyway in fear of her own life

Taco gives Microphone the letter and she decides she's going to do something ab it

she tries many times to tell someone, but she gets too scared bc of what happened to Paper and Pepper, so she decides to kill him instead

i won't get into these details either since it would also make this post too long but she's only able to succeed after ~7 years

also season 2 gets canceled but i won't get into that in this post so lmk if u want to hear ab that+tacophone/kniphone (think that's the ship name)

[startrek-eridani]

Dr. David James Marcus, science officer and head of the science department

Son of the renowned scientist Carol Marcus and then Commander James T. Kirk, he was born in 2263 in Montréal, but later lived on various starbases and scientific outposts with his mother. Carol Marcus took the decision to raise her son on her own after her separation with Jim, before she even gave birth to David, as she found Kirk’s career to be incompatible with parenthood and feared that her son would follow in his footsteps and leave to explore the dangers of space.

David was homeschooled for his primary and secondary education, with tutoring in all the necessary fields by many of his mother’s colleagues. Considering this and the fact that they moved a lot for Carol’s research, David did not have many friends growing up. He went to college and completed a double major in xenobiology and astrophysics, before getting his doctorate in particle physics. He then joined his mother’s research team on Project Genesis. At this time of his life, he was very cautious of the military, believing Starfleet, while affiliated with the research of the Genesis Project, would attempt to steal and use the technology in nefarious ways.

His first meeting with his father James Kirk was a shock, but he quickly realised how alike they were, both determined, intelligent, caring yet stubborn men. Following the event on the Genesis planet, namely his death and revival, David suffered from many medical consequences due to the Genesis effect healing his body, yet causing nerve and muscle damage, which left him disabled. His symptoms are similar to epilepsy, migraines as well as mobility issues, which arise when standing up for extended periods, for example. He resorted, after his year long recovery on Vulcan, to use orthotics braces to facilitate his movements and prevent pain and mobility issues.

While still preoccupied by the possibility of corruption in any organisation, he decided after his recovery to pursue a career in Starfleet, to his mother’s dismay. Part of his reason for joining the fleet is a desire to do better with his wide scientific knowledge, mostly after how his impatience caused many deaths with project genesis. He still doesn’t always trust Starfleet, and also wants to use his presence in the fleet to prevent use of new technology in ill manners. As such, he is strict about protocols, as well as safety precautions in the science department he runs. Along with that, David’s upbringing among scientists and on various space stations did not allow him to make many friends, and his friendship and sibling bond with Saavik also motivated his career choice. His very sheltered life as a teen and young adult, on research labs and space stations, also awakened a desire to discover what’s out there, and to be on the front line of scientific discovery.

When he began the procedures to enter Starfleet Academy for for command, field science and space training, Saavik had to plead her case with the Admiralty, both because of his scientific fraud regarding the addition of proto-matter in the Genesis matrix, but mostly because most of the Admiralty believed his disability to be too great of a liability on a spaceship. That never deterred him, as he believed that he could achieve a space posting and was ready to put in the effort to achieve it.

In 2287, he became a part of the science team on the Enterprise-A, serving on his own father’s ship. This assignment allowed father and son to get closer, but David never got to build as strong a bond with Jim as the one he had with his mother. When Saavik was transferred from her post as helmsman of the Enterprise-A to the Eridani, he put in a request to join her. He was refused until 2291, when he joined Eridani’s science team as lieutenant.

He was outspoken, unafraid of telling what he believed, as well as quite stubborn. David was also very passionate about his many projects, and very enthusiastic about the new discoveries Eridani can make out in space.

By the time that Eridani departed for her five year mission in 2296, David was 33 years old, a lieutenant-commander and Saavik had named him her science officer and head of the science department. Despite Carol’s mistrust of Starfleet, she is very proud of her son’s achievements.

[aro-in-danyl]

HP X HH AU - Alastor is Harry Potter and Voldemort is his Shadow

I've got a whole concept idea for how Alastor time-traveled to early 1910s New Orleans and how he trapped Tom Riddle as his shadow- but that's a separate post entirely. This is about what happens if they get de-aged in Hell following their retreat from Adam. Because I want to see the Hazbin crew's reaction to Harry and Tom.

----

When Adam slashed him with his guitar, it purified both Alastor and his shadow to an age when they were still innocent.

Alastor, Harry, to age 11 -- moments before he'd disintegrated Quirrell to death.

Voldemort, Tom, to age 10 -- days before he led his fellow orphans into a cave to torture them.

They awaken in a crumbling radio tower covered in blood and a broken radio staff clutched in Harry's hands.

Tom, being raised Catholic and carrying all the trauma that comes with being able to talk to snakes from a young age, is the most terrified.

Harry still hopped up on the adrenaline of facing his parent's murderer from what he believes is only minutes before, manages to hear the creaking of the radio tower and get them out before it fully collapses.

They wander Hell and quickly come across various demons, all of which have nefarious intentions. They try to escape but even with magic there's only so much 2 human children can do against demons until-

"HEY!" Something hits the back of a hellhound's head, knocking him out and giving Harry the chance to run to stand in front of Tom.

They both look warily at their savior: a tall heavy-set demon with imp-like horns and bat-wings. In his hand was the broken guitar he'd used to smash over the hellhound's head. He looked angry.

"BITCH! You owe me a new guitar!"

----

Adam sees these kids and assumes they're the reason he's in hell. That he has to save them and then he can return to heaven - how else would 2 human children who reminded him of his own just happen to wander into his path?

So he takes them in and re-learns what it means to be a father responsible and care have empathy for his descendants. He meets other sinners who are not the worst and it makes him feel guilty confused.

For 3 months, he tries to find a way to get these 2 children back to the human world. They're both so bright and kind but absolutely fucking traumatized. He's going to have to find them better parents when he takes them back because they were under no circumstances going back to whoever they were with before.

Everyday he's with them, the kids open up just a bit more. What does it say about their homelives that they feel more comfortable in Hell living with what they think is a demon? They have so much potential like Abel and capacity for goodness like Cain before he-.

He tries -oh god how he fucking tries- to get them out of this hell-hole, but eventually he has to man up and ask for help.

HA! Sike. No, he obviously was supposed to demand Lucifer send them back. After all, it must've been his fuck-up that got these kids stuck here so it was his responsibility to fix it. Not Adam's!

Yeah that sounded right.

He marches up to the Hazbin Hotel with the kids behind him he wasn't scared shut up and knocks on the door.

----

Lucifer contacts Ozzie to open a portal.

Problem #1 The moment Harry touches the tear in realities, he hits a brick-wall. Or at least what feels like one. The portal is nothing more than a 2-way mirror for him. He can see but not cross-over.

Problem #2 Lucifer takes a closer look and realizes that their souls are already marked for Hell. But they're full of holy energy even after 3 months.

Adam refuses to believe this and demands to talk with Heaven.

Problem #3 ...No one has heard from Heaven since the failed Extermination.

----

Adam stays at the Hotel since it's safer for the kids cheaper than renting his overpriced studio apartment that smells like piss and cheese. Niffty fucking hates him though, he hurt her favorite bad boy! He's not dead she would feel it but he's gone again because of him!

Over the next 3 months, the kids grow. Not normally though, every time they make even a minor sin, they age rapidly before Adam's eyes. Sometimes he swears their nails seem claw-like, their teeth sharper when they smile, and their eyes seem to glow when he's looking out of the corner of his eye.

They eventually get in contact with Emily who first informs them that Sir Pentious was redeemed. She then takes a look at the kids with Lucifer. They discover that the children had been de-aged to a period of innocence due to the holy-light that had flooded them.

Lucifer tells Adam it was likely his holy-light wave that sliced the hotel in half that did the deed. They must've gotten caught too close to the blast-radius.

They hypothesize from their rapid age growth and behavior, that sinning will eventually revert the children back to their original demon forms.

And Adam-

Adam, for once in his immortal life, refuses to give up on his children.

[paganwitchisis]

Favorite Fanfiction

A lot of my friends kept getting messages asking them to name their own stories they wrote and rank a few based on which ones were there favorites. I figured I'd make my own post about it since I never was asked. You didn't ask for it but here it is lol :p

My favorite fanfiction I made is "What Love Can Change" and is my long fic worth 3 novels worth of words. The summary is here: Feeling ill one night, female Tav went out for air in Baldur’s Gate only to be kidnapped, beaten, and raped. After the incident, Astarion is out for blood and walks a fine line between supporting his significant other and tracking down the monster who did this to her. Consequences unfold from the altercation, and Tav ends up with child, changing the dynamic between Astarion and Tav. Will Astarion get vengeance for the woman who laid beaten in camp and will he stay with her when it is discovered she is with child? What will she do with the pregnancy? Additional situations unfold, and Astarion learns how love can change a person. Fluff and smut along with action and drama occur! Spawn Astarion x AFAB Female Tav. There is a lot of dark content in here in addition to excessive smut (but there is plot and a reason for the excessive smut). Dead Dove Don't Eat at times. Enjoy!!. Personally I hate the title of the series but what can I do about it :/ My second favorite fanfiction I created is "You're Mine". Here is the summary : This is a take on how Astarion feels and reacts when he watched the Bhaalspawn Tav fall to her father and get resurrected again. Anticipate emotions and a lot of smut. I felt there was an opportunity that the game missed when Tav died and her significant other didn't react. This was something more in line with what I think should have happened. My third is "The Price of Freedom" which is about: While on a separate quest, it is discovered that Tav is pregnant with Astarion’s child. Problem is, Cazador finds out as well. Things get pretty dark as Cazador abducts her along with Astarion, intent on nefarious purposes. Will the couple be able to heal from his onslaught and what of the child? Read and find out! (Heed the tags! This plays out differently than other Cazador dark fics). It is a very dark and very messed up fic but I got a chance to explore dark topics with a happy ending. The fourth is "His Real Family" and is about this: One day an elven woman shows up at the end of act 3, claiming to be Astarion’s betrothed from when they were young and he wasn't a vampire. Astarion doesn’t believe it. Tav is already pregnant with his child and Astarion has no intention of leaving Tav. What happens when this woman won’t take no for an answer and things arent as they seem? Things become intense! Read and find out! I loved having Astarion mess with the young woman claiming to be his betrothed and I loved showing what happens to those who mess with his family. I won't keep going as I wrote 14 fanfics and have 4 WIPs in progress along with 32 ideas to be started. All are either proofread or are going to be proofread by my AWESOME and PHENOMENAL proof reader @alyssac9 who is really, really good at proof reading and the English language :) Do any of you have any favorites I wrote? What do you guys think of my list?

[mrheymister]

Snippet Sunday (except I'm posting on Saturday lol)

Currently messing with an Arthur-centric companion piece to "Among the Wolves" for my Blood and Circumstance series. I love Isaac, but we're taking a wee break from him for now. Rotating the Blorbos keeps them fresh.

It's nice posting a long, finished chapter and seeing the response. But that can take me weeks, and the work and writing that goes into it can be lonely without someone to share the process with. I'm hoping that by posting weekly WIP checks here, I can have more fun with the process. So please feel free to drop your thoughts!

Working title for this one is "My Sins Keep Howling After Me". By the time it goes up on Ao3 it'll be this big multi-part affair, leading us through Arthur's early life and relationships all the way to the events of "Among the Wolves". For now though, have a lil 3.5k words baby Arthur with his Momma. TW animal death, child abuse, parental death.

It's been said among mothers and midwives that a child who comes into the world quietly is special, though the reasoning why is up for some debate. Some would argue that a child who does not cry is weak and not long for the world. Others say an infant is silent when they know their destiny, and are content with it. Others still insist that an infant's cry is a ward against evil spirits and other nefarious actors, and that one who fails to cry will be dogged by misery and loss all their life.

Arthur Morgan is born on a bitterly cold night in January of 1863. He does not cry. Instead, his mother holds him close to her breast and weeps for him. 

-

It is April of 1865. The Confederate Army has just surrendered. All throughout the southern United States, newly freed slaves spread the word across the plantations. They raise their arms to the sky to thank the lord. Some leave the plantations in search of lost family. Others kill a boar, or a turkey, or their former master. The liquor pours freely and they drink and dance and feast the night away. 

Several states away, Arthur Morgan is oblivious to their joy. He is two years old and he has yet to see any of the world away from his mother's side. They're out in the yard of their one-room shack, enjoying the breeze of one of the first warm days after a long winter. It is not the first such shack they've lived in during his short life, and it will not be the last.

His mother hums a tuneless song as she flits across the grass, stooping every now and then to collect a couple wildflowers or throw away a broken branch. The breeze tickles what flyaway strands of brown hair aren't secured in her heavy bun. Her face is young and open, almost glowing in the late morning sun, and she can't help but smile everytime she turns around to check on her boy sitting sullenly in the grass, pulling at the blades with his fat little fists. He smiles too, when she catches his eye. He only smiles for her.

-

It is July of 1866. Arthur is three years old, and while he knows he loves Momma, he's not quite sure what to make of Daddy. 

Momma loves talking to him, answering his many questions like why is the sky blue? She sings him songs and tells him stories. She always gives him the best bits of food, and on the days where there's no food, she rubs a hand over his belly to soothe the ache of his hunger.

Arthur always sleeps tucked against Momma, on the floor more often than not, but sometimes they get a roll or a blanket and every once in a while, a bed. Having a bed makes Momma very happy, but Arthur doesn't like it so much. It's too soft and squishy, and when he's falling asleep it feels like he's just falling. 

Daddy doesn't talk to him much. A lot of the time it seems to Arthur like Daddy'd rather not be there at all. Arthur doesn't understand why, and it makes him sad. He sleeps separate from them. Usually, whenever there's a bed, Daddy takes it, and leaves Momma and him on the floor.

Sometimes the three of them go into town together, with Arthur's hand held fast in Momma’s and Daddy trailing some ways behind. Once, he saw another boy with his Momma and Daddy, except the boy's Momma and Daddy both held his hands as he skipped through the street. Arthur watched them for a bit, and then turned to hold his hand out for his Daddy to hold, except Daddy just sneered at him and spit on the ground around his cigarette. Arthur hung his head as Momma gathered him closer.

He can be nice, though, sometimes, rarely. Once, he'd woken to find his back cold. Momma was gone. So Arthur crawled to his feet to find her. He heard laughing outside, so he peeked his head out the door. Momma and Daddy were outside in the grass, all wrapped up together shuffling their feet. Dancing, he realized. He wanted to dance too, so he climbed down the steps and started shuffling his feet next to them. When they saw him, Momma laughed, and Daddy picked him up and put him on his shoulders, and they all just kept dancing, the three of them. Daddy smelled funny. Bitter. The smell of him burned Arthur's nose, but he smiled anyway.

Other times, Daddy comes home mad, real mad. He'll slam through the door and start yelling at Momma, and Momma will start yelling right back, and then they're gathering their things to go find some new shack to live in.

-

It is September of 1867. Arthur is four years old, though he's nearly five. Momma hasn't been feeling very well lately. Last few weeks she's just been more tired, more pale, more thin, more quiet. She'll cook dinner but she doesn't smile like she used to when Arthur eats. Daddy's been giving her the bed more and more, and she's been spending more and more time in it. 

Arthur wants to help, but he doesn't know how, and it frustrates him. Daddy says the best thing is to just leave her to her rest, but even Arthur can't miss the way his brow pinches as he says it, how his shoulders stay hunched as he leans over his folded hands to watch her sleep. 

But Arthur has an idea. He's found a pretty bunny rabbit outside in the bushes, friendly and still as can be. Its fur is soft and cool as he strokes his hands over it. Momma loves telling him stories about bunnies and birds and turtles. Maybe holding the rabbit will make her happy again, the way it's making Arthur happy now.

It kind of smells funny, though. Terrible, actually. However soft its fur is, Arthur doesn't think Momma will appreciate the smell. He wonders if his new friend will mind if he gives it a bath. He asks the rabbit, and it's big, glassy eyes don't even twitch, so he hefts it up and starts trudging his way back to the shack, set on finding the laundry bucket.

Daddy's sat on the steps, smoking a cigarette, though he throws it away and stomps over when he sees Arthur lugging the rabbit.

“What're you doin’ with that thing, boy?” he demands.

Arthur blinks up at him, confused by the anger in his voice. He holds out the rabbit for Daddy to see.

“I made a friend!” he explains proudly. “I was gonna show him to Momma, but he needs a bath first.”

Before he can even blink, the rabbit is wrenched out of his hands. Daddy stands tall over him, holding the rabbit by its feet out of his reach, a disgusted look on his face

“No!” Arthur cries. “Give‘im back!”

Daddy flings the rabbit away. Arthur watches with tears in his eyes as the rabbit sails across the yard before landing somewhere unseen beyond the trees. He balls his little hands into fists as he turns back towards daddy.

“What’d you do that for!” he yells, stomping his foot. “He was gonna make momma happy!”

Daddy gives him a long look. When he doesn't answer, Arthur turns around to go retrieve the rabbit, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“That thing is dead, boy,” Daddy growls unkindly. “Don't be bringin’ no dead rotten shit into my house.”

Arthur turns back once more, his eyes wide and wet and curious as he blinks up at Daddy's shadowed figure.

“Dead?” He echoes. “What's dead?”

“The rabbit is, you fool boy, ain't you listenin’ to me?” Daddy snarls, voice going even meaner.

Arthur looks over his shoulder to where Daddy threw the rabbit. He doesn't understand. He doesn't think Daddy understands, either.

“Why's he dead?” He tries again. “Why's dead bad?”

Daddy blows a long breath and shakes his head.

“Dead is… it's like sleepin’” he explains impatiently. “‘Cept you don't wake up no more.”

“But Bunny wasn't sleepin’!” Arthur insists, still not understanding. “His eyes was open! You threw him away and he's not dead!”

“Was he breathin’?” Daddy asks. 

That makes Arthur pause. He'd been rubbing the rabbit's fur. The rabbit was soft and cool and still. Was he breathing? He knows how Momma breathes when she sleeps next to him. He hears it. He feels it. The rabbit was still. The rabbit didn't move.

“No…” he answers uncertainly. 

“Well there you have it,” Daddy says matter-of-factly. “Dead thing's ain't breathe or move. They're dead. And they stay that way. You leave ‘em alone.”

With that he stomps away, leaving Arthur to stare first at his empty hands and then for a while longer at where the rabbit disappeared, some dark and dreadful understanding slowly clicking into place.

He does not sleep well that night, huddled by himself on the floor while Mommy and Daddy share the bed. He keeps trying to hold his breath, because dead things don't breathe and he's trying to understand dead, but then his chest starts to hurt and he can't hold it anymore and he blows it out and sucks in another breath after that to try again. 

He can hear Daddy’s snoring, Momma’s wheezing. Used to be that Momma never wheezed, but Arthur takes comfort in it, knowing that as long as he can hear her, that means she's still breathing, and that means she's not dead, so she won't get tossed out like the rabbit.

-

One morning in November 1867, Arthur wakes up to silence. Daddy had gone to town the day before. He said he was going to find medicine, but he never came back that night, so Arthur crawled into the bed to sleep with Momma while they waited.

Daylight pours into their tiny shack through the single window by the door, weak and feeble, but enough to wake the boy. A cold breeze ruffles the thin, moth-eaten curtain hanging from it. The birds do not sing, making the silence left in the absence of Momma’s comforting wheezing even louder. He shifts under the scrap of blanket, turning to face Momma.

Her eyes are closed, sunken, and she is still. Arthur raises a small hand to her cheek. Her tanned skin is even paler than he's used to seeing lately. Even her cracked lips, parted slightly as they are, have a blueish tint to them. She is cool to the touch.

“Momma,” Arthur whispers, then again, louder, when she doesn't stir. 

He smacks her cheek with his palm, feeling at once sorry and desperate as he does so. Something isn't right.

“Momma!” he tries, over and over. He smacks her face, then starts pulling her hair. “Momma, wake up!”

Momma doesn't move. Momma doesn't breathe. Arthur doesn't understand.

Some time later, after Arthur's exhausted himself crying and pleading, he hears the heavy thuds of Daddy's boots on the porch steps, hears the creak of the door opening. He lifts his head from where he'd nestled against her chest.

“Daddy,” he calls miserably once he sees him, tears flowing anew. “Somethings's wrong with Momma.”

Daddy cocks his head at him, dumps his bag on the table by the door and hurries over. He crouches by the bed, shooing Arthur away with his hand to get a better look. Arthur hesitates to move at first, but then he goes, knowing Daddy can probably help better than him.

Daddy takes Momma’s face between his two big hands. He tilts her head back, then leans his head in so his ear is just under his nose. Daddy holds there a moment, closes his eyes and swallows hard before pulling away. He moves one of his hands down so it caresses her throat, his thumb resting just below her jaw. For a while, he does nothing, just sits there, looking at her. And then–

“Oh, Bea,” he says quietly, ducking his head as he withdraws his hands.

“What is it?” Arthur demands in his small voice. “What's wrong?”

“She's dead,” Daddy grinds out between gritted teeth. “Been that way for a few hours now.”

Hearing the word dead makes Arthur shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the morning chill. He scoots closer to Momma and throws an arm around her middle before laying his head on her chest. Just last night, he'd done the same thing, letting the motions of her breathing and the beating of her heart carry him off to sleep. Only now she is still and silent and cold.

“Dead?” He asks plaintively. “Like the bunny rabbit?”

Daddy raises his head to look at him, confusion playing across his face before an understanding lights in his dull eyes.

“Yeah,” he says flatly. “like the damn rabbit.”

Arthur bites his trembling lip and turns his face to hide in Momma's blouse. He holds her tighter and sniffles around the sob that threatens to choke him. If Momma’s dead like the rabbit was dead, does that mean Daddy's gonna throw her away like he threw the rabbit away? Arthur won't let him.

He can't see Daddy anymore from where he's got his face pressed against Momma. He can hear him though, just standing there, breathing all heavy. After a while he hears his footsteps retreating across the room and out the open door, and another while after that, a stranger sound, like a hiss and then a thud, over and over again.

At length, Arthur detangles himself from Momma and the blanket to creep across the room and peer out the open door. Daddy stands at the edge of the yard, right where the trees meet the open space. Near where he threw the rabbit just a few weeks ago. He's holding a shovel, stooped over a hole he's digging, the mound of dirt next to him getting taller and taller. 

What're you making holes for? Arthur wants to demand. Momma's dead and you're out playin’! We gotta help Momma not be dead!

But when he sees that Daddy's face is wet, he pauses. Arthur doesn't think he's ever seen Daddy cry. Didn't think crying was something Daddy or other men did. He thought, once he got big, that the tears would just stop coming at all. He brings a hand to his face to feel the wet splotches left on his cheeks by his own tears, and then he goes back inside to climb back into bed with Momma.

He lays down facing her. He tries to hold her hand, but her fingers feel all cold and stiff and wrong, so he settles for patting her head instead.

“It's okay, Momma,” he says, shifting to kiss her temple.

Arthur remembers how he got sick last winter, just after he turned four. It was awful, but Momma was always there. When he felt like he was burning on the inside and freezing on the outside, Momma would stroke his hair and kiss his head and tell him everything was okay, just like this, and then he would feel a little better. He doesn't know if he's helping her the same way. She still doesn't move, still doesn't breathe, but he hopes it helps, even if it's just the teeniest tiniest bit. 

He's still petting her head when Daddy comes back in, eyes red and forearms coated in black dirt. Arthur lifts his head to look at him and wrinkles his nose. Momma doesn't like them bringing dirt in the house. If she were awake, she'd be yelling at him to wash up, but she's not, and Arthur knows better than to try and scold Daddy.

“Arthur,” Daddy barks, pointing at his feet “C’mere.”

Daddy only calls him by name when he's real mad. Arthur cringes, snuggling deeper into Momma’s side. Momma doesn't like Daddy yelling at him either. Arthur wishes she'd quit being dead so she could tell him to stop.

Daddy growls under his breath and makes for the bed. Arthur tenses, clings to the blanket, but it does him no good as Daddy gets his hands under his armpits and none too gently tosses him to the floor. Arthur throws out his hands to break his fall, then cries out in pain as the rough wooden planks scrape his knees and dig splinters into his palms. He sits there on the floor and sniffles, watching the blood well up in his palms before looking back up at Daddy.

“What're you doin’ to Momma?” he gasps.

Daddy's moved her so she's laying flat on her back. Carefully, with a gentleness that is wholly unfamiliar to Arthur, he crosses her arms over her chest before he sets about wrapping her up in the blanket. Arthur manages to get one last look at her face, her features still slack and peaceful, before Daddy's throwing the blanket over her head, tucking the edges around her sides. He seems to hesitate for a moment, then, before he lowers himself to one knee to press his forehead against hers, murmuring something that's too low for Arthur to catch.

Arthur doesn't know why, but something about it alights a panic in him. He hurries to his feet, rushing to fruitlessly beat his fists against Daddy's thigh.

“Stop it!” He yells. “You said t’let her rest! Leave her alone!”

He does not anticipate the back of Daddy's hand striking across his face. The force of it knocks him back onto his side, his eyes watering anew around the burning imprint on his cheek. He presses his own hand to it, gaping back up at Daddy, mouth slack with hurt and fear. Daddy just draws himself back up to his full height to glare down at him, breathing heavy. His face is still wet.

“She is restin’” Daddy says lowly. “Say your goodbye.”

Goodbye?

“Wh-what d’you mean?” Arthur blubbers. “Goodbye? Where’re we goin’? We ain't leavin’ Momma!”

Daddy just shakes his head and turns around to heft up Momma in his arms, still all wrapped up in the faded yellow blanket. He takes a moment to adjust her head so it rests against his shoulder, then without a second glance at Arthur, he starts walking towards the door. 

Arthur watches dumbly as he disappears past the threshold, then he's dragging himself upright to follow, leaning against the doorway to watch.

Daddy's crossing the yard. He’s headed for the big hole he dug. When he gets there, he stops. He just stares at the hole. And then he's kneeling, carefully tucking his feet under him while being careful not to drop Momma. He leans over the hole. He gently lowers her into the earth.

“No!” Arthur wails, rushing forward. 

He knew Daddy would do this. He's throwing Momma away just like he did the rabbit. Arthur can't let him. He has to stop him.

“Momma!” he cries.

He'll jump down into the hole and pull her out. He'll push Daddy down there instead, see how he likes it. And then he'll stay with Momma till she gets better and they can leave Daddy in the hole so he can think about what he's done, and then everything will be okay. 

Except Daddy catches him by the collar before he can fling himself into the hole. He hauls him back and pushes him away, but Arthur won't give up that easy. He can't let Daddy do this to Momma. He won't.

He gets back on his feet and makes to try again, except this time, Daddy whirls around and hits him in the face again, harder than he ever has. Arthur reels back, seeing nothing but white for a moment, feels something hot running down his forehead into his eyes. Suddenly the world is swimming around him. He can't get his feet under him. 

“Goddamnit, boy, she's dead!” Daddy shouts. His voice rings and echoes in Arthur's ears “Don't you understand!? Dead! There's no more helpin’ her now!”

Arthur whimpers and curls up on the ground, tucking his head between his arms. Daddy grumbles something Arthur can't make out. Arthur just squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like he's gonna throw up.

The feeling subsides after a few minutes. The world gradually rights itself. From where Arthur's laying on the ground, he can hear that same hiss thud from earlier. He opens his eyes. Daddy's shoveling the dirt back into the hole, right on top of Momma. He's burying her. Arthur feels like he's gonna be sick all over again.

“No,” he whines, powerless to stop Daddy, though he pleads anyway. “No, Momma, please.”

She's dead, don't you understand? Dead!

Arthur doesn't understand. Or rather, he's unwilling to understand. He stretches a hand out towards the hole, hoping with everything that he can hold hers just one last time.

[witchcraftandgeeknes]

Gift

Just a silly little fluffy story, Mikaelsons celebrating winter holiday. As I don't celebrate Christmas and it's way too late for it anyway, it's not specified which holiday it takes place in. You can think of whichever you celebrate yourself.

Dedicated to: @fitzs-trained-monkey who persuaded me to post it despite this fic being silly and my English being bad. Love you, marshmallow

Word count: 1900 approximately

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Elijah rarely received any gifts.

This might be connected to complicated family bonds, or maybe to the fact that mostly his family was separated by a cold steel of a dagger plunged in someone's chest or their father making them fly in separate ways to avoid him catching any of them. Because of the latter, infinity of things that were precious to their hearts were indiscriminately left in the race against Mikael: their beloved ones, favourite places in the world, many houses they were foolish enough to declare their permanent homes, and tremendous amount of belongings that limited time or need made them leave behind.

That way or another, Elijah rarely received gifts from anyone, including his siblings. But when he did, Elijah treasured each and every of small mementos in his heart if he cannot garner all of them in his current adobe. The most rare name on the gift boxes Elijah saw was Kol's.

To say that they didn't see eye to eye on thing would be an understatement of a century. Kol was vicious and was fond of all the nefarious activities that repelled Elijah. Despite everything, Elijah loved Kol, and small signs of his little brother's affection were just as dear to his heart as ones from Niklaus or Rebekah.

Nevertheless, Elijah must admit that the gift was quite... puzzling, to put it best. It was not like Kol completely missed with his guess, Elijah always adored a pristine atlas tie as a gift but.. The colours.

Indeed, the colours were of quite peculiar choice. His newest tie was made of excellent quality and smooth texture, but the black-and-yellow stripes.... Though Kol's everyday attire was much different from Elijah's, the youngest Mikaelson's sense of fashion was never questioned. Keeping that in mind, it was hard to explain how on Earth he might have chose such a tie to give as a genuine present.

Maybe Kol's mischievous nature is involved in this case, or perhaps a huge difference in their styles. Whichever it is, Elijah could not hurt his brother's feelings. Absolutely not and especially not now, when their home finally finessed the most cordial atmosphere in many centuries. Obviously, this... tie is not to be worn on an official visit or in a wide public. Home celebrations in a close family circle, on the other hand, Elijah could bear. Even such a bright, bright yellow tie with evidently contrasting ink-black stripes.

He and Kol had reached temporal understanding and there is no saying how long peace will last, and as long as it does, Elijah shall do anything to keep it this way. Even if that means to step on the common fashion senses. After all, it is without a doubt not the worst thing he had to endure for the sake of his siblings` wellbeing. Elijah had to admit, that even so odd, the gift elated him.

***

*an hour earlier*

Kol loves Harry Potter books. Reading them made him feel a very special kind of way – as if for a few hours of devoted reading he traveled back in time, to the period of it that he was still alive and human and full of mischievous energy that danced in his veins, asking for permission to break free and promising a lot of fun.

And when Klaus announced that they will all together celebrate impending winter holiday, Kol decided to choose the gifts for that day based on his own little obsession. Why the hell not? Klaus gave them all a lot of art throughout their lives, ignoring the fact that Kol, for example, could not care less about anything connected to it.

Regardless of his reasoning, Kol heard they say that it's the attention that matters, and not the gift itself. If that's true, it means that Kol's choice was splendid. Or at least so he thought.

As an official expert on this matter, Kol was the only one capable of sorting his dear relatives into their respective houses of Hogwarts school. That was probably stupid, Kol knew that. But these silly decisions he took with whole seriousness he could muster.

Klaus, undoubtedly, was the one hell of a Slytherin. Kol doubted any explanation was required for this choice, but if one would need it, he contemplated it with all details elaborated in this mental essay (deep down, he actually wished that someone would ask and he would get to explain his decision, even thought it's unlikely). Therefore, Kol packed a pair of green socks with a  prominent snake emblem for dearly beloved Nik, and attached short note that conveyed his hopes that dear brother will abstain from chewing his gift during full moons – Kol wrote this with a huge grin. One day he will pay for all those dog jokes. Today is not this day. Kol was fairly sure that killing (or daggering, for that matter) family members is officially against holiday traditions.

For Rebekah, his favourite sibling, and his fellow fan of magical world, Kol prepared the whole suit of Gryffindor uniform. Her warm smile and hug and possibly a thank-you kiss planted on his cheek will be worth all the collecting and packing he went through for this.

Elijah was the hardest one. Firstly, Kol was postponing choosing the gift for Elijah till last moment, and when he finally did select Elijah in his corresponding Hogwarts house (Hufflepuff, as Kol deduced), packed it in a box and wrapped it in a paper decorated with images of dozens Rudolfs, he couldn't bring himself to actually put it under a tree like all the other gifts.

It was silly, after all. And Elijah never approves of silly things. The elder brother was always dead serious and restrained, the perfect image of the head of the family. More of a father figure than a sibling like Nik and Bekah. And while Kol could act silly and joke around with the latter, Elijah seemed unaffected by their ideas of fun.

But what's the alternative, anyway? Thanks to procrastinating, it's the big day today, and there's literally no time to think of something more serious or appropriate. Damn it.

It seems like he has to do it no matter how ludicrous this gift is.

To avoid embarrassment, Kol decided to put the gift box near Elijah's bedroom door. At least this way he doesn't have to witness big brother's dissapointment. Again. Nevermind. What happens happens. It's too late to change his mind.

Kol rushed away to avoid getting caught as if he did something wrong. Perhaps the life of mischiefmaker made him a bit paranoied. Like Nik. What a nightmare.

***

*later*

Kol has to say. The only reason he let Rebekah do this to him was a bribe. The bribe was a box full of chocolate and other candies. At least, it was good enough of a reason at first thought. Kol now doubts his decision. Perhaps it was a bad impulse.

"Ouch!"

"Hush, sit still," Rebekah hisses at him from the couch while braiding his hair in tenth tiny braid. Kol shifted at her legs unhappily and pouting.

Klaus tried to muffle his cackling but failed miserably.

"You never looked better in your life, Kol."

Kol sent the remote control flying across the room and it hit Nik in the forehead.

"HEY!"

"At least I don't have a stupid ass sweater with chihuahua!"

Klaus blushed, embarassed. The poor idiot lost a bet with Rebekah (and to place bets with Rebekah was always rather risky activity) and was forced into this sweater. Maybe Kol won't be the number one target for dog jokes as soon as holiday is over after all.

"Shut up, both of you," their sister chided and tugged Kol's hair especially roughly. If that's what she had to endure each day Mother was braiding her hair then maybe he was too harsh on her all that time.

Kol relaxed and pressed his back to her legs, surrendering to his cruel fate. Until...

"Well, at least it's not as dumb as your Ravenclaw sweater," Klaus said, a minute too late with his comeback.

"You take that bac– AW, BEKAH!" Sister dearest hit him with the Dickens book across his head when Kol abruptly tried to stand up. "That was uncalled for!"

"I told you to sit still," she said, tugging him down on the floor by the hem of his beautiful Ravenclaw sweater. "And I told you to shut up, Nik. Elijah! Tell them!"

To the brothers' surprise, Elijah chuckled from the threshold. Neither of them noticed how the eldest brother entered. He was in his suit, like always. Kol resumed to his place on the floor and let Rebekah continue her work.

"Gentlemen, behave," Elijah commanded and made his way to the table and took one mandarin.

"Can you be nice to each other at least at a family holiday, mhm?" Elijah didn't stop berating them even as he proceed to peel mandarin. "You look wonderful today, Rebekah."

"Thank you, 'Lijah!"

He was right, Rebekah looked like she's posing for the holiday edition of some fashionable magazine. What can't be said about Klaus and Kol himself.

"Why, brother, you look quite dashing yourself. Where did you get your tie, on a masquarade?" Klaus laughed. Kol looked up at Elijah. He didn't notice at first, but Elijah wore his gift. The Hufflepuff tie looked out of place on Elijah, like Kol predicted. His stomach sank.

"Thank you for your insight, Niklaus," Elijah said, glaring at the middle brother sternly. Then he looked down, and straightened his already perfectly fastened tie. "In fact, I quite like your gift, Kol. It's probably my favourite this year."

Kol felt his cheeks getting hot. He rarely heard nice words from his family and it felt... very strange but he loved the feeling.

"Really?" Kol muttered under his breath. Elijah smiled at him.

"Of course. Thank you for this, I'll wear it whenever an opportunity presents itself, like today. Now, does anybody want hot chocolate?"

Kol and Rebekah didn't let him finish the sentence and agreed immeadiately and loudly, and when Elijah matter-of-factly asked if Klaus wants a cup too, the hybrid rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he didn't refuse the offer either.

"He looks stupid though," Klaus whispered quitely so Elijah's ear won't catch it but loud enough for his younger siblings to hear. Kol snorted. Klaus was petty and didn't like the fact that Elijah scolded him but complimented Kol's gift.

He didn't notice how Rebekah finished braiding his hair – Kol couldn't imagine how much he looked like a hedgehog right now – and suddenly leaned down and hugged Kol by his neck.

"You're the best brother, Kol. You're my favourite, you know."

"You tell that to each of us, don't you?" Kol rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a smile spreading across his face. He loved his family with all his heart. Even grumpy Nik. The idea of being his only sister's favourite brother was quite amusing too.

From the kitchen Elijah announced that their hot chocolate with marshmallows is ready and waiting for them.

Rebekah was the first to get on her feet.

"Race you!" and just like that, Rebekah sped up towards kitchen. Kol and Klaus didn't have to be asked twice and they swiftly followed her.

From the kitchen, Elijah's voice could be heard: "Oh come on, you all, how old are you, ten?"

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

You made it that far? Good job, I guess

[polwigle]

ok so I've been rotating Pikmin 4 in my brain for the last month or so and I think I've figured out something about the post-game! it's essay time :)

(under read-more for both inherent spoilers and length, bc hoooo boy this got out of hand. no spoilers for anything past the early post-game though!)

So the main reason for the post-game happening in the first place is because Oatchi, who for some reason sprouted a leaf on his tail on the way to Hero's Hideaway, gets sick as soon as the Rescue Corps tries to leave the planet. The same thing happened to Moss when Olimar tried to leave earlier. Seems like everyone who got Leafed™ is stuck on PNF-404 unless they can get de-leafed, for reasons unknown to anyone in-universe.

But I think I figured out what's going on, and it's not some nefarious plot to get the Pikmin a permanent leader. (Not the 'can't leave the planet' thing, anyway. I don't claim to know how Oatchi got Leafed™ in the first place.) In this essay I will attempt to prove that plants can't breathe in space.

Let's start by looking at some canon facts:

Lemma 1: Aliens Can't Breathe on Earth

PNF-404 is clearly Earth, at an unspecified point in the future (though I believe it to be relatively recent, as detailed in my last essay[1]).

PNF-404's atmosphere is rich in oxygen. Assuming the planet's atmosphere hasn't changed substantially from the Earth we know, approximately 21% of the air is oxygen[2].

[Data source linked in image: https://nssdc.gsfc.nasa.gov/planetary/factsheet/earthfact.html]

Oxygen is known to be poisonous to Hocotatians, as stated numerous times through the series.

While Koppaites technically can breathe some oxygen, PNF-404 has three times as much oxygen in its atmosphere than Koppai does[3], so Koppaites still need spacesuits to survive on PNF-404.

It is unknown how natives of other planets handle oxygen, but Collin describes it as poisonous, so it appears at least Giyans(?) cannot breathe oxygen. (As Koppaites are also distinguishable by their rounded ears, I suspect oxygen may be poisonous to all pointy-eared castaways.)

Leaflings, regardless of their planet of origin and contrary to the Rescue Corps' expectations, can breathe in PNF-404's oxygenated atmosphere just fine without helmets. (There's a tangent here I could write a separate essay on, but that's for later.)

Oatchi does not wear a helmet, and can apparently breathe just fine on PNF-404 even before his spontaneous leafification. (This could also lead into its own essay, but suffice to say, his species' origins are unknown in-universe. He was born on Giya, but presumably did not evolve there.)

So basically, if you are a small alien in this world, unless you are a plant or perhaps a dog, you do not want to be exposed to oxygen. Especially not the high concentrations of oxygen on PNF-404.

With that established, we now need to consider real-world biology for a second. There's one more thing to note that isn't discussed in-universe:

Lemma 2: Plants Can Breathe on Earth

Plants need oxygen to live! Not to "breathe" per se, that's not an accurate word for something that doesn't have lungs, but for "aerobic respiration", which at a cellular level is at least one reason why things with lungs breathe, so, close enough for this context.

Plants make their own oxygen while they're photosynthesizing. But when they don't have the light they need to photosynthesize (at night or in other darkness), they take in oxygen from around them to respire with[2][4][5].

In the context of Pikmin biology, Blue Pikmin in particular are described as "breathing" multiple times, usually in the context of breathing underwater. One log from the US version of Pikmin 3 even has Brittany say they're "extracting oxygen from the water"[6]. The equivalent European localization just says they're breathing, but they do seem to be specifically taking in oxygen in the process.

In summary, though oxygen is lethal to the core cast of castaways, the plant life on PNF-404, Pikmin included, can't live without it!

Thesis: Plants Can't Breathe in Space

We know oxygen is poisonous to both Olimar and most of the Rescue Corps, with the exception of Oatchi. Therefore, they would not want it inside their spaceships! Meaning the air inside the S.S. Shepherd (and S.S. Dolphin) would contain only trace amounts of oxygen, if any at all, during space flight.

Plant life from PNF-404, including Pikmin and adjacent leafy creatures, need oxygen to breathe. They only make their own while photosynthesizing, which requires plenty of light. But space is dark. Most of the light inside the S.S. Shepherd is from distant stars outside and the glowing antennae of helmets. (The cargo hold Moss was in may have been even darker.) That's probably not enough light to photosynthesize…

The leafy space dogs can't leave the planet because every vehicle that tried to take them away from the planet was devoid of oxygen.

He's suffocating!! ;A;

Counterpoint: Can Aliens Breathe in Space?

Of course, one thing doesn't immediately line up with my conclusion… Even while Oatchi is theoretically suffocating aboard the S.S. Shepherd, everyone else is still wearing helmets, implying there's too much oxygen around them to safely remove them.

There's probably still some oxygen in the ship — not enough for Oatchi to breathe, but too much for anyone else to breathe. Filtering air doesn't happen instantaneously! And given the severe state of disrepair the S.S. Shepherd was in at the start of the game, being completely out of power, the air filtration systems would have also been shut down. So oxygenated air from PNF-404 was in the ship when they took off, and was in the process of being filtered out as they flew off.

Oatchi's 'symptoms stabilizing' when the S.S. Shepherd stopped flying away might seem to suggest there's something more specifically binding him to the planet… Or the air filtration process might have paused while the ship is stalled, to conserve precious Sparklium energy.

TL;DR: Leafy space-sickness isn't some nefarious Pikmin plot. Plants just can't breathe in space. It's not a feature, it's a bug.

References:

[1] Continental Drift vs Pikmin Lore (my first tumblr essay): https://polwigle.tumblr.com/post/657518379437064192/polwigle-polwigle-in-light-of-the-release-and [2] Needs of Plants: https://letstalkscience.ca/educational-resources/backgrounders/needs-plants [3] Koppai (cite note 3): https://www.pikminwiki.com/Koppai#cite_note-3 [4] Oxygen For Plants – Can Plants Live Without Oxygen: https://www.gardeningknowhow.com/garden-how-to/info/can-plants-live-without-oxygen.htm (also source of atmosphere pie chart image) [5] Do Plants Need Oxygen? What Oxygen is Used For & Why: https://flourishingplants.com/do-plants-need-oxygen/ (also source of How Plants Use Oxygen image) [6] Pikmin 3 Voyage Log (Blue Pikmin): https://www.pikminwiki.com/Pikmin_3_voyage_log#Blue_Pikmin

[time-variance-archive]

A heartfelt tribute to Victor Timely

I know if you follow me on main you've probably already read enough posts about Victor Timely, but he's my favourite character from S2, and I love him very very much, okay ^^.

I will soon make a separate post about my impressions on S2 (it's complicated), but despite certain disappointments, this season managed to subvert a few of my fears and I'm happy with that.

As you might know, I was on the "burn the TVA to the ground" team, so I am not totally satisfied by the finale, but things could have been a lot worse.

One of my biggest fear for this season was the implications of Kang as the big bad.

Season 1 was all about free will and poeple being more than the role assigned to them by society. The very concept of Kang as The Enemy makes me uncomfortable because it implies the existance of a whole type of poeple inherently dangerous and evil by nature.

During the finale, HWR implied the existance of "benevolent" versions of himself, but as long as we don't see them in person, their existance is at best downplayed to justify the anhiliation of a whole group of poeple based on their time aura. Really icky...

But S2 made sure to tell the audience Kang variants are not inherently evil. They are human beings and they have as much free will as any other type of Variants.

Humanizing Kang

The first time we see Victor on screen, he is introduced as a child. And innocent little boy minding his own business until the TVA disturbs the course of his existance (not unlike Sylvie...).

And this is so important.

Compare this to the way Victor is introduced in Quantumania.

A mysterious man emerging from the shadows like a cheap horror movie's villain. Victor doesn't do anything bad, but he is framed as a menace.

S2 recontextualizes Victor as a human being. A little boy who grew up in poverty and worked hard to make himself a better life. And also, ultimately, a victim of the TVA.

But Victor Timely is much more than a simple plot device to remind the audience that "not all Kangs are bad" or serve Sylvie's arc. He is his own character with (in my very subjective opinion) one of the best arcs of the season.

Victor's ambivalence

When we first see him in 1893, he is introduced as an ambivalent figure. Is he a genius inventor ? A complete sham ? Maybe a bit of both ?

And this ambivalence is what makes him so great as a character. Should we trust him ? He's a Kang after all. But he's just a funny little guy and he seems so innocent.

His relationship with Ravonna is the perfect exemple of this ambivalence. His schoolboy crush on her is adorable. Is it reciprocated ? Maybe a little bit ? Ravonna isn't insensitive to Victor's quirkiness.

But ultimately, he betrays her in a brutal and cowardly way.

Once at the TVA, we discover another side of Victor's personality. He is very curious about all the futuristic technology, especially because he thinks he is the one who invented everything. And once again, there an ambivalence. Thinking he created all of this, Victor shows his big ego, but there is no malice in it. He doesn't asks what the TVA is or what they do, he's just running around excitedly and marvels at the coffee machine.

And yet, his capture by Ravonna makes the audience doubt again. Will Victor betray Loki and his team to save his own life ? To be completely fair, even if he did, he would still not be completely wrong. From his perspective, both Ravonna and Loki are strangers who want to use him for obcure reasons, and he has no reason to trust any of them. But he still choses to side with Loki, wasting her time until the rescue comes.

And when it's time to get into serious action, he willingly choses to put his life on the line to save the multiverse.

Poeple are determined by the choices they make

In the end, what makes Victor such a great character for me isn't what makes him different from Kang, but what makes them alike.

Like his more nefarious Variants, Victor is a loner who doesn't do partnerships, he is ambitious and has a big ego. But those traits are not inherently bad.

He has very valid reasons to not trust easily, and in the hindsight, betraying Ravonna was the right thing to do. His ambition has mostly been used for good (and a bit of mischief), and there is nothing wrong with being confident and proud of one's achievement as long as we respect others.

During this season, Victor had plenty of possibilities to seize power at the TVA, but he kept making the best decisions, sometimes for selfish reasons, sometimes for heroic ones. And yet, we can ask ourselves what would have happened if Miss Minutes had not sabotaged his budding relationship with Ravonna.

Is Victor inherently a good man ? Or could he have made the same mistakes that sent his variants on the path of war ? Both HWR and Quantumania Kangs see themselves as the hero and think they are fighting to save the multiverse from their Variants. Maybe the fatal flaws of Kangs are their deep sense of insecurity and self loathing.

I'm disapointed we didn't see what happens to him after the events of S2, but since his name appears on the new TVA Handbook, we can assume he stayed in the new TVA with the poeple he learned to trust.

[baishouqijia]

✧ ―   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍. relationships with the other harbingers.

pierro. of course, everyone has their own reason for joining the tsaritsa's cohort of harbingers. to pantalone, none other than pierro have a more valid reason to bite back at celestia. whilst pantalone does not care for members of authority, he does believe in pierro's leadership and thus happily works under his guidance.

il capitano. pantalone thinks he is hypocritical ― a warped sense of justice, that ends in bloodshed regardless. of course, he is not averse to violent methods but at least come by it honestly, no need to dress it up under morals and chivalry. is he about to say this to his ... face? absolutely not, but he will make a snide remark here and there.

il dottore. as someone who respects intellect, dottore is high up in pantalone's estimations. it's a symbiotic relationship ― dottore comes up with the ideas, and pantalone pays for them to come to fruition. it was actually haeresys that caught his interest first; pantalone just made it profitable by making it a show for the wealthy. and thus their partnership was born. with enough money, any ethical concerns just because a small fine at the end of expenses. they work separately day to day, but reconvene privately to discuss 'business' matters.

columbina. the less time he spends alone in her company, the better. they don't particularly have much to say to one another ― a compliment on her singing here and there, but this is where their pleasantries end. he would do anything to avoid her laced gaze after hearing the rumours of what she's capable of.

arlecchino. their methods clash more than anything ― pantalone preferring to control from the shadows, whilst arlecchino values field work, perhaps due to her involvement of training recruits. pantalone often signs off on the orphanage's expenses and so they only really cross paths for professional reasons. still, he enjoys her theatrical displays and overlooks most rumours regarding her flaky commitment to the tsaritsa. everyone has their reasons, right?

pulcinella. if pantalone learned his diplomacy tricks from anyone, its pulcinella. the mayor has a way of disarming others, all the while pulling the strings for more nefarious acts. through pulcinella, pantalone learned that money talks much louder with the political power to back it up. that, and pulcinella is about the only one willing to listen to his ideas at great length . . .

scaramouche. who? pre-wipe, pantalone disliked scaramouche. terrible team skills, always bickering with his fellow harbingers, and never showed up when invited. ironically, scaramouche would have received his most sincere responses when they spoke, as pantalone did not even care to dress up his words with civilities ― he didn't like him and didn't bother to hide it.

sandrone. pantalone often requests sandrone to fix up his pocket watches, which gives him opportunity to quiz her on her creations. whereas most would probably avoid her workshop due to her 'poor' attitude, he finds her straight forward. he doesn't care much for machinery however he does care about what it can be used for. that said, he does avoid getting too close to her automaton ― it once malfunctioned at one of their banquets and broke the chandelier...

la signora. pantalone respects signora's work ethic and her methods. her death is a great loss to the harbingers, and whilst they weren't on close terms, they were certainly amicable. prior to her passing, he could have listened to her tales from the akademiya for hours and on a more personal level, thought she was rather striking. needless to say, signora's death reminded him of his own mortality.

tartaglia. ah, his scratching post. for years pantalone was the lowest harbinger ― a glorified bank administrator ― and now he gets to order another harbinger about. he spends a lot of time teasing childe: e.g. sending him on pointless trips to check on the northland bank, likely with vague instructions just to see what he does out there. whilst he thinks tartaglia is too blood-thirsty and would call him dense in a heartbeat, he actually quite likes him.

[slotumn]

How to you think the Ashen Wolves works?

I assume this is in context of my "Ashen Wolves as the Church's black ops team" so

A black ops squadron for Church/Knights (or any other faction for that matter) is not new, but it's not a single continuous organization because they were basically formed/assigned and dissolved or even abandoned as needed, and obviously there aren't public records left about them (not above ground, at least). Operations like those have always been associated with the Abyss however, for obvious reasons

Ashen Wolves are the latest iteration, formed after the latest assassination threat on Rhea from a few years pre-canon. More specifically, the Ashen Wolves as an institution in the Abyss was already there, but around 1178~79 it became the latest black ops force when Yuri agreed to work for Rhea to keep an eye on Aelfric

I say Church but in reality Rhea is the only one who has full knowledge of who/what the Ashen Wolves are and contacts them personally. That's always been the case for secret operations and operatives— only very few and very high up figures know about them

Both before the Ashen Wolves and now, the primary target of the Church's black ops are the Central Church's own members, other regional churches, or anyone with suspected Agarthan connections, but if nobles/officials of the three nations get involved with church affairs/Agarthans, then they can become targets too. In practice this means they do kill more than a few nobles/officials and do end up effecting national politics directly or indirectly because this is not a world that has separation of church and state + the Agarthans have been going around contacting power hungry nobles for a while

Their (both Ashen Wolves' and previous black ops squadrons') main method is to track and kill individual targets before they cause problems and make it look like an unrelated accident; Yuri's criminal connections and Hapi's sigh are very useful here, ex: oops they died in a bandit/monster attack

The caveat is that all this covert operation isn't effective if the problem is bigger than just a few individuals independently plotting nefarious things, ex: not only is Western Church hijacked by Agarthans/extremist on an institutional level, the rulers and even chunks of civilian population are sympathetic to the extremist rhetoric they peddle

Speaking of Western Church, their accusation of Central Church/Knights being behind the Tragedy of Duscur is related to the intra-church black ops and is semi-based on the truth. At the time, there were agents from the Central Church spying on the Western Church + Kingdom nobles involved with the Western Church, who found out about the Duscur conspiracy as a result. However said agents were 1. not behind the Duscur conspiracy itself and 2. got sniffed out and killed by Western Church first before they could do anything about it (but whatever they tried wouldn't have been that effective anyway, because again the problem ran much further and deeper)

Another caveat is that while the black ops are, again, black ops and never officially acknowledged by the Central Church, after 1000 years of it some particularly observant people do Notice™ some Patterns™, and will prepare countermeasures. But hey that's how all this intelligence/counterintelligence stuff goes

In my Garreg Mach Militaverse, the direct command and info about Ashen Wolves are handed to Byleth by Rhea before the battle of Garreg Mach; and considering that Byleth's army post-ts grow their forces through underhanded means, the Ashen Wolves come in exceptionally handy here

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #27: About Why Inkscape Is My Best Friend (Aside From Krita) [VERY Techy] 🎨

Before I begin today's tale about how Lothar The Nefarious is doing, I must make a small note: I, indeed, did some work on "Time & Again", but within the last week, I was mostly busy doing a TTRPG character sheet commission for a very good friend of mine. Truth be told, I pretty much never do commissions. I don't think I can ever live off art commissions. I don't like them, usually. Most of the time I pretty much hate them. This is why I have a day job: so that I don't have to worry about commissions and deadlines, and so that I could actually enjoy doing whatever I want with my art. But there might be exceptions sometimes. That was one of them. And it actually allowed me to learn more interesting and useful tricks in Inkscape to further improve my happiness with my favourite vectorscape software 🤗. But that's beside the point right now; we'll get to that shortly.

So far, the road to completion of Chapter 6 of "Time & Again" looks this way:

The writing and the script - ✔done (long ago)!

The storyboard (drawn with a pencil on paper) - ✔done!

The Vector Stage (panels arrangement for every page according to the storyboard in Inkscape) - ✔done!

The Lineart Stage (drawing everything in black and white as it will appear in the final release) - gonna be working on it right now!

The Colouring Stage (colouring the lineart for the final release)

The Post-Production Stage (cleaning up everything, perfecting the speech bubbles, SFXs, and polishing everything squeaky clean for the actual release)

And as promised in the previous post, I'll tell you more about how the work on The Vector Stage is going for me as I work on my visual stories. With Chapter 6 of "Time & Again" now, it was pretty typical and without hiccups.

But first - an important intermission. I wanted to be extra prepared for the future and decided to add bleed directly to my Inkscape documents. I remember trying to do the same earlier sometime, but it didn't get anywhere for some reason - must be, because I ran out of my steam of persistency. Why? - I don't know. Because it actually proved to be SUPER easy.

I opened one of the older pages from Chapter 5 and expanded it manually, placing a placeholder (what else do you think placeholders are for?! for placing, of course!!!) of the bleed area underneath the layers (needless to say, I made that placeholder in Krita). But instead of having a placeholder on every page, I wanted to have a thin outline of the bleed area, if possible. And it was, indeed, possible.

Page Tool allows you to set margins and/or bleed in a matter of a few clicks:

I think those screenshots are self-explanatory. As soon as you input your desired numbers (was defaulted to millimetres for me), very thin outlines appear right on the canvas to guide you: margins are outlines in blue, and bleed in red. Interestingly, if you're a fan of pixel math - just as I am - you can easily input your numbers in pixels, just remember to exchange mm with px as you type, for example: 100px instead of 100mm. And it will work. It will convert your pixel value into mm:

It might be a small thing, but I sure am fairly impressed!!! 😍 And I love it how simple and useful it is.

I believe, I never showed how I normally work in Inkscape. So here's the introduction. I make a document for each page and save it as a separate SVG. Just a few days ago I finally got to try out the multipage SVG feature as I worked on the character sheet - but in case with "Time & Again" and its severly overgrown Chapter 6 that will have 56 pages in total, I don't think that would've been useful to me. Useful to overwhelm me - yes, but not actually useful for work. As the work on each page starts, create 3 layers: one for the panel outlines, one for the speech bubbles, and one for the text. I look at my hand drawn layout of the page and try to reproduce it in Inkscape as close to my sketch/storyboard as possible. I open Inkscape on the right hand side of the screen, while my document with all the finalized voice lines of the characters goes to the left side. It might look confusing and messy (especially if the script is written in a weird way and with a lot of visual descriptors - such is the case with Chapter 6), but to me it's actually a wonderful, very ergonomic workspace organization.

(of course, I have edited out all the stuff you don't need to see yet - and Lothar's swearing. He's always swearing. You can easily identify which voice lines belong to Lothar simply judging by the amount of cuss in them 🤣)

I manually copy-paste every single line of text into my vector document, and then I rearrange them, change the font size, text alignment within the text box (which is, in 99% of the cases, center-aligned), etc. Then, depending on the circumstances and what I'm planning on doing, I might create speech bubbles on a separate layer as well - but for Chapter 6 so far I haven't done that.

"Halt!" exclaim you. "Why do you input text lines right away? Doesn't it make more sense to put them in after all the art is done?" Well apparently not for me. Contrary to what seems to be logical, I put all the text lines on my vector page layouts right away, during The Vector Stage, very early on. Before working on lineart. Because I need points of references for my art arrangements. Later on, the text boxes might be rearranged, scrambled, and shuffled yet again, and quite possibly not once. But I need to see the full picture with the text right away to see what I must tweak or, in worst case scenario, scrap completely. The latter doesn't happen VERY often though. That said, this regular way of work organization might be a moot point for Chapter 6. Chapter 6 is going to be soooo incredibly convoluted and unique (comparing to the previous chapters) in the way what it does with words and sentences that I might need to copy-paste all the text all over again later on. But again, let's hope it's not gonna happen 😁.

... And that's is all! Once all the vector work is done, I simply export all the 3 elements into the subfolder with the page number (I'll remind you once again: Inkscape now supports batch export of layers natively, because back then I actually had to do it all manually, turning the layers off and on repeatedly... I don't miss those days one bit 😱). I just gotta make sure I export everything with the right DPI.

Previously, when all the vector work was done, I used to export all the layers in PNG format to use in Krita later. This time though I tried to experiment with the vector workspace in Krita directly. It's important to mention that Krita is a software that's designed to work with raster images, not the vector objects - although it supports vectors, too. But of course that goes without a doubt that Inkscape IS the software to go when it comes down to an extensive vector work. Krita has only limited functionality and compatibility with vector thingamajigs... I must admit, Krita dev team did a simply AMAZING job throughout the years improving the functionality of the native vector tools. However, with my requirements, it's still not enough. Normally, I have to switch from Inkscape to Krita and back numerous times as I work on my pages of the graphic narrative. The true solution is the following: I need a unified Krita + Inkscape workspace!!! 😍 Especially when it comes down to text, for I like certain features that are available in one but not in another. Generally speaking, I always go Inkscape for everything vector including text, because it's just so simple and FAST to use. But Krita has a very valuable feature to make any font/text italic, which must be based off some global offset. Any font that does not have italic style can be italicized in Krita, but not in Inkscape. Back when I didn't have an italic version of my own comic font - Frosty's Comic Font - trying to italicize separate chunks of the text where needed was A NIGHTMARE. I am so happy got to finally complete my work on Frosty' Comic Font Italic. Now I don't have to rewrite certain parts of text in Krita just because Krita can italicize anything 🤣 Phew! (more in-depth about how I make my fonts you can read in one of my previous posts here)

But alas, nothing of this kind exists in the world, just as AI-powered smart tools to automatically recognize and flood fill the characters with proper colours... yet. But I'm happy, and I'll take what I could get now - all to move forward in the development of the grandest project of my artistic life. And nevertheless, even with that in mind, I wanted to try to see how I could create "an illusion" of a Krita + Inkscape Fusion workspace through, perhaps, trying to import SVG objects right onto my Krita canvases. To see what happens. And so far my experience has been... interesting and enriching 🙃

So, as for intercompatibility between Krita and Inkscape goes, let me illustrate something.

In Krita, you can import an SVG file into your KRA file, and the vector objects are actually gonna be interactable. As you can see on the screenshot above, the panel outlines - which are simple rectangles with a stroke of a specific thickness and colour - work fine and look as intended. However, the text boxes are cut off. I have read about the possible incompatibility between Krita and Inkscape text objects. People wrote about some weird behaviours on Krita forum. Supposedly there's a plugin for Inkscape called InkSync (link from Krita forum here) that is designed to help improve text compatibility between the two programs - but alas, after playing with it so far, I, unfortunately, was not able to produce any useful result. Inkscape allows for an automatic text wrapping inside the text box (which I use all the time) - a feature that Krita does not support. I assume that might be a reason as of why the parts of text are being cut off, because if the text only occupies a single line, then it seems to be totally fine with Krita. I was able to prove that as I worked on the character sheet. And because I really need these very nice and advanced text editing tools from Inkscape for my project, then Inkscape is going to be my software of choice for now. I'll keep importing my text in PNG format to Krita for now - when it's complex.

Aside from that, Krita vector tools are very useful and quite identical to those in Inkscape. I was able to neatly group and spread the numbers on my character sheet totally hassle-free. Which I am very happy about. That was a total success. Because the numbers and writings were short 😁

Another one nifty feature in Inkscape that I found thanks to a random post on the forum is how to split an object into a few equal parts... Using interpolation. "Wait," sayeth thou, "but that kind of functionality is, like, the basic stuff!" And right you are. Surely, it's easy to split an object in two only using Align & Distribute and Division functionality, because THAT is the basics... But when you need more than 2 with extreme precision... then you're in a pickle. The solution I provided a link to above that uses the interpolation tactic is super simple, fool-proof and incredibly useful. The screenshots below illustrate that.

Within the last few days I also added proper bleed areas to the page templates that were higher quality, namely the title page and bonus materials backgrounds, and the intro/flavour text page. Surprisingly, it took me significantly less time than anticipated. I've also completed 3 out of 4 inner cover designs. The most succulent - and disturbing - one is kept for later, just as a dessert. Yeeeegh... I can feel shivers running down my spine just thinking about that artwork (at times, I wonder what happens if I get to work on a horror videogame that I would not be able to handle mentally by myself... For some reason, all of my videogame ideas have at least a few horror elements in them. And I wonder sometimes if I'd have to hire somebody else to do the scariest art for my own game, LOL). The main cover arts are pretty much ready to go, too; I only wanted to add some wee tiny detail for some extra chic 🐤, although it's not really needed.

Everything looks quite good so far :). Moving on! And see you next time! 👋

P.S. Even though it's that time of the year again, and you would think I should be playing something like that now (which I have downloaded already), or something like that (which I still have yet to buy), or perhaps simply replaying the absolutely explosively gorgeous DBK Holiday Special that I beat last year and had a blast like never before🧨 - I don't exactly feel like it just yet. Instead, Unhinged 2 extended demo is on the top of my list of Christmas inspirations. I was a bit late to the Halloween release, so I'm trying to ketchup catch up now. Well right on, then. I'm super eager to relive it all over again. I hope I finally get to water that dying hand tree. I̸͚t͌͒̈́͢ f͙ȩ̺͛͟͞e̫̫̲͆͢l̨͖̭̙̓̽ͧs̩̈́ l̺͔̎̾̂i̶̖̠̪̳͆̈́k̡͎͙̄͗e͐ͨ̏̈ͫ̕ h̭̣o̴̷͉̎͝ṃ̾̉ͭ̊ě͉͓̟̎͠.̠̀̓ͭ Oh ya! And I'm seriously planning on trying to play The Sky May Be. Like, for real. "Why?!" you ask. Because I'm curious and very open to ridiculousness. I hope I figure out how to get it running on my PC 😁

[UPD 11/14/2024]: Sssssooooo I played The Sky May Be... I was not able to beat it legitimately, but the Blessed Engine was sure amusing 😁 It was definitely remarkable for its time.

[xxdoubledaisyxx]

People made of Story are not the product of the creator who imagined them or developed them. That's because a person is an ancient concept that has developed from all of human civilization cooperating, fighting, falling in love, and everthing else. All of humanity in the past contributes to what makes a person in the present, and no creator can claim credit as the author of that past. It is right and just that people create fan art, fan fiction, and express the reality of people of Story as they experience the Truth of their existence.

However, that is not done with the same authority as the creators who imagined and developed those people with storytelling and hard work. So, the official and unofficial expressions of popular storytelling should never be in conflict. This is important because it keeps the franchise of the story in order and free from disruption by outsiders. They can always express what they want, but the official authority of that Story--as identified *in writing with legal clarity*-- is the only one who can make definitive expressions about that story franchise. That is important. People like me enjoy fan art like this, but we do not enjoy it as much as the official story, and I'm sure that goes for everyone. This is one of those things good people inherently understand without saying, but then some nefarious evil-doer tries to exploit that unspoken agreement and respect and it becomes a problem until it is clarified and criminals separated out.

Although it may sound boring and trite to involve the reality of legal paperwork with the fantastic and amazing realms of the Storyverse, it is necessary for a reason, because only the Storyverse is in total harmony with real life as spiritual reality. Being spiritual reality and not real life, the Storyverse is govered by different laws and forces of creation that are imagined at any time. No matter how different the reality of story may be, there is one universal law that applies to the entire Storyverse and the real life natural universe we all live, love, and die in: Good is loved, evil is reviled. Always.

If evil escapes Hell, it is cast back into Hell by the good and they know very well why! Only in Hell(etc.) a realm within the Storyverse, isolated from everywhere else for the benefit of evil and good alike, is where evil is allowed and celebrated, and that's why we enjoy horror, dramatic plots, violence, and more as a harmless expression in real life to enjoy as we create expressions of evil to adore and glorify. Evil is very real and serious in the Storyverse with the powers of limitless imagination available, but evil in Story does not pass into real life. Not only does that require the existence passing through to match the natural laws of the universe of real life perfectly, but the universal law prevents the passage of evil from ever happening, even if all else was the same. That line between Story and Reality is real life death and passage into the afterlife/from the Storyverse.

This post is more theological than I intended, but it helps explain why "Story persons" are independent beings unto their own authority even if they do not have bodies in real life because of the kind of beings they are the reality they enjoy in Story. You don't have to take my word for it either, because a lot of fiction writers will tell you that some characters create themselves and writing about them is like being pulled along and having to work hard to keep up.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Alternate Lore 21 - Abezithibod and Heinrik

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Related: Ellen the Wayward

Master Post - Patreon

There are many great and powerful demons that reside in Inferno. Some are well known while others have their own story yet to be seen by Man. Abezithibod and Heinrik Rofocale are two noteworthy demons who have an extensive history with Earth. While the two are disparate, they have both left their mark on the realm of humans. Both deserve to be commended for their actions and deeds, regardless of the antics they got up to when they were young.

- - Abezithibod - -

Heaven to Inferno

Abezithibod (sometimes preferring the pseudonym of “Abe”) is the son of the demon Beelzebub. In the time before the angel rebellions, Beelzebub was an archangel in Heaven. For reasons that were his own, he would eventually leave Heaven for Inferno where he would become the demon Beelzebub. His son, Ameleouth, would wake up one day to find his father was missing. Shocked by this, the young angel would run out looking for his father. 

Despite the other archangels warning him not to seek his father, Ameleouth ignored their warnings and kept running. Before he realized it, the angel had left Heaven and found himself in Inferno. Naturally he was lost and confused when his father found him. Beelzebub was sad and disappointed, questioning why his son would do something so brazen. It was simple as Ameleouth did not want to be separated from his father. Despite Beelzebub's anger caused by Heaven, he had a moment of happiness knowing that his son still loved him and would be there for him no matter what.

Ameleouth (now going by Abezithibod) took some time to adjust to Inferno as it was a lot different from Heaven. Something of interest was the fact that the two could easily interact with humans. Beelzebub was busy making all sorts of nefarious deals with Humans, of which the latter left an impression on Abezithibod. Humans were such a fascinating thing to him. Why even bother going to a lesser realm when Heaven and Inferno were so much better? 

Even stranger, there seemed to be a lot of Earth Spirits that did not originate from Heaven running around. They were tricking a fair amount of humans into thinking they were mighty entities when in reality they were beneath even the lowest imp in Inferno. Abezithibod would later learn that these low evolved spirits were subject to the demon king's Asmodeus and Corniger. This provoked Abezithibod’s curiosity even further. Were humans that unintelligent to the point where they were so easily tricked by these malignant spirits?

Meeting Raguel

Eventually the rowdy demon decided he would pay Earth a visit. Abezithibod promptly got into trouble interfering with quests, tricking heroes into going down the wrong paths, and harassing all sorts of rulers. Given that this took place not too long after The Rampage Wars, A handful of the denizens of Inferno were growing concerned about Abezithibod and his ilk. All of this would attract the attention of an up and coming angel named Raguel. This angel was working on becoming an archangel and one of his tasks was to either stop or subdue Abezithibod.

Confronting the demon was not easy, as Abezithibod was not the diplomatic type and clashed with Raguel many times over the years. Things would eventually change when Abezithibod came to respect Raguel's persistence and dedication, however. Abezithibod got to a point where he felt comfortable telling Raguel his original name and gave him permission to use it (the only other people being his father and Adonai, at the time). Raguel further got to a point where he could sit down and talk with Abezithibod. He would use this opportunity to propose a more useful application of the demon's talents.

Getting involved in Egypt

Egypt was in turmoil as Set, Sobek, and Sekhmet were running amok and causing havoc. They were whispering the wrong words into the ears of the Pharaohs, causing all sorts of chaos. Wars internal and external raged everywhere. It is believed Set formulated these plans as a means of spitting Osiris. Horus and Anubis had been trying for ages to stop this to little success. After failing to recruit Ra to help them, Horus contacted the Archangel Michael and asked for assistance. 

At first, Michael went to the Spiritus Magni, who were too busy to get involved. He then went to Raguel, since the angel was making a name for himself. Michael figured this would be a good test of his mettle. Raguel’s idea was to beat Set at his own game by having Abezithibod whisper in the ear of specific pharaohs. Ramses II was the main target, as getting the Hebrews to rebel and leave Egypt would create a big enough distraction for Horus and Anubis to confront Set and his cohorts.

Raguel’s plan was a success. Abezithibod knew what to say to prompt Ramses II into making the wrong decisions. He could have just told Ramses to treat the Hebrews better, but that would have potentially aroused suspicion with Set. Abezithibod would further trick the Pharaoh into chasing Moses and the Hebrews across the red sea. One thing Abezithibod would not mention to Ramses II was that Adonai was not going to keep the red sea parted forever. Abezithibod needed to maintain the ruse after all.

To make sure Set did not pull anything funny, Abezithibod would keep Ramses II and his soldiers sealed away at the bottom of the red sea, partially as a favor for Raguel. Abezithibod was well aware of the naivete of humans. They all sat around for some time and grew fairly bored, as was inevitable. Abezithibod would then begin talking to the Egyptians he had sealed away, pondering what had brought them there and philosophizing on the nature of the Cosmos. Ramses II and his soldiers would eventually reach enlightenment, forgive Abezithibod, and pass on to the afterlife.

King Solomon

After a good amount of time had passed, a curious ruler would come to visit Abezithibod. This was King Solomon, who was accompanied by the demons Ornias and Ephippas. Solomon had a proposition for Abezithibod: The demon would help in the building of Solomon's temple and would be granted the honor of being a part of his kingdom. All Abezithibod had to do was hold up a pillar of Solomon's palace. While a fairly one sided deal, Abezithibod’s pride would not let him say no as it was such a simple task. He was also bored out of his mind. 

The great palace of King Solomon was truly a sight to behold, but Abezithibod was starting to question his decision to help King Solomon in the first place. Was being a stone decoration really what he was cut out for? Furthermore, King Solomon was not a perfect ruler, falling victim to the vices that naturally plagued man. Eventually Solomon would pass and the temple experienced great strife over the ages. After decades and centuries of the temple being ransacked, Abezithibod eventually abandoned his post, leading to what remained of the temple finally collapsing. 

Raguel (now an Archangel) noticed Abezithibod was lingering around where the palace once stood and asked him why he was still there. He was no longer obligated by Solomon and Heaven declared him redeemed after he had helped out with Egypt. The entire experience with Solomon had finally tempered Abezithibod and he was a lot more level headed at this point. Raguel was quite impressed with Abezithibod’s progress and commended him for his growth.

Meeting Ellen The Wayward

It was the 12th century and Abezithibod needed something to do. Raguel had someone in mind who Abezithibod could help and would point him in the direction of a wandering Irish woman named Ellen. Abezithibod seemed apprehensive at first, so Raguel appealed to his pride. Surely the great Abezithibod could not only accomplish this simple task, but excel at it! Of course the demon knew he was being buttered up, but he did not care. He just wanted something interesting to do. 

Ellen the Wayward was always looking for students to educate, people to help, and knowledge to learn. This attitude led to Abezithibod taking a liking to Ellen. He still did not truly understand humans, but Ellen made him realize that some were trying to advance and be productive at the very least. In truth she reminded him of Raguel from so long ago. 

Eventually Ellen had a child with Lucifuge Rofocale. The child’s name was Heinrik and Abezithibod took a liking to him. He was rambunctious, full of energy, and had a fire in his eyes. It reminded Abezithibod of himself when he was young. He would see the child as a nephew, stopping by Lucifuge’s estate to check on Heinrik and see how they were doing. To Lucifuge’s chagrin, Heinrik would always be on his best behavior when Abezithibod was around, a courtesy he rarely got.

Abezithibod in Modern Times

In the modern era, Abezithibod goes about his own business, not bothering anyone. While the days of toying with mortals was fun, he realized that people in general do not appreciate it. Still a proud demon, he now knows to keep his pride in check. Despite being quiet most of the time, he will gladly speak up when he needs to. As an aside, Ellen still keeps in touch with Abezithibod and the two hang out with each other whenever they can.

Abezithibod can usually be seen riding his motorcycle around Inferno and visiting various clubs, bars, and pizza joints. He loves to travel and see the sights, widely believed to be because he spent ages at the bottom of a sea, holding up a pillar. Some will be on the lookout for him and buy him a drink whenever he is in town. Abezithibod certainly deserves one after all of the things he has been through.

Despite being seven feet tall and usually having his tail out, Abezithibod is very unassuming. Typically it is hard to discern that he is Beelzebub’s son unless asked. Humans who have ventured to Inferno (usually intoxicated) often like to pick fights with Abezithibod until he inevitably knocks them on their bottoms. One thing Abezithibod loves to do while out and about is Karaoke. His preferred music to sing is rock and hard rock songs from Earth during the 1970s and 1980s.

Some things to note about Abezithibod:

It is advised not to call him “Abezi” or by his real name. The former is incredibly annoying and permission is needed for the latter.

Abezithibod’s demeanor is deceptive, often hiding how powerful he truly is.

Abezithibod has a high tolerance for Alcohol, making him undefeatable in drinking contests. Of course he frowns at the modern state of brewing on Earth as alcoholic beverages were more sacred in antiquity.

Abezithibod prefers cigars and thinks cigarettes are pathetic trash. He lights his Cigars with either his thumb or his tail. Abezithibod is also utterly appalled at the modern tobacco industry of Earth.

To this day Abezithibod is still good friends with Raguel. While he still considers himself a demon, Raguel fully views him as an angel, regardless of where he resides. 

Abezithibod is fully aware of the Unlight. It is an interesting realm, but he is anxious about going to it. Realms like Reality Errors, Overflow Realms, and IGL zones make his head spin, causing him to be leery of visiting irrational and irregular realms.

- - Heinrik Rofocale - -

Heinrik’s Childhood

Heinrik is the child of Lucifuge Rofocale and Ellen the Wayward, with Lucifuge taking responsibility for Heinrik. Raising the young demon was not easy for Lucifuge given his duties to the governing bodies of Inferno. Heinrik was a rowdy tornado of a child that loved to mess with everyone, especially his father. This ranged from Pranks, rearranging stuff, refusing to go to bed, and loud music. 

Lucifuge had his own ways of dealing with Heinrik: Time outs, threatening not to get certain toys for him, and even asking him to perform his talents and hobbies in front of his co-workers. When all else failed, Lucifuge would call Ellen and have her show up. This worked no matter what as Heinrik respected and loved his mother. And despite his antics, Heinrik did express the same feelings towards his father. When Lucifuge would be having a bad day, Heinrik would go up to him and give him a hug or help him clean his office.

School was relatively normal for Heinrik, barring the fact that other students picked on him for his rather short tail and stone hands. He received names like “Rocky,” “Stone-hands McGee,” and “short tail.” These schoolyard shenanigans, combined with his rowdy nature, led him to skip frequently. School was too boring and he did not like being picked on.

Meeting the Pari’s

One day while he was skipping, Heinrik went wandering through the woods near his school. He eventually stumbled across a well dressed woman named Gabriella Pari. The up and coming explorer was back in Inferno on break, albeit she had not announced this. Heinrik saw her practicing her magic and thought she was pretty cool. At first he was secretly watching the angel, but he eventually gave it away that he was there. Gabriella did not mind, but quickly picked up on the fact that Heinrik was skipping. After talking with him for a bit, Gabriella realized Heinrik needed special schooling. She then had the idea to see what her mother was up to.

Going forward, Heinrik would be tutored by Valentina Pari. Lucifuge was okay with this, for the most part. He really wanted the boy to go to normal school, but Gabriella put forth a convincing argument for why her mother was ideal for tutoring the boy. Over the course of his private schooling, Heinrik would start creating his signature black flame ability as time went on and became good friends with Gabriella and her family.

Heinrik’s Teen Years

Reading about Rome and Atlantis was probably the last thing Heinrik should have done during his teen years. He quickly had dreams of being a proud warrior, with glory and honor to his name. Given the exploits of his Uncle Abezithibod he had heard about, there was no stopping Heinrik. After taking on a human form, he set out for Earth during the 20th century. Heinrik would come to regret most of this decision in hindsight.

The Great War was in full swing and Heinrik was not sure which side to join given how complicated the conflict was to him. Fortunately a handy reality walker going by the name of Infinity just so happened to be in the neighborhood and suggested he join the Americans. During World War II, Heinrik cared less about slaying his enemies and was more concerned about protecting civilians. World War I had messed with him and his perception of being a mighty warrior.

Naturally Heinrik ran into his mother while out on the battlefields of Europe and she was not pleased about this. Heinrik was definitely grounded when he finally returned to Inferno, but she also recognized that her son wanted to be a hero... a questionable era to be a hero in, for sure. Having an extra hand in the TOG 3 definitely helped though.

This part of Heinrik's life allowed him to hang out with Abezithibod more, who he would come to fully idolize in addition to Gabriella. Heinrik would participate in every war up until the 1990s. At this point he was starting to get fed up with wars of the modern era. It was grueling, there was no glory to be had, and seeing his comrades die in front of him had finally killed his drive. Despite this upset, Heinrik did not regret the lives he saved and helped. He would also hold onto his M1 Garand, as it had served him well throughout his years of service.. 

The 2000s and onwards

Heinrik finally returned to Inferno and spent a month at the Rofocale estate. He was grounded and took that seriously, to his father’s surprise. Once his grounding was finished, he found himself invited to an annual ceremony. His father had been keeping track of his escapades and Inferno's Veteran Legion had all sorts of awards to give him. 

Despite war being a nightmare, it warmed his heart to know that his peers viewed him as a true soldier and a hero who went above and beyond. Heinrik did not really think what he did was that big of a deal until his father put his accomplishments into perspective. He was also commended by other demons who had taken to Earth in the past, just like he had done. Heinrik was feeling pretty good for once and finally accepted some pride for his time in the military.

Upon retiring from military service, Heinrik wanted to travel. He was not sure what to do with himself, so why not see the sights of Inferno? Fortunately Abezithibod was around at the time, so he sought him out. Abezithibod could see that Heinrik was aimless, so he happily took the boy with him on his travels. Abezithibod liked having Heinrik around as he was kind of lonely when Ellen was not around. Plus he did legitimately want to mentor the young demon given his recent past. Amidst all the clubs, bars, pizza joints, malls, and arcades, Abezithibod would tell Heinrik his stories and impart his wisdom onto him. And of course Abezithibod had to hear Heinrik's stories as well.

At some point around 2012, Heinrik would hear someone strange calling out for help. It was a Slavic man by the name of Vladislav Dracul (under the name Vladislav Velimir Faust at the time). Heinrik was truly intrigued by the individual, as Vladislav was not exactly human. He also saw that the man had had a troubled life and empathized with him. After presenting the idea of becoming a necromancer to him, Heinrik became Vladislav's partner. He would stay close to him and keep him safe to the best of his ability.

In regards to Heinrik

Heinrik's personality is fairly complicated. He started life as a rowdy fireball with boundless energy who was very friendly, albeit a bit too enthusiastic at times. This led to him not having many friends throughout his childhood. He never took too well to people telling him what to do nor being picked on. Heinrik had a hard time focusing in school, given that he was not really into being lectured and was more of a hands-on learner. This was something that Valentina and Gabriella quickly picked up on. Moving on to his teenage years, obviously he had fantasies of grandeur and fame. Even demons are not immune to growing up and the pains that come with it. Heinrik got pretty headstrong and brash during these years, something his years of service tempered. 

One thing that remained constant was his inner fire and pride. Even if his adventures dampened it, it was always there no matter what. Going into proper adulthood, he had become more refined and courteous, for the most part. He is more than happy to tussle with anyone that messes with him. Lastly, he will stand up for his friends and family no matter what the situation is. His bonds are something he cherishes the most.

It would be a lie to say his past does not haunt him, however. There are nights where he will wake up in a cold sweat. It could be him having a vivid nightmare, thinking he's still on the battlefield still, or having an idea that could have led to a different outcome in battles long since past. Believing he is still on the battlefield are typically the worst fits, sometimes requiring those he is with to treat him like a soldier to get him to relax

In regards to his abilities, Heinrik is a unique demon. Naturally he has the standard array of demon abilities, but of note is his stone hands. They are an organic stone that appear to be furnaces of some kind, being the source of his signature Black Flame. These furnaces definitely caught the attention of his parents and teachers. Valentina was able to learn how these worked and then taught Heinrik how to use them. 

Black Flame is best described as a demonic fire that burns whatever it touches, similar to ANTIMagic Haze’s Soul Fire or Rose Raynot’s Scarlet Fire. Iron, glass, concrete and other non flammable materials burn like they were flammable. It is a handy ability, if one knows how to use it effectively. Another benefit of this is the stone fists themselves. They can deliver the mightiest of punches, defeating an enemy without even having to use the Black Flames. 

Heinrik does have to remind himself to be careful though. His fellow demons can shrug off his punches and flames, but humans cannot. Anyone who invokes him can make use of the Black Flames and potentially turn their hands into his. Vladislav has definitely made use of this, despite being somewhat scared of it. In regards to who can summon him, Heinrik is very selective. It is not that he thinks he is too good for people, it is that he knows how dangerous his abilities can be.

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[aeterna-auroral-avenger]

Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!

An excerpt from Scott Lang's memoir just dropped, and I am so excited!! I can't wait for this book to come out! I'm going to devour this book when I get my hands on it.

Posting it below because I will want to read it again and again and again later

HI THERE. HOWDY. HEYA! Man, I hate introductions.

If you’re reading this book, first of all, thank you! Even though I can make my body as large as the Empire State Building, some days my self-esteem gets, well, ant-sized. Maybe that’s an occupational hazard of being an Avenger and working alongside the mightiest and smartest people on Earth, but the feeling is still there. Even when I remember that I did help save half the world.

Anyway, my name is Scott Lang. You may now or at one time have known me as “Ant-Man.” I’ve been involved in some Super Hero stuff you might have heard about, some Super Hero stuff you probably haven’t heard about, and some Super Hero stuff you might be tired of hear­ing about—at least if you’re anything like my immedi­ate family.

But who is Scott Lang? Well, I’m just an average, middle-aged white guy who went to a fancy nerd col­lege, got married, and landed a solid white-collar desk job. I used to work as a computer guy at VistaCorp, a huge tech firm that deals with security. (Oh, the irony of that, but just wait for it!) My wife Maggie and I had a baby girl named Cassie, and we were heading into an uncomplicated, peaceful suburban life outside of San Francisco.

I mean, sure, on our TVs we were watching the world occasionally coming under attack by strange beings. But we also saw this amazing group of Super Heroes called the Avengers, who always managed to show up exactly when they were needed and send those baddies back . . . away. From our planet. And my life.

However, there were still some baddies right here on Earth. Specifically, in my workplace.

As I began to discover over time, my company was not completely on the up-and-up. Under the (mis)guidance of my boss, the company I was working at, VistaCorp, started using its prowess with security to take advantage of customers. Specifically, someone either overlooked or deliberately created a glitch in the payment-processing software, skimming millions of dollars from customer accounts.

I decided I was not okay with that.

After multiple attempts to push back against the company, attempts that one might describe as “legal” or “reasonable” or “advisable,” I decided to go in a dif­ferent direction.

I’d like to start with the positives: I returned five mil­lion dollars to our customers and exposed VistaCorp’s nefarious dealings to the public.

And, on the other side, I also drove an extremely expensive sports car into an extremely expensive pool, and myself into San Quentin Federal Penitentiary for three years.

Even worse, this was also around the time that my marriage to Maggie broke up. I don’t want to get into the specifics of why—that’s strictly Scott-Maggie stuff—but let’s just say “Husband suddenly going to the pen for three years” wasn’t exactly a marriage-saver.

More critically, though, that divorce, plus imprison­ment, effectively separated me from my dear, sweet daughter, Cassie. For way too many of her precious first few years. I wondered if she and I would ever even have the chance to make a connection.

Eventually, I finished my sentence, left San Q, and attempted to rejoin the world. Even if the world didn’t quite seem to know what to do with me yet. I couldn’t get a job with a conviction on my record. I had no funds or place to stay. Even my one joyful attempt to reunite with Cassie was cut short by Maggie and her fiancé, telling me I had to get my life together before we could talk visitation or shared custody.

Fortunately, though, there was one guy who did have a use for me.

Unless you’ve spent the past few years in a cave (or, say, a subatomic realm), you’ve probably at least heard of Pym Technologies. Or at least, Hank Pym.

If you haven’t, Hank Pym was the inventor of the Pym Particle, an incredible scientific breakthrough. Pym Particles have the power to cause molecular reduction or expansion at great scales in either direction. In other words, they can make anything super-small or super-big. Hank and his wife, Janet Van Dyne, put this to direct use on themselves, performing countless heroic deeds as the original Ant-Man and The Wasp.

And outside of the Super Hero game, Hank started a serious R&D operation known as Pym Technologies. But a few years ago, Pym Tech fell into the unscrupulous hands of people who wanted to exploit his discoveries for use on the battlefield—and to sell the resulting technology to folks we really do not want to be in battle with! By then, Hank had been pushed out of the com­pany that literally had his last name on the door. But he knew what was being planned with his invention, and that it had to be stopped. So he . . . let’s say “hired” me to recover his creations from Pym Tech.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Scott! is probably what you’re saying right now. How did we jump from custody disputes to biotech espionage?

Well, right about the time I was stumbling out of prison, trying to find myself, Hank Pym—whom I didn’t know at the time—found me. Hank had done his research on me and knew I was skilled at both elec­tronics and thievery. And most importantly, he knew that I had nothing left to lose.

Unbeknownst to me, he “tested” me by enticing me to steal the Ant-Man suit from his highly formidable safe. Once I succeeded at that, Hank and his daughter, Hope Van Dyne, kinda “stole” me from police custody, offered me the gig (as if I had a choice!), and then trained me to pull off one of the craziest high-tech heists ever.

So, return the potentially world-threatening military technology to its rightful creator, and it’s back to peace again, right?

Wrong.

Literally no sooner had I pulled off the Pym Tech operation (with an assist from some old prison pals and some extremely skilled ants) than I found myself face-to-face with the Avengers.

Well, two of them, anyway. Captain America and the Falcon. Believe me, two’s more than enough! I’d already had a tussle with the Falcon, but now he and Cap (as I would soon be calling him, no big deal) actually wanted my help.

Wow. I mean, wow! It wasn’t just cranky old semi-retired scientists tracking me down anymore—now I’d caught the attention of Earth’s Mightiest.

So what they wanted me for was . . . a bit messy. Basically, the Avengers had a huge internal divide over something too complicated to get into here, and Cap and Falcon wanted some fresh (and highly size-adaptable) muscle on their side. Especially when all of this culminated in a huge Avengers-vs.-Avengers fracas at an airport in Germany. Germany! I’d just spent three years in a tiny cell. Now I was suddenly “doing Europe”?

I don’t want to get into the details of the conflict (and in fact I am under legal obligation not to), but let’s just

say I might have been on the more “badass” side of it.

In the end, that whole fight got resolved, as I think you know. Otherwise our planet would be a scorched battlefield of never-ending intra-Avengers smackdowns.

So . . . peace on Earth now?

Nope. That’s when—thanks to Thanos—half of all life in the universe disappeared. So no, no peace on Earth or anywhere else.

I wasn’t around for those five years of missing people (you’ll find out why soon), but I came back just in time, jumped to a different timeline, fought, like, every bad guy in the universe on a field in upstate New York, helped the Avengers stop Thanos, and put all the people back where they belonged. Including, last but not least, putting my precious Hope back together with me!

As you might imagine, that was . . . a lot.

So in the time since, I’ve been trying to take things a bit easier. Nursing wounds. Reconnecting with those I’ve missed. Reflecting on what it all means.

Oh yes, and of course, writing this book!

And if you want to really get to know who Scott Lang is, reading this book is where I’d recommend you start.

So at this point, I bet you also have a very serious question—one which I’ve asked myself over a thousand times a day while writing this:

Why on Earth is Scott Lang the first Super Hero writ­ing a book?

I mean, just between us, I’m proud to be an Avenger, but sometimes I also feel like a “latecomer.” Sure, I came through in the ultimate clutch, but in baseball terms, I’m not a starter—I’m a DH (designated hero).

Here’s how I see it: I’m the “everyman Avenger.” I’m the one you could grab a beer with, the one you’d feel okay asking to look after your dog when you’re away or for a drive to the airport. I’m not a Super Soldier or a billionaire (unless this book is super-successful), just a regular dad, a San Francisco Giants fan, and a guy who’s made mistakes I’m still trying to rectify.

In a word, I’m an ordinary guy who’s been thrust—more than once—into extraordinary circumstances.

And I know that still doesn’t completely answer the question of why I wrote this book.

The simple answer is, “The Avengers asked me to.”

One day, Bruce “the Hulk” Banner and Clint “Hawkeye” Barton took me out for lunch. They said they were con­cerned that the world didn’t really know what had hap­pened with Thanos and the Blip and our long struggle to finally put things right again.

At first, as I usually do when confronted with heavy topics, I made a joke: “I’m pretty sure at least half the world knows what happened.”

Bruce responded that yes, of course, billions had experienced these jarring and mind-bending events, but they didn’t know the full story behind them. And ultimately, that’s what people need the most to get through and get past traumatic events: a narrative that helps it all make sense.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Solid plan. So who are you going to get to tell that story?”

Clint answered, “You, Scott. You’re the guy who got scooped up in all this pretty recently. You’ve still got one foot in their world. And you’re a guy everyone likes . . . and trusts.”

And Bruce sealed the deal: “It’s tough stuff, and no one knows how to keep it light like you.”

Well. I still had tons of doubts. I was hardly an eye­witness to almost all that history. I hadn’t been around for the Battle of Wakanda, or any of the events that led to Thanos gathering the various Infinity Stones.

But pretty much immediately, I knew what my answer would be. As far as I’m concerned, when the Avengers ask you do to a job—any job—you say yes. So I did. Two quick handshakes (Bruce—now permanently in his Hulk body—made sure to keep his “not too firm”), and it was settled. They’d supply me all the archival footage and documentation, take me anywhere I needed to go, and let me ask as many questions as I needed.

The only thing is, it wasn’t actually 100 percent set­tled for me—on the inside. From the confidence peak of having two amazing Super Heroes place their trust in you, there was a frighteningly steep plummet into self-doubt. Even with their sensible reasons, the whole affair just stirred up a question that’s been burning inside me most of my adult life:

Why me?

I’ve been asking myself that since before I even met the Avengers. Back when I was working at VistaCorp, why was I the only one who couldn’t sleep at night after learning of all the money they were stealing from cus­tomers? Why did I basically give up my job, give up my marriage, and spend three years in San Quentin, just so I could play Robin Hood?

And finally—and this one still smarts—when VistaCorp’s nasty business became public to the world, why was I the one who ended up going down for it?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. And perhaps I never will.

Not even Doctor Strange can tell me, and believe me, it’s not for my lack of asking. Once the purple dust had settled from the Battle of Earth, I tried bonding with the guy. Let’s just say, he was either unwilling or uninterested in filling me in about any of my 14,000,605 possible pasts.

But here’s what I do know. That VistaCorp/prison experience taught me that our world is broken. And that it’s never going to get fixed unless folks like me—the unlikely ones—step up to the job.

And when Hank Pym plucked me out of the ex-con pool and put me to work as Ant-Man 2.0, I started to see the haziest outlines of a “why” for me. Maybe all those hard years I had just endured were actually preparation for a higher purpose.

Which is a good thing, because right after my first outing as a hero, I was drafted into that aforementioned very scary and sort of confusing business with Avengers fighting other Avengers in Germany, I was sent to an underwater super -SUPER-max prison, and once again, I had to take the fall and spend two more years in deten­tion under house arrest.

Why me again?

Still no perfect lock on the answer, but I was beginning to glimpse one. This is going to sound beyond weird for a guy whose success—and often life—depends on quantum mechanics, but basically, I had a feeling.

Even as I was yanked from one seemingly unthink­able scenario to another, asked to do things I would have never dreamed possible, I began to see that many incredible things were, in fact, possible—and I was doing them. And they started to feel more and more, for lack of a better word, right.

I know this is the kind of feeling my Avengers pals feel mid-mission or mid-battle, and maybe they’ve gotten used to it, but I’m just finally getting there. To the feel­ing that, even when faced with the most terrifying foes imaginable, even with the odds exponentially stacked against you, if you are working side by side with others to serve a greater good, you are in the right place, doing the right thing. For you.

And honestly, that’s the real story behind the entire Avengers saga. It’s the one I thought was most essential to share with all of you. That was the deeper reason I said yes to those two Avengers at the lunch counter. Because I knew that, once again, I was being called to do what seemed impossible (or at least, highly inadvisable)—but instead, I let the feeling take hold, and guide me.

And I realized that I needed to share that feeling with you.

Because at the end of the day, nobody can tell where life is going to yank them, unexpectedly and seemingly beyond their reach. Steve Rogers signed up to fight, imagining he’d only go as far as a scrawny guy can get in wartime. Tony Stark was brilliant and successful, but I know a part of him wondered if he’d ever get out from under his dad’s shadow. Even Doctor Strange in all his professional success could never have imagined becoming a Master of the Mystic Arts—or even that such a thing existed!

And that same unpredictability is just as true for you as it is for me. What would you do if life shrunk you down and tossed you into a bathtub being filled by your former prison buddy? Okay, that one might just be me. But how about when life sends you unexpectedly packing from your gig of three years and straight into a jail cell—because you dared to blow the whistle on your company’s greed?

You don’t ask why. You ask, “Where do I go from here?”

Because that’s the job life has for you, at least right at this moment, and it’s the kind of job you don’t get to quit.

You can run, but you can’t hide—not even if you can shrink yourself down and leap into a bathtub.

Now I know I said before that I don’t, technically, have a super-power. But looked at another way, I actually do. And the even cooler part is, so do all of you.

Having the ability to change my size at will, I’ve seen that the world is full of “big guys” and “little guys.” And unsurprisingly, the former is always stepping on the latter. Sometimes this is by design, but sometimes, just because of their status and drive, the big folks don’t even see the everyday, hard-working folks just trying to get by.

That’s why it’s always the job of people like me—and, as I’m going to show you throughout this book, you—to look out for the little guy. That’s something we all have a super-powered ability to do, if we simply choose to accept the job.

You are in this place and time for a reason, and no one else is. And so—when that next uncertain, unlikely, “impossible” step is revealed to you—I urge you with every particle in my body, Pym or otherwise, to turn that “Why me?” into a “Why not me?”

At least that’s what I tried to do when I promised the Avengers I would tell their story. And the best way I know how to do that is by telling mine at the same time. Because as I’ve learned, whenever I start to talk about something big that happened, I also see the little lessons that can be learned from it, and I want to share that, to help myself and others.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t get the chance to be around my daughter Cassie for so many chunks of her life, to share what I’d learned with her. I’m still working on that, but it’s hard now that she’s a grown-up herself who’s already seen and experienced so much without me to guide her. I missed the boat on that one, but believe me, you are in for an entire book of “Dad wisdom” just burning for a home.

So that’s what I plan to do in this book. I’m going to tell it all, from how I saw it, experienced it, and heard it firsthand from my hero buddies. I’m going to bring you into the hero world.

Along the way, you’ll hear about my story—Scott Lang’s story—from where I started to the (ant-) man I’ve become, and am still becoming. Because I’m so incredibly fascinating? No. Because my life—just like yours—loses half its value if we don’t find a way to share its lessons with others.

And finally, because—if you take nothing else away from my words—what I want to share is that what makes all of us giants is how much we look out for the little guy. How we help out our fellow humans when they need it most. How our greatest super-power can simply be a listening ear, a concerned eye, or an outstretched hand. How we don the “hero’s uniform” by simply showing up and doing the unbelievably unlikely job that life has just handed us.

And speaking of jobs, I’ve got an entire rest of a book to write. Oh, why did I agree to this? WHY ME?