#I can use all those operators I built and haven't used! it's so good!

[santacoppelia]

Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

[windvexer]

On magic as being a chore, and why I think that's fine and probably a helpful way to frame it for a lot of people who want to do practical sorcery

On the topic of wards, have you ever had to dig a drainage ditch so water won't accumulate around your house?

Or, put one of those little gates in a doorway so a new puppy can only stay in one area? Or, have you ever put out ant bait?

Hung up a "no solicitors" sign? Built a fence so the chickens can stay over there, and out of the garden? Built a shade cloth over the garden?

Because when you're building a shade cloth over the garden, you're casting a ward against the sun, right. You're binding the puppy and the chickens so they are constrained to certain areas. You're crafting a spirit trap to redirect the water so it won't harm your foundations. Casting a hex most vile upon the ants.

Etc.

But I really do think that in some conversations, wards and protections get framed in a weird Bonnie and Clyde way, where they're assumed to be only for witches living in the Wild West, having witch wars and doing Risky Magic.

I do enjoy the sinister mysticism that can sometimes surround witchcraft. But sorcerous strategy is a big interest of mine, and I think that a very useful way to arrive at useful strategy is to de-mystify the whole operation.

It's just that we've got these weird labels, like hex, bind, banish, ward, protect, conjure; but when you get down to it, you can just be doing the most mundane stuff with your magic.

I can use a shade cloth to ward the garden against the sun. Then, I can string garlic on a red thread to ward against illness.

I can put up a fence to keep the chickens on that side of the back yard, then hang up a magical no solicitors sign because I'm tired of getting knocks at my door.

This is what gets my goat, sometimes, about people saying magic has to feel all wonderful and beautiful and everything. Yes, I love the experience of being productive with a hammer on an early spring morning, but building a fence is tedious. When it comes down to it, it's still just building a fence. Even if I build it with wax and bits of paper instead of wood and nails.

I feel like there is so much magical housekeeping people could be doing, or would greatly benefit from, that people just don't do because it's wrapped up in these sinister-adjacent terms.

I don't think magic is actually hex/bind/banish/ward/protect/conjure. I really do think magic is a lot more like hammer and nails. Needle and thread. Oven and dough. Etc.

Is it a fast cash spell, or are you just going out to search for the eggs your prosperity hens have already laid?

You can have it either way you like; you can frame going out to get physical eggs from mundane hens as a rapid-manifest prosperity spell. Behold, after I cast a spell of going outside for two minutes, I have manifested five eggs, better than any store could provide.

But taking all the mystical stuff and letting it just be mending holes and baking bread and digging drainage ditches I think is helpful.

All in all, I think demystifying the language we couch practical sorcery in can have two helpful results, which are:

It's easier to let yourself do things you want to do, because while it's normal to say "There's no good reason for me to cast protections because there's no reason to think anything will come after me," it's also normal to say, "you know what would be a good investment for this property? A nice privacy fence, it would make entertaining feel more cozy and then we could start fostering puppies."

It's easier to compel yourself to do the things you need to do, because it stops being, "I really want to cast a prosperity spell but I just haven't been in a magical mood," and starts being, "it is my job to water the plants and if I don't they will wither and die. So I'll make myself a nice tea to bolster my resolve and get to it before work."

[drdemonprince]

Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

[astorytotellyourfriends]

The one thing that everyone seems to know about Eddie Munson is that when he's not out touring the world with his band, Corroded Coffin, he makes a point to be as invisible as possible in order to spend time at home with his family. Eddie, along with his wife Chrissy of seven years and their two young children, graciously invited Vogue into their Hollywood Hills home that's about as secluded as you can get while still having that coveted Los Angeles zip code.

Vogue: I have to admit, given what I've seen of Corroded Coffin on stage, I think I expected your home to reflect a bit more of that personality.

Eddie Munson: [laughs] You can thank Chrissy for that. She's the brains behind this whole operation, I just do what she tells me.

So there's no hidden dungeon in the basement?

Hate to burst your bubble, but nope. I've been trying to get a sacrificial altar for the backyard, but I haven't found one I liked yet.

Really?

[laughs] I'm kidding. But I had you going, right?

You really did. But that's what you've always done, right? Leaned into the mania of Satanic Panic and made it work for you?

Yeah, I guess so. I mean, people are gonna believe whatever they wanna believe anyway so I might as well give 'em what they want, right? Plus, [laughs] it's a hell of a lot of fun.

What's it like having that devil-worshipper stage persona with two young kids at home? Do either of your kids know what their dad does for a living?

Oh, yeah. They [redacted] love it. Wait, can I say [redacted]?

We can't print it, but you can say it.

[Redacted] yeah. Our little one doesn't really get the whole stage thing yet, but she sure looks cute in those big-ass headphones.

And your other daughter?

Oh, if she could be on stage with me every night, she would be. On our last tour, we had this gimmick where Gareth rigged a bunch of blood packs to his drums to explode during the encore and she thought it was the coolest [redacted] thing in the world. He even offered to let her do it when we were in rehearsals!

And did she?

Maybe.

From the look on your face, I'm guessing she did.

[laughs] Don't tell Chrissy.

Scout's honor. Until this article comes out, anyway.

[Redacted]. Is it too late to say off the record?

Way too late.

[Redacted]. Oh well. Worth it. She had the biggest [redacted] grin on her face when she was covered in fake blood, it was priceless.

Seems like you might be raising a mini version of yourself. Would you support your kids following in your footsteps and joining the music industry?

[Editor's note: At this point in the interview, the eldest Munson child came running out of the back door and pounced on her father, who took it in stride and continued answering questions as though he didn't have a six-year-old hanging over his shoulder.]

I mean, if that's what they wanna do, then hell yeah.

[gasps] Daddy said a bad word!

Daddy did not, Daddy said hell.

Mommy said hell's a bad word.

Mommy also said you were supposed to stay inside, didn't she?

Pip was crying. She misses you.

Do you need a moment?

[laughs] Believe me, if I took a moment for every time I wanted to be with my kids, I'd never get anything done.

Because you love us so much?

Exactly.

How much?

To the moon and back.

That's a lot!

Sure is, kiddo. Now shush and let the nice lady ask her questions.

Ooh, ask me! Ask me! I got lots of stories.

If you don't mind?

It's your funeral. [laughs] She'll talk your ear off if you let her.

What do you think about your dad being a rockstar?

[shrugs] It's okay.

Wow, thanks for the endorsement, kid. You heard it here first: being a rockstar is just okay.

Would you rather he had another job?

[shrugs] What other job?

I dunno. Playing music's the only thing I've ever been good at.

Nuh-uh! Daddy's good at lots of things.

Like what?

Telling stories. Playing with me. One time, he built me a big castle out of pillows and chairs and blankets and we played in it all day 'til Mommy said it was time for dinner. And then we all went to bed in it. Like camping!

Camping? When did you go camping?

Mommy let us sleep outside and said it was like camping. It was when you were gone. I don't like when you're gone. It makes Mommy sad. And then I'm sad. And Pip's sad. You're not going away again, are you?

No, baby. I'm staying right here with you.

Good. [to Vogue] Do you wanna see what Daddy brought home for me last time he went away?

I'd love to.

Okay!

[Editor's note: just as quickly as she came, Munson's daughter ran off to go fetch the present from inside the house.]

Do you need a minute?

Nah. It just… [sighs] never gets easier, you know? Hearing how much they miss me when I'm gone. I miss them all the [redacted] time.

I'm not surprised. Just from the last five minutes, I can see how much she adores you and I can't imagine what it's like to leave that behind, even when it's to go on a worldwide tour.

It's tough. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's what's given us this house, all the [redacted] that the girls need, anything they could ever want, but… [shrugs] I dunno. Sometimes giving it all up doesn't sound half as hard as leaving them is. Maybe that's just me being ungrateful.

I don't think so. I think it means you're human. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know? Torn between two worlds.

[laughs] Now there's an idea for an album. The dichotomy of being a rockstar and a father.

I'd listen to it.

Hell, so would I.

(might continue this with a lil follow-up fic of chrissy and eddie reading the interview before it goes to print... thoughts? 👀)

[minty-mumbles]

Whumptober Day 16: "Don't go where I can't follow" (Pt. 1)

Summary: Hyrule and Wild are time travelers trying to run away from their past. They seem to be doing a pretty good job at it until they stumble across a family they don't want to leave behind. They end up leaving anyway, but unlike every other time they've left people behind, the Lon family doesn't seem content to stay in the past.

AN: This is fairly tame as far as whump goes. Mostly just emotional whump, but there is some human experimentation/slavery in the flashbacks

Read on AO3 | Part 2

~~~

“Hyrule, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“The apple we sent forward in time is sitting in front of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Wild, we sent this forward in time a month ago.”

“Mhmm.” 

“The spell worked?”

“It worked. Hyrule!” 

“Wild! We did it!”

”Oh my gods! Are- are you-”

“The apple is still fresh! There’s no sign of rotting.”

“Are- are you feeling okay though? Not feeling woozy or anything?”

“My magic feels just fine. The spell was completely reliant on that magical battery. All I had to do was set the magic going in the right direction, and let it run. It didn’t drain anything from me at all. What about you?”

“You know I’m fine, ‘Rule. I don't have the power needed to do something like this. All I’m good for is fine-tuning. If the spell had been operating off my power, it wouldn’t have even worked in the first place.”

“...”

“I wonder what those stuck up Sheikah scientists would do if they knew?” 

“Probably try to take credit for our work. Two teenagers with magic invent a fictional time travel spell before they can? They would kill us.”

“Not funny, Hyrule.”

“I wasn’t really joking.”

“...”

“Wild, do you know what this means? Now that we know the spell works, we can leave! Well, we need to get our hands on another battery. Preferably one that won't run out of power and explode like the last one did, and who knows how long that’s going to take, but-!”

“But afterwards we can leave! We can travel back to before this gods-forsaken building was even built and just walk away. And I don’t think it’ll take us long to get a hold of a strong enough battery.”

“What do you mean?”

“I swear, you need to start paying more attention to the scientists, Hyrule.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when I’m nearly unconscious every time they finish their… experiments. It’s hard to listen to their conversations if I can’t hear anything.”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay. What were you saying?”

“They found a new artifact. They’ve been testing it for a month and still haven't found the limits of its power. They think it might be regenerating the power on its own. Supposedly it’s a combination of ancient Sheikah tech and magic. They’re calling it the Sheikah Slate.”

“A self-regenerating power source? That’s almost too good to be true.”

“Yeah. So…. How long will it take you to steal it, ‘Rule?”

“Just point me in the direction of the room they’re keeping it in, and I’ll have it to you within twenty-four hours.” 

“...“

“Wipe that grin off your face, Wild!”

“Why shouldn't I be happy? We’re finally getting out!”

~~~

Wild and Hyrule.

Hyrule and Wild. 

It had always been the two of them. They were brothers. Maybe not biologically, but they had suffered and survived together, and now they were doing more than surviving. They were living. 

They traveled together, always one step ahead of harm and one spell away from safety. They were filled with a longing to explore the world, and neither of them had a reason to ignore that longing, so they simply didn’t. 

They had a thirst to see, to know, to experience, and they had the power to do all that and more at their fingertips.

It was kind of ironic that the time travel spell turned out to be so simple in the end. Hyrule provided the force behind the spell, the Slate provided the raw power, and Wild did the fine-tuning to get them exactly where and when they wanted to go. After casting the spell hundreds of times, it was second nature to them. They could slip through the fabric of time with less effort than a sewing needle slipping through loosely woven cloth.

The Slate had been a blessing from the gods. They never would’ve escaped that laboratory. Not only did it provide a steady source of power that never seemed to run dry- no matter how often they jumped through time- it was also able to store items and money within it. It made their lives so much easier. 

The two of them had been everywhere and everywhen. All over the world, in all different time periods. Sometimes they traveled back to the time when humans were nothing more than apes living in the trees, and spent weeks living off the land. Sometimes they stopped in busy cities to enjoy the rush of the crowds. Occasionally they would wander into a library, pull the first history book they saw off the shelf, then travel to the time period the book was about. 

The entire world was open to them, and they could do whatever they wanted to.

Well, mostly. There were some limitations.

They couldn't change the past. As much as they wanted to, they couldn’t stop wars from breaking out or plagues from spreading. They also couldn’t go back and prevent their own personal tragedies from happening. Doing that would cause their pasts to change too much, and they might end up not existing in the first place. 

Neither of them were exactly eager to cause a paradox, so neither of them tried to play the hero, and they stayed away from times and places they’d already been to before. 

They also couldn’t travel beyond the late 2200s. That was when functional time travel technology had finally been discovered, and then promptly outlawed for normal citizens. They’d learned that the hard way when they’d nearly been arrested in 2311 for illegal time travel. 

Getting arrested was the last thing they needed. Wild said that he could think of plenty of governments that would love to get their hands on two of the most powerful mages in the world. Hyrule squawked in protest at being called one of the most powerful mages, but there was no refuting that Wild was probably right. 

There were very few mages left by the 2200s. Wild and Hyrule probably were the strongest ones left by that time. Any mage that was still living a free life after magic was outlawed would be too weak to be noticed by the government. (Well… technically magic was never completely outlawed, but it was only legal if you were using it in the service of the government. It was a nice way of saying that if you showed any signs of having magic, you were taken into state custody and you stayed there. Forever.)

To their relief, the pair had never seen any other time travelers before the 2240s. They didn’t know why, but they weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As long as they stayed in time periods before then, they were safe from the government, or anyone else for that matter, coming after them.

The fact that time travel was only discovered in the late 2200s offered them a bit of smug satisfaction. They had figured out time travel first, and they did it long before anyone else had. Nearly a hundred years before anyone else.

On top of that, the scientists obviously never cracked the secrets of magical time travel. Their time travel was purely technology-based. When Wild realized that, he gloated for a whole hour. Even Hyrule had smiled with a sense of sick satisfaction. Those scientists never got anything useful out of them. 

Good.

~~~

There had been a time Before. There had been a time when they hadn’t known each other. There had been a time when they’d had loving families and normal lives ahead of them. Wild had lived with his mom, dad, and little sister. Hyrule had been cared for by his mama and aunties and countless cousins.

Then it had all fallen apart. 

They were both young when their magic came in- only five or six years old, by their recollection. It had started slowly, as it always did. Little sparks would dance across Hyrule’s fingers, and Wild’s eyes would glow an eerie teal in the dark. 

Small, harmless things that marked them for slaughter. 

Wild’s parents hadn’t been brave enough to fight for him. 

They hadn’t wanted to face the consequences of harboring a magic user, even if that person was their own son. They had their other child to worry about, after all. They couldn't risk having his sister taken away from them as well.

So, at the young age of five, mere days after he had started showing the fit signs of magic, Wild’s parents had given him away with little fuss. It was one of Wild’s earliest memories. (Which was saying something, since he didn’t remember much of his childhood.) 

His parents both wore sorrowful expressions that day. Wild remembered being confused, but not commenting on it. His parents had been acting strangely for a while, after all. They had woken him up early, gotten him dressed, and handed him a backpack filled with some of his clothes. Then they had taken him to their living room where an official-looking stranger had been waiting. 

Wild hadn’t known what was going on at the time, so he had watched silently as his parents had signed the necessary paperwork to transfer custody of him over to the state. 

That had been the last time he had seen either of them. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye to his little sister.

Hyrule’s mother had been braver. Hyrule had been her only child, and she was not so willing to give him up. 

When she’d seen him use his magic for the first time, she’d screamed and cried in despair. Her reaction had frightened Hyrule so badly he’d ran away and hid under his bed. The two of them had left their house soon after that, selling it to one of his aunts. 

They moved out to the middle of the woods and learned how to grow and hunt most of the things they would need so they didn't need to go into town as much. His mama had started homeschooling him.

His mama had tried so hard to keep it a secret. She’d done everything she could have done. And it had worked for a time. The pair of them spent three years living in seclusion, but it wasn’t enough in the end. 

Hyrule never learned how the secret got leaked. Maybe one of his cousins had figured it out and blabbed. Maybe one of their neighbors had seen him doing magic in the woods one day. Hyrule didn’t know. 

In the end, it didn’t matter how it had happened, only that it did. Their little cabin was raided, and Hyrule was forcibly removed from his mother's care, and made a ward of the state.

That was how the two met at the age of nine, causing their fates to be changed forever.

~~~

It was rare for the two of them to stay in one place for longer than a month. They both had itchy feet, and nothing seemed to hold their interest for very long. Usually, they arrived, saw what they came to see, and then grew bored and moved on. 

No one expected them to stay, no one expected them to go. No one expected them to do anything. After years of being observed and examined through a microscope, it was a novel feeling to blend into the background.

It was even easier to blend in during the earlier time periods. Back then, people hadn’t looked twice at strangers wandering into town with no documentation. The pair had tried to rent an apartment in the 1980s once. That hadn’t turned out well when they realized neither of them had any paperwork. Like, say, a birth certificate, driver’s license, or any kind of identification. 

In general, it was less of a risk in general to exist in the 1800s or earlier, when no one had cameras or access to the internet, and no one cared if they ran into two teenagers living in the woods. 

It was also easier to earn money if they needed to. 

The pair didn’t shy away from stealing if it was necessary, though they were careful to try to only steal from people who wouldn't miss it too much. However, when they decided to stay in one place for a while, they typically tried to find a steady source of income instead. 

After they had spent so long wandering, they had both picked up a wide variety of skills. Neither of them were true masters of any one trade, but they could perform the basic tasks well enough to serve as assistants in most kinds of workshops. They could work in the fields, tend livestock, butcher animals, harvest, hunt, and fish. They knew enough to do the busy work in leatherworking, baking, stonemasonry, shoemaking, and all other sorts of crafts.

Wild had learned how to fletch arrows, which was always a talent in high demand in the eras where people still used bows. Hyrule had studied under a cartographer for a few months. They both became proficient with swords, bows, and spears. They learned how to use their bodies as weapons if needed. They even learned how to fire guns, even if they were rarely in a time period where guns existed.

Fighting was the topic they’d studied the most diligently. They learned and relearned until they didn’t even need their magic to defend themselves anymore. Not as long as they had weapons in their hands. (The phantom feeling of the weight of the magic suppressors on their ankles was ever-present. Never again would they be that helpless without their magic.)

Growing up with a basic understanding of modern medicine put them miles ahead of even the most educated doctors in the 1500s. Having a basic understanding of what germs were would do that, but Hyrule had taken the time to translate that modern knowledge into a form that could be applied using the materials that were available in the pre-modern era. He also, thankfully, learned how to use that medical knowledge in a way that wouldn't get them hung for being witches when he provided a miracle cure to some disease or injury. 

If they really needed to, they could even find a small city and become street performers or put on a show in a tavern or pub. Hyrule had slowly taught himself how to play the ocarina and flute, and Wild could sing. They didn’t even have to make up their own songs. All they had to do was play music from the modern era, and the foreign rhythms of the songs drew attention to them automatically. The amount of money you could get from playing an instrumental version of Britney Spears’ Toxic in 1432 was truly a wonder.

In short, there was always something they could do to earn some money if they wanted to. 

~~~

Wild sat on the edge of his bed and watched dispassionately as the new kid sobbed into the tiled floor. Wild’s feet didn't reach the floor, so he idly swung them back and forth as he observed. His fingers, restless and still numb from the freeze spell he’d been forced to cast over and over today, fiddled with the edge of the soft blanket he sat on top of.

A small part of him wanted to go help the boy, even if he knew it would be pointless. Wild had been here for years, and he’d seen plenty of other kids come and go. Some of them were quiet when they entered the room for the first time, nodding to Wild and putting away their meager selection of clothing in the dresser they would share with Wild while they lived here. Those were the ones who had already been in state custody for a while.

Then there were others, like this boy, who were forced into the room by the guards. Sometimes they screamed, sometimes they cried, sometimes they clawed at the door desperately, like wild animals. Those were the ones who had just been dragged away from their families. 

Wild knew that trying to offer comfort never actually helped. Nothing he could say could make it better, and some things he would say could make it a whole lot worse

The boy was one of the ones who simply cried. He hadn’t even bothered to stand once he had been shoved into the room, instead lying defeated on the floor. 

The boy looked sweet, with thick brown curls and freckles covering every inch of available skin. 

He was probably right around Wild’s age too, which was somewhat of a rarity. Sometimes his roommates were as young as five, sometimes as old as fourteen or fifteen. Having a roommate his own age would be nice.

Wild wondered if the two of them would get along. It was always a hit or miss as to whether he would get along with his roommate, but as long as the boy didn’t try and kill Wild, then it would be fine. 

Eventually, the boy’s wails died down into uncontrollable hiccups. Soon even those faded, leaving just uneven breaths, and Wild realized that the boy had fallen asleep. Wild wasn't even sure if the boy knew there was someone else in the room. Probably not, or he wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep and leave himself so vulnerable to Wild. 

Not that Wild would hurt him! But the boy didn’t know that.

When the boy had been quiet for a few minutes, Wild hopped down from his bed, walking closer to get a better look. The boy was really a mess. His face was covered in tear tracks and snot. His shirt and shirts were dirt-stained and torn, and he wore no shoes, his feet calloused and muddy. A magic suppressant cuff was secured tightly around his ankle. The blue light that indicated the device was turned on was blinking steadily. 

Wild reached down to try to move the boy into a more comfortable position but hesitated. The dirt that covered the boy made Wild twitch and reconsider touching him. It wasn’t anything like the clean and sterile environment he’d been surrounded with for the last four years. He couldn’t figure out if he liked it or not. 

It didn’t matter either way. 

Tomorrow, the guards would come and get the boy and take him to the washroom to get clean. The boy would become just as sterile as everything else in here, whether the boy wanted to or not. The scientists didn't like it when the person they were studying was dirty, and they would no doubt want to take a look at the new addition as soon as possible. 

The ruined clothing would be replaced tomorrow too, and Wild hoped for the boy’s sake that the guards would give him some socks and shoes. The tile floor in their room got cold even in the summer.

Wild wondered if the boy was cold, laying on the tiles. He shuffled over to the bed opposite his- the one that this boy would be sleeping in from now on- and dragged the blanket off. With a flourish, he draped the blanket over the boy. 

The blanket was large enough that it seemed to swallow the boy whole. Or maybe the boy was just small.

Wild climbed back onto his bed and resumed his previous position, watching the boy with a burning curiosity. 

He wondered what his name was.

~~~

Even Hyrule and Wild sometimes grew tired of it all. They would grow bored of the constantly changing scenery and want to rest for a while. Whenever they felt the urge to stop and smell the roses for a while, they would find somewhere to settle for a while. They would find lodging with a family kind enough to open their home to them or work for their room and board. They would put away the Slate and, for the most part, stop using their magic.

They met people, made friends, formed bonds, and inevitably broke those bonds when they left.

They never knew how long they would stay. Sometimes it would be a month, sometimes as long as a year, but in the end, they always had to leave. They were driven ever onward, both by their own restlessness and the knowledge that they never truly belonged anywhere. They couldn’t look backward, couldn’t dwell on the past.

(They were both painfully aware of the irony of that statement. Time travelers who couldn’t afford to think about the past. What a joke.) 

Sometimes they did the familiar song and dance of telling people they were leaving. They would break the news to their new friends that they were leaving, and listen as they were begged to stay. 

Most of the time they tried to avoid that heartbreak. Most of the time they left silently in the middle of the night and left behind no hint that they ever existed. Maybe it was cruel to leave without a trace, and leave behind those who cared about them, but Hyrule and Wild had done this many, many times. It would always be difficult, no matter how they left. Leaving quietly spared them a bit of the pain, so they didn't have to see the pain their departure caused. 

Sometimes Wild wondered why they bothered interacting with other people at all. It would be easier if they didn’t. It would spare them the heartache. Yet somehow they ended up making connections again and again. Hyrule said that everyone, even traumatized time travelers, needed human contact. Wild personally thought that was bullshit.

(Yet, he never protested when they wandered into a town and decided to stay for a while. Because in the end, they were both lonely.)

Hyrule never forgot the names and faces of the people they’ve met. Before they started time traveling, it had been Wild who had the better memory regarding people, their names, and their faces. It wasn’t like that anymore. Now, it seemed things like that slipped out of his mind easily. 

Sometimes Wild asked Hyrule to tell him stories about the people they’d befriended. It was always a toss-up if the stories would end with them laughing and happily reminiscing, or sitting close together, drenching in misery as they ached for forgotten friendships.

It was difficult. Difficult to form connections knowing they would have to end, and difficult to break those connections when the time came. 

There were times when it became too much. Times when they wanted to stop for a little while, but didn’t want the burden of human connection. At those times, it was easier to find a nice, uninhabited forest to make their home for a few weeks. 

Having lived in the woods for a good part of his childhood, Hyrule was already more than comfortable doing that. Wild took a bit longer to adjust but once he did, he was as at home in the woods as Hyrule was. 

As long as it wasn’t the middle of winter- and it never was, for them- the woods offered them the perfect place to enjoy the freedom that came with being wanderers

~~~

Today had been a bad day so far, and Hyrule didn’t foresee it getting any better. 

He’d woken up sluggish, inexplicably tired despite the fact that he’d slept like a rock the night before. The rest of the morning hadn’t been much better, for no perceivable reason. Everything had proceeded like it always did in the mornings.

One at a time, the guards had escorted Hyrule and Wild to the washroom to shower and get ready for the day. Once they were both back in the room and dressed, Breakfast had been brought to them by the guards. 

They’d given pancakes with maple syrup and a side of fruit and a few slices of bacon for breakfast today. The pancakes and maple syrup usually would’ve excited Hyrule- he had an infamous sweet tooth- but today he could hardly muster up a smile at the sight of it. 

Wild noticed his lack of enthusiasm and sent him a concerned look, but Hyrule had shrugged it off and kept his gaze firmly on his plate for the rest of the meal. He didn’t want to worry Wild for no reason. He doubted he was actually sick, so there was no need to say anything and there was nothing Wild could do if he did.

After they ate, their plates and utensils had been taken away. Wild and Hyrule had more privileges than most mages in this research facility did. It was a perk that came with being two of the residents that had lived there the longest- eight years for Wild, and four years for Hyrule- but they still weren’t allowed to keep the dull plastic knives they were given to eat with. 

A shame. Hyrule would have loved to keep one of them tucked under his mattress with the rest of his contraband items, but the guards always double-checked that all of the utensils were returned after every meal. 

Then they were left alone for a half hour or so, as was usual. It was a tense period of time as they waited to see if the researchers had anything planned for them today, or if they got to spend their day inside their room, entertaining themselves. 

When the guards returned, Hyrule was the only one called out of the room. Wild was left sitting on his bed, face passive as he watched Hyrule leave. The only reason Hyrule could tell the other boy was both relieved he hadn’t been summoned and a little worried for Hyrule was because he’d known Wild for so long. 

Wild had a habit of going stone-faced whenever one of the guards or scientists were around. Hyrule couldn’t blame him for that. The two of them had already gotten enough of their privacy taken away from them. They didn’t need to give the scientists a front-row seat to their inner thoughts and feelings as well. 

Hyrule followed the guards at a sedate pace, not able to muster up the energy to move any faster. (He was careful not to move too slowly, though. He knew from experience that the guards wouldn’t hesitate to drag him if they felt he was moving slowly on purpose.) A familiar feeling of anxiety bubbled in his stomach. He wondered what he would be made to do today. Hopefully, it wouldn't be anything too strenuous. 

He was taken to one of the standard testing rooms. There were several of these rooms in the building, and Hyrule was well acquainted with all of them. They all looked the same, with white cinderblock walls, a concrete floor, and one wall being made entirely of a one-way window so the researchers could observe him. The only furnishings in the rooms were a table and chair off to one side which were bolted to the floor and a speaker tucked up in one of the corners of the ceiling. 

Hyrule, used to this routine after so many years, went and took a seat in the chair. As always, one of the researchers came to take his blood pressure and listen to his breathing. They did these sorts of physical exams before every test they performed on him, and it was so routine that Hyrule barely registered when it happened anymore. 

Soon, the researcher was done jotting things down on their clipboard and exited the room. Hyrule sighed and slumped in his seat a little. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep. Maybe when he got back to their room, he could ask Wild to read aloud to him from the physics textbooks they’d been given. Learning about momentum and friction usually put Hyrule right to sleep, even if Wild loved it. (For some weird reason.)

That was the one upside of being a mage, Hyrule thought sarcastically as he stared dully at his reflection in the window across the room from him. Once the government found out you had magic, you never had to worry about school ever again. They were given textbooks and notebooks to keep themselves entertained when they weren’t needed for experiments, but they weren’t actually expected to know any of the material. Which was good, because Hyrule couldn’t imagine having to take exams on this stuff. He never managed to stay away for more than the first chapter of that stupid physics textbook-

A sudden noise crackled through the overhead speaker, startling Hyrule out of his thoughts. 

“Alright, Hyrule. We’re just going to be doing some energy tests today. Standard stuff, okay?” When he registered the voice and what it had said, he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that voice, and he was glad that this scientist would be the one running his tests today. 

There was a constantly rotating staff of researchers that Wild and Hyrule interacted with on a near-daily basis, but there were three main scientists who seemed to be in charge of the facility. The one they saw the most often was a positively ancient man with a rather eccentric personality. Every time Hyrule saw the man, he grew more and more surprised that he hadn’t passed away from old age yet. The second was a severe-looking woman in her mid-forties who never spoke to them unless it was to give them an order. Both Wild and Hyrule agreed she was the worst to deal with.

The last, and the one who was apparently overseeing his tests today, was a young woman in her twenties that Hyrule suspected was an apprentice of sorts to the other two. (Probably a replacement for when the old man finally kicked the bucket, Hyrule thought snidely.) Hyrule didn’t know what her name was, though Wild probably did. He was always better at paying attention to and remembering details than Hyrule was. 

Everything about the third scientist was soft. From her voice, to her mannerisms, to the way she treated the two of them. Hyrule rarely got a chance to look at her- or any of the other scientists- but when he did, he thought that she even looked soft. She had a rounded face and softly curling white hair that fell to her shoulders. Her face was faintly familiar, and every time Hyrule looked at her, he was reminded of his mother. 

He hated her for that, a little bit.

“Hyrule? Are you ready?” Hyrule blinked, the woman’s voice startling him back to reality once again. He hadn’t given any form of acknowledgement to her previous statement, he realized. 

‘Yeah, I’m ready,“ he confirmed.

“Okay, great!” The bit of warmth in her voice made Hyrule want to melt into the floor. He pushed that urge away. “We’re going to bring in the first artifact now. I’ll run you through the procedure as always, but I know you’re a pro at this by now, so we should get done pretty quickly.” 

She was right- testing magical artifacts, figuring out what their purpose was, and trying to find a limit to their power was one of the most common things they had him and Wild do. It was usually an easy and painless job, as long as the magic cast on the objects was inherently harmful. (if it was- well, that was a different story.)

Hyrule turned his gaze toward the door. Like clockwork, a man wearing a hazmat suit wheeled in a cart with an ancient-looking wooden box sitting on it. That must be the first item he’d be working with today. Once the cart was in the middle of the room, the man approached him with a familiar device in his hands. Hyrule, still on autopilot, lifted his leg, allowing the man to wave the device over this magic suppression cuff, deactivating it. 

Instantly, Hyrule felt a wave of relief wash over him. His magic, which the cuff had been suppressing, swelled up within himself. When the cuff was active it squished his magic down. Hyrule could still feel it, but he couldn’t access it. 

Hyrule didn’t know how the cuffs worked. All he knew was that he hated everything about them. Being unable to access his magic was like one of his limbs had been paralyzed. He knew it was still there, but he wasn’t able to make it do anything. 

When the researcher was done turning off the cuff, he shuffled off to the side of the room. Hyrule knew he would wait until the tests were done, and then reactivate the cuff before Hyrule was let out of the room. The only door out of the room would remain locked until then.

Testing was the only time the suppression cuffs were turned off. They had to be deactivated to allow Wild and Hyrule to use their magic for the tests. The scientists were always careful to only turn the cuffs off when they were locked in a secure room with a locked door, and under constant scrutiny.

They were a little bit stupid, in Hyrule's opinion. It didn’t matter if he was in a locked room and under constant watch. When he had his magic, he could simply unlock the doors, or force the guards to turn their attention away from him. When he was finished with whatever he needed to do, he could walk right back to where he’d been before, and no one would be any wiser.

Honestly, given how adept both Wild and Hyrule had become at making themselves unnoticeable, it would be stupidly easy to get out of the facility, 

The only reason they stayed was the fact that they knew they’d gotten off easily. Some mages got shipped off to use their magic to fight in wars. The fact that the two of them were only in a research facility where they got three healthy meals a day and a comfortable place to sleep wasn't something to be overlooked. Hyrule knew they wouldn’t be as lucky if they tried to escape and got caught a second time.

They’d seen what happened to mages who managed to escape from research facilities and then were caught again, and it wasn’t pretty. What they needed was a guaranteed permanent ticket out of here. So far, they’d come up empty.

The overhead speaker crackled to life once again, the scientist speaking the first instructions, and Hyrule heaved himself to his feet.

Gods, he hoped the scientist was right, and they would be able to finish early today. 

He was so tired. 

~~~

When Wild and Hyrule stumbled across the Lon family’s house, they hadn’t been looking for civilization, and they certainly weren’t expecting civilization to find them, but that’s exactly what happened.

Neither of them realized their feet had found a well-worn path until they were stumbling out of the woods. The trees surrounding them slowly transitioned from naturally planted oaks and maples and pines to neat rows of apple and pear trees. The pair slowed as they walked through the orchard, confused. They knew there was a town within a day’s walk of here, but they hadn’t expected to find any civilization in this forest. 

Soon, the trees fell away, turning into a large field with a house and a barn tucked away near the edge of the woods. A garden filled to bursting with vegetables lay near the house, and a paddock with a few horses and goats stretched out as far as they could see into the field.

It was a large property and very well taken care of, especially for this time period. Wild and Hyrule exchanged glances, smiles creeping across their faces. 

“Hyrule, when was the last time we ate fresh pears?”

“Couldn't tell you.” Despite Hyrule’s short answer, they both knew what the other was thinking. The owners of the house wouldn’t miss two or three pears, especially if they didn’t see Hyrule and Wild take the fruit. No one was outside, and if they were quick they might be able to take some and leave before anyone came out of the house or barn.

In no time at all, Wild had climbed up into one of the pear trees and was tossing the fruit down to Hyrule. He had just thrown down the third one when a shout sounded from behind them.

“What the hell are you two doing?!” 

“Oh, shit!” Wild yelped, nearly falling out of the tree as he was startled. He managed to turn his fall into a somewhat controlled descent, landing awkwardly next to Hyrule, who’d already turned to face off with the person who had yelled. 

 A boy, maybe a few years older than them, was stomping across the field from the direction of the house. He had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a red tunic, and he looked pissed.

Wild and Hyrule winced, glancing at each other. 

Busted.

“Those are my trees! The pears only just started to ripen, and you come in here and try to take advantage of my hard work? Oh, no, absolutely not.” As the boy stomped closer, his anger seemed to drain out of him. Wild could feel him examining the pair of them, and taking stock of their dirty appearances and slightly-too-thin bodies. By the time he had drawn to a stop in front of them, he seemed to have deflated. 

The teen didn’t look irritated anymore, but the pity in his eyes was almost worse. 

Hyrule and Wild liked their lifestyle, even if it maybe wasn't the best for them. It was better than the alternative. They might have gotten three square meals a day in the research facility, but they would take their freedom over that anytime, even if it meant going hungry occasionally. 

If anyone wanted to pity them over their appearance, their usual reaction was to leave. There was no reason to stick around where they would be drowning in that sticky sweet emotion known as pity. It wasn’t like anyone could stop them from leaving, anyway.

Then the stranger seemed to make up his mind, and the pity vanished from his face, being replaced by an expression of irritation. Wild couldn’t tell if the teen was actually irritated or if he was putting on a mask to hide his true emotions.

He didn't get the time to figure it out, because in no time at all Wild and Hyrule were on their knees in the garden, pulling weeds. Neither of them were quite sure how they got there. The stranger- apparently named Legend- had steamrolled any of their protests. He insisted they helped as a repayment for the pears they took. 

Since they had nothing better to do, they hadn’t protested too much. 

After they were done in the garden, Legend offered to let them clean up using his family's bath house. When they were hesitant, he insisted, saying that since they were only so dirty because he had them working in the garden all afternoon, he should let them bathe. 

When they’d finished and returned back to the house, there were steaming mugs of tea waiting for them. By the time they were finished with the tea, there was a pot of stew bubbling over the fire. Legend wordlessly shoved bowls of thick venison stew into their hands, refusing to meet their eyes.

Wild narrowed his eyes at the bowl suspiciously. Had it been drugged, or poisoned? Why was Legend being so weirdly nice to them and giving them food? There must be something wrong with the soup. Wild quickly flicked his magic out, testing the food, looking for anything wrong with the stew.

Just as quickly as he sent it out, his magic withdrew into his body and settled calmly within him, curling up contently. There was nothing wrong with the stew, so Wild reluctantly ate. It was a bit flavorless, but still filling.

He missed how Legend’s eyes narrowed in his direction for a moment when he had used his magic to test the soup.

After they had all finished dinner- awkwardly and in silence- it was already dark, and rain was pattering softly against the windows of the house. Neither Wild nor Hyrule made an effort to excuse themselves from Legend’s house, as neither of them were eager to go out in the rain. They would continue abusing Legend’s generosity for as long as he would let them. 

Surprisingly, Legend’s generosity extended further than expected. He offered them his family’s spare mattress, dragging it out from the storeroom and leaving it in the living room, close to the fire. He huffed a gruff goodnight and retreated to the second floor of the house. Wild got the impression that Legend half expected the pair of them to have left by the time morning came. 

The mattress was small. It clearly wasn't made for two people, but neither of them minded. They were clean, full, warm, and their magic was giving them no warnings of danger. They were more comfortable than they had been in a while, no matter how cramped the bed was. 

They were more than used to sleeping curled around each other anyway. 

Wild was ready to drift off to sleep like that, curled around Hyrule and warmed by the embers in the fireplace at his back. Hyrule seemed to have a different idea, though, his voice breaking Wild from the content haze that had settled over his mind.

“I think Legend is a mage.” 

That certainly caught Wild’s attention. Wild stiffened, anty semblance of sleep being yanked away from him. He hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. Was that why Legend was being so kind? Because he knew they had magic and he was trying to be kind to his fellow mages who looked down on their luck?

“Why would you think that?” He asked.

“I can just feel it. When he looks at us… It feels like he's actually seeing us. The real us. And he doesn't feel like a normal human. It’s not exactly the same as the other mages we’ve seen, but I’m pretty sure he has magic.”

Wild didn’t respond, and eventually, Hyrule drifted off to sleep. There really wasn’t anything more to say about that. Either Hyrule was right or he was wrong. Either Legend had magic or he didn’t. 

It didn’t really matter. The two of them would be gone soon, anyway. 

When they woke the next morning, they found Legend sitting at the table, waiting for them with another pot of tea. 

So they had breakfast with him and then helped him with chores around the house. The next thing they knew, Legend’s father and brothers (all five of them) had returned from whatever errand they had been running the previous day. They had been surprised to return home to find three people in the house when they were expecting only one, but it had all been smoothed over easily.

Before Wild and Hyrule knew it, they were being offered a place to stay. As long as they earned their keep, they could live with the Lon family as long as they wished. 

Hyrule was insistent they would be leaving soon, though Wild had his doubts. He didn’t say anything to Hyrule, but he knew how easily staying one day turned into staying two, then a week, and then a month, and then longer. He suspected they would be living with the Lons for much longer than planned.

So they did. A few weeks into their stay, they came back to the house to find their mattress moved into what had previously been a spare room. They had become a permanent fixture in the house now. Dread slowly crept through Wild when he realized that. 

The Lon family was kind. They got along well with Wild and Hyrule, even if there was more teasing exchanged than kind words. Now the Lon family thought that WIld and Hyrule were going to stay. 

And Wild knew they couldn't.

They could never stay anywhere.

But a few weeks turned into a month. Then a month turned into half a year, and the leaves had long since turned to bright golds and brilliant reds and then fallen from the trees, and there was a fire burning in the hearth more often than not.

Wild and Hyrule both knew they should leave and spare themselves the heartache of growing close to someone before eventually having to leave them. 

But they didn’t.

~~~

Wild let out a jaw-cracking yawn, tucking his head under Hyrule’s chin. The two of them were curled up together on Wild’s bed. It was a bit awkward to cuddle like this, given that Wild was half a foot taller than Hyrule, and the bed was made to only fit one person, but they made it work. 

The pair of them didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, but it wasn't unusual. For the most part, the only friendly physical contact they could expect to receive was from each other, and sometimes they needed more than a brief hug. Some nights, it was an overwhelming sense of loneliness that drove them together. Some nights, one of them would wake up shivering with fear from a nightmare, and crawl into the other’s bed.

And some nights, like tonight, one of them would come back from testing and be too tired to even support their own weight. 

Usually, it was Hyrule who was subjected to the more draining experiments. He was the more magically powerful of the two, after all. Recently, however, Wild has been receiving more attention from the scientists. 

It was leading to more situations like this, where Wild was left lying prone on his bed, barely able to muster the energy to speak. Just as Wild usually did for him, Hyrule gathered all the blankets and pillows from his bed and took them over to Hyrule’s. After he got Wild comfortably situated, he climbed into the bed after him.

It took nearly a half hour of laying in silence for Wild to gain the energy to speak. “They’re becoming more and more interested in my time magic. I think they’re starting a new project.” His voice was muffled, spoken into Hyrule’s shoulder.

“I’ll be honest, Wild, I really don’t care about what the scientists are working on.”

Wild huffed. Hyrule could see he was irritated. It made Hyrule curious- normally, Wild didn’t care anymore than he did about the experiments the researchers were doing. If he was trying to tell Hurue about them now, when he was obviously exhausted, it must be something important.

“I think they’re trying to figure-” Wild was interrupted by another large yawn. Hyrule was about to tell him that he could tell him tomorrow, but he needed to go to sleep now, but Wild finished before he could. “They’re trying to figure out time travel.“

Hyrule frowned. “That’s not possible. Magic can do a lot of stuff, but time travel? There’s no way…”

Wild shrugged. ‘I dunno. I can slow time down a little bit. It’s not out of the question that if we combined our magic, we could stop time for a little bit. And that’s pretty close to time travel.“

Wild fell asleep soon after that, but Hyrule was kept awake, ideas swirling through his head.

Time travel?

Hmmm….

~~~

There was no doubt in Wild or Hyrule’s minds that the Lon family was a coven. 

There was no other reason for seven mages to be living together, especially when most of them weren’t even related. (Everyone knew that Twilight was the only one of Time’s gaggle of children that was biologically his. Everyone knew that the man cared for them all equally anyways.)

Covens were groups of mages who had bound their magic together. The process of joining a coven made your magic more powerful. It came with the side effect of tying your soul permanently to your coven mates. If they died, it would feel like part of your soul was being torn out. But many found the risk was worth it for the increased power, and the promise of family. Because if nothing else, your coven was your family.

There weren’t any covens left in the time period the two had come from. After magic had been exposed to the world, and all mages were being hunted down to serve their governments, groups of mages congregating together became too dangerous.

The two had run into a few covens while they had been traveling. Some of the covens were generous to who they perceived as two covenless young mages with no guidance. Priceless knowledge could be learned from them. If Hyrule and Wild stuck-around long enough to be taught, that is.

Some covens were more secretive, barely acknowledging Hyrule and Wild also had magic. Neither of them could blame the covens that choose to disregard their shared magic. Even before magic had been revealed to the world, mages were secretive. (After seeing what happened when magic was finally revealed, Hyrule and Wild knew they were right to be.)

So, when the Lon family hadn't breathed a word about magic to them after they had been living there for six months, Hyrule and Wild knew better than to bring it up themselves. Both parties knew that the others were mages, but neither spoke of it. If the Lons didn’t want to bring up their magic, Wild and Hyrule certainly weren't going to do it either. 

Hyrule had been the first one to pick up on the fact that the family they were staying with was magical. He’d told Wild his suspicions the first night they’d stayed in the house. At the time, Wild hadn’t cared. But the longer the pair stayed with the family, the more convinced Wild became that Hyrule was right. 

There were the little things that were just unnatural enough to be noticed. The garden was too well kept for how little time the family spent tending to it. Somehow the flowers continued to bloom and the grass remained lush and green long after the autumn frost had started to set in. The food the family had available was too high quality for this time period, especially for people who lived in the woods with the nearest town being barely more than a village. Somehow the house was kept spotless, though neither of them ever saw anyone cleaning.

Then there were the bigger things. Hyrule had caught both Wind and Four having full conversations with no one, speaking into thin air as if they were talking with spirits. There was the strangely tame wolf who only seemed to turn up around the house when Twilight was gone. There was the chest full of enchanted masks that Time kept under his bed. 

There was all that- the big things, the little things, and all things in between- and then there was the fact that Wild was quite sure the family could see past their glamor magic. 

Normally, the magic they surrounded themselves with disguised both their clothes and their modern mannerisms. It translated their words into something understandable to those who were listening. 

Although the coven had welcomed Hyrule and Wild into their home, they’d stared for too long at the pair's strange outfits. Most people’s eyes usually slid off their modern clothing without even seeing it in the first place. It was the same with modern terms and slang words. When Wild had slipped up and mentioned “texting” to Wind, the boy should have heard “writing a letter,” or something similar. Based on Wind’s confused face and the conversation Wild later overheard where Wind asked Warriors what a “text message” was, that hadn’t happened.

It was plain to see that the coven could see straight through their magic, but it was also plain that the coven was ignoring it, purposefully not mentioning their strange behavior, clothing, and language.

There was no way their host family actually understood why Wild and Hyrule acted so strangely- time travel wasn’t the first thing that popped into people’s heads when they saw someone acting strangely, even if they did know about magic. It was more likely the family thought that they were foreigners, and were using their magic to try and hide that fact.

Still…

Through their silence, the family had made it clear that they knew about Wild and Hyrule’s magic. It also made it clear that they weren’t going to bring it up. 

And if they weren’t going to, then Wild and Hyrule wouldn’t either.

~~~

“Hyrule, I think the tests are getting worse.”

“...”

“See, this is what I mean. Half the time you return from testing, you’re unconscious. It makes me look weird, talking out loud to no one like this.”

“...”

“I don’t know how much longer either of us can live like this, Hyrule. You can barely stay awake in the evenings, and I… I can’t remember what I did yesterday. My memories just keep slipping away, and it gets worse every time I get taken for experimentation. We need to find a way we can get out of here. Permanently.”

“...”

~~~

There wasn’t a singular moment that made Wild decide enough was enough. It had been coming for a while, that creeping feeling of dread that told him they had to leave soon if they wanted to be able to leave at all. They’d already become attached to this family so if they didn’t leave soon, they would never leave.

He knew it would already hurt more to leave this family than any other. Wild would miss cuddling near the fire with Wolfie, would miss cooking dinner every night for more than two people, would miss the loud camaraderie and the quiet companionship he had found in this house. 

But they had to leave. They didn’t belong here. 

Wild had had enough. He was leaving. And where he went, Hyrule went. 

It was an early spring night, nearly nine months after they had arrived. The whole family was gathered in the main room of the house, each absorbed in their own tasks. Hyrule was curled next to Legend and nearly half asleep. Wild was sitting on the floor in front of the chair Time was sitting in. His legs stretched out in front of him to put his feet near the warmth of the hearth, and Wild would almost say he was content, except for the little fact that he knew this peace couldn’t last.

He could tell Hyrule wasn’t happy when Wild shot him that look. The look that said, “I’m done, I can't do this anymore, We have to go.” Hyrule glared back at Wild and then closed his eyes, ignoring Wild on purpose. 

Looks like they would be talking about it later, then. (Not that they could talk about it now, given that they were in a room with seven other people.) Wild leaned back against Time’s legs. He looked nonchalant, as if the exchange the two had didn’t happen, but there was tension in him now, because now he knew they were on their way out of this house and the lives of its inhabitants.

It turns out “later” means that very night, after everyone else had gone to bed.

Hyrule might have been acting like he was unhappy with Wild’s decision, but he knew just as well as Wild did that it was time to leave. They barely had to exchange words before they were both packing up the belongings they were going to take with them. 

They left behind most of the things they had gained while they were staying here. They wouldn’t need most of it, and they didn’t want to steal from the Lon family. They had been so kind to them, they didn’t deserve to have the two of them steal from them. 

Soon, everything they were going to take with them was packed up. They stood shoulder to shoulder in their room, looking down at the bed they’d been sharing for the last nine months.

Eventually, Hyrule turned to Wild. “Ready?‘ he whispered.

“Yes,” Wild lied. Neither of them moved for quite some time, neither wanting to make the first move to leave.

This time, it was Wild who broke the silence. He shuffled over to their mattress, lifting it up and pulling the Slate out from under it. They hadn’t needed it while they’d been staying here, but now they had a use for it again. “Do you think we’ll ever find a place we’ll want to stay forever?”

“I doubt it. If that was going to happen, it would have happened already.” Hyrule murmured back to him, not meeting his eyes.

“You’re probably right.” Wild flicked the Slate in the direction of their belonging, sucking them into the Slate to be safely stored away until they needed them again. 

With that, they turned to each other, instinctually getting into position to cast their spell. Wild could see Hyrule’s grip on the Slate was so tight his knuckles were bone-white. He didn’t look up, knowing if he did, he would see tears trickling down Hyrule’s face. 

“Now,” he whispered.

In a shower of blue sparks, the two disappeared, gone from the lives of the Lon coven forever. 

[dragonageinsanity]

For those of you who don't have a Game Stop Magazine Subscription, here's the latest article on Dragon Age Veilguard. Kudos to the Author, Wesley Leblanc, who spent a ten hour day with Bioware's team to create this article.

If you like it please subscribe to Game Stop Magazine cause they genuinely do some good editorial work! I've been subscribed for a long time and never have had one that doesn't at least have one article that speaks to me.

This article has a lot of interesting points, and a couple of things I haven't seen talked about yet. Some neat things to note:

They talk to multiple people in the article such as John Epler (Creative Director), Matt Rhodes (Art Director), and Mark Darrah (who has become a consultant on the project! I don't think I've seen that mentioned before?).

Confirmation on the Elven Gods we've released with our messing with the ritual : Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain - Yikes!!

ALSO,,, mentioned on a further page about the Elven Gods being BLIGHTED????? Bioware what do you MEAN. How the hell could they have become BLIGHTED. Is it a being in the fade thing?? Is it a being in the golden city thing?????? I'm so CONFUSED.

Talk about the Magical Lighthouse that's going to be the base of operations like Skyhold. Looks like it's another of Solas' hideouts we're taking over, but this one is firmly in the fade. Which is hella interesting, I know that you can have sections in the fade that are different but a specifically bubbled part of the fade to separate it off from the rest so he can have a stronghold that's unfindable is incredible. Also, cute picture of everyone around the table. But no Varric - I really think they're gonna kill him off guys, oof.

Also possible confirmation that Solas' will be working with us? He points out the lighthouse and talks to Rook about what he was doing,,, which yo what kind of Prison was he putting them in instead?

Interesting points brought up about Rook and why he's the main character. "Rook is here because they chose to be, and that speaks to the kind of character we've built. Someone needs to stop this and Rook says I guess that's me." and "Rook ascends because of competency and not a magical macguffin." are both quotes from the article about him. Interesting dichotomy from Inquisition's character, who was very forced into the role. (And frankly the other DA main characters, all of them did not choose to become what they ended up being.)

Also side note, one throw away line on page four says about because Rooks blood got in the ritual he's connected to the fade forever??? That's some suspicious thing right there. What do you mean Bioware??????

I might post the pictures from the article in a separate post. They're really pretty. (Also the cover art for the article, I wasn't able to fit it here too. Tumblr limitations on photos 😞.)

[sepdet]

Have you SEEN the original moon landing feed, especially the scary bit near the end?

Now stay with me. I grew up hearing about these few minutes from my parents (in fact I took the TV they watched it on to grad school; DS9 and Babylon5 worked well in b&w).

This is even crazier than it looks like.

My parents were both scientists, my grandmother a planetarium director, and my dad was just about to land his job at a rocket company that built 95 small rockets that were part of the UpGoer Saturn V. (Yeah. Just the small ones. Saturn V was a BEAST.)

So my parents had a fair idea how dangerous this was, how Neil going manual was a bad sign, and just how close he was to running empty and crashing. They knew the problem that every ounce of fuel you carry requires even more fuel to lift off, so the Eagle was built light, carrying no excess weight even in fuel (it had to lift off the Moon with no rocket, after all).

But they didn't learn until years later just how jury-rigged and bespoke Apollo technology was. Every vehicle and part was designed like a Mythbusters build: extremely customized for the procedures it had to accomplish, using parts and even technology invented for specific mission tasks.

rope memory, predecessor to modern silicon chips: 1s and 0s woven by women (of course) at a Massachusetts textile plant

At the time, computers were the size of rooms and very touchy. Apollo's computer memory was core rope memory, never used before or since, to save space. The read/write guidance computer, too, was woven: physical media could better survive the rigors of space travel. (I suspect even my parents don't know it also used some of the very first integrated circuits, soldered by hand under a microscope by Navajo women).

Spacesuits were (and still are) designed and hand-stitched by Playtex bramakers. The lunar rovers' wheels were titanium meshes woven with piano wire to let dust through, and even had a clever navigation system despite no GPS or magnetic north.

They couldn't test these rigs with computer modeling. They didn't know for sure what the moon's surface would be like, apart from basic parameters like low gravity and near vacuum and a temperature ranging from 250°F in the sun to -250° in the shade. And it was nearly impossible to test for or practice in those conditions on Earth.

And then there were the unknowns. A massive solar flare between Apollo 16 and 17 might have killed or sickened them too much to operate their ship.

While the spacesuit and to some extent the rover design carried on, a lot of these hacks were so unusual that they might as well be alien tech. (I'm sorry woven technology fell out of vogue for several decades.) That goes some way towards explaining why humans haven't left Earth orbit since I was two.

The other problem, of course, is expense. Tech for human space exploration requires as much R&D and testing as fighter planes, which have developed through a century of multiple countries' military budgets. Human space programs are lucky to last two presidents; the next president usually doesn't think giving glory to his predecessor is a good use of money.

So for 40 years, NASA has mostly worked with other countries on human spaceflight or built robot explorers that can be launched in 3-4 years before Congress or the president can axe the program. They're less likely to shut down a mission when 99.99% of the money's been spent, and all that's left to do is download data and uplink occasional instructions.

TL:DR; Congress and the White House keep flashing the equivalent of that computer error message, every time NASA gets ready to send humans into space again. Overload. Abort mission.

Unless, you know, American citizens start saying Go. Go. Go. Go. We have some pretty important priorities down here on Earth (which Amazon and Disney and oil companies should be footing the bill for, though they try not to), but I bet the military can cough up the cost of a few fighter jets.

[gamfart]

i was looking at your robot master/ megaman oc ideas and i really love them its fun to look at the process do you have anymore to share?

I'm sorry for just seeing this! I don't get notifs about my inbox and I rarely go on here so seeing this was really swell to see.

But yesss I have so many megaman ocs!! I realized I didn't post any of them on here look back on my archives now so here's all what I can dig up and share! I'll probably be reuploading the same pics I used on my previous post, but there is wayyy more I kept away in the vault on this one.

I'll put a keep reading tab for those who are interested in taking a peek and a gander. I haven't went back to these ocs in a while, I'll see if I can make a proper ref for some of them in the future if I have the time..

Snow Woman (name pending)

An ice related robot master that's was created to try to generate snow to help prevent the ice caps melting. A lot of her concept art and design was based off of Chill Man's old concept art. I also just wanted to make a female robot master that was humongous. She's however tall Frost Man is in terms of height.

Last image is her most recent sketch

Steam Woman & Angel Man (name pending)

Both of them are one of the first robot master oc's I made. I lump them in together bc some of the art I have of them happen to have both of them in it.

Steam woman is very heavily steampunk themed hence the name and design. She's an old robot master model that operates with steam generation and was remade with the intention to show off that feature and as a possible alternative for robot masters to be built buy.

Her personality has changed over time, she used to just be sweet and cute, but over time she became a bit more zany and slightly more menacing.

Angel man I've been thinking about changing his name to Seraph Man or something else entirely. Maybe just make him a robot master with just one name and get rid of the ____ man motif just because in my own brain I made his role to be more important than just a simple robot master.

He doesn't remember his own origins or why he was built in the first place, but knows that he's built to help and save people. His eye is all fucked up because it ties into his memory issues.

Art from 2017 - 2019:

Recent sketches of Steam Woman:

Shell Woman & Pearl Woman

Shell Woman and Pearl Woman were both designed together as a duo to document the wildlife in the sea. They have more of a parental/mentor relationship with each other.

I used to characterize her as sorta shy, but over time I've revisited her, I dabbled with the idea of Pearl Woman being more bratty and abrasive to contrast her cute and bubbly design recently.

They're both interested in music but Shell Woman is more into Classics and Opera and Pearl Woman is more into Rock/Pop music.

Quarry Man

A robot master made to navigate the quarries. Honestly I'm really unsatisfied with his design so I've left it alone for a good while. I've been meaning to revisit it someday though.

I dabbled in giving him a possible romance with Shell Woman but that's about it.

Flamingo Man & Phoenix Man

Kind of a joke character I made a while ago. I thought about giving him ties to Phoenix Man in the story maybe? Like have them be the same robot but with a different alter-ego. But I like them better as separate character's so I dropped that idea.

I think the current lore is that the blue prints for Flamingo Man was used as a basis for Phoenix man to be made. Flamingo Man is a dance instructor and Phoenix Man's purpose was to take down Mega Man, but after he was defeated he reformed and is doing his own thing.

Ghost Man (name pending)

Have not revisited this guy in a while. For some reason the idea of the Yellow Devil's properties being used for other robot masters really appealed to me. I also just wanted an excuse to find a way to incorporate scythes into his design. All Ghost Man does is patrol around graveyards to make sure nobody vandalizes or causes trouble there.

Topaz Woman

A very recent robot master design I made. The idea has always been on my mind though, I just haven't had the chance to put it onto paper. Her theme is a psychic/clairvoyant. She's able to assets the probability of a future decision when asked. I just settled on Topaz just because I couldn't settle on any other name regiment that wouldn't make her sound awkward.

MISC. SKETCHES

Misc. Robot master designs that I explored but never settled on anything. Plus a bonus select screen that I tried to make.

That's the end of that!! Thank you for reading all of this if you had the chance. I reached the image limit, but I think I shared all that I had on me for now! You really hit a big hyperfix of mine that I never have shared until now because my perfectionist ass didn't want to share at the time. So I hope you enjoyed this master post lol.

[mooncalfe-art]

Weird question, please bear with me.

So I was in the turtle group chat talking about different methods of turtle shell repair, as one does, and then I remembered Donnie's Terrible, Rotten, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day and his metal shell.

Seeing as a turtle's shell IS their spine and a significant portion of their ribcage, does Donnie now also have a prosthetic metal spine and ribs? and all the Important Stuff that's in the spinal column - the nerves and the fluids and the like... I'm not really asking for you to explain the Deep Biology of mutant turtle skeletal structures, but I AM asking what is up with their spines - are the fused, separate, some secret third thing? inquiring minds want to know.

I think about this same thing every so often, haha. Most artists (even Peter and Kevin back in the day) draw the Turtles with a flexible plastron unlike real turtles, which you can either chalk up to artistic license and cartooning, or you can take it more literally to mean that the Turtles have a more human-type skeleton and their plastron and shell are more spongy sort of armor plating rather than bone like real-life turtles. If I was the only one working on TMNT I'd probably delve more into the biology of it and have it at the outset that the carapace is part of their skeleton and is rigid like real turtles, but it's impossible to set that kind of thing up in a series with a ton of people working on it and expect it to remain the same across the board, so I usually just don't worry about it. I'm also kind of boxed in a bit by Donatello losing his shell and, thanks to the ooze, somehow receiving a new one that Fugitoid I guess just sticks onto Don's back and he's good to go. There's a panel in that particular issue (I forget which one it was) where Don is about to be operated on and he's lying on his back on the medical bed, but I always wondered what's under his shell, then? If he has no shell I'm guessing it was a huge exposed wound, and if so why is he lying ON the giant gaping wound?! Haha. And then it's like if the Turtles' carapace is flexible in IDW TMNT, that must mean it's NOT part of their skeletal system and in that case why would Don even need a new shell? Clearly thinking too deeply about it, haha.

In any case, since I took over as writer, I've tried to go by those rules that Tom set up as much as I can, like when I had Don's old broken shell (which Tom never accounted for, where did it go after Fugitoid removed it??? So I decided to draw the old shell having been tossed into a dumpster, lol) be attached to Venus, like if the surgeon has a healing agent like ooze or the Dragon scales the way Fugitoid and Dr. Barlow did, it seems like they can just graft components (whether organic or inorganic) onto anyone however they like regardless of what the internal mutant biology is. In Venus's flashback in my Alliance #4 issue, I did draw her spinal column visible when the shell is being grafted on though, sort of as a nod to the skeletal system thing but not explicitly solidifying the biology of it.

Another way I think about it is that mutants haven't undergone any sort of evolution as a species, their biology doesn't have to "make sense" or be useful in a natural selection evolutionary way. The mutagen kinda removes all the specialized traits from an animal, so the Turtles' carapaces have lost whatever traits gave rise to regular turtles' shells over millions of years. Mutants are outside the evolutionary process, so the Turtles' shells don't have to be biologically useful or advantageous or even really have anything in common with normal turtles. The mutagen reconfigures an animal into humanoid form and it'll recode their DNA to any extent to acheive that end result, so maybe it built the Turtles' a new skeletal system and their shells are purely vestigial.

I feel like I'm getting way too deep here and it only makes it more confusing, lol. So to answer your question, if I had to pick one of the options you listed, I would pick "secret third thing." ;)

[legacydevice]

Do you know what old pc I should get for retro gaming?

Thanks for the question! Keep in mind that this is written from the assumption that you have no/very basic knowledge of older computers, so I apologize if this comes off a bit patronizing! Even if you know quite a bit, other people reading may not and I want to make sure people are knowledgeable before making a purchase!

If you dont care about hardware, and your current pc can handle it, I'd recommend setting up a VM with the operating system of your choice (windows xp would probably have the most flexibility). Look up a tutorial on how to set up a VM with VirtualBox, and you can easily find .iso files of your operating system of choice online. (Obviously be careful of what you download). This is also convenient because if you dont own physical copies of your games it's pretty easy to get the files from the internet archive and transfer them to the VM! If you need any more help with this, feel free to send me an ask and I can help you out!

If you're a hardware lover like me though, I definitely understand wanting to have the experience of the real thing! Please keep in mind im not totally educated about specs and technical stuff, so take my opinion with a grain of salt and look for others input as well (followers please add on / correct me)!

A lot of it depends on the kind of games you want to run, if you're fine with only 2d games you should be fine with most computers that have an appropriate cpu/ram for the year it was made! However, running 3d games will definitely need a good gpu. There are plenty of people on ebay who sell custom built computers geared towards retro gaming, I'd recommend looking into listings of those even if you do not want to buy on eBay just to get an idea of what you would like!

I personally use Facebook marketplace to look for old computers that I want to buy. A lot of times you can get pretty good deals on there! While not a gaming oriented computer, I got my micron millennia, including the crt monitor, keyboard, mouse, and speakers all for $80! It also runs pretty much any games I want to play on there, but I haven't tried any beefier 3d games yet so I'm not sure how it will do with those. You can also check local thrift stores around you as well, I've been able to find a Dell optiplex for $40 once before. I would recommend local shops rather than goodwills since most goodwills usually sell their good stuff online for auction, but it doesn't hurt to check if you're feeling lucky!

Keep in mind that buying locally very much depends on if you can drive/have access to a car, so I totally understand if this isn't an option for you. I also have only ever lived in the US so your buying options will probably be different if you are in another country. If you know of any local retro tech enthusiast groups, they could probably help you out specific to your location! Again, Facebook is a good resource to find local groups.

The other option is buying from eBay. It will be more expensive because of shipping but you can at least get something more geared to your specifics and it's more convenient if you do not have access to transportation. Searching up something like "custom retro gaming pc" or "vintage gaming pc" should help you out!

Also, if this is your first time buying an old computer, or you do not have any experience with technology repair, you may want to buy from someone who has that experience and has already refurbished the computer for you. Blown capacitors and shitty power supplies are no joke, they can be very dangerous! If you absolutely need a computer that is advertised as not working/not tested, take it to someone who knows what they're doing before plugging it in. Again, I apologize if this comes off as patronizing but I want to make sure everyone is safe and no one has any bad experiences that may turn away people from this hobby!

Another recommendation I'd give is to get something you like! I know this might be a bit obvious, but I really like windows 98 because of nostalgia reasons, and my roommate would often ask me why I didn't get a pc with windows XP. Personally all the games I want to play run fine on 98, and i'm willing to use a VM for games that need XP. Get something that makes you happy if it is within your budget and convenient for you!

I apologize if this is a bit rambly! I'm waiting for an oil change and im bored lol. Other people feel free to add on and im willing to answer more questions if needed :)

[variousqueerthings]

I have watched the Christmas Special I am allowed back on the tumbls.

thoughts! nd a little feelings!

we're really starting in on the ideas of the season - magic and science as one, belief as a power, things somewhat to the left of conventional reality, tricksters (and eventually gods), and those are simply some of my favourite things!

on that note, the song that the doctor and ruby sing very similar to how donna beat that one part of the toymaker's maze

this may be the most of a musical episode we get, but I think we should still have a full one -- confirmed both ncuti and millie can sing so...

themes of family as not a biological decree, but as choice and luck and what you decide to call family

(how big is the ruby-is-susan's-child fan theory?)

I also note that introducing a companion with a mystery in this is different than back in m*ffat-era, when it was from the doctor's perspective of wanting to solve the companion, rather than be with the companion and have the companion involved in the mystery (companion as plot point rather than as character), whereas this time around it's ruby's mystery, and in fact the doctor stepped back from figuring it out which is... interesting

some things as foreshadowing: ruby's birth-mother as mystery, themes of family as mentioned - created, found, lost perhaps? - that tie ruby's past with the doctor as the timeless child possibly eventually in a very tangible way (susaaan), how easily one can change reality (mavity just came back, which feels like a small example of how easy it is, alongside the toymaker in the last episode, and the goblins going back in time and stealing ruby in this one), how different beings operate under different laws than ours...

ncuti is giving perfect doctor, as we knew, but I think it deserves to be said! also a tried and true doctor deflection moment of "I've got no one" and then Moving On -- because this episode (and I hazard a guess, season) is so family-focused, I assume there'll be a return to all of that. definitely giving benevolent trickster in a universe of malevolent trickster feel (right before he said that maybe he's the bad luck, I was saying that he's the good luck bringer, which was a fun coincidence...)

I like ruby. I think there's a lot of space to gauge still, as this episode did a lot to give us her background (and a bit of her personality, which is obviously very companion-type), but I'm not quite sure how much millie gibson sticks out to me on her own, especially opposite someone as Big as ncuti gatwa. I wasn't initially a fan of casting another young actor (and then I thought, oh she might be playing someone younger, like yasmin finney did, invoking characters like zoe or ace, but then they haven't done that either), so I'm still a bit on the fence in terms of how she's going to set herself apart from a majority of attractive young white women that play companions, apart from the backstory itself, because so far I'd say... kind of a shrug, yeah she's fine, but she's not super memorable. that being said this is early days -- her background is well-built, she's very much Of A New Generation, which I'm guessing is why they went with someone around this age and they've made sure to represent in various scenes, I like that she's Mancunian, I like the scenes between her and her family. so yeah, I like her, I think currently that she's sweet. also millie gibson has quite a bit of background considering how young she is, and specifically won awards for her work on coronation street, which, I always feel like rtd works well with bringing out the best kind of emotions from actors who've been on soaps, makes me hope for Bigger, which I think DW (and rtd) is good at getting from people

spire through the goblin king's stomach. brutal

on the flipside, the christmas-star death seemed a bit intense, so am glad the doctor saved davina mccall

oh yeah, and the neighbour woman... there was that too. mysteries

fun episode. I'm never expecting brilliance from a christmas special, just fun! and I had very good fun! and also mysteries...

[overwatch-archive]

Ramattra: Reflections

Author: Gavin Jurgens Fyhrie Artist: Sylvain Decaux

Philosophical Differences

4 Years Before the Uprising

"You're a Ravager unit, right?" called a human behind me, and I froze, hands shaking beneath my robes.

The village beneath the Shambali monastery had barely changed since my last visit. A few cheery repair shops and tailors along the main road, specializing in robes for omnic travelers. In the alleyways and backstreets, shuttered shops. Mining offices. Humans drinking on doorsteps, watching the occasional omnic pass them by.

A handful of years ago, some of those same humans had knocked me to my knees and nearly killed me.

I turned instead to the human who had called me by my designation, fists clenched in my sleeves, and said nothing.

"Thought so," said the little shopkeeper happily. "Haven't seen one of you in a while. The news said you were all in hiding."

"Or dead at human hands," I said.

The human's smile faltered.

"You aren't a popular bunch. Not that I'm saying it's right," he added hastily. "But . . . what with everything you—and I don't mean you exactly—did in the Crisis, you, uh . . ."

I waited, then reluctantly came to his rescue.

"Make humans uncomfortable?"

"Exactly," he said, relieved.

Uncomfortable enough to justify violence, I thought. I should have been angry with him. Instead, I was weary. I'd had this conversation so many times.

"Can I help you?" I asked. The words were a relic of Mondatta's careful instruction.

"No," he said, "but I can help you! Thing is, I got a new shipment of actuators in for your kind. Can get you a nice discount, seeing as you're part of the Shambali and all."

He smiled. Warm gold flashed at the back of his grin.

R-7000s, unlike many other omnics, were never made by human hands. The rogue god program Anubis, the architect of the Omnic Crisis, built us in secret places and unleashed us upon the world. We were designed to lead its mindless armies, to hunt humans. We were made for murder.

There was only one way that spare parts had become available.

"I'm no longer a monk," I said. "I left the monastery today."

"Is that right?" the merchant said, glancing past me, down the street, down the mountain. I heard footsteps scraping on pavement. "Why?"

Because Mondatta places the burden of peace on the oppressed and not their oppressors.

"Philosophical differences," I said instead. "It seemed best. "

"Well, good luck to you, and safe travels!" he said. "You there! Welcome to the Shambali monastery."

I turned. A weary omnic pilgrim, stained orange by dust, scarred and dented, stumbled up the road past me. Seeing me in my robes, he lowered his head in respect.

The pain of it, the shame. The sight of me told him he was on the right path. I fought the urge to tell him that he wasn't. It wouldn't make a difference, even if I did.

I watched the shopkeeper come off his step, chattering, bundling the traveler into his shop.

Greed. Yet another of humanity’s crimes, but hardly their most terrible.

I sighed and continued down the road, down the mountain, away from the monastery.

And from my brother, Zenyatta, with whom I’d spent these last three years dreaming of peace.

Names

3 Years Before the Uprising

Two human guards blocked the windowless cell door. Both had stun batons, and a pistol hung from the hip of the larger man.

"I'll give you one chance to run," I said, hoping they wouldn't.

Some segments of humanity had decided that despite the Crisis, despite sentience, their former omnic servants were still their property. That our status as independent beings was somehow still a subject for debate. Hence facilities like this one existed, where omnics were kept until they decided that service to their former masters was the best use of their long lives.

Since leaving the Shambali monastery, I'd rooted out several identical operations, but there were always more festering. I'd come here hoping to free my people as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, after encountering the same injustice over and over again, my patience with peace was wearing thin. I'd gotten angry, thrown a man through a window, and here we were.

The first guard swung his baton. It bounced off my chest with a pop.

I took a step toward him.

Pale, he dropped the baton and went for his gun. Behind him, the other human struggled with the locked door, trying to escape. Or maybe to take a hostage.

Damn it.

I slapped the gun out of the guard's hand. As gently as I did it, something snapped. Again, I felt the ghost of guilt, the mournful weight of Mondatta's eyes on me. And following that, anger. Oppressors did not deserve the gift of our guilt.

The door flew open, and the other guard barreled through. Electrical light flared again, and someone screamed.

"Remember that I could have killed you," I told the human on the ground and plunged through the door to disarm the guard.

Oh.

The bald man already lay facedown on the tile, unmoving. His clothes were smoking in places. It wasn’t at all clear if he was breathing.

"I know who you are," came a voice from the corner of the small, bare room.

"Do you?" I asked, honestly curious. The omnic was a rarer kind, highly customized with features I thought hadn't survived the Crisis. Slightly shorter than myself, but blue-eyed and with ears rather like a slender humanoid rabbit. Made as a companion for children, if I remembered correctly, with a built-in battery for charging devices and taking pictures.

"Yeah, they said. You're the R-7000 who's been freeing omnics. Some of the others were hoping you'd make it here."

"But not you?"

"I can take care of myself."

The human made a burbling sound somewhere near my feet.

"I believe you," I said. "What did you do to him?"

"Electrical burst. Not a big deal."

"I think he'd disagree. So why haven't you escaped on your own?"

The omnic huffed. "And leave my friends behind? Waiting for a rescue that might never come?"

"I'm here now," I said, a little puzzled.

The omnic shook their head, thoughtful.

"Your model bossed us around in the Crisis. Sent us to die before we even had a thought in our heads."

My hand twitched at my side, but I nodded.

"So, is that what this is?" they said. "You still have a taste for glory? Ordering your soldiers around?"

"Do you still follow children around like an obedient pet?" I said, more sharply than I'd intended.

They half chuckled. "Fair. But the point stands. Our people are waiting for a savior when they should be saving themselves."

I agreed with this. It's why I was here. I'd seen enough in this year on walkabout to know that most of our people rested on the hope that Mondatta and the Shambali would save them. It seemed the truth—that no one was coming, that the people themselves needed to rise—was too much to bear.

But here was this omnic, saying the words that my mind had been shouting.

"And if they die?" I asked.

The omnic cocked their head.

"We're still at war," they said. "Didn't stop because the Crisis did. Difference is, humans are still organized. We aren't."

"Not yet," I said. The words felt like a promise. "Introductions, then. My name is Ramattra. Yours?"

"Don't have a name, don't want one. Call me Nameless if it gets awkward for you. What's Ramattra mean?"

"I chose it to honor the first of our kind and kept it to remember my mistakes."

"Huh," said Nameless. "If you're breaking everyone out, I'm coming with you."

"Beg pardon?"

"We should get Zera next. You'll see why. And if we're banding together, we need a name."

"Isn't that hypocritical?" I said dryly.

They snickered.

I glanced at the omnic's flank, at the scarring there, where a model number, a designation, had once been.

If I could have smiled, I would have.



Weapons of War

2 Years Before the Uprising

I led the three of them across the valley and down into the metal gateway, half-buried by thick slabs of ice and stone. We were silent as humans in a graveyard, and for much the same reason.

We reached the bottom of the gateway, a metal platform sheathed in ice. I turned to Lanet.

I could sense her mind racing ahead of mine, studying what little technology was visible of the facility at this level. I was a passable engineer, but she made me look like a human child playing with blocks.

"I know where we are," she said. "Unorthodox architecture. Lack of human safety features. Built by machines for machines. Similar to your design aesthetics."

She looked up.

"An omnium. Built by Anubis." Silence.

I laid a hand on the platform controls.

"For years we have tried nonviolence, coexistence with the humans, only fighting the worst forms of our oppression from the shadows," I said. "And we are losing. It is time to try something new."

I activated the platform, and with a jolt, we descended into the frozen darkness, through a shaft of ice.

"Of all the omnics I've brought into Null Sector," I said, "you are the ones I trust the most. And so . . . this is where I was designed and built. This is the cradle of Anubis's most dangerous secrets."

The corridor fell away, and they saw the vast underground factory.

"Humanity denies us equality because they have so successfully stripped us of our power. They made us forget that, when united—even if united against our will—we once brought them to the brink of extinction."

This was the world my maker had made, and together we would use it to forge a new future.

"It is time we inspire our people to find that unity again."



Rise Up

4 Days Before the Uprising

"Ramattra," Lanet said, using that tone again.

"There is no time," I said, pacing across the omnium's control center. Below, the assembly lines labored, building our robotic army.

"What do you mean, there's no . . . we're following your schedule!" she shouted, pursuing me, throwing her arms in the air. "You can attack any city anywhere, and you're choosing King's Row and choosing now, and I'm telling you the robots you're getting from the lower levels of the omnium aren't ready. They're old, Ramattra. They're obsolete."

"You think you can design better soldiers than Anubis?"

"I hope so, because we want to win, and your maker lost."

I gripped the edges of the table to calm my temper. She was infuriating because she was so often right, but she was wrong now.

"We can't afford to wait for better soldiers. Look." I activated the bank of screens before us. Images and footage from London appeared, gathered over the years our cells had been active there.

Omnic laborers trudging in a single-file line to their work, watched by armed human guards.

"Next feed," I commanded, and the image changed.

A hundred of our people lying in a locked basement. Their home, at the end of a thankless day.

"Next feed."

A scrapyard. And there, discarded like the trash humans thought we were—

"We know," Zera said. "She isn't saying we shouldn't fight."

I flinched. It was the same thing I'd said to Zenyatta when we'd met, and not long before I'd nearly gotten him killed.

"Give me and Nameless a week," Zera continued, taking my silence for hesitation. "My cell can take down their power grid and water supplies, and Nameless's shadows can seize the tunnels. Kill anyone stupid enough to go down there. Once they're weakened, you come in with your robots, and we'll take the borough. Maybe more."

I met Nameless's blue gaze at the corner of the room. The omnic who knew me better than anyone, save for my brother.

"You know we're right," they said. "We built the resistance there together. Let the people be a part of it. Let them be the ones to rise up, like we always dreamed they would. An invasion won't inspire them—it will scare them off."

I hesitated again.

"No," I said at last. Beside me, Lanet struck the table with her fist.

"Ramattra, these robots are mindless drones. They're outdated! They're—"

"Expendable," I finished. "And you are not. Our people are not."

Lanet's eyes flickered.

"Fine," she said. "But I'll be in the city, overseeing the deployment and watching for malfunctions, and you know I know better, so stop arguing."

"Fine," I said. "You'll stay in the Underworld, where our defenses will be strongest."

After a moment, she nodded, and I relaxed a fraction.

"During this uprising, we will show the humans we are stronger than they thought. We establish a stronghold in one of their cruelest cities, and we make a safe place for our people. We will show omnics everywhere that now is the time to join us. That is the goal."

I turned back to the footage of the scrapyard, where too many of my people lay.

"It is time for omnics to discover who Null Sector truly is."

The Greatest Crime

2 Days After the Uprising

"A small group of omnic terrorists, calling themselves Null Sector," said Mondatta sorrowfully on the screen before me. The human reporter on camera nodded with theatrical sympathy as my former master continued. "The monks of Shambali condemn this attack on London. We seek peace with humanity, not violence."

My eyes fell again to the words scrolling beneath his image.

NULL SECTOR RINGLEADER KILLED DURING POWER PLANT FIREFIGHT.

Fury descended. I remembered omnics sitting meekly in their cells, waiting for freedom. The vast rolling scrapyards of the dead.

And now, Mondatta dishonoring Lanet, who died fighting to free her people.

Someone was shouting. Someone was striking the screen with their fist.

Someone was begging me to stop.

"Ramattra! Please!"

I spun around, fist raised, and Zera stood motionless, making no move to defend herself. Nameless, far off in their usual corner of the too-empty room, looked up from their screen to stare at me, hard, and I froze at the pain of what I'd nearly done. The shame.

I looked up at the cracked screen. Bracketed by the damage stood Mondatta, flickering and still, naming us traitors to the omnic people.

The hypocrisy.

"Do you know," I muttered, "what humanity's greatest crime is?"

Zera stared down at me, shaking her head.

"I've had enough," she started, but I didn't let her finish. I flipped back around to face her, the anger surging through me again.

"Complacency!" I shouted. "They desire peace above all, and so they ignore injustice because it is more comfortable to do so. They want to believe tomorrow will be better simply because they hope it will be. Humanity will never help us. They will try to sell us a small place in their world, or at best, ignore us. And they have passed their weaknesses to him."

I pointed back at Mondatta because I couldn't bear to look at him again.

"He holds himself above us. Like Anubis, Mondatta is sending our people to their deaths. He must pay for this and—"

"Ramattra," said Nameless, speaking at last. "I'm checking reports. A lot of omnics are condemning us."

I put a hand to my forehead. My thoughts felt hot, poisonous. I had to say them aloud before they turned on me.

"If omnics are choosing death," I said carefully, "we must take that choice away."

My friends said nothing at first.

"What does that mean?" asked Nameless flatly.

"It means that I will build the army Lanet wanted," I said. "And then we will find a way to save our people, whether they want it or not. Whether they deserve it or not. If they will not willingly join us, we will find a way to make them."

"Ramattra, this isn't the way," Zera said, striving for calm and failing. More omnics will join us once the dust settles.

"They had their chance, and it cost Lanet her life."

Zera's giant hand closed into a fist at her side. "You freed us from a prison, and now you want us to put our people in one?"

"If that's what it takes to make them listen!"

Nameless uncoiled from their corner, eyes burning.

"You told me," they said, their voice low, a warning, "you told me this wasn't about control."

"Look at us," I snapped. "Fighting humans in bodies they shaped for us. Inheriting their flaws, their pointless disagreements. It doesn't have to be this way."

"It isn't your decision!" Nameless shouted back. "And I won't be part of it!"

"Then leave!" The words shot out of me, and I couldn't take them back.

Nameless straightened.

"Fine," they said quietly. "I've been away from my shadows long enough anyway. Coming, Zera?"

"Don't," I said.

"Then don't do this," Nameless said.

"You'll understand once I'm done."

Nameless came to me and patted my hand, a human gesture. It was infuriating.

"I hope you understand one day," they said, "that you didn't have to fight alone."

And then Nameless and Zera were gone.

I stood in the deepening silence a moment, feeling the absence of my companions, the impossible weight of metal and ice and stone above. A grave for our dream of peace.

And then, I got to work.

[trainsinanime]

Sometimes I wish I still used Twitter (until I remember what that place was like), because some news items just deserve immediate "holy shit" commentary. Like this. DB Cargo UK is getting rid of most of its remaining fleet of electric locomotives, and replacing them with diesels with "sustainable" fuels. They call it a bold decision, but they make it clear that this is due to market forces.

This decision will increase carbon dioxide emissions from the British rail sector, at the same time as the British government has given out new licenses for drilling for oil and gas in the North Sea. That little country is insistent on making global warming worse, not better.

It is easy to criticise DB Cargo UK for this decision, and I think we should, especially us German tax payers who ultimately own this company. I don't care if this is a good economic decision, it is bad globally.

But at the same time we must also place a lot of blame with the British government. The UK famously has way too little rail electrification. Only a few big mainlines are electrified, and those are so busy with passenger trains that freight often can't use them all that much anyway. New electrification projects either haven't happened at all or have been severely cut back (e.g. the Great Western Mainline which is still not fully electrified), and various conservative governments have said, "biofuel is way cheaper than electrification in the short term, so we should do that" for years now.

Over the past 25 years, literally thousands of new electric locomotives have been built by Bombardier (now Alstom) and Siemens for the European continent. There are entire websites dedicated to listing all of them. And none of those operate in the UK.

The total number of new UK electric freight locomotives in the past 25 years is 10 (with sixty more on order), none of which were run by DB Cargo UK. Compare that to 500 new diesel locomotives (class 66 alone) over the same time frame, many of which are run by DB Cargo UK (Also compare that to 400 new electrics for Austria alone, divided between class 1016, 1116, 1216 and 1293).

The class 90 electrics that DB Cargo UK is getting rid of are from the late 1980s, and at 30 years, they are getting on in age, with more and more maintenance required. Getting rid of them isn't weird, weird is that they're being replaced with diesels instead of electrics. And if the UK government isn't willing to spend the money on the necessary infrastructure, then more diesel locomotives rather than fewer is inevitable.

This is nowhere near the first of these announcements, by the way. Plenty of other British rail companies have gotten rid of some or all of their electrics already. Even DB Cargo UK has sold some of their machines before this. You will find a lot of former British machines in Romania or Hungary, which have the same electrification system, and crucially, enough electrified lines where you can make good use of these machines.

So, yeah. Things in the UK suck. If you live in the UK and can vote there, maybe consider changing things, perhaps.

[andiwriteordie]

I love sending you asks (hope it doesn't bother you) (I might have angst Mike thoughts when I'm more coherent) : you are INCREDIBLE thank you so much for the food !!! I absolutely live for the way you put Mike and his relationship with his firebending ! I am absolutely loving everything you said so far!!!

NICOOOOOOOO <33333

my fellow angst lover!!!! thank you, i'm so glad you've enjoyed the little mess of thoughts that i have about all this au lol!!!

ok *cracks knuckles* i will try my best to give you some good ole fashioned mike wheeler angst. if i've rambled about some of this already, no i haven't, just ignore me <3

let's talk about this universe's rain fight.

(the song i was listening to while writing this in case you wanted the vibes)

i think i've alluded to some of the ideas nic and i have had with the rain fight and how it all fits into this crazy little world we've built! with queer couples being more prominent in the avatar world, we'd kinda decided not to have the homophobic society be as big of a focus, but rather to mike's insecurities with his bending be what begins to cause that distance.

@messrsbyler we should probably go back and revisit this... eventually because we had good ideas there but ANYWAYS. nic and i had started to discuss what book 2 (the equivalent of parts of st s2 into st s3) would look like and just how will's possession type of arc would come into play there. because, as we all know, will's freed from the mind flayer's control through... yep. his family literally burning it out of him, and nancy burning his side with that metal rod.

i'm not gonna get into too much of the specifics here (mostly because we uh. haven't entirely figured them out yet lmfao), but let's just all operate under the assumption that because mike is also a firebender, both he and nancy are there when will is getting essentially tortured to free him from whatever is happening with the spirits.

did somebody say mike having extreme guilt and a negative perception of his firebending?

so now we flash forward a few months into book 3 (st s3/st s4 combined), and we see mike and will aren't quite as close as they used to be. because mike... can't. he just can't. he looks at will and replays that moment over and over again in his mind—nancy's fire, will's scream, mike's delayed reaction. it's like a broken record in his mind, and we see mike begin to battle with those existential questions about his bending. his bending has been such a core part of his identity for his whole life, and he's tried everything he possibly can to just be good at it. to live up to nancy's standards and to his parents' expectations. firebending has been everything to him, and it makes up so much of who mike is and how mike perceives himself.

firebending is destructive though. mike has always known this in the back of his mind. it comes with the territory of being a firebender. you're warned to be careful—to keep control of your element, lest you hurt somebody else. fire is wild, and if you're not careful, it will harm and it will destroy.

and if so much of who mike is, is tied to his firebending... what does that say about mike too?

it all comes to blows one day when will confronts him about their distance. mike has been avoiding him, and will's not stupid. plus, will has his own shit that he's going through, and somebody talk about miscommunication trope, because god knows will is over here feeling something like a mistake or something broken after what has happened to him. and the one person who has always been there for him, to remind him that he isn't broken, and to hold him close and remind him how to breathe again... that person is pulling away.

neither of them are very healthy, and neither of them are very good at communicating. so when they fight, they fight, and they throw around harsh words and accusations. words are spilling out of mike's mouth that he doesn't mean. they're just reflections of how he sees himself. he's projecting his insecurities onto will. and his words? they're a fire—untamable, dangerous, and destructive.

it's in that fight that mike crosses the line, and he loses control of his words and of his bending.

his words: "it's not my fault you can't bend anymore!"

his fire: igniting sparks as he moves his hands about, the way he does when he gets angry like this.

and his best friend, left burnt and scarred, by both mike's words and by his fire.

for a moment, mike and will just stand there, because neither of them can quite process what's happening. will is stunned and obviously in pain—the gloves on his hands that cover the tattoos he's ashamed of burned right through, and his hands already beginning to blister.

and mike is just horrified. because this is exactly what he'd been so afraid of. he's never been that good at controlling his firebending. he's never been good at protecting his friends from the people who hurt him. and apparently, he's not so good at protecting his friends from himself either.

mike tries to reach out. it's second nature to make sure will is okay, and even though there are horrified, guilty, burning tears in mike's eyes, he moves past the shame and the guilt and tries in that moment to reach for will.

but will leaves. he's on his bike today, not his glider. he doesn't use his glider very much anymore. he hasn't since he was kidnapped. will leaves mike behind.

and mike doesn't follow him.

because now will's better off without his fire anyways.

(spoiler alert: mike follows will... eventually. *cue wheeler-byers-hopper roadtrip to find the twins*)

[kikidewynter]

kk so i used to follow you but i haven't been in the saints row fandom in like 2 years I think? anyway. how does your srtt rewrite go atm? do josh and krystal's rewrites differ? what happens to dex and troy in your au

omg hi hello welcome back ! it’s in the first draft stages (finally) but i haven’t worked on it in a while ;-; but i’m really happy with the choices i’m making in regards to the story & characters. some recent developments are that matt miller is still hiding out in the abandoned burns mill plant (which once used fossil fuels, not nuclear power) but the place comes alive at night with raves and live band performances. he’s basically hiding in plain sight among the city’s undesirables. punks, rivetheads, etc. and they don’t really know what he does (he’s a cyberanarchist) but when the boss & asha show up to arrest him, they all gang together to defend him. so there’s a rly cool rave/fight scene. also shaundi & angel are working together and he dies in her arms which really fucks her up. her journey in srtt is kind of a repeat of what happened to the boss in sr2. when the helicopter goes down, she breaks her arm and has to abstain from going on missions. being cooped up in the penthouse with pierce and his constant parties drives her insane. she relapses with drugs, etc etc. she’s basically having the worst time of her life. steelport was not a good move for anybody tbh

josh and krystal’s differ only in the minor choices they make, they generally follow the same story. which brings us to dex :)

this is another recent addition: the stag arc is replaced with dex working for monica hughes to bring a court case against the saints. since the saints grouped with ultor, they’ve been keeping their criminal activities more low-key. and since both dex and monica have reasons to see ultor burn too, they go after the company for its part in covering up the saints illegal activities. so anyway the saints go to ground and hide all of the incriminating evidence (think convoy decoy) just before dex shows up at the penthouse with a warrant. the boss is arrested, but since nothing was found in the penthouse, they get released. shaundi is an easier target, they get her on possession and resisting arrest. boss teams up with the corrupt mayor to try and work around dex/monica. the whole thing goes to court and dex makes a breakthrough with some testimony about ultor’s chemical waste disposal plants dumping into steelport’s waterways. the boss kills his key witness, but dex comes into possession of some files. cue the cat and mouse chase across the city, a race back to the courthouse. boss and dex end up either at the top of a skyscraper or up in a helicopter (i haven’t decided). dex is hanging off the side, he refuses to let go of the files. boss is trying to get him to take their hand, but he says that if they pull him up, he brings the files with him. it’s both or none. here, boss can either decide to let him fall to his death, losing the files, therefore the saints win the court case. or, they can pull him up and doom themselves/their entire operation. the fun thing is, if the boss chooses still to help dex, despite the fact that those files could ruin everything for them, dex realises that the boss still deeply cares about him, and he tosses the files over the edge himself

josh saves him bc he’s softhearted & he and dex have history. krystal let’s him drop bc she can’t let anything threaten the empire she’s built up around herself

with troy, he’s not the chief of police yet in sr2, he’s the leader of stilwater pd’s anti gang taskforce. but he uses this position to let the saints fly under the radar while he focuses on the other gangs. he’s not present in srtt, but returns in sriv when monica hughes and stag take control of stilwater and his position is basically rendered useless

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

- stole some Magnets, built some Actuators. all in a day's work.

Ingram: That's all four actuators… delivered and done. Nice work. Li: Right on schedule. I've completed the restoration of Prime's basic functionings and he's ready to go. In fact, it's getting difficult to explain to the system why it can't move right now.

- ?! we have a giant robit who is compelled to run around before it even has legs??? the robit has adhd???

Ingram: Well, as soon as my scribes get those actuators in place, we'll have his arms and legs installed in no time. Which brings me to your next assignment. It won't be long before Prime can walk and talk, but he's missing one last important element… his nukes.

- his

WHAT!?!?!??

Ingram: Without them, his offensive systems aren't operating at peak capacity.

- Li, What, and i cannot emphasise this enough, the Fuck????? You designed a giant robot that shoots nukes????? in a place called the Capital Wasteland????? remind me how it got that name, again?????????????????

Cat: What's Prime armed with? Ingram: The eye laser can target a hostile from hundreds of yards out and take it down with pinpoint accuracy.

- ….laser theory for the win……. i fucking guess……..

Ingram: His nukes are modified Mark 28 Nuclear Bombs. They used to drop the things from bombers during the war. Just one of the nukes is equivalent to about three or four Fat Man shells. Basically, whatever it hits isn't getting up again.

- You Don't Fucking Say.

Ingram: His eye laser is almost ready to go, but without nukes to load into his pack, he's fighting at less than half his capability.

- Good??????? i thought you motherfuckers were all about /preventing/ the war from happening again?????? fuck's sake.

Cat: I'll run down to the Super-Duper Mart and pick some up. Ingram: Cute.

- *facepalm*

Ingram: Prime's bomb pack is fitted for Mark 28 Nuclear Bombs. The same type of bombs that were dropped from aircraft during the Great War.

- YOU KEEP REEMPHASISING THAT WHILE REMAINING APPARENTLY OBLIVIOUS TO THE IMPLICATION THAT MAYBE WE SHOULD NOT DO THAT AGAIN!

Ingram: The Commonwealth was a major staging area for the military's air force, so we assumed we wouldn't have trouble finding them. But since we arrived, our scouting teams haven't located a single bomb. Li: That's going to be a problem. Without a fully loaded nuke pack, Prime won't have the firepower to take on the Institute.

- the Institute is a sub-sub-sub-bunker full of of nerds, some stealth assassins, and a few gorillas! WHY do you need nukes? Why.

Cat: Can I build the nukes like I built the actuators?

- and fill them with newspaper and rocks?

Ingram: I could build you a thousand nuke casings right now, but we've got nothing to put inside them.

- how about this rock?

Ingram: The Mark 28's have a specialised nuclear payload that requires the correct balance of fissile materials in order for them to detonate properly. In other words, I'd love to mix you a cocktail, but I'm all out of liquor.

- the most eligible wlw-magnet in the Commonwealth strikes again.

Ingram: But before you give up hope, there's actually a silver lining here. Proctor Quinlan has located some records regarding a military installation which was used as a nuclear weapon storage facility. We're fairly certain this included a stockpile of the Mark 28's. The catch is that the installation is located somewhere within the Glowing Sea.

- good! sounds like a lost cause! what's plan b?

Cat: What do you mean you're only "fairly certain". Are they in there or not? Ingram: The Glowing Sea is so heavily irradiated, it's giving us echoed readings and false positives. We're just going to have to trust the records on this one. Scribe Haylen's established a communications point on the frontier of the Glowing Sea. I suggest you head out there first and establish a signal protocol with her so that the nukes can be airlifted out once you've located them. Hopefully by the time you've returned, we'll be ready to wake Prime up and you can say hello. Good luck, Knight.