#ITS ABOUT TIME YOU ACTUALLY TRIED TO BLEND IN DOCTOR

[spidori]

Doctor Danny Fenton: On The Run

Danny knew he was on borrowed time.

Sure, he was harder for Clockwork to find than most- something about it being harder to look for an acausal nexus than a causal one, and the medallion fused into his core severing him from standard causal flow, Dan had explained it to him once, before he... no! Focus Danny! You don't know how long you have until he finds you!

Dragging himself out of his dissociation, Danny took stock. He still had the Infinimap in one hand; it was still green and dripping from something he couldn't afford to think about right now. Where and when had the Infinimap interpreted his shout of "a way to run away" as asking to travel to?

"Dann'O! You're just in time to see our newest upgrades to the speeder!"

"Uhhh... You made it look like a Volkswagen beetle?”

"Oh, Sweetie, no. See!" his mom said, opening up a control panel and poking around, then stepping away from what was now a cargo van.

"Your father and I finally figured out how to fuse ectoplasm with metals to make ecto-alloy! We rebuilt the speeder from it and added a camouflage circuit. Now it can change shape into whatever will blend into the surrounding environment for any ghost hunting scenario."

"And the best part is, it even gives off an ecto-signature! Those spooks won't know what hit 'em when you ambush 'em from this one Mads!"

A transforming vehicle with its own ecto-signature to hide inside? Yeah, that might work, even though Danny remembered the camouflage feature had been a short-lived modification because of how often it would get stuck and have to be put through a hard-reset to get it changing again. And judging by the way the Infinimap was subtly tugging towards the improved speeder that's exactly what it brought him here for.

"Mom, Dad, whatever happens next, I love you, and I'm sorry."

"Danny, sweetie, is something wrong?"

"More than I have time to explain, mom. Look, if you see Jazz... If this timeline... Just, tell Jazz I love her too, ok?"

"Dann'o, you're scaring us."

"I know. I'm sorry. Hopefully you'll have the chance to be able to forgive me for this. Going Ghost!"

Ok. He had made it into the speeder. The new metal wasn't phase-proof, there were pros and cons to that, ones he would consider later if he made it that far. At least the interior was pretty much unchanged, so he'd been able to get the speeder started before he'd heard the sound of a clock tolling and his parents' banging on the door had suddenly stopped.

He'd gunned it into the portal quickly enough to get into the relative safety of the zone before its stop sign frame and hazard pattern doors dissolved into obliterated nothingness along with everything else he had been able to see, or sense, of his home dimension...

Something else to be stuffed in the trauma box to be unpacked never if he was ever able to stop running 'later,' something to unpack 'later.'

The tugging in his hand was getting stronger, so at least he was probably heading in roughly the right direction.

He tried veering a little to the right to see if he could get a better sense for the direction the map was tugging, only for its pull to remain unchanged.

Confused, Danny glanced down to see it was actually tugging towards the dashboard.

Or rather, the ectoplasm- all that remained of Dani... 'LATER!'- which coated it was tugging towards the dashboard.

Desperately hoping this meant there might be something of his favorite halfa left to save, Danny pressed the coated map to the dashboard, and prayed.

Within seconds, the map was gone, absorbed into the speeder. Then things got even weirder.

Weirder than the group of ancients putting aside their many feuds to team up on him had been.

Stranger than those ancients somehow getting the Observants on their side.

More out of the blue than the Observants using their binding vow with Clockwork to force him to try to eliminate any timelines with Danny in them, as well as anyone who was even part Danny.

It had been a hell of a day.

And now the speeder had apparently grown absolutely gigantic after absorbing the Infinimap if the anachrofuturistic room Danny suddenly found himself in was anything to go by.

And according to the view screens it was generating a relativistic time, space, and dimensional tunnel?

Oh Lord. Danny was going to have quite the time explaining this one to his parents if he managed to undo enough of this to have a timeline to return to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tunnel let out in a universe with low-to-minimal ambient ectoplasm according to the external sensor arrays.

That phrasing! That was Exactly how Clockwork had phrased it the last time Danny had talked with him as 'Clockwork'; after the Observants took control of him with their vow he had called himself Chrona, which was the first thing which clued Danny in that something was wrong.

What was it Clockwork had told him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Local ambient ectoplasm levels are an important consideration for stronger ghosts, Danny. Your perception is skewed by the limits of your experiences, as well as your unique biology, but Amity park and the Infinite Realms as a whole are essentially the top of the scale for ambient ectoplasm levels.

Normally, ectoplasm is a renewable, but much more finite resource. A sufficiently powerful ghost can easily consume all that is available in an area with a normal level before they are able to accomplish anything worth the effort if they aren't extremely frugal with their use of power. Normally, it makes any plans which would involve other realms simply not worth the effort and energy expenditure involved, especially with the additional up-front cost of breaching the veil.

There are even locations with low-to-minimal ambient ectoplasm, which makes them practically immune to ghostly influence. Only the very weakest of shades, ones who require next to no ectoplasm to maintain their current state of existence, can naturally persist in such places. Well, them, and extremely rare exceptions such as Halfa's, whose unique state of existence allows them to generate nearly all of the ectoplasm required to sustain their ghostly half. Any other ghosts would have to gather all of the ectoplasm they would need before going to any such spot, like how the astronauts you love so much need to bring everything for survival with them into deep space.

Actually, the deep space metaphor is particularly apt, as there are whole dimensions with far lower levels of ectoplasm than the one you call home.

Should you ever find yourself able to indulge that space obsession of yours, that would be a good place to do it. Most ghosts would be unable to follow you there, and even those who technically could would have great difficulty sustaining themselves once they arived."

"Geez, Gramps, you're feeling talkative today. Usually I can't get anything nearly this direct out of you."

"It will be important for you to understand your options, my young halfa. Speaking of which, keep in mind that your specific nature is vital to your ability to so easily sustain yourself in such environments. Even other halfas will have much more difficulty surviving in the lowest ecto-level locations as a result of their less balanced compositions. I know your young mirror's obsession also involves exploration, but she would require near constant fulfillment of her obsessions to have a hope of generating enough to get by without supplementation for you or another living being with a similar drive to seek new experiences. Mr. Masters would be better off due to his greater degree of human biology, but would also be hindered by the less complete connection to his ghost side. He would likely find transformation essentially impossible outside of survival scenarios- though you yourself probably would as well- and even his human form would experience side-effects like pounding headaches, or the constant sound of his heart pounding in his ears like a drum as it was pushed to maintain his starving ghostly side."

"I'm sure Dani and I could manage. And if we couldn't, we could always call you to pick us up."

"Untrue, actually. Any location with low enough levels to cause young Danielle to suffer would also be extremely difficult for me to reach. Such low levels could require anywhere from days to centuries in order to push enough ectoplasm through the veil to form a link, possibly more if an entity- such as an injured halfa- or anomaly- such as a rift of any kind- on the other side is draining whatever bleeds through. Your own presence may act to shorten that time somewhat if you can generate enough ectoplasm on site, but even then I would have to find you first. My abilities as an ectoplasmic entity rely wholly on manipulation of ectoplasm, and that includes my near omniscience. Should you ever find yourself in a location with sufficiently low ectoplasm, I would have a great deal of difficulty locating you; the link between our cores would mean that I would always be able to locate you eventually, but you would need to stay in one place for quite a while, which would rather defeat the purpose of emergency rescue."

"So if I ever need to hide from you because I actually manage to pull a prank on you which you don't see coming, all I have to do is find and then literally flee to one of a very select subset of alternate dimensions?"

"Pretty much. Although if you're hiding from me you would want to actively muddy the waters as well."

"Setting aside that I don't think I'd ever want to hide from you, Gramps, muddy the waters?"

"I'm a conceptual entity, Danny. I anchor to that concept in every single reality in which it exists. If the concept of time is sufficiently redirected to something or someone else to any degree, whatever portion has been redirected is therefore unavailable for me to latch onto. The same idea applies to Nocturn not being able to enter the DC Dimension because of their Dream of the Endless. Meanwhile, Pandora could enter almost at a whim if not for her guard duties, because that universe associates hope with her almost directly. In my case, anything strongly associated with the flow and concept of time could hinder me, while spreading my own name would allow me a greater share of any ectoplasm generated by the dimension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok.

Danny could work with this.

He would have to keep traveling so that Clockwork- no, it was Chrona now- couldn't lock onto him or Dani-fused-to-the-dimensionally-traveling-speeder (He would have to workshop that).

If possible, he would also have to find a way to make a myth associated with time in an abnormal manner; the question was how to do that?

And he would need to do all of this while expending as little of his ectoplasm as possible, and probably supplementing Dani's whenever he could if she was ever going to have any chance of reconstituting.

He could definitely work with this; he refused to accept otherwise.

Maybe his parents had left some things he could use in the speeder before they were- 'Later!'

Hmm... No tools lying around... There was the weapons locker, but he should probably use whatever was in those ecto-batteries immediately so they wouldn't act as some kind of concentrated-ecto-homing-beacon. Maybe they could help Dani heal?

As he brought the disconnected batteries to the console in the center of the room, he saw it. There, sticking out of one of the panels which would probably have originally been the cup-holder in the center console before everything was transformed, was his dad's favorite 'screwdriver.' Not that it was even remotely recognizable as a screwdriver anymore; his dad had modified it so many times that it looked more like a futuristic laser pointer now. It had become his favorite hobby project before he was- 'LATER!'

He recognized this one as the version which required next to no ectoplasm to work, but as a trade-off had been completely unable to interact with wood for some reason. Something about still partially living matter and destructive interference with foreign emotional resonance as a naturally evolving survival mechanism in- Ramble 'later', focus on surviving now.

And Danny was actually starting to feel like he could find a way to survive with what he had. It was like his dad had always said about the screwdriver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"See how many things it can do now, Dann'O! If I had tried to turn it into this version from the start it never would have worked; I would have gotten frustrated and had to move onto some other project for the sake of my sanity, and our house's walls. But since I took it one small change at a time, look at what I've been able to turn it into.

Incremental change, son! It's how any real change happens. If you want to accomplish something big, you try to choose the things which you think will lead towards wherever you want to end up, especially when they won't get you all the way there, big easy changes like that almost never stick for one reason or another. Over time those small steps add up, and you end up somewhere a lot better than where you started. So, what do you think you can do to apply that to working on your grades?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah, Danny could start to do something with what he had. He was still half alive, and could keep himself that way as long as he never stopped running long enough for Chrona to find and catch up to him. He had a Time and Dimensional and Relativistic Space ship (still not quite right, but better) with Dani fused into it to help him do just that. And he had his dad's screwdriver and advice.

So where should he start?

Well, if he wanted to build a myth, and to fulfill his obsessions wherever possible, protecting people while exploring all of time and space was probably as good a way as any. A time-traveling madman with an ever-changing camouflaged space-ship and a 'screwdriver', just passing through, helping out, was sure to get some attention.

It just needed a name to really give people something to latch onto.

He had just gotten his doctorate in engineering before everything went to hell, but as much as he'd like to use Dr. Fenton, that was just laying down a trail and begging Chrona to follow. His real name would probably have to be a closely guarded secret; the title was good though, so instead, he would just call himself

The Doctor.

Now, where should he run to next?

[sebsxphia]

Hi I love your work! You write them so well that I wish I could be in the story. Could you write something cute and fluffy for Phoenix? Its really hard to find good fluff for female characters compared to male characters.

lipstick.

natasha ‘phoenix’ trace x reader.

￫ description: natasha fixes up your make-up one evening but you have other ideas.

￫ c/w: kissing, fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: i haven’t actually written any full fics for natasha, so i couldn’t say no to this idea dear anon! @lilacfairy-13 thank you so much for being my beautiful muse for this piece. this is part of seb’s soft sunday. find the other fics here! 💌

“Stay still!” Natasha ordered once more with a laugh following after her firm tone. Her thighs were planted firmly over your torso, keeping you pinned down to your mattress underneath. She was leaning down to meet your face with her makeup brush.

Being a pilot meant she had a steady hand as she was trained to keep the aircraft level, however she could not keep a steady hand as you giggled and fidgeted underneath her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop it now.” You took a deep breath to compose yourself through your nose and steadied your face, tucking your lips together to hold yourself from bursting into another fit of laughter.

You closed your eyes again and her brush glided over your right eyelid with ease and composure. She leant back and cocked her head once to the left and then once to the right to admire her work. She nodded in agreement with herself and dipped the brush back into the pallet to add another stroke of colour and blend them together.

“Mm, I feel like your canvas right now.”

“That’s because you’re a work of art in my eyes, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut again as Natasha leaned back down to add the new colour to the edge of your eyelid. Even though your eyes were closed, you knew Natasha was wearing a love sick smile right now at her romantic one liner.

“You excited for tonight?” Her voice was quiet again as she was close to your face, her eyes trained cautiously on her movement. You could feel her warmth fan over your cheek and they instinctively turned a rosy red underneath her. ‘No need for blush’, you thought.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just still so nervous, what if they don’t like me Tash?”

“I like you.”

“Yeah but, these are your squad friends. You literally perform life or death missions with them, they’re basically family. What if they don’t like me?”

Natasha pulls away from your statement. She can sense the worry in your wavering voice and your eyes opened to catch hers.

You weren’t exactly wrong. The Dagger squad were Natasha’s family now and sure she knew Jake could pull some awful jokes from time to time, but no matter how many times she seemed to reassure you, you were still worried stiff about meeting them for the first time tonight.

She took your hands in hers still wedged over your torso. “What can I do to make it easier, baby?”

Natasha saw the cogs turning in your brain as you genuinely tried to come up with a serious answer, but all that dawned on your face was that signature playful smile that she’d come to love so much about you.

“Kiss me, kiss me better!” You protested dramatically with your head thrashing about in turn.

Natasha barked out a laugh and came down to still your face as not to ruin your make-up but also so she could press her lips to yours.

“Come here, you.”

Her hands let go of yours and she cupped your cheeks instead, letting her lips press feverishly against yours. Your head lifted off the pillow to meet her touch and you let out a soft little moan against her that was immediately swallowed by her searing kiss. She pulled away briefly only to place one, two, three and four kisses repeatedly against your lips.

Like a Doctor that had prescribed their patient love sick medication, she pulled away and picked back up her make up brush.

“Better?” You hummed in agreement and fell back against the soft pillows underneath. A blissful smile was plastered on your face and your eyes fluttered.

“Your eyes are done, lipstick now.” She switched out her make up brush for the lipstick colour that would match perfectly.

She leaned back down to your face and painted your lips. She went to pull away put you leaned up as far as your torso could whilst being trapped underneath her and pressed your lips back against hers.

“I thought we could wear matching lipstick?” You cocked your head to the side admiring the small smudge that was now painted on Natasha’s lips.

She padded her finger on the edge of her lips and looked down at her finger, noticing her lips weren’t fully covered.

“I think I need a touch up.” And she leaned back down to finish off what you started.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@luckyladycreator2

[marlenacantswim]

Fic ask,,, The Editor,,, "You're Gonna Need to Call A Doctor."

You're Gonna Need to Call a Doctor

He's alive. For a brief moment, he thinks this unfortunate, as if he were dead, he wouldn't be experiencing the ghastly stench of his pulverized boss. Former, boss, he remembers. As the events of the past few hours return to him, he tentatively opens his eyes, and sees only complete darkness— a rarity for him. The overall silence in his mind seems to indicate a complete shutdown of the thought broadcast system, and the darkness probably means there's no power to floor 500. It's strange: he almost feels asleep.

See, to minimize any excess heat, lighting on floor 500 was kept to a minimum, which of course necessitated ocular enhancement for The Editor. As such, since being chosen all those decades ago, he could always see in the darkest of environments, even with closed eyes. Add to that his constant operator-level access to the stream of consciousness only ever deactivating for his monthly rest, and it becomes pretty clear why his idiotic human instincts are yearning for a hearty nap at the mo. How blissfully unaware of them.

Alright, enough of this stupidity: where the hell is he? He hears the sounds of searing and thick bubbling, so he can't have been out that long. The amount of heat going on is also tremendous, but living and working in an icebox for several decades hasn't exactly tempered his perception of temperature. He tries to move. There's a lot of wet resistance; his backside must be covered in Jagrafess sludge. "So disgusting," he moans to himself, pushing himself away from the chilled wall of the lifeless computer system. In his panic from Suki's bafflingly strong corpse-grip, he'd rolled himself under the main console as a last-ditch grasp at survival. A typically brilliant call on his part, seeing as the metal paneling retained its cold temperature, and likely shielded him from the onslaught of molten innards.

His struggling motion must set something off, because a single light somewhere in the room hums to life. It's on for maybe a second before it fizzles out, once again leaving him blind. "Woooow, how thoughtful," he muses to no one. As he continues to inch his way out, he notices both his legs can move completely unhindered. A devilish smirk crosses his face: "Ohh, see that, you mole? Really tried your best, didn't you?" Feeling around for the edge of the console, he pulls himself up to a sitting position. "All the good that did you, ay Suki? Still had some kindle of life in you, and you wasted it! Your husk boiled away, and I remain completely untouched!"

As if on cue, that same bulb from before reawakens. The first thing he sees after the writhing masses of sinew coating the place are his legs: his left, loafer still shiny, and about two thirds of his right— the only two thirds that seems to be remaining. "Aw, what? No, that— c'mon!" How annoying. It'll cost him at least 3,000 credits for a new one. The end of it, still sizzling, sits in a pool of what he first assumes is anti-freeze, before coming to the conclusion that no, actually: that's just what his blood looks like. He's never really seen it before; always assumed it looked like everyone else's— just how much altering did Max do to him?

Whatever. No time for an identity crisis— he's got to get out of here. For one, it smells like absolute rubbish, but more importantly, it can't be good that he's... leaking, and of course he's got to get the bum leg thing sorted. He's still got administrator clearance for the lift, he'll just go down to the 417th floor, fork over the credits for a leg prosthesis, and blend in with the citizens of Satellite Five until some new, decent opportunity presents itself. He pauses, staring at his reflection in the blue-ish pool of his own blood. His irises are so massive, and his pupils more jarringly so in the dim light. Would the masses even consider him human? The surgeons would probably take one look at the foreign substance seeping from his wound and report him to... well, himself, he supposes. This is what he gets for being too good at his job.

Maybe their expertly curated xenophobia is right, though. Would his name— his real name— even show up in their systems? What would a medical scan reveal? They'd probably find his genome more analogous with one of those cold-faring species. Regardless, It's been so long since another alien's been on the station, the medbay no longer carries anything but iron-based blood— certainly nothing resembling whatever's flowing through his veins. A frown forms, unbefitting of his face. "Bloody hell, I look pathetic," he spits. Fine. Screw it. Guess he's having this identity crisis now. Who the hell even is he without the Jagrafess's influence? Not that it was particularly grand; must've been a pretty flimsy system if it only took one fool and a lucky break to blow it up completely. All that aside, it still gave him power and purpose, and now what has he got?

He perks up— Knowledge. He tilts his head, and a foxy grin sneaks back onto his mien. He's got knowledge. Valuable, valuable knowledge. Knowledge of the Doctor, and his time-traveling capabilities. That anomaly and his human plaything may have squandered his previous, let's say, "business endeavor," but they've shown themselves to be a far more lucrative investment opportunity. He brings himself to his fee— foot. To his foot, and cackles. "Oh Doctor," he sneers, "won't you be excited to see me again." Perhaps there are some benefits to his unexpected survival. How many people in the universe know that there's a Time Lord frolicking about spacetime unsupervised? How fewer can identify him by face alone? The Editor gives another scan of the alien remains around him, and bursts out laughing. "Sorry for the late notice, Max, but my resignation still stands. I think it will greatly benefit both of us." He points at a lifeless eyeball that wound up in the chair next to him— "Can I put you down as a reference?"

As he hears the metered sound of the approaching lift, he puts on his most pathetic pitiable face, and begins weaving his sob story.

It's about time he became his own boss, don't you reckon?

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

1-5 for the twins (separately obv lol) and emil

AH.

Ask Game!

How does your OC make ends meet? What do they do for a living? How is their occupation viewed in the social context they’re in? Does it come with social prestige or financial comfort, and are these two things aligned in the society you’re writing, or are they separate metrics?

Ohm is a doctor! While his job isn't actually considered the most socially prestigious, it does come with a heavy amount of financial comfort due to private practice. There is definitely some connect between the two, but it isn't a guaranteed combined metric, yk?

Ohm specifically runs a clinic out of his home, and because of his knowledge of both mundane and magical medicine, he's highly sought after.

How does your OC communicate? Are they monolingual or multilingual? What is the linguistic environment they’re in? If they’re monolingual, is there a social penalty for only speaking one language, or is it the norm? If they’re multilingual, which of their languages or sociolects has the most/least prestige? Is there a separation between written and oral forms of the language? Can your OC blend in or does their language mark them in some way? What are their levels of fluency, and how do they feel about them?

Everything I write is in English for ease, but most of it is technically French. Most of my characters can speak French to some degree. That being said, Ohm can speak a multitude of languages.

His strongest languages: French, Japanese, English, German, Russian. He's also pretty fluent in LSF.

Where he lives, being monolingual won't come with any hardships. But only if you're from that area. If he only spoke Japanese or English or German for instance, he'd have a harder time.

I'm not a fan of fantasy racism and it isn't a major point in my story for Amant, but any language that isn't notably European would be considered "less prestigious". But if he changed locations, that belief would also change.

It is obvious to a fluent speaker that when Ohm speaks French, he learned it secondary. His accent is a bit odd. However even if he speaks Japanese, you can tell he has an accent there too. He doesn't quite properly blend in anywhere.

He's proud of his fluent languages and he's proud of the languages he's learning still. He wishes he was better at Mandarin though lol

What is your OC’s concept of social debt? What constitutes a sense of social obligation for your character? Is it based on individual feelings or collective principles? What do they do when they feel like they owe someone? Are they likely to default on a social obligation, or repay it? What are the costs of either approach in the society you’re writing?

The A in Ambros stands for Autistic. No but seriously Ohm is a bit bad at figuring out social debts. But he knows the normal cues, and he'll always repay somebody if they've done him a service.

But that being said, his views are usually based on the socially accepted principles. Even if he doesn't really understand them. With that being said, both approaches are relatively accepted. It just depends on who, or what, you're slighting and whether or not you want to risk that.

A lot of darkness related creatures will prey on the kindness of man and some will even prey on the selfishness of man. Its an interesting thing for sure.

That being said, Ohm is very uh. Nice? He'll repay most things.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone a friend? What constitutes friendship in the society you’re writing, what expectations does it come with, and how does your OC fit into that structure of expectations? Do they make friends easily or do they struggle? How intimate is a friendship for them, and what does it include?

Ohm likes to say he makes friends easily, but really he just has a lot of acquaintances. He's really busy and putting the time and effort into maintaining connections with others is really hard.

But he tries! He really tries. As such, most of his friendships are really close. His real friendships mean the world to him.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone kin? What constitutes kinship in the society you’re writing, and how does your OC relate to that set of cultural expectations? Is kinship defined only by blood, or through other forms of social intimacy? Are there symbolic gestures that might establish a kin-like relation? What is family for your OC?

Ohm specifically believes kin to be his family and the close ties he's made. At the start of the story, all he has is his twin, is Sulien. And that's okay. Blood family is not the only kinship in this society though.

War, partnerships, romantic or familial relationships. All of these can count towards kinship. It just simply depends on the people involved, you know? Like real life basically.

Brothers in arms are of course a big thing when it comes to cultural and societal kinship, for instance.

He can't relate to the usual expectations or familial structures. But Ohm desperately wishes he could.

How does your OC make ends meet? What do they do for a living? How is their occupation viewed in the social context they’re in? Does it come with social prestige or financial comfort, and are these two things aligned in the society you’re writing, or are they separate metrics?

His ass is a historian and researcher for the Carcaseau Historical Museum. Sulien is also a well known monster hunter, probably the best in France (definitely the best). His job at the museum is tedious and it brings very little money or social prestige. He does it because he likes it.

His job as a monster hunter however, well. That pays WELL and anybody who knows of that world, respects him greatly. Sulien is basically living two lives.

How does your OC communicate? Are they monolingual or multilingual? What is the linguistic environment they’re in? If they’re monolingual, is there a social penalty for only speaking one language, or is it the norm? If they’re multilingual, which of their languages or sociolects has the most/least prestige? Is there a separation between written and oral forms of the language? Can your OC blend in or does their language mark them in some way? What are their levels of fluency, and how do they feel about them?

Same as Ohm basically. Both twins are super good with linguistics. However, Sulien's strongest languages are: French, Japanese, Russian, English, German.

He's also conversational is LSF and Bulgarian.

His accent is way harder to pin down than Ohm's. He doesn't sound like he has any one accent, it sounds like a melting pot. He can't blend in with any language because he just sounds Weird.

But Sulien is proud of his linguistic ability. And he's always learning more. Always willing to learn more.

What is your OC’s concept of social debt? What constitutes a sense of social obligation for your character? Is it based on individual feelings or collective principles? What do they do when they feel like they owe someone? Are they likely to default on a social obligation, or repay it? What are the costs of either approach in the society you’re writing?

Similar but opposites. Sulien doesn't get for perceived social debt. He'll rarely repay anybody unless there's a benefit to it. That being said, Sulien is fiercely determined.

If you have done something he perceive needs to be paid back, he will in full and then some. This sometimes gets him in trouble because he'll overwhelm people by overextending his gratitude. But Sulien is just kind of like that.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone a friend? What constitutes friendship in the society you’re writing, what expectations does it come with, and how does your OC fit into that structure of expectations? Do they make friends easily or do they struggle? How intimate is a friendship for them, and what does it include?

Sulien finds it kind of hard to make friends. I mean his best friend almost killed him. It takes a lot to break past his exterior. He's cold and robotic. But once he does consider you his friend, he will be immensely loyal. He does not discard friends easily.

Friendship in this society is the same as any other society really. It comes with the expectation of kindness, putting each other ahead, supporting one another.

Because friendship means so much to him, it is often something close and intimate. And yeah, he struggles to make those kinds of connections because of his history.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone kin? What constitutes kinship in the society you’re writing, and how does your OC relate to that set of cultural expectations? Is kinship defined only by blood, or through other forms of social intimacy? Are there symbolic gestures that might establish a kin-like relation? What is family for your OC?

For Sulien, kinship is those who stay. Those who would bleed for you that you would bleed for. His brother. His brother, even though he keeps Ohm at arms length. That is the only family he has left. Societal structures, expectations, he doesn't care about them.

How does your OC make ends meet? What do they do for a living? How is their occupation viewed in the social context they’re in? Does it come with social prestige or financial comfort, and are these two things aligned in the society you’re writing, or are they separate metrics?

Uhhhhhm thievery!

Emil is also a mercenary lol- he'll take odd jobs. He's really picky about them, don't get me wrong. He's got a STRONG moral code. But he'll steal whatever for the most part.

He had a very prestigious position secured as head of baudelaire security. that would have brought prestige and financial comfort. But for his mental and physical health well.. He had to get away. So now he's barely getting by.

How does your OC communicate? Are they monolingual or multilingual? What is the linguistic environment they’re in? If they’re monolingual, is there a social penalty for only speaking one language, or is it the norm? If they’re multilingual, which of their languages or sociolects has the most/least prestige? Is there a separation between written and oral forms of the language? Can your OC blend in or does their language mark them in some way? What are their levels of fluency, and how do they feel about them?

French and English babyyyy- he sounds French he looks French, he is French.

What is your OC’s concept of social debt? What constitutes a sense of social obligation for your character? Is it based on individual feelings or collective principles? What do they do when they feel like they owe someone? Are they likely to default on a social obligation, or repay it? What are the costs of either approach in the society you’re writing?

And Emil my beloved case by case boy. It depends. Often, if he has the time and means, he'll repay somebody who has helped him or Laure. But if he doesn't, then he doesn't. He wishes society was all kind and all giving, but it isn't, and he knows that.

If you pick something up that he's dropped, he'll thank you and move on. You know? If Laure pays then he'll thank her and move on. If he pays, he expects the same from her. In his friendships ESPECIALLY, he doesn't see the point for 'repaying'? This is what friendship is for.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone a friend? What constitutes friendship in the society you’re writing, what expectations does it come with, and how does your OC fit into that structure of expectations? Do they make friends easily or do they struggle? How intimate is a friendship for them, and what does it include?

Emil does not make friends easily. His best friend died and his other best friend has joined him on this journey. He's afraid to be hurt again, afraid to lose again. It makes it really hard to form lasting connections with others.

He tries not to because of those fears. His friendship with Laure is currently the only thing keeping him going. If he lost her? He'd lose himself too.

What does it take for your OC to consider someone kin? What constitutes kinship in the society you’re writing, and how does your OC relate to that set of cultural expectations? Is kinship defined only by blood, or through other forms of social intimacy? Are there symbolic gestures that might establish a kin-like relation? What is family for your OC?

Emil considers Laure his kin, his sisters his kin. But not either of his parents. To him, blood or not, family is those you choose. and he chooses them, you know?

He's a very found family kind of guy! He's never related to the usual societal structure, because he never really related to his family.

[clonehub]

Episode 3 of the bad batch!

"we're fine" girl the gonk droid is on its side

I wonder what these rations taste like

Okay so echo can eat solids. And also everyone is yelling at him to fix everything on the ship. They are flying through hyperspace on a ship that doesn't work properly and I'm SORRY but techs priorities are BACKWARDS

THEY DONT EVEN FIT IN THE SEATS AAAHHHHHH

The way they're acting I'm thinking theybe never crash landed before which is actually really funny bc Anakin only knew how to crash. Like it was a regular occurrence in tcw for bitches to be crashing all over the place

Okay first mention of crosshair.

"Crosshairs actions may have been influenced by his inhibitor chip" "it can do that?" Was it. Like wasnt this established. Like one or two episodes ago? I'm genuinely confused this could be my own standing knowledge of the chips getting in the way but why's echo surprised the chip is influencing Crosshairs actions

I will say. There's times where the lighting and the model rendering blends in such a way so that u can't really differentiate the features on omegas face if that makes sense. Like it blends too much

I do like how much they do the blur/focus thing I've always liked that

Rampart being like the only person in this entire series with decently brown eyes :/

Oh look. Once again referred to as enhanced (crosshair). And it's like the more that I think about it. It would not make sense for the Kaminoans to work so hard to keep tbb alive if they believed they were really defective. They're very much like "here's our enhanced product here's our enhanced soldiers see how enhanced they are" like tbb are advertising so they wouldn't say "yeah they're defective BUT--"

So crosshair just walking about in his jammies

Tarkins face model is p good

Something about the models for this first batch of conscripts is like. Like they were built the way they were bc the animators knew they wouldn't be on screen long.

This is kinda funny tho bc they definitely made some heads and just stuck them on a clone models body HFKSBFKSNDKSJS not that I'm mad I like they didn't do boob armor but fhakdnaksk

Tech is so like. Not arugmentative but he has to reply to everything and it's normally in a dismissive or disagreeing way and normally I wouldn't care at all but sometimes it's like was this line necessary.

"you wanna narrow that down" bitch can you go outside and look damn making all this noise from the back seat

I wonder why if Wrecker is having all this obvious hesd pain nobody is actually like checking on him?

A nice blend of music here

It's so funny like how much ppl just fucking hate being scanned because like for me if every doctors visit could just be a scan I'd be so gung ho for it. Yeah let me just lay here for three seconds and hardly get a needle or anything tf

Willing enlistment as metric for a good soldier is interesting and I feel like purposely manipulative bc the guy in the scene before this just said he's got like food and housing so that's partly why he's staying. It's not a loyalty thing at all lmao

What's funny is that I think tbbs helmets for all their little specialities don't actually contribute to air tight contained suits the way the normie clones do. Bc if this was Rex and co they could probably just keep their buckets on w a lil attachment. So they get the headlamps and the HUD. But hunter can't have that so he has to remove the entire thing and put on this mask.

"we each have enhanced skills"

See I wish they could have maintained this tension around crosshair better through the season

Not this white boy poking crosshair in his insecurities BDMABDLSNSLAK no wonder he was so gung ho to kill him and also why he wanted to stick w the imps so bad. Again again again it's ego

They use English letters a lot here not that it's a bad thing or anything but like I remember how in tcw during some like behind the scenes things they basically implied they tried to avoid doing that. They sometimes would say the aurebesh letters and sometimes it'd be A and B

Oh he didn't tattoo his eyelid. Not that it like has to be but like. I just noticed

Sorry these choking noises are so throaty

Bro just unconscious here fjandnaknsa

Wilhelm scream :/

Yeah wow the uh. White boy was the only one with moral back bone huh. The only one who said extrajudicial execution of civilians was bad. Just him huh. Hm.

This is an interesting creature

Oh she gotta be standing on something to be this tall

DNA degradation still doesn't make sense to me given what should be the kammies gene prowess but whatevs

It's like. They're hung up on Jango DNA but if hsi stuff is swirling the drain and you don't have boba would the next thing not be to just find a new guy? Also how does any of that make this any less cost prohibitive

"such a contingency would require a direct source. The clones required will not return willingly" / "they are kaminoan property and we only need one"

Uh but tbb are enhanced and mutated so therefore not the best candidates for sourcing for Jango DNA? Unless I've got this wrong (I'm thinking I do).

I wonder if this room still stinks

This is a sweet thing wreckers done I will say that. But also is omegas room just a viewport or is there a turret attached to that chair?

"I never had my own room before" who was she sharing a room with?????

[deadendsave]

Delilah Hodges’ Journal (1)

1: Today is my 15th birthday. My mom gave me this journal, she said it’s important to document our lives. A few people at the camp gave me some books, and Quinn gave me a pet rock because I’ve been talking to her nonstop about how much I want a dog. Not the same, but at least rocks can’t get sick. I named him Pebbles and I’m gonna cherish him forever.

2: Ooo Lilahhh I’m snooping through your journal! It’s not like I’m sitting beside you and you gave me permission to write this or anything. I’m glad you love pebbles! I spent a long time sorting through rocks to find him, and he was the best one. We should start taking him on walks so everyone at camp thinks we’re even more annoying than they already do. Happy birthday! I love you so much. - Quinn

3: One of the books I got for my birthday was about aquatic life. The ocean is so cool I wish I was a marine biologist. People from the old times only explored about 10% of the ocean. You’d think they would’ve explored way more than that, but I guess this ocean is pretty big. P.S. whales are my new biggest fear. They’re HUGE.

4: Fact from my book: Tho giant pacific octopus has 3 hearts and 9 brains. It can also change color to blend in with its surroundings because of special pigment cells called chromatophores. Weird.

5: Dad said I’m almost old enough to go out on supply runs, but I need to learn how to hunt first so I can protect myself against the sick. Yeah, right. He’s tried to teach me how to shoot before, I SUCKED. Like that time he lined up cans for me to practice my aim, and I missed every shot. I don’t even like guns. The sound hurts my ears. He’s taking me out to the woods tomorrow to hunt, but I don’t think I have it in me to hurt an animal. The thought of it makes me queasy.

6: Dad took me hunting, we walked around the woods for a while before we found anything. But then we saw a deer in the distance. He handed me his rifle, and i aimed and shot. I missed, and it ran off. I felt so bad for failing, I tried my best and it still wasn’t good enough. I felt even worse for scaring the deer. My dad looked so disappointed. I hate hunting.

7: Nothing I do is EVER good enough for my dad. Sorry I’m not some killing machine survivalist expert like you and mom are. Our camp is secure, I’ve never been in that much real danger. They got to experience the world before the sick, I didn’t. They get to go far away from camp, I’m just stuck here.

8: I love my mom. She’s actually nice to me. I feel comfortable around her. When I’m around my dad I’m always on edge. But it’s upsetting that she never defends me or tells my dad to stop when he’s screaming at me for not being able to do something. She just acts like it’s nothing and tells me he just wants me to do better so I’ll be safe. Yeah, right. He just likes to use me as a way to let all of his anger out.

9: Quinn told me she had to show me something in the woods. She’s always sneaking off. I was kinda scared without an adult, but it wasn’t that far. She told me I need to not be such a wimp and be more adventurous. I’m glad I went because we got to see little baby robins, they had just hatched. Quinn’s been monitoring them for a few weeks waiting to surprise me. On our way back, she tripped over something and cut her knee up really bad. She’s very clumsy.

10: Here’s another fact from my book: Stingrays have a protective layer of mucus that shields them from diseases. If only humans had that. Maybe the world would still be in tact.

11: Took Pebbles on a walk like Quinn suggested. We do a lot of dumb things to keep ourselves entertained. Everyone else is worrying about supplies and food and killing the sick. My mom said she wants me to have a somewhat normal life before I have to start worrying about those things too. I guess considering how shitty the world is, I’ve got it pretty good.

12: The camp’s doctor said Quinn has an infection from the cuts on her knee, and there’s no antibiotics left. The doctor looked worried. Everyone’s been out on runs looking for some medicine for her, no luck so far.

13: Just realized one of the books I got for my birthday was a steamy romance novel. Ew. I don’t think Judy realized that when she gave it to me. Yikes. I have no interest in “finding love” romantically. It’s just not something I really care about. I don’t think I’ve even had a crush on anyone before. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

14: Quinn’s getting worse. She’s been resting a lot, which is super unusual for her. Usually she’s got so much energy she can’t stay still. It’s upsetting to see her like this. She said her whole body hurts and she keeps feeling like something bad is gonna happen. I’ve never heard her say she was scared of anything until now.

15: My parents took me swimming in the lake today. I guess they could tell I’ve been sad. It wasn’t the same without Quinn. I wish there was something I could do for her. I miss when we were little and we would pretend to be mermaids. She needs to get better soon.

16: Today Quinn was reading me one of my books, but when she talked it just sounded like gibberish. It freaked me out a little. I thought she was just trying to be funny at first. She’s also got a really foggy memory right now. She couldn’t even remember the birds for a minute. Guess it’s the fever. I read to her instead.

17: My mom went on a supply run with some other people from camp. Still, no antibiotics. But they did find some things from the old times. Mom gave me a puzzle. I’m gonna show it to Quinn tomorrow, hopefully she feels well enough to work on it with me. Mom said some some pieces might be missing but we could use our imagination to fill in the gaps.

18: Quinn didn’t feel good today. She’s still getting worse. She fell asleep beside me while we were working on the puzzle so I ended up doing it alone. She was breathing weird. When she woke up she didn’t even talk, just held my hand. It felt clammy. I waited until her parents came back to their tent to head back to mine. I told her I loved her and I’d see her tomorrow. She just slightly smiled. It broke my heart a little.

19: This morning I woke up to go see Quinn, but my mom stopped me before I could leave. She had been crying, I knew something was off. I had a pit in my stomach. She hugged me and told me to sit down. She said Quinn’s body had been ravaged by the infection, and without any medicine to fight it off, she went into septic shock. I didn’t fully understand what that meant, so I tried to leave and go see her. My mom stopped me once again. “Baby she’s gone. She’s not in pain anymore.”

20: I couldn’t process what she just told me. I felt frozen. It was like every bad feeling I could possibly experience hit me all at once. I broke down and my mom held me tight. My body wouldn’t stop shaking. All of these emotions were physically hurting me. I’ve never lost anybody this close to me. Quinn and I were best friends before we could even talk. I don’t know what life is like without her, I don’t wanna know. We were always supposed to be together.

21: Today is the day of her burial, but I don’t know if I have the strength to go. I don’t want my last memory of her to be her lifeless body being put in the dirt. Everything hurts right now. I’ve heard plenty of people talking about losing someone they loved. I knew what grief was, but I never fully understood just how fucking awful it felt. My chest burns. I’m sad and I’m confused and I’m angry. Quinn was a good person. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved to live. We’re only 15, why would something so bad happen to someone as good as her?

22: Everyone else gets to move on and I’m just stuck here, consumed by the grief. I finally worked up the courage to go to Quinn’s tent. I talked to her mom and she let me keep some of her things. I could see the pain in her eyes. I know her parents are hurting just as bad as I am. The guilt I’m feeling is unbearable. It was my fault that Quinn’s died. If she wouldn’t never taken me to see the baby birds she would still be alive. The only person that could make me feel better right now is gone.

23: It’s only been a few days since Quinn’s burial, but people are already asking me if I’m okay. Clearly, I’m not. How could they expect me to be? My best friend is dead and her death was preventable. I miss her so much. The thought of forgetting her face or the sound of her voice terrifies me. I don’t want to forget her, and I don’t want to move on.

24: She’s been gone for 11 days now. I decided to make a memorial for Quinn myself. I went into the woods and dug a shallow hole just deep enough to fit some of the things her mom had given me. I keep talking to her out loud like she can hear me. I don’t care if it makes me look crazy. I sat at her makeshift grave and told her she shouldn’t have been so clumsy. Jokes don’t feel the same anymore though.

25: As I sat on the ground staring at the grave, everything started to feel more real. She’s never coming back. She’s gone. Forever. I cried and i cried and I cried until my body couldn’t make tears anymore. My face felt hot and my head started to hurt. I eventually stood up and decided to go check on the baby birds. They were still there, chirping and flapping their tiny wings, preparing to leave the nest. I felt a bittersweet sense of comfort watching them. It kinda felt like she was there, watching them with me.

[do-foryou]

✅ COGNIGEN – Cognigen Review – Cognigen 2023 – Does Cognigen Works? 

✅ Link to the Official Website: https://cutt.ly/cognigenreview2023 ✅ Link to the Official Website: https://cutt.ly/cognigenreview2023 ✅ COGNIGEN – Cognigen Review – Cognigen 2023 – Does Cognigen Works? – Cognigen Reviews. ✅ Cognigen Review In this video, I’ll tell you everything you need to know about Cognigen, and I’ll also give you a very important warning about Cognigen. Here are the most common questions I've received about Cognigen  and the answers to help you out: ✅Can I get my money back if I'm not happy? Absolutely. We've made it as simple as possible for you to try Cognigen with no risk. If you're not happy for any reason simply contact our customer support desk, tell them what happened and they'll fulfill your request. Plus you'll have a full 90 days to try it out and make sure it's for you! ✅How do I take Cognigen ? We suggest taking it right after breakfast or lunch so you can experience concentration and focus all day. It's important to take it after a meal on a full stomach, so the nutrients can be properly absorbed into your body. All you need to do is swallow 1 small capsule once a day and that's it. Each bottle comes with enough capsules for a 30-day supply. ✅How long should I take it before seeing noticeable results? Most people begin to notice results fairly soon. However those results will continue to get stronger the longer you take it. We suggest at least 60-days, this will give your body enough time to cycle all the nutrients through your system several times, allowing them time to "coat" your brain. ✅Will it negatively interact with the medication I'm currently taking? None of the ingredients are known to have negative interactions with any medication. However, we recommend you consult with your doctor. ✅I've tried other brain supplements in the past which didn't work, how do I know this is different? We only work with the best, clinically tested ingredients available. Plus, no other formula comes close to matching the same quantity of brain stimulating ingredients as we do. Plus, we never skimp on dosing. What you see on our label is exactly what you're getting. And if you're not satisfied with the results, you can always get your money back. ✅ Link to the Official Website: https://cutt.ly/cognigenreview2023 ✅ Link to the Official Website: https://cutt.ly/cognigenreview2023 #Cognigen #CognigenReview #Cognigenreviews #CognigenSupplement Cognigen is a nootropic supplement created by All Health Labs. Featuring a blend of natural ingredients, Cognigen claims to deep feed your brain with the nutrients needed to support a healthy mind and memory. The all-natural Cognigen Reviews supplement is said to help increase and accelerate cerebral circulation. Therefore, it could enhance attention and mental clarity while working. After Cognigen daily, people said they have also experienced improved memory. All this means being able to meet any work objectives in only a few weeks. Cognigen helps develop a healthy brain with greater blood flow and increased capacity for oxygen. Cognigen is also claimed to gradually improve learning abilities because its users say they are more clear-headed and relaxed after taking it regularly. Those who use this formula mentioned how they have daily quick brain functioning healthy. Cognigen Supplement Review 2023, i told you importante information about this product to help you decide if this product is right for you. Many people question “Does Cognigen Work” and the answer is yes Cognigen works. I really hope this video helped you and I also hope that Cognigen actually helps you a lot to improve your life, and many other benefits that this product promotes. IS COGNIGEN FDA APPROVED? It is produced in a facility in the United States that has been certified as Good Manufacturing Practices, or GMP, which means the FDA has inspected the facility to ensure the product is made in a safe and hygienic manner. The FDA does not regulate supplements, but it does regulate the manufacturing process for food-grade products. Cognigen Dosage: 1 capsule per day Money-Back Guarantee: 90-Day Money Back Guarantee Side Effects: No side effects Some of the active ingredients in Cognigen:   #cognigen #cognigenreview #cognigen2023

[boilerdog1]

Honest Java Burn Reviews: Does This Coffee Enhancer Really Work?

With so many weight loss supplements flooding the market, it can be hard to separate fact from fiction. Java Burn has been gaining a lot of buzz lately as a metabolism-boosting fat burner, but does it actually live up to the hype? In this review, I'll share my honest experience after trying Java Burn for several months.

About Java Burn Java Burn is a powdered supplement that you mix into your morning coffee. It contains a proprietary blend of natural ingredients like green tea extract, chromium, and L-theanine that are claimed to boost your metabolism, increase fat burning, and curb cravings.

Java Burn comes in a pouch with 30 single-serve packets. It's sold exclusively online through the official website at $49 per pouch. While a bit pricey, the convenience of the single-serve packs makes it easy to get your daily dose.

My Personal Experience At 35 years old, I've struggled with a sluggish metabolism and those stubborn last 10-15 pounds for years. I've tried loads of different diets and exercise regimens, but nothing seemed to give me lasting results. When a friend mentioned Java Burn, I figured it was worth a shot.

I used Java Burn as directed by mixing one packet into my coffee each morning. Within the first couple of weeks, I noticed feeling more energetic and awake. But it wasn't until about the 4-6 week mark that I started to see real progress on the scale.

By the third month, I had lost around 12 pounds while following my usual diet and exercise routine. I also experienced a noticeable reduction in cravings for sweets and unhealthy snacks. My clothes felt looser and I could see more muscle definition from my workouts.

Pros and Cons Pros:

Convenient single-serve packs to mix with coffee

Gave me a clean energy boost without jitters

Noticeable appetite suppression

Steady, sustainable weight loss over time

Cons:

Relatively expensive at $49 per pouch

Results took 4-6 weeks to start showing up

Contains a proprietary blend so dosages aren't clear

Is Java Burn Effective for Weight Loss? Based on my personal experience, I can say that Java Burn does appear to be an effective and sustainable way to lose weight over time. The results weren't dramatic, but the steady progression and added benefits like increased energy make it a solid option.

Of course, no supplement is a magic solution. Java Burn worked for me because I combined it with a balanced diet and regular exercise. But it served as a helpful boost to my metabolism and made the process easier by keeping cravings in check.

Who Should Consider Java Burn? Java Burn could be a good choice for anyone wanting to give their weight loss efforts an extra kick, especially if you've hit a frustrating plateau. Its all-natural formula is relatively safe for healthy adults, though you should still check with your doctor first.

Those who are sensitive to caffeine may want to be cautious, as the coffee combo could potentially cause jitters or disrupted sleep for some people.

Conclusion After incorporating Java Burn into my routine for several months, I can recommend it to give your metabolism a gentle nudge in the right direction. It's not a magic bullet, but the added energy and appetite suppression were definite plusses that contributed to my 12-pound weight loss.

That said, the $49 price tag is on the higher side, so you'll need to decide if the cost is worth it for your budget. There are also plenty of other quality fat burner supplements on the market to consider if Java Burn doesn't seem like the right fit.

My advice? Fuel your body with proper nutrition, stay active, and utilize a supplement like Java Burn as a supportive tool in your overall weight loss

[healthyhustleusa]

Matcha Magic: My Experience with Matcha Extreme for Weight Management

I've always enjoyed a cup of tea, but after indulging a little too much during the holidays, I decided it was time to focus on healthy weight management. While I knew about the potential benefits of green tea, I stumbled upon Matcha Extreme and its intriguing blend of traditional matcha with a "synergistic" formula. Here's my experience with this unique weight loss product.

Deliciously Different

One of my biggest concerns with weight loss supplements was taste. I've tried bland protein shakes and chalky powders in the past, leaving me feeling deprived. Matcha Extreme, however, was a delightful surprise. The matcha itself has a vibrant, grassy flavour that's earthy and slightly sweet. Blended into a smoothie with banana and almond milk, it created a refreshing and satisfying drink that I actually looked forward to each morning.

A Gentle Boost

Unlike some weight loss products that leave you jittery or wired, Matcha Extreme provided a gentle, sustained energy boost. The natural caffeine content in matcha gave me a clear head and focus throughout the day, without the afternoon crash I sometimes experience with coffee. This helped me stay active and motivated throughout my weight loss journey.

Appetite Ally

One of the biggest struggles I've faced with weight management is curbing unhealthy cravings. Matcha Extreme seemed to help with this too. Perhaps due to the regulated blood sugar it mentions in the description, I found myself feeling less tempted to reach for sugary snacks between meals. This allowed me to make healthier choices throughout the day and stick to my calorie goals.

Sustainable Results

I wasn't expecting overnight miracles, but I was happy to see a gradual decrease on the scale after incorporating Matcha Extreme into my routine. Combined with a healthy diet and regular exercise, it felt like a supportive tool in my weight management plan. More importantly, I haven't felt like I'm depriving myself. The delicious taste and natural ingredients make Matcha Extreme a sustainable option for those seeking a long-term approach to weight loss.

Overall, I would highly recommend Matcha Extreme to anyone looking for a natural, delicious, and effective way to support their weight management goals. It's a welcome addition to my healthy lifestyle routine!

Disclaimer: It's important to note that everyone's body is different, and what works for me may not work for everyone. It's always a good idea to consult with your doctor before starting any new weight loss supplement.

[sebeth]

All-Star Squadron #2

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

All-Star Squadron #2 by Roy Thomas, Rich Buckler, & Jerry Ordway

“The Tyrant Out Of Time!”

FDR’s assembled heroes break up a bank heist on their way to the naval base.  The heroes swap origin stories to pass time during the flight.  They also reveal their secret identities.  Roy Thomas makes a point of letting the audience know how long the characters have been active in their heroic identities.  Hawman, the Atom, and Dr. Mid-Nite have been active since 1940, Plastic Man since early 1941, while the remaining three - Johnny Quick, Liberty Belle, and Robotman - have only been active for weeks or a few months.

The editor’s note tells us to read the letters page for the sources of the origins.

Per Degaton explains his motivations to Danette and the Shining Knight:  He explains that a few weeks ago Hawkman, Dr. Mid-Nite, and Sandman rescued a group of American scientists from Axis spies.  The editor’s note refers us to All-Star Comics #10 - an issue published in 1941.

I would like to point out that Roy Thomas is seamlessly blending his stories with issues that were published in the 1940′s - forty years before the All-Squadron was published.  And before the age of the internet and its resources.

Back to Per Degaton:  He states that he was one of the scientist’s assistants.  The scientists tell the JSA that they have developed a time-ray that can send people into the future.  The JSA travel to the 25th century to gather parts to build a bomb-defense beam.  Per Degaton reveals that he murdered Professor Zee (in 1947) then traveled back in time, building an army, and altering the timeline.  He also traveled into the future.  Editor’s notes refer us to All-Star Comics #35 (1947) and JLA #107-108. 

Solomon Grundy interrupts Degaton to remind him they’ve heard this story before.  Degaton responds with “Silence!”  Yes, Grundy, you should never interrupt a wanna-be dictator while he’s ranting about his evil plans.

Degaton explains that he tried to alter the events of World War II but a “time-storm” kept him from altering events from September 1939 to December 6, 1941.  Degaton reveals that he travelled to the future to gather his allies to attack the Justice Society. If you remember from “All-Star Squadron #1” thoughts, Degaton and his cohorts all debuted from 1943 to 1948. The only exception is Wotan, who debuted in 1940. Another masterful example of Roy Thomas weaving around established continuity and providing an explanation for why these villains are appearing before their actual debuts. Roy Thomas is an underrated master of the craft and an undervalued historian of comic books. If Roy Thomas can flawlessly interweave obscure characters like the Monster into his stories – without going against established continuity – and in an era where Google Search and the internet were not research options – then I don’t want to hear excuses from modern creators who can’t bother to be consistent with storylines that happened only a few years ago.

Degaton reveals the captured JSA members are being held beneath a volcanic isle in Hawaii.

Solomon Grundy proclaims he’s only here to strangle the Green Lantern and Wotan calls “dibs” on Doctor Fate.

Danette frees herself and tosses Sir Justin his sword.  Sir Justin faces off with Solomon Grundy.  The editor’s note informs us that we will see more of this fight next issue.

The Sky Pirate blitzes San Francisco.  Sandra Knight changes into her Phantom Lady attire.  The Sky Pirate tangles with FDR’s heroes.  Phantom Lady joins the group. Doctor Mid-Nite remarks he’s heard of the mysterious Phantom Lady but that her usual stomping grounds are Washington DC. Sandra Knight was introduced as Washington DC debutante in her Quality Comics origin. It’s the small details that make Roy Thomas’ All-Star Squadron a master class series.

The Phantom Lady debuted in 1941. She was a Quality Comics character. DC purchased Quality Comics in 1956. Sandra Knight would later be retconned as the cousin of Ted Knight, the original Starman.

Robotman is about to capture the Sky Pirate only for him to vanish in a flash of light.

Degaton has a hissy over the heroes’ interference (and his forgetfulness of not all masked men in 1941 were members of the JSA) and pushes a button labeled “Volcanic Isle Detonator”.

Next issue:  The Dooms of Dark December!

We receive a “Fact File On Per Degaton” which is more of a pin-up with his first appearance listed and his height. Degaton is a whopping 5’4”. Seems to be having some Napoleon syndrome going on.

The letter page recaps the “Secret Wartime History of the Justice Society of America” aka “Everything You Always Wanted To Know About The Justice Society But Were Afraid To Ask”

Home Earth is Earth-Two

Original membership roster was Hawkman, the Atom, Houman, Sandman, the Spectre, Dr. Fate, Green Lantern, and the Flash.

Superman and Batman were honorary members

Green Lantern and Flash stepped down and were replaced by Johnny Thunder and Dr. Mid-Nite

Starman later replaced Hourman who had taken a still-unexplained leave of absence

The JSA was founded partly through the efforts of FDR and coordinated anti-spy activities with the FBI, fighting sabotage in 1940 and 1941

The JSA raised millions of dollars to help war orphans, battled Axis influence in Latin America, and protected America’s scientists from abductions and assassinations (All-Star Comics #7, 9, 10)

Roy Thomas throws in a few paragraphs on the history of WWII. I’ll skip it because everyone should know this if you paid attention in history class.

The JSA disbanded in All-Star Comics #11 as all members joined a branch of America’s armed services. The exception is the Spectre, who is a combination of a corpse/spirit of vengeance.

By the end of All-Star Comics #11, the JSA had reformed as the Justice Battalion, operating under direct orders from the War Department. Their military careers were largely ended at this point.

They were mostly active in America, though they did fight in Europe at times.

The last appearance of the Justice Battalion was All-Star Comics #16.

Roy Thomas notes the All-Star Squadron series was “created to tell the story which the wartime All-Star Comics did not, could not tell. The first issue should be taking place shortly after the time the members spent “weeks, if not months in the Army, the Navy, and the Army Air Corps.”

“Nothing in this or future issues of All-Star Squadron is meant to negate major events chronicled in the DC Comics of the 1940’s or since. If minor inconsistencies pop up occasionally – and they inevitably will – the pop-art historians of the future may rest assured that they’ll be dealt with, sooner or later.”

A comic creator who values his craft and the history of his company. I’m shedding tears of joy.

This issue, including the letters page, is essentially an info-dump on the heroes and Per Degaton.  A bit of action but mostly exposition.  Still enjoyed it.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Sahara (2005)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

On paper, Sahara sounds like a slam dunk. It’s Indiana Jones meets James Bond with big stars like Matthew McConaughey and Penelope Cruz and armed with a budget to make all the stunt-filled adventure come to life. In practice, it’s devoid of any joy or excitement. Director Breck Eisner makes 124 minutes feel so much longer than two hours.

In 1865, the ironclad CSS Texas disappeared with the last of the Confederacy’s treasury gold. In present day, Dirk Pitt (Matthew McConaughey) has finally found a clue to its final resting place: Mali. With his longtime bud and fellow treasure-hunter Al Giordino (Steve Zahn), he investigates. Along the way, the meet WHO doctor Eva Rojas (Penelope Cruz) as she investigates a mysterious plague she fears will soon ravage the country.

Based on the novel by Clive Cussler, this film adaptation tries to do too much. Sahara is essentially two movies slammed together. The first is a swashbuckling adventure in the vein of Indiana Jones. Boat chases, car chases, fist fights, impromptu survival techniques in the desert and a long-lost treasure? There’s no mistaking it. The other movie has an inconspicuous, beautiful doctor embroiled in a plot that begins as a threat to Africa but could endanger the whole world and includes a solar-powered laser beam, a mad dictator and businessmen devoid of morals. The problem is that these two plots exist independently and are not well blended. In one scene, Dirk and Al are dodging entire clips’ worth of bullets with big smiles while coming up with crazy ways to take down the villains on their tail by blowing up their own boat. In the next, a single bullet is treated with enough gravitas to give you a headache.

Also problematic are the actors. Matthew McConaughey and Penelope Cruz are talented actors. Here? they’re awful. They’re even worse together. They have no chemistry whatsoever, which makes their plots feel even more akin to a mix of oil and water. You know they’re going to fall in love from the beginning but you’ll believe a metal boat from the American Civil War will make it across the ocean on no rations before you’ll believe that romance.

From the unfunny humor meant to endear you to the characters to the action scenes that prove the actors couldn’t throw a decent punch if their lives depended on it, Sahara suffers from major problems. It also gets the little things wrong. When Commander Rudi Gunn (Rain Wilson) approaches the United States Embassy for help, he's warned it’s unlikely aid will arrive in time because “No one gives a shit about Africa”. They're not wrong. Even this movie doesn't care about Mali or its people because moments later, we learn the thing that’s gruesomely killing en-masse will soon spread to the entire world. So it wasn’t enough that Mali would become the world's biggest graveyard; the entire human race has to be at risk? Yikes.

Then, there’s the climax. This is one of those movies where the villains must have the greatest employee benefits package of all time because the baddie's top bodyguard decides to get into a fistfight on top of a building that’s rigged to explode in a few minutes. How was he going to get out of there once he got the job done?

I can give a movie slack and accept a preposterous story but you’ve got to give me something in return. When your actors have no chemistry between them, the bad guys are completely forgettable, the humour falls flat on its face, the action scenes are badly shot & choreographed and none of what you see is interesting, you want to find some way to entertain yourself, perhaps by having some laughs at the film’s expense. You'd think it'd be easy when the Los Angeles Times listed this film as one of the most expensive flops of all time but you'd be wrong. Sahara is too dull to provide any form of entertainment. (Full-screen version on DVD, January 29, 2021)

[delta-queerdrant]

we were investigating (The Cloud, s1, e6)

Despite its many errors, Season 1 of Voyager continues to be a pretty good time.

"The Cloud" is the one in which there is not, in fact, coffee in that nebula. The nebula storyline is utterly forgettable, but it works because it hooks into emotional stakes. Voyager is essentially on a mission of resource management, but each risky gamble to harvest energy/elements/leola root is accompanied by ethical consequences. Caring about the universe means embracing a spirit of slightly reckless adventure while attempting a Girl Scout ethic of "leave no trace." Sometimes this looks like breaking things and putting them back again.

Whether this good cowboy approach to starfaring (fly fast, die hard, leave a beautiful nebula) is really a morally consistent one may be debated, but certainly it's fun to watch Neelix and the Doctor fret as Voyager gets into yet another science fictional scrape. Ultimately, Neelix succumbs to the Star Trek magic and trades in his risk aversion for a tray of canapes. A morale officer is born.

"The Cloud" humanizes the crew in another way, showing Janeway attempting to strike the right balance between authority and camaraderie. Running a stranded ship with a blended crew as a dictatorship is a dumb problem to have, but it's Kathryn Janeway's dumb problem, and I have never not been a sucker for a strong, emotionally repressed woman. The voiceover opening is really lovely and begins to give us a sense of Voyager as place, both geographically and socially.

UNFORTUNATELY, Janeway's bid to maintain a sense of self is dramatized through her introduction to Chakotay's spirit guide ritual. This hits the right emotional note for the episode, and watching the pair whisper together on the bridge ("it's a date") is awfully cute. Still, what an appropriative mess. Not only is Chakotay's (paper-thin, pretendian) religious practice introduced for the sake of a white woman's character arc, but afterward, Janeway casually mentions to Harry Kim that he should hit up Chakotay for some spirit guide time, for all the world as if she is recommending a new exercise routine or fad diet rather than a closed religious practice.

I suspect this kind of cultural illiteracy is, to some extent, endemic to Star Trek. If your mission to explore strange new worlds, then, like a bad anthropologist, you will feel always, always entitled to witness. The problem is that if you witness without questioning your position as a witness, you're not a scientist at all - you're a tourist. In an episode about acknowledging harm and building relationships, Janeway's foray into Indigenous religion accomplishes neither.

Finally, in this episode we are introduced to Voyager's extremely cursed neighborhood watering hole, Sandrine's. This whole sequence is fucking weird. Tom Paris wakes Harry in the middle of the night (why) and drags him to the holodeck. Harry is actually very charming in this scene; he is a confident weirdo who is at home in the company of Paris, the ultimate confident weirdo.

We arrive in an aesthetically offensive bistro-bar-thing. Somewhere a Frenchman is ho-hoing, quietly, to himself. Two holographic ladies appear and enthusiastically attach themselves to Paris. What is happening here? Is this a midnight sex party? Has Tom brought Harry to... watch? Harry seems to think that this is a desperate cry for help and tries to talk about feelings. Paris, appalled, suggests a game of pool.

In the last scene, Sandrine's has become a communal hangout place. Janeway calls it "remarkable." The crew of Voyager have clearly entered a state of communal psychosis, as they can think of no more pleasant way to spend their leisure time than in Tom Paris's Francophobic wet dream. There are small reprieves - Janeway hustles Paris at pool, and Torres utters the deathless line, "He's a pig, and so are you." It is nevertheless the absolute fucking worst.

This episode gets 3 stuffed cardaway leaves out of 5. There's a lot to critique, but it does a good job articulating the mission statement of the show, such as it is, and Mollie the dog gets a shoutout during the climactic scene, so there's that.

[superhealthh]

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[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Meet Burger

Emmet, while trying to breed for the perfect Galvantula, runs into something all Pokemon breeders eventually experience.

Based on my actual Joltik plush I made because hes a little messed up but I adore him more than I can express with words

Word Count: ~1200

Emmet vibrated with excitement. He called Ingo into the room quickly, as they were now on a tight schedule. His brother quickly entered the space, eyes sparkling with a mirrored excitement that Emmet felt in his hands and feet, down to his teeth. They both turned their matching gazes to the object of interest. 

It was a small, yellow egg sitting in the basket on their bed. This one was the last to hatch from the last clutch Emmet had bred, attempting to get the perfect Joltik. He had always had an appreciation for the Pokemon, and he would verrry much like one with Cross Poison and an Adamant nature. He watched with bated breath. Ingo did too. 

The egg moved once. Twice. And then a small crack formed in the shell, more following soon after. Emmet clapped his hands and grinned widely. Was this it? The perfect Galvantula he wanted so badly? A small blue foot popped out of the shell, quickly followed by another, leading into a small fluffy yellow leg. And then the shell burst open, revealing a tiny baby Joltik. It clicked at them-

Emmet froze, looking at it. Something was verrry wrong. 

Its mandibles were oddly shaped, growing together and into each other rather than besides each other. Its eyes were verrry small compared to the rest of its body. Its legs were too short for it, as well, its head much more rounded than the normal Joltik. Emmet watched it as it looked around at its new surroundings and up at the twins. 

“Emmet?” Ingo was watching him now. 

“This isn’t normal.” Emmet carefully lifted the Joltik out of the basket and closer to his face to inspect it. It seemed to have bright eyes and was already giving off a low amount of static electricity, like a normal Joltik. But some of the differences were obvious, like the mouth and eyes. Emmet cocked his head at it. It cocked its head back, clicking at him awkwardly. It tried skittering forward on too-small legs, flailing as it found its footing. But it made it to where it needed to go, inching closer to Emmet’s face and nuzzling him. 

Emmet made up his mind. 

“Its name is Burger.”

“Are you going to use that one?” Ingo asked curiously. It was obvious he had noted the oddness about this Joltik. 

“Depends. If its what I was looking for, I don’t see why not. I need to ensure it can feed and grow properly. I have not lost a baby yet, and I will not start now. Burger is special. I will keep an eye on it.” 

—------------

Emmet looked up from his tablet at the table as Ingo trailed in. It was early morning, and Emmet was usually the first to rise. Ingo was not much of a morning person. His older twin walked in, scratching at his neck and yawning, nodding curtly at Emmet as he poured himself some liquid caffeine. Emmet waved back silently, watching the creature by him drink. 

As it turned out, Burger had a hard time consuming solid foods, so Emmet had improvised. He blended Berries and Poffins every day, ensuring that Burger got the proper nutrition it needed. Already, it was much larger than it had been a month ago. It never quite grew out of the odd proportionings of its body, but Emmet had gotten it looked over by a Pokevet, who had given it a clean bill of health. It had a different method of locomotion compared to the other Joltik due to its shorter stature, but it could see just fine and it had a voracious appetite. 

Emmet had also asked if he had done anything to cause Burger’s abnormalities. The doctor had explained that with Pokemon breeding, sometimes these things just happen. She ensured him that he was doing all the things he should to make sure Burger was happy and healthy. 

Like right now. Emmet stroked Burger’s back as it drank greedily from the morning porridge Emmet gave it, clicking its mandibles in happiness. It was making a mess of its fur, but Emmet did not mind. He had a hand towel on the table reserved for Burger to eat over. Burger was growing much faster than other Joltik, but it seemed to be slowing down as it reached full size. It looked like it would end up being a couple inches longer than the average Joltik (which, for this Pokemon, is a huge difference), and a good deal heavier. As long as it did not encumber its ability to move about, Emmet allowed it to do as it pleased. 

Emmet found that Burger had a special bond with him now. It loved to ride around on his back and did not hesitate to crawl up his clothes, even while he was walking. It was always attached to him in some way if he was at home. He had not brought it to the Subway yet, as it was too young (it could easily get hurt! All passengers are to remain in safe conditions at all times!). Usually, about two months after hatching, he would bring the Joltik he decided to release into the Subway to live out their lives in the tunnels. He did not yet know if he would do this with Burger. Not only was he concerned that Burger may not be able to optimally survive in the wild, but… Emmet loved the little guy. 

It was definitely not the average Joltik, but Emmet had grown to adore it. He always fed it extra snacks, gave it more pets, and even would put it in his hair or his shirt pocket throughout the day so it could ride around wherever he went and he would always feel it curl up against his neck as he slept. 

Emmet felt the smile return to his face as Burger finished its meal, allowing him to wipe its mandibles clean before it scuttled up his arm and nestled into the warm spot by his neck. He tickled its plump side. Ingo sat and watched them, gaze not showing anything, as he still had not had any caffeine. 

It was several minutes before either spoke. Ingo was, unsurprisingly, the first. “Do you think you will release Burger like you have the others? You mentioned it does not know Cross Poison and you wanted that in a Galvantula.”

“I will not be using Burger competitively. It does not know Cross Poison and has a Jolly nature. I do not know if it wishes for me to release it. If it does not, I am willing to make an exception for it.” 

Ingo chuckled. “I do not mind its company, either. It is certainly a lively little one.” Burger waved its front two legs at Ingo, clicking happily in his direction. “We will have to see what it decides, I suppose. In the meantime, you are more than welcome, Burger.” 

It clicked again and crawled into Emmet’s breast pocket to nap off all the Berry it had just consumed. Emmet smiled softly, reaching in with two fingers to pet the odd Joltik. “Yes. You are welcome to stay here, Burger. As long as you like.”

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Prayers for poor Olga 🙏🏾

Warnings: blood, violence, straight up murder

Word Count: 4096

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Chapter 13: Öga för Öga

Clicking steps echoed the hall Sir Reginald Hargreeves currently walked down, leaving a very discontent Five behind. Once the man disappeared down the hall, the boy left the lounge, growling and rubbing the back of his neck. Mind racing, he hopped on the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Just as the doors were about to close, (Y/N) slipped between them, Pennycrumb under her arm, and grasped onto Five’s arm. Eyes wide, the boy watched her in shock. “(Y/N)? I thought you left already. What are you doing?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispered. “Five, I’m sorry… about lying to you. I-I was gonna tell you all about living with Dad a-and being adopted by him again, but then I didn’t and it was selfish and stupid-”

“(Y/N)-”

“But what I’m sorry about the most was for not speaking up about us. It wasn’t fair to you,” She shook her head. “I just… I’ve been doubtful about us lately. It’s like, everyone’s saying we shouldn’t be together… And after hearing it for so long…”

Five placed his hands on her shoulders firmly. “No,” He breathed. “I’ve waited too long for this, dammit. Listen to me, (Y/N). Don’t let what others say determine your opinions. What we have is fine. I know it seems fucked up, I know it seems wrong. But does any of this ever feel wrong to you?”

Glancing up at him, she shook her head. “No…”

“Exactly. This… Our entire upbringing was so dysfunctional and confusing. Nothing ever felt like true family. We were strangers in our own childhood home. We’re just now behaving like an actual family unit and it’s still confusing. So, no one has the right to tell us how to love. Especially not Reginald Hargreeves. The man who caused this.”

The two rested their foreheads against each other as the elevator doors opened, but they didn’t bother leaving just yet. As the doors closed again, (Y/N) sniffled. “So, you’ve never thought this wasn’t going to last?”

“I’ve never, ever doubted us. I know… compared to you, I know next to nothing about love. But this? This is real. And I promise you, Starlight, once the timeline is restored… I’m making this official. If you’ll have me.”

Snapping her head up, (Y/N) let her tears fall. “Are you… You’re serious?” She grinned. When Five nodded, she quickly elevated herself on her toes and pecked his lips repeatedly. “Yes. Finally.” She whispered. Five grinned and tightened his hold on her, blinking them both out of the building and outside.

“Well, then, why don’t we speed up the process? Here’s what's going to happen,” He started and pulled away, gently wiping her tears away. “I’m about to meet up with The Handler. She offered me a deal to kill the entire board of directors of the Commission in exchange for a briefcase to get us all home to 2019. No more World War III, no more apocalypse.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her pup, who peered up at her, tongue hanging from his mouth. “How can you trust her?”

“I don’t know if I even should. But I’ll have to. She’s our only… our only option.”

From the way he sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, she could tell he was already regretting his decision. Gently caressing his cheek, she offered him a small smile. “You don’t want to kill, do you?” She whispered, receiving the shake of a head as an answer. “I-I don’t even know what to say to that… Just… Just know that I won’t think any differently of you. You’ll still be my Five. And I’ll be right there beside you if you need me.”

“My god, I don’t deserve you…” He sighed. Quietly chuckling, (Y/N) set her pet down and pulled Five into a hug. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I appreciate you, I really do. I’m gonna get us out of here, but I don’t want you helping me on this. The Handler already knows about you. I can’t have her using you or anything like that against me. So… just wait for me.”

“Wait? Five, I can’t just let you do something like this alone.”

“I know I’ve asked you too many times at this point, but this will be the last. I promise I’ll get you as soon as I come back.” The boy tried a smile as he pulled away. When she gently bit her lip, he sighed. “(Y/N), you can’t come. I’m sorry, but you’ll be by my side after this is over. I promise, okay?”

She shifted her eyes away from him. “You don’t have to keep promising. I trust you.” She whispered. Five exhaled and gently picked up Mr Pennycrumb, placing him in her arms before pecking his love on the lips. With a small smile, he turned around to leave. Just as he blinked away, (Y/N) very gently pinched the back of his blaser, allowing herself and her pet to be teleported with him.

(Y/N) considered herself very lucky for the fact that Five hadn’t noticed her presence. Or maybe she had her stealth to thank. She would quickly duck behind walls, corners, tables and so on whenever she felt that Five was becoming suspicious of her. After all, she knew him like the back of her hand; she could tell when he was subtly glancing over his shoulder or out of the corner of his eye. She waited outside the door of the room the boy had entered, keeping her hand over her pet’s mouth to silence him as she attempted to eavesdrop on the muffled conversation between Five and who she assumed was The Handler.

She had to admit, it did set her blood boiling at the thought of him being alone in that room with another woman, but she knew he would never be disloyal to her. Not after his confession and proposal. So, she shook off her jealousy and hid once again when he exited the room, briefcase in hand.

She gave herself a great pat on the back when she successfully managed to blink with him for the second time. And the third. And when he used the briefcase to teleport. By this point, she was light-headed and nursing her whimpering pup as she followed Five from a distance. She had no idea where or when they were, but judging by the cars people drove and the hairstyles they wore, she wasn’t in the sixties anymore. Most likely the late seventies or early eighties, she assumed.

Setting Mr Pennycrumb on the ground, (Y/N) grabbed hold of his leash and kept a close eye on her love as she blended in as a teenage girl, in outdated clothing, walking her puppy towards an inn. After watching Five enter, she walked onto the porch and sat herself in one of the rocking chairs. She tapped her fingers and toes to the rhythm of the upbeat polka music sounding from the inside. To pass the time, she reviewed tricks with Mr Pennycrumb, clapping and excitedly petting him in praise whenever he’d succeed. What the puppy expected, though, was a treat. It was then that she realized neither of them had eaten in quite some time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby…” She whispered to the pup, who only whined and pawed at her ankles. Huffing, she jumped to her feet and led the two of them inside. Everyone seemed to be dressed for polka dancing, considering their attire and the music playing from a nearby room. With a polka party, there had to be food. Turning to her left, she was met with a nest of blonde curls. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Well, hi there,” The woman looked up with a jolly smile. “I just told the young man before you, we don’t put out the cookies until three.”

“That’s amazing,” (Y/N) smiled. “I was actually wondering where the… polka dancing takes place.”

The woman assessed the young girl with a raised brow. “Very… interesting choice of clothing. And I’m afraid we can’t allow the dog.”

“Ah- Yes, my mom’s actually in there with my clothes. I just need to find her and change. And this is her… service dog.”

“He looks a little young to be a service dog, sweetie.”

“That’s what I told the doctor,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling down at her pup. “But he does his job very well for the cute little thing he is. However, he cannot do his job if he isn’t at my mom’s side, so…”

Sighing, the woman gestured to her left. “All the way down that hall, dear. Just keep an eye on the dog, will ya?”

“Of course. Thank you.” She nodded before leading her and Pennycrumb in the direction of the room jumping with cheery music and the clicking of dancing feet. She found herself a table in the corner of the room after meandering her way past attendees. Just as she sat herself down, she was greeted by smiling faces, allowing them to gush over and pet her puppy. This eventually resulted in them wanting to feed him their scraps of food, much to her delight.

(Y/N) helped herself to the buffet as she watched the door carefully, wanting to keep an eye on Five’s whereabouts. What she didn’t expect after eating the majority of her plate was to be pulled onto the dance floor. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she genuinely had a blast learning to polka dance, as embarrassing as it was to her. She caught on rather quickly and allowed herself three dances before she politely excused herself, collected her dog, and crept out of the room. Just as she entered the hall again, she saw the blonde attendant from earlier storming away from a broken vending machine and into a room for a meeting labeled ‘Midwest Soybean Society’.

That doesn’t even sound like a real thing, she thought. That must be where the board is meeting.

Deciding to wait out Five’s ‘work’, she strolled over to the vending machine, wincing at the broken glass that once contained the delicious snacks inside. Squinting her eyes, she noticed a certain candy bar, the Fudge Nutter, was leaning just out of its slot. It was just hanging by a thread. That’s when (Y/N) realized, Five hadn’t eaten in a while either. This must’ve been his doing. Using her foot, she kicked the glass out of the way and stuck her hand in, plucking the candy out of its place and pocketing it. Just when she did so, she heard Mr Pennycrumb’s barks aimed in front of them. (Y/N) blinked at the sight before her.

A man- could she even call him that? - with a fish tank holding a goldfish for a head came running in her direction in a panicked hurry, huffing and puffing through what looked to be an intercom of some sort. Tightening her hold on the leash, she swirled her way in front of the fish-man any time he’d change his direction. “Out of my way!” He hissed, but (Y/N) continued to block his path until Five blinked right in front of her. From where she stood behind him, she saw that he was drenched in blood and could only imagine what he looked like from the front. The boy clutched a paddle in his hands, his movements fidgeting. The fish-man gasped in shock at the boy. “Surely, we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties,” His British accent quivered. “Quid pro quo? What do you say?”

“Why not?” Five shrugged. “Here’s your quid.” The boy swung the paddle into the man’s side, eliciting a shriek from him. “Here’s your pro.” Then to his leg, sending him to his knees. “And here’s your quo.”

“No! No! Please, don’t!” He whimpered as Five aimed the paddle to his glass tank containing the goldfish. “No!” He cried as the boy smashed the paddle through the tank, glass shattering and water pouring all around. The body fell to the ground with a thud as well as the goldfish. Five loomed over the fish just as Mr Pennycrumb happily barked and skittered to the boy. Blinking, he turned to the dog in confusion.

“Mr Pennycrumb?” He whispered. From his peripheral, he spotted (Y/N) joining his side. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?! How did you even-”

“I’m surprised I made it this far,” She hummed and crouched down, a bag of water in her hand she had fetched the moment Five had blinked into the hallway. “No, baby, you just ate. You fatty.” She chuckled and gently pushed her very hyper golden retriever away, preventing him from gobbling down the fish.

Five watched as she delicately picked AJ up with her index finger and thumb, plopping him into the bag of water before holding it closed. “What’s the poor bastard’s name?” She asked and stood to her feet. Five let out a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling.

“AJ Carmichael…”

“Well, then… It’s nice to meet you, AJ.” She whispered to the bag. The teens quickly looked up when two giggling women exited the polka association room. They stopped in their tracks, observed the scene, and headed straight back inside without a word spoken. (Y/N) sighed and handed the bag over to her love before picking up her pup’s leash. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She perked up and fished the candy out of her pocket, tucking it into Five’s instead.

“For your hard work.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Not a word was spoken between the two after Five took them back to 1963 via the briefcase. “Why couldn’t we just use this to get back home?”

“Because of that,” He pointed to the case that sat on the gravel before them. It shook and sputtered and crackled, an electric blue light emanating and swallowing it whole until it was gone. “She’d never hand me a ticket out of here until she got what she wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess I should’ve thought of that…” (Y/N) whispered and turned away.

They stood in the middle of an alleyway, awaiting The Handler’s arrival as (Y/N) took her handkerchief out of her breast pocket and began ridding Five’s face of the blood splatter the best she could. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers no matter how hard she tried to capture them. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, with the way his brows scrunched and his bloodied fingers rubbed against each other. Once she finished what she could of his face, she gently took his hands in hers and cleaned those as well. Their eyes finally met, both pairs filled with concern for the other, just before the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard.

The Handler, in all her glory, walked towards the two, briefcase in hand. Five wouldn’t even face her, even went as far as to keep his back towards her even after she stopped to stand in front of (Y/N). “We meet again, dear.”

“I had a feeling…”

“Do you bring the mutt everywhere you go?”

(Y/N) shrugged at her pet, who was busy scratching himself behind his ear. The Handler hummed and turned to Five. “Well?”

Without a word, the boy stretched his arm that held the bag behind him. The Handler gasped and set the briefcase down, moving her veil out of the way and taking the bag into her hands. She cackled, cooed and sighed at poor AJ before settling her sights on Five, who was now turned to face her. “You know, you’re really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours. Isn’t he, (Y/N)?”

Said girl only watched her love, who looked anywhere but at her. She realized he was ashamed, he was regretful. The Handler frowned at him, hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with him? He’s never this quiet after a job like this. I thought you’d be buzzing after this morning’s slaughter, Five.”

“All this killing,” Five sighed. “I’m done with it.”

The Handler raised her brows and moved forward, going to caress his cheek as she usually did, but (Y/N) stepped to his side, hand firmly on his arm. Chuckling, she turned back to Five. “Am I supposed to take that seriously?”

“What I did today, I did for my family. I did it to save the world.”

“Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?” She tapped his nose before picking up the briefcase and stretching it towards them. “Here. Per our agreement, this will get you, your siblings, and dear (Y/N) back to 2019.”

To spare him the humiliation of taking the briefcase, (Y/N) did it herself, glaring at the woman.

“You have ninety minutes.”

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped as Five snapped his head up. The Handler turned to walk away as he quickly followed her. “You said nothing about a time limit!”

Glancing at her watch, she smiled. “Actually, you have eighty-nine minutes and thirty seconds. Better hurry.”

“You fucking-”

“This is impossible, okay?!” Five interrupted (Y/N)’s insult in a panic. “My siblings are scattered across the city!”

“Nothing’s impossible. You proved that this morning when you killed the board.”

“I need more time.” Five rushed, glancing at his love for a moment, the girl clutching the briefcase in one hand, Pennycrumb’s leash in the other.

“Any more time, and people will start asking questions,” The Handler’s neutral tone contradicted Five’s rushed, panicked voice. “The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off we’ll both be, so ticktock, ticktock.”

Growling, Five charged up to (Y/N), the girl watching as the she-devil happily waved at them before Five blinked them out of the alleyway. The blood-scrawled message on Elliott’s floor was hard not to notice when they appeared in his home. (Y/N) widened her eyes at the message written in Swedish:

ÖGA FÖR ÖGA

Five snatched the briefcase from her hold and sighed before he hurried up the steps. (Y/N) followed close behind, the voices of Diego and Luther becoming more apparent the closer they got. Reaching the top of the stairs, they noticed a chair with a sheet-covered figure laying in it. (Y/N) dropped the leash and approached the chair, slowly uncovering the figure and gasping at the sight of a bloodied Elliott. His face was frozen in agony, the light within his dark eyes vanished. She and Five let out a simultaneous ‘damn’ before she covered him back up. “The three psychopaths…”

She looked up as Five wandered the lounge room, searching for a safe place to store the briefcase. As he did so, (Y/N) entered the kitchen, watching her brothers share a single brain cell.

“My name? Is, uh, Luther Hargreeves, and-”

Diego snatched the phone out of Luther’s hand and put it up to his own ear. “You killed one of ours, Olga,” The misinterpretation had (Y/N) rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “Now we’re coming after you. You will be dead by nightfall.”

“Hey!” Five called as he entered the kitchen, beginning to take off his blaser. “It’s Öga För Öga, idiots. Swedish for ‘an eye for an eye’.”

(Y/N) moved behind him and assisted in removing his blaser, glancing up at her brothers. “The Swedes killed Elliott. Not poor Olga.” As she pulled off Five’s vest for him, Diego slowly turned back towards the wall.

“Wrong number. Have a lovely day.” He smiled before hanging up the phone. (Y/N) scoffed and held the boy’s clothes out of his reach when he tried to take them.

“Shower.” She demanded, Five clenching his fists.

“(Y/N), we don’t have time-”

“We’ll have plenty of time. You shower while I wash the blood out.” She explained and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Five gently swatted her hands away.

“I can undress myself!”

“Then hurry and give me your disgusting clothes!”

“Fine!”

Five scoffed and moved around his brothers, ignoring whatever they had been calling out to him. (Y/N) shook her head and set her love’s clothes into Elliott’s kitchen sink. Diego and Luther leaned against the counter on either side of her as she began washing the blood from the vest.

“You gonna explain what the hell happened?” Diego whispered.

“Why’s he covered in blood?” Luther leaned closer.

“I tried to clean it, I really did.” (Y/N) shrugged.

The brothers gave each other a look before moving their attention back to their sister. Luther cleared his throat. “How’d he, uh… get the blood on him?”

She didn’t give him an explanation, though, and picked up the pile of clothes Five had just dumped outside of the bathroom door before returning to the sink. When the two saw she wasn’t going to speak on Five’s behalf, they both sighed and left her to her work.

Despite his irritation, the boy couldn’t help the swelling of his heart when he cracked the bathroom door open to find his slightly damp, but clean clothes neatly folded on the floor. Grabbing the clothes, he quickly tugged the uniform back on, save for the tie and blaser. Swinging the door open, he was met with a smirking (Y/N). He rolled his eyes as she approached him, taking his tie and putting it on for him. “Doesn’t that make you feel a bit better?”

“No,” He mumbled, but caught the amusement in her eyes. “Maybe a little… but it doesn’t matter because we’re losing time.”

“Well, sorry for not wanting you to smell like you just killed twelve people.” She whispered and pecked his lips, exiting the bathroom after his tie was fastened. Glancing in the mirror, Five adjusted his clothes as Luther did the same just outside the bathroom.

“So, I found a way home.”

“What? How?”

“All the details are irrelevant, but… I made a deal to get back to our timeline.”

(Y/N) watched from the lounge room as the boys spoke, gently petting her dog. Diego joined in the conversation as he pulled a jacket on. “What about doomsday?”

“Won’t happen.”

“And the 2019 apocalypse?”

“Everything will be back to normal,” Five sighed and exited the bathroom, blaser in hand. “Now no more questions. We gotta go. We have to find the others, right? Luther, you get Allison. Diego, Klaus. I’ll get Vanya. Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in seventy-seven minutes.” He pulled on the blaser and picked up four watches, handing one to each person in the room. “I’ve synchronized these watches.”

(Y/N) stood to her feet once the watch was given to her. “Five, what should I do?” She raised her brows. Five shook his head and busied himself with fastening the watch on her wrist.

“Starlight, I want you to gather your things, say your goodbyes to Mr Pennycrumb, and meet back in the alleyway as soon as possible-”

“Wait, what? We’re leaving Penny?” She widened her eyes. Five exhaled through his nose and wordlessly nodded. “Five, why? N-Nothing will happen, he’s just a dog.”

His eyes flicked up to her when her voice broke, his hands coming up to hold her jaw. “He may be just a dog, Starlight, but he isn’t insignificant. Every little yawn he takes, every bark he makes… it all matters, okay? We can’t risk it. I know Mr Pennycrumb was a comfort for you and I’m so sorry… but we can’t take him.”

(Y/N) shakily inhaled, desperately trying to blink back the tears in her eyes, but Five saw them long before she even noticed. Glancing down, he saw the puppy chewing at the toe of his shoe. With the utmost care, Five picked the puppy up and placed him into her arms before leaning down to look into his eyes. “Thanks, buddy… for taking care of her,” He reached forward, Pennycrumb instantly nuzzling his nose into his hand. “You did what I couldn’t. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Goodbye, Mr Pennycrumb.”

“I’m glad you two met.” (Y/N) whispered. Five smiled and sweetly kissed her before stepping back. Clearing her throat, she held her puppy close and walked down the stairs. She only allowed herself to cry when she stepped outside, the door shutting behind her.

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