#anyway this one is sort of rough in terms of rendering

[mayordea]

“go on, praise me like a god!”

[tylonpharma]

I dwelled more on that hokey dream and I have the rough beginnings for a short comic in my head

>we see *werewolf ripping shirt* meme and she's in the back like, woe, I didn't make it in time, ara ara~

>cut to a hapless youth in shredded clothes nestled protectively on the couch between their parents

>the explanation! *expand a bit on this*

>the parents are furrowed, one of them wonders aloud, who's fault could this be?

>the other parent looks away in shame, "come to think of it, I my great-grandparent was--" and in the background is *werewolf ripping shirt* meme again but in sepia and old-timey clothes

>she cuts them off, "it's no one's fault!"

>something something, often it arises spontaneously. Conversely, many people test positive for the genes but go their whole lives without manifesting..... there's really no set cause (Trying to figure out the wording here to mention "skipping a generation")

>Some theorize that the seemingly recent increase is due to environmental factors, but that isn't confirmed (reference to gaia hypothesis bits in the lore)

>empathetically holding kids hand, "The cause isn't important, there's nothing wrong with being like this"

>Many of us perceive this as being chosen to pursue a higher calling, but you can just as easily live a normal life

>Anyways, *pile of papers come out* you're going to want to sort out an endocrinologist appt, here are some we confirmed are safe, here are some doctors-- *family is covered in papers* -- and if you have trouble paying, you can always reach out to us!

>more comforting hand holding; "Hey. Everything is going to be ok!"

>she leaves them to sort through the pamphlets, "ok toodles! ^_^ I'll check back in a few weeks!"

>she rings up gado, "yeah, it went well, the parents took it well, blabla....."

>Her tone trails off, he picks up on the shift in mood, "what's wrong?"

>No, just...

>I'm glad that the kids have it easier these days, it's all.

That last line is def supposed to be a reference to *looks into camera* Topical Issues lol. if you get it you get it. I had more of a mind for expanding on it but I ran out of steam lol

I also had a mind to toss in a line about some zoanthropy being transmissible, or the result of *story stuff* but I think she would try to not scare the family. They have a healthy child with a mammalian, presumably canidae form, no need to worry them

But for world-building, I did come to wonder how they handle intervention for people who end up with an unconventional form, or for people whose forms manifest essentially as a disability or chronic illness. Recently I've been mulling a lot on having been rendered physically disabled at a young age and idk how I'm supposed to come to terms with that lol

[nightmarefuele]

Few words can inform the whole of a moment and all its sprawls of subsequent future, so distant. Few words do what theirs does: Stalemate.

He has a limit to studying 'pretty' things. Were he farther away he might've deigned to question what made her so precious — that special side of pitiful. The way she dissects, seeks to categorize, to make sense, is as secret as she is neutral. He's seen acetic acids less distilled. Were he any closer — well.

He wouldn't be. Hazards are subtle things. Have their own languages. But the young mind is admirably plastic: it isn't any wonder that Jonathan Crane may be his own breed of polyglot. So this curling in his veins, then; an itch sifting between himself and his flesh, as if it would very much like to pull up, expose what is (or isn't) 'beneath'; is her. It isn't any wonder. He speaks a certain language. He just knows.

(Yet the degree of 'foreign' here is equivocating. Renders him just shy of taut, or whatever is more than he's used to, to tip his scales. Uncertainty en route. The cluster of scribbles nestled in a corner of her notebook pages, which outlines his face.)

'Jon' unwelcome touch

recalls waking-nightmare years and the ire of the father like a whip cracking.

Reluctance in the film reels behind his optics. They shutter but remain affixed to her, suddenly dogged, unblinking, as the rough heat of violence works itself through his thews.

“Do you like to count yourself on such personal bases with everyone who doesn't speak to you?”

The question is so soft it could easily be taken for genuine.

It's the first thing he says when she's concluded her speech — it's worth so much less than all that he doesn't. Eyes as alluring as liquid mercury. It is even beginning to bother that Jonathan cannot begin to recall her name. Film reels deferring back to this term's beginning, a roster, perchance? There is no information to recall. He took no interest in those names, or in her.

And it matters little anyway, because his ectomorph's slenderness translates something newly contradicting by way of slackening, like tightwires under his transpare-pale skin are loosed. He shifts his gaze. Pretends to anatomize the way she's dressed. His effect is nothing of the sort that looking away should inflict. “I agree. Unconditionally,” Jonathan says — and finds he means it. “How many people can we count on each our hands, you, and I, who haven't so much as conceived of the idea that purpose extends beyond the predicaments and typicalities of their . . .” An uncalculated beat. An odd, vague smile perks corners of his pout to somehow fuller heights. “. . . lives.” (The word, in its given context, really quite amuses.)

“I doubt very much that anyone loses sleep over petty thieves and substance abusers — not excluding, let's be clear, those who are otherwise behaviorally addicted — dying in alleyways. Rivers. And yet, so little distinguishes them from the upper echelons of gang and mob society.” Another beat. Smile in restrained motion. “Or every other. Nothing does. Save class, money, and, most of all, power.”

“But, perhaps then, if we were having a serious discussion, I would remind you that power buys favors. Cuts deals. And I might point out that, more often than not, in cities like this one: it's drug addicts, the mentally unstable, the 'wrong breed' of disabled, who end up doing the most time. So. Perhaps our ideal experimental environment requires more than, simply —”

The fragile, glass cut of his chin dips ever slightly. Just shy of pointed gesture.

“— a lack of rodents.”

It is not often that Beth savours the meat of jealousy, the way its shreds get caught in her teeth in this moment or presses against her gums. She could spend the next hour tearing it apart yet never find herself adequate to the task. She, least of all her Kin, is built to endure but not in the same ways. Too frail a human heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind comes the scoff, the unspoken I told you so. The cost of burying the derision isn't affordable. So instead she runs her tongue along the mismatched ivory behind her lips. Sharp tips scraping against wet muscle. Sweeps something away. Maybe herself. She isn't volcano red, but rather rust. Quiet in the blood, an ocean breaking into nothing. Nothing he can reach with those flickering stares. Ones that rise and fall and eventually only fall into the crevices that hold none of her depths. She can hear the splintering between them. And the ticking of the clock. The cars on the street. The silence of his breath. The muddled murmur of the pair behind them with no succinctness, just white noise. Better than the stalemate between them, no pieces moved, no sacrifice, no pawn. She glances askance and waits to see if someone is standing there with a black narrative card with dialogue picked out in paler font. It wouldn't be first phantasm seen out of the corner of her eye. Though in truth, she has to make note that she sees more than that too. Jonathan reminds her of the great houses that cluster just deep enough that they can't quite see Gotham beyond the bridges. Stone towers, covered in ivy whose roots are maybe too rotten from lack of light, an edifice that crumbles at the edges. Jonathan reminds her of the the dozen or so cadets that attempt every year to scratch and claw their way into the Admiral's good graces ~as if the man had any~ and should, just as easily, come and go without leaving so much as a scuff on the marble floors. Jonathan who- -gouges the faintest flinch from her when his voice wends its way around her, all midnight silk that clutches to its chest the a hoard of secrets, and chokes just a small breath from her. There's just enough pause for her focus to find it's way to his lips. So much fuller than her own and she realises now her proportions are just a touch off. That they seem thinner in profile. More pliable. She smiles. One that belongs in the water, swimming very fast, toward a floundering man. She wonders if Jon knows just how close he is to drowning. Her answer is cut on the haole-bias. "None of that 'shocks' me, Jon. Not when you only have to look around. Bowery, East End, Slaughter Swamp, Crime Alley. School-to-prison pipeline in Gotham is five times what it is in Metropolis an' other cities of comparable size. Between Blackgate Penitentiary an' Arkham…" Her hands come up, splayed wide. The star-chart lines of her palms are deep etched, there's just the faintest webbing between those small, slender digits. "Maybe instead of breeding and torturing animals who can't advocate for themselves, treating them in ways that would violate every human rights ethic imaginable, you offer death row inmates a commutation of sentence if they volunteer to undergo the processes and experiments. Clinical trials on the very people you're trying to treat seems far more effective to me than using helpless animals." Sunset shades the golden sand of her skin tone, suffusing her eyes with a spark, a gleam she's never shown in the first few weeks of class. This may also be the most she's spoken, the thoughts connecting faster in process. Hands come down, bridge on the tabletop, and she leans slightly forward. "World's already over crowded as it is, for once people ought to give something back, in the name of science and medicine, instead of take, take, take."

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (1)

"Is it possible to become a hero like you even without using any quirks?" Toshinori thought that it was a strange question. Strangely worded, and with too obvious an answer to be worth asking. Still, he stopped. The memory of a similarly naive middle-schooler from way too long ago made him pause. He shouldn't have paused. Another impossibly shrill scream erupted from the boy when Toshinori tried to reassure him of his identity, and turned up with a mouthful of blood instead. What a charming day this was proving to be. Almost an entire night spent awake due to his old wound deciding to make a fuss and disregard any sort of painkillers he threw at it, a frustrating morning followed by an equally frustrating afternoon he had struggled to navigate through with the alertness of a drunken sloth, which had caused him to get lost in the sewers while chasing a dangerous criminal, as well as fail to notice a whole human being sticking to his leg as he took off at the speed of several hundreds kilometres per hour, and now this.

Toshinori took a proper gander at the brand new crack in his privacy. He was a freckled, scrawny thing, with unruly green hair and enough jitters to be picked up by the nearest seismographs, probably.

"How... How? Is it- are you- are..." The boy stuttered, pale and physically shivering from the shock. "Is... was that your quirk? A transformation quirk?" He brought a hand to his mouth, subconsciously mimicking Toshinori as he wiped the blood from his lips. "That hurts you when you use it?" "...Something of the sort." It was an explanation as good as any. They stared at each other for a few moments, before the kid dropped his gaze and started muttering to himself. Toshinori could barely make out the words, but it seemed to be something about internet forums and theories about All Might's quirk. Toshinori sighed and sat down on the concrete, leaning his back against the railing to catch some much needed breath. There was no point in running off now, was there? He supposed the most sensible thing to do at this point was to have a little chat with the boy, if only to ascertain whether he was capable or willing to keep such a momentous secret. He waited for the boy to finish his quiet soliloquy... for two or three minutes, during which the onslaught of words didn't show any sign of dwindling. He politely cleared his throat, and the young man's attention was immediately back on him. "What's your name, boy?" "Uh... Izuku. Izuku Midoriya." "Midoriya." Toshinori acknowledged with a nod. "And you're quirkless, I take it." "Oh... Uh... Uhm..." Midoriya snappily clasped his hands behind his back and his eyes darted around as if caught stealing jam. It was an understandable reaction, if a tad overblown, Toshinori thought. Quirklessness was rare these days, and never something one could be proud of. His own powerlessness had frustrated him in his youth, and it positively tore at him in the present, now that his physical condition rendered him functionally quirkless for more than twenty hours a day. "Regarding your first question..." Toshinori paused, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Was there any way of putting this kindly? "Surely you realize the huge dangers and requirements that come with a hero's profession. Pros risk their lives every day, and in order to even make a livelihood out of it, they need to achieve a certain amount of success and visibility. Frankly, I'd advise anyone with a less than exceptional quirk, either in terms of combat ability or versatility, to think very carefully about undertaking this career path. To think of someone without a quirk attempting it..." Midoriya's head dropped again. "I... I see... But what if...?" The boy bit his lip and trailed off with a conflicted look. He shook his head, apparently reaching some private conclusion, and continued. "It's just... I've always admired you so much! Saving people with a fearless smile is just about the most inspiring and incredible thing one can do! If only everyone followed your example-" "I should hope they wouldn't have to!" Toshinori interjected decisively. "You know, the world I dream of is one where only few of the very strongest have to bear the hero's burden, so that all the more people can be free to enjoy their lives without fear or extreme sacrifices. We aren't there yet, not by a long shot, but..." He allowed himself a little smile. "I'm sure happy to know I'm inspiring courageous and driven citizens such as yourself." Midoriya's face immediately acquired a marked tomato hue. A small barrage of stuttered thanks followed. Toshinori raised a hand to stop him. "Look, kid. Your heart is in the right place and there's nothing worthier in life than pursuing your dreams, but... I cannot in good conscience encourage you to follow a path that would ultimately destroy you. You have no hope of becoming a hero - no hope to survive as a hero without a quirk, and a damn good one at that. As you can see..." Toshinori gestured towards himself, unable to keep his smile from turning sour. "Not even I can be a hero like me without using my quirk." Midoriya took it better than Toshinori was expecting, all things considered. Those anxious eyes roved around his gaunt form for a few moments, sympathetic and a tad disturbed. But the boy's features soon composed themselves into a look of calm thoughtfulness. "I understand." He nodded, straightening up his back, only to curl slightly upon himself all over when doubt reared its head again. "I guess... I'll just have to find a different solution..." "Indeed. If helping people is your goal, there are plenty of professions that regularly achieve that. Healthcare professionals, lawyers, policemen, firefighters, social workers-" "I know, I know..." Midoriya's expression became distant. No doubt it wasn't the first time he received such a speech. Children these days received their first career advice as early as primary school, during the mandatory quirk counselling sessions, to help them better understand how their abilities could be nurtured and directed into constructive endeavors for the benefit of the whole community. Now that Toshinori thought of it... did quirkless children like Midoriya even receive any such counselling? The program didn't exist when Toshinori himself was a kid, so he realized he didn't quite know. A lack of career counselling would explain the boy's irrealistic hopes. "If you are dead set on working in the heroics field, there are options there as well." Toshinori added, determined to do at least one thing right that day and offer the poor kid a grain of useful advice. "Have you considered working as a support item engineer or as a quirk analyst, for example? You certainly seem to have the qualities for jobs like these." "Uh? How can you say that?" "I took the liberty of flipping through your notebook before signing it." Toshinori tapped his temple as the boy's cheek tinged with pink again. He really wore his heart on his sleeve, didn't he? "You seem to have quite a well-organized mind, and keen observation skills. If I were you, I wouldn't underestimate how far those two talents could bring you in the right field." "Ah... Thank you! I- it's just a hobby, nothing more! But thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to answer my question! And give me advice! And listen to-" It devolved into another short stream of gratefulness and humility. Toshinori deemed his impromptu orientation session a job decently done and he finally stood up. His left side gave a sharp twinge. He couldn't wait to be back home, stun it with a generous helping of ibuprofen and hopefully catch up on a few hours of sl- ah crap, he'd left his grocery bag near the manhole he had emerged from, hadn't he? Maybe it would be quicker to just do the whole shopping again at the closest convenience store... "Now, about what you just saw..." Toshinori approached the boy, lowered his voice and scanned his surroundings automatically, as if there was anyone who could overhear them on the small rooftop they were standing on. "I don't think I need to point out that it would be really, really bad if voices of a secretly emaciated Symbol of Peace were to start circulating, on the web or by other venues-" Midoriya raised his head from the deep bow he had maintained for the last good minute, eyes wide. "O-oh! Of course-" "But I'm going to do it anyway. It would be really bad. Catastrophic. Not only for me, because I would know exactly who put the rumors forth and I would have some choice words for said source, smash being one of them." He had meant it in jest, but the terrified expression on Midoriya's face warned him not to put too much faith on the boy's sense of humour. He showed the palms of his hands in the universal gesture for I'm not going to smash anything. "...I'm joking! Obviously. But I do need to know if I can count on your utmost discretion." "O-Of course! Your secret is safe! I swear it on my life, All Might! No one will know!" There was no doubting the fervor radiating from Midoriya's every pore. Toshinori nodded and squeezed the boy's shoulder while also not-so-subtly pushing him towards the door to the stairs. "Good to know, good to know. Now, let us both be off." Toshinori moved towards the exit as well, patting the pocket of his cargo pants. "I have to hand this guy over to the nearest precinct before-" His hand patted rough cloth and the wiry muscle of his thigh, and nothing inbetween. Toshinori stopped in his tracks and checked his right pocket. Then his left one. Both empty. He gazed around the rooftop in confusion, noticing a clear lack of plastic containers on the barren expanse of concrete. "Hey, have you seen..." He started, glancing at Midoriya. Who was staring at his empty pockets in obvious distress, both hands covering his mouth as if to keep himself silent. Something cold gripped Toshinori's scrambled insides. "...the bottles... where..." Toshinori's sleep-deprived brain pieced it all together with frustrating slowness. Loose trousers pockets. Clingy boy. Hundreds of kilometres per hour. Gravity. RIght on cue, a loud explosion made them turn their heads in unison, and a black cloud of smoke erupted among a cluster of buildings a little to the south of the one they were standing on. "...Shit." A small part of Toshinori's mind added 'cursing in front of a child' to the impressive streak of fuck-ups he was accumulating in a single day, but most of his evidently dwindling faculties were busy trying to come up with a way to unravel the current predicament. He marched to the door without wasting another moment. "Go home. Take a detour if you have to, just stay well away from there." "It's my fault." Once again, despite Toshinori's better judgement, the boy's words compelled him stop. Even muffled by Midoriya's hands, his whispers sounded positively agonized. "I made you drop them. It's my fault. Oh God, what do I...?" "What? Don't be absurd! You didn't do anything, I should have-" It came out more harshly than he thought, and the kid's horrified eyes snapped back to him. God, he hated seeing him blame himself for what was clearly Toshinori's blunder - a blunder unworthy of the greenest of rookies, let alone of the celebrated number one hero - but there was really no time to waste self-recriminating. "Look, just go home. I'll-" "I can't! None of this would have happened if I'd just-" Midoriya burst out, halting his own words just as abruptly and wringing his hands guiltily. "I have to help! I can help! Let me-" "All right then." Toshinori said, and his ready agreement shocked the boy into silence just as he had expected. Telling him to wait around and do nothing wasn't going to work with that hero-obsessed mentality of his, so he chose a different approach. "Here's what you'll do. You'll stay here until you've calmed down enough to keep your wits about you. Then you'll go to the nearest police station - there's one just over there - and tell the officers what just happened. Minus the part where you've seen me like this, obviously-" "How's that going to help?! They can see the smoke, by the time I get there they'll already know-" "We don't know if that explosion is the villain's doing. It might be unrelated, and in that case the villain would be still at large." Toshinori explained with his most commanding tone, despite the urge to dash off. "Even if it is connected to the villain, I scooped him up into two bottles. We don't know if each half is capable of causing damage on its own. You have to alert the police so that they can start searching for both as quickly as possible. I'll take care of whatever that accident is." Despite the panic, Midoriya seemed to process his words. He gulped, and gave him a worried once-over. "But... can you fight again? Even like that?" "Tsk! I'd expect more trust from a fan." One more for the road, Toshinori coached himself. He reached into his quirk and flexed, his muscle form puffing up dutifully and his trademark smile slotting back in place. He gave the boy a confident thumbs up. "I'll have this solved before you can blink!" Toshinori flung himself down the stairway before Midoriya could come up with more objections. He managed five flights of stairs before his quirk failed him again and one hundred and eighty kilos of muscles went up in steam. He stumbled as he coughed up more blood, his scar hurting like it was trying to murder him, but he didn't stop. Hopefully the boy would follow his orders and make himself marginally useful, and more importantly he would keep himself out of trouble and away from the danger zone. Meanwhile, Toshinori... well, he'd have to clean up his own mess in some way or another.

Izuku stood stock-still for a good minute before his body reconnected to his brain. A lot had happened in the last half an hour, there was... there was a lot to unpack there. First things first, his duty. The admittedly sensible instructions given to him by All Might himself. Point number one was regaining a semblance of lucidity. His legs felt like jelly, so he simply let himself slump to the ground and breathe deeply. Never in a million years, not even in the darkest and most conspiratorial corners of the net, Izuku would have ever imagined to discover what he had discovered about All Might. All Might had a quirk... that debilitated him? Some sort of temporary performance-enhancing boost that wore his body down whenever he used it? Because what Izuku had just seen wasn't the body of a healthy person, not even remotely. Pale, hunched, with barely any flesh hanging from his still oversized bones, with sunken eyes and non-existent cheeks. Totally unperturbed by the gush of blood spurting from his mouth, as if that was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. Was it the result of decades of continued usage? Was Japan's Symbol of Peace constantly and deliberately harming himself in order to do his job? Izuku had experienced firsthand that powerful quirks came with unforeseen drawbacks, but this... this was... This was none of his business, Izuku chided himself. All Might was... All Might. Number one hero. An unprecedent and yet unsurpassed phenomenon. He knew what he was doing, for sure. It was presumptuous of Izuku to even doubt that he did. He had said he would take care of things, and he was certainly going to. Izuku scratched his head furiously, as if to rid himself of those intrusive thoughts. He felt better, more grounded. Time to move onto step two. He made his way down the stairs and out of the building, slowly, mindful of the lingering dizziness, careful not to trip and cause himself and others further troubles. The street was full of curious onlookers glancing at the rising column of smoke, filming it with their phones and chattering about it among themselves. Luckily, Izuku spotted a policeman almost immediately, as he was busy trying to disperse the small crowds and redirect the traffic. He recounted his tale, purged from gossip-inducing details, to the zealous officer, who promptly reported it to his superiors via his radio. There, he'd accomplished his task. Quick and effortless. The last item on his to-do last was heading home. Izuku stood on the sidewalk, contemplating the enlarging black cloud. Smaller explosions could still be heard popping in the air now and then. It had been at least ten minutes since All Might's departure and, judging by the heated talking coming from the officer nearby, the crisis hadn't been solved yet. Izuku thought back of how All Might had left the building using the stairs, instead of one of his much quicker, much more efficient leaps. A gnarling unease gripped his stomach, and his feet started moving on their own. He just couldn't get it out of his head. His idol's shrunken body, the immense tiredness that seeped through his every movement when in that form, his stern request for discretion. Your very life and safety may depend on your discretion, Izuku. Izuku shivered. Accidents aside, he had acted for the best, hadn't he? Despite everything... Civilians were not allowed to use quirks freely on public grounds, even though exceptions could be made in case of blatant self-defense. But even if he had used his quirk to stop the sludge villain by himself, what would he have done afterwards? He doubted he could use his newly acquired quirk effectively, and in a quirkless fight against an adult, he would have gotten the short end of the stick anyway. Not to mention the aftermath. Questions. His quirk revealed. Suspicion and distrust. Izuku's legs brought him to the site of the accident in a rushed daze, as his thoughts wandered in circles. He peered beyond the crowd of onlookers, and the scene he witnessed froze the blood in his veins. It was a disaster. The sludge villain was indeed responsible for it, and he had a hostage as well, tightly wrapped in layers and layers of goo. Numerous fires surrounded the captor and his victim, the heat and destruction giving them an almost hellish appearance. Almost half a dozen of heroes were already involved, but none of them seemed capable of creating an opening or coming up with a plan to face the situation. A veritable tragedy was unfolding before everyone's eyes, and no one was moving an inch to stop it. Izuku gazed around in a frenzy, searching for the one man who could and would solve it all. He spotted him quickly enough, his wild blond mane making him easy to pinpoint even with his gaunt frame huddled against a wall. All Might, the number one hero, looked like he was barely managing to stand on his feet. Hunched over, jaw clenched, one hand holding onto the nearest lamppost, the other clutching his side tightly, bright blue eyes dimmed in frustration and trained on the grim spectacle unfolding in the fiery lane. The sight dispelled any remaining doubt in Izuku's mind. All Might couldn't intervene. He couldn't use his quirk freely, either because of some pre-existing hard limit, or in fear of the repercussions it would have on his body. He had had to waste some of his limited stamina to save Izuku earlier that day - save him from a danger that Izuku could have, should have at least tried to handle himself - and now he was too drained to help. And the current hostage was paying for that - Izuku's heart nearly stopped as said hostage suddenly thrashed about enough to free a small portion of his face, enough for Izuku to recognize him, as more explosions boomed and set ablaze more of the surrounding buildings. Kacchan. Izuku moved without thinking, his mind blank. In that moment, he couldn't think about anything - not his father's recommendation, not his fear of exposure, not his weakness or inexperience, not the Symbol of Peace, not even his crushing guilt - except one thing. He couldn't let Kacchan die for his mistakes. A lot happened, very quickly, too quickly for him to process. The crowd and the heroes screamed. The villain saw him and readied a blow. Izuku barely dodged it by bodily throwing himself to the side, blindly. He landed hard on something that felt like overheated metal, but it didn't hurt too much. A slimy arm impacted solidly against the asphalt, missing him by mere centimetres. Goo from the monstruous limb splattered all around, staining his clothes. Without thinking, he reached for the green mass with both hands, let his palms sink into it, closed his eyed to focus and just did it. There was a strong gust of wind, as if a very fast car had suddenly raced past him and barely missed him, at the same time as he heard the asphalt crack a little to his left. Suddenly, all went perfectly still and silent. Izuku gulped, and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was All Might's massive back. Roaring muscles filling his oversized clothes amidst thin strands of steam, the hero was standing in full bulk right between him and the villain, his right arm raised and poised as if charging a punch, but completely motionless. There was no more sludge around Izuku's hands, nor anywhere in the street. Peeking between All Might's legs, Izuku saw Kacchan twitching weakly on the ground, and another person standing beside him. A thin, flabby-looking guy, with an ashen complexion and not a single hair on his head, face or bare chest. A blood-curling scream erupted from the man's - the villain's - mouth. As he stared in stark horror at himself - probably seeing his human limbs for the first time in his life, Izuku realized - the weird silence and stillness instantly receded. The heroes rushed forward to help Kacchan and apprehend the panicking criminal, the crowd cheered, and All Might turned to look at Izuku. There was no smile on his face. Izuku had never seen the Symbol of Peace without his usual cheery attitude. He realized the hero looked a lot less reassuring without it, and a lot more... purely, bleakly intimidating. The sheer magnitude of what Izuku had just done suddenly hit him like a train. He scrambled to his feet, heart beating wildly in his chest, and sprinted towards the closest alley. He heard All Might's voice calling to him, but he ignored it and ran, ran until his lungs burned with the effort and the tears made it impossible to see where he was going.

An undefined number of streets and turns and forks later, Izuku stopped. He collapsed against the closest wall, gasping for air and clutching at his jacket in a desperate effort not to succumb to hysteria. He'd done it. He'd used his quirk in front of a whole crowd of civilians and heroes. There was no hope of avoiding the consequences of that. Kacchan would dispel any doubt the police may have about what had transpired. Even though his childhood friend had kept quiet about it for years, out of... Fear? Respect? Leverage? Izuku honestly had no idea - there was no reason for him to shield him from the official investigations. It was out of Izuku's hands now. But maybe... maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He had saved his friend from a gruesome fate, first of all, which was undoubtedly good. And maybe his father was plainly wrong, maybe their quirk could be tolerated, even accepted by society at large. Maybe even trained for the purpose of- "Midoriya!" Izuku's stomach did another somersault. All Might's skinny silhouette had just emerged from a nearby road and was approaching him quickly, one long arm raised to catch his attention. Oh God, Izuku had hoped he'd be too busy to chase him right off the bat. He'd hoped he could at least make it back home and talk with his father, with his mother before... "There you are! Why did you run off like- Hey, are you hurt?" All Might asked, immediately grabbing his arm to support him when Izuku wobbled dangerously. The man eyed his side worriedly, and Izuku finally remembered to check it himself. His jacket was torn and singed where he had fallen on the burning debris, but the layers of clothing underneath were surprisingly intact, and so was Izuku. "No no, I'm fine, thank you. I just... I guess I was scared of being told off for rushing in." Izuku offered with a poor attempt at a smile. "More afraid of being reproached than of facing a villain head on? You're an odd one, all right." All Might chuckled, visibly amused. "Law enforcers can be sticklers for non-professional quirk usage rules, but I don't think you would have gotten into too much trouble, all things considered." "I-I see... well... I guess I'll have to deal with it anyway, sooner or later..." "Ah... Not necessarily. I don't think anyone other than me realized what you did. In fact..." All Might rubbed the back of his neck with an oddly embarassed grimace. "I think I may have... sort of accidentally taken the merit of what happened back there. People saw me and just assumed I smashed the sludge off the villain faster than the eye can see. Journalists were already showing up and I was running quite low on stamina, so I scampered off before, you know... " He gestured at himself eloquently. "I can release an official statement later to rectify the matter, if you want. I'd hate to steal the spotlight of an aspiring hero." Izuku blinked. No one else knew? Kacchan hadn't talked? Or had All Might fled before he could hear his account? Probably the latter. And... "Aspiring hero?" "Indeed. It seems I have made some wrong assumptions about you." All Might positively beamed, ruffling his own hair and regarding Izuku with a sort of challenging grin that made Izuku squirm on the spot. "You aren't quirkless at all, are you?" "I never said I was..." Izuku tried to deflect lamely, hoping not to sound too cheeky. All Might merely laughed in response. "Very true! A variant of Erasure, isn't it? I've never seen any Erasure quirk work on mutant types, but I guess it is true that the new generations are naturally more endowed." "Uh... Y... Yeah..." Izuku heard himself say. He... He didn't want to lie. There wasn't even any point in lying considering that Kacchan was going to expose the truth anyway. But Izuku's mouth had been basically running on autopilot since his idol had materialized into his life, and his brain seemed to have lost the computational power to rein it in when said hero was in the vicinity. "That's good! Very good! Why would you be concerned about not using your quirk?" All Might scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed strangely unbothered by the fact that Izuku hadn't corrected him earlier, prompting him to waste valuable time of his day to bestow misplaced advice. "I guess Erasers tend to be somewhat at a disadvantage with rescue operations and solo missions... But I can assure you that, when it comes to apprehending villains, any combat specialist would beg to be teamed up with an Eraser. They're the absolute best support in case of quirk misfires and misuse... As you've just proven yourself." All Might seemed hell bent on encouraging Izuku's dream, now that he saw a real chance of success for him. Izuku was... moved, honestly, and sincerely grateful. But the hero was, once again, wasting his words. That wasn't Izuku's quirk, Izuku's quirk was far more sinister in its mechanics, far less likely to be requested or even endorsed by the hero community. Far more powerful, frighteningly so. Would All Might even be standing so close to the boy, within an arm's length, if he knew what would befall him if a hint of greed or envy pushed Izuku to- "Don't look down on yourself, kid." A bony yet amicable hand squeezed Izuku's shoulder, ripping him out of his meandering thoughts. All Might was smiling openly, his voice tinged with a softness that was entirely at odds with his haggard looks. "Your quirk might be less flashy than others, but I've seen enough today to know that you're definitely hero material, both in skills and heart." The really important thing is recognizing your own flesh and blood. Recognizing yourself. Izuku had been thinking a lot about that old interview of All Might's lately. The closer the UA admission test got, the more he found himself doubting his father's pessimistic take on the villainous nature of their quirk, and the more he wondered if he shouldn't trust himself, recognize himself, with enough conviction that everyone else would simply have to trust and recognize him too, eventually. It was easier said than done, of course. Spending the first twelve years of his life as quirkless hadn't exactly geared him towards building oodles of self-confidence. But he had to start somewhere. And if there was anyone in the world who was likely to see and trust and recognize Izuku for who he was, villanous quirk or not... it had to be him. The man who was the living embodiment of hope, reliability, rectitude and positivity. The man who apparently had a quirk with such a detrimental side effect that he ought to avoid resorting to it like the plague, and yet who kept using anyway, for the sake of the people. The man who was standing right in front of Izuku, giving it his all to obliterate his insecurities with sensible and kind words, with something awfully akin to pride for him shining in his clear eyes. If there was anyone that could change Izuku's world, it was All Might. "I, ah... actually, I... that isn't my quirk." "Oh?" All Might would have raised an eyebrow, if he had any. "Then what is it?" "I..." Izuku gulped. "I can take quirks. From other people. Permanently. And use them as my own." Silence. Not a muscle had moved on All Might's face, but suddenly his smile seemed a lot less alive, and a lot more set in stone. Izuku willed himself to keep speaking. "That's what I did to the villain. I stole- I took his quirk. It was the fastest way to stop him. The only way I could think of. It... worked quite well, uh?" Izuku offered a tentative smile, at the same time as All Might's started to fade. That... didn't bode well. But of course not even All Might could react to such a piece of information with immediate enthusiasm, it was a lot to take in, Izuku understood that. No doubt any moment now he'd slip back into his pep talk, reassure him of his chances to become a hero, wipe away his insecurities with a blinding smile and a boisterous laugh- "Do you still have it? The villain's quirk?" All Might asked in a whisper. "I do." Izuku knew, without really needing to try it out. He knew it with the same certainty as he knew that he was thirsty, or that his side did in fact hurt a little bit, or that most of skin was constantly brushing against his clothes. It was an almost visceral sensation, both conscious and subconscious, that he couldn't quite put into words. "I could try to use it too, if I wanted. Although I d-don't, really. I don't think I'll want to see any more slime for the next ten years or so, especially not on myself. Or as myself..." Izuku chuckled nervously, his heart growing heavier as All Might's expression reverted to one of studied, rigid neutrality. For once in his life, words failed him completely. He wrung his hands in discomfort, hoping that All Might would be the one to break that increasingly worrying silence. But his fidgeting caught the hero's attention. Very slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, All Might's hand left Izuku's shoulder and took the boy's hand in his own, turning it over. He straightened the curled fingers with his thumb, fully exposing his palm and the small, circular hole right in the center of it. And then all of Izuku's hopes crumbled to dust. Very scary, very disturbing things had happened to him that day. He had almost died, he had almost accidentally killed a friend, he had inadvertedly learned a potentially peace-endangering secret, he had been forced to reveal a personally-endangering secret. He could have lived with all of that, probably. But nothing could have prepared him for the subtle shaking of All Might's hand as he observed the stigmata of Izuku's quirk. Nothing could have humiliated more than the sharp inhale of his idol, than the way his breath caught in his throat in obvious shock. Nothing could have confirmed his father's warnings more than the one thing he would have never, never, never expected to see - let alone cause - in the eyes of the Symbol of Peace. Fear.

[betweentheracks]

Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

[fics-not-tragedies]

Juicy June: Day 14

This is the ultimate paring when it comes to the prompt & person combo 😏 This prompt was requested by @penwieldingdreamer​.

PROMPT: Primal ft. Captain Syverson; Words: 2465 (yeah, I know 🤡); Warnings: smut, degradation kink (if you squint), also a tiny bit of abuse of power;

Your breath got caught in your throat as he moved towards you slowly and you shuffled backwards until your back meet the door and there he was, his face mere inches from yours, his hands coming down on either side of your body and trapping you, Syverson had you cornered now without even laying his hands on your body.

A loud gasp left your mouth, the way he’d caught you by surprise fueling him and he shoved your pants down effortlessly, your legs spreading apart for him without him having to say, without even realizing the instinctive response your body had to him,, the way he was slowly starting to touch you through the underwear while simultaneously holding your gaze was definitely too much and your lips parted reluctantly, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he finally touched your body.

“Oh, fucking hell” he drawled, chuckling darkly, “You really waited patiently…”

You whimpered when his fingers pushed your panties to the side, wasting no time forcing his thick digits inside you, your dripping heat welcoming them and your hand came down on his shoulder to gather some sort of leverage.

The shift in his behavior was overwhelming, but you welcomed it nonetheless did not know how to come to terms with it, still tense that he would mock you for how wet you were at any moment, draw his fingers out of you and push you down onto your knees. You needed to enjoy this while it lasted, whimpering obscenely when he curled his fingers inside your heat, his rough fingertips brushing right into the spongy spot that made you see stars and your hips automatically bucked up, eyes begging him silently for more.

“You’re fucking drooling, baby girl” he drawled, his hand grabbing your chin to make sure you kept your eyes on him as he lazily started fingering your cunt, watching how your chest rose and fell quickly, “Do you need my cock in your mouth to keep you occupied right now?”

You gasped, licked your lips, but your mouth was far from dry and you just shook your head, “I-I…”

Syverson smirked, “Mmmm, I know, baby, I will fuck you…”

And just like that his fingers were gone, left you empty and leaking on the seat, desperate to be filled and he lost no time undoing his belt buckle, forced your legs apart with his hand sprawled firmly across your inner thigh.

“I know how bad you want it… how bad you need it.”

He was intoxicating, the deep drawl of his voice, the cloud of perfume and liquor, you couldn’t help yourself, “P-Please.”

“Ask me again” he demanded, shifting to position his cock against your entrance, enjoying the way you shuddered immensely as he rubbed his tip against your dripping folds, could practically taste the way you were going to stretch and flutter around him once he forced himself inside you, would make your walls burn with the sudden friction. But he needed to hear you first.

It was too good to be true, he was going to tease you out of your mind and you already knew you weren’t going to be able to take it, but you mumbled anyway, “Sy, please…” you whimpered, desperately trying to buck your hips up but he had your legs locked securely in place, one pressed against the backseat, the other held to the side.

He stretched his jaw, blinked and licked his lips and you were just about to lose hope when his hips slowly pushed forward, agonizingly slow but your grip tightened on his shoulder, eyes falling shut for a mere moment but you forced them open again quickly, knowing it would do you no good if you disobeyed him, even though there were demands from previous times.

His cock was hard, throbbing and filled you so tightly, the friction almost too much to handle and it brought tears to your eyes, the intense feeling of him drawing his hips back only to slam them right back inside you enough to take your breath away, especially with his eyes locked on yours like he hadn’t before, merely in the mirror but this was different, you had his full attention and you knew you’d have to take advantage of it, study his features and your every move, the way he barely blinked to not miss a single thing you did either, the way his jaw stretched and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his nose scrunched up from the effort he was putting in to not be too loud, too obvious.

And then he started moving properly, the slow tease morphing into a fast back and forth of his hips snapping, his cock pushing inside you, then pulling out, denying you then burying himself inside you again with abrupt movements, making you whimper and rock back every time and you couldn’t believe the bliss he allowed you now.

“C-Captain…” you whimpered, your breath hitching in the throat.

He chuckled darkly, biting his lip. The sounds falling from your lips were gorgeous, his rank rolling off your tongue so beautifully, it was as satisfying as ever, but more than he ever could have asked for combined with how wide and desperate your eyes were while he drove himself inside you repeatedly, taking complete ownership of your body.

“Yes, baby?” He asked, the cocky smirk still plastered across his flawless features.

“Thank you” you whimpered and he could see the salty traces pearling down your cheeks,“T-Thank you so much…”

His heart felt heavy as he saw just how much he’d overwhelmed you, “Don’t need to thank me, baby girl” he drawled, “Pleasure’s all fucking mine.”

He punctuated his words with another hard thrust of his hips, his hand closing over your breast and squeezing it roughly. You would be bruised and as sore the next day.

You could barely move with the way he had you pinned into he corner of the backseat, had no other choice than to gratefully take what he was giving and you whimpered for more with each thrust of his hips, each time their bodies collided and he filled your cunt, made you squeeze his cock and sent shivers up your spine with how good he felt, making you feel nothing but the burning pleasure. You couldn’t think straight.

“You’re already shaking” he hummed. There was sweat forming at his collarbones, just above his chain and he was starting to breathe heavily, just indulging in you, getting lost in your moans and soft cries of lust, “Few strokes and you’re already shaking…”

You nodded eagerly, was ready to give him whatever he needed, admitting to just how badly you wanted him, how desperate you were, not even embarrassed anymore, “T-Thank you…” you cried again, noticing only now the lack of control you had over even what rushed out of your mouth.

Syverson smirked, “That’s good, huh?”

“S-So good…” you purred as his cock drove inside you again, hard and merciless, and you still wanted more, wanted it to hurt, your head repeatedly knocking lightly against the dirty window, “Your cock is so big…”

“I know, and you’re takin it so fucking well…” he groaned, reveling in the sounds of your cries, “Tell me you’re mine, baby…”

Without missing a beat you obeyed, hoping he would just fuck you harder, “A-All yours, I’m all yours, captain…” you whined, “Your good little slut…”

His grip loosened and he slowed down, drawing halfway out of you and he dragged his hand up to your throat, fingers closing slowly around it, his eyes growing wide, “No, no, baby, shhh…”

You gasped, tensing and instantly regretting saying anything, worried that you fucked it all up now, “W-What?”

“Don’t want to hear that again…” Syverson said, shaking his head, “My girl isn’t a fucking slut…”

It took your dizzy mind a few seconds to comprehend his words and you breathed out shakily in surprise, “S-Say that again?” You begged, unable to help yourself, the words just rushing out.

He laughed, “My girl?” He drawled, “That’s the bit you wanted to hear again, yes?”

you couldn’t believe it, rendered speechless and whimpered, opening your mouth but closing it again. There was nothing you could possibly say, your eyes wide as he pushed inside your cunt again, hard and deep and you nearly came right there and then.

“I know you’re gagging for my validation, aren’t you, baby gir? Are you coming for me already?”

You moaned desperately, your body tense, “N-Not without your permission…”

He hummed appreciatively, increasing his speed again, “I can tell you’re fucking holding on…” he drawled

Your breath was shallow now,you were trying to keep up with him, with his thrusts and with his words, but he just had complete control of you, made it impossible to think, “I-I’m sorry…”

“No, no… baby girl, don’t apologize…” he chuckled, cocky and irresistible, “Got a big cock inside you, baby, giving your cunt a proper fuck , you’re supposed to cry my name…”

“F-Fuck…” you muttered, unable to come up with anything witty to respond, allowing him to carry out his cockiness like the smug bastard he was.

“Tell me nobody’s fucked you like this before” he grunted, slowly losing control, his mind now clouded with lust and he wasn’t far from letting go either.

“F-Fuck, Sy, no one does it better… not in a back of a humvee” you cried, choking out the words as you struggled to breathe evenly with him driving his cock into you faster and faster, his hand around your throat. You were so close, the burning becoming unbearable, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach threatening to spill and spread all over your body the way you were aching for.

“Do you want to cum for me, baby?”

He buried himself deep inside you and you were unable to respond as he sent you over the edge despite all your efforts, the pleasure ripping through you, your body shaking violently and you cried out pathetically as you came around his cock, your walls squeezing him, nails digging into his shoulder, the tight burn between your legs so satisfying, so delicious, your bliss only tinted by the fear of disappointing him but instead of mocking you or pushing you away he wrapped his arm around you, pulled you backwards to sit on his thighs and reached around, held you down securely with his arms locked around your body to restrict any possible movement, making you shudder when despite your sensitivity, his calloused fingertips came down on your clit, starting to rub it lazily, enjoying the way you were writhing in his lap, gasping for air, your legs pressed to the outsides of his thigh.

His cock felt even bigger that way and you could barely handle the sudden pleasure he was adding to your already spent body, made you whimper and shake under his tight grip, desperate for something to hold onto.

“You want another, baby girl?” He drawled, his voice calm, nonchalant, but you could feel his breath, shallow against the back of your sweaty neck.

You were confused, but most of all desperate, overwhelmed with everything he was suddenly willing to give you.

“Tell me. Tell me, baby and I promise you’re gonna get it.”

You were now worried he was just mocking you, would build you up just to get off on it when he would orgasm himself and his cock felt so big inside you, throbbing and making your walls clench and flutter and making your body shake with pleasure without him even having to move, “I-I want another” you cried, now that he’d given you a taste you were desperate for another release, “Captain, please…”

“Greedy fucking girl…” he drawled, starting to move his fingers faster, merciless with how fast he quickly he flicked your clit, fueled by you begging and you gasped, fingers now gripping his arm as you was desperate for leverage, “If you’re gonna cum again, it’s gonna be on my command…”

He now looked to reinstate his dominance, wanting to demonstrate that despite his favors and little praises, he still owned you, still had the upper hand.

“P-Please…” you whispered, goosebumps lacing your skin with the way his deep voice was so close to your ear and you were getting wetter and wetter with every word he said, with every flick of his rough fingertips and he pressed them down hard, making you shake, your knees weak.

“Didn’t hear you…”

“Please” you cried louder, indifferent to who would hear, “Sy-…”

He couldn’t hold on, your cries and you struggling under his grip too much and he bucked his hips up inside you, buried himself deep and his cock twitched, his release coating your walls, “C-Cum for me…” he grunted, breathing heavily against the back of your neck, his arms tightening around you as he rocked his hips up slowly to ride out his orgasm, reveling in the afterglow and the way you moaned so loudly, would have put any pornstar to shame.

You were panting out your release, shivering from how good his cock felt pulsing inside you, proud that it was all thanks to you even though he’d merely played with you again without even letting you do anything - ironically even with you sitting in his lap - but you told yourself that you’d done something right with how he treated you, completely content and so confident that you dared to turn around and look at him, the way his neck was flushed, his forehead shiny and you challenged yourself to touch his cheek, feel the warmth of it on your palm.

Syverson had to remind himself where he was, who he was and to snap out of that moment of weakness, so starved of something soft that your gentle touch had him needy and instinctively leaning into it but then he forced his eyes open again, locked your eyes with that infamous gaze of authority to reshape the nature of the situation.

You laughed quietly, looking down and turning to face away from him again, pressing your lips together as you tried to save that moment for later, the way he’d just given in and even though it had been for merely a second, you were never going to forget about it.

“Absolutely gorgeous…” he muttered, lifting you from his lap and making you whimper before you could respond to his utterance that was a mere product of how much he adored seeing you laugh again, especially with tear-stained cheeks and your skin flushed with heat and he helped you almost automatically to adjust your sitting position, gave you enough space to fix your pants while closing his own belt after tucking himself back in.

[maximelebled]

How I encode videos for YouTube and archival

Hello everyone! This post is going to describe the way in which I export and encode my video work to send it over the Internet and archive it. I’ll be talking about everything I’ve discovered over the past 10 years of research on the topic, and I’ll be mentioning some of the pitfalls to avoid falling into.

There’s a tremendous amount of misguided information out there, and while I’m not going to claim I know everything there is to know on this subject, I would like to think that I’ve spent long enough researching various issues to speak about my own little setup that I’ve got going on... it’s kind of elaborate and complex, but it works great for me.

(UPDATE 2020/12/09: added, corrected, & elaborated on a few things.)

First rule, the most golden of them all!

There should only ever be one compression step: the one YouTube does. In practice, there will be at least two, because you can’t send a mathematically-lossless file to YouTube... but you can send one that’s extremely close, and perceptually pristine. 

The gist of it: none of your working files should be compressed if you can help it, and if they need to be, they should be as little as possible. (Because let’s face it, it’s pretty tricky to keep hours of game footage around in lossless form, let alone recording them as such in the first place.)

This means that any AVC files should be full (0-255) range, 4:4:4 YUV, if possible. If you use footage that’s recorded with, like, OBS, it’s theoretically possible to punch in a lossless mode for x264, and even a RGB mode, but last I checked, neither were compatible with Vegas Pro. You may have better luck with other video editors.

Make sure that the brightness levels and that the colors match what you should be seeing. This is something you should be doing at every single step of the way throughout your entire process. Always keep this in mind. Lagom.nl’s LCD calibration section has quite a few useful things you can use to make sure.

If you’re able to, set a GOP length / max keyframe range of 1 second in the encoder of your footage. Modern video codecs suck in video editors because they use all sorts of compression tricks which are great for video playback, but not so efficient with the ways video editors access and request video frames. (These formats are meant to be played forwards, and requesting frames in any other order, as NLEs do, has far-reaching implications that hurt performance.) 

Setting the max keyframe range to 1 second will mildly hurt compressability of that working footage but it will greatly limit the performance impact you’ll be putting your video editor’s decoder through.

A working file is a lossless file!

I’ve been using utvideo as my lossless codec of choice. (Remember, codec means encoder/decoder.) It compresses much like FLAC or ZIP files do: losslessly. And not just perceptual losslessness, but a mathematical one: what comes in will be exactly what comes out, bit for bit.

Download it here: https://github.com/umezawatakeshi/utvideo/releases

It’s an AVI VFW codec. In this instance, VFW means Video for Windows, and it’s just the... sort of universal API that any Windows program can call for. And AVI is the container, just like how MP4 and MKV are containers. MP4 as a file is not a video format, it’s a container. MPEG-4 AVC (aka H.264) is the video format specification you’re thinking of when you say “MP4″.

Here’s a typical AVI VFW window, you might have seen one in the wild already.

In apps that expose this setting, you can hit “configure” and set the prediction mode of utvideo to “median” to get some more efficient compression at the cost of slower decoding, but in practice this isn’t a problem.

Things to watch out for:

Any and all apps involved must support OpenDML AVIs. The original AVI spec is 2GB max only. This fixes that limitation. That’s normal, but make sure your apps support that. The OpenDML spec is from the mid-90s, so usually it’s not a problem. But for example, the SFM doesn’t support it.

The files WILL be very large. But they won’t be as large as they’d be if you had a truly uncompressed AVI.

SSDs are recommended within the bounds of reasonability, especially NVMe ones. 1080p30 should be within reach of traditional HDDs though.

utvideo will naturally perform better on CGI content rather than real-life footage and I would not recommend it at all for real-life footage, especially since you’re gonna get that in already-compressed form anyway. Do not convert your camera’s AVC/HEVC files to utvideo, it’s pointless. (Unless you were to do it as a proxy but still, kinda weird)

If you’re feeling adventurous, try out the YUV modes! They work great for matte passes, since those are often just luma-masks, so you don’t care about chroma subsampling.

If you don’t care about utvideo or don’t want to do AVIs for whatever reason, you could go the way of image sequences, but you’ll then be getting the OS-level overhead that comes with having dozens of thousands of files being accessed, etc.

They’re a valid option though. (Just not an efficient one in most cases.)

Some of my working files aren’t lossless...

Unfortunately we don’t all have 10 TB of storage in our computers. If you’re using compressed files as a source, make sure they get decoded properly by your video editing software. Make sure the colors, contrast, etc. match what you see in your “ground truth” player of choice. Make sure your “ground truth” player of choice really does represent the ground truth. Check with other devices if you can. You want to cross-reference to make sure.

One common thing that a lot of software screws up is BT.601 & BT.709 mixups. (It’s reds becoming a bit more orange.)

Ultimately you want your compressed footage to appear cohesive with your RGB footage. It should not have different ranges, different colors, etc. 

For reasons that I don’t fully understand myself, 99% of AVC/H.264 video is “limited range”. That means that internally it’s actually squeezed into 16-235 as opposed to the original starting 0-255 (which is full range). And a limited range video gets decoded back to 0-255 anyway.

Sony/Magix Vegas Pro will decode limited range video properly but it will NOT expand it back to full 0-255 range, so it will appear with grayish blacks and dimmer whites. You can go into the “Levels” Effects tab to apply a preset that fixes this.

Exporting your video.

A lot of video editors out there are going to “render” your video (that is to say, calculate and render what the frames of your video look like) and encode it at the same time with whatever’s bundled in the software.

Do not ever do this with Vegas Pro. Do not ever rely on the integrated AVC encoders of Vegas Pro. They expect full range input, and encode AVC video as if it were full range (yeah), so if you want normal looking video, you have to apply a Levels preset to squeeze it into 16-235 levels, but it’s... god, honestly, just save yourself the headache and don’t use them.

Instead, export a LOSSLESS AVI out of Vegas. (using utvideo!)

But you may be able to skip this step altogether if you use Adobe Media Encoder, or software that can interface directly with it.

Okay, what do I do with this lossless AVI?

Option 1: Adobe Media Encoder.

Premiere and AE integrate directly with Adobe Media Encoder. It’s good; it doesn’t mix up BT.601/709, for example. In this case, you won’t have to export an AVI, you should be able to export “straight from the software”.

However, the integrated AVC/HEVC encoders that Adobe has licensed (from MainConcept, I believe) aren’t at the top of their game. Even cranking up the bitrate super high won’t reach the level of pristine that you’d expect (it keeps on not really allocating bits to flatter parts of the image to make them fully clean), and they don’t expose a CRF mode (more on that later), so, technically, you could still go with something better.

But what I’m getting at is, it’s not wrong to go with AME. Just crank up the bitrate though. (Try to reach 0.3 bits per pixel.) Here’s my quick rough quick guideline of Adobe Media Encoder settings:

H.264/AVC (faster encode but far from the most efficient compression one can have)

Switch from Hardware to Software encoding (unless you’re really in a hurry... but if you’re gonna be using Hardware encoding you might as well switch to H.265/HEVC, see below.)

Set the profile to High (you may not be able to do this without the above)

Bitrate to... VBR 1-pass, 30mbps for 1080p, 90mbps for 4K. Set the maximum to x2. +50% to both target and max if fps = 60.

“Maximum Render Quality” doesn’t need to be ticked, this only affects scaling. Only tick it if you are changing the final resolution of the video during this encoder step (e.g. 1080p source to be encoded as 720p)

If using H.265/HEVC (smaller file size, better for using same file as archive)

Probably stick with hardware encoding due to how slow software encoding is.

Stick to Main profile & Main tier.

If hardware: quality: Highest (slowest)

If software: quality: Higher.

4K: set Level to 5.2, 60mbps

1440p: set Level to 5.1, 40mbps

1080p: keep Level to 5.0, 25mbps

If 60fps instead of 24/30: +50% to bitrate. In which case you might have to go up to Level 6.2, but this might cause local playback issues; more on "Levels” way further down the post.

Keep in mind however that hardware encoders are far less efficient in terms of compression, but boy howdy are they super fast. This is why they become kind of worth it when it comes to H.265/HEVC. Still won’t produce the kind of super pristine result I’d want, but acceptable for the vast majority of YouTube cases.

Option 2: other encoding GUIs...

Find software of your choice that integrates the x264 encoder, which is state-of-the-art. (Again, x264 is one encoder for the H.264/AVC codec specification. Just making sure there’s no confusion here.)

Handbrake is one common choice, but honestly, I haven’t used it enough to vouch for it. I don’t know if the settings it exposes are giving you proper control over the whole BT601/709 mess. It has some UI/UX choices which I find really questionable too.

If you’re feeling like a command-line masochist, you could try using ffmpeg, but be ready to pour over the documentation. (I haven’t managed to find out how to do the BT.709 conversion well in there yet.)

Personally, I use MeGUI, because it runs through Avisynth (a frameserver), which allows me to do some cool preprocessing and override some of the default behaviour that other encoder interfaces would do. It empowers you to get into the nitty gritty of things, with lots of plugins and scripts you can install, like this one:

http://avisynth.nl/index.php/Dither_tools (grab it)

Once you’re in MeGUI, and it has finished updating its modules, you gotta hit CTRL+R to open the automated script creator. Select your input, hit “File Indexer” (not “One Click Encoder”), then just hit “Queue” so that Avisynth’s internal thingamajigs start indexing your AVI file. Once that’s done, you’ll be greeted with a video player and a template script.

In the script, all you need to add is this at the bottom:

dither_convert_rgb_to_yuv(matrix="709",output="YV12",mode=7)

This will perform the proper colorspace conversion, AND it does so with dithering! It’s the only software I know of which can do it with dithering!! I kid you not! Mode 7 means it’s doing it using a noise distribution that scales better and doesn’t create weird patterns when resizing the video (I would know, I’ve tried them all).

Your script should look like this, just 3 lines

LoadPlugin("D:\(path to megui, etc)\LSMASHSource.dll")

LWLibavVideoSource("F:\yourvideo.avi")

dither_convert_rgb_to_yuv(matrix="709",output="YV12",mode=7)

The colors WILL look messed up in the preview window but that’s normal. It’s one more example of how you should always be wary when you see an issue. Sometimes you don’t know what is misbehaving, and at which stage. Always try to troubleshoot at every step along the way, otherwise you will be chasing red herrings. Anyway...

Now, back in the main MeGUI window, we’ve got our first line complete (AviSynth script), the “Video Output” path should be autofilled, now we’re gonna touch the third line: “Encoder settings”. Make sure x264 is selected and hit “config” on the right.

Tick “show advanced settings.”

Set the encoding mode to “Const. Quality” (that’s CRF, constant rate factor). Instead of being encoded with a fixed bitrate, and then achieving variable quality with that amount of bits available, CRF instead encodes for a fixed quality, with a variable bitrate (whatever needs to be done to achieve that quality).

CRF 20 is the default, and it’s alright, but you probably want to go up to 15 if you really want to be pristine. I’m going up to 10 because I am unreasonable. (Lower is better, higher numbers means quality is worse.)

Because we’re operating under a Constant Quality metric, CRF 15 at encoder presets “fast” vs. “slow” will produce the same perceptual quality, but at different file sizes. Slow being smaller, of course. 

You probably want to be at “slow” at least, there isn’t that much point in going to “slower” or “veryslow”, but you can always do it if you have the CPU horsepower to spare.

Make sure AVC Profile is set to High. The default would be Main, but High unlocks a few more features of the spec that increase compressability, especially at higher resolutions. (8x8 transforms & intra prediction, quantization scaling matrices, cb/cr controls, etc.)

Make sure to also select a Level. This doesn’t mean ANYTHING by itself, but thankfully the x264 config window here is smart enough to actually apply settings which are meaningful with regards to the level.

A short explanation is that different devices have different decoding capabilities. A decade ago, a mobile phone might have only supported level 3 in hardware, meaning that it could only do main profile at 30mbps max, and if you went over that, it would either not decode the video or do it using the CPU instead of its hardware acceleration, resulting in massive battery usage. The GPU in your computer also supports a maximum level. 5.0 is a safe bet though.

If you don’t restrict the level accordingly to what your video card supports, you might see funny things happen during playback:

It’s nothing that would actually affect YouTube (AFAIK), but still, it’s best to constrain.

Finally, head over to the “misc” tab of the x264 config panel and tick these.

If the command line preview looks like mine does (see the screenshot from a few paragraphs ago) then everything should be fine.

x264 is configured, now let’s take care of the audio.

Likewise, “Audio Input” and “Audio Output” should be prefilled if MeGUI detected an audio track in your AVI file. Just switch the audio encoder over to FLAC, hit config, crank the slider to “smallest file, slow encode” and you’re good to go. FLAC = mathematically lossless audio. Again, we want to not compress anything, or as little as possible until YouTube does its own compression job, so you might as well go with FLAC, which will equal roughly 700 to 1000kbps of audio, instead of going with 320kbps of MP3/AAC, which might be perceptually lossless, but is still compressed (bad). The added size is nothing next to the high-quality video track you’re about to pump out. 

FLAC is not an audio format supported by the MP4 container, so MeGUI should have automagically changed the output to be using the MKV (Matroska) container. If it hasn’t, do it yourself.

Now, hit the “Autoencode” button in the lower right of the main window. And STOP, do not be hasty: in the new window, make sure “no target size” is selected before you do anything else. If you were to keep “file size” selected, then you would be effectively switched over to 2-pass encoding, which is another form of (bit)rate control. We don’t want that. We want CRF. 

Hit queue and once it’s done processing, you should have a brand new pristine MKV file that constains lossless audio and extra clean video! Make sure to double-check that everything matches—take screenshots of the same frames in the AVI and MKV files and compare them.

Now all you’ve got to do is send it to YouTube!

For archival... well, you could just go and crank up the preset to Placebo and reduce CRF a little bit—OR you could use the 2-pass “File Size” mode which will ensure that your video stream will be the exact size (give or take a couple %) you want it to be. You could also use x265 for your archival file buuuut I haven’t used it enough (on account of how slow it is) to make sure that it has no problems anywhere with the whole BT.601/708 thing. It doesn’t expose those metadata settings so who knows how other software’s going to treat those files in the future... (god forbid they get read as BT.2020)

You can use Mediainfo (or any player that integrates it, like my favorite, MPC-HC) to check the metadata of the file.

Good luck out there!

And remember to always double-check the behaviour of decoders at every step of the way with your setup. 99% of the time I see people talk about YouTube messing with the contrast of their video, it’s because they weren’t aware of how quirky Vegas can be with H.264/AVC input & its integrated encoder.

Hope this helps!

[gumnut-logic]

The Jock

I found fic! Literally. I watched Runaway for TAGRewatch last week and thought to myself, ‘Didn’t I write a follow up to this at some point?’ It wasn’t until today that I got around to fossicking through the fics on my iPad and found it. I don’t think I’ve published it before. I certainly haven’t archived it. So, theoretically here is new fic.

My memory isn’t the greatest, so who knows. Anyway...

Episode tag to Runaway, language, 1002 words and one pissed off Tracy.

-o-o-o-

“Scott, I need to talk to you.”

The commander looked up from his father’s desk. He was still in his uniform, the mud dry and cracking. Grandma was going to kill him for the mess all over floor, but he was too tired to do anything about it.

The expression on Virgil’s face as he stalked across the room towards him didn’t bode well at all either.

“What is it? Can it wait?”

“No, I think it has waited long enough.” Virgil stopped not far from him, his feet set firm on the hardwood, his shoulders squared and his arms crossed in front of him.

Great, Virgil was pissed at something.

Scott tried not to slump, but his shoulders shifted just slightly.

Virgil’s eyes flickered, not missing anything, but then determination flared and his stance stiffened even more.

“What?” It came out harsher than intended.

Too damned tired.

“Why do you have to be a jock?”

Huh? “What?”

“Brains is a brilliant engineer, but his physical skills aren’t his strength. His confidence in rescue situations is poor and needs encouragement, yet you are rough, inconsiderate and dismissive of his concerns. You’re a jock, Scott and acting like a dick.”

He stared at Virgil. “You’re kidding me, right?” Honestly? Really?

His brother’s eyes widened, only to narrow, his brows almost meeting in the middle. “How would you like it if Brains belittled your lack of engineering knowledge?”

“Virgil, I’m tired and I have no idea what you are referring to.”

“First there was that train in Japan.”

“That was yesterday-“

“You threw Brains off One, despite his protests, into a dangerous situation that was enough to cause a panic attack....and you thought it was funny!”

Okay, Virgil was yelling now. This was serious.

“Hey, hey, Virg, calm down. Brains was okay.”

“Was he?! Did you follow up on that? Do you know if he has any repercussions from your bullying?”

“Bullying?!”

“Yes, bullying! Little more than school yard bullying, Scott! You were a jerk and a jock! Not everyone has your physical confidence and you should respect that. Brains is good at what he does. Very good. And should not be ridiculed for when he isn’t!”

Scott was still staring as Virgil suddenly spouted off something in a foreign language that made absolutely no sense to him.

“What?”

“Exactly! You have no idea what I just said, do you? It was basic stuff, Scott. Stuff that Brains considers simple to the point of assuming everyone knows it. So now we have today. Did you hear him belittling you when you didn’t understand it? Did he scoff or laugh at your lack of knowledge? No. Yet when you felt he needed to be dangled over a ravine to reach that automated armoured car, I heard you belittling him over comms.”

Scott pushed himself slowly to his feet. “Belittling? It was a joke!”

“It wasn’t a joke! The man was terrified! It may have been nothing to you, but to Brains...I found him puking in his lab. He is a shivering wreck.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “What? Is he okay?” Genuine concern flared and he took a step around the desk towards his fuming brother.

Virgil’s glare softened just a little. “Yes. I spoke with him. He is resting.” Virgil looked away a moment, his expression uninterpretable. A sigh and his stance shifted. “Scott, I know it was unintentional.” Brown eyes turned back to him and pinned him where he stood. “But you have to understand that you cannot expect physical prowess equal to your own in everyone and you most certainly cannot ridicule another person’s fears.”

He was rendered speechless as his brain sorted through the day’s events and those from the week previous. He turned the events around and around in his head. That looming mountain as Brains was hanging off One over the railway track. Okay, to be honest, that would have disturbed him too. But humour helped, didn’t it?

“I thought he trusted me enough to know I would never let anything happen to him.”

Another sigh from his younger brother as Virgil slouched where he stood. “It is not about trust.” A pause. “Well, it is to a certain extent. I’m sure Brains trusts you. But it is more about self confidence in himself and the vagaries of fate. You need to be patient and considerate and respect his boundaries. You can’t force him into situations he is uncomfortable in.”

Scott let himself slump against the desk, one hand reaching out to catch his weight against it. “He’s alright?”

Virgil closed the distance between them. “He will be.” A hand landed on his shoulder, strength in its grip. “But please, don’t do that again.”

Something sick curdled in his stomach. Perhaps he had been impatient, but it had always worked for...his brothers. “What about you?”

Virgil blinked. “What about me?”

“I did the same to all of you. It seemed to work. You all survived.”

Brown narrowed at him. “Different skill set. Different temperament.” A swallow. “Though you might want to have a conversation with John about the snow sled in seventh grade.”

Scott stared again. “What? Why didn’t he say something?”

“He did. You ignored him.”

An open mouth, but nothing came out.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed again. “We know you mean well. We grew up with you. There isn’t a nasty bone in your body, Scott. Brains is different. You’re going to have to go slower and be more patient.” A small smile. “And maybe learn a few engineering terms yourself, or I’ll have to start laughing at you.” Another squeeze. “Talk to him?”

A sigh. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” The arm wrapped around his shoulder. “But Brains is asleep right now and you need some yourself considering the energy you are going to need in the morning to defend yourself against Grandma regarding this mess.”

Scott shrugged. “It will sweep up.” But his thoughts had drifted to instances across the past that fit Virgil’s accusations.

Was he really that bad?

-o-o-o-

[gargaj]

A breakdown of the Revision 2020 Threeway Battle shader

Those of you who have been following this year's edition of Revision probably remember the unexpected twist in Sunday's timeline, where I was pitted in a coding "battle" against two of the best shader-coders in the world to fend for myself. Admittedly the buzz it caused caught me by surprise, but not as much as the feedback on the final shader I produced, so I hope to shed some light on how the shader works, in a way that's hopefully understandable to beginners and at least entertaining to experts, as well as providing some glimpses into my thought process along the way.

Recorded video of the event

But before we dive into the math and code, however, I think it's important to get some context by recounting the story of how we got here.

A brief history of demoscene live-coding

Visual coding has been massively opened up when graphics APIs began to introduce programmable fragment rendering, perhaps best known to most people as "pixel shaders"; this allowed programmers to run entire programmable functions on each pixel of a triangle, and none was more adamant to do that than a fellow named Iñigo Quilez (IQ), an understated genius who early on recognized the opportunity in covering the entire screen with a single polygon, and just doing the heavy lifting of creating geometry in the shader itself. His vision eventually spiraled into not only the modern 4k scene, but also the website ShaderToy, which almost every graphics programmer uses to test prototypes or just play around with algorithms. IQ, an old friend of mine since the mid-00s, eventually moved to the US, worked at Pixar and Oculus, and became something of a world-revered guru of computer graphics, but that (and life) has unfortunately caused him to shift away from the scene.

His vision of single-shader-single-quad-single-pass shader coding, in the meantime, created a very spectacular kind of live coding competition in the scene where two coders get only 25 minutes and the attention of an entire party hall, and they have to improvise their way out of the duel - this has been wildly successful at parties for the sheer showmanship and spectacle akin to rap battles, and none emerged from this little sport more remarkably than Flopine, a bubbly French girl who routinely shuffled up on stage wearing round spectacles and cat ears (actually they might be pony ears on second thought), and mopped the floor up with the competition. Her and a handful of other live-coders regularly stream on Twitch as practice, and have honed their live-coding craft for a few years at this point, garnering a considerable following.

Just a sample of insanity these people can do.

My contribution to this little sub-scene was coming up with a fancy name for it ("Shader Showdown"), as well as providing a little tool I called Bonzomatic (named after Bonzaj / Plastic, a mutual friend of IQ and myself, and the first person to create a live coding environment for demoparties) that I still maintain, but even though I feel a degree of involvement through the architectural side, I myself haven't been interested in participating: I know I can do okay under time pressure, but I don't really enjoy it, and while there's a certain overlap in what they do and what I do, I was always more interested in things like visual detail and representative geometry aided by editing and direction rather than looping abstract, fractal-like things. It just wasn't my thing.

Mistakes were made

But if I'm not attracted to this type of competition, how did I end up in the crossfire anyway? What I can't say is that it wasn't, to a considerable degree, my fault: as Revision 2020 was entirely online, most of the scene took it to themselves to sit in the demoscene Discord to get an experience closest to on-site socializing, given the somber circumstances of physical distancing. This also allowed a number of people who hasn't been around for a while to pop in to chat - like IQ, who, given his past, was mostly interested in the showdowns (during which Flopine crushed the competition) and the 4k compo.

As I haven't seen him around for a while, and as my mind is always looking for an angle, I somehow put two and two together, and asked him if he would consider taking part in a showdown at some point; he replied that he was up for it - this was around Saturday 10PM. I quickly pinged the rest of the showdown participants and organizers, as I spotted that Bullet was doing a DJ set the next day (which would've been in a relatively convenient timezone for IQ in California as well), and assumed that he didn't really have visuals for it - as there was already a "coding jam" over Ronny's set the day before, I figured there's a chance for squeezing an "extra round" of coding. Flopine was, of course, beyond excited by just the prospect of going against IQ, and by midnight we essentially got everything planned out (Bullet's consent notwithstanding, as he was completely out of the loop on this), and I was excited to watch...

...that is, until Havoc, the head honcho for the showdowns, off-handedly asked me about an at that point entirely hypothetical scenario: what would happen if IQ would, for some reason, challenge me instead of Flopine? Now, as said, I wasn't really into this, but being one to not let a good plan go to waste (especially if it was mine), I told Havoc I'd take one for the team and do it, although it probably wouldn't be very fun to watch. I then proceeded to quickly brief IQ in private and run him through the technicalities of the setup, the tool, the traditions and so on, and all is swell...

...that is, until IQ (this is at around 2AM) offhandedly mentions that "Havoc suggested we do a three-way with me, Flopine... and you." I quickly try to backpedal, but IQ seems to be into the idea, and worst of all, I've already essentially agreed to it, and to me, the only thing worse than being whipped in front of a few thousand people would be going back on your word. The only way out was through.

Weeks of coding can spare you hours of thinking

So now that I've got myself into this jar of pickles, I needed some ideas, and quick. (I didn't sleep much that night.) First off, I didn't want to do anything obviously 3D - both IQ and Flopine are masters of this, and I find it exhausting and frustrating, and it would've failed on every level possible. Fractals I'm awful at and while they do provide a decent amount of visual detail, they need a lot of practice and routine to get right. I also didn't want something very basic 2D, like a byte-beat, because those have a very limited degree of variation available, and the end result always looks a bit crude.

Luckily a few months ago an article I saw do rounds was a write-up by Sasha Martinsen on how to do "FUI"-s, or Fictional User Interfaces; overly complicated and abstract user interfaces that are prominent in sci-fi, with Gmunk being the Michael Jordan of the genre.

Image courtesy of Sasha Martinsen.

Sasha's idea is simple: make a few basic decent looking elements, and then just pile them on top of each other until it looks nice, maybe choose some careful colors, move them around a bit, place them around tastefully in 3D, et voilà, you're hacking the Gibson. It's something I attempted before, if somewhat unsuccessfully, in "Reboot", but I came back to it a few more times in my little private motion graphics experiments with much better results, and my prediction was that it would be doable in the given timeframe - or at least I hoped that my hazy 3AM brain was on the right track.

A bit of math

How to make this whole thing work? First, let's think about our rendering: We have a single rectangle and a single-pass shader that runs on it: this means no meshes, no geometry, no custom textures, no postprocessing, no particle systems and no fonts, which isn't a good place to start from. However, looking at some of Sasha's 3D GIFs, some of them look like they're variations of the same render put on planes one after the other - and as long as we can do one, we can do multiple of that.

Rough sketch of what we want to do; the planes would obviously be infinite in size but this representation is good enough for now.

Can we render multiple planes via a single shader? Sure, but we want them to look nice, and that requires a bit of thinking: The most common technique to render a "2D" shader and get a "3D" look is raymarching, specifically with signed distance fields - starting on a ray, and continually testing distances until a hit is found. This is a good method for "solid-ish" looking objects and scenes, but the idea for us is to have many infinite planes that also have some sort of alpha channel, so we'd have a big problem with 1) inaccuracy, as we'd never find a hit, just something "reasonably close", and even that would take us a few dozen steps, which is costly even for a single plane and 2) the handling of an alpha map can be really annoying, since we'd only find out our alpha value after our initial march, after which if our alpha is transparent we'd need to march again.

But wait - it's just infinite planes and a ray, right? So why don't we just assume that our ray is always hitting the plane (which it is, since we're looking at it), and just calculate an intersection the analytical way?

Note: I would normally refer to this method as "raytracing", but after some consultation with people smarter than I am, we concluded that the terms are used somewhat ambiguously, so let's just stick to "analytical ray solving" or something equally pedantic.

We know the mathematical equation for a ray is position = origin + direction * t (where t is a scalar that represents the distance/progress from the ray origin), and we know that the formula for a plane is A * x + B * y + C * z + D = 0, where (A, B, C) is the normal vector of the plane, and D is the distance from the origin. First, since the intersection will be the point in space that satisfies both equations, we substitute the ray (the above o + d * t for each axis) into the plane:

A * (ox + dx * t) + B * (oy + dy * t) + C * (oz + dz * t) + D = 0

To find out where this point is in space, we need to solve this for t, but it's currently mighty complicated. Luckily, since we assume that our planes are parallel to the X-Y plane, we know our (A, B, C) normal is (0, 0, 1), so we can simplify it down to:

oz + dz * t + D = 0

Which we can easily solve to t:

t = (D - oz) / dz

That's right: analytically finding a ray hit of a plane is literally a single subtraction and a division! Our frame rate (on this part) should be safe, and we're always guaranteed a hit as long as we're not looking completely perpendicular to the planes; we should have everything to start setting up our code.

Full disclosure: Given my (and in a way IQ's) lack of "live coding" experience, we agreed that there would be no voting for the round, and it'd be for glory only, but also that I'd be allowed to use a small cheat sheet of math like the equations for 2D rotation or e.g. the above final equation since I don't do this often enough to remember these things by heart, and I only had a few hours notice before the whole thing.

Setting up the rendering

Time to start coding then. First, let's calculate our texture coordinates in the 0..1 domain using the screen coordinates and the known backbuffer resolution (which is provided to us in Bonzomatic):

vec2 uv = vec2(gl_FragCoord.x / v2Resolution.x, gl_FragCoord.y / v2Resolution.y);

Then, let's create a ray from that:

vec3 rayDir = vec3( uv * 2 - 1, -1.0 ); rayDir.x *= v2Resolution.x / v2Resolution.y; // adjust for aspect ratio vec3 rayOrigin = vec3( 0, 0, 0 );

This creates a 3D vector for our direction that is -1,-1,-1 in the top left corner and 1,1,-1 in the bottom right (i.e. we're looking so that Z is decreasing into the screen), then we adjust the X coordinate since our screen isn't square, but our coordinates currently are - no need to even bother with normalizing, it'll be fine. Our origin is currently just sitting in the center.

Then, let's define (loosely) our plane, which is parallel to the XY plane:

float planeDist = 1.0f; // distance between each plane float planeZ = -5.0f; // Z position of the first plane

And solve our equation to t, as math'd out above:

float t = (planeZ - rayOrigin.z) / rayDir.z;

Then, calculate WHERE the hit is by taking that t by inserting it back to the original ray equation using our current direction and origin:

vec3 hitPos = rayOrigin + t * rayDir;

And now we have our intersection; since we already know the Z value, we can texture our plane by using the X and Y components to get a color value:

vec4 color = fui( hitPos.xy ); // XY plane our_color = color;

Of course we're gonna need the actual FUI function, which will be our procedural animated FUI texture, but let's just put something dummy there now, like a simple circle:

vec4 fui ( vec2 uv ) { return length(uv - 0.5) < 0.5 ? vec4(1) : vec(0); }

And here we go:

Very good, we have a single circle and if we animate the camera we can indeed tell that it is on a plane.

So first, let's tile it by using a modulo function; the modulo (or modulus) function simply wraps a number around another number (kinda like the remainder after a division, but for floating point numbers) and thus becomes extremely useful for tiling or repeating things:

We'll be using the modulo function rather extensively in this little exercise, so strap in. (Illustration via the Desmos calculator.)

vec4 layer = fui( mod( hitPos.xy, 1.0 ) );

This will wrap the texture coordinates of -inf..inf between 0..1:

We also need multiple planes, but how do we combine them? We could just blend them additively, but with the amount of content we have, we'd just burn them in to white and it'd look like a mess (and not the good kind of mess). We could instead just use normal "crossfade" / "lerp" blending based on the alpha value; the only trick here is to make sure we're rendering them from back to front since the front renders will blend over the back renders:

int steps = 10; float planeDist = 1.0f; for (int i=steps; i>=0; i--) { float planeZ = -1.0f * i * planeDist; float t = (planeZ - rayOrigin.z) / rayDir.z; if (t > 0.0f) // check if "t" is in front of us { vec3 hitPos = rayOrigin + t * rayDir; vec4 layer = fui( hitPos.xy, 2.0 ); // blend layers based on alpha output colour = mix( colour, layer, layer.a ); } }

And here we go:

We decreased the circles a bit in size to see the effect more.

Not bad! First thing we can do is just fade off the back layers, as if they were in a fog:

layer *= (steps - i) / float(steps);

We have a problem though: we should probably increase the sci-fi effect by moving the camera continually forward, but if we do, we're gonna run into a problem: Currently, since our planeZ is fixed to the 0.0 origin, they won't move with the camera. We could just add our camera Z to them, but then they would be fixed with the camera and wouldn't appear moving. What we instead want is to just render them AS IF they would be the closest 10 planes in front of the camera; the way we could do that is that if e.g. our planes' distance from each other is 5, then round the camera Z down to the nearest multiple of 5 (e.g. if the Z is at 13, we round down to 10), and start drawing from there; rounding up would be more accurate, but rounding down is easier, since we can just subtract the division remainder from Z like so:

float planeZ = (rayOrigin.z - mod(rayOrigin.z, planeDist)) - i * planeDist;

And now we have movement! Our basic rendering path is done.

Our little fictional UI

So now that we have the basic pipeline in place, let's see which elements can we adapt from Sasha's design pieces.

The first one I decided to go with wasn't strictly speaking in the set, but it was something that I saw used as design elements over the last two decades, and that's a thick hatch pattern element; I think it's often used because it has a nice industrial feel with it. Doing it in 2D is easy: We just add X and Y together, which will result in a diagonal gradient, and then we just turn that into an alternating pattern using, again, the modulo. All we need to do is limit it between two strips, and we have a perfectly functional "Police Line Do Not Cross" simulation.

return mod( uv.x + uv.y, 1 ) < 0.5 ? vec4(1) : vec4(0);

So let's stop here for a few moments; this isn't bad, but we're gonna need a few things. First, the repetition doesn't give us the nice symmetric look that Sasha recommends us to do, and secondly, we want them to look alive, to animate a bit.

Solving symmetry can be done just by modifying our repetition code a bit: instead of a straight up modulo with 1.0 that gives us a 0..1 range, let's use 2.0 to get a 0..2 range, then subtract 1.0 to get a -1..1 range, and then take the absolute value.

vec4 layer = fui( abs( mod( hitPos.xy, 2.0 ) - 1 ) );

This will give us a triangle-wave-like function, that goes from 0 to 1, then back to 0, then back to 1; in terms of texture coordinates, it will go back and forth between mirroring the texture in both directions, which, let's face it, looks Totally Sweet.

For animation, first I needed some sort of random value, but one that stayed deterministic based on a seed - in other words, I needed a function that took in a value, and returned a mangled version of it, but in a way that if I sent that value in twice, it would return the same mangled value twice. The most common way of doing it is taking the incoming "seed" value, and then driving it into some sort of function with a very large value that causes the function to alias, and then just returning the fraction portion of the number:

float rand(float x) { return fract(sin(x) * 430147.8193); }

Does it make any sense? No. Is it secure? No. Will it serve our purpose perfectly? Oh yes.

So how do we animate our layers? The obvious choice is animating both the hatch "gradient" value to make it crawl, and the start and end of our hatch pattern which causes the hatched strip to move up and down: simply take a random - seeded by our time value - of somewhere sensible (like between 0.2 and 0.8 so that it doesn't touch the edges) and add another random to it, seasoned to taste - we can even take a binary random to pick between horizontal and vertical strips:

The problems here are, of course, that currently they're moving 1) way too fast and 2) in unison. The fast motion obviously happens because the time value changes every frame, so it seeds our random differently every frame - this is easy to solve by just rounding our time value down to the nearest integer: this will result in some lovely jittery "digital" motion. The unison is also easy to solve: simply take the number of the layer, and add it to our time, thus shifting the time value for each layer; I also chose to multiply the layer ID with a random-ish number so that the layers actually animate independently, and the stutter doesn't happen in unison either:

vec4 fui( vec2 uv, float t ) { t = int(t); float start = rand(t) * 0.8 + 0.1; float end = start + 0.1; [...] } vec4 layer = fui( abs(mod(hitPos.xy, 2.0)-1), fGlobalTime + i * 4.7 );

Lovely!

Note: In hindsight using the Z coordinate of the plane would've given a more consistent result, but the way it animates, it doesn't really matter.

So let's think of more elements: the best looking one that seems to get the best mileage out in Sasha's blog is what I can best describe as the "slant" or "hockey stick" - a simple line, with a 45-degree turn in it. What I love about it is that the symmetry allows it to create little tunnels, gates, corridors, which will work great for our motion.

Creating it is easy: We just take a thin horizontal rectangle, and attach another rectangle to the end, but shift the coordinate of the second rectangle vertically, so that it gives us the 45-degree angle:

float p1 = 0.2; float p2 = 0.5; float p3 = 0.7; float y = 0.5; float thicc = 0.0025; if (p1 < uv.x && uv.x < p2 && y - thicc < uv.y && uv.y < y + thicc ) { return vec4(1); } if (p2 < uv.x && uv.x < p3 && y - thicc < uv.y - (uv.x - p2) && uv.y - (uv.x - p2) < y + thicc ) { return vec4(1); }

Note: In the final code, I had a rect() call which I originally intended to use as baking glow around my rectangle using a little routine I prototyped out earlier that morning, but I was ultimately too stressed to properly pull that off. Also, it's amazing how juvenile your variable names turn when people are watching.

Looks nice, but since this is such a thin sparse element, let's just... add more of it!

So what more can we add? Well, no sci-fi FUI is complete without random text and numbers, but we don't really have a font at hand. Or do we? For years, Bonzomatic has been "shipping" with this really gross checkerboard texture ostensibly for UV map testing:

What if we just desaturate and invert it?

We can then "slice" it up and render little sprites all over our texture: we already know how to draw a rectangle, so all we need is just 1) calculate which sprite we want to show 2) calculate the texture coordinate WITHIN that sprite and 3) sample the texture:

float sx = 0.3; float sy = 0.3; float size = 0.1; if (sx < uv.x && uv.x < sx + size && sy < uv.y &&uv.y < sy + size) { float spx = 2.0 / 8.0; // we have 8 tiles in the texture float spy = 3.0 / 8.0; vec2 spriteUV = (uv - vec2(sx,sy)) / size; vec4 sam = texture( texChecker, vec2(spx,spy) + spriteUV / 8.0 ); return dot( sam.rgb, vec3(0.33) ); }

Note: In the final code, I was only using the red component instead of desaturation because I forgot the texture doesn't always have red content - I stared at it for waaaay too long during the round trying to figure out why some sprites weren't working.

And again, let's just have more of it:

Getting there!

At this point the last thing I added was just circles and dots, because I was running out of ideas; but I also felt my visual content amount was getting to where I wanted them to be; it was also time to make it look a bit prettier.

Post-production / compositing

So we have our layers, they move, they might even have colors, but I'm still not happy with the visual result, since they are too single-colored, there's not enough tone in the picture.

The first thing I try nowadays when I'm on a black background is to just add either a single color, or a gradient:

vec4 colour = renderPlanes(uv); vec4 gradient = mix( vec4(0,0,0.2,1), vec4(0,0,0,1), uv.y); vec4 finalRender = mix( gradient, vec4(colour.xyz,1), colour.a);

This added a good chunk of depth considerably to the image, but I was still not happy with the too much separation between colors.

A very common method used in compositing in digital graphics is to just add bloom / glow; when used right, this helps us add us more luminance content to areas that would otherwise be solid color, and it helps the colors to blend a bit by providing some middle ground; unfortunately if we only have a single pass, the only way to get blur (and by extension, bloom) is repeatedly rendering the picture, and that'd tank our frame rate quickly.

Instead, I went back to one of the classics: the Variform "pixelize" overlay:

This is almost the same as a bloom effect, except instead of blurring the image, all you do is turn it into a lower resolution nearest point sampled version of itself, and blend that over the original image - since this doesn't need more than one sample per pixel (as we can reproduce pixelation by just messing with the texture coordinates), we can get away by rendering the scene only twice:

vec4 colour = renderPlanes(uv); colour += renderPlanes(uv - mod( uv, 0.1 ) ) * 0.4;

Much better tonal content!

So what else can we do? Well, most of the colors I chose are in the blue/orange/red range, and we don't get a lot of the green content; one of the things that I learned that it can look quite pretty if one takes a two-tone picture, and uses color-grading to push the midrange of a third tone - that way, the dominant colors will stay in the highlights, and the third tone will cover the mid-tones. (Naturally you have to be careful with this.)

"Boosting" a color in the mids is easy: lucky for us, if we consider the 0..1 range, exponential functions suit our purpose perfectly, because they start at 0, end at 1, but we can change how they get here:

So let's just push the green channel a tiny bit:

finalRender.g = pow(finalRender.g, 0.7);

Now all we need is to roll our camera for maximum cyberspace effect and we're done!

Best laid plans of OBS

As you can see from the code I posted the above, I wrote the final shader in GLSL; those who know me know that I'm a lot more comfortable with DirectX / HLSL, and may wonder why I switched, but of course there's another story here:

Given the remote nature of the event, all of the shader coding competition was performed online as well: since transmitting video from the coder's computer to a mixer, and then to another mixer, and then to a streaming provider, and then to the end user would've probably turned the image to mush, Alkama and Nusan came up with the idea of skipping a step and rigging up a version of Bonzo that ran on the coder's computer, but instead of streaming video, it sent the shader down to another instance of Bonzo, running on Diffty's computer, who then captured that instance and streamed it to the main Revision streaming hub. This, of course, meant that in a three-way, Diffty had to run three separate instances of Bonzo - but it worked fine with GLSL earlier, so why worry?

What we didn't necessarily realize at the time, is that the DirectX 11 shader compiler takes no hostages, and as soon as the shader reached un-unrollable level of complexity, it thoroughly locked down Diffty's machine, to the point that even the video of the DJ set he was playing started to drop out. I, on the other hand, didn't notice any of this, since my single local instance was doing fine, so I spent the first 15 minutes casually nuking Diffty's PC to shreds remotely, until I noticed Diffty and Havoc pleading on Discord to switch to GLSL because I'm setting things on fire unknowingly.

This is fine.

I was reluctant to do so, simply because of the muscle memory, but I was also aware that I should keep the show going if I can because if I bow out without a result, that would be a colossal embarrassment to everyone involved, and I only can take one of those once every week, and I was already above my quota - so, I quickly closed the DX11 version of Bonzo, loaded the shader up in a text editor, replaced "floatX" with "vecX" (fun drinking game: take a shot every time I messed it up during the live event), commented the whole thing out, loaded it into a GLSL bonzo, and quickly fixed all the other syntax differences (of which there were luckily not many, stuff like "mix" instead of "lerp", constructors, etc.), and within a few minutes I was back up and running.

This, weirdly, helped my morale a bit, because it was the kind of clutch move that for some reason appealed to me, and made me quite happy - although at that point I locked in so bad that not only did I pay absolutely not attention to the stream to see what the other two are doing, but that the drinks and snacks I prepared for the hour of battling went completely untouched.

In the end, when the hour clocked off, the shader itself turned out more or less how I wanted it, it worked really well with Bullet's techno-/psy-/hardtrance mix (not necessarily my jam, as everyone knows I'm more a broken beat guy, but pounding monotony can go well with coding focus), and I came away satisfied, although the perhaps saddest point of the adventure was yet to come: the lack of cathartic real-life ending that was taken from us due to the physical distance, when after all the excitement, all the cheers and hugs were merely lines of text on a screen - but you gotta deal with what you gotta deal with.

A small sampling of the Twitch reaction.

Conclusion

In the end, what was my takeaway from the experience?

First off, scoping is everything: Always aim to get an idea where you can maximize the outcome of the time invested with the highest amount of confidence of pulling it off. In this case, even though I was on short notice and in an environment I was unfamiliar with, I relied on something I knew, something I've done before, but no one else really has.

Secondly, broaden your influence: You never know when you can take something that seems initially unrelated, and bend it into something that you're doing with good results.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, step out of your comfort zone every so often; you'll never know what you'll find.

(And don't agree to everything willy-nilly, you absolute moron.)

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(part 20 of ?; first; previous; next)

The entire process of breaking down the shattered machine took three days. Katherine was impressed with the methodical approach the salvagers took. Under Andrac’s direction, everything was sorted: useful metal here, pieces too big to transport for now over there, tools in another pile, parts of tools in another. Using rope they had brought, and cables from the salvage, they began lashing together sleds from some of the spars, which they would have to drag over the rough slopes of the mountain pass, until they came to flat ground--it meant a lot of labor in the short term, but once they were back on the ice, it would mean they could bring back far more salvage than merely what could be carried on their backs. Though they would load up their packs and bags, too. The return journey would be considerably slower, but the reward for all this work, Eadwig said, was a bounty that would last them for many years. The most precious thing they found were the solar panels and some self-contained energy cells that still had considerable charge. The nuclear power plant was too heavy and too dangerous to remove--apparently some salvagers had tried that once, on a different beast, and poisoned their whole village. But the energy cells could be safely distributed among the different valleys, to power essential things like forges and the underground moss farms. At least for a little while, life in the Valleys would be somewhat easier, the threat of some sudden disaster a little more distant.

Katherine supposed that this was, in a way, what all human life had been like until not too long ago--you were one bad growing season, one bad drought or some other natural disaster away from ruin. To say nothing of more human disasters: war or tyrants or some plague brought by traders from a distant land. It was hard for her to believe that the ancestors of the People had really understood what they were signing up for. Who would intentionally condemn their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to a life of difficult labor and privation, even in the name of lofty ideals? But if any of the Dry Valleys People resented their ancestors’ choice, or thought it had been unwise, they didn’t show it. This was simply, for them, the Way Things Were, and there was a safety in that. The eternal, conservative urge of the human heart--and of societies schooled by scarcity--that says, we’ve got a tolerable thing going here. Let’s not upset the apple cart. It was a sentiment Katherine hardly shared, though she could appreciate the place it came from.

When they had finished with the first dragon, Andrac, Katherine, and a few others went to inspect the second. It was deeply buried; only part of its flank stuck out from beneath the ice and rubble that covered it, though the part that they could see didn’t look to be too badly damaged. A furious debate between Andrac and the others ensued, about whether they should attempt to salvage anything from this one, too. The party seemed to be of two minds: it would be dangerous, if the ground proved unstable or the repair and defense systems were still active. On the other hand, the reward was potentially greater. Even in the dry Antarctic air, which preserved much, wind and weather had rendered some of the most sensitive tools on the other platform useless. If this one had been buried not too long after it had ceased to function, it was possible it would yield even more valuable salvage.

“What do you think, Outlander?” Beonna asked.

Katherine was startled by the question. “Does it matter what I think?” she said.

“Sure it does. You’re in this same as us.”

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know if it would be worth it or not, but even if it is, I don’t think we’re getting in to this one anytime soon. None of the hatches are exposed. There’s no interface for me to try like there was on the other one. You might be able to cut through the side there--but I don’t know how far you’d get.”

“It’s true,” Andrac said. “We can always mark the spot--come back later, with more men and tools.”

Beonna seemed to agree, and the decision was made. The haul they had was enough for the time being. The others went back to help load the sleds, but Katherine lingered for a little while, exploring the back of the great beast.

Dragon, dragon, she thought. From the Latin word, if she remembered correctly. When she was a kid she had been fascinated by old words, the way they reached out of the past and seemed to carry immense secrets within them. She had thought, when she was a teenager, that maybe languages or history would have been the thing to study--but there was nothing in that anymore, her teachers had told her. You had cybernetics and modules now. You didn’t have to spend years of your life in school, and years more of immersion in a foreign country to learn to communicate with people. The old grief of Babel had been reversed, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing depended on who you asked, but it meant that the study of languages was as dead as the Romans. With it, too, had gone the study of ancient languages. Oh, sure, there might be modules out there for Latin or Greek, the really popular ones. But the world was no longer very much interested in the minutiae of its own history. It contended itself with the outlines. And it surely had no space for scholars to sit in dim offices in the corner of some university humanities department, poring over the work of long-dead philologists. Go into the sciences. Learn something useful! her teachers had told her. Well, maybe she hadn’t done exactly that. But she was still a scientist of a kind.

Something caught Katherine’s eye--a hatch or a compartment, a small one, just by her feet. She squatted down, and carefully pried the outer cover off, then popped off the access panel. Inside was a mess of electronic components. She poked around for a little bit, but she couldn’t make heads or tails, and there was no terminal or anything here. Something was still functioning inside this thing--there were a couple of indicator lights slowly blinking--but none of these seemed to be critical components. She poked around a bit more, then found something of interest.

It was a little black cylinder, about the size of her palm, with big block letters on it that said BACKUP DATA RECORDER - DO NOT REMOVE. Naturally, she removed it. She held it up; on the other side, it said PROPERTY OF ANTECO MINING INC - IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN - REWARD OFFERED. Some kind of retrievable storage? The equivalent of an airplane’s black box, maybe. It was a curious object, anyway, and Katherine liked curious. She slipped it into a pocket.

Underneath, in the spot where it had been seated, there was something that shined beautifully. Katherine reached in and pulled, and it came free--what looked to all the world like a dazzling, clear gemstone, set in silver. It was clearly some kind of electronic component, but despite its mundane nature, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Perhaps she would find someone back in the Valleys who would enjoy something like this. That, too, she stuck in her pocket.

“Hey, Outlander!” someone called out. She stood and turned around; it was Andrac. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“Coming!” Katherine shouted back. She stumbled her way back down the side of the platform, and jogged over to help the others finish packing.

* * *

The first day of the return journey was brutal--a lot of pulling sleds up steep slopes, a lot of almost losing her footing and sprawling onto the stony ground, and a lot of cussing (on her part) and shouting (on others’). Mostly words of encouragement, but also some words Leofe definitely had not taught her. It took the whole expedition to get the heaviest sleds up the top of the ridge, and they could only be brought down the mountainside a couple at a time. If they lost control of one, it was likely to go careening down a slope or over a boulder--crash, bang, a god-awful mess, and, in the darkness, probably no way to recover the lost cargo. So they went slowly and carefully. But once they were on the ice again, they moved much more quickly. They all took turns helping to pull the sleds, even Katherine, though she didn’t feel like she was contributing much. Her time in Antarctica had definitely toughened her up a bit--she had muscles now in places she didn’t know you could have them before--but she still felt a little like the expedition mascot.

They didn’t head back to Leofe’s village--High Settlement, the one Katherine thought of as her home base--since that was pretty far up the Middle Valley. Instead, they made for one of the smaller outlying villages, which was barely more than a few cottages, less than half a kilometer from the edge of the glacier. They left the sleds below and staggered up the hill to the nearest house; despite the fact that nearly twenty exhausted, hungry people had just showed up, the villagers seemed happy enough to see them. They were even happier when they learned they had just come back from a salvage expedition. They began talking with the salvagers excitedly, then a few of them rushed off to their own houses.

“What’s that all about?” Katherine asked Andrac.

“They’re going to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“To send word to the other villages. To bring more here. To help distribute the salvage. What, you didn’t think we were going to go around to every village ourselves, did you?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to.”

Andrac laughed. “No, people will come here to get the things they need.”

“Who decides how everything is distributed?”

Andrac looked confused. “People will take what they need.”

“What if more than one person needs the same thing?”

“They’ll figure something out. Or they’ll share. Do they not having sharing where you come from?”

“Is there some kind of system of barter? Or trade? Money?”

“Money? Why would we need money?”

“Uhh--” Katherine didn’t know the word for ‘economics’ in the Dry Valleys tongue. “Your system, your system of, ah, distributing scarce resources. Some societies use money. Some exchange favors and gifts. Some rely on, er, relationships of kindred and friendship. I am curious about your people. What they use.”

Andrac raised an eyebrow. “We talk to each other. We make sure everybody has the things they need.”

Katherine suspected he was being deliberately unhelpful, but she didn’t press the question. Instead she thanked the villager who handed her a bowl of something hot and meaty, and settled herself down by the fire to rest. Every muscle in her body ached; she hoped they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Within six hours, the first people from other villages began to arrive. Katherine watched as they did; everyone went up to Andrac and Eadwig first, greeting them by name, complimenting them on the success of their expedition. There was a little ritual to it, even if it wasn’t a formal one. Only then did they go down to inspect the haul, looking over it all very carefully, talking to the salvagers about what they’d found. When they came back, they made pleasant small talk about the journey, the weather, how each other’s relatives were doing--but they did not discuss the salvage itself, and this surprised Katherine a little. When one of the men sat down near her, she spoke to him.

“I have a question,” she said.

“You’re the outlander, aren’t you?”

“My name is Katherine.”

“Mine is Gar.”

“So what do you want from the salvage, Gar?”

Gar shifted in his seat uneasily.

“This and that,” he said. “Some of it could be very useful.”

“Like what?”

Gar looked uncomfortable, and Katherine wondered why. Andrac, noticing from across the room, came over and cut in.

“Now’s not the time to discuss that sort of thing,” he said. “We’ll all talk about it once everyone is here.”

Ah, thought Katherine. Maybe they want to give everybody a look first. No dibs, no deals worked out beforehand.

Over the next two days, as more people arrived, her suspicions were confirmed. The same pattern held; and only when there were men and women from just about every village in the Dry Valleys present, did they all gather in the largest house in the village; and then a great discussion began. It was like the longest, most agonizing committee meeting of any bureaucracy anywhere. First, every single item salvaged, from the smallest piece of metal to the most sophisticated laser cutter, was enumerated. Then, starting all over again, they went through every piece in order, and talked about who had a use for what. Then the competing claims had to be worked out.

There seemed to be a rough logic to this part. First, anybody who had claimed too much was pressured to pick only the things he or she really needed. Oh, Eadgifu, you don’t need the wrench, and the three loops of cable, and the plastic sheeting, do you? That’s quite a lot, don’t you think? All Thorgar here needs is a little of the plastic, surely you can give that up? And where there was really steep competition, for things like the laser drills, the expedition leaders got called in to mediate. Here, Andrac, what do you think? Eadwig, weren’t you saying the other day that our village really needs one of those? And whenever the bargaining got a little too heated--what do you mean, you need all that metal? Hasn’t your village taken more than enough already?--someone would step in, always a scrupulously neutral party, and say, wait, I’ve got something I need, shut up for a second and we’ll come back to you.

It was tedious in the extreme, but there was a ballet to it: nobody’s feelings were hurt, everybody’s opinion was taken into consideration, and everybody was set to go home with something. A few of the really big ticket items--the power cells were one--were divided up according to preexisting rules. Nobody got to claim those. But anything else, anyone in the room was entitled to make a claim on. And a particular phrase was repeated more than once--everything’s up for grabs. Nothing is to be held back.

Only as this process was winding up did Katherine think of the two little objects she held in her pocket; she had been fingering them absentmindedly, turning them over out of sight, when she realized one might very well consider them part of the salvage, too. And might consider that at least one of them might have non-trivial value. She began to worry more, as she saw the intense discussion over the last few items, which very nearly broke out into an actual argument more than once.

“Hey, hey. Enough!” Andrac finally said. “We’ll all sleep on it, okay? No use in getting mad, there’s enough to go around. Here, shake his hand, Alfstan.” He pushed one surly-looking man toward another. They shook, and the room relaxed a little; after that people began filing out, heading over to the other houses or to tents they’d brought along. “Back here in the morning!” Andrac called out. “Eadwig and I are heading home after breakfast. So let’s get the last of the business done early!”

Katherine had been watching this from the back of the room; she slipped through the thick knot of people over to Andrac, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

“Sure, outlander.”

She took him around the side of the house to a quiet spot.

“I have a question about the salvage.”

“Go ahead.”

“If someone held something back from the salvage, what would happen? How would people react?”

“I don’t know. Nobody would do that.”

“Nobody?”

“It would be… strange. Selfish. Really wrong. I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Is there a law against it?��

“There doesn’t need to be. It just wouldn’t happen. Why? You’re not accusing somebody of something, are you?”

“No, not at all. I was just curious. You know me. Nosy outlander.”

“Hm.” Andrac didn’t seem convinced by this. “You sure everything is all right?”

Katherine winced. “I’m sorry. It was me.”

“What?”

“I took something. Just before we left. I didn’t think about it until just now. It didn’t seem important. But I think I violated one of your customs by accident. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

She took the data module and the jewel out of her pocket, and held them out to Andrac.

“You should take them. Tell the others--I don’t know, tell them you found them in one of the sleds or something. Or tell them I didn’t know your rules, and I didn’t mean to steal.”

Andrac took the objects from her, and turned them over in his hand.

“They say a thief brings a great curse down on themselves when they steal,” he said. He tapped the data module with one finger. Then he handed both objects back to Katherine. “But you’re right. You didn’t know. You’re not a thief, just a stranger to our ways.”

“You should still take them.”

“We don’t buy and sell among ourselves--but we’re familiar with the concept. Consider these your payment for your help. Honestly, I don’t think anybody here has a use for these trinkets. If for some reason someone does give you trouble about them, just tell them to speak to me.”

“You think it’s really okay?”

Andrac nodded seriously. “Yes. It would be different if you had not spoken to me--but you have shown understanding and sympathy to our customs. I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go get some rest, Katherine. We’re heading home early tomorrow.”

[kazcaldwell]

lovable jock x dumb is good x the heart

@murderclubhq

NAME.

FULL NAME: Kazran Caldwell PREFERRED NAME/NICKNAMES: ‘Kaz’ to a majority of the world. His sports bros call him ‘Caldwell’.

APPEARANCE.

FACECLAIM: Tyler Posey SEX: Cisgender male HEIGHT: 5′10, pretty average. WEIGHT: around 160 lbs. a little lighter when it’s baseball time and a little heavier in the winter during bulking season. BUILD: he’s generally lean and muscular, with a little more muscle definition in his thighs and calves. HAIR: short and black. he would grow it out but his mother makes him cut it regularly. HANDS: big hands for holding many balls. occasionally sports a big ink stain on the side of his right hand from an intense drawing sesh. too often has dirt caked under his fingernails. his hands always smell vaguely like a baseball glove. SCARS: a few, on his knee and calf, and a good one by his elbow. they’re all from various sports injuries, except the one across his hip that came from the time johnnie convinced him it would be a good idea to parkour over a barbed wire fence. CLOTHES: absolute sports bro garbage trash. ratty, dirty sneakers and white socks that come up a little too far. basketball shorts or track pants. jeans on only the most special occasions. his shirt is usually a jersey of some sort, and he’s rarely seen without a baseball cap (backwards, naturally). OTHER FEATURES: dimples! he has the most adorkable dimples when he smiles, which is most of the time. he also has a stick n poke tattoo on his wrist that his bff johnnie gave him - a poorly rendered skull and crossbones.

SPEECH.

VOICECLAIM: if Tyler Posey was a good southern boy ACCENT: slow and southern. LANGUAGE: english and spanish. his spanish pronunciation is inhibited by his deeply american accent, much to his mother’s chagrin, but he is fluent. ARTICULATION: he often has to search for a word or way of phrasing something in the middle of a sentence, but when he finds it, he says it with confidence. EDUCATION: kaz’s vocab is a lot of slang, peppered with ain’ts and y’alls. sometimes he’ll surprise the room with a three-syllable word but it’s always a shock when it happens. LAUGHTER: loud and often, from deep in his chest. has probably teared up from laughing more than he’s teared up from crying.

MANNERISMS.

FACE: his heart is displayed right on his face, in flashing neon lights. he’s often accused of having a case of the puppy dog eyes. HANDS: he fiddles a lot. he has a hard time keeping still, and his hands always need to be doing something. he doesn’t use them to talk, but he’ll be spinning a pencil in his hand mid-conversation for sure. LEGS/FEET: similar to his hands, he’s generally tapping and bouncing his leg to get out the pent up energy. EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: the happier and more excited he gets, the louder kaz is. he has no concept of his own volume and the halls of normal secondary are often blessed with echoes of him yelling, “BRO!”. when he’s upset, however, it’s quite the opposite. he withdraws and grows quieter. HABITS: kaz can’t stand the quiet, so if there’s a silent room, he can often be heard making beatboxing noises under his breath. PERSONAL SPACE: kaz has no concept of such a thing. anyone in the vicinity should prepare for him to barge into their bubble without the slightest thought.

HEALTH:

DIET: as a growing sports boy, kaz eats quite a lot. mostly protein, but when he’s not trying to be ultra fit for baseball, he’s a snack fiend. SLEEP: as a kid, growing up in a graveyard gave him frequent nightmares. he grew out of them, but his sleep cycle never really recovered, and he wakes up easily throughout the night. EXERCISE: every morning before school, he goes on a mile run. on the weekends, he does it for longer. he hits the gym to weight train whenever his team does but he doesn’t usually seek this out on his own. he’s more of a runner. CLEANLINESS: he’s a dirty, sweaty boy because he spends all of his time outside. his mother is unsure if he owns a piece of clothing without a grass stain on it. ODOR: general boy stank masked with the strong scent of old spice. NARCOTICS: although his friends dabble in recreational drugs, kaz is a good boy who doesn’t touch anything stronger than weed. he’ll even pass on that if he’s got practice or a game the next day. ADDICTIONS: baseball.

PERSONAL.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: extrovert as hell. he hates alone time and will bug his friends to be in their presence no matter the time or day. OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: annoyingly optimistic. he’s like the bard of the group. when he’s sad, he has his moments, but it isn’t difficult for him to jump back to the glass being half full. SEXUALITY: straight-ish as far as he knows. he’s only ever dated girls, but there was that one time he woke up to his best friend’s hands on him. johnnie claimed he was half asleep and thought kaz was a girl, so it was whatever. he doesn’t think about it a lot. romance has never been a focus of his and he generally only dates because it’s a thing everyone else does. ROMANTIC: kaz has a huge heart and he can be super romantic. he’s that way with everyone he meets. PLANNING: kaz would rather rush into a situation and figure it out on the fly than stand back and make a plan. if he’s forced to rely on others before he can act, he likes to get the ball rolling by throwing out a million suggestions until one sticks. INTUITION: when it comes to the game, kaz has great intuition. it’s like he knows what the other team is going to do before they do it. he trusts his gut, and he brings that with him in real life situations as well. GOALS: more than anything, kaz wants to get out of normal and explore the world. his way to do that is through baseball and a potential scholarship, which he is very close to achieving. INSECURITIES: he takes most things in stride, but he can be insecure about his intelligence. especially with the murder club, he often feels like he isn’t contributing or helping the cause. he internalizes a lot of it and tries to put himself out there anyway, in the hopes that he’ll accidentally do something right. PHILOSOPHY: the caldwell family is not particularly religious, at least not more than their neighbors, but they are very traditional. they have a lot of beliefs about the sanctity of life and death. kaz is far more hedonistic/utilitarian in that he does what makes him happy in the moment and disregards whatever it might mean for his afterlife.

RELATIONSHIPS.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: kaz lives with his biological mother and father, but he doesn’t have a close relationship with them. they’ve always been distant and mostly allowed kaz to run off and do his own thing. they’re responsible parents, if not emotionally neglectful. FRIENDSHIPS: being a popular guy, kaz has a large social circle. he’s closest to the other guys on his baseball team, particularly johnnie ward, his best friend. after his brother’s disappearance, kaz has been distancing himself from his regular crowd and spending more time with the murder club. ANNOYANCES: kaz is the ultimate peace keeper. he rarely thinks that anything is worth fighting over and always tries to see things from the other person’s shoes, when he can. the only thing an argument is ever good for is entertainment when you’re watching two people go at it and you know you’re not involved. ADVERSARIES: kaz is more forgiving than he should be. he takes most things in stride, so it would be difficult to do anything so heinous that you lost his friendship. anything involving his brother is a good way to get him riled up. STRANGERS: kaz treats everyone he meets very familiarly, like they’ve been best friends for years. FUN STUFF: he does the standard teenage boy stuff with his pals. they play video games, trash other people’s houses at parties, hit each other with sticks, etc. he’s very active and hands on so he rough houses with his friends a lot. BEST FRIEND: johnnie ward is his bff and has been for a long time. johnnie is like the mr. hyde to his dr. jekyll - the one who always drags kaz along to do the dangerous, slightly illegal things. WORST ENEMY: at the moment, kaz’s worst enemy has to be the sheriff and the rest of the police force. although he’s generally always been on good terms with them due to his sports prowess bringing renown to normal (johnnie often shoves kaz at the cops when they get into a spot, so he can smile their way out), he can’t forgive them for the lazy, uncaring way they’ve handled his brother’s disappearance.

INTERACTIONS.

GROUPS: the more the merrier. kaz loves having people around him and thrives in group settings. he’s the guy at the party who keeps hopping between different social groups to interact with everyone he can. OPENNESS: it’s a 50/50 situation. there are certain things that kaz keeps very private, that he’s unwilling to talk about. he’s so bent on keeping it positive that he doesn’t often share the deep stuff unless he’s doing so flippantly. however, there isn’t a lot that he takes seriously enough to treat this way. GENEROSITY: kaz would probably give both his kidneys if someone really needed them. he grew up lower class (not as much as the wards, but enough) so he doesn’t have too much to share, but he shares it all the same. JEALOUSY: romantically, kaz is not the jealous type. he’s so socialable himself that he couldn’t imagine getting upset if someone else was the same way. the only thing that’s ever really made him jealous is seeing the way his more well-off teammates live. they can afford the nicer cleats and have more time to spend in the weight room, etc. etc. he’s seen how it takes him more work to stay at the same place as them and wishes it were easier. TEMPER: generally patient as a saint, if only because most stuff either flies over his head or is taken in a positive manner by him. his temper has gotten worse recently, but it’s still very tame. AFFECTION: kaz’s way of showing affection is through touch and time spent with the other person. he’s very affectionate with all of his friends, always boosting them up and being their hype man. a total team player. DISTASTE: if he dislikes someone, he simply becomes the opposite of himself. cold, robotic, generally antisocial around them. ETIQUETTE: polite enough. his mama raised him to be a gentleman so he acts accordingly, but he can’t help being a little rude around the edges without realizing so. RESPONSIBILITY: he feels responsible for everything. he’s always been extremely independent, as his parents left him alone to take care of himself and then eventually his brother, so he sees himself as the one who has to handle it all. if something doesn’t go right, he feels like it’s his fault and internalizes the blame. he projects his bad feelings onto others when they’re bad, if only because he has a hard time processing them. CONFIDENCE: kaz is very confident in most aspects of life, aside from anything to do with academia. he rolls with the punches. HONESTY: honest, but never in a way that intentionally hurts someone else’s feelings. he will occasionally blurt out something that’s honest and rude, but it’s usually accidental and he tries to put a positive spin on most stuff. LEADER OR FOLLOWER: follower, and pushover. kaz’s friends could get him to jump off a bridge if they really wanted. he likes to go with the crowd, to feel like his belongs. FLIRTING: if kaz is speaking, he’s flirting. ATTENTION SPAN: poor. he’s very easily distracted. the only place where he’s super focused is out on the field.

LIFE.

DUTY: kaz has always been responsible for taking care of his brother. when baseball started to get more intense with scouts was when he asked abby to take over for him. he’s the de facto captain of his team and is in charge of making sure everybody is in shape and doing what they should. COMBAT SKILLS: he’s a lover, not a fighter. but he’s fit and athletic so it wouldn’t be difficult for him to defend himself or others. HOME: he’s a garbage boy with a very messy cave of a room. but it’s organized chaos and once a month his mom makes him clean up because it smells worse than the dead people in there. COOKING: he can use a microwave. hot pockets all day, baby. DRIVING: he doesn’t have a car, preferring to get about town on rollerblades, but he can sometimes be seen driving johnnie’s white mustang when his best friend is out of it. FINANCES: the caldwell’s live a humble lifestyle. they’re on the lower side of lower middle class. more like upper poverty. but kaz does odd jobs here and there for cash money, like mowing lawns and shoveling snows and such neighborhoodly things. PETS: there’s a feral cat that lives in the graveyard. he also has johnnie. LAW: he’s gotten in trouble a few times - breaking and entering, vandalizing public property, public urination... mostly things his friends were doing that they blamed kaz for because they knew he’d get out of it. he doesn’t have a record because that’s usually true. TRAVELING: he’s never been out of normal, but he wants to travel the world more than anything. MEDICAL: the only time kaz has ever had a real medical mishap was at a very young age, when his parents left him in the car to go to a town council meeting. middle of summer, way too hot, and it landed him in the hospital nearly dead from heat stroke. he doesn’t suffer any lingering medical issues from it but it has left him with a strong desire to always feel like his body is functioning and alive. PARTYING: he’s a partier, always letting his friends drag him along to the haunt of the night. HOBBIES: drawing. he doodles in his sketchbook. it started being a more frequent activity as a way to bond with alfie, but he does it on his own as well.

[montierosepha-blog]

Epic RDR2 Extra Story

So you may have heard that there was originally more main story for RDR2 involving another love interest for Arthur, involving another 5 or so missions but that ultimately it was written out. Well here it is....sort of – it's definitely the closest thing to DLC we're going to get for a while!!! The short version of how this came to be is: Got depressed and wrote epic extra RDR2 story based in Chapter 3 with over 50 created 'screencaps' to accompany. Never done 3D character creation before so taught myself everything I could. Used a 17 yr old version of Photoshop and a free 3D rendering program. All of this is dedicated to G.J.V who was a massive gamer and tragically passed away from a similar infection to TB 3 days after we got married. Important to note – I wrote this when only in Chapter 3, I hadn't completed the game (still haven't more on that later) There are of course some minor clashes and bits that need changing but well artistic license! In terms of story this happens in Clements Point pre. The mission where Arthur is kidnapped by the O'Driscolls. Everything is pretty much the same, with the addition of the new character, and Molly is not with Dutch yet. I have used a mission from Chapter 2 just because it fitted so well incase you get confused! Along with the extra story I have written a slightly amended ending to Arthur's death (don't worry he still dies!) as well as an Epilogue moment for the new character.

Honestly I put way too much time into this, but it got me through an extremely rough time so I'm grateful just for that. However if you like it please let me know! Also I'm happy to answer any questions, there were lots of little nuances that were put in (some on purpose and some moments that were accidentally relevant to events or experiences that at the time of writing I didn't know anything about, but somehow worked out!)

So here we go!!!

Resilient, independant and deadly with a bow, Grace joined the Van der Linde gang at the same time as Charles. They had met several months before whilst tracking the same bear and decided that in the changing times, travelling together was perhaps safer for them both. From a wealthy background but with a tumultuous childhood, Grace spent most of her life surviving alone, except for a few years when she was taken in by an Indian tribe; learning and working alongside them she eventually proved herself and became one of them. However with the violent climate and her own troubles she decided to head out again on her own. She prefers the predictability of beats to men and whilst her dealings with the civilised world are limited, she is highly educated and quick thinking, something which appeals greatly to Dutch, but it appears her interest lie elsewhere much to his frustrations

Because I know you'll be reading the dialogue in the characters voices here is a clip of Grace's voice (it's a bit of a spoiler to the story but the only bit that could be re written into a monologue) 

https://youtu.be/wyekV2huIV8 (click through link may not work please copy and paste to browser to listen) The first time Arthur met Grace; a few months before the Blackwater incident, she was carrying a huge deer carcass across her shoulders. He offered to help and was promptly shut down, rather than take offence he found it quite endearing, and after a sincere apology from Grace later that day the two found themselves sharing stories and enjoying each others company. Whilst the events of the last few months have seen little time for socialising, the gang now settled, albeit temporarily in Clements Point, has meant that there are at least the occasional times for frivolity. With some money set aside, and recently appointed as deputies to Sheriff Gray of Rhodes, Dutch decided that it might be good for the gang to let off a little steam in Rhodes Saloon one evening - of course providing everyone was going to be on their best behaviour.

Clements Point Gang Camp, Early evening.

The majority of the camp is getting ready to head into town, a few of the gang have decided to stay behind but all are in good spirits, except Arthur who is clearly agitated.

Dutch- Arthur what is the matter with you this evening? Arthur- Nothing. Just, are you sure this is a good idea? Dutch- Arthur it will be fine! There's not going to be any trouble. We're just going to go, make a few new friends and get a better understanding of what we've got here. There is nothing to worry about! Arthur- Okay ok. I'm just being cautious is all. Grace walks past in her bloodied hunting jacket. Grace- Hey Arthur. Mr. Van der Linde, well don't you both look nice! Arthur- Aren't you coming into Rhodes with us? Grace- Well I was going to, but I don't think a jacket covered in animal insides is going to make quite the impression you two had in mind as deputies. Arthur- Well I'm sure everyone won't mind waiting for you.

Dutch- No, Arthur. Why don't you and Bill take the cart and go on ahead with everyone. I'm more than happy to wait for Miss. Holden. Grace- That would be wonderful, Thank you. Dutch- Not at all, my dear. Grace disappears off, an irritated Arthur turns back to Dutch. Arthur- And what do we do if Sheriff Gray happens to be there and you're not? Dutch- Entertain him, Arthur. He's an idiot and a drunk, so even you shouldn't have a problem holding conversation with the man. Just keep everyone on their best behaviour and every thing will be fine. Arthur- (he lets out a sigh.) Whatever you say, you're the boss. Dutch- That I am.  (To the gang ) Now go have some fun! Just make it well behaved fun!

Arthur and the majority of the gang clamber onto the wagon and set off, leaving a few members, and more importantly Dutch and Grace behind.

The Parlour House in Rhodes, Later that evening.

It's busy and the gang are having a good time along with the locals. Charles and Arthur are at the bar. Charles – You look nervous. What's up? Arthur- Ah, I'm just still not sure about this whole thing Dutch is trying to pull with the Sheriff. Seems like a bad idea to me putting ourselves out in public so much like this, and as deputies! Charles- Dutch is smart man, I'm sure he knows what he's doing. Arthur- I damn well hope so. Where the hell is he anyway?

As Arthur speaks the doors to the parlour house open and in walks Dutch, with Grace firmly on his arm. They walk over and greet Arthur and Charles at the bar.

Arhur- You finally made it. Dutch- Of course! And doesn't Miss. Holden look wonderful? Grace looks a little uncomfortable as Charles and Arthur nod in agreement. Arhur- Beautiful. Looking like a real lady. Grace-As opposed to the rest of the time when I look like...? Arthur stumbles for what to say realising his insult.

Grace- (she laughs) it's ok, Arthur! Thank you. So drinks? Dutch- Actually I should find Sheriff Gray first. Would you accompany me, Miss Holden? If you two don't mind? Arthur- Sure; can't let drinking get in the way of business. Dutch escorts a reluctant Grace away which annoys Arthur. Arthur- Look at him parading her around like a prize horse. Charles-I wouldn't worry too much, Arthur. Grace has no ambitions with Dutch. Arthur- Well she should, he's the one in charge; it'd be a smart choice. Charles- Love isn't about being smart. Just look at my parents. Arthur- Well maybe. But you know what, there's too much going on right now to be thinking about any of that. Charles- Perhaps you should stop worrying, do what Dutch says, and actually have some fun. Arthur- You're right. Ha, you're always right, Charles. (to the barman) Another drink! A short while later Grace has managed to separate herself from Dutch, and is chatting to a group of rather drunk men, when one of them insists she dance with him. She's reluctant but not wanting to cause trouble she obliges. The men are rowdy and as the song ends Grace is very keen to get away and makes her way towards Arthur who's still at the bar. Just before she reaches him the man grabs her hand pulling her backwards asking her to dance some more. She politely says no but he insists. Arthur then decides to step forward. Arthur- The lady says no, mister. Drunk man - Oh and what business is it of yours? Arthur- Keep talking and you'll find out! Drunk Man- Oh really?

Grace- Ok, that's enough. We should go get a drink, Arthur. Arthur- (he calms a little as they turn and walk away) Sure.

Grace-Thank you for stepping in. Arthur- 'Course. Always ready to save a damsel in distress. Grace-Well I definitely ain't no damsel Arthur- Hah yes indeed. They laugh but Arthur then looks noticeably uncomfortable in the situation not really sure how to make conversation. Arthur- I... Uh.. Meant what I said earlier, you do... look very... Pretty. Grace- Thank you. I'm not going to lie I feel a bit uncomfortable in such a big dress, all done up! Arthur- Ha me too! (She looks at him a little quizzically.) ...That's... a nice necklace.

Grace- Oh, well I'd say thank you again, but, it's not mine. Dutch... gave it to me before we came here. Arthur- Looks expensive. Grace- Hmm, I think he's trying to make a good impression to these people. Arthur- Well he's certainly enjoying having a lady on his arm this evening. Grace- That's just business. Having a woman around makes him seem more trustworthy apparently. Arthur- If only they knew. Grace-I don't know what you're implying, Mr. Morgan! They laugh and chat for a little longer until Grace politely excuses herself and heads out. Dutch comes over to Arthur and is a clearly irritated. Dutch- Enjoying yourself, Arthur? Arthur- Just having a good time like you told us to. Dutch- I saw Miss. Holden was the object of some attention earlier. Arthur- Those guys dancing? Nah they're harmless. Dutch- Mm indeed. Mary Beth comes over to them both. Mary Beth- I'm sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but have you seen Grace? Arthur- Yeah she not long went out the back there. Mary Beth- Oh... Dutch- What's wrong? Mary Beth- Oh, nothing I guess. Just that man that wanted her to dance earlier. He's been watching her the whole time, just a bit odd you know? But I saw him head out that same way a minute ago. Arthur puts down his beer and with a look he and Dutch head out. Dutch-Arthur remember who we are to these people. Don't cause any trouble. Arthur- I'm not gonna cause any trouble I'm gonna prevent trouble. They head out the back outside to find the drunk guy blocking Grace from getting back in grabbing her wrists. Arthur- Hey! As Grace goes to move past the guy he grabs her and forces a kiss. Just as Arthur and Dutch start to move she has no  hesitation and knees the guy in the balls. Arthur stops and laughs, but Dutch looks less amused.

Drunk Man- Bitch! Grace- Asshole! Arthur- And to think we were worried about you. Grace- Well I told you, I ain't no damsel that needs rescuing! Dutch- well let's keep you close for the rest of the evening, shall we. We can't afford any trouble here. As they walk back into the bar Bill comes over. Bill- Poker. Upstairs. You in? Dutch- Not for me, I don't think it would set the right impression. Bill- Arthur? Arthur- Sure, I'm feeling lucky.

Grace- Me too. Bill- You? Grace- Sure, why you two scared? Bill- Not at all. Your money is the same as everyone else's! Arthur offers Grace an arm. Arthur- I guess we'll see you later, Dutch. Grace takes Arthur's arm and they follow Bill upstairs whilst Dutch is left fuming. They all play for a bit, Bill ends up going out quite early on much to his annoyance. Grace holds her own fairly well with the rest of the men including an unusually successful Arthur, but she decides to eventually bow out. Grace- Right, Boys. That is me done. Men- No stay! Grace- No, I've had too much to drink to keep my wits about me. So I am leaving with my dignity and my money! She heads back towards the stairs to be greeted by Dutch sitting on the sofa. Dutch- Miss Holden. Grace- Oh, Dutch. Dutch- Care to join me? Grace- Sure. Dutch- (pouring two drinks) Well, I didn't know you were so good at poker. It's not really a ladies game. Grace-There's lots of things you don't know I'm good at. (she downs the whiskey shot he poured) Dutch-Is that a fact... Grace- Indeed. (she's definitely drunk)

Dutch-You really do intrigue me, Miss. Holden. Beauty and brains it seems. (He takes her hand) I don't think I've ever met a woman quite like you. (he pauses for a moment). Arthur sees this all from the poker table but is in the middle of a hand (“You gonna play or not!”) At that point Charles walks up the stairs and over to Grace and Dutch, two beers in hand. Charles- Dutch there's a man downstairs asking for you, something about a meeting tomorrow morning. Dutch- (Dutch sighs and reluctantly stands )Ah yes. Do excuse me. Charles- (handing Grace a beer) Here's that beer Arthur wanted. Grace- (she's very relieved) Thanks. Grace walks back to the poker table just as the hand ends, Arthur didn't win. Random Man- Hey, she's back! Arthur- Everything ok? Grace- Yeah, of course. (she hands him the beer) Arthur- You know what, I'm gonna need more than this (he sips at the beer) Come sit here and be my good luck charm. (he indicates his lap and Grace happily obliges) The game continues and Arthur wins a big hand and the 2 other players bust out. Arthur- Sorry gentlemen - looks like my good luck charm worked. The men disperse leaving Arthur and Grace alone upstairs. Grace goes to the sofa where she and Dutch were sitting and picks up the barely touched bottle of whiskey. Grace- Hey, Dutch left this, wanna help me finish it. Arthur- Oh I dunno, stealing a man's girl is one thing, stealing his whisky is another! Grace- Considering what you do, this is hardly stealing. Arthur- Ok. You convinced me. Grace- Didn't take much! Arthur- Shut up. Grace- And if you call me Dutch's girl again, which I most certainly am not I'll- Arthur- Oh I know, I saw what you did to the guy downstairs. Grace- Oh that was nothing! I will do much, much worse to you... When I've had less to drink though. They laugh and head out beyond the now empty poker table to the balcony.

Downstairs the bar is emptying. The gang are heading home. Dutch is also saying goodbye to his business man and asks the girls where Grace is. They haven't seen her.

Bill- Dont worry, Dutch. I'll get them home safe. Dutch- Thank you. Have you seen Arthur? Bill - 'fraid not. He was doing pretty well on the poker earlier but that's the last I saw him. You coming back with us? Dutch- No, I'm going to get a room here tonight, I'm meeting someone early tomorrow morning. Hosea- (walking out with the others pats Dutch on the shoulder) Oh Dutch, you never stop. Dutch- There's no time to stop, Hosea. We stop, we perish. I'll see you all tomorrow. They all leave and Dutch asks for a room. Arthur and Grace are out on the balcony, merrily drunk and telling stories. Grace- (she gets up and looks over the balcony) I think everyone's gone! Arthur- Nah. Grace- No they're all gone. The wagons gone! Arthur- (he comes over) They have gone! What the hell! Grace- I guess we'll have to sleep here. Arthur- On the balcony? Grace- No. We'll get a room. Arthur- Together? Grace- Don't worry Arthur, I won't bite. They go back inside and lean over the bannisters shouting down to the barman who's clearing up. Grace- Hey Barman- Oh I didn't know there was anyone still here. Arthur- Do you have any rooms? Barman- Only one. The little one in the corner up there. Grace- We'll take it. Just throw me the key. The barman hesitates but eventually throws up the key, neither of them manage to catch it of course. They open the door, to a single bed room. Arthur- Well this is...cosy Grace- It's fine we just need somewhere to sleep. She goes over and sits on the bed. Arthur- You know, I've had a good time tonight. Grace- Me too. You're good fun, Arthur. Arthur is still standing glancing out the window. Grace- What's the matter? Arthur- Ah just thinking Grace- You probably shouldn't do that. Leave Dutch to do the thinking. Arthur- It's Dutch I'm thinking about! He'd kill me if he knew I was here with you. Grace- Don't say it. I will hurt you. Arthur- I know, I know....just... Dutch thinks- Grace-You know, maybe you shouldn't worry about what Dutch thinks and just have a little fun. She gets up and goes over to him.

Arthur- (smiling) Charles said exactly the same thing. Grace- Well, Charles is always right. Arthur- ...He is, isn't he... They kiss.

Rhodes Saloon, Bedroom, The next morning.

Grace wakes up and sees Arthur almost dressed. She smiles.

Arthur- We should really be getting back to camp. Grace- Sure. She starts to get dressed, Arthur turns away, almost embarrassed. Arthur- I uh, I'll see what I can do about transport. Grace- (she smiles at him) Ok. Arthur heads out, the morning light through the windows is strong in his eyes as he heads slowly towards the stairs. He stops suddenly as he sees Dutch, with his back turned looking out through the balcony doors.

Arthur- Dutch! Dutch- (he continues to look outside) Good morning, Arthur. I trust you slept well? Arthur- Uh yeah, I guess. Dutch- Because I know you didn't sleep alone. Arthur- Look, Dutch... Dutch- (he turns to face Arthur) Oh Arthur, I've watched you make many mistakes but I'm not sure if you've ever been quite so stupid.

Grace is dressed and heads out of the room towards the stairs but stops when she realises Dutch and Arthur are in front of her. Arthur- Dutch, listen. Last night was alot of fun, and we all had too much to drink. And Grace.... Well... I mean, it meant nothing... Dutch glances over Arthur's shoulder to see Grace who heard everything. Arthur turns to see her and his face drops. Arthur- I didn't... Grace- Dutch, you were my ride here, can we go home now please. She walks past Arthur to the top of the stairs and stops. Dutch- (he looks at Arthur, almost smiling) Of course, Miss. Holden. They walk down the stairs leaving Arthur alone.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, later that day.

Arthur is sitting alone at the fire when Charles comes over to join him. He asks Arthur what happened last night and Arthur explains. Charles- I see. I wondered why Dutch seemed so happy with himself today. Arthur- As far as he's concerned he's won some big prize.

Charles- Hmm, I wouldn't say he's won anything, but Arthur you've got to tell her how you feel, at least explain what happened. Arthur- I dunno. I ain't exactly good with feelings at the best of times. Charles- Well don't leave it too long. There's no time promised to any of us.

Over the next few days Grace stays away from the camp, mostly out hunting, so Arthur doesn't run into her at all. A week or so passes and she and Sadie are down by the river, teaching Sadie how to use a bow. Arthur finally has the courage to come and talk to her. Arthur- Hello ladies. Sadie- Hey, Arthur. Grace says nothing. Arthur- Uh Sadie, I need to talk to Grace, could you give us a minute Sadie- Sure.(she leaves) Arthur- Its, uh been a while. Grace- Yeah it has. Arthur- Haven't seen you around much, thought you might be avoiding me. Grace- Maybe I was.

Arthur- So is now a good time to talk? Grace- That depends. I'm holding some pretty sharp arrows so I'd choose your words carefully. He smiles, but then realises she wasn't really joking. Arthur- Look I feel like a prize idiot about what happened. Everything with Dutch, it was just so complicated. I didn't mean to upset you but I didn't know what I was supposed to say to him. Grace- Well telling Dutch it meant nothing seems pretty uncomplicated to me. Arthur- Of course it didn't mean nothing Grace- Then what did it mean, Arthur? Arthur- I... (he still can't say how he feels.) Grace- I thought as much. (she walks away.) Arthur- Grace! (to himself) Uh you dumb moron. Arthur looks up to see Dutch watching from his tent.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, a few weeks later.

In the next few weeks Dutch takes alot of interest in Grace, spending time with her, talking, lending her books, much to the annoyance of Arthur who often disappears for days at a time. But Dutch then has a job and he wants Arthur's help. Turns out there's a very important (and very wealthy) couple relocating to Saint Denis. Although most of their belongings are travelling via train the pair themselves are going via stagecoach, along with their most valuable possessions and money. It's Dutch's plan to have himself, Arthur, Charles and Grace attack the stagecoach and steal everything they can. Arthur- (to Dutch) So you actually want to do this with us? Dutch- Of course! The opportunity to rob some pompous, bastard; watch him squeal at the sight of us, oh I wouldn't pass that up, Arthur. Arthur- Fair enough. But uh, Grace? She ain't exactly the heist type. Grace- (walking into the conversation) I am more than capable of robbing a few rich, old folks, thank you, Arthur. Dutch- Exactly! She and Charles are the secret weapon. Take out the riders with arrows, nice and quietly and then we swoop in and do the rest. It's subtlety Arthur. You don't always have to go in all guns blazing to get the job done! Charles- The horses are ready, let's go. The four of them set off as the sun sets and night time approaches.

On a quiet road somewhere between Rhodes and Saint Denis. Night.

The stagecoach arrives and Charles and Grace take out the riders as planned, however as Dutch and Arthur head down towards the coach they see a second, heavily guarded coach approaching. They'd hit a decoy instead. As the main carriage approaches, they realise what's happened and a fire fight ensues. Charles and Grace ride down from their positions to help but Grace gets knocked off her horse and takes cover by the main stagecoach with the passengers inside. They're outnumbered and realise there's more guards coming. Dutch manages to get to Grace and gets her up onto his horse as they ride off they are heavily pursued and get separated from Charles and Arthur. Dutch rides far, eventually losing the guards but they are completely lost. They come across an empty cabin and decide to stop.

An abandoned cabin somewhere in the wilderness. Night.

Dutch- We should stay here tonight. Head out first thing in the morning and find our way back. Grace- Ok. I'll see if I can get a fire going. Dutch- Thank you, Miss. Holden. She works on getting the fire together as Dutch hunts around the cabin. Dutch- Well there's no food anywhere but I found this. (holds a bottle) which I am sincerely hoping is some form of alcohol. They sit close together to get warm by the fire and drink the alcohol Dutch found. Grace- I hope Charles and Arthur got away ok. Dutch- Oh I'm sure they did. Grace- What happened back there? Why was there another coach? Dutch- I don't know. I guess the information we got was wrong somehow. Such a damn waste, all for nothing. Grace- I was going to wait til we got back to camp but, well it wasn't totally for nothing... She pulls a massive money stack and 2 large bags of jewellery out of her satchel. Dutch- How on earth did you get this? Grace- When I was knocked down and took cover by the coach it was just sitting there, in a chest in the back. Dutch- Well how about that! Grace- I know I'm new to robbing rich folks but us hunters always know how to find what we're looking for. Dutch- You are an exceptional woman, Miss. Holden. Grace- (she takes another swig of drink) That I am, Dutch.

He moves closer. Dutch- I could definitely use an exceptional woman right now. He kisses her passionately and she makes no move to stop him.

The abandoned cabin, Early morning, the next day.

Grace wakes early and heads outside to see to Dutch's horse. She's feeling rather unwell and Dutch comes outside just as she's being sick. Dutch- Are you ok, Miss. Holden? Grace- I'm fine. I think it was whatever that drink was last night.

Dutch- I see. About last night- Grace- We should be getting back to camp. Everyone is probably worried not knowing if you're safe or not. Dutch- (hesitantly) Of course.

They get onto Dutch's horse and set off back home towards camp.

Clements Point camp, Afternoon, later that day.

As Dutch and Grace arrive back, everyone is pleased to see them. Arthur comes straight over to them both. Arthur- Well I am glad you're both ok, but Dutch, what the hell happened last night? Dutch- Arthur, it doesn't matter. We might not have come away with everything we hoped for but we didn't end up empty handed. Miss. Holden managed to get this. He takes out the money and jewellery bags and walks back to his tent clearly happy with how events turned out. Arthur- (looks to Grace) You ok? (he points to the marks on her face.) Grace- I'm fine. Just scratches. Arthur- Well at least you two were successful. Grace- What? Arthur- The money, and jewellery. Grace- I was just lucky. Arthur- Well you've certainly made Dutch happy. Are you sure you're ok? Grace- I'm fine, just tired. I'll see you later, Arthur. She walks away leaving Arthur a little confused.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, later that day.

A few of the gang including Grace are sitting around the fire, Arthur comes over to join them and sits himself next to her. Arthur- Hey. Grace- Hey. Arthur- Sadie and I was thinking of heading into Rhodes tomorrow wondered if you wanted to come with us, anything you needed? Grace- No. I'm fine, thank you. Arthur- Are you sure everything's ok? Did something happen with the stagecoach...? Grace- No, I'm fine, I'm just tired. I guess you were right, maybe heists aren't my thing. (She gets up.) I'll see you all in the morning. She walks away. Arthur hesitates for a moment and then decides to follow her but he stops when he sees Dutch is talking to her.

Dutch- Miss. Holden, are you... Is everything ok? Grace- I'm fine. Just going to sleep. Dutch- Of course. Again, good work on the stagecoach. Grace- Honestly it was nothing. Dutch- Not at all. You... You are becoming a fine member of this group. We're lucky to have you here...I'm lucky to have you here. Grace- Dutch- Dutch- I'll say no more. Just know that... you mean a lot to me. Grace- (she forces a slight smile) Goodnight Dutch. Dutch- Goodnight, Miss. Holden. She walks away and Dutch notices Arthur watching. He says nothing, but smiles and walks away back to his tent.

Several weeks pass in camp. Various jobs here and there, and the camp seems in good spirits for the most part. Grace is spending more and more time in the camp, rarely hunting. She has kept her distance from both Dutch and Arthur and spends time helping around camp but has also starting crafting jewellery and trinkets from animal parts such as teeth and claws.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon.

Arthur finds Grace sitting on the outskirts of camp working away on one of her necklaces. Arthur- Grace? Grace- Hey, Arthur. Arthur- You're quite hard to find these days. Grace- Just keeping myself out of trouble. Arthur- Well, I brought you some alligator teeth. Sadie said you were collecting them, or something? Grace- Oh, thank you. Arthur- So, what you doing with them? Grace- Sounds crazy but there's a bit of market for selling things like this in Saint Denis. Lots of rich folk who'll buy anything if you tell them it will bring them more money or improve their love life. Arthur- Sounds like I could do with one of those! Grace- (she smiles at him) Well...maybe I'll make you one sometime. Arthur- Well thank you. (he turns to leave) Grace- Arthur? (he turns back to face her) I was thinking about heading out to do some fishing sometime. Kieran said he found a pretty sweet spot around the cove from here. It's never really been my forte so I was wondering if you'd be up to giving me a few pointers sometime? Arthur- Well I'm not much of a fisherman, really. Javier is the one you should speak to. Grace- Oh. Ok. He goes to leave again but then catches on and turns back around. Arthur- But I've got some time now if you're not busy? We can just fish here, I can should you what I know? Grace- That would be great, thank you. Grace packs up her things and meets Arthur down on the dock in camp as he teaches her to fish, but this doesn't go unnoticed as Dutch is watching them.

Over the next few days  Arthur and Grace rekindle their friendship. Even heading out to the cove Kieran had mentioned and catching plenty of fish.

Clements Point Camp, Evening.

That evening a few of the gang are around the camp fire; with songs and drinking the mood is jovial. After a while the group starts to break up as they prepare for bed leaving Arthur and Grace sat alone by the fire chatting.

Grace- I keep forgetting but I have something for you. Arthur- Oh yeah? What is it? Grace- Here. (She pulls out a talisman necklace and hands it to him.) Arthur- Hey, you finally made me one. Grace- No, actually, this one's different. This is an Indian talisman. It's made from wolf's teeth. It was given to me when I'd finally proven myself to be loyal to the tribe I was with. Arthur- What did you have to do; hunt down the wolves?! Grace- (she smiles) No. But the point is, it's supposed to offer protection to who wears it. I know you've got your guns to do that but with everything the way it is I figure a little extra doesn't hurt. Arthur- Well, thank you. But what about you? Grace- Oh I think I'm well enough protected. (They look at eachother and smile.)

Arthur- I feel like I keep learning new things about you every time we speak. Grace- (She smiles and stands up.) I guess I better get to sleep. Arthur- Sure. Goodnight... Grace. Grace- Goodnight, Arthur. As she walks away she notices Dutch standing with Micah, he's been watching them both the whole time. She stops and turns back to Arthur. Grace- And Arthur? You know you should never go hunting the wolves. Arthur- Why not? Grace- Because the wolves will hunt you.

Her face is serious and concerned but she forces a flicker of a smile and walks away. Arthur can now see that Dutch is watching but before he can think too much Charles comes over and sits next to Arthur. Charles- So have you told her you love her yet? Arthur- What? No. I mean after everything that's happened she... She doesn't... Charles- (he laughs and shakes his head) Oh Arthur. They both look over to see Dutch trying to talk to Grace as she makes her excuses and walks away. Charles- Honestly, if you care about her, you shouldn't wait to tell her. You never know what might happen.

Clements Point Camp by the dock, later that night.

Everyone is asleep as Grace is sat alone down by the dock. Arthur sees her and wanders over. Arthur- Thought you'd gone to bed? Grace- Oh, I couldn't sleep. Arthur- You want some company? Grace- Sure. (he sits with her) Arthur- We caught some good fish earlier. Grace- Yeah we did. Pearson's happy he's cooking something other than deer for once. Arthur- Oh I'm sure he'll find some reason to complain about it though. Grace- More than likely. The conversation is so stilted and awkward. Neither really knowing what to say.

Arthur- I've enjoyed our fishing trips together. It's...been nice, spending time with you again. Grace- It has. I've missed you, Arthur...but... I need to tell you something- Arthur- I need to say something too, Grace. I think... Well I know, I should have said it sooner. I mean I'm not exactly great with talking and it's complicated, I guess... Grace- Arthur... Dutch- Arthur! The moment is broken as Dutch walks over Dutch- Sorry to interrupt, Miss Holden but I need to speak to Arthur. Grace- (flustered by the sudden intrusion.)  Of course, it's already late. Arthur, we can talk tomorrow? Arthur- (through gritted teeth.) Sure. What is it Dutch? Dutch- That train we've been planning to hit, Micah says it's coming through tomorrow night. We need to go over the plan and make sure we're ready. Arthur- And this couldn't have waited til the morning? Dutch- I'm sorry, Arthur, did you have more pressing matters to deal with? Arthur stares at Dutch for a moment, weighing up his reactions, he sighs and shakes his head. Arthur- No. Dutch- Good, come on then, Micah's waiting. They head into Dutchs tent, Arthur reluctant and heavy hearted.

The Train Tracks, late evening.

Everyone is in place ready to stop and rob the train travelling with very wealthy passengers. Arthur, John, Charles and Sean are with the oil wagon on the tracks. Dutch and Grace are dressed up riding as passengers on board the train. The train stops as planned and they all begin to rob the  passengers.

But things don't quite go to plan as the law seems more than ready for them. Whilst they try to fight, they realise they are more than outnumbered and all start running. They spot a barn in the distance and head towards it, Grace falls behind and is pursued by a loan gunmen who shoots her in the leg. She falls down but manages to shoot him dead before he can finish the job. The rest of the gang are almost at the barn when Charles realises Grace isn't with them. He turns and sees her far behind them on the ground and races back. Grace rips her petticoat and ties up the bullet wound in her leg just as Charles gets to her. He helps her up and they run to the barn to hide with the others. Arthur- Are you ok? Were you hit? Grace- No, I'm fine. I just fell. John- Anyone still following? Grace- No that guy was the last of them. Charles- (looking through a crack in the barn) We've got a problem. Someone from in the house. They peak out and notice a man with a gun coming out of the house and towards the barn. Sean- What do we do now? John- He's only one man... Grace who is still looking notices the man on the veranda but now with a woman, and two children standing in the doorway. Grace- No, there's a whole family there. They might not have seen us all come in. You all climb up there, Charles and I will remove the ladder and stay here. The men move to the top level of the barn, and after removing the ladder Grace and Charles hide. The old man appears at the barn doors ready to shoot. Man- I know you're in here, there's no point in hiding. Grace slowly emerges from her hiding place with her hands up. Grace- (begging and weak) Please, sir. Please don't shoot. Man- What the hell are you doing in here and where's the other one I saw. Grace indicates to Charles to come out. Charles- We don't mean any harm, sir. Man- I heard gunfire. You running from the law? Grace- No, not at all. That... That was my uncle. He was crazy and furious with us... We... We're in love and we needed to run away. The man's wife arrives behind him. Woman- What on earth is going on? Man- These kids say they're running away together. But I don't know if I believe them, heard gunfire an' all. Grace- Please, we're not hurting anyone At that moment, on the upper level Sean knocks against something making a noise. The man raises his gun aggressively and walks towards them.

Man- Are you lying? Is there someone else in here? Grace- No, no there isn't, I swear. Please! (Grace looks to the wife.) I... I'm pregnant. Man- What? Grace- I'm pregnant. It's... It's why we had to run away. Please, please don't hurt us! Both the man and woman's attitudes change immediately and the man lowers his gun. Woman- Well, I guess we can't have you sleeping out here, can we. Man- No...I guess not, but we ain't no charity, it's just for tonight. But I'll be damned if I let a pregnant woman sleep out in a barn. Charles- Thank you, both. Grace and Charles follow the Man and Woman into the house, leaving the rest of the gang stuck on the top level of the barn. Sean- Well this is bloody great! So we have to stay up here whilst they get wined and dined. Arthur- Don't be such an idiot, we'd be in trouble if they hadn't believed all that. John- It's too high to risk jumping down but we might have to try if they don't manage to get the ladder back. An hour or so passes and John sees Charles climbing out of a window and down a trellis on the house. He gets to the barn and puts the ladder back in place. Sean- Am I glad to see you, I didn't think you were ever coming back. Dutch – Are you and Grace ok? Charles- We're fine. Nice family. They've said we can stay the night but we'll try and leave as soon as we can. John - I honestly can't believe that worked! Dutch- Of course it did. No one resists the helpless plea of a pregnant woman. It's the perfect lie for sympathy. Charles- That may be, but its not a lie. Arthur- What you on about, Charles?

Charles- Grace. She is pregnant. Hosea's been making some remedies for the sickness. Arthur- Jesus. Charles-I better get back before they realise I'm missing. We'll get back to camp as soon as we can. He leaves Sean- (looking at Arthur) Pregnant? Wonder what that's all about eh, Arthur? Arthur- We need to get back to camp. Dutch- We need to speak to Hosea. John- Come on let's go, it's gonna take a while on foot.

Clements Point Camp, Early morning, the next day.

By the time they get back it's nearly light. Arthur and Dutch storm to see Hosea who is sitting reading the paper at the table. Arthur- Hosea, what the hell is going on. Hosea- And good morning to you both, gentlemen. Dutch- Don't play coy, Hosea. We know about Grace. Hosea- Oh dear, I was afraid we couldn't keep this secret for too much longer. Dutch- Why didn't you say something? Hosea- Because it wasn't for me to say. Arthur- Well you told Charles. Hosea- I needed some supplies! Arthur- Dammit, Hosea! Dutch- How long has she been coming to see you? Hosea- I don't know. A few weeks now, I guess but of course she could have been pregnant for longer. Dutch- How much longer? Hosea- I don't know.

Arthur- Wait... why does it matter how long she... (Arthur's face drops with realisation) You... Dutch- Arthur... Arthur- You!... Hosea- Gentlemen! Arthur realises most of the camp is now watching. He pushes Dutch away slightly with a roar. Dutch- Where are you going Arthur? Arthur- Somewhere I can't shoot you from!!! Arthur gets on his horse and rides away. Dutch- (to everyone else) – Well, don't you all have things to be getting on with!! He heads back to his tent to be alone.

Clements Point Camp, Afternoon, later that day.

Charles and Grace have finally made their way back to the camp and as they arrive they notice everyone watching them, all now aware of what's been going on. Grace- (To Charles) Well... I guess my secret's no longer secret. Grace manages to stay away from everyone for the rest of the day, until Sadie finds her late that evening right on the outskirts of the camp and persuades her to come back. As they're walking back Dutch stops them both. Dutch- Sadie, would you ask Ms. Grimshaw and the girls to sort out some hot water for Miss. Holden in my tent please. Sadie- Of course, Mr. Van der Linde. (She leaves.) Dutch- (to Grace) Why don't we find somewhere to sit and wait. Grace reluctantly agrees and they head to the scout camp to wait. Dutch- You really didn't have to keep this a secret you know. Grace- I know, and I'm sorry I should have told you sooner. Dutch- I spoke with Hosea. He... He says he's not sure how long it's been... She doesn't answer.

Dutch- It's Arthur's isn't it. Grace- Dutch, I'm so sorry. I know how much it would have meant to you- Dutch- There is absolutely no need to be sorry. Grace- I feel like I've betrayed you- Dutch- No, not at all. You are incredibly loyal, and I am proud to have you here. But perhaps, no more secrets from now on? Grace- Of course. Dutch- (he holds her tight.) I'm sure that water is warm by now. You can get cleaned up and I'd like to offer you my tent for tonight, we can hardly have you sleeping on the floor. Grace- Thank you...for everything. They go to Dutch's tent, Susan has just finished, she smiles and leaves. Dutch- I'll be outside if you need anything. She starts to undress her top half, she has several bruises and cuts on her back, he watches her for a second, sighs and closes the tent.

Clements Point Camp, Early morning, the next day.

Arthur arrives back at camp looking worse for wear and is still a little drunk. Kieran is awake and cleaning the table. Members of the camp are stirring. Arthur- O'Driscoll. You seen Grace? Kieran- Arthur! Uh... Arthur- Come on boy where is she? Kieran hesitates as someone else now walks over and he glances nervously to Dutch's tent. Kieran- She's uh... Arthur- Get outta my way. He pushes Kieran out of the way and storms over to Dutch's tent where he sees Grace asleep in his bed. He looks around for Dutch and sees him down by the lake. Kieran is stuttering around panicked, and trying to wake people. People are now getting up and see Arthur storm off. Dutch turns just as Arthur reaches him. Dutch- Arthur- Arthur- You son of a bitch.

Dutch- You remember who you're talking to! Arthur- And who am I talking to, Dutch? You think you're so damned important, so above anyone else that you can just take whatever you want without thinking of anyone else but yourself? Dutch- Grace? I didn't take her, she CAME to me. She came to me because you weren't here! Arthur- No, you were always there, sneaking your way in behind my back. Actually you didn't even have the decency to do it behind my back! Dutch- You're being ridiculous. Arthur- It doesn't matter now does it. You won! Dutch- Won? It's not a game, Arthur! I love her. Arthur- So do I! Dutch- Oh yes, so great a love it must be. Such a fine MAN you must be that you can't even tell her that! Arthur, without thinking pushes Dutch, who falls to the ground. Dutch starts laughing and looks at Arthur. Arthur- What is wrong with you?!

Dutch- (he stops laughing and looks up at Arthur, almost sad) It's yours, Arthur. The baby is yours. Arthur- What? Dutch- Grace told me. But as usual you ran away. It's probably for the best she came to me. What kind of father would you be anyway. Arthur completely snaps and pulls Dutch to his feet in a rage, ready to beat him as Grace shouts out. Arthur turns around to see Grace. As she'd hurried out of Dutch's tent she banged the stitched up bullet wound which  reopened. Her dress now soaked in blood, she calls out Arthur's name before dropping to the floor.

Dutch and Arthur run over and shout for Hosea. They roll her over and see the blood. Arthur- Is it the baby? Dutch- Hosea!!!! Hosea runs over to them. Arthur- Is it the baby? Hosea- I'm not sure, I don't think so... Hosea moves Graces skirt to reveal the split open bullet wound. Arthur- What the... Hosea- It...it looks like...a bullet wound? Arthur- (shaking her to consciousness) Grace...hey, Grace, what... what happened? Grace- The other night...after the train, I got hit before we got to the barn...I stitched it up...to go...to the doctor... Hosea- Did you get the bullet out? Grace-I couldn't.... It was too...deep. Hosea-We need to get her to the doctor straight away. Dutch-Rhodes isn't that far. Hosea- There isn't a proper doctor there, we need to get her to Saint Denis. Dutch-Will she make it that far? Arthur- She'll make it. Come on, Grace. (He picks her up) Dutch- Hosea ride in the back with Arthur. Charles with me upfront. They get into the wagon and race to Saint Denis.

Saint Denis, Doctors Office, Late Afternoon, later that day.

Arthur and Dutch are waiting in a corridor as the Doctor approaches. Doctor- Are you the gentlemen who brought Miss. Holden in? Arthur- Yes, we are. How is she? Doctor- She's going to be ok, got her here just in time, I'd say.

Dutch- And the baby? Doctor- No, I'm afraid not. Arthur- Can we see her? Doctor- Of course. She was asking to see someone called Arthur earlier; I presume that's one of you? Arthur- That's me. Doctor- Ah then follow me. He leads Arthur to the room where Grace is.

Arthur- Grace... Grace- Arthur...I'm glad you're still here. Arthur- I...Why on earth didn't you tell us about- Grace- The baby? Honestly can you even imagine, with everything that's going on right now... Arthur- Abigail had Jack... Grace- Things were pretty different back then so I'm told. But now, since Blackwater, it's different and it's not safe. I'd have been sent out of the camp. Arthur- Dutch wouldn't let that happen. You could walk up right up to him and shoot him in the chest and he'd still welcome you back with open arms. He loves you. .. Well...we all do... Grace- I'm not so sure everyone does... (Arthur avoids her eyes) I've caused a lot of trouble. Dutch walks into the room Dutch- Not at all. You just work on getting better and we'll get you back to camp as soon as we can. Grace- Thank you... Both....thank you. Dutch smiles and walks out, Arthur goes to follow. Grace- Arthur.... the baby... It was... Arthur- I know. But I guess that doesn't matter now. Grace-No. I guess not. Arthur- We'll see you soon, Grace.

Clements Point Camp, Afternoon, A few days later.

After a few days resting in Saint Denis, Grace is back at the camp. Although there are no ill feelings towards her, she doesn't feel settled knowing how much trouble she's caused. Dutch, however doesn't seem to notice and is doing everything he can to make sure she is ok.

Dutch- And you're sure there's nothing else you need? Grace- (she forces a grateful smile) No, honestly Mr. Van der Linde I'm fine and I promise I'll be back to helping out here and back out hunting in no time. Dutch- Well you take it easy till you're completely back to health. And if you need anything you just come straight to me, ok? Grace- I will, thank you. Dutch- You are more than welcome, my dear. Grace walks away smiling as Arthur approaches, annoyed by Dutch's behaviour towards Grace.

Arthur- Back on the old Dutch charm I see... Dutch- Not this again, Arthur; do you have a problem with my looking after Miss Holden? Arthur- I guess that depends, Dutch. What exactly are you planning? Dutch- Arthur, I don't expect you to understand someone's true value. Arthur- Value? What is she now, some kind of possession to be owned? Dutch- She's valuable, Arthur. To me. I saw her worth long before you ever opened your eyes. Arthur- Hasn't she been through enough? Dutch- And whose fault is that? Arthur- You're blaming this all on me? Do you really think she's gonna want anything to do, with either of us after everything that's happened? Dutch- I guess we'll see won't we.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon, later that day.

Grace, troubled by what she heard speaks to Karen and Sadie about it all.

Karen- Well, I certainly wouldn't mind having two men fighting over me. God knows I could use the excitement! Grace- It's not like that though, I feel like a prize cow having two bulls butting horns over me. It's not fair to the rest of the camp to have this going on. I...I think I should leave. Sadie- Now don't say that. There's a lot going on for everybody right now. And all this, well I'm sure it will all die down soon enough. Grace- I really hope you're right.

Clements Point Camp, Midnight.

Grace has quietly packed up all her belongings, and is sneaking out of the camp with her horse, but someone in the shadows is watching. Micah- And where are you off to? Grace- Micah! I... Micah- Got a lotta stuff there. Looks to me like you're leaving. Grace- I...am. Micah- (he goes back to sharpening his knife) I see. For good? Grace- I think it's best.

Micah- Well far be it from me to get involved. I mean... I've seen them disagree on a lot of things but I ain't ever seen them hatin' each other quite like this. You really got under their skin. Grace- I know. It's why I've got to go. Micah- Well...good luck to you. Grace- You wont tell anyone you saw me will you? Micah- Not at all. Your secret's safe with me. Grace- Thanks, Micah. Grace gets on her horse and rides out of camp. Micah sits, sharpening his knife with a sickening grin on his face.

Clements Point Camp, Midday, the next day.

Dutch is asking around the camp for Grace, concerned as Arthur is also nowhere to be found. He eventually opens her tent to find all her belongings gone. Dutch- Ms. Grimshaw have you seen Miss. Holden? Ms. Grimshaw- No, not since last night. Why what's the matter? Dutch- She's gone. All of her things too. She's just gone. Karen- (overhearing and walking over) Oh my. She really did it. Ms. Grimshaw- Karen what on earth are you chattering about? Karen- Well...she said yesterday she thought it would be best if she left. She couldn't stand everything going on with....well with Dutch and Arthur...you know, fighting all the time. Dutch- (shouting to Lenny) Who was on guard last night? Lenny- Micah was, I think. Dutch- Well where on earth is he? Lenny- I don't know. He left early this morning said he had some business to sort out, didn't say where. Charles has now come over concerned with Grace's disappearance. Charles- He could be anywhere. Dutch- She could be anywhere! Charles, Lenny head out to Rhodes see if anyone saw her passing through. Lenny- Sure. Before they get to their horses Arthur rides back into camp. Arthur- What's all the commotion about? Charles- Grace. She's gone. Lenny- And Micah too. Arthur- (he laughs) What they run off together? Lenny- No Grace left last night. Taken all her things. Karen said she had been talking about getting away from the camp. Arthur- What? Karen why the hell didn't you say something?!

Karen-I didn't know she was going to do it! She was just talking. Arthur- So wait, what's Micah got to do with all this? Charles- Micah was on guard last night he must have seen her leave. But he's gone off somewhere, no one knows where he is. Dutch asked us to head to Rhodes see if she came through that way incase anyone saw her. Arthur looks over and sees Dutch watching them all. Arthur- Fine, I'll come too.

Rhodes, Afternoon, later that day.

They get to Rhodes and ask around. It seems someone did see her; she was buying supplies and mentioned that she might head to Van Horn. Arthur- Look it's pointless us all going. You both head back to camp, I'll head out and see if I can find her. Lenny- Ok, but what do we tell Dutch? Arthur- Tell him.... Tell him I'm going to sort this mess out once and for all. Charles- Just be careful, Arthur. They separate with Arthur riding towards Van Horn.

Van Horn Saloon, Later that evening.

Arthur trudges into the bar, it's late and he looks weary. Arthur- (to the bartender) Hey, I'm looking for someone. Woman, dark hair, new around here.. Maybe looking for work? Bartender- Hmm, there was a girl here this morning. Don't know where she ended up though. You could try the hotel on the pier. Arthur- Thanks

Arthur heads to the hotel and walks upstairs. As he gets closer to the rooms, he can hear raised voices and commotion. He gets to the door and recognises Grace's voice. Grace- Gentlemen, I've asked you nicely now I'm telling you, leave me the hell alone! Man 2- Come on we just want to have a little fun. Grace- And I told you, I'm not here for that. Man 1- I don't really think you have a choice. The sound of something breaking causes Arthur to kick in the door to see two men and Grace. One of the men has Grace pushed up against the wall with his hand around her throat. Man 1- (looking at Arthur) This one joining in too? Grace kicks him and he hits her across the face causing her to fall to the floor. Arthur heads straight in lays a punch on the first guy who runs straight out. The one who hit Grace, is more than ready for a fight. Eventually Arthur gets the upper hand and is ready to beat the guy to death til Grace's voice breaks his rage and he stops.

Grace- Arthur! Stop! Arthur- (he looks at her and then drops the man). Get out of here! The man lurches to a stand and runs out. Arthur looks to Grace. Arthur- Looks like I got here just in time. Grace- I was handling it Arthur- Yeah you were definitely doing fine by yourself . Grace- I don't need you to save me, Mr. Morgan. Arthur- So it's Mr. Morgan now? Look stop being stubborn and let me take you home. Grace- Are you deaf as well as stupid? I told you I don't need you.

Arthur- You need something! (he sighs and calms down) Look just come home. Grace- Home to what? Arthur- To everyone. Grace- So I can watch you and Dutch at each other all the time! Arthur- It's not gonna be like that anymore. Grace- No you're right, it wont be like that because I won't be there. I have caused enough trouble, (she pauses) and I have no reasons to come back. Arthur- You have plenty of reasons! Grace- Do I?! Give me one reason, Arthur. They stare at eachother. Her stare is challenging and piercing. He breathes heavy, as she stares back. It exhausts him but like a man challenged in a duel he finally draws. Arthur- Why do you women always make every thing so god damn complicated!!Grace, with everything like it is right now,  I'm having trouble keeping my wits about me as it is. There just doesn't feel like there's time for anything else and no matter what's happened I made a promise to Dutch, to everyone, to see this through til the end. Grace- I know all that, Arthur. But why is it too ‘complicated' for us to do that together? I was never asking for us to leave everything behind and ride off into the sunset. I know what this life is and I don't care where or when it ends. I wanted to see it through too but I wanted to see it through with you! Arthur- Why the hell would you wanna do that? I have nothing. I am nothing!

Grace- Well then I love nothing because I love you, Arthur Morgan. I love you! Arthur- And I love you! Grace- Then perhaps, you could stop making it so damn hard for us to be together? Arthur- You're the one who ran off! She glares at him, but then softens. He pauses for a moment and his voice quietens. Arthur- Look, I- Grace- If you say it's gonna be complicated one more time- Arthur- I was gonna say, I'll try.... You and me... I guess we could try something. Grace- (a little taken back) Well...I...I guess that's a good start. Arthur- But, you have to understand I can't leave. Not the gang, nor Dutch, I was gonna before- Grace- Arthur, stop. (reassuringly) I'm not going to ask you to leave. Not now. Not ever. Not for anything. Arthur- (he moves to sit down on the bed) It just, it doesn't seem like a life for a family. I look at Abigail with Jack and John when he's there. It just doesn't seem right. They deserve more. You deserve more. You're too good for all this. You're a good woman, Grace. Grace- Arthur, I don't know where you got this idea that I'm a good person, I might have a good background but it's not the same thing. I've made my choices and I'm here. Arthur- And this is the life that you want? With me? Grace- What other life is there? Swanning around in some big house somewhere, pretending I'm somebody important? Someone 'good'? I don't want to spend my life pretending to be something I'm not and you shouldn't either.

Arthur- But all this, running jobs, running away, all in the name of some big plan that Dutch has set out for us? Grace- Dutch is a good man. Arthur- Oh I know, I mean, I trust him with my life. But where does it end? Getting killed on a job or by bounty hunters or the pinkertons catching up with us one day? Grace - It doesn't matter how it ends. We're all gonna die some day, Arthur, every damn one of us; but I'm not afraid of it. I know what's coming to me, I made my peace with that a long, long time ago. Arthur- What do you mean? Grace- (she pauses, for a moment, wondering whether to tell him) When I was a kid, I shot the guy who killed my parents. One of them anyway. And my Aunt and Uncle who eventually took me in... let's just say they did some truly awful things to me and one day...well I knew that just had to stop. But I didn't feel a thing.  Not at all. And god knows I've killed people for a lot less good reasons since then. Arthur- I've lost count of the men I've killed. Mostly in the name of something that I'm not sure I believe in anymore. Grace- You still believe or you wouldn't be here. Arthur- I know. But do you think a person can ever change? Do good, be a better man and that it then means something? Grace- Maybe, if your heart is really true, I guess, if you really want to change. But I think it'll take more than a little redemption to stop the devil catching up with me. Arthur- Well I guess that's me done then. Grace- (she takes his hand.) Listen, none of that matters. What's here and now, that's what matters. Arthur you just...You just keep going til the end. Whatever that may be. Arthur- I guess I should marry you before we all end up dead. Grace- Marry me, huh?! Arthur- (he realises what he's said and looks at her.) I... Grace- I've seen you face hundreds of men with guns before but I have never seen you look so scared! (she laughs it off.) Come on. I haven't exactly unpacked.  I'll just grab my things and we should get out of here. She heads to the chest and grabs her things when she turns around she notices Arthur hasn't moved from the bed.

Grace- Arthur? Are you ok? He's looking down at something in his hand. His thoughts broken by her voice he looks up at her. Grace- Arthur? Arthur- I was thinking... Grace- I told you before, you need to stop doing that. Arthur- (he holds out a ring) Will you.... marry me? . Grace- What? Arthur- You said it, we could be dead tomorrow- Grace- It's not quite what I meant- Arthur- I mean...You're right! I have nothing. I don't even have a real ring, I have this. I don't even know where this came from, but..I have you.

Grace- Are you sure... about this? Arthur- I'm not really sure of any thing much any more, but you.... you I'm sure of. Grace-... Okay. I... guess so... Arthur- You guess? Grace- I'll marry you, ok! They both smile at one another. Arthur- I promise I'll get you another ring. Grace- Arthur, I'm marrying 'you' . If this ring is stolen, and well, we both know that it is, then it's absolutely perfect. They kiss, but the moment is broken when the men who Arthur beat up return along with several others looking for pay back. Grace and Arthur manage to fight their way out of the Van Horn hotel and ride off back towards Clements Point.

Clements Point Camp, late afternoon, the next day.

It's the next day and Arthur and Grace ride in to camp. Sadie and Charles see them arrive and head over. Sadie- Well I am glad to see you both back here together. (noticing the marks on Grace's face and neck) Are you, ok? Grace- Oh, I'm fine, I...got myself into some trouble, but Arthur turned up just in time. Sadie- So what happened; where did you end up? Just as Grace starts to speak Micah wanders over. Micah- Well, I thought you weren't ever coming back? Grace- I wasn't but... Arthur...asked me to marry him. So here I am; I guess, back for good.

Micah- Well ain't that just lovely. Guess I better go tell Dutch the happy news! Arthur- Micah! (but he's already walked off). Damn weasel! The group has gathered around and congratulates Arthur and Grace. Charles especially giving Arthur a big hug. Arthur- Thanks, I uh... Better go speak to Dutch. Arthur leaves Grace with the group and wanders over to Dutch's tent just as Micah walks away.

Arthur- Dutch- Dutch- Micah tells me there's cause for celebration? Arthur- Yeah... I guess....look, Dutch; I didn't mean this to- Dutch- I'm not taking it personally, Arthur. Miss Holden is a fine woman. Capable of making her own decisions. And you, my son are a fine man. I'm...happy for you. Arthur- Thank you. Grace comes over. Dutch- I'm happy for you both. (he forces a smile) Grace- Arthur can I speak to Dutch alone for a minute please? Arthur- Sure. Arthur walks away a little reluctantly. Grace and Dutch look at eachother for a moment neither sure what to say. Dutch finally breaks the silence. Dutch- Well, I never thought you to be the marrying type, Miss Holden. Grace- Neither did I, but...Arthur is a good man. Dutch- He is. And you... love... him? Grace- (she looks him right in the eyes and pauses for a moment) I do. Dutch looks away. Grace- Dutch... You need to know. I'd do anything for you. You gave me a life and I will always owe you that. No matter what, that will never change.

She kisses him on the cheek and then walks away to join the others with Arthur, who holds her tightly, a little afraid to now let go.

Clements Point Camp, Early Afternoon.

Blessed are the Peacemakers. Micah convinces Dutch to meet with the O'Driscolls for a parle to hopefully put an end to their feud. Arthur is asked to join them as a lookout in case it all goes sour. It seems, however, that there was never any intention of a truce, as Arthur is captured.After managing to escape where the O'Driscolls were holding him, he is found by Grace, who went out determined to find him. She brings him back to camp where he recovers. Ultimately she blames Dutch for letting this happen.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon, several weeks later.

Arthur is sat by the lake with Grace, he has a long hair and beard after several weeks recovering. Grace- I spoke with Reverend Swanson, he's sorted something out with the church in Rhodes. Says we can get married as soon as we like. Arthur- I'm surprised you still want to. Grace- Well I wasn't expecting you to take your "we could be dead tomorrow" speech quite so literally but... When Dutch told me that you hadn't made it back.... Well I gave him hell for it! I thought I'd lost you. So as soon as you feel up to it, I'd still like to, whilst we're both still in one piece. Maybe get you a hair cut in the mean time though.

Arthur- I was thinking of keeping it. Grace- Arthur, I always said I would never try to change you and the life you lead but get a hair cut, please! You look like you've been living in a cave. They both laugh.

Outside Rhodes Church, Midday, a few days later.

Grace and Arthur have just been married, as they step outside the sun is shining and the whole gang is there to celebrate. Sean walks out in front and then turns to face them. Sean- I still can't believe what I'm seeing. The great Arthur Morgan getting married. The world's gone mad! Arthur- I'm gonna get mad if you don't shut up!

Sean- Ah I'm only messing with you, Arthur! This is amazing. I'm so happy for you both. Grace come here and give your new brother a hug. You're definitely one of us now. Grace smiles and heads towards Sean to give him a hug as she does the crack of a bullet is heard and Sean is shot in the head. Grace's wedding dress is covered in blood as the gang scatters in panic. Dutch order's most of the gang to get back to the camp as a gun fight now ensues. Turns out the Gray's were waiting for an opportunity to hit them and they did just that. After the firefight they get Sean's body and head back to camp.

Clements Point Camp, Early evening, later that day.

As Arthur, Dutch and the rest of the gang get back to camp they discover that in the panic at the wedding someone managed to grab Jack. They suspect that the Braithwaites took him so the majority of the gang set out to bring him back. Before he leaves Arthur turns to Grace, who's still standing in her blood stained dress. Arthur- Grace I...God damn, everything has gone to hell! Grace- It's not your fault Arthur, it's not. But... but Sean? Just gone....and now Jack's been taken.

Arthur- I am so sorry. Grace- Don't be...Just go bring that boy back. Arthur- We will. For what it's worth; I love you. Grace- I love you too. Arthur saddles up and rides out with the gang towards Braithwaite manor.

And from there the story continues as it does in game. After I'd written this I did find this time to be a bit of a turning point in Dutch's behaviour – especially with him not bothering to rescue Arthur after being captured, and somewhat felt that him losing Grace to Arthur could have easily been the catalyst for him growing suspicious and unhinged.  Although there of course would be clashes with the existing RDR2 story I couldn't not write a slightly different ending (high honour, helping John, and also Grace's epilogue) so read on...

The Mountain, Night.

Arthur, Grace and John are fighting their way through along the mountain, Arthur, exhausted by it all stops to catch his breath.

John- Alright, Arthur, come on, let's go. Arthur- You go. Grace- Keep pushing, Arthur. Arthur- No... (he coughs wiping blood from his mouth) No, I think I've pushed all I can. Grace- Come on! Arthur- You go. John- We ain't got time for this, not now. Arthur- We ain't all going to make it. Go... now. I'll hold them off. Grace- Arthur. Arthur takes off his hat and places it on John's head. Arthur- It would mean a lot to me. Please. There ain't no more time for talk. Go. Go to your family. John- Arthur- Arthur- Grace... Grace- We said to the end. Arthur- This is the end. Grace- Not like this? Arthur- Like this. Grace- But, Arthur I- Arthur- I know. Grace looks at him, pain seeping into her eyes. Arthur- You get him back to his family, ok? She nods and he whispers something in her ear.

Grace- I love you. Arthur- I love you too. Now both of you, get out of here. John- You're my brother. Arthur- I know... I know. They all take one last look at eachother as Arthur clambers up the mountain and John and Grace make their escape. After Arthur's death John and Abigail wanted Grace to stay with them, but she told them she couldn't, that she wanted to head out on her own and at least try and live the life that Arthur so desperately wanted. When asking about Arthur's belongings Grace told John he should keep them, that there was only 1 thing she wanted but the rest was his. "I was only his wife. But you? You were family".  She left, and John and Abigail never heard from her again.

Grace's epilogue. Year 1914.

We see an older Grace sat on the veranda of a ranch house. It's early evening and the sun is low in the sky. A male voice is heard. Voice- Are you coming inside? Grace- (she sounds a little breathless and weak but she smiles) I'll be there in a few minutes... Arthur.

Flashback to the night Grace and John left Arthur on the mountain. Arthur- “You get him back to his family ok?”  (He whispers in her ear whilst placing his hand on her stomach) “and you look after ours.”

Back on the veranda a boy of around 15 walks over to Grace and crouches beside her.

Arthur Jr - How are you feeling? Grace - A little tired. Arthur Jr. - Ok, well don't stay out here too long. (He stands up and kisses her on the head.) Grace- I won't. I love you. Arthur Jr.- I love you too. He goes inside leaving Grace alone. Her breathing is slowing as she watches the sun sink lower in the sky. She smiles and closes her eyes. As her life fades, smile still on her face, the sun finally disappears below the horizon as her hand falls to her side letting go of what she was holding...

[knifeonmars]

Comics that mattered to me in 2018

2018 was the year I decided that I am not obligated to care about comics. I moved this year and had to get rid of a lot of stuff, including almost all of my single issues, though I was fortunate enough to be able to store my TPBs and graphic novels. Since moving I haven't had the time or space or, honestly, the inclination to get back into reading singles. It's hard to describe my feelings on the matter, it almost feels like a loss. Anyway, the point is that I did not read a lot of comics this year, and the depression probably had a lot to do with it. I did read some though, so here are a few which stuck with me.

Copra - Copra is the goddamn best, and the latest volume had a ton of moments throughout that legitimately shocked and excited me. Copra might just be my favorite comic book right now, it so cool and weird and inventive, it's honestly inspirational.

Extremity - Daniel Warren Johnson wrapped up his first creator owned series this year and I loved it. It's a rough read at times, and ends like a punch in the gut, but it's cool and energetic and the story really does have impact.

One-Punch Man Vol. 14 - I'd gotten a little tired of One-Punch Man, the first five or six volumes are still just about perfect, but I felt like the joke had run its course, and the three volumes or so of tournament arc had started to bore me. Volume 14 saw Saitama's story finally pick up again and throw out some of the weird, subtle wisdom which defines this series. Feels like it's back on track at last.

Ronin - Not a new book by any means, nor one I even read for the first time this year, but Ronin is a hell of a book. It's personal, it's layered, and it's deeply, deeply weird. It's Frank Miller's most fascinating and overlooked book, and I'm actually working on it long term for a research project, so it's been pretty significant to me this year, and likely next year as well.

The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins - TAZ is the granddaddy of the current crop of DnD podcasts, and it's damn good. I got emotionally invested in the Balance arc, but given it's length and the restrictions on my time these days I'm not likely to relisten to the whole thing any time soon, so the graphic novel adaptations are very appealing. Here There Be Gerblins adapts the first, and frankly weakest arc, but it's still damn solid, and the adaptation has served to refine things a lot, cutting out a lot of the spaghetti against the wall riffing. It does lose something, but it gains a lot more. Here's hoping they actually manage to finish adapting the entire series.

The Immortal Hulk - I haven't been reading singles, even for things which I've thought looked cool, but a couple weeks ago I finally picked up the first volume of Immortal Hulk, and boy was it worth reading. For years I've lamented how Al Ewing is an all-star writer treated like dirt by Marvel, and with Immortal Hulk he's finally getting to 1) write a major character without any sort of asterisk like it being a team book or an alternate reality, and 2) he's not getting dragged into endless crossovers, as happened with New Avengers and The Ultimates. Ewing's taking the chance to do something really interesting with the Hulk mythology and rendering it coherent in a way which I can't recall seeing before, while at the same time being totally unexpected. It's a ride, and I can't wait for more.

[atomkrp-blog]

WELCOME TO XAVIER’S, SONG HYERIN !

… loading statistics. currently aged twenty-two, entering first semester of xavier’s in seoul, south korea. decrypting files… mutant has the following records: strength +8, durability +5, agility +6, dexterity +4, intelligence +2. currently, she is classified under tier omega.

BACKGROUND.

PART ONE: THE BEGINNING.

once upon a time, a phoenix was born, risen from the ashes of a relationship gone stale, flames lapping at the child who was too bold since birth, too brash and unforgiving for her abandoned mother to handle at such a young age. a teenage pregnancy was never a good choice, people had chided patronizingly, though hyerin’s mother’s never really cared about what people had to say in the first place, did she? her golden child, a spit in the face at all those who dared claim that her daughter was anything otherwise, even without the tell-tale father who had left the two even before she was born.

and so the phoenix grew older, still ever the charred and outspoken one, taking her classmates and everyone in between in such stride that no one could ever catch up to the girl on eternal fire. song hyerin, the child of the sole teenage parent of their small suburbia in karlsruhe, but still the sharpest of them all; stupidity seemed like such a menial option to grow under the woman who had gone through too much to raise her. in turn, hyerin vowed protection, and so came the staggered lessons of brute force — most wouldn’t dare assume such a pretty face as hers could shoot a gun or throw a punch as well as she could ace a multitude of tests at once; she’d easily prove them all wrong.

her name turns into a definition of something rare and unforgiving, blazing a trail in her way wherever she went. and so one year turns into two, and multiplies in fortitude. grade school comes and goes in a breeze, extracurriculars are what keeps her going. she picks up boxing and sharpshooting as a hobby as soon as her mother has enough to spoil her, and the two are happy, happier than they’ve ever been.

( karlsruhe continues to be kind to them — so far. )

PART TWO: INTERLUDE.

there’s a call from home. not the home hyerin has grown to know,  karlsruhe with its german speaking inhabitants and large and spaced grandeur, but where her roots show. seoul, south korea, where her mother ( and presumed father ) was born, the heart of hustle and bustle, bumping shoulders and other korean people who actually might look a bit like her. it’s not the language she’s worried about, no; such a thing is the least of her worries when her mother was so keen and adamant on teaching her ever since she was young. it’s the environ she’s afraid of, with its smog-filled cities and harsh glares. but then again, a sixteen-year-old hyerin can’t do much when it’s her mother than answers and accepts the call of a new start, and who is she to regret anything as of now?

touchdown in seoul, and no one is there to warmly greet the duo ( as expected ). life starts in the most mundane of ways, with her mother starting her new job at the new company, hyerin at her new school. turns out the star student is less of a star here, which bothers her none; hyerin simply tries much, much harder. but of course, her looks stay as stellar as always — a bright smile here and a coy wink there, and she’s finding her way around campus much easier, learns all the gossip, but it’s one flitted rumor that changes her life.  

they speak of a boy who can play with fire without getting his fingers ( or anything else, for that matter ) burned about halfway into the school year, and hyerin is all ears. of course it’s a baseless rumor, she thinks, but perhaps it would be interesting enough to see someone being so steadfast as to actually incinerate his fingers off, what a sight to see!  

hours after school does the incident happen, and she remembers the event like clockwork. a high five, that’s all it took — ten minutes before he was supposed to douse himself in lighter fluid and step into a fucking bonfire — for the boy to do just that: step into a bonfire in lighter fluid, but he stays burning, despite those high and mighty words that he wouldn’t.

and he screams. chaos ensues, though lucky for him, there’s still enough time to extinguish him ( who would have known what would have happened if not for emergency precautions, what a mess ) as he continues to screech for bloody murder. and as soon as it’s all over, he wheels on her with murder in his eyes, and hyerin has no idea what she’s done. it’s too late to even think however, because the next thing she knows, there’s a rough hand gripping against her throat, darkness coating her visage.

( she stays gone for a while, a long while. )

PART THREE: ROOTS.

she wakes up to unfamiliarity, discord in her thoughts. her expectations of stark white walls and a steady iv drip at a hospital environment are replaced with an oddly discolored wallpaper and a soft bed, nothing familiar other than a dull headache pinging steadily into her temples. her mother is the first person she seeks, another woman — unfamiliar at best — looming by her bedside is who she finds instead.

and so the unknown one explains the extent of hyerin powers — ‘powers’ said in the absolute lightest term — powers rather as in, what is not. negation is what she supposedly has; the nullification of others’, which explains the fire situation and the lack of extinguishment so well, the fact that she almost killed someone is the only thing that is left to simmer in her mind. and it’s no surprise she had no idea she had such an ability; surrounded by a bunch of humans that had none at all were useless to her, but what is to become of her now?

the newest freak show, that’s what she’s been dumbed down to. and now, lo and behold: said freak show placed in an academy with a bunch of other freaks — or was it ‘mutants’ that they called themselves? — who absolutely hated the very ability that had her grouped in the same stupid category that they were all in. the one girl who would take away whatever it was that made them special, a recipe for hate brewing in all their veins, curse her uselessness, a feeling that’s never been felt by song hyerin before.

and so ends the phoenix’s reign, simmered into nothing but a pile of hateful ash at the bottom of everything, missing only one person from her life.

( she’ll escape from here soon enough anyways, she swears on it. )

MUTATION.

power negation is the strata of power that is fully able to nullify those abilities of others, usually for an extended amount of time. the user is able to cancel out the powers of those around themselves, making them unable to utilize their powers so long as they are under the user’s effect.

hyerin’s ability, as she has newly manifested her powers, has the potential to be a complete hazard to those others currently attending the academy who require their powers to properly function. she  has virtually little to no control over her abilities, meaning that a simple graze has enough power to completely nullify a person’s ability for a duration from five minutes to almost five hours, depending on her current mood and health. the nullification can be activated through simple touch, or any form of skin-to-skin contact, though it is usually propelled from her hands or arms.   she is virtually immune to all, if not most powers that require close proximities or any sort of possession if the wielder is to be in her vicinity. her power is completely based on emotions; even without skin-to-skin contact, if feeling highly on-end and agitated, she may unknowingly create a negation barrier that may effect everyone around her for an extended duration of time in a ten-foot maximum radius around her. a calmer and more sober mood only limits her powers to those who have been in actual physical contact with her, as is the usual case when she is alone or in personal quarantine. even the slightest spike in temper or mood may be a potential danger to those around her, especially because she has no idea on how her powers work just yet. her radius is still small and limited, but as small as they are, may drain her on more than one occasion; oversleeping (in a rather comatose state) is not uncommon, as is the occasional bloody nose and splitting migraines that recur more often than not. the more stressors that are inflicted on her body, the weaker she and her power become, and due to that very reason, proper contact with many people at once is not highly recommended.

STRENGTHS.

barrier negation: unconsciously, the user has a force field around them in which superpowers are canceled in its vicinity. in hyerin’s case, it is uncontrollable and happens when in high-stress situations, which may either be both beneficial and detrimental in her experience. 

because her ability is something that does not enhance her physically, she holds her strength in being able to fight and hold her ground in hand-to-hand combat rather than having to rely on special abilities like others may expect.

if another person is under the control of a power such as transmutation, she may able to negate the physical form they are afflicted by. 

WEAKNESSES.

constantly active, and uncontrollable in hyerin’s case. this accounts for constant fatigue, as any sort of use of her powers is rather debilitating to her physical health due to its unknown levels of control, and therefore power.  

hyerin has a very limited range of her negation field, where touch is the most effective and long-lasting. the field that she emits is weaker around the edges, and anyone in her field will know and feel the dampening, effectively rendering her ability useless when people can recharge outside of her station. 

unlike power erasure, effects are mostly temporary at most. she has never been known to be rid of a person’s powers for longer than thirty minutes at a time when taking into account the initial contact. later, with more practice and intellect into the ability itself, the time may increase to longer hours, but at the expense of her physical health. 

if a person’s power is attributed to their physical qualities, hyerin virtually has no power against them. she cannot simply make one’s cellular biology deplete, so if someone is enhanced with some sort of physiology she cannot just make the attributes disappear off a person’s body. 

some powers may not be negated, such as negation immunity and power anchoring, as well as those abilities that have been acquired or copied (i.e. if someone had ‘stolen’ the ability of fire manipulation, she cannot dampen the effects of fire manipulation, but only prevent the person from thieving against an ability again). 

power negation only has the ability to negate those powers past “normal” abilities. it is ineffective against those who do not use supernatural abilities in combat, or are naturally physically gifted. 

[damijon-supersons]

Are you still taking prompts? Damian and Jon playing Mario Kart or whatever video game you want to use.

Okay, since you said I could use any video game I want (haven’t played mario kart, sorry. Aside from Pokemon, Nintendo wasn’t part of my childhood), I’m going to use Injustice 2 XD

Also, I’m sorry anon, but I am going to hijack your prompt! I’m going to use this to express my refusal to believe that Damian will ever go back to becoming an evil character! What I noticed was, in about 4, yes FOUR different times, DC has predicted that Damian will revert back to his evil ways in some way when he grows up.  Nope, I am not having it! (Btw, the ones I’m talking about are the Injustice timeline, Damian’s battle with his illusion future self in Robin: Son of Batman, Batman Beyond Rebirth, and in Detective Comics 966)

Damian has worked too hard, has literally died and back, to prove that he has changed for the better. There is nothing that will convince me that 13 years of great character development for Damian will be thrown aside because he turns evil again in the future! Nothing! 

And you know why I’m so sure of that? Because our Damian in this main timeline right now has someone that all of those evil adult Damian timelines didn’t have…a certain boy named Jonathan Samuel Kent.

“I’m picking Robin,” Damian announced.

He placed the cursor on a portrait of a much older Damian on the screen, and then an electronic monotonous voice intoned ‘Robin’.

“Heh, that’s so like you,” Jon replied dryly. “Well, if we’re picking ourselves it’s not fair for me. I don’t know why but, I haven’t seen a single game with a Superboy on it.”

“Just pick your dad,” Damian teased. “You’re practically the same anyway, except you’re three decades lamer.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at Damian. “Shut up, this Superman isn’t my dad. This one’s like, super evil. I’m never gonna pick…‘not-dad’, he said with finality. He ended up picking Bizarro, earning him a snort from Damian.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” Jon chided Damian. “Jason said he’s actually pretty cool.”

“Todd said the same thing about your costume,” Damian casually replied.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jon asked with a raised brow.

“Just that his idea of clothing gets him thrown out of most restaurants,” Damian answered with a smirk. “But never mind that, it’s time to kick your ass!”

The boys had gotten a copy of a new fighting video game that was inexplicably based on the world’s heroes, which included renditions of most of the people that Jon and Damian knew. It had an impressive roster of intricately rendered characters like their fathers, the League, and other heroes—including weirdly out of place characters they didn’t know about like an ice ninja, a Japanese thunder god, and a red horned man with a gun.

As the game advertised, it was set in an alternate universe where Superman became an evil dictator, and the whole world decided that being dark and gritty was an essential part of a balanced diet. With equal parts amusement and curiosity, Damian and Jon had decided to play the game with little more intention than to laugh at how hilariously off the characters were compared to their real-life counterparts.

But Damian being Damian, he also played to win. And Jon being Jon, he was definitely not going to lose to Damian in anything.

The Damian in the game was much older, and as Jon put it—much to real Damian’s chagrin—a lot taller and better-looking. He also used a sword which he used in most of his attacks. The real Damian picked up on the controls quickly, and there wasn’t a single moment where game Damian wasn’t swinging his lethally sharp blade. It whistled with a shrill shwing with every strike, making it sound even more dangerous.

Unfortunately for Damian, Jon’s character, Bizarro, had ice beams that shot out from his eyes.

“Gah! You cheater…” Damian grumbled as game-Damian was interrupted from a flashy sword combo by a single ice beam. “Fighting  in a two-dimensional field is idiotic. If it were really me, I’d have sidestepped that!”

“Told you Bizarro is cool.” Jon giggled.

“I hate you and your puns!” Damian groaned. “That’s it, taste defeat, farm boy!” He executed game Damian’s special move—a sword combo with an explosive finish via batarang. It was enough to give Damian the round.

“Hah!” he pumped his fist in triumph.

Instead of looking disappointed with his loss, Jon’s cheeks were almost bursting from stifling his laughter.

“What…what’s so funny?” Damian asked as his smug smile wavered.

“Your special…” Jon began as he breathed in  to compose himself, “was to do an awkward ninja run, look really stiff while using your sword…then pose and wait for three whole seconds before your batarangs hit me.”

“That was two seconds, tops,” Damian said, completely missing the point.

Jon snorted and burst out laughing.

“Damian…your video game self was so extra, it’s like the only thing you left out was shades and shiny teeth.  You were trying way too hard to look cool.”

“Hey,” Damian protested. “It’s a decently styled—”

“The only thing that makes this even funnier is that it’s totally you,” Jon giggled heartily.

Damian frowned. He didn’t know how to retort without making it obvious that for a few seconds, he’d actually wanted to try posing like his game-self did.

The boys kept playing and trying different characters until Damian went back to playing himself. Jon chose Batman for the first time, and he noticed Damian tense up. As the story of the game went, game-Damian turned against Batman and sided with Superman. Game-Batman had readily abandoned his son in turn. Whenever the two of them would face each other in the game, they’d both spew out scathing and hateful taunts that made Damian squirm.

This time, Jon won handily, winning with Batman’s special move.

Jon blinked. “Did your game-dad just…use a bat-shaped jet to drag you in the air and blow you up with a small army’s worth of bullets and missiles…?”

Damian looked as mind-blown as Jon. “That…was the most impractical use of the Batwing I’ve ever seen.”

“That was overkill,” Jon mused.

“And that’s considering that my dad has intentionally rammed the Batwing into things in real life before,” Damian nodded.

“Hey, Damian?” Jon asked as he eyed his friend anxiously. “Are you okay? You seem kinda antsy ever since I picked your dad…”

Damian avoided looking straight into Jon’s eyes. “What do you think about how the game depicted my future?” he asked with a guarded expression.

Jon raised his eyebrows—the question took him by surprise. “It’s a video game. I don’t really care what they said you were.”

“But you thought that the Damian in the game was evil, right?” Damian continued, glancing expectantly at Jon.

“Well, I mean, everyone was sort of on this gray line—“ Jon stopped after seeing Damian’s annoyed look. “Okay, fine, I thought he was evil. The game makes it a point to make you act as unlikeable as possible anyway.”

Damian shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He sighed as if resigning himself to a cruel fate.

“That game…” Damian began, his words calm but measured.  “It’s not the first time that something predicted that I would betray my father and turn to evil in the future.”

Jon listened with rapt attention as Damian continued. He’d never seen Damian this gravely serious before.

“When I was adventuring with Maya, an artifact manifested future versions of ourselves based on the parts of ourselves that we couldn’t come to terms with. I was forced to fight an adult version of myself that was still the bloodthirsty assassin my grandfather trained. I barely survived.”

“Wow…that’s rough,” Jon said gently. He could tell that Damian was upset in a way that could not easily be dismissed.

“That’s not all,” Damian continued. “There’s…something I’ve never told you before. Drake…he created this computer program that could calculate a person’s approximate future based on their experiences and personality. On two separate instances, that program predicted that I’d turn back to my old ways—once as the new ruthless leader of the League of Assassins…

“…and another as a more tyrannical and deadly version of Batman. 

“Either way, it seems like everything agrees that my future will see me becoming the evil I’d sworn to reject.”

Damian ended with a solemn silence. He bowed his head and stared at his knees. “Do you understand why I never told you this before?” he asked Jon, who had a mixed look of confusion and concern on his face. “Knowing what I’d just told you…and what I’m destined to become, no one in their right minds would associate with me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to leave and stop talking to me.”

Jon knew that Damian wasn’t the kind of person who cried much—if at all. But the sheer cold silence that Damian was giving him was worse. It was as if Damian was deathly certain that he would leave right then and there and never come back. Damian had already accepted that Jon didn’t want to be friends with him anymore, and that he was just waiting for Jon to say so.

Jon knit his brow. Damian’s willingness to accept his dark future was frightening, to be sure. But one detail, or rather, the lack of a certain detail, tugged at his mind.

“Damian,” Jon asked carefully. “In all those futures…what happened to me?”

Damian wrinkled his nose at Jon. “Those were my futures, not yours. Why would you ever be in them?” he snapped.

“Because, dummy,” Jon retorted with a stubborn look. “Do you think I’d let any of those bad futures happen to you? Now, tell me where I was in your future, or when exactly you got those predictions. Did we even know each other already  when you got them?”

“Well I…” Damian trailed off, his eyes widening in apparent realization. “No, I suppose we hadn’t met yet when the program had made the predictions. You weren’t there yet when Maya and I were completing my atonement for the year of blood. And you and I’ve only been public as a team recently, so the game wouldn’t have put you in…”

“Then that settles it!” Jon declared ecstatically. “Damian, there’s one thing that your futures didn’t count on—the fact that we became friends!”

“What do you mean?” Damian asked with genuine curiosity.

“Damian…in the first place, I don’t believe that just because some things predict your future, you can’t decide it for yourself,” Jon explained adamantly. He was wringing his hands as if willing Damian to understand.

“I don’t care how many people say your future will get messed up—you’re a good person. You’ve fought and sacrificed so much to become who you are today. You’ve become someone that your family loves and cares about! You’re not Damian, Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandkid. You’re Robin, son of Batman.”

“And more importantly—“ Jon continued, cutting off Damian’s inevitable retort. “Dude, I’m your friend! I mean, sure, we argue sometimes, and you’re mean, and you tease me a lot…”

“Tt,” Damian clicked his tongue as if to say ‘that’s not helping’.

“But…we’re friends.” Jon waved dismissively. 

“Not just because we’re working together as superheroes, either. We’re friends because we want to be. Because I want to be. You…you get what it’s like to be a kid and a hero at the same time, I can talk to you, and we can hang out and stuff. I never tell you this but, I kinda look up to you, you know? You’re always so in control and awesome, and like a ninja and…sometimes it’s cool…”

“Are you saying you think I’m cool?” Damian smirked.

“Shut up Damian! I’m in the middle of something here!” Jon chided him. “What I’m trying to say is, whatever happens…I’ll help you find a future that’s better. I’m not gonna leave you. We’re partners, now and in any future. Your bad futures aren’t gonna happen because I’m here to make sure they don’t.” Jon flashed Damian a toothy grin.

“And if for some reason, I end up having to fight you and fulfill that dark future?” Damian asked coyly. His voice, however, had softened and relaxed.

“Then I’ll beat you, duh!” Jon emphasized. “Laser eyes beats sword, remember?” he finished by sticking his tongue out.

“You sound so sure,” Damian said as he shook his head. Whether it was in disbelief or gratitude, Jon wasn’t sure.

“Don’t worry about your future,” Jon said with a grin. He held Damian’s hands enthusiastically. Before Damian could even protest,  he was already hovering a few inches off the floor, carrying Damian with him.

“Superboy’s got your back!” Jon promised.

The corner of Damian’s lips twitched. He wasn’t in a hurry to show any kind of emotion. But what he said next was better than any sort of ‘thank you’ that he could think of.

“I know. I believe you.”

There you go, guys! Consider this fic my rebuttal against DC trying to make Damian evil as an adult! No way Jon would ever let that happen! I’m convinced that Jon would help keep Damian good if anything would ever tempt him to return to his less heroic ways. I hope this fic was okay, I was agitated when I wrote it and it might have typos and stuff :p

Also shoutout to @harljordan who let me use their awesome edit from Supersons #8 above :)

EDIT:  I couldn’t resist making this edit based on this awesome post script idea by @desolationofzara :D

BUT THIS IS WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

Edits by me, and I screencapped my game for this XD

[aion-rsa]

Boss Level Pushes Action Movie Time Loops to Their Limits

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The new action sci-fi thriller Boss Level begins with former Special Forces agent Roy Pulver (Frank Grillo) and an unnamed woman waking up in Pulver’s bed, fully clothed, after what looks like a rough night. But things get rougher very quickly, as an assassin enters Pulver’s apartment and attempts to kill him. Pulver defeats him but ends up dying anyway–only to wake up the next morning and do the whole thing again, perhaps living a little longer and getting killed by someone else, but still dying.

In a running voiceover, Pulver casually informs us that this is the 140th time he’s done this. And he still can’t figure out why or how it’s happening, or how to break out of the time loop he’s stuck in. All he knows is that he will wake up again on the very same morning and despite doing everything he can to prevent it, will nevertheless get shot or stabbed, or beheaded or run over, for reasons unknown. He also knows that his destiny is linked to that of his scientist ex-wife (Naomi Watts), the son who doesn’t know Pulver is his father (Rio Grillo) and his ex-wife’s sinister boss (Mel Gibson).

Boss Level is directed and co-written by Joe Carnahan, who revamped a script originally written by Chris and Eddie Borey. It’s the first feature film Carnahan has directed since 2015’s Stretch, and continues his exploration of taking different approaches to hardcore action and crime thrillers, a track record that includes movies like The Grey (2011), The A-Team (2010), Smokin’ Aces (2006), and Narc (2002). But Boss Level is different in that it also represents Carnahan’s first full dive into sci-fi territory.

“The Boreys wrote this really great script called Continue,” says Carnahan when we connect via Zoom. “I had read it. It started out as kind of a rewrite job. I dug it, because I’ve always loved, as I think a lot of us do, the subgenre of the time loop. It’s kind of a proven commodity in movies. As I got into it more, I was like, ‘I’m not really a sci-fi guy.’ But [late director] Tony Scott, rest his soul, was one of my great mentors. I always loved the way he treated Déjà Vu, which is a great kind of brick and mortar approach to time travel.”

Carnahan says he applied the same approach to what eventually became Boss Level, explaining, “The more fantastical elements of it, I wasn’t really concerned about. But I did love the idea of kind of combining Groundhog Day and Die Hard–the way I think that Doug Liman did it with Cruise in Edge of Tomorrow. But I thought it’d be much funnier if the guy was just bored stiff by all of it and didn’t know what the hell to do.”

The title of the movie itself is a gaming reference (the “boss level” is the final and usually most challenging level of a video game), and Carnahan admits that the narrative is set up to mirror the way a player moves through the levels of a game–sometimes repeating them over and over again.

“That was absolutely deliberate,” he says. “I’m not a huge gamer. But when I was a kid, I played all those games. And it’s funny, I play with my kids now, I have an old stand-up that’s got all these games on it. I got to load up that arcade with all my favorites, Robotron, Galaga–all these dumb games that I loved. So I built that in, but I never wanted that to overwhelm the central core of the story.”

Incredibly, Carnahan’s journey to get Boss Level made started as he was finishing up The Grey more than a decade ago. He had worked with Frank Grillo on that film (now a minor cult classic) and wanted Grillo for the part of Pulver in his time loop tale. But getting the backing to make it was an entirely different story and took 10 years, eventually employing what Carnahan describes as “not a traditional financing structure… every piece of bad luck you could encounter, we basically went through it all.”

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Boss Level is now premiering on Hulu, a result of its long, twisting road to existence, the rise of streaming outlets and the effects of the pandemic on traditional theatrical releases.

“I think the age of our traditional theatrical exhibition is done as we knew it,” says Carnahan confidently. “I think it’s going to shift in ways that people who are at the leading edge of that right now are figuring out… But I don’t think we’re going to go back to 350, 400 seats in a traditional kind of–I just don’t think you’re going to have that happening. Not for the foreseeable future.”

The future, both long term and short term, is very much at the heart of Boss Level. Grillo’s Roy Pulver begins to gradually extend his lifespan on each turn of the loop, living a little longer every go-round and discovering another piece of information that he needs to solve the puzzle he’s trapped in. But while Pulver’s life, those of his wife and son, and possibly many others are at stake, Carnahan says that first and foremost he wanted to make a bonkers action movie that pushed the genre to its limits.

“I was able to make an action movie/Three Stooges film,” he says. “So it was kind of an ideal scenario for me, because we could really go bananas and gonzo with the stuff that we were doing. But listen, you’re always looking to evolve the form. I think that we want to keep pushing it. I don’t know that you’re going to be able to do just the straight action film anymore without any kind of emotional content–without some sort of heart and soul. I think the Marvel films have done this so well, combining this big kind of spectacle action filmmaking with heart, with these small, idiosyncratic and quirky moments.”

Boss Level is the latest movie to emerge from Warparty, the production company that Carnahan and Grillo officially began in 2016. Grillo, of course, has enjoyed a long career as one of film’s most reliable tough guys, especially in movies like The Grey, End of Watch, Zero Dark Thirty, The Purge: Anarchy, and The Purge: Election Year, while also playing the villainous Brock Rumlow/Crossbones in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Carnahan says that their similar tastes and outlook is what makes the partnership work and drives their acquisition of material to produce.

“We’re always looking for kind of elevated genre stuff,” Carnahan says. “Stuff that we think we can sink our teeth into and make better than the sum of its parts, [so] that we’re not just doing an action film, or a horror film, or a thriller. We want to plus it up. Frank and I have a great ease of use. We have a great shorthand at this point. We just know how the other one’s going to move in a situation and what to expect, and so on. There’s great comfort and certainly great creative strength in that.”

With both men producing, Grillo acting and Carnahan directing or writing or both, the pair have several formidable projects coming down the pipeline. One is an English language version of the already classic 2011 Indonesian action thriller The Raid, which has yet to start filming, while the other, Copshop, is now in post-production. The latter film teams Grillo with Gerard Butler, and Carnahan promises that the sparks will fly between the two action heavyweights.

“They’re dynamite,” the director exclaims. “I’ll say right now, I don’t know that Gerry’s ever been better in a movie. That’s how good he is in Copshop. He’s dynamite, man. He’s really, really something in this film. I think people are going to kind of be blown away. And then there’s this young woman, Alexis Lauder, who’s basically the lead of the film. She’s just a movie star. She’s just absolutely captivating. And the movie is really good. I’m very proud of it and I think audiences are going to dig it.”

As for whether we’ll see Butler and Grillo go head to head in a fight sequence or two in the film, Carnahan doesn’t want to get into details but adds, “We’re not going to disappoint people.”

Right now, however, Carnahan is focused on getting the word out about Boss Level, and is not shy about what he thinks he, Grillo, and their team have accomplished with it.

“I think it’s the best action movie of the last five years,” he says. “I just think it’s awesome and it’s funny. It’s rare that you make a film where everything that movie tries to do, it succeeds at doing. I think that’s a great testament to the people involved in it and how, even when it seemed like it was born under a bad sign, we still persevered. I just think it’s a blast, and a hell of a lot of fun on a Friday or Saturday night.”

Boss Level begins streaming now on Hulu.

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