#best stealth drone to ever exist

[alitteraladhdmess]

First time I saw the cam shell from Tmnt 2003 I cried. It’s so cute and I just had to make my own version

so I bring you you (dramatic drumroll)

SHES SO CUTE I love her so much

She has her own AI and has high quality live footage directly transmitted to Donnie’s tech. She has a range of about 17 miles which is a little less than the DJI Mavic 3 Pro, the longest range drone ever built, and her body is the size of someone’s palm. +10p for cuteness

close ups under cut

[aintgonnatakethis]

⭐🌙🌌

⭐️ Star - Do you have a favourite character? If so, why are they your favourite?

*chanting loudly* David David David!

This guy, let me fucking tell you. He will do whatever it takes. And that phrase is often used as hyperbole, but not for him! He will do anything if it helps him reach his goal. I get annoyed at a lot of characters in popular media who are ever so caught up in their morals and how they feel about things and I want to bang their heads against the wall and tell them "Your feelings don't matter. You have a job to do."

Veering away from David for a moment to give an example of what I mean. In Star Trek: TNG, Picard has an opportunity to wipe the Borg out, but doesn't take it because it would involve killing the Borg they've captured whose personality has reasserted itself after being cut off from the collective. But that Borg's going back to the collective anyway, to an existence as a drone which I'd say is a fate worst than death. But Picard places his morals above what needs to be done, saying "Well, it may turn out that the moral thing to do was not the right thing to do." The answer is a resounding DUH, because Picard hasn't been forced into captaincy; he has put himself in a position to make these incredibly important decisions. It doesn't matter whether he can look at himself in the mirror anymore - he would have saved countless lives. All the blood the Borg spill after this point onwards is on his hands. How is that more moral? (It's the trolley problem. That's the episode.)

Okay, sorry, back to David. He's ruthless, grounded, focused, unyielding, but he also doesn't hurt people for fun. If they need to be hurt to achieve his goal, have at it, but he's not cruel or vindictive; a little petty, but just a normal human amount. I've had a lot of amazingly fun discussions with people about where David's line in - psychologically, he is fucking fascinating!

🌙 Crescent moon - Do any of your characters have to hide a part of themselves? Why?

So in my vampire series (which I should be working on but I keep getting distracted 💀) Rush hides his vampirism, going stealth because vampires are treated like dangerous predators, which I use as an allegory for gay/trans people. There's a public register vampires have to sign up to if they want to be able to use blood banks o eat. This obviously means everyone from potential employers to a neighbour down the street would have the ability to type his name into the register and bang, it would confirm him as vampire, meaning at best social ostracization, at worst…

🌌 Milky Way - What is the character development like for your characters? Do they change a lot or not much at all?

Young is on a fucking roller coaster right from the start! He's spent his life in a box, Performing the Necessary Behaviours to be seen as A Man. He's stoic, short-tempered, stubborn, emotionally unavailable, you name it. And the story revolves around him realising he can step outside of the box and still be a man. He doesn't have to be violent or a womanizer or indeed straight at all - he can be FREE.

Space related ask game

[writingwitheli]

GrandMech

Most mechs were hard to function, even with experienced pilots.

They didn't move like people do, the mechanics don't really allow for that. You have to know the engineering intimately to clearly envision how the thing was going to react to your direction. Most pilots spend months learning their piece before going into the field. There were simulators, and for a while the board argued for mechs to be built in a uniform manner for faster learning.

But technology went a bit too fast for that. And the things were way too expensive to mass produce.

Grandma Katersfield knew this well. It was her life's work.

I mean she wasn't my grandma. But she kinda was. She was everyone's grandma, in a way. Most mechs these days still have her work in them, even if there were scraps rebuild around it. Some people called it practical. Pilots called it good luck. The engineers called it "Finally someone who knows what they're fucking doing."

When she passed away, in her garage (had she ever existed anywhere else?), the military held a funeral. Most of the planets held a funeral. The board, somewhere in their core-planet bunkers, held a meeting.

The war wasn't over, and we weren't winning. And we'd just lost our best engineer. It was a big fucking hit for morale. There were losses everywhere.

Presumably after sending a swarm of government drones through the property, the board very quickly touted "Katersfield's Final Work", and "The culmination of everything she's ever done". Some people pointed out the public images that showed how the thing was half-done. But enough people wanted hope that everyone gradually bought into the idea.

The board appointed Katersfield's daughter to lead the finalization of the thing. Ann wasn't exactly an engineer, but they knew how the public would read it. They gave her a team of their best to work with.

When construction was nearly done, the board officially announced that Katersfield's son-in-law would be piloting it. Everyone expected it; he was the only striped pilot in the family. But it hit the top of everyone's news anyways.

The public test run was expected to be simple, and broadcasted live as far as the outer-space colonies.

It… didn't go so well.

Okay, it went very badly.

I mean.

Bad.

What followed was a lot of media confusion. The board hastily tried to put the blame on over-eagerness. People were fired. We lost four moons while our squadrons re-evaluated their lives.

Mark and his husband, Will Katersfield, had a very public divorce. Some people argue it was the media pressure. Some people suspect that the board forced them apart. I think it was a long time coming.

For a while the board pushed forward other candidates. They ran competitions for new mech designers and engineers and electricians. Offered an absurd amount of money and resources. A lot of cool stuff came out of it, but nothing really compares to Katersfield's work.

It was three years after that when media went into a frenzy over a low-grade video of the mech doing cartwheels over the family farm. Fucking cartwheels, man. I can't even do those in my own body most days.

Every news ship went down there as quick as they could. A bunch of civilians, too. Granny says a board member actually showed up in person.

Everyone was immediately on Ann about it. She was the only one that really stayed on the farm. She knew the machinery well enough. And maybe she'd inherited the pilot skills of one of Katersfield's late spouses.

To the dismay of the board, Ann insisted that the pilot was Thoma, one of Will's children. The media went ballistic. Kids weren't even supposed to be piloting mechs in the first place.

Thoma gave an interview to their school teacher and described the sensation of piloting upside down as "even better than going all the way around the bar on a swing and then having Grandma's cookies with two scoops of ice cream!" Their wide grin with missing teeth was eventually made into metal-cards for soldiers to attach under their breast plates and remind them of home.

At some point, Ann made the mistake of admitting that she'd taken it out for a test-run while she was tuning up some joints (she hadn't been an engineer when this started. But things change).

The board came down hard. They publicly announced that Ann was the cartwheeling pilot, and further that she'd accepted a high raking military title with absurd honors and enough pay to buy a moon. They posted a date with a public countdown clock for her departure to the front lines.

Now the way Granny tells it; Ann didn't know about any of this until her neighbor came by with the milk and a congratulations. Granny would probably piss on the board if she still could. Don't let her try it.

Ann did go. She didn't have many options, really. Her bio-logs phrase the situation as "the board made a decision. I complied."

We pushed back the front by two whole planets. Ann wasn't much of a pilot; she spent too much time thinking, but the war pushed around her. Most of the time it only took a three second clip of her unnaturally smooth landing and quick gravity adjustment to a new planet. My old mech would take two minutes to land and readjust. A lot can happen in two minutes.

The official report says Ann died on Mitas 9. The board will probably censor this whole damn thing if I try to explain what happened, but just remember that official reports are. Well. Official.

The mech was commandeered immediately. They cleaned it up, threw on a new coat of paint, and put their highest ranking pilot in the hotseat.

Everyone was in a hurry to get back to it and have a plan ready before Ann's death was publicly announced. Yeru knew the schematics by heart and spent one month living with the mech every hour of every day to make up for lost time. The board went as far as making them legally exempt from standard reports. Yeru's bios were never made public, but you can pull them from the military archives in Section B. They clearly knew their way around a mech, and honestly seemed to be a good person as far as I can tell.

The board had seemingly learned from prior incidents. The Generals hosted a secluded military showing of the first test-run. Those archives are probably deleted, but all you really need to know is that Yeru never made it off the ground.

For a few months, the military looked into sabotage. Yeru's bio-post about the joints being "just plain creaky no matter how much I oil the thing" convinced a bunch of higher-ups that the mech had been swapped out or something.

I know. Creating a whole fake mech to replace it with? Somehow managing to swap the thing out with as much board, military, and media surveillance as it has? Absurd.

Also I'm sure you're well aware that plenty of good mechs have creaky joints. I hear you ran Sacrifice 2 for a while there. Lt. Jen complained about how loud that thing was for months after he shared a hangar with it near Osylus. Not sure if that was your time or not. I'm going to tell him it was, so he'll have something to complain to you about. When he does, ask him about the wardrobe cloning incident. I'm sure he'll know what you're talking about.

Anyways.

The news about Ann went public, and the board pushed it down the feeds with reports about a new Stealth Carrier that would move faster than a pilot-ship. It did. Everyone loved it. I'm sure it's shit compared to the last carrier you were on.

Thoma, meanwhile, had grown up and gotten their way through military school. It might seem strange to you now, but Thoma actually didn't touch a mech the first decade of their service. They had a few friends and plenty worshipers, but still hadn't officially earned enough stripes to be a pilot. The Generals wanted to make sure Thoma was knocked down enough to keep from getting big-headed about it. But Thoma didn't really care.

Thoma fought hard and studied harder. They proved themselves again and again. You can look up the public records of their medal-acceptance speeches. Every damn time they would say "This is a great honor. Can I trade it in for a mech?"

Pissed a lot of people off, but it was fucking hilarious if you ask me.

Eventually Thoma led a fairly large squadron and took a half a continent in a week. When I asked them about it, they said they had sent a text message to the Generals saying "I could've gotten all of it, if I had my own mech :,(". I know them well enough to know they probably actually sent a frowny-face emoji to the Generals. Don't do that. It's hilarious. But, Don't.

Probably.

For now, anyways.

The board reluctantly let Thoma break the mech out of some museum somewhere as a reward for their service. They weren't intending for Thoma to actually run as a pilot since Thoma had already gotten to be in charge of things. It would be a media mess, at best, a military loss at worst.

Thoma did a fucking backflip over live media.

Anyways the board and the Generals argued about it for a week, but eventually did the only thing they could do. They made Thoma a pilot. There were lots of assurances that Thoma would still be holding their responsibilities as Planetary Sergeant. No one cared. Thoma had done a fucking backflip; the Katersfields were at it again.

I'm told that week of debate consisted of at least fifteen other pilots trying the mech out and reporting up failures of various kinds. Don't worry about that, you'll do fine.

I'm sure you know most of the story from there. Thoma took Belet 5 through Belet 11, and some other smaller planets along the way. Majestic. War hero. Idol. Etc etc.

The board immediately pushed Thoma’s son, Madene, into the military and straight into pilot's school. They make a lot of dumb decisions, but even the board could see the pattern here.

You might not have read this about me, but I used to be an electrician. I worked on Thoma's team for a while. The Generals gave Madene special permission to visit us sometimes so he could learn the mech hands-on. He'd always wanted to be an artist or a planetary refurbisher. That was clear from the first day we met.

I'll tell you this now, it's not part of public record: Madene ran the mech just fine when it was just us around. Thoma would give some long drawn-out speech about minding your manners and being careful with her. It was their Grandmother's soul in that machine, after all. Madene didn't really listen, but the mech ran just fine anyways.

When Madene was nearing graduation, the Generals sent their scouts around to see how things were going. The mech ran straight into their drones and fell convulsing onto the ground.

It was a hard time for a while, Thoma was upset with Madene and Madene was embarrassed. There were lots of arguments, and the Generals tried to pretend Madene just didn't have enough experience as a pilot. The idea that Madene did it on purpose didn't get recorded, but it's what a lot of people assumed. I don't think that's what happened, anyways.

Madene tried really hard after that. He pushed himself in school, and as a result they let him try out a bunch of other mechs. He proved he could handle it just as well as some of our better pilots. He took Entrapment marching around the school-system planet four times.

Thoma tore their knee in a pretty brutal fight, and since they were nearing retirement anyways the board arranged for a public hand-off of the mech.

I used to talk to her when I worked. My old pilot - the one I worked electricity for before Thoma - had always been superstitious about this sort've thing. She used to spend a good half-hour reassuring it before she's let me do any work on it. I guess I'd picked up the habit. You might want to pick it up, too, if you haven't already.

I'd asked her to help Madene out. He'd worked so hard and I could tell Thoma was slowing down.

You might have seen the media of that. Afterward Madene was particularly… verbal. Even if you didn't see that, I'm sure you heard about what happened to him after. Don't be too harsh on him, it's really not his fault. We were all too hard on him.

All the media says the Generals did a lot of research and realized I was better suited as a pilot and they shifted me over. How that actually happened was… well. A little boring.

One of their scouts had caught me helping her move over so I could get a better angle at the spinal wiring.

Blah blah blah. I'm sure you know the highlights from there.

So here's where we get to the advice that was the whole point of this message:

I admit the public eye is a little difficult to get used to. Honestly I recommend you just ignore it. They'll say shit no matter what you do.

Don't call her by the name the board gave her. I know that's what you learned in school and in training. Don't do it.

Don't piss her off.

Be patient - her memory isn't what it used to be.

Don't tell her what to do. I read your file, you have a lot of experience. I know this will be the hard part.

If the mediacom switches to one of those awful family gameshows. Just. Let it happen. No, they do not get less annoying to listen to. Yes, she knows they're all the same.

The internal heating will be On when you're on any below-regulation temperature planet. I know you're from the outer colonies. I know that will be too warm for you. Get over it and try not to dress down too much; she's easier to maneuver when you're in layers.

The one exception to the above is her tune-ups and maintenance. She doesn't like it. She never does. We have four crews to make it easier and I still do it myself sometimes to help her get over it. You're going to have to get good at negotiating.

If you leave a battle with a sudden craving in your neurons for hot and hearty soup, go get some hot and hearty soup. She'll get stubborn with you next time if you don't.

Granny will take care of you from there.

-Captain Layfar

[tyranno-creative]

Robots in Disguise: Thundercracker

Faction: Predacon | Decepticon

Function: Air Warrior

“There are those beneath me, and there’s molten slag—and to me, there’s not much of a difference!”

Bio: Thundercracker has served at Starscream’s side for a long time—not out of any sense of loyalty or affection, but because the power hungry former Predacon thought it’d be good to always have one of his best soldiers at his side. Thundercracker, meanwhile, recognizes a good deal when she sees one, and figures that Starscream and his ambitions are the best way for her skills as a warrior to be recognized.

When Starscream broke away from the Predacons and helped form a new faction of Decepticons, Thundercracker followed suit and allowed Jhiaxus to upgrade her with a vehicle form. Prior to changing, she didn’t have any illusions about Decepticons being superior to Predacons, and simply regarded it as a political move her commander was having her take part in in order to earn the loyalty of others.

Once she actually had her new form, however, she was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. Jhiaxus made sure she was stronger, faster, and altogether more powerful as a Decepticon, and it succeeded in making her a true believer. Where she once viewed the upgrade as part of a cynical grab for power, Thundercracker now believes Decepticons truly are superior, and looks down on anyone without a vehicle mode.

Thundercracker’s previous form as a Predacon.

Personality: Thundercracker is a soldier through and through, and her sense of value is wholly dependent on someone or something’s worth in combat. She can be a loyal and dedicated underling so long as you give her the opportunity to demonstrate her power and skill, which is why she’s followed Starscream for so long, even after his goals led to their breaking away from the Predacons.

Her newfound belief in Decepticon superiority is an extension of this. To her, Decepticons are the ideal warriors — stronger, faster, and more dangerous than Predacons will ever be. Ironically, this has finally given Thundercracker the one thing she’s always lacked as a soldier: a cause that she believes in.

This deep seated arrogance not only leads to her looking down on her former comrades, it’s given Thundercracker a good-sized chip on her shoulder. Not just anyone is worthy of becoming a Decepticon in her eyes, and she’s begun to push Starscream into being more discerning in who they allow into their ranks. For now, Starscream has convinced her they need as many followers as they can get, but as time goes on, Thundercracker has grown more and more frustrated. She’s even started to wonder if Starscream is worthy of the “gift” of being Decepticon…

Abilities: In robot mode, Thundercracker boasts considerable physical strength and powerful armor. The jet fuselage on her arms forms a pair of powerful Deflector Shields, capable of projecting an energy barrier that can protect herself and anyone standing near her. The massive launcher on her shoulder can fire autonomous Drone Missiles one after the other, while the missiles on her wings can be fired as heat-seeking warheads. Finally, her Pulverizer Blaster cannon can blow all but the heaviest soldiers off their feet.

Thundercracker has access to all but the latter in her vehicle mode. She transforms into a flying-wing style stealth bomber, which is nearly undetectable from all forms of sensors and radar. She’s sacrificed a great deal of the speed she once had when she transformed into a Cybertronian falcon, but in her mind, it’s all worth it for the advantages her stealthiness affords her in battle.

Thundercracker is also a triple changer and able to assume the form of a tank. While it’s completely unconvincing as a disguise, it gives her anti-aircraft capabilities that allow her to target other flying warriors from a fortified position, or from beneath their notice.

Thundercracker also has the ability to combine with Starscream into a powerful vehicle known as “Starstorm”. As Starstorm, Starscream greatly boosts Thundercracker’s aerial might, allowing her to fly faster and strike harder, making them powerful enough to stand against the might of Galvatron, Ruination, or even Omega Prime.

The toys for both Robotmasters Gigant Bomb and Armada Airazor were repurposed to create this character.

I don’t own the idea of Thundercracker, and this is just a take on an RID ‘01 version of an already existing character. Thus, I can’t say that I own this or that she’s actually an OC, but if you wanna take inspiration from this in your own work, I’d at least enjoy a heads up..

The images used here were taken from BWTF.com’s reviews of Smokesniper and Gigant Bomb, as well as Seibertron.com’s gallery for Armada Airazor.

Support | Buy me a coffee!

[tomyoungwrites]

Adventures in backloggery with Homefront: The Revolution

To say the first Homefront left me lukewarm after playing it would imply that I was left feeling anything after that game finished. Painfully derivative with nothing to say about it’s interesting premise, I left that game fully understanding why so many people dismissed it. 

For those unfamiliar with the premise of Homefront, here it is, fresh from the wikipedia page: “The game tells the story of a resistance movement fighting in the near-future against the military occupation of the Western United States by a Korea unified under Kim Jong-un.”

Sounds interesting right? Telling a guerrilla warfare story based on American soil gives you a chance to take a lot of war-story tropes and twist them into new, interesting forms. Turning America into the occupier instead of the occupier offers a lot to explore. Sadly the original game does nothing like that - instead opting for a very simple “We wanted to take back America and we did” story.

So when I overheard through my gaming circles that the general perception of Homefront: The Revolution was hovering around the 6/10 mark, I was under the impression that while it was an improvement over the first game, it was still not a title that was worth my time. I assumed it was a decent yet uninspiring corridor shooter just like the original game.

Imagine my surprise then when I watched one of the latest videos from Jarek the Gaming Dragon and discovered that my preconceptions about shooting dudes in corridors were entirely wrong! This was an open world shooter, in the vein of Far Cry. And not only that, but the story actually has things to say this time!

Instead of North Korea invading the USA due to them being weakened, North Korea becomes a tech powerhouse. Due to poor decisions by their government, the USA slowly goes into financial ruin while they opt to purchase military technology from North Korea.

North Korea provides aid to the US, but this is just a pretence to establish a foothold and exploit the natural resources within the continent. This is presented as the real reason behind the occupation - because we all know that only evil governments invade foreign countries in order to exploit their natural resources, right?

It’s important to note when talking about the story of this game that playing Homefront: The Revolution in the apocalyptic year that is 2020 makes it hit much different than it would have in 2016. For example, the USA neglecting it’s citizens while spending billions on military weaponry is far too close to reality to even be called satire at this point. However, the he game is very ‘gung-ho’ in it’s expression of American values and honour - which clashed with my current view of the country.

At this point in time, seeing America do things wrong is something that happens on a monthly basis - and seeing people who want to shift the blame for that onto other people is an equally common occurrence. So seeing America ruin itself definitely removes a lot of the sympathy I have for the country as a whole - I of course still sympathise for the common citizen underneath this new regime, but seeing America complain about a foreign power using military might to seize their natural resources isn’t something I can sympathise with the American government suffering through at this point.

Speaking of regimes, seeing Americans actively fighting against a regime who happily deploy lethal force against American citizens (who resist and go against their military police enforced status quo) has also sparked many comparisons to recent events in the US in my mind. I mean, how can it not at this point?

The game does make some effort to comment on the fact that you’re creating more bloodshed and destruction through your actions, but that voice is drowned out by two of the main characters - who’s attitude is “Fuck you, this is America and this is war.” Seeing these characters passionately talk about standing up against the exact evils that America is committing right now makes the whole thing smack of hypocrisy - which isn’t the games fault, but I’d be disingenuous if I didn’t admit it has coloured how I viewed the plot heavily.

Overall, I think the plot does more to explore the themes of the setting than the original Homefront did, but it’s still bogged down in presenting America as the flawless and eternal hero who channels the ‘American Spirit’ through their actions. And this absolutely smacks of hypocrisy in the nightmare-world of 2020.

Also, there is an area of the game where you have to wear a gas mask to survive, but none of the other characters do. They’re expressing their freedoms to breath deadly toxins, I guess?

When it comes to gameplay, it’s not quite true to say that Homefront: The Revolution is a open world game - rather the game is split into a number of open world areas that you unlock as you progress. Keeping different parts of the world silo’d off from each other definitely has benefits from a programming point of view (you don’t have to account for players deciding to go from one side of the map to the other without a loading screen, for one) it also has interesting design implications.

Instead of having to level-gate certain areas of the open world, the game can properly pace each area to your current skill and gear level. You’re also introduced to the different types of zones in a more natural way, and their different mechanics are able to exist separately.

There are two types of area in the game - red zones and yellow zones. These both behave differently in how they express the thematic oppression through gameplay, but I was impressed at just how effective the systems in both areas are at making you feel oppressed.

And that brings me to one of the best things about Homefront: The Revolution - the sense of oppression it expresses through gameplay. It’s important to note that I was playing the game on the hardest difficulty, so this might colour my perception slightly, but I always felt outgunned during almost all my time in the game.

The red zones play similarly to a Far Cry open world, with objectives to complete, collectables to hunt and roaming enemies to attack/get attacked by. Unlike Far Cry however, the environment being full of ruined buildings adds a degree of verticality to the encounters and exploration that makes the smaller world feel much denser than the jungle floor ever did. Here, the game expresses the oppression of the player character through the constant vigilance of patrols and ever-present seeker blimps. These patrol the sky and scan the ground (think the flying drones in Terminator) and will always call in enough reinforcements to kill you. Having to hide under the ruins of collapsed buildings to avoid their search light as they slowly flew overhead always felt tense.

The yellow zones play more like the open world sections of Deus Ex: Human Revolution, with a bigger emphasis on stealth and avoidance of security cameras etc. These areas are typically much more dense than the open red zones, with plenty of corridors and corners to help you break line of sight with enemy patrols. The sheer density of enemies and ways to get spotted in these areas makes you feel constantly on edge, especially when fighting your way out is often a risky option.

And while it doesn’t have as much of an impact, even the health system helps contribute to this sense of oppression. Gone is the regenerating health system, now replaced with a more traditional health bar that must be topped up with healing kits. When you get spotted and enemies take some of your health away, they’re actively chipping away at your resources. This makes each encounter far more threatening, because even if they can’t kill you, they can still whittle you down.

I’m not really a gun guy when it comes to games. It usually takes a game going above and beyond, like in DOOM (2016), to make me actually notice the guns in a game. And oh boy, did I notice the guns in Homefront: The Revolution. Not only do they sound amazing, but they’re extremely well animated and customisable.

The coolest gameplay mechanic in the game is by far the gun customisation mechanic. To summarise, each weapon has two drastically different alternative modes that effect how the gun performs. For example, you can change the stealth-enabling crossbow into a room clearing flamethrower should the need arise. And you can do this on-the-fly while you’re in the game.

Hoping behind cover to change my assault rifle into a sniper rifle in order to take out distant enemies never stopped feeling cool. Seeing the detailed animation of you customising the gun yourself went a massive way in that feeling of coolness. You can also add attachments to your weapons such as silencers in order to adapt to situations as they arrise.

Having you perform these actions yourself adds a lot to the feeling of being a scrappy resistance fighter, having to create your own tools for the job at hand.

Despite all this praise, I can still see why this game sits at a 6/10 rating. Numerous times during my playthrough I would get hard crashes that would require a complete exit from the game. At one point, an NPC blocked a doorway and I needed to reload from a recent checkpoint to escape my new NPC created prison.

I’ve heard that on launch the game was even worse technically, and while the game is definitely good in my eyes, I can see how technical issues could make you easily lose patience with it. It doesn’t quite reach the levels of praise where I’m willing to fully overlook the crashes I’ve experienced, and if it was worse I could see that effecting my view of the game.

Also, the stealth system leaves much to be desired. Despite coming out 4 years after Far Cry 3, the game does nothing to improve on the basic stealth system that game established of “If I see you, my triangle is going to get bigger until I really see you”. This under-baked stealth system led to me mostly abandoning stealth once I’d gained enough gear to handle encounters, despite me being a big fan of stealth options.

Overall, I’m glad that I gave Homefront: The Revolution a shot after all these years of it sitting in my Steam library. At this point, open world titles have a long list of ‘must haves’ thanks to the ubiquity of Ubisoft titles refining the genre. When looking at these titles then, it becomes a case of looking at what is done differently, and the gun system, feeling of oppression and divided world have definitely left an impact on me as a game design nerd.

If you’re looking for an open-world game and don’t mind the occasional crash, it’s definitely worth looking past those 6/10 reviews for the 7.5/10 game that is lurking underneath.

[psychopersonified]

Can your AI do this?

Post Are we ever going to talk about this? and Where was the wooing? (AO3)

Highly recommended to read the series first to get emotionally invested in their story arc. This short piece will feel a lot more satisfying once you know their backstory. But you can still read this as a stand alone.

Q-Branch gets a pet (for science! purposes). Bond tests a new vehicle, and Q gets thoroughly... well you know 😉.

Tags: *Ahem* Fun-times content (be responsible), newly established relationship, humour, fluff with feeling, banter.

-------------------------------

SIS Building - Q-Branch

The little bug eyed bright yellow creature stares up at him from inside its glass terrarium. From that angle, it looks like its smiling up at them.

Q closes the cover after replacing the water dish, “We’re studying its movements and ability to adhere to surfaces. With all the sensitives around drone use and anti-drone capabilities these days, we’re thinking a robot that is a little more discrete would be more effective. Something small, quiet, that won’t trigger existing alarm systems and a much longer battery life. Potentially it might not even need to enter the premises, it could make its way up the side walls and observe from outside.“

“You’re just using that as an excuse to keep something cute.“ The creature raises itself on all fours, head head high, staring at Bond curiously.

“Well I’m not denying it’s good for morale as well.” Q waves his fingers at the creature and it responds by licking an eye with a pink tongue.

“Not mine. I’ve seen your little machine learning side project. You’re working on replacing me with an AI, and a robot gecko. So much for job security.”

“Oh don’t worry. Not until we can fit a miniaturised poison dart gun to the robot, we’ll still need you around.”

“Thanks,” Bond huffs, mildly put out. “So is there anything I can do for you at the moment? Or have you called me here just to insult me?”

Q isn’t fooled, he knew Bond was looking for any excuse to cut short his meeting with M and 009. Agent 007 has a low tolerance threshold for bureaucratic meetings; once past the hour mark, his attention span wanes significantly and he becomes disruptive.

Q smiles at him, “Believe it or not, I’ve actually called you here for legitimate reasons. This way please 007.”

——

London River Thames

They’re standing on the dock under the SIS building. Bobbing in the water attached to a boat is what can only be described as a watercraft bearing an uncanny resemblance to a dolphin.

“It’s a modified Seabreacher; we’ve enhanced its submersible capabilities up to 15 ft and of course added a light weapons system. We’ve also given it an electric motor for low speed stealth mode.”

Bond turns him, expression hopeful. Q has to quickly clarify, “Before you get excited, it’s not assigned to you. But I do need a test pilot today.”

Bond exhales; a put upon sigh. As if he wasn’t internally itching to get into the machine. Q waits for him to change into something more comfortable. When Bond returns, he is in a black turtleneck that showcases the muscles of his upper body to great effect. His holster worn over it and he has driving gloves on. He looks every bit the rouge he’s accused of being.

Q nearly looses his tablet stylus to the Thames when it drops out of his distracted hand and rolls perilously close to a gap between the planks of the dock. He saves it by stepping on it quickly.

They tow the Seabreacher a short distance upriver, somewhere between Battersea Bridge and Chelsea Bridge where river traffic is a little less busy. Bond has an excellent time testing out the craft, quickly getting the hang of barrel rolls, executing spin stops and 90 degree surface breaches and finally, porpoising through the water mimicking the movements of real dolphins. The stealth submersible mode works excellent too, but the Thames has disappointingly poor visibility so there’s not much to see. However it gives them a chance to try the newly installed underwater sonar navigation system. Pity they didn’t get to test the weapons system - the London City Council and the London Port Authority wasn’t too keen on allowing that.

All this acrobatic splashing about draws a crowd among the park visitors on both sides of the river and from the few boathouses docked on the northside of the bank. When the test ends, Bond pulls the craft up along side the waiting boat. He exits the cockpit to a smattering of appreciative applause from a passing tour boat - Americans on holiday likely. Native Londoners are unlikely to be this emotive. Bond smirks and gives them a curt wave.

He’s in such a good mood that once he’s jumped on board the tow boat, he stalks over to Q who had just finished tethering the craft, cups one side of his face with a gloved hand and pecks him quickly on the corner of the mouth in front of everyone.

“Can your AI do that?”

“You’re impossible,” Q lightly shoves him away. Mindful that they are still on the clock.

“And you love challenges.”

“Not impossible ones.”

“Says the man who is trying to replace me with a gecko.”

“You know what, I probably could program an autonomous mode into the thing. For starters, it’ll be far less infuriating.”

“I wasn’t talking about the craft...,” Bond reaches for Q again, this time swiping a thumb over the corner of his mouth where the agent just kissed.

“Get a room!… Sirs.” Nish yells at them from the helm of the tow boat. He’s still peeved that he lost money on the bet about them getting together.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence - Sexy times

Bond’s good mood extends all the way to the evening when they get home. Dinner was abysmally quick because a randy agent wouldn’t let Q sit down to eat; pressed up against him from behind, groping and palming him between the legs as he rushed through his food standing at the kitchen counter.

A quick shower later and they‘ve exiled the cats and seconded themselves in the bedroom.

“Talk to me about the Seabreacher again,” Bond instructs as he lowers a well prepared Q into his lap. The entry is tight but smooth. The heat of Q’s waiting body intoxicating.

Q savours the breach, the feeling of invading fullness as Bond pushes in. “Hmm... turns you on does it?“ Q wraps his arms around Bond’s neck and kisses him playfully before sucking on his bottom lip and nipping up the line of Bond’s jaw to give the agent’s earlobe a playful bite.

“How many horsepowers?” Bond rumbles, squeezing a fleshy cheek in retaliation and to prompt him along.

“300 from the twin supercharged intercooled ICE alone…,” Q breathes into his ear, “…another 50 from the electric motor... Ah!” Q grinds down to meet his upward thrust.

-Fuck YESSss-. He didn’t think it possible, but Bond feels himself stiffen further. He snakes a hand from behind, into Q’s hair and tugs his head back. “Weapons?” He mouths against the delicate column of Q’s pale exposed neck, latching on and sucking with every intention to bruise.

“Ngghhh!… Dorsal mounted assault rifle. Ah!... Two rounds of compact mini underwater torpedos.. Ooh... with blast force that could sink a yacht—“ the next thrust sends Q wailing “—Jaaaames!” Feeding right into his ego.

Bond kisses Q deeply. -God how he loves this man-, “Manoeuvrerbility?”

“Jet nozzle trust vectoring— *gasp*…full tail articulation… *gasp* …giving the pilot complete control to execute high speed 360 degree barrel rolls—“ Bond changes angle suddenly, “Fuck! James!” Q’s grip around the agent’s shoulders tightens to brace himself against it. The things this man does to him! The sudden intensity of sensation as Bond hits the right spot brings tears to his eyes.

“Mmm… What else can it do?” Bond demands, pulling Q downwards even as his hips snap up - growling with the force it.

It takes a few seconds for Q to recollect his thoughts, gritting his teeth, eyes squeezing shut. “High speed, 90 degree underwater to surface breaches… Oh God!… Submarine mode up to 15ft dept …*gasp* …electric powered stealth mode up to five…*gasp* …five nautical miles—,” Q buries his face in the crook of Bond’s neck moaning, “… Bullet proof cabin pod.”

Q is panting hard now, fingernails biting into the muscles of Bond’s back, riding through the staccato rhythm the best he can. “James, please. I can’t think anymore…” he begs.

Bond tips them over onto the bed so he’s on top and continues their practiced rhythm. Alternating between deep and shallow thrusts. With most of Q’s weight now supported by the bed, Bond can put all of his strength into his hip movements.

The intensity has Q gasping his name at every inward shove, which just fuels Bond’s possessive fire. It turns into a blaze - spurring him on; harder, deeper. Q’s previously restrained cries turn into outright wails and Bond has to muffle them with deep consuming kisses lest they scare the cats or the neighbours call the police on them.

Soon, the friction between their bodies along with the sweet repetitive drag of Bond’s unyielding girth and length inside him, angled just right, has Q whimpering for release; for mercy. His entire body is shaking -Too much!- “Please James!… Please… I need…. I need…,” Bond swallows every word of his plea with greedy possessive kisses, all the while not missing a stroke.

When Bond finally responds, his voice is low, gravelly and teasing, “Yes love, what do you need?” The gentleness of his tone a direct contrast to the unrelenting strength of his thrusts. The bastard knows exactly what he needs!

Frustrated, Q bites down on a thickly muscled shoulder, but that serves only to stoke Bond’s cruelty. His pumping slows, turning into deep powerful grinds. The pleasure is agonisingly drawn out, the sustained feeling of fullness, arguably more torturous.

“Oh God! Jaa—mees please!… I can’t… Ah!…” Q sobs in desperation, his body strung so tight, clawing for release, wanting, needing.

“Sshhh…” Bond soothes, strong hands caressing the length of Q’s body but his hips do not relent. Then comes more deep claiming kisses - stealing the very breath from him before Bond finally reaches down between them, grabs a firm but gentle hold of him and starts stroking, from root to tip, milking him exactly as he likes it.

Q moans brokenly. Body shuddering. One more deep angled thrust and a slow swipe of a calloused thumb over his leaking tip and Q arches his back in absolute unconditional surrender.

Pleasure rips trough his body, muscles tightening and spasming with his release - clamping down hard around the fullness still inside him for long seconds before slowly going lax. His brain shuts down into safe mode.

When he first comes to, he’s vaguely aware that James is still thrusting into him, face buried in his neck. With a final stuttering push he too tips over the edge, rooting deeply and coming in long spurts. The loud rapturous moan that escapes him is one of unreserved release. Never has Q heard him this vocal on missions, the sounds of pleasure usually only coming from his marks - 007 is himself usually silent, a few grunts and he’s done.

James collapses on top of him, their chest rising and falling in synchronised rhythm. Once they’ve finally caught their breaths, they’re kissing again, slow languid kisses of pure affection. James is still on top, propped up on his elbows, Q’s head cradled in his hands, his heavy warm weight a secure blanket. Q has never felt this completely possessed yet this utterly worshipped at the same time than when he is with James.

With a final noisy kiss, Bond reaches for the towel he’d set aside the bed earlier. Q’s brain finishes rebooting while Bond gently disengages and cleans up the mess between them.

The first coherent thought that comes to Q’s mind is, “You know, I think there might still be space to fit an auxiliary air supply unit to extend the submersible range.”

Bond pauses his clean up ministrations to kiss him again, “Careful love, keep saying those things and you just might instigate a second round.”

Q grins cheekily up at him, “Oh you like that do you? Wait till I tell you about the car we’re planning for you... Ah! James!!”  

The next day Q has to wear a hideous brown and grey stripped turtleneck to work and explain to Ops why MI6 received a notification that a police patrol unit was dispatched to his residence at 12:30am that morning.

——FIN——

If anyone would like to name the gecko, I’m open to suggestions.

Notes: If you liked this story, there’s more on the blog or AO3. Please like, reblog, comment etc. Enjoy!

[jeanvaljean24601]

Watch Dogs: Legion Hands-On — A World Worth Exploring

Watch Dogs: Legion follows the series’ established hack-heavy formula, but the new recruitment system adds a refreshing layer of intrigue underneath your run of the mill missions. All of which still have the fun of outsmarting enemies or finding the right angle to solve a puzzle, download a key/file, or wreak havoc from afar. But the most appealing part of Watch Dogs: Legion is finding and recruiting new people. From potential new weapons to lovable characters with fascinating backgrounds and recruitment missions, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain by expanding DedSec.

Watch Dogs Legion’s Degrees of Dystopian.Set in near-future London, the bombings DedSec was framed for have led to an authoritarian state in which Albion - a private military corporation - has taken over policing while an intelligence community, led by Signal Intelligence Response Service (SIRS), spies on London’s citizens. In an attempt to clear DedSec, you’re tasked with finding out who is responsible for the London bombings. Villains include Nigel Cass, CEO of Albion, and Mary Kelly, leader of an organized crime syndicate in London. x96 tv box

In keeping with the series norms, Watch Dogs: Legion operates in the extremes of tech-gone-too-far and corporations-up-to-no-good. It’s what I expect, but  as an exaggeration of where society could head, some storylines are more believable and intriguing than others. An Albion security guard making a janky deal to get medicine felt like a natural extension of the current ways governments fail their people, but an evil CEO shooting someone with a room full of high-powered witnesses felt more cartoonishly evil than cleverly dystopian.

Making every character playable is a narrative risk, but it’s one Watch Dogs: Legion seems to pull off based on what I’ve played so far. Those who felt Marcus Holloway’s cutscene persona didn’t match his mid-mission murders may have a hard time buying into the idea of convincing anyone on the street to join what’s publicly viewed as a terrorist organization — favors aside.

The script differences highlight each character as a unique individual rather than a generic stand-in. From the reserved yet no-nonsense attitude of the old lady I added to my team to my recently recruited Albion guard frantically chatting while she drives through London as if to say “Oh my god; I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

And at the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with things being a bit video game-y if the ends justify the means, and in Watch Dogs: Legion they seem to do just that. Playing as anyone goes as narratively smoothly as it can, given the gameplay, and the experience of recruiting randos makes for a joyous open-world experience. android tv box

While there are plenty of new elements to Watch Dogs: Legion, such as ridable cargo drones, the fundamentals are still present. Take over cameras to redirect power, download data, or interact with nearby objects to create distractions or explosions. Distract enemies by sending something to their phones. Or go straight into combat, which leans even more heavily on player choice with enemies only using melee attacks against you until you pull out your gun and decide it’s time for a firefight. This is particularly convenient for those looking to stealth and hack their way through encounters.

My demo dropped me to the midpoint of the game where missions were a routine to-do list of heading from location to location, hacking drones to scope out the area, and then hacking cameras to download access keys or cause mayhem. At this point in the game the ability to cloak enemy bodies was available, allowing for a more aggressive playstyle, with stealth easier to pull off without alerting foes. London’s various buildings, tourist spots, and construction sites made for a fun playground to strategize my way through each gig.

The loop may be familiar, but that doesn’t make it any less fun. As usual, I found that causing destruction without getting my hands dirty was far more amusing than doing stealth takedowns of less than intelligent A.I who have dull walking patterns and are easily lured or distracted. Seeing how many enemies I can kill by stringing hacks to set off carefully timed explosions before I even step foot in a building never ceased to satisfy. If I was spotted, I found it easier to lean on whatever guns I had available than to bother regaining my cover or fighting hand to hand.

Fast travel still exists and some characters even have their own vehicles (often equipped with useful tech), but otherwise there’s good old-fashioned carjacking. A clever, futuristic touch is the option to steal a self-driving car (just look for the icon on the windshield). No driver or passenger punching required!

Driving still feels arcade-y at heart but some vehicles control better than others. The narrower and more roundabout-filled London streets make for a slower, more challenging drive than speeding down San Francisco. Of course, there isn’t much of an immediate penalty for running over lampposts or even pedestrians.

However, upon closer examination you’ll notice that running over someone makes them like you less. Good luck recruiting the person you just hospitalized (still possible! But an awkward icebreaker once they recover). Albion may come after you if they see you commit a crime, but losing them isn’t too difficult as long as you put enough distance between the two of you. Some nice touches include the fact that they can follow you into buildings — your safe house is inaccessible when you’re under pursuit — and if you’re cornered, an electrical device can latch onto your car, rendering it undrivable.

Making Your Team is a Dream.By far, Watch Dogs: Legion’s biggest and most impressive differentiator is the ability to play as anyone. Though getting complete intel on a person (down to their schedule) requires you to upgrade the DeepProfiler by using Tech Points you find hidden in the world. Getting to know them will tip you off to what they’re looking for and unlock their recruitment missions to turn an initial No into a Yes. x96 tv box

The borough uprising system lets you take on missions to empower a borough and give them a more positive outlook on DedSec. Some recruitments will be mandatory as part of the campaign, such as an Albion guard, but you mostly have free reign. If you just want to get the best of the best, DedSec will mark a few people of interest on your map who have been predetermined as good recruits, such as a Drone Expert and Bee Keeper. But you’re also free to recruit whoever is roaming around London.

The first person who caught my eye was an adorable old lady who was looking for some Darts competition. To recruit her, the first step was to go to the pub and play her in Darts, which is one of the most appealing mini-game side quests I’ve ever had the option to do. Hell yes, I want to play this old lady in Darts to get her to join DeadSec! Winning led to her recruitment mission of investigating how her job replaced the 300 workers who were laid off.

I could see this recruitment loop getting stale over time but, during my brief session, I adored every moment of it because I was doing it for my new recruit and my reward was having her there for the rest of my adventure - despite the fact that the mission itself was nothing special.

Unfortunately, she was arrested shortly after being recruited.  Despite previous plans for mandatory permadeath, no one dies in Watch Dogs: Legion unless you opt-in to play with permadeath on. Instead, they just get arrested or hospitalized and locked by a timer. You can go to the police station and potentially get them out early but the easier solution is to just switch to a different operative. Having certain operatives on your team such as Albion guards, police officers, or EMTs will decrease your time in jail or the hospital.

A Dynamic and Diverse Group.Each character has their own loadouts, perks, professions, personalities, and backgrounds. Weapons and tools are shared across your team and can be swapped, but there are some gadgets and guns that are locked to certain types of recruits.

Uniform Access allows for certain characters to enter restricted areas more easily. So walking into a construction site as a construction worker means I can more freely walk through the area and it takes longer for enemies to detect my presence. However, they can still realize I don’t belong there so it’s not an instant win.

My assassin had a slew of powerful guns at her disposal but the graffiti artist had a paintball gun and would spray folks in the face after executing a takedown. Even across folks from the same background there’s some level of variation. android tv box

For instance, one construction worker will have a different set of tools than another.There were some rough edges in the build I played. When characters are defeated the animation looks a bit goofy, and there are some questionable drivers. But some of these may be cleared up by launch. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Watch Dogs: Legion and grew attached to the different characters, their arsenals, and their sparkling personalities. The lack of a primary main character doesn’t detract from the story. Instead, it incentivizes exploring and immersing myself in a world I otherwise may have ignored in favor of mainlining the story.

Watch Dogs: Legion’s gameplay follows the established formula of hacking devices to accomplish your task at hand with the option to go in guns blazing - though it’s the less enticing route when you have plenty of gadgets at hand and drones overhead.

[ganlink]

Snapshots

Also posted on AO3! 

Snake knew that he had been gone for awhile, and things aren’t ever likely to stay the same… but something about Link seemed… different. 

The stoic, straight faced man Snake had met at the start of the Brawl tournament was no more. But no matter how much recon and Secret Surveillance he conducted while Link had his back turned? The mercenary couldn’t put his finger on just what had caused the change in the blond haired fighter. People didn’t just switch personalities so drastically in a matter of a few short years… or change from… green to blue. And where the hell was his hat? 

It was an inexplicable mystery… unless some higher form of evil was involved and had taken over his pointy eared friend when Snake had gone on his undisclosed hiatus.

That had to be it. It was always evil.

“Just look at that little prick…” Snake was conducting another reconnaissance mission from within his cardboard box. “So carefree… so chipper… always on his stupid little tablet. Who the hell does this kid think he is?” Kids these days were always on their phones, taking dreaded selfies and posting tweeties or whatever. If Snake didn’t care about blowing his cover, he would have walked straight up to the blue bastard and smacked that tablet right out of his hands.

That would have to wait, however. One day Princess Peach had somehow spotted him through his clever cardboard disguise. The princess looked innocent, but Snake knew better than to underestimate her especially now that his cover had been compromised. He decided for his own sake it would be best to confide in her Majesty his secret plans of exposing Link as the fraud he truly was. Lest she torture him for information or expose him or hold him down and force him to eat cake.

“Uh huh…” Peach looked away, as if embarrassed. “Mister Snake… didn’t anyone tell you? The Link you knew from the last tournament retired.”

The cigarette Snake was smoking fell limply from his mouth. How could he have forgotten that one pivotal fact? Years ago, Mei Ling had told him of the existence of other Links… just as there were many Snakes. To think that Link had snuck in and out of Smashville right from under his careful watch, only for another one of him to crawl his way into the tournament, completely unnoticed? Interesting.

Snake scratched his chin thoughtfully. “A switch between Links, you say? Well played, you big eared son of a bitch…” 

He had momentarily forgotten about the princess standing in front of him. Princess Peach was stamping out his unfinished menthol with a delicate pink heel. “I beg your pardon, Mister Snake?” she asked.

“Nothing, your highness.” Snake pulled his box back over his head. But his muffled voice still reached Peach and he said, “I have to go uhh… do stuff. If anyone asks, you never saw me and this conversation did not happen.” And just like that he noisily shuffled away.

Stealth was his middle name, after all.

That day, Snake decided he would figure out the root of Links evil… no matter what. It took time and careful, nonstop, twenty four hour surveillance seven days a week, but Snake finally broke through Links defenses one fateful afternoon…

“Hey Link, you wanna go get some Jamba Juice?” Cloud asked, poking his head into Links dorm.

“Sure Cloudy, that sounds great!” Link said and Snake wanted to strangle the little twerp. But he had a job to do first.

The two unsuspecting idiots left the door unlocked, and their secrets? Wide open. Snake was going in.

“I’m going in,” Snake murmured into his recorder.

Links room was a disorganized mess of clutter, ranging from various discarded pieces of paper, to house plants, cookware and there were even weapons mounted to the wall. Instruments of torture, no doubt. But none of these things were what Snake was looking for, no, he wanted to get his hands on that tablet Link carried around.

As he searched, Snake couldn’t help but notice the photos that lined the walls. The mercenary rolled his eyes at the dramatic display, assuming they were all of those stupid selfies Link was always taking, but he soon realized that he was gravely mistaken.

Instead the photos showed not only Link, but images of his competitors and friends. Mario, Kirby, Yoshi, Robin, Isabelle, the Inklings… everyone. During their matches, meals shared together, candid shots of them all, every single one smiling and bright eyed. There were even some of him. Granted, it was just him in his cardboard box… how had Link discovered his hiding place? His hidden identity? How long had Snake lived a lie?

Was he being toyed with by a sinister predator? “What the hell is this… some kind of hit list?” Snake grumbled in abject horror. “Good God… Is he planning on taking us all out?” It seemed that Link was farther gone than Snake had originally thought. Would that maniac stop at nothing until they were all dead and buried in a shallow grave?

The sound of the door opening pulled Snake away from his thoughts. He snuck into his beloved box and hid behind an unassuming ficus, knowing his cover couldn’t be blown yet… not when he was so close to exposing this great secret to the entire world. Had Link returned early?

His suspicions were quickly answered as Links voice rang out. “I’ll be right back, Cloud! I forgot to bring a reusable, non-plastic straw. We all gotta do our part, right?”

“Ugh, that’s it… I’ll kill you with my bare hands…” Snake said in disgust, before realizing his mistake all too late.

Link perked up. “Huh?” he asked. “Is someone there? I have to warn you! I can stand at the edge of this room and shoot arrows everywhere forever and ever until you show yourself!”

“Fine, fine, geez! You campy bastard!” Snake pulled his box away. It was the first time he and this new Link stood face to face. He had never noticed how short the other was until now. It was kinda cute, actually.

“Snake!?” Link said, and his long ears were perked up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The man in question lit a cigarette. “As if you haven’t figured that out by now,” Snake took a big drag before blowing smoke in Links face. “I know all about your little scheme to pick off every last one of us. This wall is the mark of a serial killer.”

Link waved a hand in front of himself, unbothered. He looked back and forth between Snake and the wall of incriminating evidence, and then back and forth again. “You mean this wall of photos? You’ve got it all wrong, Snake! It’s… it’s not like that…”

Snake waited for Link to explain himself further, or perhaps he was simply quietly weighing out his options for making a hasty escape. But Link continued regardless.

“Before I came here, I lost all of my memories… I couldn’t remember anything about myself, and for a long time I thought my only purpose in life was to fight. But photos helped me remember who I used to be, the friends I shared my time with, and the memories we made together.”

Link didn’t know why he was being so open with Snake, especially since the man had (he thinks) just accused him of being a serial murderer and a stalker. Perhaps Snake had gotten the wrong idea from Ganondorf or Toon Link or something.

“I know it’s stupid, but… sometimes I get scared, of losing all of my memories again. So I like to take photos. You know, to help, if that ever happens...”

Meanwhile, Snake suddenly looked thoughtful. He knew as much as Link did what it felt like to be considered nothing but a weapon, built for killing.

He took out his recorder, speaking into it in remorse, “Perhaps, I… made a miscalculation.”

“Oh, Snake… are you apologizing to me?!” Link turned bashful. “D-don’t worry! This sort of misunderstanding happens all of the time!” he said, but it was an obvious lie meant to preserve the mercenaries extremely weird sense of pride.

Snake looked around awkwardly. Now would have been a perfect time to escape. “Link, I uh… uhhh…” he droned on stupidly instead.

Link was quick to brighten up however. “Hey! We should commemorate this beautiful moment of mutual understanding with a selfie!” With surprising strength Link pulled Snake close to him.

“Say ‘Snap!’”

There was the tell tale click of a camera shutter going off. Link adjusted his Sheikah slate to inspect his newest prized shot, but all that came of it was his own smiling face posed next to a muddled gray and black blur indicative of Snake fleeing the scene.

“Wait a second! Where did you go?!”

Snake was tucked safely away in his cardboard box far, far away as a clueless Link looked around for him.

He found himself grinning despite himself. It was too soon to say with certainty, but maybe someday Snake would be another one of those memories on the wall.

[snarkymarly]

Marlene McKinnon: Biography

tw: Killing mentioned, implied PTSD

If you had asked Marlene as a child what she wanted to do when she grew up, she would have said make her family proud. The McKinnons are a well known pureblood household after all and she was supposed to be their shining light. Their beautiful daughter with braids, pink dresses and a smile that could warm the room. She was the pristine example of her parent’s hard work. Only permitted to talk to those who her parents approved of, there were few outside influences to change or challenge her way of thinking in her younger years. Until she met James. Despite her tendency to follow her brother around and assist with his trouble making, she connected immediately with James Potter. It didn’t take long for the siblings to “adopt” him into their family. Marlene spent her early years with bows in her hair, muddy feet and a constant smile. 

When Liam left to go to Hogwarts, Marlene was in awe of the Express, the amount of other witches and wizards. Of course, she was aware they existed, however her family stayed out of the busy social scene, preferring to keep to themselves and their friends. It was, however, Marlene’s first glimpse of what was really out there. Life at home without Liam was strange. It meant more attention on Marlene, but her parents clearly missed their son and nothing she could do would make their faces light up the way a letter from Liam did. Every dinner conversation centered around how well liked he was, his excellent school performance and his Quidditch candidacy. Marlene loved and missed her brother, but hated feeling like she was less important than a piece of paper. So she spent more time with James, the pair fantasizing about what their years at Hogwarts would entail. Though a mark of insecurity, Marlene also decided to use her brother’s success as motivation, to find a way to beat him at his own game. Then, it was Marlene’s turn.

Unable to find James on the express, Marlene wandered around the train compartments until a cheery voice offered her a spot. That was how Marlene met Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald. The three girls talked with barely controlled enthusiasm about the rumors of the school. Unlike most of the other students, Marlene wasn’t nervous about her sorting. She was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin, or maybe Ravenclaw just as everyone else in her family was. A week later, she learned about howlers when word of her Gryffindor sorting reached her parents. Rather than immediately reuniting with James as she had planned, Marlene bonded with her two new friends and met Alice and Dorcas along the way. For the first time since meeting James, Marlene expanded her idea of family to encompass the four girls. Initially, classes were fascinating. While she had been taught basic magic before, she enjoyed expanding her knowledge while meeting new people. It didn’t take long for Marlene to have woven herself into the middle of the school, enraptured with the lives of others, whether they were friends or not.

However, she began encountering problems with her instructor’s comments, primarily those that compared her work to her brothers. Despite trying her best, her work never seemed to stack up to Liam’s. While Marlene brushed most of it off her shoulders, there remained the nagging voice in the back of her head that continued to tell her she wasn’t good enough. Second year was when classes began to lose their appeal. Hogwarts was amazing, everything about it fascinated Marlene. She would much rather be wandering the halls than listening to an old woman drone on about the history of magic or muggle studies. So Marlene started to skip classes and spent more of her time socializing and exploring. She got away with it, for the most part, and with help from the other girls she was able to maintain decent grades.

Third year marked her fist kiss, if it could even be called that. They’d held a celebration party in the dorms and some kids from the other houses showed. A Hufflepuff boy from her brother’s year introduced her to flirting and left her with a kiss goodnight. While just a peck, she still counted it. As did her furious brother when he found out. That year also marked her first fight. Marlene previously met and tolerated students whose ideas contrasted to her own. However, when a Slytherin boy made a comment smearing her family’s reputation, it took Marlene all of two seconds to lose her happy-go-lucky demeanor and hex him bald. Sure, it was immature and irresponsible, but she couldn’t have cared less. The detention was worth it.

In her fifth year Marlene hit a low point. Her brother had graduated and gone on to work at the ministry, yet another success story for her parents to tell. Despite her underlying bitterness, the school took on an empty feeling without him. She’d been repairing her relationship with her family over the years and Liam’s departure felt like a step backwards. Her bright smile faded away and the spitfire of a girl became dull. To make things worse, stories of half-bloods and muggle-born families being attacked were increasing. It took several hot coca interventions from Mary, Doe, Alice and Lily to convince Marlene that they were her family too and would stay by her side, no matter how moody she became. Meanwhile, skipped classes began to show in her grades. Cheating was becoming more and more difficult and her professors advised her to shape up.

Despite the growing tension across the wizarding world, Marlene’s sixth year went by just like the rest. With her grades steadily dropping, she bought into whatever she could to ignore the problems in front of her: smoking, drinking, hooking up. By the end of the year, Marlene was scrambling to salvage the pieces of her future. The tension between bloods was getting harder to ignore and Marlene was itching to throw herself into the fray. By the time of graduation, Marlene decided that auror life wasn’t for her. Investigation and stealth were not areas Marlene exceeded in. Instead, she wanted to be a hit wizard, to deal with the more unsavory characters because if anyone was cut out for dirty work, it was her. She was accepted into training, barely and devoted herself to her work.

Marlene made her first kill when she was 21. Despite being in training, the group of hit wizards she was with ended up separating from each other and being ambushed by their bounty. With the command to immediately fall back if something went wrong, she found herself stuck in a duel with one of the criminals. After being injured severely, she spoke the killing curse for the first time before apparating away. From that day on, Marlene has found it hard to sleep. She constantly wakes up, jarred by nightmares of what she did and has been unable to get over a strange sense of guilt. Her friends pressured her for information, reminding her that they would always keep her secrets, protect them and carry some of the weight, but the last thing Marlene ever wanted was to be seen as weak. Instead, she jumped from bed to bed, seeking comfort in the arms of anyone willing to give it, or at least an illusion of solace. Although she’s stayed in training, she can’t unsee the flash of the killing curse when her eyes shut. 

[gear-project]

After reading the first chapter of Lightning the Argent, it seems that Raven has been using magic needles as projectiles since his first appearance. However, why is it that Malbeth's "insect" was incapable of scanning him and regarded him as an impossible existence?

The Sentinels and their “Insects” are best described as a modern equivalent of a bio-mechanical surveilance Camera Drone.  

In fact it’s amazing to think such technology could still exist after 1999, given what happened to most technology after the Dawn of Revival (when the Universal Will essentially took over anything with a circuit board built in it).  Most likely the Conclave were the ones who preserved the technology and gave it to the Sacred Order, but I digress.

Raven has a unique ability to teleport, transform himself in to an actual Raven bird, and even become nearly transparent to the naked eye.

Part of it is his physical abilities which exceed most mortal humans, based on how fast and how flexible he is.

But it’s also probably a level of stealth magic he learned from being around Asuka R. Kreutz, along with the several hundred to thousand years he has lived.

Raven has also been exposed to the Backyard, so he most likely knows certain things that can make him seem almost immaterial to basic to advanced sensory equipment.

It can even be said that certain clothing materials “reflect” things like Sound and Light to the point that it appears nonexistent to a camera.  A genuine optic and sound camouflage if you will.

Regardless, I doubt the novel ever explains how Raven pulls it off, but his supernatural abilities do in fact rival the likes of even Slayer and Zato=ONE, so that should be considered as part of his wide range of talents.

[butcanijustnot]

Taste Of The Light - A Young Justice FanFic Chapter Two – Disagreements without goals

Author: Crystalline / @butcanIjustnot

Fandom: Young Justice x OCs

Part number:  Chapter Two of Seventeen

Tagging: @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69  It’s here! It’s finally here! I phoned this in to within an inch of its life but it’s here!

Summary: Young Justice debate tournament with questionable characterization. Shout out to Nat (tagged above) for helping me out with this!! Thank you so much!!

Also, this fic takes place between season 1 and season 2 of the show, as shown by the timestamps in the chapters.

Word Count: 1.6, shorter than the others and by my estimate the shortest chapter I’ll write in this series.

Warnings: None. Not even swearing this time. Yay me!

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

Mount Justice

1pm. 9th October 2011

The Young Justice team had had this mission, dubbed the Villainous Descendants mission, for a week. It was thrown rather haphazardly onto them by the Justice League, and with that came the decision of what to do one they found these villains’ children. The best way to deal with the simple existence of these kids, much less find a way to keep them safe. That meant that for the last week, a fierce debate had been raging between various members of the team on what the hell it is that they should do?

“Wait, no, when we find these people, we’re sending them to juvie, right? I thought that that was what we decided yesterday!” Wally said, looking around the room at everyone. His words seemed authoritative but his face just looked confused. Understandable really, at one point or another these arguments just kind of blend together and blur into one huge chaotic mess.

“Wally, no, that’s not humane! We can’t just lock them up! THEY haven’t committed any crimes! My god, Wally, are you ever listening?!?” Artemis was vocal on this topic. The things that she’d experienced made her believe strongly that just because somebody is the child of a villain doesn’t mean that they themselves are inherently evil.

Wally glared at her from across the boardroom table. In light of the constant arguing and difference of opinions, Kaldur called a meeting in the hopes that they could reach a decision. That was two hours ago, they were no closer to an answer, and the team was about ready to tear each other to shreds. “So we are just supposed to wait around until they do!?! Its simple statistics, Artemis, children with parents in jail tend to be more likely to commit crimes in the future.”

“Okay, wow… Yes, there is a chance that they will commit crimes, but there’s also a chance that the WON’T, but I can guarantee that if these kids aren’t bitter towards us and the Justice League now, they will be after they’re unfairly incarcerated and scrutinized. Much as it might make sense now, we have to consider the potential that we’re doing more harm than good in the future.” Artemis half-yelled back, this constant arguing taking a serious toll on her emotional health.

“Team…,” Kaldur said, but his voice was drowned out by the surrounding arguments. He needed their attention quickly, what he had to say was no doubt important, but these disagreements were causing control on his team to slip and fall to the wolves.

“I suppose that if you feel so strongly about this, you think I’m evil too!!” Connor yelled from his spot on the opposite side of the room, engaged in a fierce debate with M’Gann, clenching his fists and shaking his head. “The first time that I met the team, I attacked them without even thinking about it!! That’s evil, right?!?”

“That’s different, Connor, you were being mind-controlled!!!” M’Gann screeched back. “If these kids do something terrible, it’s completely on them!!” She yelled as loud as her voice could go without cracking. She turned and gestured to Roy and Karen, who was sitting down at the conference table watching the arguments around them unfold. “Come on guys, back me up!”

Karen and Roy had, for the most part, been completely quiet in the middle of all of this chaos. Roy shook his head, really not wanting to get in on this argument. To be honest, he didn’t really care, but that gave him an advantage over the rest. He was the only truly impartial source on the squad. “Both sides make good points, but I can’t help but see a bigger problem. If we choose not to lock them up, we have to find something else to do with them. If we can’t incarcerate them and we don’t feel comfortable just releasing them back into society, then we would have to find another place to send them where we would still be able to keep an eye on them. The way I’m seeing it, there is no middle ground, no way to keep them safe that doesn’t compromise their freedom in some way.” He explained.

“Everyone, we need-” Kaldur tried to intersect again, but was talked right over once again.

“There is no reason that we shouldn’t be at least a little suspicious. The fact is that their family makes them dangerous.” Wally attempted to explain himself.

“Hey!” Dick grimaced, shaking his head at his friend. “Just because you share blood with someone doesn’t necessarily make you a family.” He attempted to defend. “I agree with Artemis. Don’t judge them on their parent's mistakes.”

“Of course you would say that! Your mentor is BATMAN! That's like the Champagne of parent-figures! Maybe you’ve had a great role model in your life, but they definitely haven’t!” Wally fired back.

“EVERYBODY STOP!” Kaldur finally yelled, having had more than enough of these arguments and needing everyone’s full attention immediately. The room went stunningly quiet as the team members slowly returned to their seats at the conference table.

“I should have done that an hour ago…” He mumbled, pulling up the screen sharing software of TechTalks computer. The Justice League had gifted it to them in a half-hearted effort to help them with this mission, but as much as Dick and Kaldur had been taking turns watching it, nothing of interest had been happening. Just an inordinate amount of time spent on questionable…. adult websites. Nothing, at least, until the last couple of hours.

“There’s been a development in the case. I need everyone’s attention. NOW.” He said, directing the team's attention to the screen. Text messages flashed up on the screen between TechTalk and ‘W’.

Planning ambushes on targets at 10 O’Clock tonight. One at Fitcherson St, Gotham, and another on the old LexCorp Warehouse at Gotham Docks. Are you willing to send me back up? I’ll reimburse you when I’m successful. ~W

I’m dubious, but alright. I’ll send six beta-class drones. ~TechTalk

Harsh, TT, I’m hurt. How about ten? ~W

Seven, and if you send them back in pieces again, I’m footing you the bill. ~TechTalk

Good talk… ~W

The team read through the messages in stunned silence. Slowly, murmurs began to arise around the room.

“Well, there we go! That’s the lead we’ve all been hoping for! Finally!” Wally said, far too excited about the idea of some children getting attacked. “Now we know where he’s going to strike!” He exclaimed, darting to the door. “We just need to get there first and stop him!”

“Not so fast!” Artemis said, gesturing for Wally to ‘calm down’. “We still haven’t decided what we are going to do once we get there.” She continued, looking around at everyone’s mixed expressions, dismayed.

“And we have no idea what to expect when we get there. We don’t know who ‘W’ is or how these kids are going to react to us confronting them. If they’re anxious, they could lash out at us” Dick added. Everyone turned, looking anxiously at Kaldur and waiting for his decision.

Kaldur thought for a second, before shaking his head and rising to his feet. “We can’t afford to do nothing. This is the first lead we’ve had in weeks, and if we pass this up, we might not get another chance. There are two separate attack points so we will have to split into two separate teams and take on two threats at once.”

Short murmurs spread across the boardroom. “So, what’s the plan?” Connor finally asked.

“Connor, M’Gann, you two head to Fitcherson St. Lay low in stealth mode until the attackers are sighted, then engage and neutralize. If possible, find the victims and bring them back to Mount Justice. If necessary, detain them temporarily.” He finished, working off of the mixed expressions of his teammates. His eyes darted between Connor and M’Gann. “I trust that you won’t let this argument get in the way of doing your jobs.”

“Of course we won’t,” M’Gann said, smiling at Kaldur, but the unsurety she was feeling bled into her voice.

“Good,” Kaldur said. M’Gann turned and flew out the door and down the hallway, to get ready for the mission. Connor followed behind, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. Kaldur watched them both leave and nodded at Artemis. “You go too. Keep an eye on them.”

“Oh come on! I don’t want to be the awkward third wheel, especially not in the middle of an argument!” She complained, but none-the-less getting up and walking after her teammates, hitting Wally with a glare on her way out.

“Dick, Wally and I will head to the second location, the Lex-Corp Warehouse.” Kaldur went on to explain. Dick and Wally bumped fists quietly, careful not to let there conflicting opinions get in the way of there friendship. They were appropriate like that. In fact, this was about the only way that they were.

Dick piped up. “I think that I’ve been there before. Batman took me on a mission once to bust a nuclear smuggling ring. Turns out Lex was dumping large amounts of nuclear waste containers into Gotham Docks as to not arouse suspicion. I thought it had been abandoned since then, why would ‘W’ choose to go there of all places?”

Kaldur shrugged. “We don’t know, but I have a feeling we will find out. Everyone else will stay here and be ready to act as the backup should we need it. We will regroup after the mission and discuss our options. Understood?” He said. The room looked around and nodded slowly. “Dismissed.” He finished, his team standing and filing out of the room to get ready for whatever the hell lay ahead for them.

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

I’m sorry about this guys, but I had to remove the links because tumblr is throwing a little bit of a tantrum in regards to links and NSFW content at the moment. As a result, me and many other creators are walking on eggshells until tumblr takes a fucking chill pill. As such there aren’t any links on this fic, but if you liked this and you want to see the rest of it, DM me and I’ll send you all the links to all the chapters I’ve written. Thanks guys and sorry again!

[theexaltedbride]

(Boredom, listening to Shadow on the Sun, and seeing not many people knew about it led me to wanting to write a random blurb for the tabletop rpg ‘Armageddon: End Time” (By Eden Studios) a setting where Heaven, Hell, old forgotten Gods, and most of humanity unite to fight against an Eldritch horror trying to rewrite reality by taking human souls and forcing humanity to worship it. None of the art is mine.)

The unholy one, puppet of Leviathan, the Dark Apostle, spreads his influence throughout the world, creating a violent, poisonous religion that forces others to join, or suffer. He proclaims the words of Leviathan, the only horror that could make even Satan feel fear. He takes the heart of all and turns them to the worship of an abomination beyond our worst imaginings, something that even God wanted banished from our universe.

But now his prophet has arrived, and the world itself is ready to rip itself apart and be devoured by Leviathan.

No one, not even the Angels, know if this was the first attempt, or exactly when Leviathan slipped into our world. But they do know that its influence was around even before the physical form of its prophet was born. it was slowly tipping things in its favor by causing madness, insanity, mass murders, shootings, hatred. It never forced people to do it, allowing them to damn themselves instead and slowly pushing the world to fall away from what it once was, helping Humanity to push its way away from its creators and into the arms of Leviathan as it spread its cults throughout the world, influencings powerful groups, CEOs, and gaining more power, until it was able to take over several countries and corporations, and begin its work. Making himself known throughout the world he performed unholy miracles, and made many fall for his own cult of personality, that they could worship him and give him and Leviathan more power. Eventually he established his own Church and made himself the head of it. The Church of Revelations.

In that time, before the war truly began, the Dark Prophet spread his influence and caused riots, anarchy, destabilization within many of the nations that could be a threat to its plans..then the war phase initiated as the Dark Prophet attacked. NATO was broken, Russia was sent into retreat, the allies fell back to England, while other nations were left destabilized with one issue or another. Soon, the Dark Apostle had taken Rome, and dared the Angels to kick him out of his territory, by killing the Pope and sending his soul to the mouth of Leviathan. 

Then the Angels came....and they lost. Hosts of Angels were killed before the eyes of the world and many decided to end their own lives then and there rather than see the endwar that came next. The world was in chaos, and it looked as if England would be the next nation to fall to Leviathan...until there was a crack of thunder, and lightning brought down enemy planes. Hope came in the form of Gods who were no longer worshipped, deciding to throw their lot in with humanity.

Even though the Angels had suffered a terrible loss, many other gods, spirits, and ancient sprites, had come to aid us, and give Humanity a fighting chance. Battlefields are now won by soldiers, Gods, Spirits, Angels and others fighting together against the drones, soldiers, and abominations of the Church of Revelations. 

(Some of the Angels are absolute show-offs. But at least it draws enemy fire on the battlefield, and they can certainly take a tank round and shrug it off. Most trust them more than they do Demons, even if the demons swear they are here to help.)

Most of Europe is gone. The Middle East is lost with only scattered bands of resistance fighters from all three Abrahamic faiths fighting to keep the light of hope alive, as the Dark Apostle squeezes his grip upon it and sings the praises of Leviathan. No one likes to talk about what goes on in occupied territory, monsters walking the streets, secret camps. Prayers being sent to Leviathan and bringing it ever closer to our world.

The Army of Revalation and its living nightmares have opened up other fronts now, in Africa, In Asia, (With China and India being that region’s best hope against the COR) and in South America, where the AoR is slowly but surely pushing its way up towards Mexico. The COR’s technology is advancing at an astonishing rate. In many ways, it seems as if we cannot keep up. Its obvious they are being given aid by a mind far superior to humans. Hacking attacks are common and force many Allied nations to go low tech to mitigate the damage, their planes outclass our own, they have monsters that can take on a tank singlehandedly and for the first time in its history, North America suffers air raids. At night Stealth bombers from the CoR assault the continent, and Allied air forces do their best to keep the enemy from striking civilian populations centers, but military installations and tactically important areas always get priority protection.

Around the globe we are fighting them tooth and nail, with many choosing death rather than surrender or capture, with everything we have. For the first time, nearly all of humanity is fighting under one banner. We fight under the auspices of the United Nations, but its really just a banner we can all get behind. 

We all know what is at stake. If we fail, we could be wiped out from existence, a complete species wide genocide. Or the Earth could be turned into a massive farm where Leviathan stuffs its maw full of human souls forever, unleashing horrors beyond comprehension, just for its own amusement.

But if that is to be our fate, then we are going to earn that torture by pissing off Leviathan as much as we can and fighting the CoR for every last scrap of land, air, and sea.

---------- Earth-2020.

Fighting occurs throughout the world, on many fronts. Food is becoming more difficult to get, and rationing is now standard, with some fighting over food coupons. No one wants to count how many have died fighting everywhere. 

A push by the Allied forced has seen heavy fighting in France, attempting to build up a buffer zone to keep Army of Revelation forces from further attacks on England. It has met with limited success. Resistance fighters in Germany are slowly beginning to steal technological secrets from the CoR and smuggle it out to Allies spies, with one lucky hacker managing to turn a flight of AoR drones against its own airbases.

Archangels duke it out in the skies with winged horrors and screaming nightmares, as Fighter Jets fly in support, and satellites are being aided by gods to keep up what ever advantage allied forces have. 

The battle in Asia is still a stalemate, as the COR desperately wants to take the entire region there, but North America has managed to push and liberate territory all the way to the Panama Canal. 

Things look grim, but there is still a chance. So long as a single spark of hope remains, we will not go quietly into the night.

There isn't much left now. People are hungry, cold, sick, uttering prayers to a God that might not be there, praying for just one more day, one more meal, for the Leviathan and its forces to be defeated.But all the same we do everything we can. We fight hem tooth and nail, every last man, woman child, very Angel, every Demon, every Spirit, and anything else that doesn't want to surrender the world to the Leviathan.

But something more is needed. A strike team of the best that each group (Humans, demons, Angels, old gods, spirits,) can offer. Something to help tip the balance with a variety of abilities. You could be part of that team, showing that together, with all our differences, we are stronger than the forces of Leviathan, and together we can banish that nightmare back to whatever hole it crawled out of. There is no shortage of ways you can help. No shortage of battlefields. 

Pick your team, pick your gear,  pick your battlefield, and do your best. We are all counting on you.

Rage, brothers and sisters of humanity. Rage against the Dying of the Light. Bring it back, and use the light to burn Leviathan.

(if nothing else, I hope you had a fun time reading this and managed to kill some time.)

[historyrepeatsitself]

honestly i was at a softball camp since like 7:30 this morning and I’m too tired to work on an edit or fanart or something but I did write this fanfic awhile back. This is technically a repost but it does fit with day 10 of doomsday. 

Technically this fanfic falls in between books 9 and 10-during Hiccup’s time living as an outcast for nearly a year. 

This is just the first story in a small collection of them I made. The full version can be viewed here

Missing Year: 

The trees seem to whisper in hushed tones before him, their branches waving ominously, creating shadows of monsters at his feet. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third shivered as a cold wind blew around him. This night was especially cold in the archipelago, Hiccup hoped it was even too cold for search parties, though just as a precaution he had blown out the fire and was now laying curled up inside the Windwalker's wings, waiting for another sleepless night. Toothless seemed the only one completely unaffected by the life of an outcast, his slept just as soundly as ever on Hiccup's chest, gently blowing small smoke rings up into the night. The Wodensfang slept beside Hiccup, he seemed to have just drifted off and was snoring quietly, his old shriveled body curled up against the cold. The Windwalker stood over all of them, his head curling around them, his eyes were closed and Hiccup could feel his breathing slowing into the steady hum of sleep. Hiccup leaned was leaned against the Windwalker's neck, using the soft scales as a pillow. He tried to follow the Windwalker's slow breathing, desperately trying to lure his body into sleep. Just as he was closing his eyes his heart gave a frantic pumping, jolting him upright again, his vision blurry from the lack of sleep.

Toothless seemed undisturbed by Hiccup's sudden movement and continued to sleep on, his small body much like a warm boulder against Hiccup. Hiccup wished he could sleep as soundly as Toothless, but his mind seemed to think something very different and elected to wander into the darkness. Hiccup strained his eyes and peered into the looming shadows of the shallow cave they were sleeping in and out into the forest surrounding them. The trees whispered their quiet song and Hiccup peering into their depths. Was that an Alvinsmen peering at him in the dark? Hiccup swore he could see a movement in the shadows. Were there more out there? Should he tell the others? Hiccup could feel his heart pounding faster and faster, his chest felt heavy and his breaths felt shorter. He panted, desperately trying to stay calm. Probably nothing. It's just my mind playing tricks on me.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," came a cool voice from the shadows, Hiccup jumped, desperately straining to see the speaker of the voice, he whirled desperately looking around the cave but there was no one. Impossible, Alvin must have a stealth dragon or something, he was here, Hiccup had heard him.

Hiccup shook as he gazed around the cave, should he wake Wodensfang? He would know what to do right? Would he be mad Hiccup had woken him up? Probably. What could he do anyway? They were alone.

Hiccup found himself shaking harder, he wished he were back on Berk, back home. He wished that he had just said goodnight to his father and was heading to bed, smuggling Toothless in his waistcoat. He wished that he was sitting in his own bed on Berk, Toothless asleep on his chest, as usual, a warm presence in the cold room. He wished that he could still hear the shouts of late night party goers heading home as he waited to fall asleep. He wished he could hear his father downstairs, maybe even his mother. He wished he could hear them talking, he wished he could hear the wood floors creaking with their footsteps.

But that was gone. Berk had been burned to the ground by Furious' troops, Hiccup's childhood home was nothing more than a couple splinters now. He tore his mind away from the thoughts, desperately trying to focus on the current problem.

There was someone here, there had to be, Hiccup had heard someone. But the more Hiccup peered into the darkness the more he felt that the voices and movement had been a figment of his imagination. He should sleep. It was late, Hiccup worried that the sun was only a few hours away from reaching the horizon. He laid his head down on Windwalker's tail and closed his eyes desperately trying to sleep.

To his relief, the world slowly faded to blackness as Hiccup closed his eyes. He could feel his breathing slowing into the slow drone of sleep. But the calming darkness didn't stay for very long. Soon fire consumed him, his entire body felt hot, he looked down and saw that his legs had been consumed in a bright red flame, its fingers grabbing at his ratty old fire suit; it barely served as clothes anymore, the old suit was torn badly all over, the sleeves barely even existent. It was so worn out it offered little protection against the flame. Hiccup tried to move but found that he was tied to a tall wooden mast that was standing in the middle of the fire, slowly burning with him. Heavy metal chains were wrapped around the boy, their cold gray slowly turning to an orange as the flame burned brighter and brighter. Hiccup struggled, desperately trying to creep out from the chains but they held fast.

He frantically scanned the world around him looking for someone to help but all he was greeted with was a plane of fire. He screamed, desperately crying for help. "Fishlegs? Camicazi? Toothless? Wodensfang? Windwalker?" he yelled out into the blaze, but there was no response.

He could feel himself blacking out from the heat, his skin burning in the fire. But just before the world faded he heard a voice, "They're gone," whispered the cold voice. "They're dead." There was cackle from behind him and he felt a hand close around his throat.

"Soon you'll be joining them." Came another voice, higher pitched and female. Hiccup knew that voice; the Witch. 

"Goodbye, Hiccup." Said Alvin above the crackling fire.

"NO!" Hiccup yelled, struggling against Alvin's grasp. "NO, NO, NO!"

But the burning inferno was gone. They were gone. Everything was gone.

"Hiccup!" He felt a claw against his face, "Hiccup!" came the voice again. "Hiccup wake up!"

Hiccup opened his eyes, the Wodensfang was crouched over him, his old wrinkled brown face riddled with concern. The Windwalker hovered above him, his brow creased in soft lines of concern and Toothless sat on Hiccup's chest, his large green eyes staring directly into Hiccup's blue. Toothless' eyes looked large and scared, in the dimly lit cave, they seemed to emanate a soft green light. "H-h-hiccup? Are you a-a-alright?" his stammer seemed more prominent than normal as he spoke. His small body appearing to quiver and Hiccup wondered if it was because of him.

"Yes Toothless, I'm alright." Hiccup said shakily, though he could still feel the fire against his skin.

"Are you quite sure, Hiccup?" Wodensfang's old voice seemed to have a bit of a quiver of its own. "You seemed quite ill only a moment ago…" The old dragon trailed off as he looked at Hiccup his eyes seeming to darken with an unknown understanding.

Even the Windwalker, though he said nothing seemed to be worried about Hiccup. Hiccup himself wondered what he had done to cause them to worry so much. "Guys I'm alright." He whispered, desperately trying to keep his voice level, "Really, I just had a bad dream, I didn't mean to wake you all."

"B-b-but you d-did." Said Toothless, looking at him with those big green eyes, "Y-you woke us up because of s-s-something's wrong. T-toothless knows it." Hiccup smiled weakly as Toothless seemed to be doing his very best to console him.

"Toothless, I'm okay. There's no need to worry, really. It was just a bad dream."

"Hiccup," said Wodensfang slowly, "We've been out here nearly six months." Again, the old dragon seemed to trail off in a sense of worry.

"And?" asked Hiccup

"Hiccup you've been alone for six months, on the run, practically trapped in a cave!" Wodensfang exclaimed with worry.

"I haven't been alone," said Hiccup, "You all are here."

"Yes, but you haven't been with other Vikings in ages, Hiccup. Is that even normal for a human? Hiccup, humans are different than dragons!" Wodensfang seemed to be heading into one of his fits.

"It's fine Wodensfang, besides it's not like we can really go anywhere." He laughed, a bit sarcastically, and Wodensfang raised an eyebrow at Hiccup's exclamation.

"Hiccup I'm worried. Honestly, this situation is by no means good for anyone but humans are very different than dragons and I worry that you're going to be sick Hiccup. It's no surprise to anyone that this is the most stressful on you and being under that kind of pressure and torment for that long isn't good for anyone." Wodensfang was nearly hopping up and down in agitation at this point. All his spines were on edge with worry.

"Humans shouldn't be alone."

They all turned the find the source of the voice. It was Windwalker who had spoken, his voice was soft and filled with a worry brought on by memories. "Back on the Lava-Lout islands, they had a few jailers there, Vikings to control us dragons. Many left and soon there was only one left, he stayed with us and tried to control us, he tried to keep the other prisoners there too. But as the months turned into years he started to go crazy. It was slow, but eventually he-he- "the Windwalker stammered, his voice growing softer, "he slit his own throat and then we were alone.

"I left shortly after that, many of the remaining prisoners did. The island was abandoned for many years, of course then Alvin the Treacherous took over a few years later—but you already know that story." The Windwalker shook as he finished the story. Clearly, the words were bringing back harsh memories.

Hiccup gulped, he had never known that the jailkeeper had gone insane. He shuddered the think what it must've been like on that island. "But he couldn't speak Dragonese, right Wodensfang?" Hiccup asked, his voice growing soft in the early hours of the day.

"No." The Windwalker admitted, "but he wasn't being hunted by the entire archipelago either."

"Windwalker has a point," said Wodensfang after a long time. "We're worried, Hiccup. We know that something is wrong and it's okay." Hiccup shrugged weakly, though the burned sensation had worn off he still felt weakened since the dream.

"I just—I miss home I guess." He mumbled, "I miss Berk, I miss my father, I even miss Gobber's classes! I miss having to get up and go out in the freezing cold to go fail at being a Viking. I miss Fishlegs, I miss sitting with him after class. I miss having days off and taking Toothless to go play with Fishlegs and Horrowcow. I miss visiting wild dragon cliff. I miss writing. I miss trying to study dragons. I miss early mornings before the sun had risen and during the spring I could sit on our steps and watch it rise in the east. I miss Camicazi's stupid and crazy ideas. I miss Fishlegs' sarcasm. I miss going to the Meathead Public Library. I miss trying to surf in the ocean with Fishlegs and Camicazi. I miss—I miss Berk!" Hiccup hadn't realized he was crying until Toothless used his wing to wipe a tear from Hiccup's cheek.

"It's going to be okay, Hiccup," said Wodensfang quietly.

"It always is," whispered Windwalker, a small smile creeping across his face.

"If it isn't it's not the e-e-end." Stammered Toothless, his large eyes looking up into Hiccup's face, they seemed to shine with sympathy and Hiccup held the small dragon in his arms and for once Toothless let the sign of compassion go. He licked Hiccup's cheek with his warm pink tongue.

Wodensfang sat on Hiccup's lap, he patted it gently with his wing. Windwalker sneaked his long neck around the trio encircling them in warmth. His head rested near Hiccup and he used the opportunity to give Hiccup a gentle lick on his face. Hiccup smiled at Windwalker, some color restoring to his pale face.

The four stayed like that, watching the morning sun come up slowly over the East. For a moment, there was no rebellion, there was no danger. It was just a morning on Berk; a beautiful sun chasing the darkness away.

[tinklegem]

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[dabbledrabbleprose]

Would 4 with zenyatta and junkrat be okay? I don't find a lot of works with those two in it, and when I do it always just becomes junkrat being pulled off zen or genji be someone bigger

Great prompt, anon! I had a lot of fun with this one, and it was great getting a chance to write these two! Enjoy!

Read on AO3

“We’re designed to be disposable.”

 It was only for one month, Winston had assuredthe agents currently residing at Watchpoint Gibraltar. Their demolitionsexpertise and familiarity with the Australian Outback would be essential forthe upcoming mission. The alliance was definitely a temporary one. Despite hisreassurances, the majority of the recalled Overwatch agents had been quick toprotest hiring the two wanted criminals Mako “Roadhog” Rutledge and Jamison “Junkrat”Fawkes. They were dangerous, unhinged, and the exact opposite of what the newOverwatch was supposed to be. Desperate times called for desperate measures,Winston had solemnly stated amid the protests. In the meantime, it wasrecommended that the team find a good balance between keeping an eye on theunscrupulous duo and also not upsetting them enough that they would considerbailing on the mission. Or something else even more…unpredictable.

The dynamic pair hadn’t made it two days beforethey had caused an altercation. Zenyatta had been in the communal recreationroom when the pair had made their opinions on the continued existence of omnicsquite clear, with the heavily implication that Zenyatta would look significantlybetter in pieces scattered in a scrapyard. Zenyatta had been quite flatteredwhen all present had sprung to his defense, and had been grateful that theJunkers had decided to retreat instead of escalate the situation further,though they left with a very clear parting threat as to Zenyatta’s wellbeing.

Ever since, a member of the team had been byhis side, day or night, serving as his unspoken, unofficial bodyguard. They haddone their best to make it seem innocuous, of course. Lena begging that Zentell her everything about the monastery in Nepal, Lucio asking him to sit andlisten to his new compositions, Hana insisting that he simply must watch the new video game she wasplaying, all carefully calculated so that Zenyatta was never once left alone.And Genji, bless him, his brightest student and dearest friend was with him sooften he had become a second shadow.

Zenyatta was honored, truly he was, that hisnew and old friends cared so deeply about his safety, but after a solid week ofpersistent companionship, their constant attentions were becoming a bit…much. Itwas when Genji had become stressed enough by the whole situation that hestarted having trouble sleeping that Zenyatta decided enough was finallyenough. Avoiding a problem didn’t solve it, and he had always been willing towelcome some adversity in his life.

Besides, Tekhartha Zenyatta could take care ofhimself, thank you very much.

He was able to slip away from hisself-proclaimed guards when Fareeha had left him alone to change into her gymclothes. Zen would have to apologize to her later, and suggest that perhaps agame of basketball would be more fun with two small teams, instead of one onone with the two of them. Genji was hopefully getting some much needed rest,but Zen took care to avoid their usual meditation spots, just in case. Instead,he passed conspicuously by the garage that the Junkers had claimed as theirown, preferring to camp out by their motorcycle instead of stay inside theWatchpoint’s spare bedrooms with everyone else. He took his time, making itclear that he was alone, then went to meditate by the cliff side, overlookingthe sea.

It was fourteen minutes before Zen’s audiosensors heard the telltale sound of a rat come sniffing at the bait, thoughthere was no sign of his porcine friend. The man seemed to be making an attemptat stealth, but his improvised peg leg and the muffled sound of repressed manicgiggling did little to assist him.

“I dearly hope that you are here to meditatewith me,” Zenyatta stated calmly, turning his head to watch Junkrat from thecorner of his optics. “It would be a most pleasant surprise and I would enjoythe change in company.”

“Only one got one surprise for you, y’piece ofjunk!” he crowed. He clutched some sort of home-made grenade launcher in hishands and cackled as the device lobbed an apple-sized spherical explosive atZenyatta. The sphere appeared to have no fuse, likely designed to explode onimpact, so Zen twisted his metal body to one side, as graceful as a dancer, andlet the bomb sail past him and over the edge of the cliff, a painted smileyface beaming at Zen as it flew past and vanished into the sea far below.

“A well-aimed shot,” Zen commented, watchingthe explosion unfurl beneath the waves, the splash of water still dwarfed bythe vast size and scope of the ocean. “If I had not moved, that likely wouldhave struck my chest.”

“There’s more where that came from!” Withanother manic laugh, Junkrat launched a whole volley of explosives at him, bombafter bomb launching toward him, some aimed impeccably directly at him, othersflung wildly to either side of him, making the entire cliff side dangerous.

Zenyatta flowed like water around the grenades,gracefully avoiding the bombs flung his way until he found three coming at himat once, just far enough apart that he couldn’t dodge all three. Withoutbreaking form, he dodged the first, then reached out and caught the other two,one bomb in each hand, spinning as he did so, redirecting their energy and keepingtheir momentum going so they wouldn’t register the catch as an impact totrigger. After a complete spin, his orbs twirling around his neck with him, hereleased the explosives, sending the last two flying out toward the sea.

Junkrat scowled at him, frag launcher empty. “Oi.Ain’t you supposed to be some kind of monk? Didn’t think you’d put up this muchof a fight.”

Zen settled back into a relaxed position, legstucked up beneath him as he floated idly. “As much as I appreciate youroptimistic opinion of my pacifism, I must admit I am quite proficient in theart of Tai chi, meeting Yin with Yang and redirecting the flow of negativeenergy. Now that you appear to be out of ammunition, would you care to join me?The view is quite lovely.”

The Junker appeared less than inclined toaccept his invitation, giving a snarl instead and lunging for him, metal fistleading. It would have been easy to slide out of the way, but then Junkratwould have been following his bombs over the edge of the cliff, and Zen trulywished no ill upon the agitated man. Instead he deflected the punch with onearm, catching the back of Junkrat’s soot-stained head and helped to guide hismomentum in a direction that sent the man off balance. After that, it was aneasy motion to get him to pivot on his peg leg and make him lose his balanceentirely, sending him sprawling onto his back with a soft thump.

“I would humbly request that we end this beforeone of us does something regrettable.” Zenyatta hummed softly. “If you wouldlike, you may join me for meditation. Otherwise, you are welcome to follow yourown path, provided that it does not involve either of us going over the edge ofthis cliff.”

Junkrat was somewhat less calm.

“You’re junk, you know that?” The man spatvenomously from the ground. “You’re just floating trash, waiting to find yourscrapheap! Garbage! You’re a model of millions, designed to be disposable!”

Zenyatta eased backward, giving the Junker thespace to stand, if he chose.

“An interesting observation,” he remarked,redirecting the words as easily as the punch. “Are we not all designed to bedisposable?”

“Wot are you going on about?” Junkrat grumbled,getting to his feet.

“You are quite correct. I was initially builtas a service drone, to be used and replaced once I became irrelevant, or once Ihad outlived my usefulness.” Zen inclined his head, giving Junkrat a closelook. “Does the same not apply to you, Mr. Fawkes? What happened when theAustralian omnium exploded, destroying your home? Did your government not decideyou were disposable and abandon you?”

“Oi, who needs a government anyway?” Junkrathalf-heartedly brushed the dirt from his already dirty clothes. “A little anarchynever hurt nobody.”

“And what of your safe haven?” Zen pressed. “Didyour queen think you were disposable when she banished you to the wastes?”

Junkrat looked up at him sharply, eyesnarrowing. “Now, how do you know about that?”

“We are all designed to be disposable under thehands of those who wish to control us,” the monk continued, breezing past thequestion. “However, it is the destiny we choose for ourselves that makes us whowe are and who we will become. We are only as disposable as we allow ourselvesto be.”

A look of confusion crossed Junkrat’s face.

“You seem to have found some purpose with yourexpertise in demolitions. As for myself, once I embraced the teachings of theIris-”

Confusion turned to rage as something insideJunkrat snapped.

“You can take your bloody Iris and get stuffed,you drongo!” The Junker turned on his good heel and stormed away withoutanother word, leaving Zenyatta staring after him with surprise.

Alas. It was unfair to try and teach a fish tofly, and it seemed the same held true with rats. Zen watched his retreatingback curiously, wondering what exactly set him off, and if he could still finda way to help the complicated man during his brief stay. With a sigh ofwhirring cybernetics, he turned back to the sea, grateful for the opportunityto get some restful meditation at last.

 Epilogue:

Bloody piece of scrap. Who does he think he is?Trying to act all chummy and confusing before pulling out that load of toshabout the Iris? Junkrat was no fool. He’d been in the ruins of the destroyedomnium before the Junkers looted it to hell and back. He’d looked into theheart of the Iris and seen it for what it really was.

Omnics couldn’t be trusted. The Iris couldn’tbe trusted. Anyone who did was in for a rude awakening. Junkrat would be therewhen it happened.

There was always profit to be made in chaos.

[shovelthefries]

🅰️ll 🅾️f theⓂ️

1: Namealex2: Agetwenty one pilots minus three3: 3 Fearshaving to install ubunturunning out of gaseverything on my hard drive getting corrupted, because that would mean reinstalling ubuntu 4: 3 things I lovedogs, drones, and bikes!5: 4 turns onconfidence, really good hair, a ticket to PyCon 2018, mccree6: 4 turns offwhen someone presses the power button again, all four of them7: My best friendhigh exarch turalyon8: Sexual orientationbi(cycle)9: My best first datewhat counts as a date10: How tall am Ifive even, i'm pretty useful in the home depot lumber section11: What do I missbeing in the robotics shop12: What time were I born6:12 pm, an unholy number 13: Favorite colorbloo14: Do I have a crushi think so 15: Favorite quote"everything dies, baby that's a factbut maybe everything that dies some day comes back"16: Favorite placeanywhere that i can pass out on17: Favorite foodnoodles, but also i had a really good brisket sandwich at my dad's place today it was like a healthy burger18: Do I use sarcasmno not at all19: What am I listening to right nowatlantic city by bruce springsteen the boss20: First thing I notice in new personif i can take them in a fight 21: Shoe sizesix but if you pay me, i can go up to a twelve 22: Eye colorbrown, apparently one that is abnormal for asians23: Hair colormidnight caramel24: Favorite style of clothingmessy, it's actually the new fad25: Ever done a prank call?no because i lose my shit in the first five seconds27: Meaning behind my URLits what i called the cheval de fries defense in 2016 because I'm Funny28: Favorite movieterminator 2 probably29: Favorite songthunder road but if it wasn't springsteen i'd probably say wish you were here/the final cut by pink floyd or read my mind by the killers. but listen that's like making me choose between my children30: Favorite banduGH what did I just say, pink floyd is up there i guess31: How I feel right nowtired, headachey, racing against hypothetical julia in answering this ask32: Someone I lovealleria windrunner33: My current relationship statustaken like bacon34: My relationship with my parentsits gotten better for sure35: Favorite holidayfourth of july because its warm36: Tattoos and piercing i havei'm bare and unstabbed37: Tattoos and piercing i wanti probably want a tattoo but idk what38: The reason I joined Tumblrprobably pjo fanart39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?well i certainly don't hate them40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?i get steaks, uchicago kid tells me good night after his last lame bot game of league41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?don't think i've kissed joseph42: When did I last hold hands?today, a few hours ago43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?not long if you don't count actually getting up44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days?what is hair45: Where am I right now?my bed46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?either emma or art major au hanzo 47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?well i like having working eardrums 48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?hell yeah i do49: Am I excited for anything?really excited to go to work and have no one be there tomorrow50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?yeah 51: How often do I wear a fake smile?i'm always wearing a fake smile52: When was the last time I hugged someone?probably today53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?depends on the situation 54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?probably not i'd cut it off by now55: What is something I disliked about today?the rain was being a dickhole56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?i think we already know the answer57: What do I think about most?what i should be doing58: What’s my strangest talent?i have no talents 59: Do I have any strange phobias?yeah 60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?i prefer to eat the camera61: What was the last lie I told?"dark souls is a good game"62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?i hear carrier pigeons are making a comeback63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?ghosts? possible. aliens? yeah.64: Do I believe in magic?yeah i exist65: Do I believe in luck?no but my moms superstitions has made me paranoid of it66: What's the weather like right now?shitty and wet 67: What was the last book I've read?inheritance, again68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?not really69: Do I have any nicknames?alex is a particularly infamous one70: What was the worst injury I've ever had?either when i burned myself or when i found out my ubuntu installation didn't come with backlights71: Do I spend money or save it?hmmmmmm72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?i can touch my lip with my tongue 73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?yeah there's my pink work shirt74: Favorite animal?tiger75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?probably vacuuming76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?Adobe Experience Manager77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?born to run 78: How can you win my heart?tolerate me79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?"please rez me"80: What is my favorite word?pachyderm81: My top 5 blogs on tumblruh i dont even know the blog names anymore 82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?good night i am sleepy83: Do I have any relatives in jail?probably some in china84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?flying like a stealth drone, so that i go at supersonic speeds and i'm also invisible85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?"have you been giving it your all"86: What is my current desktop picture?an alliance human and an orc duking it out87: Had sex?ye88: Bought condoms?no89: Gotten pregnant?pregnant with my dreams!!90: Failed a class?not officially91: Kissed a boy?almost92: Kissed a girl?i believe so93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?its happened i think94: Had job?many job95: Left the house without my wallet?not recently since i got my license96: Bullied someone on the internet?i don't have the time for that97: Had sex in public?nope98: Played on a sports team?robotics is a SPORT FOR THE MIND99: Smoked weed?first where would i get it100: Did drugs?nop101: Smoked cigarettes?n o p102: Drank alcohol?the ask meme got me there, yeah103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?i don't think i could live104: Been overweight?no105: Been underweight?yeah 106: Been to a wedding?no 107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?try ten hours108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?hm no109: Been outside my home country?yes #worldtraveler110: Gotten my heart broken?when the assassins creed revelations trailer came out and it ends with ezio's aged face being revealed i started crying111: Been to a professional sports game?that's too much112: Broken a bone?the bone that held my happiness113: Cut myself?nopee114: Been to prom?i had a date with my calculus workbook 115: Been in airplane?yes unfortunately 116: Fly by helicopter?no but it will happen117: What concerts have I been to?none concerts 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?hm idk119: Learned another language?yeah technically 120: Wore make up?i prefer my ugly vanilla look thank you very much121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?i guess yeah 122: Had oral sex?never performed it 123: Dyed my hair?like a phoenix, and then a passionate robotics member124: Voted in a presidential election?i was basically a baby in the eyes of the law before i could125: Rode in an ambulance?noooo126: Had a surgery?once as a baby, now as a mature adult who needed their wisdom teeth taken out127: Met someone famous?hell ye128: Stalked someone on a social network?nichols before i became friends with him129: Peed outside?very likely130: Been fishing?yeah it was fun131: Helped with charity?yeeee132: Been rejected by a crush?this implies that i take initiative133: Broken a mirror?twice due to somersaults134: What do I want for birthday?a cd with all my spotify music burned onto it