#if their dislike of each other hadn’t been effectively manufactured

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Something something the volumes it speaks that the Darkling felt the need to put Zoya and Alina in competition with each other and put them against each other from the moment they met so that they wouldn’t be able to immediately acknowledge what was being done to them and unite against him something something

[etirabys]

mercantilism and the humane state

All I remember about mercantilism from my world history classes in middle and high school are “and then they started trading a lot”. Azar Gat says in War in Human Civilization that it was a lot more important than that – mercantilism was when an entirely new build (in the game sense) of nations arose, forcing less competitive nations using the old build to switch over to the new build, with the concomitant social changes.

Although pre-industrial European economy remained predominantly agrarian, mastery over markets of a global scale and a growing manufacturing sector, which prospered by virtue of that mastery, became a very significant source of wealth, of a more liquid sort than previously known. ... The states that won out in the contest for domination over global trade secured the resources that made them strong in the European power struggle. ...

Whereas earlier in history power brought wealth, while wealth translated into power more equivocally, wealth and power were becoming increasingly interchangeable. No longer was there such a thing as a poor strong power. Consequently, to survive, power had to serve the interests of the producing and trading economy, and the more it did so the more power was generated. Any shackles put on social wealth creation by the state’s political and military elite only undermined the power of that elite in competition with other states. For the first time in history parasitic warrior states and warrior elites were falling behind economically productive states and elites in terms of power.

As I understand it, the old build (used by the most powerful states pre-mercantilism) works something like this. You’re a state, probably ruling over disparate populations who don’t see themselves as one people, and your purpose is to maintain your borders, tax the agrarian peasants within those territories, give them enough social goods so they won’t rebel, maintain enough of an (expensive!) horse warrior elite that can keep peace within the realm and quickly move around the border to repel invasions. The more cooperative geography is (as in China, but not in Western Europe) the larger and more successful a state you can build.

Or the other winning build: you’re the horse warrior nomads who are responsible for a lot of the border incursions. You have a pretty good life because you move around a lot and can hit a variety of locations on the border of the local wealthy state (and they can’t strike back at you because you don’t have a fixed location where you keep your stuff) and extort them for tribute.

In neither of these builds is trade important for staying in power. Despots ruling over centralized empires, in times of need, tended to loot temples or merchants or – if you could get away with it – aristocracy fallen out of favor. Merchants were never the source of wealth anyway, not while trade was of a pre-global scale – the agrarian populace was. You could impose heavy taxes on them or loot them outright and it was approximately fine. Your state build didn’t depend on them. It is the sixteenth century, and things seem like they’re going well, same as they have in the last two thousand years.

Meanwhile, the Western European nations that won at the naval exploration & global trade thing are getting fantabulously wealthy, and using that wealth to build their armies and invest in advanced tech like guns (which amplify the power of navies). Other states like China could have gotten there first (and it’s not really clear to me why they didn’t):

After Cheng Huo returned from east Africa in 1433, the Ming decided to dismantle their advanced fleet of ocean-going junks and banned further long-range voyages. State funded, these voyages had been costly and their rewards dubious. A renewed nomadic threat from the north directed the imperial government’s attention and resources elsewhere. Nor was long-range naval activity allowed to proceed in private hands and along more commercial lines, because the despotic Chinese state with its Confucian mandarin bureaucracy disliked and suspected trade, traders, and independent capital.

(I recall from James C Scott’s Against the Grain that one reason old agrarian states hated merchants is that they, unlike farmers whose primary assets ripen at predictable times of the year for tax collectors to descend upon, can move around and hide their wealth.)

Using their newfound wealth and productivity, the Western European states waged wars on each other. States that hadn't hooked themselves into the wealth-power feedback loop lost out. Gat emphasizes how important military struggles were to propagating the new system – reforms to make a country more trade-ready were forced on nations because they could not otherwise keep up. Suddenly you had to be nice to your merchants. No looting them whenever you’re short on money! – they’ll flee your country and take important capital. Prussia and Russia – autocratic centralized states without much of an aristocracy-poised-to-become-merchants class like England – had to force a merchant class into being, alongside a state bureaucracy for industry to hang on.

(Much less confident about the following parts because the parts I’m summarizing took place in a boring stretch I hated reading. If I force myself to reread it I’ll clarify my understanding in a reblog of this post.)

The way Azar Gat tells it, the transformation of a state from mostly an entity that exists to extract surplus from the population (he memorably called Assyria “a highly developed looting and extortion machine”) to an entity that exists to takes care of its citizens happened after the new, trade-oriented state build took over.

Indeed, growing modernization necessarily drove [Russia and Prussia] into intractable domestic tensions and contradictions, conflicting with and undermining the authority of the autocratic regime and traditional agrarian elite that ruled these societies. Modernization increasingly forced them to incorporate wider segments of society into the state in order to remain competitive in the economic cum military race.

(And he thinks the Western European states won the ‘discover the new market-based build’ round because the “wider segments of society were incorporated into the state” process had already happened there more than in centralized imperial states like China – for historic reasons I don’t understand well, Europe had much relatively decentralized states with a strong aristocracy that the monarchs had to compromise with more often to get things done.)

Switching over to a market-based build made it sometimes, somewhat, advantageous to give more citizens more rights. They’re more economically productive. It turns out they make better soldiers when they buy into the project of having a state. There’s a bit about how, around and after the French Revolution – when the “everyone should have rights” thing has really sunk in – the French army is more effective than you’d expect given its size, because they have much better morale and less desertion.

I don’t know how correct this story is! I’m sure even very well read people argue a lot about it. But the Big Idea here is fascinating:

States, everywhere, for most of history, were big extraction machines from the citizenry for the benefit of the rulers. The more the geography aided this extraction, as in China, the stronger the apparatus that moved resources up the chain. The exceptions came in states where that apparatus was weak, which were more prepared to move away from the local optimum when a new opportunity came by. Somehow there was some technological/material change that triggered the spread of a new system of ruling, in which where optimizing straightforwardly for extraction happened to trade off against acquiring wealth and power. And only then did states sometimes become an entity whose purpose was to provide for its people rather than funnel resources up to the ruling class.

We have something good – the idea and reality of states that exist largely to provide for its people – and it came so... so accidentally, as the consequence of a little avalanche that carelessly reorganized some feature of material reality.

[a-dandelion-dreamer]

Word Wanderings Post #1 – The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

This is the beginning of a reread. I’ve loved this author for years and The Raven Cycle is a particular favourite of mine. Please note that if you haven’t read this book, this post will definitely contain spoilers!

The Raven Boys is the first book in a quartet and juggles a multitude of characters, including our four main characters (Gansey, Ronan, Adam and Blue) and our plus one (Noah). While it does have some external conflict, it is mainly driven by the characters and their relationships with one another. This book is complex and dense with detail, with a structure that is a little unusual. Most books or series have a driving hook that catches readers right at the beginning and is the selling tagline. For example, in the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan, it’s Percy finding out he’s secretly a demigod, which directly turns into monsters attacking him and his mom disappearing. In the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, it’s the existence of a game that forces children to fight to the death and then subsequently Katniss volunteering to take her sister’s place at the Reaping. In Six of Crows, it’s a crew of six misfits embarking upon an impossible heist.

Ostensibly, the hook of this book is that Blue is destined to kill her true love with a kiss. That’s what it says on the back of the book, and it’s certainly an overarching threat present for the rest of the series. Tied in as well is Gansey’s search for Glendower, a sleeping king Gansey believes is buried somewhere on a ley line. This is another whole-series thread. The real heart of the story, however, is the boys and Blue and their friendship and their interactions with the other messy pieces of their lives and their search to find meaning and happiness. This type of storytelling is not for everyone, especially those who might enjoy more action-driven tales, but it’s the kind of storytelling I love.

(And in writing and other personal creative projects, I think it’s important to let what you love drive you forwards).

Here are three points I took away from reading this book:

 Point #1: Keeping readers interested by embedding small mysteries

The trick is to make your readers want to know what happens next. This is something I have trouble with and therefore I’m particularly interested in seeing how other books handle it.

Each chapter in this book is written from a different character’s perspective. I’ll include the first and last lines (which I think are brilliantly done) in the form: (first line/last line). Following that, I’ll describe some mysteries that the chapter raises.

Prologue: Blue (“Blue Sargent had forgotten how many times she’d been told that she would kill her true love.”/”’You’re Maura’s daughter,’ Neeve said, and before Blue could answer, she added, “this is the year you’ll fall in love.’”) – pg. 1-4

We’re introduced to the idea that Blue will kill her true love if she kisses him

Which immediately raises the question: who is he? And how does she get from being determined not to fall in love to killing someone with a kiss?

We learn about Blue’s psychic family, which I think is super interesting

Blue’s half-aunt Neeve comes to town and really hits us with that: “This is the year you’ll fall in love.” Pay attention, that line says.

Chapter 1: Blue (“It was freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrived.”/“’There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve, Blue. Either you’re his true love,’ Neeve said, ‘or you killed him.’”) – pg.  5-16

Blue and Neeve watch for the future dead

Blue, the only non-psychic in her family, sees a spirit for the first time

The guy she’s destined to kill or fall in love with (or both)

His name is Gansey, and now we’re wondering who he is

Chapter 2: Gansey (“’It’s me,’ said Gansey.”/”’That seems obvious,’ he answered. ‘We find out who you were talking to.’”) – pg. 17-28

Brilliant cut to Gansey

This guy is very real and because of the previous scene, we want to know who he is

We learn about his quest, which adds another layer of mystery

Gansey also heard Blue, on his recorder, so now he’s wondering about her

We ask ourselves: how will these two meet?

Also, introduces Gansey’s friends Adam and Ronan

Ronan has a tumultuous relationship with his brother Declan

THEY HAVE A NUMBER FOR A PSYCHIC (guess who belongs to a psychic family)

Chapter 3: Blue (“Mornings at 300 Fox Way were fearful, jumbled things.”/”’Blue,’ Maura said finally. ‘I don’t have to tell you not to kiss anyone, right?’”) – pgs. 29-37

Introduces Blue’s house

Introduces Blue’s relationship with her mother Maura

Neeve scries and learns that something is strange about Henrietta

Again, we wonder how Blue and Gansey will meet. And also, is it possible to save Gansey from his fate?

Chapter 4: Adam (“Adam Parrish had been Gansey’s friend for eighteen months, and he knew that certain things came along with that friendship.”/”’Excelsior’, said Gansey, and shut the door behind them.”) – pg. 38-51

Introduces Monmouth Manufacturing

Delves further into Gansey’s quest (will Gansey find what he’s looking for?)

Adam is suspicious that someone is spying on their search

Develops tension between Ronan and Declan

Chapter 5: Whelk (“Barrington Whelk was feeling less than sprightly as he slouched down the hall of Whitman House, the Aglionby admin building.”/”It was possible that Czerny’s death wasn’t for nothing after all.”) – pg. 52-56

Adam was suspicious in the previous chapter and now here’s Whelk, being suspicious

What is this guy’s deal?

Whelk hears Gansey is researching ley lines and suddenly gets very interested

Who is Czerny and how did he die?

Chapter 6: Blue (“Blue wouldn’t really describe herself as a waitress.”/”Neeve had to be wrong. She’d never fall in love with one of them.”) – pg. 57-64

Blue goes to work at Nino’s, the same place Gansey and his crew are going

Blue’s mother calls: Gansey has scheduled a reading

THEY MEET! This is great. They meet and they both dislike each other. They immediately conflict and neither realizes the other is the person they’re looking for.

The dramatic irony is fantastic

Adam is interested in Blue and Blue is a little bit interested in him

How does Blue end up liking Gansey, who she currently hates?

Truly, a mystery

WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THE TWO MEET AGAIN AT THE PSYCHIC READING???

I could do this for the whole book, but you get the picture. There’s always something the reader is left wondering, even if it’s something small, or a future interaction they’re looking forwards to.

A note: this is particularly effective when it’s tied to personal agency. You want to see what your characters will do, and this means more if you have dynamic characters who make choices.

 Point #2: Atmosphere and memorable locations

Another big strength of this book is the personality that it imbues its settings with. Take three examples: 300 Fox Way, Monmouth Manufacturing and Cabeswater.

 300 Fox Way – the chaotic, full-to-the-brim house where Blue lives with her mom and her aunt and her mom’s two best friends Persephone and Calla and a multitude of other psychic women, all showcased through background details. I love this house and its aesthetic.

              Quote: “Mornings at 300 Fox Way were fearful, jumbled things. Elbows in sides and lines for the bathroom and people snapping over tea bags placed into cups that already had tea bags in them. There was school for Blue and work for some of the more productive (or less intuitive) aunts. Toast got burned, cereal went soggy the refrigerator door hung open and expectant for minutes at a time. Keys jingled as car pools were hastily decided.” – pg 29

 Monmouth Manufacturing – the abandoned factory that Gansey, Ronan and Noah have made their home. They live on the upper floor and the description of the space really doubles as a character portrait for Gansey. Use settings to reveal and further describe your characters!

              Quote: “The high ceiling soared above them, exposed iron beams holding up the roof. Gansey’s invented apartment was a dreamer’s laboratory. The entire second floor, thousands of square feet, spread out before them. Two of the walls were made up of old windows—dozens of tiny, warped panes, except for a few clear ones Gansey had replaced—and the other two walls were covered with maps: the mountains of Virginia, of Wales, of Europe. Marker lines arced across each of them. Across the floor, a telescope peered at the Western sky; at its feet lay piles of arcane electronics meant to measure magnetic activity.

              And everywhere, everywhere, there were books. Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed. Some of the books weren’t in English. Some of the books were dictionaries for the languages that some of the other books were in. Some of the books were actually Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editions.” – pg 41

 Cabeswater — a magical, sentient forest. I love this forest so much. I love the overall portrayal of magic in this series and this forest is my favourite example of that. The trees speak Latin, time is fluid and sometimes the very air manifests your thoughts, so keep a watch on them.

              Quote: “The stream trickled sluggishly out of the woods from between two diamond-barked dogwoods. With Gansey in the lead, they all followed the water into the trees. Immediately, the temperature dropped several degrees. Blue hadn’t realized how much insect noise there was in the field until it was replaced by occasional birdsong under the trees. This was a beautiful, old wood, all massive oak and ash trees finding footing among great slabs of cracked stone. Ferns sprang from rocks and verdant moss grew up the sides of the tree trunks. The air itself was scented with green and growing and water. The light was golden through the leaves. Everything was alive, alive.” – pg 219

 What can I take away from this? Using small, specific details to make a setting unique and memorable can add atmosphere to your novel, showcase characters and make a reader fall in love with a particular place.

 Point #3: Evolving arcs

This story contains a lot of interwoven plot threads. This can be hard to balance (I know from personal experience) but I think this novel pulls it off. It’s very, very good at doing many things at once. The important thing to think about is a beginning, middle and end for different story arcs that you introduce. Here’s one example (of many) from this book.

 Example 1: Noah

Oh Noah. Noah is a brilliant example of an arc in this book and also one of my favourite demonstrations of the fact that sometimes you can hide things right in the open.

First mention (pg. 26). Noah goes out for pizza with the crew, but there is no mention of him going to school or otherwise having a life. This theme will continue: while Gansey, Adam, Ronan and Blue have conflict and fleshed-out internal worlds, Noah is a static character. The first time I read this book, I was like Gansey. I didn’t notice how much Noah was missing until it was explicitly called out.

First line of dialogue: “I’ve been dead for seven years,” Noah said. “That’s as warm as they get.” (pg. 47) (IT’S RIGHT THERE, but yet I didn’t pick up on it. Clever, clever.)

Noah’s room is also described as ‘meticulous’. As in, practically unused.

“Noah, we won’t make you eat,” says Gansey. “Need some more alone time?” says Ronan. More little hints.

The character descriptions are honestly so good, worth a study all in themselves.

Noah doesn’t come to the psychic’s reading or the helicopter trip, which the other boys do

Somehow, he has a canny knack for knowing things and sharing secrets.

“Don’t throw it away.” (pg. 165) (to Gansey)

Gansey calls for Noah but he’s not there (pg. 233)

“Blue permitted Noah to pet the crazy tufts of her hair” (pg. 238). Not particularly arc related but SUPER CUTE.

The gang visits Cabeswater again and finds Noah’s old abandoned car, a red Mustang (not that they realize it yet). In the trunk is a dowsing rod, a sign someone else is looking for ley lines. Noah throws up (from the trauma of his murder).

Blue and Gansey visit the old church and find a body. “The face on the driver’s license was Noah’s.” (pg. 274)

THE BIG SCENE IN WHICH NOAH IS REVEALED AS A GHOST (what a brilliant scene)

“Adam,” he demanded, “what is Noah’s last name?”

“Tell me,” Gansey said, “which classes you share with Noah.”

“When does he eat? Have you ever seen him eat?”

“Does he pay rent? When did he move in? Have you ever questioned it?”

These are all questions Gansey asks his friends, but are also questions we must ask ourselves. We have been fooled in the same way as they have.

“I told you,” Noah said. “I told everyone.” (pg. 278)

“The question is: Who killed you?” (pg. 279)

Noah acts like a real ghost (disappears, reappears, knocks objects off desks)

“Maybe moving it off the ley line had stolen his energy.” (pg. 298) (in regards to Noah’s body)

Noah appears, using Blue’s energy. “I want you to know,” Noah said, “I was…more…when I was alive.” (pg. 305)

“You were the sacrifice, weren’t you Noah? Someone killed you for this.” (pg. 307). It turns out Noah, the friend they didn’t realize was dead, was killed in a ritual similar to the one that is attempted at the end of the novel by their Latin teacher, and is the reason Gansey is alive.

Remember: “Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.” (pg. 271).

It’s all very circular and interwoven and very good plotting.

Noah said, “But you already know.” (pg. 309)  (In regards to who killed him) JUMPCUTS to a scene with Whelk

“I’m going to fix Noah. Somehow.” (pg. 335) (says Gansey)

She allowed him to pet her hair with his icy fingers. “Not so spiky as usual,” he said sadly. (pg. 353)

“Don’t throw it away,” Noah whispered. (pg. 371) To Adam, this time.

Noah warns Gansey that Adam is gone (he is now 100% a spooky ghost boy)

THE MURDERED/REMEMBERED SCENE (breaks my heart). They’re all in Cabeswater again for the climax of the novel and Noah, who doesn’t exist in bodily form, traces words into the dust on his old car

Noah’s funeral: “Please say something to them.” / “Mrs. Czerny, he’s sorry for drinking your birthday schnapps.” (pg. 406-407) (ouch, my heart)

They dig up his bones and rebury them on the ley line

“Can we go home? This place is so creepy.” … ”Noah!” Gansey cried gladly. Blue hurled his arms around his neck. He looked alarmed, and then pleased, and then he pet the tufts of her hair. (pg 408)

 Broadly, the arc looks like this (look how actions lead to consequences which lead to further actions):

The boys have a friend named Noah, who is sometimes there and sometimes not

LOTS OF FORESHADOWING

They find Noah’s dead body

They confront Noah and find out he’s a ghost

The police move his bones so he starts acting like a real ghost

They figure out he was used in an attempted ritual and also that their Latin teacher killed him

The dig up his bones and rebury them on the ley line

Noah comes back

Given what happens later in this series, it’s very important to me that we remember Noah.

 In conclusion

What this book does well:

Keeping readers interested by embedding small mysteries

Atmosphere and memorable locations

Evolving arcs

These are just a few things I noticed on my read-through of The Raven Boys. Stay tuned for further Word Wanderings posts and feel free to give suggestions for books you’d like me to analyze!

Personal Challenge: Pick a book you’re currently reading or an old favorite and try to figure out what keeps you reading, whether it’s little mysteries, character dilemmas or rising tension.

[oursidae]

long ass rant abt bl3

just, so many spoilers under the readmore, things i thought the game did poorly and things i wish were changed

I should have expected it to be not great being that, borderlands was NEVER fantastic with its writing and character development. Ive been spoiled by tales from the borderlands tbh. I think borderlands three tho was like… fantastically underwhelming.

I had a blast with the beginning of the game up through the end of the first vault, where the excitement peetered off. 

Firstly, i wholly believe Maya was done horribly. Compare her death to say, Roland. Even if you hadn’t played BL1, you had almost the entirety of 2 to get to know him and his character and his place in the world of borderlands. Maya’s death was INCREDIBLY early in comparison. And not only that, the characters dont get to mourn aside from a few offhand voicelines. Mordecai mourned for bloodwing in a more substantial way - you get two full side quests about it. Zer0 says one offhand voiceline for maya. They were her friend goddamn it, i wanted MORE. 

ava is a good character but the fridging of maya just makes her into… what, a brat who accidentally got her killed and now has her powers? it would have been more interesting for them to develop alongside each other through the game and if maya died near the end, youd have cared a lot more about ava too. she’s just really one note right now.

Speaking of side quests, there were very few. They were sparse and honestly i dont think they added much to the plot of the game or the world.

in borderlands 2, side quests, at least in my eyes, were what forced you to explore the map. in borderlands 3 they forgo a lot of side quests in favor of the crew challenges, which were far less rewarding imo. like, build claptrap a gf with parts from dead claptraps in the world. disable COV radio towers for moxxi, kill fauna for hammerlock, people for zer0, etc, but except for zer0 and hammerlock you just get very similar voice lines in return. as well as xp. they dont add to the plot or worldbuilding or characters in any way. 

the lack of side quests i think really hurt my enjoyment of the game, because in bl2 it was the sidequests that got you to know the main cast and see that they were working behind the scenes. like brick and his slabs, moxxi asking you to sabotage opportunity, ellie and scooters more jokey side quests even!! it made them feel real with motives outside the main quest. bl3 didnt really have any of that past the first vault (i say this because lorelai gave some good sidequests.) in 3, moxxi and hammerlock only give u one side quest each. marcus (who gave u a lot on bl2) didnt give you any. he was literally just there to run the ammo shop. 

some of the more hyped characters dont really do shit. the b-team, mordecai/brick/tina dont really do…anything, they bust hammerlock out of jail, and then give you one side quest per person. thats really it. i hoped that, considering their roles in bl2 and their relationship to lilith, theyd have big roles here too. they didnt. they were truly forgettable. 

aurelia showed up to fill a villain slot and died. maybe im a sucker for redemption, but i hoped theyd had more in store for her. and they just…didnt. just like, a whole mission of wainwright calling her a harpy while hammerlock really wants to convince her to not be evil only to get fucking shot by her, like,,,,

vaughn is a joke. they did him truly dirty. his character development tanked into a “haha look at him hes strange and naked” joke. tftbl ending vaughn would NEVER. i wish theyd acknowledge the events of tales from the borderlands AT ALL. or had vaughn and rhys SPEAK TO EACH OTHER.

rhys is another thing, i rly dislike the relationship theyre pushing w him and sasha even tho sasha literally didnt show up in the game. apparently theres echo logs of him obsessing over and searching for her (i didnt find these in my own game but like, i believe it) and her picture on his desk and god DAMN it just let it rest,

BALEX was bland and so immediately misogynistic that i hated him on principle.

so then theres this character Typhon Daleon. he is the first vault hunter, but to my knowledge the only mentions of him occur in bl3. in fact, i dont think he’s mentioned in a main quest until after you kill troy and meet him in person, you only hear of him in the typhon logs which are optional. Then in the final quest you learn troy and tyreen are his kids, then he dies. i had no attachment to this character! he should have at least been built up in borderlands 2, if not in all of the previous games to get me to at least go “huh neat!” when its revealed hes alive, his kids are the villains, etc. 

tannis… they handled her being a siren poorly, my gripe isnt that i called it, its that it isnt really explained how she got her powers. i was pissed for like a good while after she reveals that she has ANGELS powers because i assumed somehow she stole or manufactured them. theres an eridian recording that KIND OF explains it, but again, those are OPTIONAL. idk if i just blanked out when she went, oh, by the way, heres why,  but to my knowledge its never explained to the player in a main or side mission, at least until you see ava get mayas powers. its infuriating.

worldbuilding wise, this is a much smaller issue, but i wish there were nonhostile fauna on the other planets. pandoras whole thing, the big meme the big laff, is that everything wants to kill u there. so it wouldve been nice to like, see some fauna thats docile. runs away from the player, is chased around by the carnivorous fauna or bandits or something. maybe a hammerlocks challenge could be to use stealth to kill a docile animal or something, it just would have been nice,

i also didnt think the ending made sense, lilith,.. punched the moon and disappeared? died? also brick and mordecai DIDNT GET TO BE THERE FOR HER OR WITH HER AT ALL. after all of bl2 where its SHOWN they’re good friends who care about each other, youd think theyd get to witness her death/disappearance. on top of that it felt like the whole game was building to something with lilith and the climax was so underwhelming. 

i just want to beat randy bitchford with a rolled up newspaper until he stops being a piece of human shit and borderlands can develop the characters and world.

the good parts of the game were…the graphics and the bossfights. the boss fights were all unique and interesting and FUN. katagawa jr, troy, the second vault monster, and tyreen were my faves in that order. hammerlock and wainwrights relationship was adorable and i liked the credits art of wainwright proposing. clay was a fun character but like all the others, didnt have development.

i also had a lot of glitches. my game would crash if i navigated menus too quickly, i had an issue with effects from shields staying on my screen even tho they should have ended, as well as a lot of glitching after cutscenes, most notably falling through the floor after the troy bossfight. a lot of my quest objectives glitched and wouldnt activate until i reloaded, which was frustrating.

i DID like the game. but i dont know if ill do a replay past promethea. i was just wishing itd be a whole game on the level of the Commander Lilith DLC.

TLDR i wouldn’t have minded the game being so lilith centric if the other characters got to matter at ALL.

[transienturl]

the first half of the ask post you didn't reblog because you're doing them all anyways

Thanks, me!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?Option 7, None of the above: highball glass. I looked up the glassware model I like; apparently the manufacturer calls them “nordic cooler glasses.” I much prefer glassware made of glass to any other type, and dislike the ridges/patterns on a lot of drinking glasses. Yep, I’m this picky.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?Chocolate. I like chocolate’s texture and the way it melts, and I don’t like eating bits of paper.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?Cotton candy. Bubblegum is gross.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?Uhh… hm. “Smart,” probably, which wasn’t particularly helpful. They probably had a bunch more to say but I don’t remember what anymore.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?I like this ask post! As mentioned, glass cups. I like how soda cans feel in the hand but the drinking experience is just alright. Plastic is just unpleasant.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?I had to google “boho” and I’m still not super clear on what it encompasses, but it seems kinda neat! Also I have no idea what grunge really means. If I had a feminine body and thus felt like dressing up, I’d definitely pick boho out of the google image results of each of those terms.

7. earbuds or headphones?Both; if I wear either for too long I switch to the other for comfort. But I’m at least somewhat an audio enthusiast, so I could go on for a long time here. Ex:

The soundstage of open-back headphones is really unparalleled for one. Apple’s earpods/airpods actually fit me and have basically no microphonics, which usually are a big issue with IEMs for me, plus their resolution on the high end is surprisingly great.

Insert the rest of this discussion here.

8. movies or tv shows?I watch either of these not from seeking them out but from circumstance, but often wind up liking them. I’m one of those people who thinks, “I’d watch that,” and then never watches whatever that was. So I don’t really know which I do or would prefer.

9. favorite smell in the summer?Uh… hm. That’s a really good question. What’s most interesting about it, I think, is just the list of smells people associate with a season. Of course there’s environmental ones like rain, but for summer I assume you have to go with, I dunno, fair food or something like that.

Anyway, no idea! I can’t think of a lot of meaningful smells that aren’t food, honestly.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?I remember enjoying capture the flag a lot. I dunno if I was actually good at it, though. I did have pretty good short-duration speed, so I was a decent defender. I don’t really remember what else we did.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?Nothing. (I don’t like most American breakfast foods much, though that’s not why.)

12. name of your favorite playlist?I called it “the playlist which is entirely fire” because why not. Alternately, the playlist with all of my music is just named after me.

13. lanyard or key ring?Key ring; I’m not a… yeah actually that joke would only work for people who went to my high school and follow this blog (hi Xander).

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?That’s also a really good question and I’m positive I have an answer, but I can’t think of it. I eat candy once every like 3 months, so it doesn’t exactly come to mind easily. The candied pecans I just tried are pretty good, though. Insert reference to my halloween fanfiction.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?Y'know how there are some things that you remember deciding at one point were your favorite, but don’t remember well enough to properly consider now? A lot of my favorite pieces of media are like that, but I have at least some confidence in the decision I made at the time. Not so much here. I remember thinking with surprise that I enjoyed The Mill on the Floss when I read it in class, so that’s what comes to mind, but I think it’s the wrong answer. I’m pretty sure there are some books I really enjoy that I’ve forgotten were originally for class. Random example that I think is also wrong: The Hobbit. The Giver is pretty darn good, too. Fahrenheit 451. I don’t remember this being the case but we might have read A Wrinkle in Time in a class. Et cetera.

Wait, no, actually, I figured it out: Island of the Blue Dolphins. (Which, actually, goes in the “this might be too much of a childrens’ book to enjoy rereading” category along with Summerland, The Great Tree of Avalon, The Marino Mission, What the Moon Saw, The Secret of Platform 13, and Island of the Aunts, all of which I loved at the time of reading. And potentially also The Book Thief, although I doubt it. Can you tell I like award-winning children’s books, though?)

16. most comfortable position to sit in?With crossed legs or on my feet, which people seem to find weird.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?I only have one regularly-used pair of shoes.

18. ideal weather?Still. I can’t stand wind of any kind. A range of temperatures is nice (not too hot; not *too* cold but snow is pretty so I’ll allow a wide range in that direction.)

19. sleeping position?In a ball, or at least partially curled up.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?I haven’t written on paper in like a decade. I had to recently in order to leave a sticky note on something and had actual trouble making it legible. Essentially everything I write is on this 2013 Macbook Pro keyboard.

21. obsession from childhood?Um… existentialism? The pretend world my sisters’ and my stuffed animals lived in? Popular science topics and things from video game worlds, all of which went into said pretend world? Jet aircraft? Algebra and geometry puzzles? Configuring laptop computers?

22. role model?John Green. People who can communicate/present things effectively.

23. strange habits?I’m sure I have a ton. I’m not going to delay posting this to come up with any, but I’ll think about it. But especially if we’re using western society as the ‘norm’ for the sake of the question, I think there’s a ton of stuff I do that’d surprise people.

24. favorite crystal?Hm. I like the colorless ones like diamond, I guess? I just generally like gemstones, especially in fiction when they have powers. Oh, how’s this: I tend to like crystals that are (semi)transparent, so they have depth to them and change appearance as they’re rotated.

The other weird, mostly-unrelated thing that comes to mind is when I made a necklace for my best friend in elementary school and spent a lot of effort picking out the right sort of pendant, but I don’t think it was actually a crystal. (I often wonder what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t moved; I bet we’d still be close.)

25. first song you remember hearing?Neat question! I have no memory of a particular song being the first. My parents played music a lot when I was little, so a lot of their CD collection makes me think, “I’ve been listening to this since far before I noticed that I was.” The most recent one of those I heard and wrote down was Cathedral of the Pines by Tim Janis.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?…complain about the heat? :D Hm, I don’t have a lot of outdoor hobbies.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?…complain about the cold? :P I do like to ski somewhat. And I like hot cocoa.

28. five songs to describe you?

Eric’s Song – Vienna Teng

Doubt – Ruby Day

…hm. Looking through my playlists and the #media tag on this blog, there’s a ton of songs that I like, and where that fact tells you something about my taste in music, but it’s hard to find songs whose content particularly tells you something. Let’s just go with songs I find some meaning or relevance in?

Laughing With – Regina Spektor

Rainbow Connection – Kermit the Frog/various covers

Okay, I ran out of songs with particular meaning; let’s finish up with one whose meaning is arguably a lack of particular meaning?

Both Sides Now – Joni Mitchell

29. best way to bond with you?Talking, I guess. Boring answer, maybe, but I think most bonding experiences I’ve had were just two people talking about something important.

30. places that you find sacred?My elementary school? Is that a weird answer?

Other than that… a lot of places, really. Depending how you use “sacred,” I think it could apply in my mind to lots of unique places, especially natural-wonder type things.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?I haven’t got one. None of my clothes are things I’ve picked out to look good, honestly. The thing that makes me feel more “ready to go out and kick ass than usual” is, like, bringing a phone charger with me in case I run out of battery in the process of whatever ass kicking it’s going to be, and that’s not an outfit thing.

32. top five favorite vines?Remember vine? Good times.

1. A Legendary Argument (https://vine.co/v/enUmZjLFgw2/); the “just do it” “no” one

Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know of any other ones.

33. most used phrase in your phone?I… don’t know how to tell. That sounds like a cool thing to figure out but I dunno how to see that.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?None, thank god.

35. average time you fall asleep?Too late.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?No idea.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?I don’t really know what context to think of this question in. Like, is there a time both would be valid options? Anyway, suitcase. Honorable mention: backpack.

38. lemonade or tea?I only like either of these in moderation. Usually I’d say lemonade, but lately I’ve been disliking acidic drinks more than usual, so maybe I’ll say tea. Actually, what I like is chrysanthemum tea, which you can get at dim sum places sometimes.

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?I’ll go with lemon cake. I can only eat a really small amount of lemon meringue. If someone made more of a lemon meringue tart with a really thin layer of lemon (maybe 10mm or a bit less) and a lot of crust and meringue, that could be really good though.

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?If “bad” counts as “weird,” let’s just say it involved sexual misconduct.

41. last person you texted?My dad (a link to instructions to get free in-flight wifi; nothing interesting).

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?I prefer to put stuff in pants pockets so I have them if I take off my jacket, but then my pants fall down because I have no hips and my pants are all regular-person sized.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?I immediately crossed off everything except hoodie and cardigan. With a different body I’d definitely pick cardigan.

44. favorite scent for soap?Unscented.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?Eh, I mean, I think they all have potential. I’d pick sci-fi or fantasy over superhero; print comics have never interested me at all, though I’m sure there’s interesting stuff in there too.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?I feel like it’s just whatever you’re used to, honestly.

47. favorite type of cheese?Maybe fresh mozzarella? Either way, it’s going to be something people who really like cheese would barely count as cheese.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?If I were a fruit… not to take it too literally, but I can’t think of a better way to interpret it. Um… a ground cherry, because it’s cute and has a place to hide in.

49. what saying or quote do you live by?“Hope is the correct response to the human condition.”

There are probably better ones that correspond to things I live by more, but that’s the one I have a quote for. Guess who it’s by? I’ll give you one guess.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?Not sure. Show of the Weekend (@outsidextra) definitely wins “hardest laugh that I can remember recently” though.

[tetsuwan-atom]

Villain Headcanon - Atlas Ethinger

Well, it's certainly been a while since I've done a villain headcanon post.. and really these should be done due to plot ideas later on down the track. This one is particularly important as it's heavily related to Bowen himself. There's a lot of information to go through, so it will be put under a read more. This, is Atlas Ethinger.

Faceclaim is either KAITO from Vocaloid or Gallerian Marlon from Evillious Chronicles (which is basically KAITO anyway...)

(( I also apologise if any part of this description may sound confusing. Plenty of it has been done on the fly. ))

Childhood and upbringing

Atlas Ethinger is the 'son' of Zeus Ethinger. Son being a loose term as he wasn't actually 'born' in a traditional sense. He is in fact, a test tube baby.

Atlas was created using a mix of genetic material from a previous human incarnation of the multiversal god 'Atom', as well as such material from a human being. Zeus Ethinger, an engineering tycoon with a vast amount of wealth, wanted to create his own 'god' son, firmly believing the Atomite lore. The genetic material needed was taken from a previous incarnation of Atom, someone who had been around since the beginning of the 20th century and had previously fought in a few wars for his country. This was done through killing said incarnation, right at his doorstep. The other material was acquired through a suitable female.

As a child he was left under the care of servants and maids, Zeus never really in the picture at all at that stage. He was privately educated as well, only going to what Zeus considered to be 'the best schools', not that it helped, he was still bullied throughout his studies. Being blue haired with those bright green eyes easily made him a target, as well as his home life not exactly the best environment for him.

His father became more involved when Atlas was a teenager, but not exactly in the best way. He was only concerned for Atlas' grades, not his wellbeing. The bullying didn't stop in high school in fact it worsened considerably. The way he was treated in those years nurtured a hatred for others, whom he began to consider as less than himself, for having to resort to pick on others. Eventually of course, he snapped, on one rainy day he confronted a senior student who had a huge dislike for him and savagely beat him in front of everyone. The extent of the injuries was so severe, everyone thought that Atlas would have killed this guy.

Needless to say, he was expelled from such a school. The tirade he got from his father was vicious, both verbally and physically. Again, his father never cared for how he felt, he just wanted Atlas to get the grades that were needed to get the education.. and that was in jeopardy.

So he was sent to another private school, where he did a bit better, especially since he met someone whom he felt like he could rely on. Her name was Bridget. Bridget stuck up for him when he was being harassed by older students, especially one who also took fancy to her. Regularly did Atlas and said student have regular arguments. Clearly Atlas felt something for Bridget and there was an inkling that she might have felt the same way.

Unfortunately this had an effect on his grades and Zeus was not happy. More abuse followed, especially verbal this time. When he found out as to why Atlas might be slipping on his grades, he decided to hatch a cunning plan to hook up Bridget with the rival student. Money was a particular factor in such a plan and no doubt did it work. Bridget abandoned Atlas and quickly went off with the rival student, changing schools not long after that. Atlas, was heartbroken. The one person he could trust and rely one, someone whom he first developed feelings for, had left him in the dust, for someone who thought he was less than dirt. It only further fuelled his dislike for others, as well as keeping his heart from ever feeling for another individual.

While he graduated from private school, pretty easily, his father, Zeus, was still pedantic about grades, even when Atlas was sent to one of the top universities. Even then did he get ridiculed for his appearance, as well as his choice of outfits, making him look all over blue, as well as particularly old school, compared to the others. Studying eventually took it's own toll, which lead to one particular argument with Zeus.

By this stage, Atlas was an adult, in a position to argue back with Zeus. The argument was particularly fierce and nasty, a lot of personal anger and vitriol was unleashed that night, with Atlas angrily accusing Zeus of not being a father at all, that he treated Atlas like someone who was more of an employee than a son. The argument eventually got to the stage where Zeus nastily blurted out to Atlas that he had to arrange for Bridget to run off with a high school student as she was being a bad influence on his life, that he should focus on his career more than 'bodily urges'.

This, was the final straw for Atlas. He couldn't take any more from the man who had created him. The man who was already serving himself and not his son, who seemed would do anything to get his 'pawn' to where he wanted to be. Thoughts of Bridget fuelled his mind, rage amplifying with each second. The result... Zeus was murdered, right there and then, in a fashion that was particularly brutal and savage. Atlas made sure that everyone else kept quiet about it, for they would suffer the same fate otherwise. Zeus' body was quickly disposed of, leaving no trace of the selfish tycoon. Atlas would inherit everything, being the only 'child' that Zeus had. This would be a new experience for him, one where he had to shapen up pretty quickly. It wasn't easy having so much money, as well as an engineering company and mass connections to keep going. He would learn from the servants who had raised him. Combined with his previous experiences in school and university, he would become a master player in whatever dealings he had.

Adulthood, Atlas Engineering and the Ministry of Science

Atlas would grow to become a cunning operator in his business dealings. Formerly the company was known as Ethinger Manufacturing, but when he took charge, it quickly changed to Atlas Engineering. Good thing that when he was at university, he was in fact studying an engineering degree and had learned quite a lot about what his late father had dealt with. He had such an interest in machines since his early schooling days, as well as computers, they certainly fascinated him. Many a design he had made for various applications, in fact quite quickly in such a regard. He was praised highly for his quick skill, which eventually earned him connections with the Ministry of Science, in particular the head of the Inter-Dimensional branch at the time, Davis Uberiso. While the Ministry had been undergoing works of a corrupt and shady nature, Davis and his team were working on a goal that would benefit billions upon billions. Safe and secute inter-dimensional travel, both personal and en-masse. Such a project enticed Atlas, not to mention having connections with the Ministry, he would soon learn a lot more than what he would ever discover otherwise.

One other point of mention is another aspect of his behaviour. He had been raised mainly by maids when he was younger. As a kid it was older maids, who eventually retired and made way for younger ones. When he was a teenager, there was a particularly young maid, in her early 20s, Mary, who seemed like she very much cared for Atlas. Whether she was doing her job well or if she did care for him, he would very much reward it in the future. After the whole Bridget fiasco and after he had taken over his father's company, Atlas began to spend quite a bit of time with Mary. She was still employed by Atlas and hadn't reached thirty just yet. Atlas had found quite an attraction to her when he first knew her and that hadn't changed at all. She didn't have anyone at the time and could easily tell what he thought of her. This culminated in a night of fireworks. Atlas lost his virginity to a maid and for the first time, knew what intimacy and sex was like.

It wasn't the last time either. Atlas had it pretty good where he was at that moment, running a successful company, learning more about machines with the Ministry and being enthralled in passion with Mary every night. For a while, things seemed to be pretty good, until one day Atlas had to go through some documents.. one of them contained information about himself.

When he was younger, he was told that Zeus was his father and that his mother died in an accident shortly after he was born. While he still had a mother, that information had been easily redacted in the documents. What he found more fascinating, as well as shocking, was what he was. From the information he had read about his creation and what was used. He ascertained that he himself, was an artificial incarnation of a multiversal god, combined with human DNA. He was, truly, better than everyone else, save for the one person whom he shared a bed every night. Many a time did he test his abilities and was truly surprised at the results. His speed, strength, stamina, everything, it was all phenomenal. It also explained how moments with Mary lasted all night and sometimes into the morning.

But then the downfall was right around the corner. Eventually a leak occurred about Atlas and Mary, that he was having this long affair with his maid. Of course, neither had a significant other prior, but news did spread like wildfire. Company bosses began to think less of him. One even commented that Atlas was 'a horn dog who would rather bang his maid instead of running his business'. It even had an effect on his work with the Ministry of Science. He was involved in a project relating to negative energy, as part of his newly discovered fascination with Atomite lore. That experiment went horribly wrong, creating a monster that looked to devastate a city, only to instead manifest itself in a bystanding teenager, who would disappear shortly after.

The revelations had a toll on his relationship with Mary as well. She was the second person whom he felt a proper connection to, yet soon it seemed like they were arguing more and more. This of course, culminated in more sex, but that soon had an effect of it's own.

Mary got pregnant.

Atlas had a mixture of joy and concern of such news. Easily was it ascertained that it was of course his baby and he felt joy that he could be fathering a child of his own, yet Mary wasn't physically coping with carrying a child, taking a toll on her body. During the term, Mary fell gravely ill. Despite best efforts to save her, she died, with Atlas by her side. The baby could not be saved.

This left Atlas in a pretty bad state. The second person he had come close to feeling something for, probably the only person he could consider 'loving', had died. It was like everything that was going right in his life was being taken away from him. Already at this stage, he was somewhat self serving, but after that, did he truly and only look out for himself. Nobody else mattered anymore but him.

The final years of his old life

By that stage, Atlas was only thinking of himself. Some would go so far as to say he ended up just like his late father.. or much much worse. His dealings were ruthless, he was cunning at every corner. He even went so far as to massacre a whole building full of diplomats, just to hinder or sever relations between a country and the United Government, all for his own gain and all covered up easily.

The research on inter-dimensional travel was reaching new levels as well. Portal technology was feasible for small vehicles, but a large energy and computational source would be required to sustain mass transit travel, as well as personal travel at the same time. The decision was made to build what was called 'The Reactor', feet upon feet below ground, at the Ministry of Science headquarters. Atlas was heavily involved in it's construction. He had to be, he knew what it would be capable of.

He had made alterations to the initial design in such a way that someone could in fact 'live' in the Reactor. It would be like truly ascending to god, being able to go where he wanted, see what he wanted.. even almost do what he wanted. There were sacrifices he had to make. He'd have to leave everything behind. Atlas Engineering, his old life, everything, but to him and the way things were now, it seemed like the perfect trade off.

By this stage he was wanting more 'experiences' at the same time. The copious amount of sex he had with Mary had left him with a mindset that one shouldn't go without. He became notorious for charming and having affairs with multiple women. At the same time, he felt like wanting to create another child, to truly have fathered a kid of his own.. or multiple. Of course for the most part this was unsuccessful, for many reasons.

Until one night he charmed a woman by the name of Carolyn Fielding. To say he made a woman out of her was an understatement. Most of his one night stands and affairs didn't amount to much, but with Carolyn, it was like fireworks. She was so lost in such a moment with him, that she didn't ask crucial questions, like if he was wearing a condom or not... nor did she even do her own research about him, for that matter.

For a good while did they keep in contact, Atlas didn't see anyone else during that period, more so because of his involvement in the Reactor's construction, but he kept nights free for Carolyn... for a while.

It was no wonder she fell pregnant with his child, but she wasn't happy about it at all. Atlas was overjoyed, but she felt like as if he had been very careless. Not to mention upon learning about him, she was left as if she had been used. A particular confrontation ensued, Carolyn almost breaking down in front of Atlas, before running away from him before he could even talk to her. Instead of tracking her down, he chose instead to continue his own work, wondering if she will be fine in the end. He didn't really develop a connection with Carolyn, for by that stage, she was just another woman to be intimate with, or rather, the woman who was now carrying his child.

He didn't even know she was being comforted by a research assistant, who was passing by from another department. That person was called Morrie Chuuno, someone who would eventually change Carolyn's life, for the better, considering he convinced her to take the baby to term anyway, among other things.

Meanwhile Atlas had become obsessed with the Reactor, so much so that he was there every waking moment. Davis Uberiso was starting to get concerned himself, wondering what Atlas was up to. Eventually it came to the big moment when the behemoth machine would be fully utilised for the first time.

It was meant to be a minor ceremony, but Atlas had crashed the party, shooting Davis Uberiso in the shoulder and preparing to infuse himself with the Reactor, thanks to the alterations he had made. He knew this would be irreversible, for once he was inside, no-one could pluck him out. He was about do so, when a female voice compelled him to halt and turn.

Out of the blue.. Bridget had shown up.

She had been contacted by one of Atlas' servants, who had told her everything, how the late Zeus had given the old rival student the upper hand back in high school and the motive to take Bridget away from Atlas. Finally had Bridget seen what was really going on and had tried desperately to find Atlas, only now, at the very last moment, seeing him, eye to eye, one more time. But it was too late by then. Atlas was all out of love. Compassion and nostalgia had long gone for his past... and a new future was dawning on him. After all, he couldn't walk away from this. He knew the ramifications if he didn't go ahead with it. He took one last look at Bridget, before stepping into the Reactor and becoming part of the process used to make inter-dimensional travel possible.

At that very moment too, had a baby been born. One that looked nothing like his mother or father, one who was truly his own identity. This person was the son of Atlas and Carolyn, who had been fully taken to term. By that stage, she had grown into a relationship with Morrie Chuuno, as well as them finding out who Atlas really was, when certain documents were leaked to them, by the same servant who was working to bring Bridget back to Atlas. Those documents would make their way to the Ministry of Science as well, who would keep such records on file as part of their 'Atom' research. They would soon learn that this new child, however, would continue that lore, well into the future.

That child, would be named Bowen.

Father and Son

Atlas had been out of Bowen's life for the most part, mainly figuring out how to move about thanks to the Reactor and get used to this new life of his. He could manifest his own world within it, a recreation of the old mansion he used to live in. Then at some point he could move about and see new worlds, being able to physically manifest and finally continue a part of his old lifestyle, that being of course, seducing women.

He also figured out that the Reactor had intensified his abilities. It was like he was almost unstoppable in that regard. Someone could shoot him and he'd disappear before the bullet would reach him, something he had tested out in a few areas where that could occur.

There was also a strange intrinsic link he had developed, that confused him at first. Strange thoughts of a child's day, school and the like, although the familiar voice of Carolyn would also reach him through such thoughts. That lead to a few discoveries. One, that the baby he had conceived had actually been born.. and was being raised and two.. that it seemed, because the two are both incarnations of Atom, that he could read his son's thoughts, his mind. This would definitely prove beneficial to him in the future. He of course learned to control such an ability to when he wanted it, so that it wasn't happening out of the blue.

While there were threats to try and extinguish him from the Reactor, Atlas had made it so that it could heavily corrupt the machine, which could leave horrifically devastating consequences on the universes in which it served. Such was the case that the Ministry found it best to leave him alone until a much, much safer solution can be found.

Atlas decided to come into Bowen's life when the latter was sixteen. By then the young boy had gone back in time and had already shot and killed someone. The meeting went as Atlas expected, the young Bowen being quite wary of Atlas, although Atlas remained calm and composed. His son looked like the images he had found in Zeus' records. The eyes, the hair, the face, everything. This teenager had to be a full Atom incarnation. What were the odds of that coming from him! No doubt he told Bowen that his life is going to change more and more as he gets older... and to ask his parents about him. Needless to say from then on, Bowen found a pretty good hatred for Atlas and for what he did.

Meetings that happened from then on, Atlas wasn't so kind. He would randomly show up to harass Bowen, even go so far as to beat him up on occasion. Atlas wondered how Bowen's life would go, though he knew his upbringing was much different to what Atlas had experienced. Bowen couldn't be corrupted like him, but he pondered as if one day in the future that Bowen could potentially end up like him, if the circumstances were right. He would be keeping a close eye on Bowen, just as Bowen is considerably wary of Atlas.. many people feel like Bowen might be the only one to stop Atlas, if the former's abilities develop far enough in the future.

Atlas does have an impression that Bowen is also being used as a weapon by the Ministry of Science, an impression that he finds quite amusing. Maybe that could be the catalyst for the blonde in the future, but Atlas didn't see a reason to bring his thoughts up, unless he ended up being insanely bored and felt like he could get a good laugh out of it.

Atlas does what he wants nowadays, though through reading Bowen's mind, he does find new avenues to explore, in most cases avenues being women, but in the long run he does have an ultimate goal. He has little disregard for humanity, even sentience as a whole. He feels the need for a clean slate is in order and to do that, the multiverse as a whole, must be purged. Such a task is beyond mammoth, something he can't even do right now, but he actively seeks avenues to increase his power, to grow it beyond what he could ever imagine, to get closer and closer to such a goal. He has told Bowen about this, for Atlas feels it's more fun to have oppression in the wake of such a goal.

Atlas must be stopped. It would be foolish to underestimate how far he can go.

Granted, depending on whom he meets, he might just keep a world separate for him and those he might come to like in the future.

Appearance, Personality and Abilities

Atlas stands at around 6'3, with noticeably blue hair and green eyes. His main attire consists of a white shirt, with royal blue pants and blazer. Underneath is either a red or blue waistcoat with a green tie.

Atlas is considered to be entirely self serving, looking out for number one. He has little disregard for anyone else but him and has no qualms about taking lives if it furthers his own gain. He's a heavy womaniser at well, pretty much seeking affairs whenever he can. There may be a chance he might develop a particular fancy to certain people, in which he might only sleep with such a person if that were to occur. This however, has yet to happen and therefore has not been tested.

He constantly harasses his son, Bowen Chuuno, both verbally and physically. There have been a few occasions where Bowen has been left severely battered because of Atlas. While he'll beat up Bowen, he has not once considered killing him, only using that as a last resort if he absolutely has to.

He's considerably more powerful than what a strong or fast human would be considered to be. He can't easily be taken down in a fight, especially when he can disappear at the last moment. He prefers to use fists and feet to fight, at great speed and agility, but has been known to use weapons like pistols and machine guns at times. He doesn't possess any further abilities in relation to Atom, such as energy amplification or manipulation, but whether or not there will be a need for such is uncertain. He might develop such abilities later, through the process of seeking more power, if he continues down that path in the future.

In truth, his future can be a bit open ended depending on the direction of an RP.

For most people though, do not approach, for he'll most likely approach you.

[sometimesrosy]

Into Eden, chapt 3; It Was Fake

Into Eden

rosymamacita

Chapter 3 READ On AO3

This mail order bride thing was an uneasy partnership. Keeping it just business should have made it easier. But Bellamy still thought she was a princess and he was somehow lower than her. A slave even. And everything was complicated by the fact that Clarke was very attracted to him. He was her husband. But he wasn't.

Maybe they could find some sort of balance where everyone got what they needed.

Fake. It was fake.

Clarke was worried that after only two weeks pretending to be a long term mated pair with her husband, whom she’d just met, JUST MET, she was having a hard time remembering that she wasn’t planning any happily ever after with him. She was having a hard time remembering that it wasn’t REAL.

It was horrible. It was unexpected. It was against her will. It was STUPID.

She kept trying to tell herself that. She kept reminding herself that it had only been a few weeks since she was with Lexa. Although when she thought about it, the tail end of her year long relationship with Lexa had not been all that loving, or happy, or connected. Lexa had never understood her grief over her father’s death and had wanted her to just get past it. Their relationship had started out passionate, needy even, but just gotten more political and resentful as time went on. Lexa didn’t like the time that Clarke’s career as a medical researcher took and thought she should quit. She called her naive when she disagreed. And when she’d said they should get married, she hadn’t even asked. She just declared it.

She liked that Clarke was the daughter of Chancellor Griffin from Alpha Station, with whom she she very much wanted to be allied. It would be advantageous for everyone. But Clarke disliked all the station politics and jockeying for power and alliance, always had. And she hated it more after her father was killed two years ago, for doing what was right, not what was political. It all made her wonder if Lexa ever really loved her at all, or if she’d just wanted her for her political power.

Clarke wasn’t even sure she believed in love anymore, that’s why this business arrangement had seemed so much better. No politics. No love. Just a marriage for convenience sake.

She tried to tell herself that at least they were honest and they had both agreed and they both knew that it was in name only. They were… business partners.

And, as he kept reminding her, she was the one in charge, so it wasn’t really a business PARTNERSHIP so much as she was the boss, and he was, kind of, her employee.

“You might call me a slave,” he said. She’d gaped at him. It was after a formal dinner and he threw off his tuxedo jacket in anger. He hadn’t liked sitting in that room of dignitaries and wealthy, smug colonists, pretending to be one of them, letting her hang onto his elbow and look up at him adoringly. Fake adoration. It wasn’t hard to stare at his beauty, but she was under no illusions. It was not love.

“You’re not a slave. We’re married. It’s a partnership.” No matter his beauty. And that wouldn’t influence her at all.

“You bought me. I’m a slave.” He glared at her darkly and damned if that didn’t make him more attractive. It was simply outrageous.

She wanted to yell at him, but he just kept stripping. First the tie that he’d been complaining about, then the shirt with all its complicated buttons. He was down to bare chest and starting on his pants when she turned around and hid her face in her own wardrobe. “We agreed to this. You agreed to this. We both wanted to get to Eden Colony,” she said, and her voice wasn’t strangled with lust or emotion or whatever. It was frustration. With him! Not her feelings. “We’re both getting something out of it. You get the free trip. I get to bypass the stupid rules.”

“Yeah, but you don’t get to bypass them, do you. We still have to be married.”

“In name only.”

“We still have to live together.”

“I’ve got the plans for our homestead. It’s required we share a dwelling, but I’m constructing a dwelling with two separate apartments. We’ll be more like neighbors, once we get out to the claim. And the nearest town is an hour away so there’s no one to call us on our separate living arrangements. We’ll be fine.”

“You have the resources to build a house with an extra apartment, all so that you don’t have to live with me?”

She didn’t know why the question made her heart skip. She pushed it aside. “I spent ALL my money, Bellamy. I was going to get what we needed. And I never intended to treat you like a slave, even before I met you. This is a mutually beneficial partnership. We’re sharing all the resources. We’ll be pulling our own weight on Eden colony. Together. Not me with all the money and you doing the labor. This is not me owning you. Please. You will own me as much as I own you. And we still have to have children. Together.”

He went silent then. The silence went on so long that she took her nightgown out of the wardrobe and clutched at it like it would protect her, like it would slow her rapidly beating heart, and turned slowly to look at him. All he wore was plain black briefs, ones she had actually bought for him. But she wouldn’t let herself look. “Not that—I mean— I’m a medical professional. We have a fully functional scientific module. The intention is for us to use it to raise livestock from our bank of frozen embryos, but I will also be able to fertilize my eggs with your— I mean— we have options is all I’m saying.”

He just looked at her. “We haven’t talked about this.”

“We’ve only known each other two weeks. It’s kind of personal.”

“It’s personal to both of us. This is about— us.”

“We— we have options, Bellamy.” She looked at him with as blank a face as she could manage. It seemed to be effective. He nodded, business like.

“I never asked. I assumed that, because you paid for a man to be your husband that you were attracted to men. I shouldn’t have assumed. Perhaps you just wanted a male for the farm. Or as a father. Not as a mate. Not in that way.”

She swallowed and did not look down at his bare chest and tight abs. But she couldn’t help but see anyway. “No.” She said shortly. “I am attracted to men and women both, no preference. Thanks for checking. I’m sorry I didn’t say. But like you said, we haven’t talked about this, and our sexual preferences and plans for impregnation weren’t exactly going to be part of the polite dinner conversation with the other wealthy colonists. We had more important stories to straighten out.”

He laughed and then moved to his wardrobe where he pulled out the cotton pajamas she’d bought for him. She liked them. They looked soft. He looked relaxed in them. He put them on and she could breathe deeply again, although her eyes kept returning to the suggestion of muscles underneath the shirt. It was good he had muscles. Good for breeding. Good for working their claim. He’d been a good choice for a husband, even if she’d picked him by chance. The marriage brokers she’d chosen had done their job well. She was sure they’d be able to work things out and it would stop being so awkward. Someday.

“So I assume you will be… carrying our child? Yourself? Or do they do human surrogates the way they do the livestock surrogates?”

Clarke choked on air. He smirked and clapped her on the back. “Sorry. Was that topic too sudden? I thought we were talking about it. Sexual preferences, I am also bisexual by the way, with a strong preference for women. And plans for impregnation. Were we not talking about it?”

She cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, I just— I hadn’t thought about carrying a child. I hadn’t thought of it. I mean, I knew I would have to have children, that it was the charter, but— the idea…” she looked up at him wide eyed, as if he could help her. How could he? The very thought. She pressed her nightgown into her stomach, imagining.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern. “I was teasing you. A little. I shouldn’t have. We don’t have to talk about it. We’re not there yet.”

She gaped at him. How was he so sensitive? This man, who she’d learned had been nothing but a worker, then a guard, then a janitor in a factory on a dirt colony, a dome that manufactured synthetics. Nothing all that special. Just one colony in a hundred. He had calluses on his hands and he’d raised his sister after his mother died. Just a hard working man. They had nothing in common and they had to make up the story that they’d bonded over the net, on a webring about ancient earth mythology, strangely , an interest that they both shared in real life. He liked mythology. And human history. Inside his factory station skin, he was a man with a mind. And she was getting to like him more every day. She wasn’t ready to talk about having his baby yet. But it wasn’t going to get any easier if she waited.

“No. We should talk about it. It’s going to happen, one way or another. This is our last night cruising before they put us into cryo sleep for the the jump to hyper flight. I just hadn’t thought about how soon it would have to happen. I mean. If we’re going to free you from your contract as soon as possible, that means I should attempt impregnation was soon as we reach our claim. That’s, not counting the time we’ll be in cryo sleep,” she paused and realized the time frame. Her breath left her forcefully. “Two weeks from now.” She laughed and it sounded kind of panicked even to her own ears. “I should start adjusting to the concept. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I meant to be so prepared.”

“Woah, Clarke,” Bellamy said, putting his big hands on her shoulders and holding her down. She was glad for it. She felt like she might fly off into space. “Slow down. We don’t have to move so fast. There’s no time constraint for pregnancy and children in the charter agreement, is there?”

“No.” She shook her head and laughed a little and this time her laughter was tinged with tears. “Of course not. We could take as long as we wanted. If we reach the end of my fertility, they would have us requisition a surrogate, like you said. But that only is necessary in medical cases. I should be fertile through my forties. We have twenty years.”

“Then why are you saying it has to happen now. Can’t we get used to our claim? Get used to each other?”

She blinked up at him and the tears that threatened had the audacity to fall. She ducked her head, but he saw. “You’re not a slave Bellamy. I don’t want to keep you longer than you need. You’re free, okay? The definitions for marriage in the charter are very broad. Okay? You can live your life however…” she paused thinking about the tall and beautiful dark haired colonist that had been eyeing him at the dinner even though he’d been holding her hand. She’d seen him looking back at the woman. Clarke thought she was beautiful too but she hadn’t been looking at Clarke like she wanted to eat her up. “You can live your life however you want, okay, Bellamy? I’m not going to hold you to any antiquated notions of marriage. I’m the one who has to monitor my fertility and the genetic background of our offspring. I’m the one that can get pregnant. You can do what you want, just be careful.”

“Hold up. Are you telling me I can sleep around?”

She shrugged.

“But you have to be faithful to me? Even though we’re not a real couple?”

“Just in relationships where I might become pregnant. They don’t just want men and women on Eden, they want prime genetic material, and that’s us. That’s how we got accepted. They liked my money and connections, but you? You’re perfect. They want your genes populating Eden. You could probably even get some other women pregnant and they wouldn’t mind, as long as the child was registered and its background confirmed to guard against future inbreeding. It’s a worry on a colony with a small population and not much migration.”

He raised his hands. “No Clarke. No. I’m not doing this.”

“What? Uhm. You signed a contract. You have to. If we don’t have children they’ll take our claim and we will have to hire on to someone else’s or find a way back. Because we’ll have no credits left.”

He snorted. “No. That’s not what I meant. I signed a contract. That means we’re married. I don’t cheat. Okay? Maybe it wasn’t a love match, but to me, this marriage is real.”

“But the charter definition of marriage is broad—“

“Clarke. I don’t cheat. I’m not going to sleep around. And, for god sake. I’m not looking to get out of our marriage as soon as possible. If I’m building a stake with you, I’m building a stake. We’re doing this together. We’re partners. And there’s no way I would even think of leaving my children. We don’t have to rush to have children so I can be free. Please. So stop that.”

“I thought you said you were a slave?”

“I was pissed off. I got accosted in the corridor by some woman who seemed to think that because we came from different classes I must be a space spouse—“

Clarke gasped. “She knew?”

“Oh don’t worry. I sold my love for you. She now thinks our forbidden love is why we were so desperate to get away from your family’s connections.”

“Oh. That’s good. Alpha Station is full of incredible snobs. Why didn’t we think of that?”

“I did. I told Echo. We’ll have to use that story from now on. Especially since mail order brides have a reputation in the wealthy colonies of being, well, whores.”

Clarke felt her mouth fall open.

“Mmhm. Yeah. Apparently, it’s a rather common occurrence on colonies for space spouses to be thrown over when the colonists find a better candidate. I’m surprised your research didn’t look into the black market economies on the colonies. Even on Eden. There’s a thriving community of comfort women and men and Echo thought she’d get her bid on me in early.”

She stared at him and felt her anger rise. She clenched her hands and imagined the tall woman’s throat in her fingers. “I’m going to kill her.”

Bellamy laughed. “What?”

“I’m going to kill her,” she said, her voice lower. “How dare she treat you like that. I won’t stand for it. And you thinking you have take it? No. I’m going to kill her.” She began stalking towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. She was standing very near him. “Woah. Calm down. It’s nothing new. This is the way the privileged treat us lowborns. We’re there to be used, as workers, as guinea pigs, for service, in one way or another. At least with you around, I’ve got some defenses and I don’t have to, I don’t know, fight my way out of it and get arrested or on the wrong side of the power structure, like what happened to me back on my factory colony.”

“That happened to you there, too?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I might have said yes. I’ve done so before. But I never liked Shumway. I didn’t trust him. Why do you think I went from being a guard to being a janitor? I was on track to become an officer, even run for office some day. Factory is a democracy, not a hereditary monarchy like Alpha.”

“Alpha isn’t a hereditary monarchy, we have a council.”

“Who all come from the hereditary ruling class. And Polis? They only elect commanders from within a privileged gene pool. It’s a little more complex than just family lines, because they require a certain genetic marker, so one person who has it might be eligible to rule, but not their full blood sibling, or either parent, since it’s a recessive gene.”

Clare gaped at him in surprise. He caught and grinned at her. “Oh I studied, Clarke. Factory wasn’t moving me up in the world just because I’m pretty. I didn’t get bumped to the top of your space spouse list for my abs.”

Clarke couldn’t help but look down to where his soft shirt clung to his stomach. She cleared her throat. “Regardless. I won’t allow anyone to treat you like that. You’re not at their mercy. You’re mine.”

“I’m at your mercy, Clarke?” His grin slipped into a smirk, as if he’d caught her in something. “I thought I wasn’t your slave.”

Her nostrils flared. This man. “You are not my slave. I did not buy YOU, Bellamy, I bought your ticket and I cleared the bureaucracy so I didn’t have to deal with it. Fine. I used my wealth to make my life easier. And you were definitely the top of space spouse list and I used my damn money to get the best husband I could and that is you. I paid THEM for their services. Not your life. You’re not my slave. You’re not my property or my employee. Even though I have more money than you. Had. The money never meant anything to me anyway. This is our life now. Everything I have is yours. I’m your wife. You’re my husband.”

Silence filled their stateroom after her outburst and he stood there, watching her. His breath coming slowly. He was quiet so long she started to get nervous. Her fingers tangled in the nightgown she was still clutching in her hands.

“I got really lucky,” he finally said, almost reverently, “with you.” Their eyes locked. “I maybe didn’t think very closely about how this could have gone for me, how badly. Who I might have ended up with. Maybe I did think it didn’t matter, it would be the same on Eden as on Factory. I maybe thought you’d be like Shumway, or Echo. Or the rest of the privileged. I never even stopped to think that I might… like you.”

Clarke couldn’t breathe now. She was afraid that if she moved he would stop. And she could tell he had more to say. She wanted to know.

“I think…” he said. “I think we have a chance to be happy, Clarke.” He laughed like he couldn’t believe it. She bit her lip. “It wasn’t a love match. You found me on a list. Your proposition worked with my needs. I could have said no. But we fit together.” He ran his hand through his hair. “This marriage is real to me, Clarke. I’m all in. Are you?”

That was what she had been fighting all along. She didn’t need to anymore. She took a deep breath. “It’s real to me, too. I want to try for real, Bellamy. I’m in.”

He smiled at her. His eyes were so warm.

“Can I hug you Bellamy?”

He laughed. “Of course,” he said and didn’t wait for her to come to him. He wrapped his arms around her and she’d never felt so safe. Never. He was strong and kind and smart and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten to be so lucky finding him the way she did, but she was and she wasn’t going to take it for granted. She tucked her nose into the crook of his neck and god he smelled so good.

He ran his hands up and down her back and they stood like that for a while.

“Just saying, Clarke,” he said after a while. “If I get a say in this impregnation thing—“

“Of course you do. You’re my husband. We’re family.” The word sent a bigger thrill through her.

She felt him nod against her hair. “Okay then, well I’d like to try to do it the old fashioned way.”

She tensed, because god she could push him down on that bed right now and get started. But he must have only felt the tension. He pulled away from her and held onto her shoulders again. So calming and grounding.

“But I want us to wait, and take it slow. Okay? To get to know each other, to get to know Eden, so when we’re ready to have a baby, to make a family like the charter said, we’ll really be ready. And we’ll know who we are to each other and how we work together and everything.”

She didn’t move. She just stared up at him, clutching her nightgown against her stomach so she didn’t reach out. Dammit.

This was real. It was real. But she had to restrain herself, because Bellamy wasn’t a whore, she hadn’t bought his services at all. He wasn’t her property, he wasn’t a slave and what he wanted mattered. And he wanted to wait.

She nodded and smiled. “Okay.” It was her politician’s smile. The one that hid her feelings. She didn’t think he knew her well enough to read it, but he narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s a good idea. We’ll take it all one step at a time and get to know each other and our claim. Great plan.”

He looked at her sideways.

She raised her eyebrows and her chin. “We’re going into cryo sleep tomorrow morning, but when we wake up, we have another two weeks on this ship until the colony, and I will damn sure make it known to Ms. Echo and all the rest of the predatory colonists that you are mine and they are not to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Possessive. Is that what marriage means to you?”

She shook her head. “No. Protective. No one treats my husband like a thing, because he’s wonderful.”

The grin slipped off of his face and he blinked at her. His lips parted like he was having trouble breathing. She tried to make him believe her just by force of will. He shook his head and a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Go get ready for bed, Clarke. Cryo sleep isn’t restful. They said we need a full night sleep to avoid disorientation upon waking.”

“Okay,” she said. She would let him have it. She had a lifetime to convince him he was wonderful. A lifetime. She turned back to her closet while he slid under the covers of the bed.

He wanted to go slow and get to know each other. She could respect that. No matter how she wanted to kiss him for real, not just a peck here and there for show with the other colonists and officials. She wouldn’t do anything with him that he didn’t want. That was for damn sure, knowing now how he felt about privilege. Knowing his concerns about slavery. The very thought that anything about their partnership— marriage— might make him feel like a whore? She couldn’t bear it.

She sent a glance towards him and he was settling into bed, getting comfortable. He’d already said how he enjoyed the luxury of the down pillows and was planning to swipe them and stuff them into his duffel. She ducked her head and held back a laugh.

She wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want. But what if he wanted to?

She peaked at him one more time and he wasn’t asleep. He was flipping through the pamphlet that prepared them for cryo sleep. He was there. She was here. They would be sharing the bed as they had the whole two weeks they’d been on the ship, but now their marriage was real, not just business.

Clarke pulled her shoulder back and unbuttoned her silky blouse. She did not retreat to the bathroom the way she usually did. She didn’t need to hide from her husband.The blouse slid off of her shoulders and she stowed it. She reached up and let her hair down. She hadn’t cut it in a while. It reached almost to the small of her back. She felt Bellamy’s eyes on her. She didn’t look back at him.

Instead, she pulled her hair around over her shoulder and reached around to release the hook on her bra. She sighed as she took it off and she thought maybe she heard him, drawing a breath. She did not turn around but she smiled to herself as she slipped her skirt down and then her panties.

They were married. It was real. She would take it slow. Oh she would.

Clarke took her long thick hair in her hand and pulled it up on top of her head, twisting it into a loose bun, still keeping her back to Bellamy. She turned slightly, so he could see the side of her breast, and then slowly donned her nightgown.

It covered her to her knees and even the neckline was high, but it was soft and draped over her curves, and she knew he’d been watching and he’d be thinking about what was underneath it. She put everything away like a good spacer, and then locked the wardrobe door.

When she finally turned around, he was watching her, his eyes dark and heavy. She smiled.

“Tomorrow is going to be a big day,” she said. “We’d better sleep.”

He cleared his throat and nodded and turned off the light as she slid under the sheets next to him.

It felt different now. Knowing that this was real. Knowing that this was her husband. Her family. That they were a unit, not just uneasy allies. Before her skin had tingled, knowing she shared a bed with a handsome man who she might some day have sex with. Tonight, it was different. The warmth had settled deeper, inside of her. Somewhere above her stomach. She might almost have said her heart. But she wasn’t going to get sucked in again like that.

She inched closer to him. She could feel his body heat.

“I’m glad we’re doing this together, Bellamy. I’m glad it’s you. I have hope for us.”

He began rubbing her arm. “Me too Clarke. Me too. I’m glad you’re my wife.”

She put a hand on his chest. “But if you screw me over,” her voice went gravelly, “I will destroy you.”

He laughed. The bright sound filled the stateroom and it sounded like joy. She could see the gleam of his broad smile in the ship running lights. “That’s my wife,” he said. So proud.

He pulled her all the way into him and wrapped his arms around her so she could cuddle into his broad chest, and it felt so good.

“That’s my wife,” he murmured again into her temple. Her tension simply drained right out of her. Worries, fears, anger, anxiety. Even that strange buzzing sexual tension.

She just felt at home, in his arms. As much as she wanted to kiss him and more, she thought that if this was what she was allowed to have right now, she could wait. Because this was good. So good.

[hollywoodx4]

Sticking With the Schuylers (22)

Hi, thank you for reading :)

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The room smells like paint; a light and slightly pungent odor that lingers in the air, stronger in some places than others but present throughout the entire vicinity. The walls are cold stone and the floors chilled tile, but to Eliza they’re the only cool pieces to the place. There is warmth, radiating from primary colors and imperfect handwriting, chalk-dust on fingers and pattering feet on tile.

               Tiny voices resonate throughout the room, whose acoustics are perfect for projecting them even through the crowded floors space of child-sized furnishings and tiny bodies jumping around the floor. There’s an older woman in the room as well, hair just beginning to grey, who sits at the large and worn-down desk at the front. She shuffles a stack of papers idly, glancing up every so often to take notice of what is going on around her. She catches Elizabeth’s eye.

               She smiles in return before her attention is back on the task at hand; currently, she has the twenty, five year-old students around her in a circle. Her voice bellows above its usual tone as she weaves a tale for them, something from her own mind. She gauges their reactions as she spins around them, the flow of the story changing along with what they like and dislike. And there’s voices-grand voices and tiny voices, accents and hushed tones, until Eliza herself is wrapped into the fantasy world she’s created.

               “Miss Schuyler is the princess!” One of her little girls squeals as she hops on two feet, along with the tide of the story. They’re currently trying to get the princess out of the swamp and into the forest, where there’s a waiting mama bird and an old willow tree. Each of her twenty students looks on with wide, enraptured eyes. Tiny hands are cupped in front of their bodies-to hold their baby birds-each personalized to their own imagination.

               Eliza laughs, then, shaking her head.

               “We’re all the princess.”

               “No, just you-you’re the best princess of all.”

               She beams, letting the praise of her young students wash over her. They fill her with an unprecedented amount of joy; even when her lead teacher hadn’t been so accepting of a tabloid queen being placed in her classroom to student teach. Even on the days where the parents look at her differently, picking their children up from school with that same look in their eyes, the ‘I know who you are…’ No, not even the days where all twenty of her students are acting up can distract her from her happiness.

               Elizabeth Schuyler was made for teaching.

               And she repeats this, over and over, to anybody who is willing to ask. Early on it had been John who, after making her vanilla soy latte, shook his head and laughed at her with a raised hand.

               “Do you even have to work?”

               “No,” She snatches her drink from the counter and spins around, speaking to him over her retreating shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

               This year was her first year student teaching-not her first year in a classroom, however. She’d spent most of her high school years volunteering after school with middle schoolers from the inner city. She’d also been a tutor, and a safe-walk for the youngest students who couldn’t travel home through the city alone after school. And none of it had ever felt too taxing, or too much for her time. The volunteering had been fun-she played games with the middle schoolers, helped them with their homework…Eliza had built relationships with them in her four years in the program. These were children who began to look up to her-who trusted her, and looked forward to her time.

               When she entered college, Eliza had decided to switch over to tutoring more often than not. There was a certain privilege that came along with working one-on-one with somebody, sitting in quiet library atmospheres and pushing them through their next academic goal. Usually it was the languages that she taught; how to write a sentence in Spanish, the proper inflection of voice in Italian. And her students were (usually) eager, chugging along the work with her until they both had something to be proud of. She loved making children feel that pride-that sense of pure accomplishment. There’s a swelling of her heart that is set off by it, one that she’s not sure she can live without.

               Which brought her to freshman year; to Columbia, sitting through countless lectures on child safety and proper techniques and a will to do the world better.  That first day, sitting in the front of her class with all eyes suddenly on her-the snickering, the cell-phone cameras clicking in muted tones…it had driven her nuts. And every day after that, the amount of her peers who looked at her and asked why she wanted to be a teacher when she could just ‘live for free’ for the rest of her life-it bothered her to no end.

               Eliza Schuyler is driven by a passion that comes from within her; the core need within herself to bring a light to lives that weren’t touched by it. It’s the only thing she has that’s her own-outside of her family and their traditions and their rules. It’s what’s set her apart. And so when she begged her father to let her study education-had given him a speech fueled with fiery eyes and a tearful, passionate smile-he hadn’t been able to say no. In fact, he admired her drive toward her goal.

               She’d been blessed ever since.

               Today is a good day. It is Wednesday-there’s more room for free-time on Wednesday, allotted in the schedule made by the classroom teacher. It’s one of the philosophies Eliza had loved from the start. Wednesdays are for two things; celebrating the fact that the week is half over, and preparing ourselves for the other half. They also have physical education as their elective on Wednesdays, so Eliza’s allotted the time to run around the gymnasium with the rambunctious six and seven year olds, learning field hockey and basketball and jump rope as much as their young minds can be taught. And then, there’s story time.

               This is the end of the day; the kids sit or lay sprawled over the carpet, Eliza grasping their full attention as they make up a story together. Last week, it had been a rocket ship, space-themed one full of aliens and made-up science terms. They’d just completed a unit on the solar system. This week, for some reason, the idea had come to one of her students to create a princess world. It may have been the general fact that a good number of her students were obsessed with anything princess, but no matter. Miss Schuyler is excellent at improv.

               After their bonding she sends them all on their way, on one side of the door while her classroom teacher is on their other. They hug, prolonged and urgent, before meeting their after school walk home. Wednesday is also a good day because she is not on duty. Typically she looks forward to the walk-homes, accompanied by another teacher as they trek their familiar route from home to home, chatting and getting to know the children. She used to volunteer most Wednesdays anyway, just to pass the time.

               Now, she can’t wait to get back to Alexander’s.

               It’s a ritual, and beautiful in the way that it came about so naturally. The first Wednesday, the second week of their relationship, he’d asked her if she’d be too busy to come and watch reruns of How I Met Your Mother with him. He’d never seen the show, and she’d gotten him hooked on it. The caveat of the Netflix binge, however, was that he refused to watch an episode without her. It took away from the experience, he’d said, to watch without her.

               She has this silent commentary-a laugh milliseconds before a joke, a smile upon seeing a couple interact that makes the show ten times more enjoyable. And Alexander, being completely honest with himself, would admit that the show itself isn’t his absolute favorite. But Eliza’s reactions would make the grade any day of the week, any show she’d pick.

               Every Wednesday, Eliza walks the same path to Alex’s after school lets out. There’s the corner store-the old, kindly man who likes to sit and chat with passersby. Then there’s the subway station, a flower shop with a little café attached to it….

               Eliza’s distracted as she walks down the familiar route. There’s a certain level of busting throughout the city that leaves her in a transcendental moment-eyes scanning, never wanting to leave the beauty of a normal New York day. There’s nothing spectacular different about the day; the same people, the same shops…but there’s a drumming in her heart that leads her along. It’s Wednesday-it’s their day.

               An eager excitement; yearning, calling-it wills her feet to move faster, her posture higher, her smile wider. Elizabeth Schuyler does not want to hide her face. She does not want to look away-even when a stranger leaves their volume on as they pass, sound effects of a camera obvious to her trained ears. She almost wishes she’d stopped for a photo. But the drumming beats on.

               The drumming beats on and soon it is rapid-frantic. She shakes her head as her breathing becomes staggered, choking and holding. A cool, venomous numbness courses from the tense muscles of her shoulders through her tendons. Each ligament holds its own proportion of the sinking weight but each dose is lethal. Suddenly, she’s immobile. Suddenly, she’s back to last year again. Suddenly.

               Her body reacts before her mind can process the picture of what she’s just seen. And then it happens all at once; flashes of the past meld into the present so fast that she has trouble distinguishing the difference. There is no line between reality and memory, only a frantic, blurred frenzy of vision that she can’t seem to piece into coherent thoughts. But there’s a moment-a vivid, horrifying moment-where those memories come together and inhabit themselves into her present.

               Those memories find themselves in a body; in a pair of boots distressed by their manufacturer; dark wash jeans only worn twice before deemed useless. Then, there’s the copper-colored jacket, with an inanimate ability to smother her in its authentic leather scent and warmth-turned-ember heat.

               Brown eyes engulf her in flames-angry, rippling. Ever-present. And there is so much to be read in those dark orbs, so much that she finds them to be crystal balls, all-telling about the future ahead. What would the path be like tonight, now that he’d come home? She’d wait in a semi-visible spot, eyes trained on the door, a casual cover activity in her hands.                The jingling of keys.

               The clicking of an open door.

               His eyes were always ashen. Coal-ridden. Ready to be stoked and brought to a furious life.

               It takes her longer to pull her phone from her bag than it does to make the decision. Her thumb barely hovers over the green call button this time. She’s certain, sure. Terrified.

               The other line only rings once before it’s picked up.

               Eliza can barely form a sentence, lips caught in a tremor as her eyes scan the area on constant state of observance. The line of reality is still blurred. Her vision is blurred. A buzzing resides throughout every fiber of her body. The voice on the phone calls her name. She shakes her head.

“Okay, so I might be going crazy but just keep talking to me while I walk and don’t freak out.” It comes out in a sort of jargon barely understood, but somewhere between her cut-off words and shaking voice he’s able to understand most of what she’s said.

“What’s…why?” Alexander. If her body could speak it would shout his name to the heavens, wrap it within herself for safe keeping. A portion of her tension rises. She can walk. Her limbs begin to move faster. Her eyes continue to search.

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

“Tell me now, you’re making me nervous.”

“Okay, I’m by the crepe place on Columbus and I-I don’t know if it was real or if it was just-I think-I’m pretty sure I just saw James.”

“You mean-“

“Yeah.” A pause. Eliza’s not even sure what she’s agreeing to-her head is swimming, begging to find its place anywhere away from this transcendental nightmare.  “Are you there?”

“You’re on Columbus?”

“Yeah”

“Keep walking, I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me and listen around you.”

“Alex, it’s okay. I should be fine. I’m probably just seeing things.”

“I’m on my way.” Alexander’s tone is so gruff, so certain, that it takes her a moment to collect herself. She can practically see him now-through the tone of his voice his body is tensed but his movements are chaotic, sporadic. There’s an inflection in the natural timbre of his voice that leads her to believe that he’s nervous, running. There’s not a moment where he’s not running. There’s a certain comfort in knowing that he’s running to her.

“Okay.”

“Where did you see him?”

“It probably wasn’t even him.”

“Eliza.”

“Coming out of a diner.”

“I swear to god Eliza if I see him.” He lets the sentence linger, piecing the rest of it together in his own mind while she does the same. Both completions are frantic, worrisome. Neither is tame. She breathes in the cold air, counting, when she sees him-he waves a frantic arm at her, weaving in and out of the crowd that separates them. And as he approaches there’s a moment-a collapse.

She finds herself crying into the shoulder of Alexander’s hoodie in disbelief. Her body shakes back and forth along with his-he’s clutching onto her; underneath her shoulders, on her waist, until his hands finally find space on the small of her back. Her own have trouble weaving themselves out of his grasp to return the embrace so instead she sighs into it, letting the weight leave her body as her eyes close in an involuntary reflex of relief.

Look at those eyes.

There’s an earthiness about the deep brown-soft and concerned when he finally pulls away to look her over. He’s a steadfast presence, one hand wrapped soft around her waist and unwilling to let go. Alexander is soft actions and pure intentions, guiding her down the street the way he came. He wills his mind to dodge the flurry of questions that rattle his mind and instead asks her about her day-her students, her time. She leans her head on his shoulder, an arm around his waist.

Eliza is warm. Eliza is happy. Eliza is safe.

Schuyler by Day: Eliza’s Arm-candy in NYC Daylight.

               Kudos to the fan photographer who snapped recent photographs of social media starlet and senator’s daughter Elizabeth Schuyler walking downtown with a new man on her arm-and in his arms, too. The couple was spotted walking along Columbus late Wednesday afternoon, Schuyler dressed in an impeccable powder-blue bow-front Chanel dress. Her arm candy? Jeans and a layered look, long-sleeved Columbia shirt being the forefront.

               What shocked us more? The new man’s new do, how different his look differs from ex James Reyonld’s? Or was it the thought of Reynolds himself, who was quoted just last week by a reliable source saying just how much he wanted Schuyler back? What do you think? Team #Jeliza, or Team #Mysteryman? Either way, we’re pretty sure the luckiest man is any man who gets a Schuyler.

                               The newspaper crinkles as it closes.

               He folds it, twice one way and twice the other, before tucking it in the back pocket of his dark jeans.

               He rises from the table, wooden legs creaking against old floors, leaving a twenty dollar bill before heading to the counter.

               “Americano to go. Quickly.” He slides another twenty across the counter, voice smooth and seductive behind shining eyes and a pearly white grin. The barista holds back a flustered giggle, blinking at him before asking for his name.

               It’s record time when his drink comes out, before five others that had been standing in line before him. They scoff as he passes them, swaggering steps, to the counter.

               “I have an Americano for James.”

[citadelsushi]

Mind Over Matter Ch. 5

A canon divergent fic. Human kind is left scared and angry after The Council bans them from further space travel after the First Contact War. Director Udina plans to use the Alliance to rid Earth of biotics, who are viewed as alien in their own right. Cerberus has other plans for their abilities and is more than happy to provide Shepard the resources she needs to build a team and fight back. Of course, help from The Illusive Man always comes with strings attached.

Chapters 1-4 found here.

Few words were spoken once aboard the shuttle. Jacob, the pilot, introduced himself to Shepard and Kaidan as they boarded, but his greeting was all but ignored.

Addyson had waited, her entire body made rigid by fearful anticipation, half expecting to be shot down as soon as they cleared the station. But Gagarin's defense systems didn't power on and the shuttle's scanners had showed no one in pursuit. Miraculously, it seemed they had escaped the station before anyone had been alerted to the bodies they had left behind in the hangar. Shepard wondered if luck or incompetence was to thank for their smooth departure.

Shepard hadn't even had the chance to ask where they were headed when Miranda announced they had arrived at their destination. She and Kaidan shared a puzzled look as the shuttle door opened and they realized they were inside a ship. A large ship. The docking bay to which they exited was more than spacious, even with stockpiles of cargo and two shuttles now parked inside.

Forest green eyes scanned over the bay before landing on Miranda, who was already on her way to the elevator at the far side of the dock.

“Whose ship is this?”

Miranda halted and turned on her heels, her striking features contorted into a look of irritation. “If you two would follow me, I will tell you.”

The Australian turned again and continued into the elevator, where she dramatically tapped her foot.

“Don't let me hit her.” Shepard muttered in Kaidan's direction.

                           Keep reading below or on AO3 or FF.net

The corners of his lips turned up into a small smirk, but faded quickly. He fell in at her side and they walked together to the elevator without another word. Addyson snuck a glance up at Alenko and felt her heart ache for him. Though he was trying to look at ease, she could see the muscle in his jaw keeping it clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. She was sure Kaidan would explode if he didn't get answers soon.

“Lieutenant Shepard? Alenko?” Jacob appeared at her side, his arm outstretched. “I didn't get to introduce myself properly on the shuttle. Jacob Taylor, former Alliance.”

The man shook her hand, then reached across to shake Kaidan's. Shepard hadn't paid him much attention on their flight, but now her eyes passed over him in a swift, subjective sweep. Jacob was attractive, that much was certain; his skin was dark and his eyes were a deep, coffee brown. His frame was heavily muscled but lean, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist.

“Former?”

“Yeah, I left them a couple years ago. Didn't like the direction they were headed, you know?” Shepard breathed a cynical laugh; she knew all too well. “Don't worry about Miranda. She's not so bad once you get to know her.”

Shepard snorted, her eyes flitting to Kaidan's, intending to include him in her disbelief that Miranda could be anything but insufferable. His eyes, however, were trained on Jacob, narrowed in disapproval.

“We'll see about that.” Addyson answered absentmindedly, focusing her eyes forward again.

All four rode in the elevator, an air of mutual dislike surrounded them. It seemed Kaidan shared the same indifference for Jacob that Shepard did for Miranda, though she wasn't sure why. The man had barely said a word to them, and aside from supporting Miranda, had given her no reason to dislike him. Yet.

The elevator doors opened and Miranda stepped out. “Come with me. The Illusive Man wants to speak with you.”

Shepard's eyes narrowed. She wanted to ask who the hell The Illusive Man was, and why he gave himself such an egomaniacal title, but she knew Miranda wouldn't answer. Kaidan seemed to share her resignation because he stepped out in silence along with her, Jacob trailing them as they followed Miranda through the ship.

Whoever the Illusive Man is, he must be well funded.

The brief glances she caught of the ship had nearly made her jaw drop to the floor. It was beautifully designed; the CIC was expansive, the bridge stretched far enough she could barely make out the pilot's chair, and they passed through an impressive armory before entering a com room.

Jacob found a corner to lean against while Miranda keyed something into a console at the table in the center of the room, and it lowered into the floor. A holographic curtain surrounded Miranda as she stepped onto the new platform. Not wanting to be left out of the loop, Shepard followed her, as did Kaidan. The interface scanned each of their bodies from head to toe, and when it finished, they were no longer in the com room.

At least, it appeared that way. Before them was a large, mostly empty room, with sleek dark floors that seemed to extend out into space. The walls were transparent, looking out over the void; a massive dying star served as it's backdrop, it's molten surface constantly shifting color and design. In the center sat a man, his face mostly obscured by shadows, his legs crossed, a drink in one hand and a cigarette raised to his lips in the other.

“Miranda.” He exhaled her name on a cloud of smoke. “Lieutenant Shepard, Lieutenant Alenko. You two look a little underdressed.”

“Illusive Man.” Miranda greeted him warmly.

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring his remark about their attire, or lack thereof. “I thought we'd be meeting in person.”

“A necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what you and I know.” The dark haired man sipped from his glass.

“What is it that you know, exactly?” Kaidan stepped forward, his arms folded across his chest just as firmly as her own.

“Ah, Lieutenant Alenko.” The Illusive Man inhaled deeply on his cigarette. “I admit, I didn't expect to see you. My sources tell me you were already taken into custody on Gagarin.”

Shepard felt Kaidan tense beside her, an unseen flare of his biotics tingled against her skin, inciting hers to respond in kind. Whoever this mysterious figure was, he had to have people hidden among the staff on Jump Zero. How else could he have known that Alenko had been locked up?

“Cut the bullshit,” Shepard dropped her arms to her sides, “who are you?”

The man rose and stepped toward their holographic forms. Now, Shepard could see his face in full. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and his face wore heavy wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that matched his grim expression. What stood out most, however, were his eyes. They shone eerily with artificial blue light, with what looked like cybernetics glowing in his irises. They were haunting.

“Who I am is irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things.” Again, he took a drag on his cigarette. “All you need to know is that Captain Anderson trusted me to help you, Shepard.”

Shepard shook her head, “I'm gonna need more than that if we're going to work with you.”

“I have humanity's best interest at heart, Shepard. Director Udina thinks that biotics are undermining our success as a species, I believe you are our future.”

“So we're just supposed to believe you're some billionaire philanthropist with a soft spot for biotics?” Kaidan pointed an accusatory finger at the man, “What are you getting from this?”

“This isn't about me, it's about our future! Udina is holding us back! What he has planned is going to cause irreparable damage to our species!” The Illusive Man turned his back to them and took a long drag of his cigarette, chasing it with a sip of liquor before turning back to them. “Believe whatever you want, Alenko. The fact is, I'm your only hope of putting an end to Director Udina's plans.”

Shepard's eyes didn't leave the Illusive Man, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Kaidan rock back on his heels, easing up as he mulled it over. Kaidan was right; everything about this man made her uneasy. He was secretive, short-fused, and clearly connected enough to be well informed. Still, the Illusive Man had a point; they needed his resources if they were going to put an end to this. Anderson was working the inside, but they needed more than information to succeed. They needed guns, armor, more people, a ship. All of which this man seemed more than willing to provide.

Whatever his motivations, she would have to take that risk.

“What exactly are you expecting?”

“My expectations are aligned with Captain Anderson's. Find the crew he asked you to recruit, expose Udina, and bring his plans to a halt before the Alliance exterminates you all.” The Illusive Man breathed smoke. “I'm giving you the resources. The rest is up to you.”

The Illusive Man returned to his chair, taking another swig from his glass before disconnecting the call. The hologram dissipated and they were back in the com room, Jacob still looking on from the corner of the room.

“No doubt you both have a lot of questions.” Miranda stepped off the platform.

Kaidan snorted as he stepped down as well. “You could say that.”

Shepard pressed her palm to her forehead scrubbing it over her face and closing her eyes. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was feeling the effects of not eating and using her biotics so heavily. “How long are we going to be on this ship?”

“A couple hours, tops.” Jacob spoke up.

She raised an eyebrow in Miranda's direction. Standard ships could get to Jump Zero from Earth in a matter of minutes, and this ship seemed a grade above standard.

“The Normandy is more technologically advanced than any ship manufactured by the Alliance. It is equipped with a stealth system that will allow us to drift for hours undetected. Once we're sure the Alliance isn't aware we're here, we'll land at one of Cerberus's facilities on Earth.”

Cerberus?

Air emptied her lungs in a rush as Shepard sighed and pushed her fingers back through her hair. Hunger was gnawing at her and it was beginning to feel like her mind was floating, the room spinning faintly around her. At this point, she just needed some food. Maybe some pants. If they were going to be on this ship a while, questions could wait.

“Right. I'm assuming this ship has a med bay?” Addyson glanced to Miranda, who nodded in the affirmative, then to Kaidan. “Alenko, you should really go see the doctor on board.”

Amber eyes clouded with frustration stared back at her, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Shepard cut him off.

“See the doctor, get a change of clothes, and find me after.”

Though they were the same rank, Alenko recognized an order when he heard one, and he managed to choke back his argument. “Aye aye, ma'am.”

“Lieutenant Alenko, the med bay is on deck three and we've arranged for you to stay in the starboard lounge.” Miranda offered. “You'll find suitable clothing there.”

Alenko offered a short, but polite, thank you to Miranda, but his eyes stayed locked on Shepard's. The intensity she found there was startling; he was angry, and that anger was boring into her soul.

Addyson refused to look away. “And me?”

“Shepard, you'll be in the loft. Deck one.” Jacob answered her question and another flash of anger flickered across Alenko's eyes.

“Great. Alenko, come up when you're done with the doc.”

Frustration overtook her and Shepard strode from the room. After finding Alenko crumpled on the floor, following Lawson blindly onto a strange ship, and finding that the ship apparently belonged to a ghost of a man who headed an organization called Cerberus, Shepard had about reached her daily limit for bullshit. The resentful look Alenko had just stared her down with was the last thing she had wanted to see.

Footsteps echoed behind her, but she didn't stop; she pushed through the armory and ignored the numerous looks she received in the CIC, focusing on getting to the elevator before whoever was following could catch up with her.

The doors hissed shut just as Alenko appeared in front of her.

[registeringbusinessadvisory-blog]

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