#like prime is supposed to be the baseline right?

[night-panda]

Just thought if something. Now that we have confirmation that our Morty is in fact Morty Prime, he’s the only Morty that we can confirm wasn’t somehow manufactured by a Rick, either through cloning or manipulating Beth/Jerry. I guess that’s why he’s the Mortiest Morty.

[earthsparked]

You’ve never been this sick before. You’ve had tonsillitis as a kid, typical flus and colds, a memorable bout or three with bronchitis and, of fucking course, came down with covid a couple times. None of those illnesses were like this. Something has gotten inside your head.

You make a quiet noise of complaint as what feels like cold metal surrounds you, painful against your hot skin, even through the blanket wrapped around you. You feel so cold, but you’re sweaty and dizzy. The world isn’t right. Everything’s too big and bright and moving wrong. Your head’s stuffed full of cotton and you’re not thinking right. And there’s a voice you don’t know, rich and deep, with a strange modulation to it you can’t place.

Sorry, little one, but your internal temperature is creeping past the danger zone for your species with no signs of stopping. Much higher and you’re risking processor damage. Don’t be afraid, we’re going to help you.

A machine sort of noise and rush of air, with a very quiet addition you don’t quite catch. I hope.

You are too sick to do much of anything except feel horribly confused, weak, and cold. You flinch away from the light, its brightness like ice picks into your head. There’s another voice snapping something about photosensitivity, dim the slagging lights. The brightness fades, but even in the dim twilight you don’t really want to open your eyes. Everything hurts. You just want to go home.

There’s a hushed argument, and then something very large moves over you. In your delirium it registers as if you’re swimming deep underwater, and a pod of whales has come to say hello.

‘S illegal. Getting me in trouble…caught. You’re mumbling to the whales. You’re not ever supposed to approach wildlife. Even if you always dreamed of meeting them.

That rumbling voice sounds so tired, so sad, that you feel bad for it.

Are they conscious? Are they trying to communicate with us?

A pause. The other voice speaks. There’s a sense of something big hovering directly over you. You can feel it somehow, even with your eyes closed, like feeling a current in the ocean.

No, I don’t think so. Their brain activity is alarming compared to baseline. But who in the Pit knows? Organic processors are a mess to begin with, let alone one infected with something this species has never encountered before.

A big blue whale-song, mournful. We never should have come here. What have we done, Ratchet?

The other, more gruff voice. Also sounding tired. We couldn’t have known that the debris brought a contagion planetside until it happened. Don’t panic just yet, Prime. So far, they’re the only one directly exposed. We got them in quarantine as soon as Nurse Darby realized something was wrong beyond the usual illnesses. It was just bad luck they happened to come across the contamination before we could clean it all up. There’s no reason to believe it can jump from human to human yet.

There’s a pause, and the first voice is even quieter.

Will they live?

There’s more motion. Beeping noises. You must be in a hospital. Yes, you remember that much. Going into the ER late one night after the Tylenol wouldn’t touch your fever, which had come on suddenly.

I can’t make promises, you know that. I don’t know much about this contagion. I didn’t even know it could behave this way in organics when it’s harmless to us.

He sounds frustrated.

But I was fine, the groggy thought drifts up from the depths of your mind. Everything is slow and dark and cold, a thousand fathoms deep.

I was fine, I went out doing my volunteer work. And then I got sick.

You don’t remember meeting your doctors. There might have been an ambulance…you think? Flashing lights, sirens. A woman’s worried voice, low, as she adjusted the IV in your arm. It’s what is making you feel so cold, you decide, and with all your frail strength begin trying to grab and wrench it out.

An immediate shuffle around you, and the grumpy whale reaches out and stops you. You push weakly at its rubbery flipper. It’s a whale, a humpback whale you think. You have about as much chance of moving it as you do lifting an ambulance.

Eh-eh-eh! None of that, now. You pull that out and neither of us will enjoy me trying to put it back in. Optimus, hand me the - yes, thank you.

You whimper softly and cry out as you find you can’t move. There’s things touching you - seaweed, wires, tangling you. Everything’s cold.

There. Sorry, human, but we can’t have you hurting yourself. …why am I even talking to them, they’re not going to remember any of this.

You huff and decide very hard to remember this just because you were told you wouldn’t. You forget a minute later what it was you were trying to remember, and start thrashing around against the seaweed. The beeping gets louder, more painful.

Can’t ever make anything easy, can you?

What are you doing?

I’m going to use the medication June left to sedate them.

But didn’t she say that could -

Yes, but - well, look at them!

Look at who? You wonder, as you fight off the tangling seaweed. You should find the surface. You need to breathe. You’re starting to feel scared. You can’t breathe.

The humpback whale is distressed. Somehow you can feel it, you know it. If they were a mech I could put them in stasis, keep them from suffering like this. This is cruel, Optimus. I - I don’t know.

He sounds defeated, angry. So tired. You reach out past the seaweed to try and pet him, because if the whales are going to insist on hanging out, you might as well earn that huge fine for touching the wildlife. Your sensitive palm makes contact with cold, hard skin, almost like it’s absorbed all the ice in the ocean. There’s a feeling of surprise, and silence, and then something crashes like a wave in the distance. There are big booming sounds. Those waves slamming into rocky, echoing caverns.

Watch them a moment. I’m going to consult with June. Do not let them tear that IV out. Comm me if their breathing gets worse.

The big blue whale is back, filling in the absence of the humpback. It catches your hand in its massive flipper, then brushes your wet hair out of your face. You had always heard whales were impossibly gentle despite their enormous size. You hadn’t quite imagined they could be this dexterous, though.

I’m sorry this happened to you. You did nothing wrong. You and so many other innocents, harmed because of us.

You squeeze his flipper, you think, but things are getting very hazy.

Please live. There is so much more to the universe that you deserve to get to see. I don’t know if you can hear me, but don’t give up.

His voice, even full of pain deep as the bottom of the sea, is comforting. You don’t want him to be so sad. But that’s what whalesong always is, isn’t it?

The humpback comes back. He’s doing something with the IV. You had no idea whales knew how to do that. You didn’t know they could be white and red, either. Don’t tell Ahab.

June says to increase the dosage and keep giving fluids. The tests she’s running show this formulation should drive out the infection, but…

But?

…but not without…impacts.

What kind of impacts? …Ratchet?

We can’t be sure. This is all highly experimental, Prime, we’re working off of practically nothing. June thinks it’s doing something to their central nervous system. We don’t know what, yet. It’s going to be a race to see what gives in first: the infection, or their vital systems.

A rumble, contemplative. At least they seem to have calmed. Their heart rate is down to almost normal.

For now. A pause. If they recover, we can’t keep this one. Fowler can find somewhere to stash them, I’m sure.

Silence.

Oh, for - Optimus! We’re not running a xeno-zoo!

Let us wait and see if that is even a conversation we will need to have, old friend.

Disgruntled feelings like poprocks in your mind.

…fine. Oh.

Oh?

Their fever has come down two-tenths of a point. That’s a start in the right direction. Let’s get that oxygen mask on and see if it helps. Of all the gasses to breathe, they had to pick one of the most flammable. Who even designed this fragging species? I want a word with them.

The whales are singing, and you decide it’s not so scary down here, after all. It reminds you of that song. You wheeze out a few words.

Beyond th’ sea, somewhere…waiting…

Hush. Rest, now. Big blue, biggest animal ever on earth. And for some reason, it cares about you.

You fall asleep under a blanket of seaweed, and eventually the ocean doesn’t feel so cold. You’re part of a pod, swimming slowly compared to them, but swimming all the same. And at least you’re not alone down in the dark. Maybe when you wake, you’ll get to see them breach the surface, leaping into the warmth of the sun. Maybe you’ll get to leap with them.

[terfintheweb]

i'm bitter and autistic but i think the internet actually has exacerbated the mental health crisis way more than we give it credit for. like we almost exclusively blame capitalism and the way society is set up and that's fair, but i think the unlimited access to other people is all that's needed in order to become the kind of person who hates people.

before every single person decided they needed to compulsively broadcast every little thing about them whenever we met a particularly shitty or fucked up person we could go, "hey, it's one person. they're just weird." now everywhere you look there's another sicko doing the same thing and/or worse

when i was a kid and struggling with my autism i'd think i was just an alien and everyone else had been born with this inherent knowledge of the world that was completely inaccessible to me and i would never be able to catch up. and that's definitely true. but now i think neuotrypicals are the fucked up ones.

i fundamentally do not understand other people and the things they think are okay and normal. i guess i'm a prude but i just think all of it is so fucking weird.

like how everyone is so obsessed with drugs and alcohol to the point where you're not even allowed to have your wedding not have booze there or you're called selfish?? and people get weird if you don't drink??? "even kids drink!" they say, as if that's normal??

and the normalization of being stoned ALL the time is just crazy. you need to be able to exist without marijuana SOMETIMES.

not to mention party/sex drugs being treated like a baseline experience for everyone young.

bdsm, "sex work", porn, kink/fetish, it's all fetishized domestic violence and it's everywhere.

"if your kids are online they've seen it all already" being treated like it's ok. it's not.

polyamory threesomes sex parties orgies yada yada and like when you're not on the internet you get to pretend most people are normal and doing normal shit. there's nowhere on the internet you get to pretend that.

the TRA nonsense??? misogyny is in its prime right now and nothings being done.

then there's people treating everyone they know like a potential notch on their bedpost. i saw someone talk about how their polyamorous friend came to them propositioning their husband. like that is supposed to be normal now?? you call yourself polyamorous so now you get to treat other people's relationships like pawns in your sex life. people shouldn't have to beat you over the head with the fact they're monogamous for you to think, "maybe i shouldn't try to have sex with my friend's spouse." that is CRAZY behaviour.

but i'm a prude for thinking sex should be private, non-violent, safe, consensual, and between two adults. even though you'd think that would be the standard. but now you get called a friggin puritan if you say not everything is ethically ok just because it turns you on.

cuz apparently you can either be okay with people walking their half-naked boyfriends on leashes in public where anyone can see or you're basically a caricature of an old timey woman, fainting at the prospect of showing her ankle.

it's all just so bad right now. tiktok is fun but it's also a dopamine pit fucking with our attention spans. the internet is being taken over by AI and somehow, despite decades warning about that exact thing, everyone's ok with it. the internet delivers vices right to your home. you can become a gambling addict on accident by downloading apps now. great! wonderful! so glad this is how we're spending our lives!

it's absolutely bizarre feeling suicidal at 26 for the exact same reason you felt suicidal at 7. i have just honestly given up on ever finding anyone who feels the way i feel atp. i used to get frustrated that i don't like (or relate to) my own ""community"" but i just don't like anyone, apparently.

ive been in therapy for e ver and they always insist i should try to socialize but honestly the more i try to mask and socialize the less i feel like a person at all. it just feels worse. i don't relate to anyone and no one relates to me. except my sister, but i basically raised her. so like, whatever. i give up. it would've been nice to be able to have friends or date or whatever but i'm so tireddddddddddd. hermits aint gotta do all this shit theyre onto smthn.

sometimes i miss being a part of the TRA cult like yes i was brainwashed and stupid but at least i was able to make friends and i felt like i wasn't the only person feeling the way i feel. i wasn't okay with all of it but i was able to convince myself i was. now i just... cannot seem to get around how i actually feel, which happens to be the opposite way that everyone else feels. classic

[quillneriine]

I just spent a whole day writing (personal project, not related to fandom stuff) and you know what would make me feel better?

Yeah, that's right, more writing (this is what I get for making writing my hobby and also my side-career, but I love it so I'm happy).

Because I have too many ideas, here's a poll to see which one I should work on next.

Here's the basic idea behind each of them so you're not just wondering what they're supposed to be:

D-16 Applies to the High Guard (Sole Survivor Prima AU Divergence) - One-Shot

If you don't know what my Sole Survivor Prima AU is, it's essentially an AU where Prima survives Sentinel and the Quintessons' ambush in the cave but the other Primes don't. He's the sole ruler of Iacon. It has hints of Primatronus, and also D-16 is Primatronus' sparkling in this AU. Although, note that his personality is mostly based off of the Covenant of Primus and not the usual one you may see from others.

In this fanfic, I mentioned before that D-16 could have actually met Prima much sooner than in the actual AU. So this is a divergence from the actual plot of the AU. This doesn't really have OPMeg like in the original since in this one D-16 never met Pax and continued on to apply to the High Guard. He ends up meeting Prima because of his application.

SG TF:One - A Better World -- Multichapter

I need to make SG!D-16/Megatron suffer so bad /j Okay so essentially, I just wanted to write a fic where SG!Megatron ends up in baseline TF:One... but at the same time not really. I can't say what I mean by this cause it's a literal plot twist/spoiler. But yeah, that's the premise lmao. This will have possessive Optimus (because I love possessive OP).

I can't really say much about this since the actual premise is in itself a bit of a spoiler/plot twist. The focus here is OPMeg (obviously). It's actually supposed to be psychological horror/horror. The emphasis here is that he thinks he's in the baseline tf:one universe but well... let's just say he's not. Other than those hints, I can't really say more otherwise I risk giving away the plot twist.

Prima's POV (Sole Survivor Prima AU) - Multichapter

If you don't know what my Sole Survivor Prima AU is, it's essentially an AU where Prima survives Sentinel and the Quintessons' ambush in the cave but the other Primes don't. He's the sole ruler of Iacon. It has hints of Primatronus, and also D-16 is Primatronus' sparkling in this AU. Although, note that his personality is mostly based off of the Covenant of Primus and not the usual one you may see from others.

This is a long fic focusing on Prima's relationship with some of the other Primes (especially Megatronus), what happened during Sentinel's ambush, and the events that transpired afterwards. D-16 and Pax do show up like eventually at the end, but this mostly focuses on Prima (because he has somehow become a favorite of mine, at least Covenant of Primus!Prima lmao).

[fifteenloove]

you can’t convince me that the response to Jiri and Casper’s reaction to their loss to Jannik has nothing to do with the fact that they have beaten Carlos in the last year 😭 I mean cmon if their mentality is so bad then why have they managed to get wins against him (tbf Carlos was sick in Turin), like Jannik is not only winning bc his opponents are waving the white flag

I mean I know that it’s not only coming from Carlos fans and that most Carlos fans aren’t like this and it’s also not meant to be negative against Carlos whatsoever (I really like watching him play and think he’s great and very likeable). It’s just amusing to see people who presumably never played a sport professionally or really competed at a high level be so quick to judge an athletes mentality based on an IG caption or them responding to a question idk. I found it especially weird coming from fellow Casper fans, bc if you don’t like his attitude towards tennis, then go find someone else. I, for one, appreciate that he seems well-adjusted and has a seemingly healthy, rounded outlook on life. He’s also come forward about how seeking psychological help has benefited him. Imo there’s not one approach that fits all when it comes to mentality/ mental preparation for an upcoming competition. With Casper it’s also a matchup issue. Casper’s pace and the way he hits and shapes the ball just doesn’t bother Jannik. That wouldn’t change if he suddenly develops some kind of mamba mentality killer instinct.

Okay, let's talk about this mentality thing:

of course having a good mentality is important in tennis. There are countless of players who become too passive during important points, who decide to run away from them trying stupid shots, essentially players who choke. I'm not saying that mentality is not important. Casper is a special case, isn't he? I don't think it's even fair anymore to put him into this conversation considering that he was injured against Jannik in Rome and despite the fact that he didn't even play badly at the start of the match he still found himself down two breaks (seriously, I don't know if they've seen those first 4 games– there were basically no unforced errors by Casper there, Jannik was just in a state of grace, every return was coming back on the baseline, every shot was at insane angles with insane power, it really looked like Casper was playing against a wall). Now we can have a conversation about Casper being too nice in general: with Nadal, with Jannik, with Carlos, for sure (even if at some point we have to acknowledge the match-up issues, guys, mentality can only do so much and that is valid for Jannik too). We can talk about his problems in big finals. But it also seems unfair, to me, to judge a player for what he says in a presscon following a loss. We don't know why they answer like that. People were saying that Carlos was also "too soft" based on his pre-tournament statements in MC and look how it turned out😭 anyway.

About some Carlos's fans (ON TWITTER, don't come for me on anon) it's a bit of coping, in a way "He's not that good, it's just that his opponents bend over" and look, Jannik's fans also say some stupid shit sometimes in the name of coping, so it's not just a Carlos's fans thing💀 I suppose that's part of every sport's fandom. I don't think they're right, again, Jannik lost plenty of sets in the last 52 weeks to peaking opponents. I mean, in Rome he dropped a set 1-6 against Tommy Paul and he had just won the previous match 6-0 6-1. In Australia he lost a set to Schoolkate who looked like prime Federer at the net. Etcheverry absolutely redlined during their match in Shanghai. But even Griekspoor and Demon played great matches against him at the Davis Cup and they still lost. I could bring you hundreds of examples. Yeah also, I don't think that Jiri's mentality is that bad considering he beat Carlos not so long ago in a match that looked lost for him, he was down a break in the final set, wasn't he? So there's that. And they also ignore the fact that there are plenty of players who say the same things about Carlos after a loss and they don't accuse them of bending over but instead they're flattered bu their words😭 Lorenzo, after the sf in Rome, basically said he's unbeatable on clay. Fils said the same in MC. So

And one day they'll have to explain to me how it's possible for a player who supposedly has "no aura" like they always say to instill so much fear into his opponents, to the point they don't even start playing🤔🤔🤔 a mystery

[antisolanum]

Literally the solution to the housing issue is to just buy up some old poorly-run shitty apartment buildings in various urban areas in each state, give them a little polish-up and make sure they're up to code, and provide studio apartments as the baseline for anyone with a social security number (that's not an anti-immigrant thing, I just mean for establishing a baseline of rights for the people living in the country, blah blah blah) like the only reason there is a housing crisis at all is because housing is too expensive, and it's expensive because there's no real competition in the market, it's private rental or nothing for most people, and the competition would have to be something free established as a baseline. There's no reason you can't still sell someone on renting an apartment, but you would have to justify it, like having a prime location and nice services and a nicer apartment and a reasonable price. And if businesses can't compete because it's just not profitable enough, that's fine! They can just sell those buildings to the government and they'll turn them into more public housing! It's literally just the solution to the problem, and the only reason nobody has done it is because our government has open corruption, it's literally just that it would be less profitable to have free basic public housing. How are we not supposed to have an open revolution at this point? Like, sincerely? What does our government even do for us?

[lostacelonnie]

Ah hell my bad i did get. Really busy & really tired the end of year holidays are busy & really draining. I am a sea person but im glad that resonates with non sea people too. People try & talk to you often there? I dont know a whole section of verb conjugation so im not sure how id do there. Fried bread & cinnamon sugar what a peak combination thank you churros. Same i need to pick up more spanish food recipes. Oh? Thats a good start actually. Knowing simple stuff like eggs or grilled cheese or uh. Chicken noodle soup are good baselines. I mean. Yeah same to a degree. I turn them on when im reading or walking/going places. Keeps me focused. Mag is good. Same with nightvale & alice isnt dead. Thats some solid luck kudos to everyone for not getting attacked by gulls. Id wonder about that too australia seems. Nice but very weird. Like their one prime minister who walked into the ocean & disappeared. Kudos to her for finding one she likes & gets along with enough to move there. Ah nothin like light hearted roasting among friends love that for you. Oh jeesh thats like my geometry teacher i had once. Dude would get distracted & then skip stuff he was supposed to help us learn. & still test us on it. Had a different math teacher help me sometimes because he was better at teaching. Hell yeah english teacher for the save. She sounds cool. I dont have time for meta so like. Why bother when if something works it works? Oh is honkai meta that hard? Do i need to focus on that on the way through the story? Oh thats way better like star rail having a pick your own on standard after x amount of pulls. What genshin's fate system could be if it was good. Hmm im not sure where even to start. I guess about himeko. Like her place in the story & what her story in hi3 is. Since i doubt its similar to in hsr. Hell she does have that vibe doesnt she? Chill piracy milf in a way. I hope she becomes playable. A thirty minite backstory? Must be a heck of a joke. Or because of all the polish nuance. Thanks! Ill have to see how she plays of course but personality wise she's good. Fontaine has killed it with interesting characters. Oh? Why the screen limit is it a doctors orders thing? & no worries about that life hit me hard so i understand. Ah thanks im getting to where gear matters a bit so ill need that luck. Need to up talents & such more though. Makes sense then but damn 4 pm as the other option? Both of those aren't super great. I live close to my work which is nice but i still have to wake up 2 hours before for early days because otherwise i wont wake i am not a morning person. 4 am? Hell mad respect for that i could never im barely a person some days at that hour i definitely wouldnt be. Oh nice congrats! On the exam & the history memes. At least your friends are becoming nerds with you. Important group activity. Im caught up on show & manga releases but i do need to read the spin off still when i can find it. Claire has protag rights to one name

AH ITS OK i just. Dont trust tumblr to function properly AJSKFJJH. but ah wishing you some time to chill soon. i understand tho since its the end of the first semester in my school so literally every teacher is trying to squeeze in as many tests as possible. yeah sjdkfkkskdf thats one thing everyone can agree on i suppose!! and it really is like that!! the stereotype about spanish people being seemingly All Extroverted is. much more true than i expected it to be. especially when compared to poland where everyone just more or less minds their own business. and not knowing the language that well proved to be less of an issue than i thought actually!! as in. i do Not speak spanish very well but through a series of trial and error combined with a lot of gesticulation i managed to communicate well enough. AND FOR REAL good lird. they were so right for that. and thanks!! i can more or less follow intermediate recipes so i can Survive more or less. and ahh thats fair, i unfortunately cant really listen to stuff outside my house as i only own headphones and not earphones and i dont like being Completely disconnected from the sound around me when im not at home. but very understandable. ANYWAY YEAH AUSTRALIA IS. A PLACE. i heard about that one prime minister yeah..... wild...... and yeah ajdkfjg me and my friends have been dissing each other for a Long time since i did the same thing in my previous school. always fun. AND AOUGH I FEEL YOU i have. a Lot of teachers like that. but eh im pretty decent at studying on my own [if i find the energy.....] so its managable. with math teachers too actually which is very funny bc last year we had this one teacher [we called her The Brick] who just. did not explain Anything just start doing exercises on the board and then be disappointed when we didnt understand anything. so obviously we were very happy to hear that were gonna have a different one EXCEPT??? SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO COUNT???? LIKE GENUINELY SHE DOES SOMETHING ON THE BOARD THREE TIMES AND EACH TIME ITS SOLVED INCORRECTLY. IN A DIFFERENT WAY. ah well. but yes my english teacher is very epic. if nobody got me i know she got me can i get an amen. and exactly i agree with you!! as in. i like when theres a Big Number so i try to more or less build my chars but im not gonna wreck my sanity doing the same domain over and over again. the honkai meta however IS pretty hard so i try to keep up with that. but im much less excited for part 2 so when it drops im probs gonna focus on gearing the chars i already have instead of pulling the new ones since you can do anything with a good support and i have. pretty good supports [HERRSCHER OF TRUTH FOR THE WIN]. id generally recommend Not Completely Ignoring it yeah. tho i did and still managed to pull myself out, but it wasnt a pleasant experience [god. superstring dimension with ungeared teams. Augh.] so. yeah. AND RIGHT???? honkais meta may be painful but the gacha sure is not. I WILL GET INTO HIMEKOS STORY BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A SEC SO ILL JUST PUT IT UNDER A READMORE AND ALSO BEWARE OF VERY VERY VERY HEAVY SPOILERS. since im not exactly sure in what point of the story youre in. AND YEAH shes just. chillen. and the joke is [linguistic rant incoming] actually not That long [i just love hyperboles] although there is one joke that is Actually pretty hard to explain. anyway what i wanted to say is that she has ESSA which. first of all this is slang but its slightly outdated slang [which, of course, doesnt stop me from using it] and it just. well when you say someone has essa it means theyre like. chill in a cool way. cool in a chill way. but also essa itself can be used like. hm. for example if you manage to do sth, say, pass an exam, and you wanna say you did it and also it wasnt very hard?? you can just say NO I ESSA. its not quite translatable into english but needless to say i shall now begin using it. AND YEAH FR rare occurence where genshin made me actually care about male characters. as in. i love furina forever but neuvilette has actually proven to be someone i like as well.

[once again. tumblr forcing me to do a paragraph break] his autistic swag has captivated me. and yeah ajdfkgjsj as it turns out im both farsighted and have astigmatism so i should be limiting my computer usage...... its ok tho im trying to get into traditional art more and also studying is easier. so Its Joekay. ahhhhhh talents are such a pain to level up.... i just never have enough stuff for them seemingly. yeah my history classes have godawful times good lird. and we actually do less material bc of that since our teacher just refuses to do anything on the 6pm classes and just does twice the material in the monday block instead. i love my life. fair enough tbh, i picked up an ADDITIONAL 7am class bc its not mandatory and was close to disbanding but my classbestie really likes it so i joined to make it less likely to fall apart but ah. im regretting my decision. but at least the teacher is nice so. AND FOR REAL i do not understand where they get their energy from. or the dedication. ESPECIALLY for this godforsaken school. and ah thankies!!!! and good luck with catching up!!! i LOVE the manga sm omg...... im also very excited for the anime since the love scale arc is starting today and its my favorite........ big hype. and ah i started playing noita recently!!!! very fun i love games that are engineered to hurt me personally

ANYWAY. ONTO THE HIMEKO LORE

i Should mention that im not an expert on himeko lore BUT ill do my best hehehe. however i will reiterate that heavy spoilers ahead, especially for chapter 9.

SO himekos backstory is revealed in the alien space manga [which, admittedly, i read only because i found out shub niggurath appears by the end and i love niggurath] but it goes more or less like this. i wont go into detail about what Exactly happened because truth be told this is a pretty long manga and i simply do not have the motivation to do an Entire Summary but basically. when she was in university, her father, who was working for schicksal and also the host of an Actual Literal Alien kiiiiiind of went berserk [without her knowledge, of course] and welt had to Kill Him. which is pretty bad because they knew each other and were Kinda friends. anyway since her mother was already dead and she was infected with honkai at the time, this caused her to join schicksal! of course, the entire time kept in the dark about what exactly happened to her father. so when she was in schicksal, she was in the squad let by ragna lothbrok, who also ended up dying in action, and himeko ended up in saint freya. she also made bianka join schicksal! so anyway this is where we get to the main story. i wont go into chapter chiyou bc im gonna be honest i remember Nothing from chronicles. but she was kiana and the others from the main squad mentor, guiding them through their journey as valkyries. when kiana awoke as the herrscher of the void during the void arc, she was also Actively Dying from honkai poisoning [since valkyrie gear uses the honkai in it but she had pretty low natural resistance to it]. fu hua gives her an antidote that Could save her life but, during the final lesson, she uses it to temporarily seal the herrscher of the void so that kiana can live on. and dies in the process. i cry watching it to THIS DAY. but himeko remains as somewhat of an Afterlife Guide to the end of the series, appearing as flashbacks and visions in the chapter 11 ex cg, meteoric salvation, like an entire section of set tomorrow ablaze, everlasting flames, and graduation trip. to summarize, I LOVE HER AND WILL CRY ABOUT HER AGAIN. AOUGGGHH. she actually means so much to me you have no idea you have NO idea

[arundolyn]

i wanna hear the implications of trinity creating a body for terumi...please let us know what you have to say because i can't stop thinking about what it could all possibly be

I THINK IVE MADE A POST ABOUT THIS BUT ILL STILL DO IT CAUSE LIKE DUDE. GOD

im going to assume. a baseline understanding of like blazblue lore the nox nyctores the muchourin etc. i can go back if needed

but like the Thing is. there are so many factors at play but the MAJOR major ones are trinity either:

made a human body for terumi, which is kinda sorta just about the pinnacle of The General Concept Of Actual Alchemy, creating human life, minus i suppose the part where his soul was like already extant and tied to the mortal plane. we're ignoring that for the sake of simplicity. as such, this is pretty much just a huge flex of hey look what trinity can fucking do. Be Afraid.

OR she made another grimoire like hazama's body, if she based it on that, since its the same appearance wise minus his ugly ass raincoat and spiky ugly hair. which would be equally as impressive, since hazama's body, presumably, took like yknow thousands of human souls to make, being a(n azure) grimoire. nbd, right?

and bear in mind for both options, possibly the biggest part of this- nothing was given in exchange that we're aware of, which is an established Thing for the muchourin, as it was made for trinity, who is a very gifted alchemist, and it can canonically in the right hands (hers) make something out of genuinely nothing. i would say the same goes for anything the muchourin makes that we see but at the same time ingame at least it kinda just. transmogrifies itself rather than completely creating a new thing about half the time. i dont think the bubbles from dream sally and swallow moon quite count hfjdhkh so plat's abilities on her own are up for debate. which i just realized kinda, i guess, makes the muchourin like... a philosopher's stone equivalent, in terms of concept and like. folklore.

all of this to say, if trinity wasn't such an extremely nice and kindhearted person all the time, she could fuck everyone UP. au where trin got mind eater'd instead of nine when. maybe izanami and co wouldve won then.

edit i forgot a few important points: this is never addressed in any meaningful way At All. and there are some weird curveballs like terumi's whole plotline in cf i think is trying to find a new body/get back to his old one (susano'o) because his is dying/died and is like actually decaying or something idk it doesnt make complete sense but its wild. and also perhaps the point about trin making a whole ass human body isnt exactly as impressive in universe as it is outside, given how big ass laboratories seem to have little issue just making all the little blonde bitches they want (prime fields i know theyre not all blonde but still) and kokonoe just like casually... made celica's body, i suppose, to put her soul back into for kushinada's lynchpin purposes. to be fair though, that does take Something, and that something is seithr, though it's like NEVER specified what the fuck that entails really cause of course it isnt

[lorelylantana]

Unconventional Observation Chapter 2; Gamble

Chapter Rating: M Overall Rating: E

First-Next

The first step of any reputable scientific inquiry was to establish a control group. This proved a tad difficult, as there was only one Link. But such a small setback didn’t deter Zelda for long, as she resolved to begin with recording the everyday behaviors of her knight. After all, you can’t identify deviations without first knowing the standard.

It was largely uneventful, in all honesty. Her knight’s trademark stoicism meant that any visual mannerisms were hard to come by, harder still to record with the consistency required for scientific revelation. The flip side of this bland undertaking was its simplicity. His countenance was so stable, so predictable, that she didn’t need nearly as much time putting it to paper as she anticipated.That wasn’t to say there weren’t roadblocks. One such aggravation came from the realization that Link reacted to her differently. Granted, this should be obvious, as she was his charge. What she didn’t expect was a discrepancy in how he reacted to her gaze.

Zelda had spent a lot more time staring at her knight than she had in the past, and he had noticed. He couldn’t meet her stare all the time, having to focus on their surroundings as her guard. Yet there was an undeniable tension in him, he stood straighter, and she noticed a light pink on the tips of his ears. 

Zelda had a list of potential causes, though, narrowing them down should be simple enough. The first possibility was the obvious. Zelda thought that this was how he reacted to being looked at in general. It made sense, if his lack of spoken word was an indication of bashfulness. This conclusion was shattered with the discovery that he endured the brazen stares of smitten maids giggling as they passed with barely a blink. She knew they weren’t unnoticed, as the giggles started after he made eye contact with them, which sent her back to the drawing board.

Her second guess was Link’s reaction being a byproduct of her rank. He may be the Hero of Hyrule, but Zelda was still his princess, and he was still a soldier. Even the freshest recruit knew any special attention from a superior while on duty was negative. Certain instincts were tough to crack, even after his ascension to Champion.

 In the end, all she needed was a week to get feel confident that she could effectively identify any differences he might exhibit during trials, where she knew her questions would be answered.

Then it was time for a gamble. Confident in her baseline recordings, Zelda set out to craft her experiment. Detestable as he was, he was still a person, and experimenting on him without his knowledge or consent was unethical. Thus, she approached him on a trek to the Dueling Peaks. Her studies suggested that his favorite meal was a prime meat and rice bowl, so she had some packed for their journey. 

“I have a proposition, sir knight,” she said as they made camp. He didn’t answer, only stared. She felt a thrill flick at the bottom of her stomach at the look in his eye. A gambler’s high, perhaps. He gave no reply save for the tilt of his head, which she took as a sign to continue.

“I would like to ask for your assistance in a new line of scientific study,” she began, voice quivering slightly. He raised a brow but said nothing, so she continued,  “I’m sure you know of my father’s insistence that my research is fruitless, however I firmly believe that my current subject of study could add to my efforts to gain Hylia’s power. If I can map out how energy flows through the body the knowledge might help me find the sealing power,” she said

“It’s not a waste of time,” he insisted, quietly but with conviction. It took only those few words to fill Zelda with optimism.

“You’ll help me then?”

He nodded. She clapped her hands in triumph. 

“Excellent! Let’s get started right away,” she said, reaching for her notes and a measuring tape, “I have some experiments in mind, but for now I’d like to get some baseline measurements down so any changes will be apparent immediately.”

Link nodded, though he didn’t say anything, Zelda felt her cheeks flush a bit. She was no stranger to her knight’s gaze, but this interaction was foriegn to her. Unlike the obligated glance he threw her way as her guard, now Link was engaging in conversation. Undoubtedly one sided, but existent nonetheless. She continued, blush burning even brighter at her next request, “In order to have a comprehensive foundation to build off of, I’ll have to take a close examination of your physique, and how it reacts to certain stimuli.” 

Link tilted his head again, only instead of a silent question, Zelda swore she saw a smirk grow on his face. Zelda needed a breath before she continued, the fluttering in her stomach knocking her off her stroke.

“Before we begin, I would like to remind you that you may bow out at any time without fear of repercussions,” she said, “I wouldn’t want my knight to break.”

Now that was most certainly a smirk. He looked her in the eye again, a rarity quickly becoming common, challenge burning in his eye.

Well, Zelda was never one to back down, and certainly not from the likes of him.

He sat on the desk in her study a few days later, pliant beneath her gaze. She’d emptied one of the tables to use as a makeshift examination table and dragged it out so he could sit on it without hitting his head. He’d shed his tunic and she’d locked the door, having no desire to explain this to any passing maid.

She put a hand on Link’s chest, gently pushing him down until he lay still beneath her on the wood. Zelda sucked in a breath, drunk on the quiet power of his compliance. She ran her hands over his stomach, blushing when the muscles clenched under her fingertips. She felt her face heat, but then her eyes flicked to his face. His jaw was set, and he stared at the ceiling.

She withdrew her hand, cursing herself for already making him uncomfortable.

“Sir knight,” she said, he looked at her, “I meant what I said, you can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”

“That’s not-” his voice broke, unprepared to be used so forcefully after his time he spent silent. He paused, trying to word his thoughts. Zelda waited, half in shock to have heard his voice at all. He took a breath, “I don’t get touched very often. When I do, it’s because I broke something, and fixing it’s going to hurt.”

Zelda felt sick. She’d imagined time and time again what his first words to her might be, if they ever happened. She’d imagined his patience snapping, his ire finally been let loose as he spewed a toxic deluge of hate and contempt.

Somehow, this was worse. It shattered her because it was the antithesis of the concept of him Zelda had crafted. She had wasted so much time focusing on how high his pedestal was. She spared no thought to how much it hurt him when he fell down.

She brought out a set of paints and a thin brush and brought it over to him. He’d stated his intent to stay, and she didn’t want to betray his vulnerability by shying away now. She ran the brush along his bicep. To her relief, although one that was painful, he didn’t flinch.

“How does that feel?”

He nodded, “Fine.”

“Okay.” Zelda dipped her brush into the jar of paint. “I found this recipe in the library. Apparently it’s supposed to augment your combative capabilities.” She rattled off the ingredients, anxious now that the man in front of her was made of flesh and bone instead of myth and steel. 

She dipped the brush into her jar, tapping it out before dragging the brush down his arm. She had a chart of standard Hylian muscleclature that she used as a reference, tracing each major muscle with her paint. It started off strangely tranquil, as she worked, Zelda noticed him relax. His breathing slowed, and another glance at his face revealed him dozing off. Zelda’s heart fluttered, an unfamiliar, affectionate warmth growing in her stomach. 

Things changed when Zelda finished with his arms and shoulders and moved to his chest.  When she drew the brush under his collarbone and down towards his sternum he jumped. She looked at him, worried that he was uncomfortable, but his eyes were still closed and she continued. She began to circle each of his abs individually, going lower and lower.

Then she noticed that the bulge in his pants had shifted. Not that she’d spent much time looking. Link must have realized why she stopped, because he really did tense up, his abdomen crunching as he sat up.

“I’ll- uh- go down and do some drills,” he said, swinging down to stand on the floor. “I’ll let you know if the paint does anything.”

And then he was gone, leaving the door open behind him and Zelda standing flustered and confused.

[gobbogoo]

We're Looking For Dracula

Count Dracula has physical strength which, according to Van Helsing, is equivalent to 20 men.

Eric blinked, and read the first sentence of the field briefing again. Slowly he leaned forward to catch his commander's eye, seated as she was at the compartment's far end.

"Uhhh... chief?" He asked over the roar of the van's engine, "please tell me our best intel on the mark isn't 200 years old?"

"Is there a problem, Agent Anderson?" Commander Barnes glared at the rookie sandwiched between his kevlar-clad comrades. Eric gulped.

"It's just..." he blundered on, sensing a mistake had been made, "'strength equivalent to 20 men' is pretty vague, right? Are these 20 men physically fit? How old are they? If Van Helsing was using himself as a baseline, wouldn't that mean-"

"That's enough, Anderson." The commander's voice hit like a gavel, "That dossier isn't just our best intel, it's our only intel, so I expect you to have it memorized by the time we arrive."

Eric shrank in his combat gear as his squad-mates sniggered into their masks. Surely he couldn't be the only agent more then a little nervous about what they were attempting, could he? This wasn't just some common demon and/or vampire... this was THE demon and/or vampire!

Being undead, he is immune to conventional means of attack. The only definite way to kill him is by decapitating him followed by impalement through the heart with a wooden stake, although it is also suggested that shooting him with a sacred bullet would suffice.

"Chief?" Eric asked again, "if he's impervious to conventional attacks, how do we cut his head off? And what does Helsing mean by a 'sacred bullet?'"

"Just read the briefing, Anderson."

Eric remembered the collection of priests, rabbi, pastors, swami, and mullah he'd seen that morning in the armoury. A clear sign intelligence hadn't been any more certain on the specifications then he was.

The Count can defy gravity to a certain extent, being able to climb upside down vertical surfaces in a reptilian manner. He has powerful hypnotic and telepathic abilities, and is also able to command nocturnal animals such as wolves and rats.

Eric struggled to hold in his exasperation with every additional sentence. 'Powerful hypnotic and telepathic abilities' could mean so many things... but he could tell from Barnes' expression that another word would mean patrolling the ghoul pits for a week.

Dracula can also manipulate the weather, usually creating mists to hide his presence, but also storms such as in his voyage in the Demeter. He can shapeshift at will, his featured forms being that of a bat, a rat, a wolf, vapor, and fog.

"I'm sorry, he can do what?" Eric couldn't help himself, "even if these bullets work, how am I supposed to shoot fog, commander? And who's to say what else he can-"

"You think I don't know that, Anderson?" The commander's interruption was louder then he expected, her tone a little less controlled, "we're hunting a legend based off hearsay, with untested weapons and unclear threats. You really think I'm happy with those odds, rookie? But if this were an easy mark, they wouldn't have called in P.A.C.T." Barnes gestured to her agents, squeezed together on benches and jostled by the uneven road. "We're here because we do what nobody else can. Central Intelligence may be uncertain about this job, but I am not. I don't care if it's Dracula, Nosferatu, or Satan himself, we are this nation's prime defence against the paranormal and we are damn good at what we do."

A hurrah went up from the squad. There was nothing like a good speech to bolster moral.

"Also," Barnes added after the cheer had subsided, "we've got the mother of all dehumidifiers in the trunk."

[willcwthewisp]

next in line | marley & willow

LOCATION: willow’s workplace. PARTIES:  @detectivedreameater and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: marley has some questions for willow concerning a missing person from her work. CONTAINS: head trauma mentions.

Marley pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought back the wave of another headache. Her body felt like it was deflating, slowly, with each hour that passed. Her blackouts were getting worse as well, and maybe Erin had a point, maybe she should get Queenie to look at her head. Maybe the crash had done more damage than she thought. Still, she hesitated, because she felt as if something were different this time. Something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but for now, she would push it to the back of her mind. She was back at work, but only on interrogation terms. So, it was with three other officers, that she’d ended up at a call center where someone had been reported missing. Missing persons were so boring, it was the same ending every time. They were dead or no longer human. In rare occasions, under a fae promise or kept in a vampire’s basement for food. She rubbed her eyes as she went in to her first interview, with one Willow Finch. Her picture looked like she smiled too much, and Marley frowned as she walked in, unsurprised, but still disappointed, the woman matched the photo. She sat in the chair across from her. “Need any water?” she asked, motioning to the pitcher next to them. 

Getting questioned by the police was the absolute last place Willow wanted to be. Sure, they’d brought in literally everyone from the office, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were the one under a magnifying glass, even if that wasn’t true in the least. They couldn’t have possibly come to ask about the man at her gallery, right? The one who’s arm she’d broken? After all, he said he wouldn’t press charges! But no matter what she told herself, Willow’s foot was still tapping anxiously against the office floor as the detective stood across from her. Detective… “Um- sorry- what did you say your name was?” Had the woman even said her name? She always felt at least a little better when she knew someone’s name. As for the water… “Oh- no thank you! I mean...maybe? Or...maybe not! Sorry- I just don’t know what the protocol is here. Which one’s the one that means you’re guilty again? Drinking the water or not drinking it?”

“Neither,” Marley said unenthusiastically as she watched the woman practically bounce in her chair. She talked a million miles an hour and Marley was tired. She poured herself a glass of water and then the other, scooting the extra glass towards the woman. “Neither means you’re guilty, I’m literally just offering you a glass of water.” And it was the truth, actually. Offering a glass of water was supposed to simply establish a baseline for behaviour, but this woman was so squirrelly, Marley knew immediately that wasn’t going to happen. “Stryder,” she announced sitting back and looking her over. She had big, brown eyes and shiny, blonde hair. She looked so unassuming, sitting across from her, almost an opposite to Marley’s all black outfit and her black hair and dark eyes. “So, first things first. I need you to state your name, age, how long you’ve been working here, and you daily schedule, please.” Maybe this would go better. She doubted it, but she could still hope, right?

“Neither?” Willow echoed with brief confusion, her mind working too quickly and anxiously to realize exactly what Marley meant. “But you can’t do neither- you can only take it or not take it?” How was she supposed to look innocent if neither action was the answer? It dawned on her too late what the detective had actually been getting around to. “Oh- you mean...nevermind…” Willow looked away in her embarrassment, cheeks already heating as a flush came over her cheeks. “Sorry I’m just ah- a little nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about!” She didn’t even really know the man that had gone missing due to mostly keeping to herself in the office. There was a reason she’d chosen a job as a telemarketer, and that reason was the exact opposite of any attempts to make friends. “Stryder?” Willow’s head titled quizzically to the side, the name ringing a bell. “You’re the woman who-” The medium glanced around as if making sure they were truly alone before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “-the woman who knows Nora?” Her back straightened against the chair as she prepared to answer the question, as if she were readying for a spelling bee at school. “Right- uh, Willow Finch. I’m 32, and I’ve been working here for…” She did a quick tabulation, grimacing when she realized how long her gallery had been closed. “About six months. Daily schedule like...work schedule or the entire day?”

Yeah, this was going to be a long day. Marley sighed and rubbed her head before setting the file down on the table and leaning forward. Oh, shit, this was that one chick from online? The one Nora had harassed? She almost groaned out loud. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, tapping the papers, “guess I shoulda figured. Not too many Willows in a town like this.” It wasn’t an accurate commentary, really, just another dry joke. Marley’s specialty. She wrote down all the things Willow told her, watching the woman’s face closely. She wasn’t lying about any of it, not that she thought she would. But the straightened back and the momentary pauses between sentences helped establish a quick baseline, in case she did try to lie. “Like work schedule. I don’t need to know what you do with your free time, besides throw bear people around.”

Great. It wasn’t that Willow didn’t like Marley based on her first impressions online. It was just that the woman had seemed abrasive, somewhat aggressive, and a little dismissive. Okay...maybe she didn’t really like Detective Stryder. But the last thing she needed was for a police officer to know that. “Is there...not?” The medium blinked slowly, apparently not catching Marley’s dry humor in person in that same way it’d flown over her head on the forums. “Okay-” she began with a nod, this time looking as if she were getting ready for an oral examination in front of the class. “Well- I usually work five days a week. I’m full-time.” She’d needed to be to even begin to cover her bills. She’d bought her apartment in the prime of her gallery flourishing, and telemarketing wasn’t quite as profitable. “And uh- when I’m here I just...you know- call people and try and sell them things.” With the mention of bear people, Willow’s voice quieted. “I thought you said they’re called bugbears?”

Marley was just trying to drown the exhaustion out when something felt as if it were being lifted from her shoulders, and her body felt suddenly lighter. So light she almost thought she was standing up, but looked down at her hands and found herself in the same position as before. She blinked, looked around, then back at Willow. Though her head still hurt and her eyes still drooped, she no longer felt the extreme exhaustion she’d had since first waking up from her accident a few weeks ago. “Full time, got it,” she noted, picking up her pen slowly and writing that down, too. She’d completely missed Willow’s first question, but breezed right by it as if it had never been said. “When do you take your breaks? Same time every day?” she asked, glancing across the table to Willow and wondering if she was simply seeing things, or if that side of the room suddenly looked darked. “What? Oh, yeah, they are. It was just-- I just...joking.” 

A heaviness settled onto Willow as Marley spoke, suddenly feeling as if she were carrying more weight than she had been before. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake the sensation to no avail. Ugh, was this just another anxious symptom of being interrogated? Maybe she could just go straight to sleep after work, and shake the feeling of being drained by the sensation of being under a microscope. She didn’t feel the need to repeat the question Marley had skipped over concerning her name. The sooner she got out of her the better. “Usually I do. I like to keep a schedule and stuff.” It made it so she knew what to expect of the day. “Every now and then I’ll take it other times, though.” Why did her break schedule matter? Did they think she’d had something to do with the missing person on her breaks? Again she felt the feeling of nerves clawing up her throat, pressing her to ask her next question. “You don’t- you don’t think it was me, right? I mean honestly I would have confessed by now. I’m really bad at keeping secrets that make me feel guilty. You should ask my sister- I always ended up tattling on her, and Forest is a whole other story. Oh- Forest is my brother.” Gosh, that had been a lot of words, hadn’t it? Already it felt as if they were taking a toll on her. A lot of words meant a lot of energy.

“And what time are those breaks?” Marley asked, going down the routine list of questions. No, she didn’t think Willow had anything to do with it, of course she didn’t. The girl had accidentally confessed to hurting Nora like two seconds after finding out Marley was a cop, it was doubtful she could lie even to save her own life. Marley took in a breath and for the first time in ages, felt it reach all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re just routine questions,” she told her, tapping the notebook with the pen, like children do when they have too much energy. “The faster you answer them, the faster you get outta here. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, Willow. You’re a narc, you’d narc on yourself, proof being that you already did it once before.” She gave a smirk, shrugging as she sat back. “I really don’t need to know about your family dynamics right now. But if it turns out you did kidnap this dude, then you can tell me allll about them, sound like a deal?”

The time of the breaks? Willow didn’t understand why these were the questions being asked, and that only sent her a little further over the edge of trepidation. She didn’t know how to give a good answer without knowing what it was Marley was looking for. “Um- I usually take the half hour break first around 12:30 for lunch, and then the fifteen minute break around 3:30.” She liked her mornings longer, saving her break for later in the day when she was less fresh. Now the detective was smiling. Was that good or bad? “Okay...what are the other questions? Or is that all of them?” she asked hopefully, trying to remember if there was any more of the coffee she liked leftover in the breakroom. She wasn’t usually a big drinker of it, but the sudden drowsiness that had taken her over was inspiring her to think differently. A frown came over Willow’s lips, not entirely certain that she liked the way Marley said the words narc, and applied it to her. “What do you mean I did it once before?” Oh god, was Marley lying and she did think that Willow was the reason for the missing person? Had she accidentally somehow admitted to the crime? “I didn’t!” she insisted while her tone grew more worried. “I really didn’t I mean- I don’t even think I could fit a body in my car or anything!”

Marley noted the rest of Willow’s answers and compared them to the notes on when the man went missing, and just like she thought, none of it added up. The poor man had disappeared on the overnight shift, anyway, so interviewing the day shift seemed pointless. But the captain wanted to be thorough, and so they would be thorough. She etched a little note on the pad and closed it, looking up at Willow. “What? Oh, no-- that’s all the questions. You’re good to go.” Except Willow kept talking, rambling, worrying. If this had been ten minutes ago, Marley would have groaned out loud and walked away. But as it were, she was feeling better, so she stayed put. “You practically confessed to me about Nora, remember? You were all worried I was gonna arrest you or fine you or something.” Marley let out a loud chuckle. “Woah, hey, realx, it’s fine. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m kidding. You really, really need to learn how to read sarcasm.”

“Oh, really?” Willow managed to say once she’d finally processed that she was free to live another day, and the shackles of the man wouldn’t be clapping onto her wrists anytime soon. “Thank god,” she sighed while her shoulders sagged, still a little confused as to why the questions had left her feeling so heavy. Sure- she did poorly in situations where she thought she might be arrested, but her anxiety didn’t usually leave her this level of tired. “Oh right, Nora.” She hadn’t realized Marley had been talking about a time other than today, and it was true that Willow had been all too eager to ‘confess’ her crime of throwing Nora through a window despite the bugbear being the one to break in. Willow blinked while Marley made an attempt to calm her, somewhat surprised that the woman was trying to help in the first place. Maybe she was kinder in person than she was online. “I just...I kinda forget it exists when I’m worried,” Willow admitted sheepishly, generally fine with sarcasm if she wasn’t thinking about everything that could go wrong. “But um- I hope you find him. You know- the missing person.” She knew just as well as any other native White Crester that far more people tended to go missing than were found. It was practically a death sentence in a town such as this. Just the thought of it made her want to lie down.

[tessiete]

Yeah, yeah, yeah another prompt fill that came from DMs. And also was my fault. @treescape​ asked for prompts and I um, offered this, and immediately took it back, and didn’t even do a very good jobby on it so. *shrug*

Anyway! A vague continuation of The Punishment of Silence, post Order 66

THE HOPE OF ORPHANS, AND UNFATHERED FRUIT

He wakes to silence. There is nothing except the sound of his own breath being scraped from his lungs like wax under fingernails, the beating of his heart against his ribs, and the creak of his bones. There is nothing else. Even his cry of terror has died upon his lips, unfledged and unrealised in this void. He is all alone.

“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon.” 

He hardly recognises the voice, hardly hears the words as he reaches for the only source of warmth and light in space. Beside him, tucked securely between his chest and the wall, is a heavy bundle of coarse wool, and worn linen. Within it, the weakly struggling flesh of new life.

“Hush, Luke,” he whispers, and even his voice is absent.

But Luke...Luke is here. With him. Luke is golden. Luke is the sun, and he shines so brightly that for a moment, the absence of stars is obscured by the break of dawn, and he turns his face to meet it. Luke cries, his voice wet with the sorrow of Obi-Wan’s soul, and he weeps where Obi-Wan cannot.

“Master Kenobi?” The voice calls again. It is young, too, and threaded with uncertainty as it seeks a mooring in this black new world. “Master Kenobi, I need your help.”

He must answer it.

But he is wrung dry, having wasted it all in the desert of affection.

“They’re asking for a landing code,” the boy says. “They want to search the ship.”

“Let them,” he replies. “We’ve nothing for them to find.”

He adjusts the swaddling around the babe, pulling the folds up higher until the little face is barely visible, and drawing up his hood until his own face is shadowed and obscured.

The pilot fumbles for the comm, but hesitates before he makes the call.

“Master, we haven’t got the clearance,” he says. “I tried Republic codes but they’re all invalid, and I daren’t use a - a Jedi -”

“No.”

“Master, they’re waiting.”

Outside the viewport, Tatooine looms larger, and larger, round and golden, like the husk of a burnt out star. Just endless swathes of sand and stone. A barren rock. The twin suns watch, and Obi-Wan feels his hackles rise, as though he were prey under the baleful gaze of a predator in the night. 

“Tell them whatever you must,” he sighs. His shoulders slump, and his eyes close. He is weary.

He cannot see the way his pilot stares at him, hopeful, and waiting. He doesn’t want to. The weight of his need is punishment enough. Luke is light in his arms, and he rocks him gently.

“This is the pilot of  The Slip, Corellian class YT-1300 AUX requesting permission to land.”

“Airbase to  Slip , have you got those docking permits yet?”

A single, shimmering breath, and the pilot answers, “No. But we - I  can pay you.”

Obi-Wan does not object.

“What sort of payment we talking?”

“What do you care, so long as you get your money?”

“I don’t know,” replies the man. “You bargain like a pirate, but you sound like a kid. I ain’t convinced you got anything I want.”

He can feel his eyes upon him, but he cannot tear his own away from the babe. He is preoccupied with this one last precious thing. The pilot grits his teeth, and replies with all the arrogance of his past life. “Well, how about this - if you don’t like it, you can shoot me when I get there?”

There is silence on the other end, then the comm crackles back to life. The deck officer’s voice rasps with laughter. “Alright, kid,” he says. “You got a deal. Hope you ain’t got family to miss you. We’ll see you at Dock 3, on the south side.”

“Dock 3,” says pilot. “Copy that.”

“And kid? Don’t try anything stupid.”

 --

He takes the ship in with a steady hand, but as they get closer and closer Korkie feels his breath quicken in anticipation. They haven’t got anything to pay with. They have no credits, no valuables, nothing personal which might tie them back to the Core, or worse, to the Temple. He doesn’t worry so much for himself, having no particular training in the Force, nor any distinctly Jedi affectations. His borrowed robes he discarded on Polis Massa, but his father…

Obi-Wan is unmistakably a Jedi in his sand coloured tunics, and thick, wool cloak meant for all terrains but a blazing desert. However, there is one appurtenance which may work in their favour -

Everyone knows that Jedi have no children, and he will not relinquish Luke.

“Slip  to base: Docking clamps locked, and pressure restored to atmo baseline. Please advise.”

There is sweat beading upon his upper lip. Obi-Wan rocks Luke as he fusses, awakened by the sounds of noise outside. People are waiting for them.

“This is Squaddy Redsun. Lower your ramp, and prepare for immediate boarding.”

He looks to the Jedi, and gathers himself. There is nothing on the ship, and so there is nothing to pack or take as they leave, but still, he casts one last look at the cockpit. Then, he ushers his father forward, through the main hold, and to the head of the ramp. He presses the pair to the side, leaving them just out of plain sight, and so wrapped up in the folds of Obi-Wan’s cloak and each other as to be indistinguishable from shadow. He steps back. He strikes the button to lower the ramp with an open palm. Sunlight floods the hold, and he is left blinking and blind as a rough voice calls to him.

“You the captain, then, kid?”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. He can see a man clad in worn leathers, and decorated in the gleaming white bone of some fearsome beast. Beside him, two others with wrist guards, and pikes. He makes no attempt to resist as the guards approach, and does not fight as he is grabbed by the elbow and shoved down the ramp by the first.

But the second has discovered Obi-Wan, and grabs at him with the same barbarity. The Jedi flinches away, and curls around himself. One pale hand reaches back, and Korkie can feel the air turn electric. 

“No!” he cries, startling both the guard and Obi-Wan, the warning clear in the fraught timbre of his voice. “He has a child,” he says. “He’s harmless. But there’s a child. Please. I am the pilot. This is my ship.”

“And who is he then?” Redsun demands.

“No one,” says Korkie. “A refugee of - of Mandalore.”

“He don’t look like no hunter.”

Korkie shrugs, watching closely as Obi-Wan descends untouched, the guard at his elbow. “I don’t know that he has enough left to look like anything.”

“Ha,” chortles Redsun. His men laugh, too. “Then I suppose it’s you what has my payment. Docking codes don’t come cheap.”

“No, sir,” says Korkie. “I - I haven’t any credits.”

“That Republican dross is no good out here, any way,” Redsun spits. “Now, where’s my pay?”

The guards edge closer, and Luke chokes on a feeble cry.

“Hush, dear heart,” murmurs Obi-Wan. “Hush, sweet thing. And sleep.”

“The ship!” says Korkie. “You can take the ship. It’s in fine working order, and the hyperdrive is good for your smaller jumps. I -”

His neck snaps, his teeth snap together, and he can taste blood as a fist connects with his cheek. It leaves him staggering, and spitting into the sand. Luke begins to wail. The sound rings out around him, but he struggles to place its source. Nearby, he knows. They must still be beside him. He reaches out and catches the edge of heavy wool in his grip.

“None of that banthashit, boy!” shouts Redsun, and he is near as well. He can smell the man as he comes closer, still. “That ship ain’t worth half the trouble you’ve caused. What else you got?”

“Nothing,” he pleads, struggling upright again. The guard at his side restrains him. “Nothing. But take the ship, and I can - I can work for you. You can garnish my wages -”

“Garnish your wages? What kind of -” A blaster primes. He hears the pitch rise with the charge until it disappears. “Now, we had a deal,” says Redsun. “You pay me now, or I take it out of your hide. Right? You pay me, or I shoot you.”

“Yes, sir,” whispers Korkie.

The barrel presses against his forehead. 

“So you decide,” says Redsun. “Give me my money, or I kill you where you stand. You, and that screeching brat.”

Korkie tries to swallow, but all his tastes is the sour, metal tang of blood. It roils in his stomach. He feels faint. Luke screams, and screams but Obi-Wan only tries harder to sooth him, singing some sad lullaby. A Mandalorian lullaby. 

Korkie recognises it. His...his mother used to sing it to him. He clenches his hand into a fist, tracing his thumb over the ring he wears, as a reminder. And he remembers -

“My ring,” he says, slipping the jewelry from his hand. It is a simple band, but thick and completely unblemished by age or use. “I can give you this,” he insists, holding it so that the suns set it ablaze, glittering like fire in his hand. 

“And what’s that?”

“Pure beskar,” he says. 

Redsun lowers the blaster. Korkie can see his interest pique, and greed replace fury in his cold, black eyes.

“Beskar,” he says. “And how’d you be coming by that?”

He nods at one of the guards, who swaps his pike for a techscanner. The ring is plucked from Korkie’s fingers, and the green light of the machine washes over it.

“Like I said,” says Korkie. “Mandalorian refugees. 

The guard looks up. “It’s as he says, Squaddy. Beskar.”

Redsun regards him for a moment. He shifts his jaw, and rolls his tongue over his teeth. Korkie holds his gaze, even as blood drips from his chin. At last, Redsun gives the sign, and his man lets Korkie go. 

“I’ll be taking the ring,” he declares. “And your kriffing ship, for all the good I’ll make of it. And you get off with a warning.”

“Yes, sir,” says Korkie. “Thank you, sir.”

Korkie gathers Master Kenobi in his arms, and pushes him towards the exit. Through the wide, rusted blast doors, he can see where the dockyards end, and the streets beyond begin. Their escape is at hand, but Obi-Wan is slow to move, fearful of jostling Luke who has settled tentatively once more. The guards make no move to assist, but Korkie is determined. He keeps between Redsun and the Jedi, he keeps him moving forward, and they are hardly ten steps from freedom when blaster fire rings out across the docking bay.

There is a blaze of fire along his side, and Korkie falls in a heap of fine, yellow dust. Breathing hard, he presses a hand to the source of heat, and cries out as agony is awakened by his touch. His fingers come away bloody, but he sits up, then stands, then stumbles on towards the exit, leaning on Obi-Wan, urging him to go, to move, to keep pushing forward. Step by step. He can hear the guards and Redsun laughing behind them.

“Don’t you try playing games like that round these parts, son,” shouts the man. “Not everyone’s as kind as Squaddy Redsun.”

 --

The crowds are easy enough to get lost in, and soon Squaddy Redsun and the Mos Eisley docks are far behind them, but Korkie feels their ruin is closer than ever. His side aches, and bleeds sluggishly where the bolt hadn’t instantly cauterised the wound. He is hot. He is thirsty. But worst of all, he cannot speak or read a single word of Huttese. 

“Please,” he asks of a woman hustling by with an armful of black fruits. “Please, can you tell me where to find shelter? An inn?”

She cuts him a glare, and hurries on.

“Sir, if you could - I need to find a place to stay.” 

The man flicks his lekku, and shakes Korkie off.

He cannot tell if they’ve tried this street already, or not, all the architecture looks so similar to his unfamiliar eyes, and all the people are one massive murmuration of a society he is not part of. Then suddenly, a child stands before him. A little boy, with hair the colour of the sandstone walls of the city, and eyes like the sky reaches out a grubby hand.

“We need food,” says Korkie. “And a place to sleep. Please.”

The child nods, and Korkie takes his hand, fisting his other in the folds of Obi-Wan’s robe to be sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowds. They follow the child through innumerable streets, and darkened alleys before they are abandoned in front of a low building on the outskirts of town.

“Can we stay here?” Korkie asks. The child nods. The door slides open at his touch, and he is swallowed up in warm yellow light while Korkie hesitates on the threshold.

But it is getting dark, and he can think of no other alternatives. So he knocks.

“We’re all full up.” He hears the voice first, but it is soon matched by the scowling countenance of a woman worn old by the suns. The little boy clings to her skirts, now shy and retiring after his brazen rescue. She looks at Korkie and his charges from the doorway, and nearly turns away.

“Wait, wait, gedet'ye, jatne vod, vi linibar taap at nuhoy.” He’s slipping, and he only notices when her brow crinkles in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just - please, we need a place to stay. Just for the night.”

“We don’t have any more rooms,” she says.

“We have a baby.”

He clutches at Obi-Wan’s arm, until he steps forward, and the light falls across Luke’s sleeping face. The woman sighs.

“It’s five wuipui,” she says. 

“I haven’t any money,” he says.

“Then I haven’t any beds,” she replies. He catches the door before it can slide shut. 

“Please,” he says. “Please.”

And at that moment, Luke wakes and begins to weep. The woman stills, and Korkie thanks the stars for timing.

“One bed,” she says. “I won’t have a babe die on my doorstep. Bad business. Bad bly is what it is. But I can only afford to take the one of you with it.”

“Him,” says Korkie, shoving Obi-Wan forward. “He’s his father.”

“And where’s the mother?”

“Dead,” says Korkie. “It’s only - they only have each other.”

The woman nods, and reaches out to pull Obi-Wan into the shelter of her home. The wool slips from his fingers, leaving them clammy and sticky in the rapidly cooling night air. 

“Thank you,” he says, and they disappear behind the door.

At once, the strange euphoria of a desperate flight deserts him, and he collapses in the sand against the wall. His side aches, though the bleeding has mostly stopped. He supposes that is the result of dehydration as much as anything. His lips are cracked. His tongue feels thick. His own blood sits uneasily in his stomach. The streets empty, the second sun slips below the horizon as he watches, and soon he begins to shiver. It’s difficult to stay awake, but after so many hours of preternatural vigilance it feels impossible that he should sleep. There is always some danger, now. They will always be hunted. He blinks, and sees three moons. Perhaps he is concussed, but then Coruscant had four moons, and Mandalore had two, so that is no measure of his injury.

He’d travelled once to Concordia, when he was a child. It was a beautiful place, and it felt, at the time, as though he’d been transported to some ancient world. There were trees. And grassland. There was water you could swim in, and could drink, and it ran freely over rock, and silt in unpredictable patterns, like the veins on the back of his hand. Though he’d been born in Sundari, there was something about Concordia that felt viscerally his. He recognized himself in the wildness of it all, as though it were a sort of mirror, as though if one were to pull up all the grasses and the plants they might pull up all his roots as well. The moons of Tatooine are white. They shine like stars, but there is no warmth to them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see Concordia again.

Warm light illuminates the dark, turning the sand golden again.

“Alright, none of that. Can’t have Core soft boys dying on my stoop, either.”

“‘M not from the Core,” Korkie mumbles.

“That posh accent of your father’s could’ve fooled me,” she says. He feels her prop him up against the wall, and wonders when he’d laid down. She taps his face with her hand on the cheek that isn’t hurt. Water touches his lips, and he opens his eyes. “Drink up,” she says. “Heat’ll kill you faster than a blastoh will out here, lapti wermo.”

He drinks as quickly as she lets him, and until the vessel is empty. The clay cup is cool against his skin, and he presses his swollen eye against it, grateful for the relief.

“Now,” she says, taking it from his hand, and standing it upright in the sand. “Let’s see about that blaster wound.”

“It’s not bad,” he insists. She ignores him, and tugs his jacket down one shoulder, and slides his arm free. He hisses in pain, and she cuts him a look that says she has absolutely no confidence in his ability to self-diagnose. 

Blood stains his close-fitting sark, and she draws back. 

“I’m going to get some vibroshears,” she says. “I’ll need to cut this off.”

“No,” he protests. “Just lift it. I haven’t got anything else.”

“You haven’t got this , you stupa,” she grumbles. Korkie makes no reply, but leans forward and begins to tug at the hem of his shirt. In response, she leans forward to help him, and launches into a vehement stream of Huttese that makes no sense to Korkie. He comprehends the spirit of the words just the same. “Bolla rass tata, u beggybeggy brite lapti wermo.”

“On my world, we’d say ‘slanar nek gar shabuir’,” he says, grimacing as the shirt comes off. “Or something like.”

“Shabuir?” she says, letting the word bubble on her lips. “I like that one. I’ll keep it.”

“It’s yours.”

The fabric lifts away, heavy with dirt and grime. She is careful not to tear it further as she lays it flat to dry in the sand, and Korkie does appreciate that. Such a small measure of care, and yet already so coveted in this drought. 

“I’ve a poultice,” she offers, withdrawing from the darkness a little bowl of sludge. “It isn’t bacta, but it’s better than nowt.”

Her fingers are cold against his side, or the wound is hot, but either way, he finds her ministrations soothing, and it’s not long before he finds his eyes slipping closed again. He fights it, and thinks he wins, but when wakes to her carefully tucking the ends of his bandages, the moons are much higher than they were before.

“There now,” she says, brushing back his hair, and giving his cheek a kind caress. “Let’s get you inside. Give you some food. Put you to bed.”

“I thought you said you had none,” he mumbles.

She smiles, and throws his arm across her shoulders. “That was before I saw how pretty you were. Now, come on.”

He grins, though it hurts, and rises to his feet when she pulls him. He staggers to the door, his feet made clumsier with exhaustion more than injury this time, and doesn’t fight when she leads him to a room, and drops him on a bed, and urges him to rest his head upon a thin pillow of sand and dry grass. The light goes out, and the door slides shut behind her. In the dark, he cannot tell if his eyes are closed, or not. But he is not alone. There is a voice.

Someone is singing a lullaby nearby. A Mandalorian lullaby. It is an old call and response. He used to sing the answers with his mother when he was very young. He hasn’t heard it in years. But when the singer gets to the end of the verse, he joins in.

“A ner kar'ta cuyir gotal ciryc, bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum nayc or'atu...O meg, o meg, kelir ni vaabir?”

The voice answers back on a sigh, though the words are different than they ever were before.

“O, ner Kiorkicek,” it sings. “Ni kelir ratiin yaimpar bal cuyir saanyc be gar.”

A baby sniffles in the dark. There is another bed. And he recognises the voice.

“Buir Kenobi,” he says, his voice hardly more than a thought. “Cuyir gar pirusti? Cuyir gar morut'yc.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. “We are well. You have saved us. Now, sleep. We shall all begin again in the morning.”

There is a warm hand upon his brow, and the irresistible temptation of sleep, and Korkie drops off into dreams.

[artsy-hobbitses]

ok. i’m sure you’re getting a lot of asks right now. if you get the time/patience to answer this, i’m trying to educate myself on this whole IDW thing. for context, i’ve never read it all the way through, i’m currently only aware of the general plot line and specific events. and when i did read it, i was an ignorant teen that came from a place of privilege and saw hardly anything wrong with the (painfully obvious) fascist/problematic themes in the comics; other than of course, they were shitty things the characters had done in their past — now as an ameteur writer that doesn’t know what the fuck they are doing in terms of character flaws and backstory, im trying to learn what is ok to place into one’s content to create those dimensions and morally gray areas many of us love, and what is not. — my question, albeit stupid and deserving of many o’ eye roll, is this: where does the line stand? what could have been done differently in the comics to keep that dimension but not create something so poorly handled as Coptimus, the tangled mess that is the autobot faction, or otherwise? ~thank you for your time.

Oh man, uh, this is definitely quite a heavy ask! To be honest I’m roughly in the same boat as you ie. I haven’t read the this series all the way through and mainly know of the setting/worldbuilding and pre-war shenanigans. 

I feel like I might not be the right person to give you a concrete answer on this but I can try and explain what I think went wrong at least in the very early stages of trying to build the entire Autobot/Decepticon societal dynamic, at least from what I know. Like a very basic explanation, I’m gonna keep it under this cut cause I might get long winded. 

IDW 2005 introduced some key concepts I think? That sort of set everything in motion as to why the war started: Cold Construction, Functionism, Beast-mode transformers being seen as a pariah class and the idea of a disposable class.  None of it is good, all of it is clearly made out to be horribly oppressively on multiple levels.

So you’ve got two sides, you want to portray the good guys as good guys BUT you also want to give your bad guys more depth/make them more human or relatable which is a good thing! 

So how do you do that? All the oppressive stuff I stated above which plagued IDW’s Cybertronan society is like, I’d say the morality baseline. Your readers know This Is Bad. People are suffering. That’s how you’ve written it

You make your Big Bad a member of the underclass who undergoes multiple challenges due to his station in life, things about himself he cannot change---he’s beaten down, persecuted, he’s empathetic to every one else’s suffering, he’s angry and wants to do something about it. He’s proactive about it. 

LOGICALLY, because your future bad guy is all these things any sane person would be ROOTING for, you want your future good guy to actually be starting from somewhere of the same point; a good guy who also suffers, goes through major challenges and sees these injustices and wants to do something about it. 

Like Magneto and Charles Xavier are generally good examples---they’re both persecuted against in a way we can all emphasize with, they’re not blind to these issues, and they both want to make things better. The biggest divide between them is that they’re going around it in very different ways. 

In trying to keep both sides starting from the same morality baseline, imho IDW failed horribly;  The major Autobots are not shown, pre-war, to care about what’s going on. Ratchet and Nightbeat seem to be the closest it comes to barely questioning the system (excluding Prime who is implied only got it after reading Megatron’s writings, and even then is too trusting of a system the reader and many others in-story can see is not working). They’re not shown proactively taking steps to fix issues that are affecting everyone who isn’t above a certain class. Most of them   come from relatively middle to high stations in life ie. scientists and doctors, who we are told will always have more rights than manual workers, miners, etc, even in life and death situations. More so, the underclass (beast mode transformers, cold constructs, victims of Empurata, the working class in general) is woefully underrepresented in their ranks. They’re very, very clearly privileged and nearly all of them have some degree of power/social standing that the Bad Guys do not. This is, somehow, the group we’re suppose to identify with. 

Instead, it’s the Decepticons who are shown to have to fight to get basic rights. It’s Megatron starving himself when he has so little already to save Terminus whose rations have been cut because they can’t work anymore and are seen as worthless. It’s Laserbeak (or Buzzsaw? It wasn’t clear) telling Ravage to not anger a Senator by refusing to serve them their Energon, because “They’d remove your spark for that!!”. Their ranks are made up of people who would be killed for simply questioning their station in life or forcefully ‘rewired’ to conform with the status quo. Their ranks are made up of people we have been told are suffering the worst underneath all these injustices---Megatron and Starscream are Cold Constructs (as are Prowl and Blaster but we don’t see Blaster’s side of things and Prowl is accepting of what he is because he was made in a higher station in life---a cop), Shockwave is an Empurata and Shadowplay survivor, Ravage/Laserbeak/Buzzsaw are Beast Modes (Autobots Steeljaw and Ramhorn also are of course, but they don’t have major roles pre-war and we do not see how they’re affected by all this).  This is, pre-war, the group we’re told are suppose to be the Bad Guys. 

Orion Pax is portrayed as a cop, one we’re told is very dutiful but also one who rushes to fill jail cells and is clearly more preoccupied with order than anything else. He’s, as good as he likes to try to be, is a cog of the system and he doesn’t do anything proactive to really fix it earlier on outside of shouting in the Senate. If he had been proactive after reading Megatron’s writings ie.a cop fighting the system, tried to be more empathetic to the people in his district? If he had left the police force and tried to make changes by himself? Maybe readers would have accepted him better. All I keep asking is “Why the hell didn’t you do something sooner? Why did you, as a good man, let it get this far even when you knew it was wrong?”  Megatron is portrayed as a working man who suffered police brutality for speaking out in his writings and he keeps writing, keeps fostering a revolution to fight the oppressive system. Megatron is the fire, the lead figure here early on who has actual chartable growth, the one who wants to change things even if it it meant violence because that was how the system dealt with him---maybe readers don’t agree with how he goes around things, but who else was really challenging or doing anything to fix it?  Why would anyone want to root for Orion Pax over Megatron in this situation?

TLDR: The morality baseline in this entire backstory pre-war was “Fight against societal oppression” which should have been really easy to get behind. Both sides should have started from that baseline.  The Decepticons did. The Autobots did not. 

[merlinmeta]

I've just found this blog, so I'm sorry if you've already mentioned this, but I was curious to your thoughts to this thing that's been bothering me since I first watched the show. Why didn't any of the captured sorcerers use magic to break out/escape? Like Thomas Collins in 1×01 or Cerdan, that man Mordred was with in 1×08, or even pre-canon sorcerers. unless Uther was using magical shackles and prisons, I don't see any reason as to why there wouldn't have been more frequent breakouts.

Ah, yes, one of the great mysteries of the series: “How the hell did Uther wipe out magic if he understood so little about it?”

There have been a number of theories, including the one you brought up—that in his hypocrisy, he was willing to use magical items for his own purposes. I wouldn’t be surprised by this, but I don’t think we see much evidence of it happening during the series itself, especially when it comes to the dungeon setup.

The explanation that makes the most sense to me is that your average magic user just…isn’t that strong or knowledgable, especially post-Purge. It’s possible that a lot of the magic users imprisoned simply don’t know the “unlock/explode door spell” that Merlin uses, or enough strong defensive or combat spells to make it past the guards even if they managed to free themselves. Merlin himself not only has access to the “instinctive” magic that Gaius says is so special, but also that massive tome of spells that his mentor gave him and all of Gaius’s other books and research materials—not to mention the man himself, with his decades of pre-Purge experience and study.

If we’re looking for someone to compare Merlin to, most often we see Nimueh, Morgause, and Morgana, who are all extraordinary in their own rights as High Priestesses and Seers and all that. There are a handful of lower-level antagonists, like the characters you mentioned, Thomas’s mother Mary Collins, Gilli (3x11), and Edwin Muirden (1x06). I could probably do some digging for more examples, but these are the first ones that came to mind.

The key difference for these examples, I think, is that we see them rely heavily on magical items. Gilli inherited a ring from his father that boosted his magical ability, and Mary Collins used a necklace to teleport, then a doll/puppet to kill the singer. If they’d gotten captured and had their items confiscated, I think it’s possible that they would no longer have the means (either in terms of spell knowledge or magical strength) to escape, or to make it very far if they did. We never see Thomas or Cerdan in action (I think Cerdan uses telepathy with Mordred, but I don’t think he does much else? I could be wrong about that though), so we don’t know what their abilities might have been. 

Edwin seems both stronger and better educated, since he learned magic from his parents before they were executed and later trained as a physician, so he may have found access to more resources and better spells to learn. Maybe he could have escaped if he’d gotten locked up instead of an axe to the face. 

I think one of the show’s failings is that even though Merlin is supposed to be The Greatest Sorcerer of All Time, we see so few other magic users that he becomes our baseline for what “normal” magic use looks like. What are the capabilities of the average sorcerer? It’s hard to say. I think it would have done a lot for the show’s worldbuilding if we got to meet more magic users throughout the series who really are just people trying to live their lives, using magic for little things like home remedies and chores, weak charms that have been passed down in their families or were once shared between neighbors like recipes. It would be a lot easier to imagine the terror and helplessness of people like that in the face of Uther’s vast armies and heavily guarded dungeons.

(It could also drive home the idea that the Purge was an obliteration of culture and history that forcefully alienates the survivors from their own heritage, but that’s another discussion.)

Instead we get all these legendary heavy hitters, or antagonists with powerful items that skew our perception of their baseline abilities. 

I think that’s the biggest reason we all end up scratching our heads over how Uther could have possibly stood a chance against magic at its prime: all we see in canon are the best of the best. 

[trainthief]

hello james hope you’re staying safe and healthy!! i’m moving to colorado next year (got my dream job :’)) and i’m really excited to spend a lot of time outdoors!! i’ve skied and snowshoed a ton, but i’m hoping to expand my repertoire. what resources/tips do you recommend for a beginner hoping to safely enjoy the rocky mountains?

First of all, congraturitos on the dream job! Very happy to hear some good news is happening to someone. Second of all, I’m happy to help, let me make you a list of suggestions: 

It sounds like you’ve got a solid amount of outdoors knowledge already, but if you’re not from the American West I would very much prepare yourself for a completely different experience. Colorado is a bit more tame than many of the states that surround it, but the intermountain west is where most of the public lands are, as you can see above. What this means is that your access to trails isn’t just limited to groomed out-and-back walks to a single viewpoint located on a contained plot of government-maintained land, although we do have those out here. Additionally, though, there’s tens of thousands of acres of unmaintained actual wilderness that you are allowed access to.  You should be aware of the risks you assume any time you step into the backcountry, because these are the last truly wild places left in North America, and at any given point you can assume you’re an entire mountain or two removed from the closest person who could offer help. But if you ask me it’s so much more thrilling to go out into the unknown where you’re not likely to see a single sign of human activity, and the views out there are so much better. 

Building off of that, you should familiarize yourself with the dangers of the area. Colorado has elk, moose, deer, a few bison, and plenty other of the more charismatic megafauna everyone wants to spot. They don’t have grizzlies, lucky for you, except the few that occasionally wander over the borders. But they do have black bears, cougars, and a wolf population that’s starting to re-establish itself. Of the ungulates above, I wouldn’t be too deeply afraid of any of them except bison. A bull moose or elk during rutting season might get pissed off by your proximity and charge you if you’re not careful, but at worst it will give you a good beating that you’ll still be able to walk away from. Bison are unpredictable and much more dangerous, but as I understand it Colorado has very very few in the wild, and coming across one by accident is extremely unlikely. As for the predators, a quick overview is that for grizzlies you’ll want to hit them with bear spray before dropping and covering your head and neck, for black bears you’re going to want to stand your ground and make it clear you’ll give them a tough time if they try to mess with you. Cougars I hardly feel like it’s worth worrying about, because they’re so secretive it’s tough to figure out where they are, and if one is in your vicinity you’re very likely not to know. But if one is stalking you and you manage to catch it, make yourself big, speak calmly but firmly, don’t retreat, let it leave the area and then go the opposite direction. For wolves, do the same but do retreat, as they don’t tend to get aggressive with humans and are likely acting territorial if they do. Never turn your back on any prey animal. Research these ideas in more depth, because I’ve really only given the basics here. Keep an eye out for tracks and scat and any other signs that an animal might have been around recently. I don’t tell you any of this to scare you off, and in fact one of my favorite pastimes is going off trail in search of some of these guys. But there are real dangers out there, and it’s been my experience that people who move west for better access to nature will often refuse to believe that they really are heading out into completely unmaintained territory, with all the dangers that come with it, and they tend to pay for that lack of respect sooner or later. At the end of the day, going into the backcountry means you’re going to have some close calls of some sort or another, and there’s no amount of learning about a situation that will make you fully equipped to handle it in real life. Things never go exactly the way they’re supposed to, I know a guy who fought off a grizzly with a trekking pole somehow, and while I personally have never gotten lost enough that search and rescue had to come after me I’ve got plenty of friends who have. Stuff happens, but having a baseline of knowledge you can rely on when it does means that you’re much more likely to live long enough to head back out into the wilderness again.

In addition to wildlife concerns, you should also stay aware of the natural dangers of the area. Download an avalanche tracking app and stay smart about what places you choose to venture into. Learn how to respond to avalanches as well, and consider dropping money on an avalanche beacon. I don’t have one, because they’re expensive, but that means if I ever get caught in an avalanche I’m pretty much toast. 

Try to make some friends who want to be outdoors, and have them show you the ropes of the area. It’s not recommended you ever hike alone, because it’s much more dangerous for a variety of reasons, but I have to admit I do most of my outdoor activities - including hiking and even backpacking - solo. The solitude and silence is part of the overall experience for me, as it might be for you. If that’s the case, be extra knowledgable, bring a backpack with emergency items, make noise along the trail so you don’t startle any wildlife (I will usually sing or whistle, anything to let animals know theres something distinctly human in the area), and always tell someone where you’re going. I’ve got more tips for solo hiking somewhere on my blog, so I won’t go on about it any more. 

If you’re looking for other excuses to get outdoors, you’re very likely to find some bouldering fanatics in Colorado, so that will be an option. This time of year the deer, moose, and elk are all shedding their antlers, so antler shed hunting is also one of my favorite activities. Here in Utah you need a license to go during the prime season, but I don’t know the restrictions in Colorado. There’s also mushroom hunting a bit later into the year, which is fun, as well as the more basic stuff like fishing, backcountry skiing, resort skiing, ATVing and snowmobiling, etc etc etc. Any excuse to get outdoors is always a good one. 

If it happens that where you’re moving is Denver, I should warn you that - while the coffee culture there is awesome - it’s significantly further from nature than even most people who live there think. You’re likely to be an hour’s drive away from the mountains, which isn’t insurmountable, and it’s very possible I’m spoiled by the fact that I live right in the middle of a mountain range and have the wilderness in my backyard…. But even so, make sure you commit yourself to getting outside, because working up the effort to get out the front door can sometimes be a lot, even for me. You should definitely try to avoid turning into the Denver stereotype the rest of the intermountain west likes to make fun of, because so many people there like to buy the latest Cotopaxi jacket and wear it to a million dollar cabin in the mountains that they rent on AirBnB, where they will never actually end up going outside. 

More basic pieces of advice: buy crampons, hike early in the morning or late in the afternoon to see more animals, wash your glasses with soap before you head out to keep them from fogging, the best trail mix is the cheap bulk stuff and not the fancy REI stuff you get for $15 a pound, the best hot chocolate for backpacking is and always will be Swiss miss, download the alltrails app and check it frequently to see if there’s anything to worry about on your favorite trails, always carry a knife with you because a knife is 20 tools in one, buy bear spray

Have fun out there!

[cetacian]

The Fall and Rise of Orca: The Introduction of Prime Earth Orca Part 1: Nightwing Vol 4 Issues 11 and 12 “Blüdhaven, Part Two” and “Blüdhaven, Part Three”

While the New Earth version of Orca has remained dead, Rebirth gave another version of the character a second life starting in Nightwing Vol 4.

                                           Under Cut For Length

While living in Blüdhaven, Nightwing discovered a support group for former Gotham-based, minor supervillains called the Run-Offs. There was an understandable amount of animosity between Nightwing and the group due to their pasts, though Run-Offs member Shawn Tsang (the former Defacer) did ask for his help in finding out if member Gorilla Grimm had fallen off the wagon back into weapons dealing. The Run-Offs weren’t the only ones unhappy to see Nightwing, as Avery Martell, leader of small time gang the Whale’s Enders, wanted to make an example of him to any other superheroes who might come to the city. To do so, she intended to use the group’s secret weapon: Orca:

Orca’s new design was more whale-like in appearance, though also less blubbery with defined muscles. Her bust size was also noticeably smaller, making it much less distracting. At the same time, the larger musculature did make her seem more masculine, causing many who weren’t familiar with the character to mistakenly believe she was male. Another notable aspect is that this version of Orca has razor-sharp claws, which real orca do have claw-like bones inside their pectoral flippers:

A deadly conspiracy was soon revealed, as the Run-Offs were being framed for the murders of prominent community members involved in dirty dealings. This lead Nightwing and the group to try to get to the next potential victim before the killer/s did. Unfortunately, they happened to run right into Orca and the Whale’s Enders, with a fight soon breaking out:

The fact that Nightwing is familiar with Orca is interesting, as the New Earth version of him was never stated to have met her. It could just be that he’s aware of her from Batman’s files, but it’s never stated one way or the other. This version of Orca got to show off her strength by hurling a forklift at Nightwing, proving herself as a credible threat.

Avery left Orca to deal with Nightwing, though the Run-Offs stepped in to aid him in battle. It was revealed that Orca spent time with the Run-Offs before joining up with the Whale’s Enders, with Run-Offs member Mouse accusing Orca of being the one framing the group for murder, something Orca denied:

Orca soon went into a rage, fueled by her own self loathing, as Nightwing defended Mouse from her blows:

This element of self loathing presents a vulnerable side to Orca. While she is a former Gotham villain, she’s also in a different position than the rest of the Run-Offs, most of whom are normal humans at their baseline. Even Gorilla Grimm was born as he is as a member of the same sapient gorilla race as Flash villain Gorilla Grodd. Grace is a mutant hybrid who feels she can no longer fit in with normal society and still feels isolated even amongst other former villains. We’ll see this element develop further throughout her arc in Nightwing and in the miniseries Gotham City Monsters (which I’ll cover in a later post).

Eventually, Run-Offs member Giz had his pet squirrel Goob place his headphones in Orca’s earholes, while he cranked the volume on an air gun sound, incapacitating Orca and ending the battle as Giz explained its effect on her:

Orca then revealed that she was more interested in pleasing the Whale’s Enders than actually harming Nightwing and the Run-Offs, despite knowing the gang was only using her as muscle. In the middle of the fighting, Run-Offs member Thrill Devil had his motorcycle stolen and the group lost track the man they were supposed to be protecting. Orca then wisely surmised that she and the Whale’s Enders had unwittingly acted as a distraction for the serial killer/s to claim their next victim:

In the next issue, Nightwing and the Run-Offs found the dying man, mortally wounded by the killer on Thrill Devil’s motorcycle, who revealed that the next victim would be the city’s mayor. While Nightwing wanted to head off the killer/s, the Run-Offs fell into despair, thinking that no one would believe their innocence due to their criminal pasts, forcing him to try to save the mayor on his own. In the meantime, Orca and the Whale’s Enders slipped away. While leader Avery would make a brief appearance among the large group of villains hired by Tiger Shark and Roland Desmond/Blockbuster to kill Nightwing in Issue #24, her gang and Orca wouldn’t be seen again in the book until the five parter story “Raptor’s Revenge” starting in Issue #30 (which will be covered in the next post). 

Summery Thoughts: This was a decent introduction for a new version of Orca. Her basic origin remains intact, as does her semi-reluctant villainy. While she is shown to be a strong fighter, she also shows a vulnerable side with feeling like an outcast among outcasts, wanting to be accepted to the point of allowing herself be exploited with full knowledge of that fact. We’ll see all of this come to a head and her character growth in the Raptor’s Revenge storyline next post.