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carboniteprincess · 4 years

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Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot.

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not.

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list.

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly.

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more.

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger.

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted.

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant.

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett.

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered.

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well.

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed.

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades.

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable.

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure.

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface.

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one.

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok.

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?"

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student.

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words.

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly.

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you.

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought.

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster.

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—"

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose.

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance.

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh.

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle.

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him.

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head.

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet.

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!"

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery.

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett #boba fett x female reader #the mandalorian #star wars #fic #mine #this fic is lowkey my baby #and there def will be a chapter 2 I'm just stupid and can't work ao3 #anyway #enjoy💖#I know I know I'm bad at proof reading #I try

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scripttorture · 4 years

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Hello! I’m a long time follower of this blog and first of all, I wanna thank you for your amazing work! I’ve learned so much from your analysis and explanations! My question is: I have a character that is kidnapped along with two partners/friends that are beaten to death in front of her. She then endures torture such as being repeatedly drowned, tased and whipped, and she spends most of the time in a stress position (hands tied above her head from the ceiling). That lasts about 2/3 days (1/2)

When they threaten her with rape, she says the information she’d been withholding in an attempt to escape it. Is this realistic, or does it go against the fact that the most you torture, the less the victim is likely to cooperate? Also, they end up raping her still, and shortly after that she is rescued by her friends. What would be the extent of her psychology damage? I don’t want her to bounce right back into work like nothing’s happened - that would be disrespectful to actual victims (2/2)

I find gauging/explaining the extent of psychological ‘damage’ difficult because one of the things I try to avoid here is grading people’s pain. We have a tendency to default to almost ranking these things and I don’t think that’s helpful. It’s a perfectly legitimate question (and I don’t think you are trying to rank how much this character suffers) but it’s a… cultural quirk that makes answering a bit more difficult.

The truth is that with all of these things there’s a range of individual responses rather then one universal ‘right’ answer. So if you’re struggling remember that the target you’re trying to hit isn’t a pin, it’s a boulder.

As you practice writing different survivors you’ll get more confident handling symptoms and long term mental health problems.

I’ll circle back to that, let’s tackle the question of whether people ‘talk’ first. I think a lot of people get confused by this because there are a lot of factors at work and it’s difficult to picture the knock on effects of all of them at once.

Torture does not lead to accurate information. It fundamentally can’t. And it can’t because of mixture of factors including:

how our memory works

how our nervous system works

how torturers behave

the effect torture has on organisations more broadly

the erosion of public trust torture causes

The question of whether an individual victim ‘talks’ or not concerns the first two points. Which (putting it briefly) are: pain and trauma cause memory problems meaning that torture actively destroys the evidence it claims to seek and that we are stubborn creatures who become a lot less inclined to actively cooperate with people who hurt us.

However the issue is bigger then the victim here.

When an organisation uses torture they lose the public trust, people stop volunteering information. And volunteered information is the main source of accurate information for any organisation.

This means that the majority of people arrested by these organisations typically know nothing. They are then tortured and given a big incentive to lie.

This creates a cycle of increasing misinformation. I talk about this effect in more detail here.

On top of all this torturers… how to put this… They don’t give a fuck about genuine investigation.

They claim that they do. But their actions tell a different story.

Torturers don’t record what their victims say. They do not fact check what their victims say. There are multiple recorded incidents of torturers continuing to ‘interrogate’ prisoners who did not speak the same language and of torturers continuing to torture when victims were clearly physically incapable of responding.

There have also been cases where victims have reported trying to give up information only to have torturers completely ignore it and carry on.

And torturers are no better at telling the difference between lies and truth then anyone else. They often believe lies told by victims who know nothing. And they are equally likely to dismiss the truth.

The main point to understand here is: there’s a difference between a character giving up information and a torturer/organisation that tortures obtaining accurate information.

Personally? I think it is easier from a writing perspective to have the character lie, especially if this is your first time writing something like this.

Writing torture is hard. It will be a lot easier to avoid falling into the common torture apologia trope that ‘torture works’ if the character lies. Especially if you don’t think the narrative has the time and space to explore the knock on effects of torture on the villainous organisation.

So this isn’t so much an issue of realism as what you feel you can take on in this story.

A small number of people do try to tell torturers the truth or give up information. But the scale of misinformation that torture produces is so vast that any small truths get lost among the lies.

Conversely readers expect that if they see a character telling torturers something true, there are going to be narrative consequences. They expect this to mean the Bad Guys ‘know everything’ and will act on it.

Realistically… torture can’t produce that sort of coordinated, thought through response. Because for everything this character says there are twelve others in separate cells contradicting that information. Because her torturers may not actually want to hear the truth, because they’ve probably sunk a lot of time, effort and personal prestige into a lie they heard a month ago being ‘true’ instead.

But that’s not a leap most readers will make. It isn’t a context you can expect the average reader to understand. That isn’t me disparaging your readers it’s just… accurate information on torture is hard to find or access, so most people believe the apologia they see everyday. It’s another kind of trope and we’re all used to tropes playing out a particular way.

Question whether your story has the space to explain this context and whether it can be done in a way that’s narratively satisfying.

If the answer is ‘no’, or if you just feel like it’s a lot to tackle, then I think you’re a lot better off with the character lying to her torturers.

Looking over the torture scenario itself I think you do have a survivable scenario here.

I would say that it’s uncommon for victims to be put in stress positions for a few hours: generally the typical time frame is around 24-48 hours. Using a stress position in this scenario would still be painful but you don’t need to use it. You already have a lot going on with five separate tortures (six if this character is beaten as well.)

I don’t see anything wrong with keeping it in here if you feel it adds something to the story. But if you want to drop one of these abuses the stress position seems like the odd one out.

Circling back to the beginning and the psychological problems torture causes, I think a definition of ‘disability’* is helpful here. Disability is any impairment, mental or physical, that has a substantial, long term, negative effect on daily life.

That’s what we’re talking about with torture survivors.

Recovery is possible. Life for survivors can get better. Every common psychological condition torture causes can improve with time, treatment and life style adaptions.

But we are talking about disability. Improvement and a happy life doesn’t mean that someone goes back to the way they were before.

Let’s take a few examples from the list of common symptoms which you can find here.

An ‘easy’ example to think through would be something like chronic pain. I think most of us can imagine how being in pain every day would have a negative impact on your ability to do things.

It can make it harder to perform normal, daily tasks. People with pain in their knees might struggle climbing stairs and walking long distances for instance. People with pain in their arms or shoulders might struggle to get dressed, hang washing on a line and access things on shelves above chest height.

Chronic pain can also make it harder to interact positively with people and socialise. We’re rarely at are best when we’re in pain.

A harder example to think through might be the kinds of long term memory problems torture commonly causes. You can read more about them here.

One possible type of memory problem is a sort of general forgetfulness that a lot of survivors experience. It is not dementia, it isn’t a progressive loss of memory. But some survivors find it a lot harder to remember information and that can have a huge impact on a person’s daily life.

Typical examples are things like:

forgetting medical appointments, which can lead to people being denied treatment

being consistently late for work, which can lead to loss of employment

difficulty managing money

forgetting to pay bills, leading to essential services being cut

forgetting meetings with friends, leading to reduced social life and isolation

That’s not a complete list but hopefully it gives you an idea of some of the ways this particular symptom impacts daily life.

This thought process that I’ve outlined is what you’re aiming for when you’re trying to think through symptom severity. It imagining the knock on effects on daily life and ensuring they’re at a level where the character is disabled.

That will look different depending on the combination of symptoms you pick.

Survivors don’t typically experience every possible symptom. As I said there’s variety; survivors of the same traumatic event can come out with completely different sets of symptoms and we’re not always sure why.

Given that I think the best thing a writer can do is pick 3-5 symptoms from the list for their character and show those symptoms consistently over the course of the story.

Remember that symptoms can improve. A person’s mental health problems can get better; but this means ‘easier to deal with’ rather then ‘no longer there.’

It’s also worth keeping in mind that the same mental health problem can look different in different people. It’s common for people with depression to experience insomnia but it’s also common for people with depression to feel tired constantly, sleep excessively and find it impossible to get out of bed.

Decide on the symptoms you want to write then take a moment to think about how they should manifest in this particular character.

I find it helpful to consider what it will add to the story. If a symptom works well with a theme in the story or creates interesting narrative opportunities then it’s usually a good pick. When thinking through the severity of the symptom consider whether this particular disability would create interesting challenges for the character as the story progresses.

Recovery and learning to live with disability takes months or years. It’s not linear and there are some people who will require regular assistance.

Essentially because symptoms are so varied between survivors and because they can manifest is different ways I can’t give you a perfect road map to writing trauma. There isn’t one ‘correct’ way to do it because there isn’t one way it manifests in life.

But it isn’t necessarily as hard as it sounds. Writing this stuff well takes practice, trial and error. That shouldn’t stop you from trying.

If you can I’d recommend finding a beta reader or writing group. Having other people reading over your stuff and giving feedback can really help. It’s a good way to make sure your scenes are coming across as you intend them to.

I’d also recommend taking a look through ScriptTraumaSurvivor’s archived blog here.

I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*I’m quoting from UK anti discrimination law here mostly because I think it’s a clear, helpful way of picturing what we’re talking about.

#writing advice #tw torture #tw rape #tw kidnap #torture as interrogation #torture does not work #memory problems #torture and organisations #torture and compliance #writing victims #writing recovery #writing torturers #scarring torture #clean torture #disability #mental illness #time frames for torture

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themurphyzone · 4 years

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PatB/BatB AU: Imprisoned

Summary: Pinky tries to rescue his father from a spooky, mysterious castle, only to wind up the prisoner of a terrifying monster. Also the terrifying monster has no fucking idea what he's doing, but Pinky doesn't know that.

AN: Because I desperately want to write a BatB/PatB fic but I don’t want to tackle the entire movie cause this movie is more slow burn than most other Disney Princess stories. I decided to try the scene where Belle first meets the Beast just for curiosity’s sake.

AO3 Link

Pharfignewton’s hooves nervously stirred up dead leaves and twigs as she halted in front of an eerie black gate, its bars crisscrossing over each other as if to prevent anyone from entering…or leaving.

An unfamiliar sense of dread swept over Pinky. The enormous castle beyond the gate loomed, the highest towers piercing the thick, gray clouds above. Still, Pharfignewton’s instincts were never wrong. If she said Papa was somewhere in that large, gloomy castle, then he was going to be in that large, gloomy castle.

Pinky gently flicked the reins, but Pharfignewton didn’t move. A tremble ran down her back.

“It’s okay, Fig,” Pinky whispered. He stroked her mane, and Pharfignewton whinnied softly. “Just think of your favorite things. Like apples, carrots, grassy meadows…”

A gust of wind blew the gate open. It crashed against the unforgiving stone wall.

Pharfignewton leapt back, the sudden move nearly pitching Pinky to the ground, but he clung to several strands of her mane and quickly scrambled into his usual position at the base of her neck.

She trotted across the stone bridge, ears swiveling in every direction.

“P-poit. They oughta change the lock on that thing,” Pinky murmured as the gate slammed shut.

Pharfignewton stumbled against a crack in the stone pathway leading up to the castle’s front door. She couldn’t go any further. The stone would damage her hooves, and they’d need to be in tip-top shape for the ride home.

“Fig, you’ll have to wait here.” Pinky climbed up her mane and onto her long muzzle, petting the soft fur between her eyes. Her head rose indignantly, stamping a hoof against the stone. “You shouldn’t go onto the stone without horseshoes. It’ll ruin your lovely hooves. And don’t worry, Papa and I will be back before you can say sugarcube!”

They couldn’t afford horseshoes for Pharfignewton, which prevented Pinky from riding her as often as he would’ve liked. Pinky’s chest ached from the reminder. Pharfignewton deserved pretty shoes.

She let out a gentle puff of air as she lowered him to the ground, giving him an encouraging nudge.

Pinky slowly approached the heavy doors, a brass gargoyle with bulging eyes serving as a doorknob. But the knob was at human height, not mouse height, so even with a running start and flying leap, he couldn’t reach it.

Then he remembered his manners. Breaking into a haunted, abandoned castle was awfully rude. What if he disturbed some ghosts in whatever ghostly things they did?

“Hello?” Pinky called, pressing an ear to the door as he knocked. “Anyone home?”

Nobody answered, but the door creaked slightly, allowing Pinky enough room to squeeze inside. Pinky bundled Mama’s well-worn traveling cloak around himself, trying not to think of the scolding he might’ve received as a young mouse about breaking and entering into strange places.

But he wasn’t stealing anything. He was just going to find Papa and bring him home. If Mama were alive, she’d understand.

Somehow the castle interior was even colder and draftier than outside. Gargoyles lined the walls, crouching with their wings outstretched, and each one seemed to have their eyes trained on him. The inside was mostly stone, with a wine-red carpet leading from the doorway and splitting into two paths along an enormous staircase.

Torches and lanterns hung along the walls, but they were dim and barely provided light to see by.

Whoever built the castle must’ve had a great love for the Gothic style. Pinky could appreciate dedication to the theme, but he shied away from an eagle-like gargoyle all the same. There were eyes boring into him. He just knew it.

“Hello?” Pinky shouted.

“Hello!”

Pinky grinned. The echo made up for the dreary décor.

“Narf!”

This time, he cupped his hands to his mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled from the top of his lungs.

“FJORD!”

Feeling slightly bolder, Pinky played a quick game of eenie-meenie-miney-mo for the path he’d take, since there were so many of them and he couldn’t choose just one. There were so many rooms. It would take a while to go through them all, so he’d have to chance it.

On the last count of ‘mo’, Pinky’s finger pointed at the rightmost staircase, so he climbed the long flight, his bare feet sinking into the carpet. He hoped the ghosts would forgive him for tracking dirt inside.

Clink clink clink.

Funny. Feet didn’t usually make that kind of noise on carpet.

Probably just the creaking of old metal. This castle had definitely seen better days, judging from the cobwebs that spanned entire corners far above his head.

He reached the top of the staircase. More doors and rooms awaited him down the dark hallway.

Pinky knocked on the nearest door. He heard a splash of water and the sweep of a mop coming from within. A maid, maybe?

They could point him in the right direction!

“Hello? Are you a castle maid? I’m sorry for interrupting your work, but I’m looking for my Papa!” Pinky shouted, pressing an ear against the door. Someone whispered urgently, the exact words too muffled to make out, and the splashing and sweeping noises stopped. “His name is Jack, he’s a little shorter than me, and…oh, he has a big bushy mustache too! He tends to get vegetable bits stuck in it when he eats. Have you seen him?”

No reply.

Pinky’s tail twitched nervously. Maybe the maids really didn’t like having their work interrupted.

“I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll let you get back to work,” Pinky said. He backed away from the door, the hood of his cloak falling into his eyes.

Clink clink clink.

That noise again. Pinky lifted the hood away from his eyes, and he came face-to-face with a teacup, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any teacups yet. Mostly gargoyles and spooky stuff, really.

The teacup was about his height, with a polished white surface and golden trim around its rim and base. Its handle was a shining red, and its pink base looked almost skirt-like, with a single yellow flower painted on the front.

“Aww, what a cute teacup!” Pinky exclaimed. He’d never seen any teacup like this before. Not even Snowball had something this ornate and pretty. “Wonder who painted you? Whoever it was, they’ve really got a great eye for color!”

He could’ve sworn the teacup’s handle lifted out of pride, but maybe the dim lighting was just playing tricks on him.

“Well, I don’t know how you got here, but I can’t just leave you alone either. What if somebody stepped on you?” Pinky lifted the teacup by the handle and carried it further down the hall. The teacup’s base seemed to twitch every few seconds.

He didn’t know where the kitchen was, but surely there had to be a cabinet or cupboard somewhere around here. He turned left when the path split again, and counted his lucky stars once he spotted a small table up ahead. The higher surface was several feet above his head, but the lower platform was at his shoulder level.

Odd. There was a candelabra and a mantle clock here too. Strange place to store one’s knickknacks, but then again, Pinky kept his rock collection in a tea kettle, so he couldn’t be too judgy.

Pinky set the teacup on the lower platform, sliding it over until it touched the candelabra and clock. The two objects were oddly painted, with black and white markings running throughout their brass bodies. The candelabra’s lower half was painted brown, and the clock’s topmost carvings looked almost like a cap.

Though none of them were similar objects, Pinky thought they fit together quite well.

Curiously, Pinky ran his finger over the decorative carvings on the legs. “Egad, this must be real mahogany!” he said. His fingertips were covered in a thick layer of dust when he pulled away, and he shook it off, sneezing at the small cloud that formed. “Whew, really dusty though.”

“Gesundheit!” a Scouse-accented voice said.

“Narf! Thanks a bunch!” Pinky wiped the remaining dust against the inside lining of his apron. It was going in the wash later, so it didn’t bother him too much.

Only as he climbed another flight of stairs did he realize he hadn’t seen any living being yet. Maybe the castle was just full of polite ghosts.

The carpet beneath his feet was ragged with little holes revealing cold stone underneath, the ceiling arching far above him. The pillars had rough seals over their creeping, winding cracks. There were no gargoyles, no furniture, no rooms at all.

Nothing but dust, cracks, and cobwebs.

It seemed that not even the ghosts used this area much.

“Papa?” Pinky shouted. His echoes answered back, yet there was no sign of Papa.

Wind battered the stone walls, and Pinky’s heart leapt from his chest. He wrapped his cloak around himself, willing his heart to stay where it belonged. For goodness sake, he’d grown up in Paris. If streets full of reeking garbage didn’t scare him, then this shouldn’t either.

Pinky reached a dead end, the path blocked by a barren mass of stone. With a sigh, he turned around. There wasn’t anything here. Maybe he should try the second floor again? There were a lot of rooms he hadn’t checked.

A light flickered around the corner, a bright circle of hope illuminating the unfeeling stone. Pinky hadn’t gone in that direction yet. He hadn’t planned to, but the light skipped and waved, beckoning him closer. And if there was light, that meant somebody was in the castle after all!

“Narf! Excuse me!” Pinky cried, rushing over to the ray of light. “I don’t mean to interrupt your work, but if you could please tell me-“

The light vanished. Pinky pressed his hand to the wall. It was dark and scary in here. That light had been the first sign of life he’d seen in this castle.

A shrill creak startled a ‘troz’ out of him. But it meant someone was moving around, so he followed it until he came to a doorway in the middle of the corridor.

The door was open, so Pinky peered inside.

A winding, narrow staircase led upwards. There was no carpet, only coarse and rough stone. Then the light returned, a shining beacon in the dark.

“There you are,” Pinky whispered, hauling himself onto the first step. These stairs weren’t as smooth as the rest of the castle’s, but years of routine chores had given him enough upper body strength to manage just fine.

Cold seeped into his fur. His teeth chattered, but he pushed forward. Papa needed him.

A candelabra rested on a nearby platform, its three candles burning brightly. It had the same brown base and markings as the candelabra he’d seen downstairs. Funny. He never knew candelabras came in matching sets. But once again, he was alone.

Not even a ghost in sight.

“I could’ve sworn I heard someone…” Pinky sighed. The room in front of him only contained a dimly lit torch and a row of heavy, barred doors. Fire provided the only colors, and it wasn’t enough to chase the cold, damp shadows away. Neither was the thin, colorless light that peeked from the cracks of the foundation above. “Is anyone here?”

A hacking cough came from behind the door nearest to the torch.

“Pinky?” a weak voice murmured.

Pinky’s ears perked as he rushed over to the door. There was a barred window close to the ground, Papa’s face peeking out from between the thick steel pieces. His fur was dirty and wet, eyes wide open with fright. He stared straight through Pinky, gripping the hood of Pinky’s cloak with desperate, clammy hands.

Papa was in a cell.

Pinky bit his lip. How? Papa wasn’t a criminal. Sure, his machines blew up a lot, but that was hardly cause for jail!

“Papa! Are you okay? Did you see any ghosts?” Pinky gently took Papa’s hands in his own, quickly rubbing the pale pink skin to bring some warmth back. “Poit. I guess they weren’t as polite as I thought…”

Papa stammered as Pinky drew him close. The bars were wide enough that Papa could slip through them easily, but as much as Pinky tugged on his arm, Papa refused to budge, heels digging into the cracks underfoot. “He’s…he’s no g-g-ghost, Pinky. Y-you have to go. Save yourself.”

“He? You mean whoever put you in here?” Pinky repeated. Papa’s bushy mustache quivered, the tiny hairs unkempt and matted. He couldn’t speak, his hands freezing in Pinky’s own. They had to get out of here. The sooner Papa warmed up in front of the cottage’s fireplace, the better.

“Food pellets. There are no food pellets here…” Papa murmured. “Your mother made the best food pellets in the world.”

Pinky’s heart clenched at the reminder. “I know. She made the best. We should go now. Please, Papa?”

Later, when they got back to the cottage, he was going to ask exactly why Papa wasn’t at the fair. Why Pharfignewton was unhitched from the wagon and terrified out of her mind. How he’d gotten locked up in the first place.

Papa’s shivers were fiercer than before.

“It’s safe and warm at home. Let’s go…” Pinky whimpered, but Papa’s arms remained glued to the cold, unfeeling bars.

Papa’s mouth opened…

“Run, Pinky!”

A thundering roar shook the entire prison. The floor, walls, and ceiling trembled with a frightened rattle. Pinky clamped his hands against his ears, and Papa tried to do the same, though he was shaking too violently to do it right.

The only light came from above now.

A massive clawed hand clamped painfully around Pinky’s shoulder and yanked him around, the prison briefly becoming nothing more than a dark blur with a swirl of purple.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Pinky blinked the stars out of his vision, pressing his back against Papa, wordlessly urging him to dart to the back corner of the cell for his safety. But Papa tightly gripped Pinky’s shoulders, and Pinky winced as Papa’s fingers dug into a sore spot.

An enormous shadow loomed above them, its shape melting into the darkness. The only features Pinky could see were a pair of sharp, white fangs and the trailing end of a purple cape.

Pinky’s ears flattened, his heart pounding out of his chest. “Who are you?” he called out, trying to keep his voice steady. He had to be brave for Papa.

“The master of this castle.”

Every word was accompanied by a low, animalistic snarl. Pinky caught the gleam of long, twisted horns atop the shadow’s head.

“Please, let Papa out,” Pinky begged. Another growl cut him off, and Pinky’s throat tightened in panic, but he continued to plead his case. His words were useless. He was use-no, not now. He couldn’t afford self-doubt. “It’s cold here. Can’t you see he’s sick?”

“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED ON MY PROPERTY!”

More cruel white fangs were exposed.

“But he could die!” Pinky pleaded. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.”

The shadow moved again, always skirting the edge of the light.

“There must be something…” Pinky murmured. But he had no money or valuables to offer, and trading Pharfignewton when she was a valued member of the family was out of the question. He looked down at his hands…and he had his answer. “Wait!”

Pinky reached for the shadow’s cape, but a bloodshot glare made him stop and think better of it.

Pinky closed his eyes. And he sealed his fate.

“Take me instead.”

The shadow turned away with a scoff.

“YOU!”

Pinky tried not to flinch. He didn’t have much value. He could keep house, but that was hardly a unique skill in the village. But he had no other material besides his clothes and fur.

“You would…take his place?” The harsh tone and growl vanished. The shadow’s deep, guttural voice sounded more confused than furious, as if he hadn’t expected such a trade.

And why should he?

Even so, Pinky had to push forward. There was no turning back now. “If I did,” Pinky said, just wanting to make sure before he agreed to anything. “Would you let him go?”

“Pinky, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Papa hissed.

I’m saving you. That’s what I’m doing.

Complete silence. Pinky bit his lip. Finally, the shadow spoke. “Yes,” the shadow drawled the word softly. “But…you must promise to remain here for the rest of your life.”

Pinky gripped the folds of his dress.

Rest of my life?

Would he ever see Papa again? Pharfignewton? The little cottage in the countryside?

Trade everything to be trapped with this shadow?

A shadow had to belong to somebody…

“I’d like to know who I’m speaking with,” Pinky said. “Would you come into the light, please?”

For a moment, there was nothing but an anxious growl. Then a pink, hairless foot slid into the colorless light.

A human?

Couldn’t be. The feet were tipped with sharp claws, and the heels lifted off the ground. Nor did they look like they belonged to any sort of rodent Pinky had ever met.

A pair of ragged black trousers. A long, crooked tail with many sharp bends. Grayish-brown fur over a large chest and pudgy stomach halfway covered by the purple cape. Arms that were far too thick, long, and coarse for even the largest rat.

The shadow slowly raised his head, curved black horns adding to his already intimidating height. Large, rounded ears. A broad, wide face with sagging cheeks and thick, furrowed brows.

But what struck Pinky the most was the creature’s unreadable expression. Though he was obviously angry, it was impossible to tell if those narrowed pink eyes were glaring at him with disgust or hatred. Despite the light, the eyes were partially hidden by dark patches of fur. He was silent, but a pair of fangs were still exposed.

Placing the species was impossible. He seemed to be many animals at once.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered.

The monster’s brows lifted in surprise, and if Papa weren’t locked away right now, it might’ve been comical.

Pinky turned away, unable to brave through the staredown, but he felt the monster’s gaze boring into his back.

“I won’t let you do this!” Papa cried out.

But he had to. For Papa’s freedom.

Pinky lifted his head. He stood up, gently sliding Papa’s hand off his shoulder. He let the touch linger for as long as possible and gave his Papa one last smile before turning around.

The monster was hunched over, one clawed hand resting on the ground. It wasn’t a bow of courtesy, but he seemed to have trouble with his balance. He growled in warning, as if challenging Pinky to say something about his position.

Pinky approached slowly, each step echoing in his ear. The monster didn’t move. When their faces were just inches apart, Pinky closed his eyes.

“I promise,” Pinky said. He stuck out his hand to shake on it, because that’s what people did when they wanted to set their deals in stone.

“DONE!”

The monster snarled and shoved past Pinky. Unable to keep standing much longer, Pinky dropped to his knees and wept, unable to hold back his tears anymore.

He wouldn’t see the light of day again. Trapped forever with a monster in this lonely, dark place.

There was a squeak and the sound of frantic scampering behind him, and Pinky opened his eyes to see Papa’s desperate face, pleading with him to reconsider. “Pinky, listen to me! I’m old, but you have so much to-“ Papa’s words cut off as the monster dragged him off Pinky, lumbering towards the stairs on all fours with a hand clenched around Papa’s cloak.

“Wait!” Pinky shouted.

But the monster didn’t care. He and Papa disappeared down the stairs, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

He never got to say goodbye.

o-o-o-o-o

Papa was thrown into a carriage that moved on spindly, wooden legs and carried across the stone bridge. The carriage disappeared into the forest, Papa’s cries fading away.

Pinky clung to the barred window that was several feet off the ground and several stories high. It didn’t allow him a wide view, and he wasn’t sure where Pharfignewton was. Still looking for grass to eat, he hoped.

He slid to the floor of the cell, huddling underneath the window in a tight ball. His tail was always a source of comfort for him, and he twisted and wrung it in his hands. The sun started to go down, and he imagined how beautiful it would’ve looked from the sweeping grassy hills just outside the cottage.

Beautiful rolling clouds. His cozy bed in the upstairs loft. The sound of Papa tinkering on a machine as a vegetable broth brewed over the stove.

The door slammed against the wall, and the crash startled Pinky out of his fantasies.

It was the monster.

Something inside Pinky snapped. Now he was angry, and angry was a feeling he didn’t like, but this…this cruel excuse of a…whatever he was stole his freedom and his Papa.

“You didn’t let me say goodbye!” Pinky screamed. “Now I’ll never see him…I-I’ll never see him again.”

He expected the monster to roar in defiance or deny the truth, but he did neither. He only leaned heavily against the doorframe in complete silence. His ears dropped, and something akin to remorse flashed across his face.

But that new emotion quickly disappeared. “Come,” the monster said, dropping to all fours. “I’ll show you to your room.”

New room? It was such a sudden offer that Pinky forgot his anger completely. So he wouldn’t have to live among old chains and damp stone?

“I thought-“

The monster arched an eyebrow, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Unless you’d prefer these accommodations?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Then follow.”

His captor crossed the room without pausing, and Pinky realized he’d never asked for a name. If he was going to live here for the rest of his life, he wanted to at least have a name.

“Hold on,” Pinky said. “I never got your name.”

The monster’s hand hit the floor with a resounding thud. “Call me the Beast,” he growled. Pinky stepped back in surprise, but the mon—the Beast didn’t turn around. “And don’t ever ask again.”

There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone, as if he hated his requested name. But that didn’t make sense. Why call himself a name he hated?

“Poit. Well, my name’s Pinky so-“

The Beast was halfway down the stairs already. Pinky folded his arms. Well, that was very rude. His captor didn’t have manners at all!

Pinky hurried after him. The Beast didn’t turn around. He was a very poor conversationalist.

Another candelabra stood just outside the door to the spooky hallway. It hadn’t been there earlier. “You really shouldn’t put your nice decorations on floors. What if someone stepped on them?” Pinky said.

“So we’ve got an interior designer for a long-term guest?” the candelabra asked. “Now we can finally replace the doom and gloom with something different! Maybe an indoor jungle with monkeys!”

The candelabra could talk! That was pretty cool!

His waxy face was eye level with Pinky. His grin was a little lopsided, his candleholders folding against his gold and brown body with an easy, light confidence.

“Yakko, this castle can’t possibly tolerate more monkeys, nor does it require the aesthetic of a jungle to be one,” the Beast huffed. He still sounded irritated, but less so. “And while we’re on that topic, Wakko and Dot need a reminder to not engage with outsiders. Where are they?”

“A real spoilsport, isn’t he?” Yakko whispered to Pinky.

Pinky giggled, and Yakko’s grin became wider. Alright, so not everybody in this big scary castle was a mean ol’ grump. It was good to know.

“Oh, they’re just telling Scratchy the news,” Yakko shrugged. “He’s a real couch potato these days. Anyway, maybe you oughta tie a string around your finger, cause you’re clearly forgetting something.”

He waved a flame like one would wave a finger to scold.

“But I patched the leaking roof,” the Beast said. “My work was thorough.”

Yakko coughed and pointed a flame at Pinky.

The Beast only stared. Then his pink eyes widened as whatever he’d forgotten finally dawned on him.

“Mouse.”

“Where?” Pinky whirled around.

Oh, right. He was a mouse. Silly him.

The Beast growled, like he didn’t know what to think of Pinky. Well, neither did Pinky know what to think of him. So there.

“You owe Yakko for your new room. Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

With that, the Beast stalked off.

“So…thanks for the room, I think. Poit. Is he always like this?” Pinky asked. He kicked at a speck of dust.

Yakko gave Pinky an encouraging nudge with his candlestick holders. “The Master of the Castle he may be, the Master of First Impressions he is not. If his rawwwwr-fear-me shtick gets to be too much, say the word and I’ll set his cape on fire for ya.”

“Is that a good idea?” Pinky asked. Despite his worries, he couldn’t help but laugh at Yakko’s attempt at roaring.

Yakko nodded, or as much as one could nod when one’s head was a wax candle. “It’s amazing what you can get away with in this place.”

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky was led down to the second floor, into a corridor with the most frightening gargoyles he’d ever seen. But he had to be a good guest, right? Good guests knew the names of every gargoyle, as Yakko was trying to teach him.

He tried so hard to pay attention, but he wouldn’t be able to remember which one was Hugo or Goliath or Laverne or Brooklyn. Yakko didn’t seem like the type to hold it against him though. He talked a lot and knew a lot of things Pinky didn’t know, explaining things like he was used to explaining things.

He seemed awfully young though.

Ahead of them, the Beast lumbered with a heavy gait. His strides were long and lacked the lightness of a rodent’s steps. Though he’d locked Papa up, he seemed more awkward than scary now.

Papa.

Was he home now? Would he be alright? There were chickens to feed and cows to milk. He hoped Papa wouldn’t put his noisy milking machine on Moo-Moo. She didn’t like that.

A tear ran down his cheek, then another. Pinky clutched his tail, staring down at the floor to avoid all the glaring stone eyes on him.

Yakko’s hopping sped up, the brass sounds muffled by the carpet.

There was the smell of slightly singed fur, followed by an irritated grunt. Pinky realized the Beast was watching him from the corner of his eye. A tiny cloud of smoke trailed from his right elbow.

“You can…make yourself at home,” the Beast said, brushing off the tiny fire. “As your new residence, you have free reign of the castle and the surrounding property. You may go anywhere but the West Wing.”

The West Wing?

“What’s in the-“

“IT’S FORBIDDEN!” the Beast bellowed, his massive hand slamming into the carpet and leaving long clawmarks behind. Pinky flinched.

The Beast kept walking. Yakko filled in the silence with chatter.

To Pinky’s relief, his room wasn’t far.

The Beast opened the enormous door, which led to a bedroom that was twice as large as the cottage.

The cottage was home. Not here. Yakko meant well, but this would never truly be Pinky’s room.

“My servants will attend to your needs,” the Beast said. There was nothing harsh about his words this time, but servants? Pinky didn’t know if he could get used to that. Nor had he seen any servants around. Was Yakko a servant? He never asked for his job title.

“Don’t worry! The toilet’s not alive. None of them are,” Yakko added.

It was probably meant to be helpful, so Pinky did his best to smile at him, but he could only manage a weak nod.

Then Pinky noticed the giant bed, with thick comforters and a dozen pillows and velvet curtains around the edges. Though fancy and straight out of a fairy tale, it wasn’t his tiny bed tucked in a cozy corner. Meekly, he stepped inside.

“Psst! Invite him to dinner, Romeo!” Yakko hissed.

“I order you to…join me for dinner,” the Beast demanded. “THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!”

The door slammed, and Pinky was once again left in darkness.

This wasn’t home. It was dark and cold. Homes were cozy and happy and loving. No walls, no prisons, no locks and keys to be thrown away.

Home was elsewhere. His heart was elsewhere.

Pinky curled up on an unfamiliar pillow. His heart was broken, his chest ached, and there was a deep longing within him. For Mama’s laughter. For Papa’s joy. For the hills and the meadows and the open blue skies.

His tears flowed. They were many and endless. He felt they would never stop. He’d cry for the rest of his life, for as long as this exile from the world beyond took.

Outside his window, the first snowflakes began to fall. They marked the start of a very long, very cold winter.

AN: Let it be known that this AU is the only place, besides maybe anything involving Brain Meets Brawn, where Brain’s size can be described as intimidating. I want him to be, you know, like an actual monster and not just a big mouse with horns. Don’t get me wrong, tiny beast!Brain is cute, but that would just be more comical than dramatic if I tried to play it as such a serious moment.

For my personal Beast!Brain, I combined elements from @deez-art and @sleepy-hooves art. Deez for the overall look, and the way he glares at Pinky during the “come into the light” part comes from sleepy-hooves.

In this AU, rather than appearance, Brain fears the loss of control the most. He knows his mind is dwindling away unless he can break the curse. Unlike Disney’s Beast, he’s a bit more proactive with trying to break the curse and tries to keep busy instead of brooding in the West Wing all the time, though some tasks can be very difficult for him.

Yakko is the candelabra, Wakko is the mantle clock, and Dot is the teacup. You’ll have to excuse them for following Pinky around. They’re curious kiddos.

Yakko calling Scratchy a couch potato is literal. Scratchy was turned into a p-sychiatrist’s couch.

No matter what happens, Brain always has a soft spot for the Warners. The Warners aren’t scared of him and will snap back.

Poor Pinky gets put through the wringer. But y’all know the story. Eventually they fall in love and get their happily ever after.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #disney au #i'm sorry pinky #patb fanfiction

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 4 years

Text

For the Love of Shell - Chap 42

Next chappie for those who are reading this!

Here it is from the beginning for those who want to start! Filled with smut my loves

Chapter Forty Two – Betrayal of the Son

By now the palace was now overrun with guards searching for the Daimyo. The sound of the clanging metal of their armor was almost deafening. It had taken Ue-Sama far too long to order the palace searched for Aurora’s liking. Since she had shown up at the palace this morning Ue-Sama had been acting very bizarre. Particularly the kiss he forced onto her after the tournament. He was planning something, she could tell and now with the Daimyo’s disappearance it seemed to solidify her speculation. Now Mikey, Donnie and herself were slipping silently through the palace on their own mission, one being done under Ue-Sama’s nose.

There was no sign of Ue-Sama when they pasted the dining room on their way to the lower levels. It was still in disarray with a few servants trying to clean up the damage. There was a knot forming in her stomach, she did not like this one bit. With the door to the basement in sight Donnie hurried forward and brought his giggles down over his eyes. His hand shot up and waved back signaling them of guards coming up the stairs. The three disappeared easily into the shadows waiting for their opening. With a loud clamor five more guards barreled up the stairs heading to the main hallway. Slipping silently down the poorly lit staircase to the basement and the dungeons, she noticed Mikey and Donnie staying close to her keeping her between them as they descended. They stopped at the first level scattering to cover more ground faster.

“Be careful, yell for us if you find anything or need help.” Donnie gazed down at her with a worried look while his large three fingered hand rested on her lower back.

“Will do.” With a half hearted smile she nodded to the two turtle brothers and ran in the opposite direction in search of any clue of the disappearance of the Daimyo and Splinter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Master Splinter groaned in discomfort as he came too. His skull felt like someone had cracked it open with a sledgehammer. He needed to rub his temples to release some of the pressure but found his arms immobile. In fact when he finally opened his eyes he found he was hanging from a brick wall in a dimly lit room by his wrists that were stretched painfully tight on either side of him. Due to the lack of height he was hanging suspended off the ground. His weight was pulling at his old limbs making the predicament even more excruciating.

A soft cough next to him alerted the old rat he wasn’t alone in his dilemma and his mind went to his dinner companion and the series of events that lead them to this dark musty room. They had been enjoying each other’s company about to start dinner when he tasted something foreign in his soup, something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Dropping his spoon his hands thrust forward disengaging the spoon from his friend’s hand toppling the bowl of soup with it.

Before he would warn the Daimyo about the unknown substance in their food they were attacked. Dark shadowy figured came from everywhere and converged in on them showing no mercy. They fought them as best they could but in the end there was too many and were knocked unconscious. Now in the present they found themselves at the mercy yet again of their captors.

“Splinter?” the groggy voice of the Daimyo hit his fury ears.

“Yes, my old friend I am here with you. It looks like we have found ourselves in quiet a predicament. I wonder who our host is?”

As if on cue a large hooded figure emerged from the shadows with bright red eyes glowing under the heavy hood.

“Who are you? Why have you done this?” The Daimyo scowled yanking on his confines. “Release us at once!”

Rough as gravel, a deep twisted laugh rumbled from the mysterious cloaked figure. The movements so smooth it seemed their captor floated across the room on air, stopping a few inches from the old rat. Two large scaled hands emerged from the large sleeves pushing back the hood.

“Draco!” Splinter hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yes you sniveling rat! How long I’ve waited for my revenge against you and this old fool. Years of planning and now my patience will be rewarded. I will take from you what you love the most in this life and rip ripe apart your son’s bodies using their bloody hollow shells as foot rests. And then after I’ve shown you their mutilated carcasses I will end you!” the red dragon spat at Splinter, his face mere inches from his.

The usual gentle features of the old ninjutsu master hardened and an ominous growl rolled from his lips, “You will not touch my sons.”

“Oh on the contrary you old fool, as we speak they are scattered around the grounds looking for you, two with that little bitch the young daimyo has his sights set on and your two eldest heading to the falls and right into my trap. I have several of my shadow minions at my disposal all ready to attack and dismember each and every one of your sons.”

“What of the woman?” the Daimyo quickly cut in, trying to pry a little more information out of Draco. “And why do you call my son young Daimyo?”

The dragons head snapped to the old man hanging from the wall just next to the giant rat, “Your son seems to have plans for her. He talks about some sort of power that she possesses that could help him. He covets your throne old man hoping having her at his side will solidify his place upon it. Either way it doesn’t matter. I will have my revenge then that brat can have his kingdom.”

The Daimyo’s eyes widened in shock, letting the dragon’s words roll over him. Again his wrists pulled at the metal shackles holding him to the wall. “M-my son……. Is behind this? How can that be?” the sorrow apparent in the old man’s voice trying desperately to hold onto the hope Draco was lying.

“Your son is an idiot; he couldn’t orchestrate this by himself. He is an overgrown child throwing a tantrum that he can’t have the throne right now. The woman is something new though, he fell for her a year ago when she quiet literally fell into your laps. But there is no way she would be persuaded to go along with his plans; she’s too smart for his games and won’t do anything to hurt you. He just refuses to see it. So she will need to be eliminated as well. Which is a shame really, someone with powers would be convenient to have on my side. The idiot already tried wooing her by kissing her after the tournament today but she rejected him. He’s too blind to see she only has eyes for his son, the one in blue, Leonardo is it?” Draco’s red eyes shifted to Splinter. “But that is neither here nor there now and makes no difference. None of them will survive this. I need your son compliant so a strong headed woman is out of the picture.”

“They will find us and foil your plans. You will not succeed.” Splinter smiled; with Aurora at his son’s sides once again they would defeat Draco and Ue-Sama. He was sure of it.

“We will find out now won’t we, because the party is about to begin.”

~~~~~~~~~

Aurora turned down another hallway searching the final group of rooms coming up with nothing, yet again. Each room she had checked her fingers skimmed over every nook and cranny for any hint of a hidden door. Someplace someone could hide two unwilling victims. Finishing with the last room she headed back to the stairs to meet up with Mikey and Donnie.

With her mind spinning with worry she didn’t hear the shadow ninja creep up behind her. By the time she sensed it’s presences it was too late. A hand reached out grasping her long hair pulling her back and down to the ground. Her shriek of surprise echoed through the halls reaching the sensitive ears of Donnie and Mikey but unfortunately they too were in their own battle for their lives. Surrounded by several dark shadowy ninjas Donnie reached for his com calling for his older brothers.

“Don?” the familiar calm voice of their leader came over the speaker on his shoulder.

“Leo we’ve been ambushed in the bowels of the palace. We need back up.” Donnie called into his com anxiously blocking a blow with his bo staff. “They came out of nowhere and have no faces! They look like shadows!”

Knee deep in the falls high above the palace Leo and Raph stopped in their tracks listening to their genius brother in distress. They had come up empty, no tracks or any kind of clues to the whereabouts of Master Splinter and the Daimyo, when Donatello’s frantic call came over their coms.

“Donnie are you alright? Where is Mikey and Aurora? Are they with you?”

After a few seconds Donatello came back over the com, his labored breath telling them it was imperative they hurry. “Mikey is just outside in the hallway with his own party of ninjas. And I don’t know where Aurora is but we did hear her scream a few minutes ago. We can’t get to her! Mikey!!!” then the com went eerily silent.

“Don! Donnie! Are you there?! Donatello!!” Leo felt his heart jump into his throat and looked to Raph with terror in his eyes. They were in trouble and needed their help.

Raph heard the fear in his brother’s voice making the already burning rage inside him increase to an uncontainable inferno. The grips on his sai tightened and he caught his brother’s eyes that held the same wild fury. Someone had kidnapped their father and now were attacking their two younger brothers and Aurora. But then like a light switch Leo’s demeanor changed and lunged forward tackling his larger brother into the water.

Bursting from the surface Raph tried pushing Leo from him, “What the shell Le…..oh!” his eyes immediately narrowed in on the kunai now rooted deep into the top of Leonardo’s shell. Leo had just saved his life for the thousandth time. Reaching up he pulled the offending item from his brother’s shell and they both scrambled to their feet pulling their weapons out. Just like Donnie had described them, they looked on in shock at the weird shadow figures surrounding them. There had to be at least 40 of them closing in on them fast and it didn’t seem like they wanted to play nice.

“Shell, looks like they’re not getting the back they need.” Leo growled readying his katana.

Raphael readied himself as three of the figures launched themselves at him bringing down their weapons on his waiting sai. With a grunt he took the brunt of the force faltering on the slimy rocks below the surface of the water. “Looks like we might need that back up now.”

Reeling back Donnie swung his electrified bo staff forward connecting with two of the ninjas sending them flailing against the wall disintegrating like a puff of cigarette smoke in the wind. The last of his attackers were beside him but with expert balance his long leg shot up colliding with its head making it explode in a cloud of smoke. Without skipping a beat he headed out to help his little brother who was on the ground holding off three of the shadowy figures with his nunchaku.

“DONNIE?!” they both heard Aurora shriek from farther away then they’d like.

Mikey’s gaze snapped to Donnie and they both took action. With a swift kick of his legs Mikey sent the three assailants over his body crumbling to the ground. With the momentum of his legs coming down and his pelvis rolling up into the swing he was on his feet. Then Mikey and Donnie took care of the rest of the dark ninjas with a swift determination to get to their friend in trouble.

Taking off towards the sound of Aurora’s worried cry, they hurried through the halls in search of her. They could hear sounds of metal on metal and exasperated grunts from beyond the bend. Before they rounded the corner two of the shadowy ninjas came sailing out into view colliding with the wall. Taking the corner, they saw her pressed against the wall, eight figures on her ready to drive a tanto blade through her heart.

“A little help guys!” she cried out ripping a hand from one of the them punching it in the face.

They were on them in a second ripping Aurora’s attackers from her body one by one. Mikey lurched forward grabbing the blade poised for her heart and threw it down the empty hallway, the sound of the metal clanging across the ground echoed in the large halls.

Aurora took advantage of the distraction and placed her feet on the wall and pushed forward taking three of the ninjas with her. The back of their heads slammed into the hard surface of the wall behind them making them disappear beneath her momentum. She caught herself before she fell to the floor getting her feet under her. “They’re skilled but break easily. I’ve never seen anything like them; it was like I was fighting shadows of smoke. What the hell are these things?” Aurora groaned picking up her blades taking care of another ninja.

Donnie electrocuted the last one ending their current fight. Mikey went to Aurora making sure she was alright. His eyes moved over her body assessing damages, touching and pushing at her skin.

Her fingers found his quickly easing his overzealous attention to a halt. “I’m fine Mikey.” Aurora tried her best not to be too cold with the two brothers but didn’t want to act like them being together in this moment felt right. She couldn’t let herself get used to their presences; this was a temporary mission to save the Daimyo and Master Splinter. After this was over Leo would no doubt end this as well.

“They put up quite a fight, we must be getting close.” Donnie calmly stated using his goggles to scan for heat signatures on the level they were still on.

“Agreed, let’s move to the lower level.” Aurora moved around Mikey who was still looking at her hopeful. His baby blues tore at her soul, she wanted to tell him all would be alright but time was of the essence and they needed to move.

The three of them descended to the lowest level of the palace, this time sticking together. The silence that hung around the dungeon was a bit unsettling. No guards what so ever nor any prisoners. The uneasy feeling within each of them grew. This was too easy.

“Shell!” Donnie broke the eerie calm. “I called Leo for back up a while ago; he should have been here by now.” His fingers flew to his com calling for his older brother. No response came so Donnie called again this time for Raphael. Still nothing, a deafening silence that made the already chilly dungeon seem suddenly colder. “I don’t like this.”

~~~~~~~~~

Draco landed another blow to Splinters jaw continuing his unrelenting assault on the old rat. With each strike the metal chains moaned from the sudden movement of the body it held. Blood was running down the dark fur of the old sensei’s mouth but showed no sign of discomfort. The Daimyo beside him pleaded with the large dragon to stop his assault but if fell on deaf ears as another hit connected with Splinters gut.

Without warning several dark cloaked ninjas appeared behind the angry dragon. His attacks ended as one whispered in his ear. The smug smile slipped from his face into a frustrated scowl.

“They’re down here already?! They took out how many of you? SIMPILTONS!! Yes, send more to stop them! I can’t have them ending this plan just as it begins!” as quickly as they came the ninjas vanished into the shadows leaving the dragon with his two helpless prisoners. Reaching to the wall he grabbed the cloak he had removed when he started his assault on Master Splinter and swung it back around his shoulders lifting the hood to conceal his face once more. “You’re lucky I have other things to attend too you old fools, but I will be back to finish this. I have some turtle flesh to filet.” His wicked eyes flashed and retreated out the hidden door in the wall leaving them alone.

“My friend! Are you alright?” the daimyo immediately called to his battered friend. A soft cough alerted him to fact the old rat was still in fact breathing. The chains creaked when Splinter shifted uncomfortably spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“Am I my friend, a little worse for wear but I am alive. Do not worry my sons will free us, they will stop this madness.”

“They have too.” The daimyo started. “If they try and use the war staff without proper training they will bring upon destruction to this dimension and all who reside here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The pull for air made his lungs burn as Leo fought the many hands that held his body submerged under the current of the river feeding the massive waterfall several feet down stream. There was far too many of these shadow ninjas for Raph and himself to defeat. They seemed to come out of nowhere like the never ending flow of water they fought in.

It had been almost an hour since Donnie had called them for help and they were ambushed on top of the waterfall. He hoped all three of them were alright. They had to be, he didn’t know what he would do if he lost his two younger brothers and Aurora. But the way things were looking they might lose him, there were so many on top of him keeping his head below the water drowning him. The strength was leaving him as the lack of oxygen to his brain began to affect his dexterity, he was losing this fight.

~~~~~~

Aurora could feel it, something was horribly wrong. More wrong then what was happening in the dungeon with Donnie, Mikey and herself fighting off an infinite flow of these damn ninja. Every cell in her body was on alert, something else was happening, something was happening to Leonardo and Raphael.

“Guys!” she screamed over the thunder of clanging metal and grunts. “We have to get to Leo and Raph! Something’s wrong!” Blocking another tirade of attacks Aurora flipped up landing just behind the shadows slicing through them with her katana.

As Donnie fought his goggles scanned the walls for false walls and air drafts. They had to be down here judging by the massive assault they were receiving. Then something flashed in his goggles when he turned to deliver a shock from his bo staff. Quickly turning back he saw two warm bodies behind the wall, a large form and a smaller one hanging midair.

“There!” Donnie screamed pointing to the small wall just a few feet from where Aurora was.

Immediately Aurora sprang for the wall feeling with her hands for anything to open the hidden door all the while keeping the growing mass of ninjas as bay. Out the corner of her eye she saw the blade gliding through the air aimed for her throat, determined to hit it’s mark with extreme prejudice. Before it could find its target the hilt of Mikey’s nunchaku stopped its momentum pushing back the assailant.

“I got your back angel cakes!” the orange banded turtle smiled at her while taking down anther ninja with his band hands.

The battle in the dingy basement was deafening, she couldn’t hear herself think. A shove behind her sent her sprawling against the cold brink of the wall she was searching. But with a stroke of luck the hit brought her fingers in contact for the latch for the door making the brick door shift open revealing the entrance to the hidden cell.

The heavy scrapping of the brick door opening brought the Daimyo’s and Spinsters eyes to the entrance of their confinement. Expecting the tall hooded dragon to appear they were surprised by two spinning blades followed by Aurora as she fought her way in.

Her eyes snapped to the old men hanging on the wall. The state Master Splinter was in sent her blood boiling. Battered and broke he was bleeding from several parts of his old furry body; someone had worked him over pretty good. Thankfully the Daimyo looked unharmed for the most part besides a busted lip and his white hair askew. “Donnie! Mikey!” she bellowed ending the five ninja currently before her. Whoever had hurt Master Splinter would pay, would pay dearly.

@imthegreenfairy88 @bluesakurablossom @ravn-87 @alonia143 @tmnt-bucklover

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michaelangelo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #Fortheloveofshell #chapter 42 #aurora-the-kunoichi

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 3 years

Text

Real Planning, Finally

The systems that exist in my version of the space-themed 2D platformer for my programming class (My additions in bold):

Space man (player) moves according to player inputs, including left, right, jump, and double-jump. (Note: Double-jump uses a system where landing resets your “jumpsSinceLastGrounded” variable to 0, and you can only jump if the variable is below two.) There is also dashing; Pressing left or right twice in quick succession gives extra movement speed in that direction for as long as you hold the button. Just occurred to me that this interaction is one of a few places where the d-pad or WASD would be fine but the thumbstick on a controller would be awkward. (tap-tap-hold is fine, but flicking the stick right and instantly letting it center is easiest done by letting go of it, which isn’t actually a comfortable movement)

I think for cleaner control, we’re going to go with down-arrow or S on keyboard being run, and then

The camera follows the player’s movement.

There are tiles that can be painted into the scene along a grid. Some of them are animated, such as wires sticking out of the walls with lights that blink or twirl. Others are contextual, like platforms that put rivets on their corners (and only on their corners. For clarity of use I’ll be using the white riveted tiles as my foreground and a mix of the darker riveted and the dark “ground” tiles as background. For fun I might include a few spots near the bottom of the level where it’s got light “ground” tiles, making it a kind of built-around-the-land terraforming station.

Showing this off: We’ll want several jumps that can be made normally and several more which can be made with double-jump.

There are robot enemies, which can only be killed by the environment. (They had a mechanic to lose hp when stomped Mario-style, but I’ve opted to make them dangerous puzzle-game pieces instead, so I had to either design a respawner or just make them invulnerable to stomping) They’ll do substantial damage if the player runs into them, so you need to jump over or on them. They also bounce the player upwards when stomped on, which is why I decided to make them more puzzle-gamey.

Showing this off: At least one jump will involve a bot in a pit. To get across you hop into the pit and bounce off of the bot, then double-jump from the bounce apex to get out of the other side.

There are pickups. I think I’m going to transfer this into a system other than High Score. I find high score systems bland, but do want to integrate the pickups. I’m thinking each pickup you get will increase your max hp, so if you get enough of them your hp bar can stand up to an extra hit or two.

You have a health bar. The system they handed us used Zelda-style hearts, but beyond the fact that I think a health bar looks better I want fine control of this because

Acid hurts the player as a function of time touching it. Unlike the enemies, which hit you for a big chunk of your hp and then render you immune to damage for 2 seconds, acid tiles hit you continuously for 1 damage per 1/10 second. Our modern systems have a function called Time.DeltaTime that lets us handle things based directly on the individual computer’s framerate, allowing us to normalize effects to actual seconds whether the system is running at 10 frames a second or 120.

Dropping a bot into the acid will damage it, instantly killing weaker ones and finishing off the tougher ones 2 seconds later...Actually if I leave the numbers alone both will explode basically instantly; Acid uses the same hurtbox on players and enemies and doesn’t trigger invulnerability, and strong robots have 2 hp...so they’d die in 0.2 seconds. I’ll probably just let that be.

There are animated vents that open when someone walks in front of them. Pressing up activates all the opened vents. The vents move both the player and the robots. Dropping a robot into acid with a vent is the only way to permanently remove it.

There’s going to be one spot where a vent opens to over an acid pit. It won’t be deep, so if the player accidentally goes in that vent they can get out okay.

Actually, I’m going to make a change. Taking damage from acid will reset the player’s Jump. This will functionally simulate the capacity to swim. The nice thing with this is I can then have an acid pit deeper than the player’s double-jump height for aesthetic reasons if I want, yet have falling into it not be guaranteed (but annoyingly slow) death. It also means an impatient player can kind of “skip” over the top of the water, taking 2-3 points of damage as they make contact but immediately double-jumping back out so they’re spending most of their time safely in the air.

There are doors with keycards. The assets come with a full set of 5 or 6 of these, plenty for one large level if I want to use them at all.

There’s a big victory crystal for the end point, already programmed to bring up the victory screen and play the victory noise.

Since I’m only making one giant level, I think I will still have a front page so there can be controls instructions but I’ll remove the level select button.

Because I’m spawning in the whole level at once, the only time I can have a robot fall off of something on its own is at the beginning of the level. After that if I want a robot that descends stairs or something I’ll need to put a vent at the top of the steps and let the player vent the bot to up there.

#programming #unity #csharp #2d platformer #game design

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

B lea se, pblea se give us a full continuation of the Cameraman comic I beg 😔🙏

Summary: After accidentally growing to the size of a giant, Cameraman makes some poor decisions that lead him into colossal trouble.

A written continuation of my one page Cameraman comic!

---

[[MORE]]

It wasn't uncommon for the Society for the Shellacking of Souper Boris's HQ to suffer considerable damage on occasion, especially since there were three villains living there. Plotting their next big hit with varying degrees of ingenuity and force, which often left things quite the mess in general.

But nothing that the big burly wolf with the volatile temper, or even the twisted demoness with sharp tongue and coiled arms ever did, could come so close as to compare with the absolute madness of Cameraman's more, shall we say, cinematic plots…

It was true that he was the least aggressive and troublesome of the trio when working with them in causing mischief. More often than not he even opted for the easier things in their plans, like petty thievery and slight vandalism, while the Brute and Miss Twisted handled the flashier things that really got the cops angry with them.

When he did things solo however… Well he'd wanted to make it big as a movie director once, and it showed.

His one-man plans were convoluted and honestly quite ambitious.

They also ended with him wrecking the base with whatever invention he came up with that week.

Never on purpose really! He was just a little clumsy.

Although, at this very moment, he was anything but little...

By his reasoning, the plan would have been flawless. Finish calibrating his shrink ray that took him weeks to construct, use one of the Society's inconspicuous vehicles to cart it all the way to the city, and then use it to shrink Steven Spigberg's annoyance of a studio all the way down to miniature size. Knock it down to its actual level, since it did nothing but hash out the same stale unnecessary sequel plots over and over again.

A spectacular lesson in humility, or at least Cameraman had envisioned it as such.

He hadn't accounted for accidentally bumping and reversing the controls, causing his machine to zap him instead of the test subject he'd been placing upon a little pedestal (just to see if he didn't accidentally disintegrate his target), and ending up in a completely avoidable colossal sized mishap instead.

But then he supposed he could still make part of the plan work. After all, the idea was that he'd be able to fit the studio in his hand…

"Oof… My head…" he could really do without the aches, but then again he'd just grown a whole lot in mere seconds. The fact he hadn't simply exploded should be more than reason to overlook the growing pains. Patting his own head carefully to check if he hadn't cracked his casing, he felt his pinky brush against something odd and that should be there. "Hm?"

Feeling over it with his index finger, Cameraman carefully searched for some manner of grip before carefully pinching the unknown object between two fingers and bringing it over to his lens to inspect it.

To his great surprise it was the Society's base. Mostly intact, although missing a large part of the bottom from him outgrowing it. The upper floor looked intact enough, albeit the horn fixture he was holding onto was now bent from him gripping it.

"My goodness it's so small… or rather, I'm the one who's quite big…" he squinted, shutter zooming in on the damaged windows. He could sort of see his two roommates staring out at him with expressions he couldn't quite make out. "Oh! Hello there, sorry for the state of the base. Things took quite the unexpected turn as you can see..."

Rather than get a reply, both of his partners in crime seemed to huddle up in a corner and cower.

That was odd… Missy and Brute weren't the type to be intimidated. Especially not by him. Maybe it was the heights.

"Right… I'll set you down now. I've much to do still, even if not everything has gone according to plan." He carefully set the damaged base back onto the swamp grounds, being mindful of the shallows so his two friends didn't end up sinking and drowning. "It's as they say. The show must go on!"

Once the base was safely on the ground, Cameraman began standing up. He was surprised by the sensation of vertigo as he did, groaning as nausea hit him.

He felt… Heavy. Stumbled a bit as he righted himself, and nearly toppled all over again. Had gravity increased on him? Probably… his feet were sinking into the marshy ground as well, so his new height and weight were not any easier to handle on such unstable terrain.

"Walk it off, it'll be fine you worrywart… Just a matter of getting used to this." he shook his head and took a few tentative steps forward. His shutters clicked in annoyance as he kicked up the murky water as he moved. "My poor socks are going to be soaked through… I hope to dry up once I've reached the city. It wouldn't do to enact revenge while drenched… I might catch a cold."

He kept on walking, finding it steadily easier to move as long as he kept himself going. Just a matter of getting used to it as he'd thought.

Luckily his growth hadn't just brought unpleasant side effects. It had greatly improved his perspective as well!

He could just about see the big city in the distance and he was quite excited to look it over up close.

The once-little camera toon had seen the rooftops plenty of times (mostly from being either thrown by his partners in crime or from being carried by that no-show lupine interloper, and then a chowder enthusiast of an angel), but never at this scale. He assumed it would likely be like looking down at an impressive maquette, a much more detailed one than the miniatures he'd whittled out for the base's planning room (which had been reduced to rubble he was sure). More detailed. More deserving of more than a slight glance.

Wouldn't hurt to take a few photos before he took what he wanted.

Bouillonburg wasn't the largest of the cities in the country, but it was still considered a major location in of itself. It was home to several hundreds of toons, had multiple quaint businesses, and at least two very nice parks to fill in the picturesque idea of an urban zone.

The perfect place for a myriad of Pluto's youngest legions to prove their worth through acts of both evil and mischief.

Today however, trouble presented itself not in a grinning imp with a head shaped like a half-moon, but in something tremendously massive lumbering towards the unsuspecting city at a slow but long-reaching pace.

The first warning was a slight tremor spaced out like rhythmic thumping. The kind that caused liquids to ripple in their containers.

Then the intensity of the shaking gradually climbed, and people began to grow nervous when objects began to fall off shelves, or when the glass windows began to creak and shake against their frames.

When the shadow of what could only be considered a colossal sized monster fell upon the city, that's when folks really started to panic.

Crowd dispersal went as you'd usually see on a disaster flick, with lots of screaming and running as several hundreds of toons attempted to flee the giant's humongous steps. Not that Cameraman noticed this.

He was much too distracted staring at all the buildings he was so used to look up at, rather than examining from up and above.

"This is all so very adorable!" He marveled as he peered into an office building, squinting at the many workers in their little cubicles. "I wish I could make miniatures as detailed as the real deal…"

He reached over to poke one of the windows, and winced when his finger went through.

"Oops…" he withdrew his finger and stared down at the many shards of glass embedded in it. It didn't hurt, the fabric had kept it from piercing skin, but it had still startled him. He was so focused on it he didn't see the toons inside running for the stairs and elevators in pure terror. "That's a lot more fragile than I thought… I should refrain from touching glass."

Shaking off the shock, Cameraman's gaze went downwards and his attention was caught by a phone booth.

Crouching down he peered at it with his curious lens.

At his regular size he needed his portable step ladder to reach the phone (yes he was quite short, so what?), but at this height he was more than capable of reaching over the rooftops of the tallest buildings.

"Well it's not like I need to make a call right now either way… But it sure looks charming." He focused on it and took a picture. His flash went off with a loud crackle, all around him more toons fled from the noise and bright light that hurt their eyes.

With more effort than should be necessary, Cameraman got back onto his feet and carried on his merry way. He stopped on occasion to take more photos of the many buildings and tiny structures.

Completely oblivious to the damage he was causing as he trekked forward.

His footsteps caused the ground to quake violently, the sound of his reverberating voice made glass crack and ears ring, and his weight was splitting concrete apart as if it were made of styrofoam.

To him this was all in good fun. Good harmless fun, because he wasn't antagonizing anyone.

Just seeing the sights and appreciating his new perspective on life.

This quickly changed when he reached his destination.

"Right… There it is." The object-headed toon rubbed his hands together eagerly as he caught sight of his target. Steven Spigberg's studio. That fat swine's precious little cash grab factory was about to get literally uprooted by the very toon that horrid film director scoffed at and turned away. "Let's see who's insignificant when I'm the one owning your precious little studio…"

Sights set Cameraman walked on, not once looking where he was treading and his thick shoes making quick work of benches and parked cars (and really anything else) that were unfortunately in his path. It didn't occur to him that he should be watching his step.

The studio was nestled between another office building and a coffee shop that also serviced object and object-head toons (a rarity since most others disliked non-food based smells near their pastries and beverages of choice). It had the best hydroquinone and nicest rolls of film he'd ever had, so it was a shame such a blight ruined it for him.

He wondered briefly what they'd build on the soon to be vacant spot. Hopefully a book store to compliment the aesthetic of the coffee shop.

"Let's see… there's going to be pipework in there, so best to go down and up, like carefully picking a flower, roots and all." He rested the back of his hand on the ground and pressed his fingers against the very bottom of the studio and then, in one swift motion, he dug his fingers under and pulled up. He expected the building to just pop out of the ground with ease, not for his hand to pass through like it was made of sand. "O-oh!"

Startled by the destruction of the building he'd planned to steal, Cameraman pulled his arm back abruptly. Swinging it to the right and crashing right through a section of the office building.

Yelping in fright he moved back, his left foot coming down on top of the coffee shop and crushing it as if he'd stepped on a cardboard box. Bringing his hands up in horror Cameraman stepped back once more in a panic. He stared down at the rubble in dismay.

"Oh goodness… I… I didn't mean to do that!" He knelt down hoping to find a way to correct his mistake, but as soon as he grabbed hold of any solid looking debris they crumbled in his grasp into fine dust. "F-fiddlesticks…"

He was too big to fix what he broke.

Looking back at the slightly damaged office building, Cameraman stood back onto his feet and peered inside. The stairs and elevators were blocked by rubble and there were several people trying to unblock the way out.

"Oh… wait I can help you down!" He reached in, hoping that helping these people would compensate for ruining their workspace but, as soon as the toons saw his hand they began scrambling away, their high pitched shrieks barely registering in his audio receptors. The fear in their movements however… "You don't need to be afraid. That was an accident I swear!"

He tried to reach the group, leaning forward just a little bit more. Then gravity caught up with him and the camera toon's shutter widened as he realized too late that his balance was way off. He tumbled forward, taking out the rest of the building with him.

"AUGH!!!" He hit his head hard on the ground, a sharp pain in his shoulder causing him to instinctively prime his laser and blast the nearest "threat".

Except there wasn't a threatening foe causing him any harm. Just the helpless cityscape.

Taking a second to sit up and shake his aching head Cameraman looked down at his shoulder, wincing when he saw a long metal bean stabbing through it.

His gaze then locked on with the damage he'd caused up ahead.

There was fire, a lot of it, and just now he could make out the terrified city folk scrambling all around like scared ants.

Glancing around at the path he'd taken, the object-headed toon noticed all the destruction he'd caused while having his silly little fun.

"Oh no…" he was a villain, that much he accepted. But he'd never really done something so terrible that it hurt several hundred people on such a scale.

He'd never killed anyone before, or dreamt of doing such a thing.

Looking down at the three buildings he'd crushed, and the ones currently ablaze, he doubted that was true anymore. "This wasn't what I wanted…"

He needed to get out of the city, before he destroyed something or hurt anyone else.

Looking around once more however… well easier said than done.

The path ahead was on fire, the way back was already in quite the state, and the only other exit he could see looked a little narrow. Still it was worth risking considering all the people heading towards where he'd come from in the hopes of escaping. Escaping, as if he were doing this on purpose…

Narrow streets it is. He'd just have to suck in his belly and keep his arms up for however long it took to get past this new hurdle. Hopefully his arms wouldn't tire before he was clear.

Taking a deep breath, Cameraman stepped forward, now very aware of just how cramped the tiny sidewalks and roads were.

"Oof…" he winced as his heel just about crushed the front of a parked car "I hope that was insured…"

His knee caught the side of a tree, snapping it like a twig, and he pulled his hand away from the way of a power line as he tried to maneuver through the streets.

Sideways should do the trick…He sucked in his gut and began side-stepping through the cramped pathway he'd picked.

What was it with apartment complexes and tiny balconies that faced alleyways?

The escape ladders he could understand, but why the balconies?

The camera toon groaned as his chest and back got poked and scratched by hard edges and sharp rails.

His aching shoulder was already bothering him enough.

"Just stay calm and you'll be through in no time…" he told himself as he kept on moving. And then he gulped nervously as he felt the alley narrow further. "... Oh this is a problem."

Against his better judgement he continued… And immediately stopped as he felt his hips jammed against two buildings.

Trying to push or pull away made both buildings shake dangerously.

"... Come on…" his arms were starting to tire. He needed to figure out how to get away without breaking anything else. Glancing down to see if there was a safer way to unwedge himself, his shutters fell upon one of the balconies of the building ahead of him. He focused on a tiny lady surrounded by several flowers that was staring up at him with wide eyes. "... Uh… hello?"

The lady shrieked and immediately started throwing her potted plants at him.

He winced and kept his lens well away from her range. Impressive that she thought a few hits with a few vases would save her from something more than twice her own size, but also quite annoying.

"Please stop." If he tried anything he might just hurt her, and honestly that wasn't really his style. Taking punishment like this was also not his style. "If I could I'd be out of your hair already."

He leaned back from another hit and yelped as he felt his back bump against the other building. The pressure suddenly giving away and sending him tumbling back like a house of cards falling in on itself. Kicking up dust and debris up into the air around him.

Once the cloud settled he sighed.

Great, at this rate he'd be known as Klutzzilla, destroyer of private property...

Blinking his shutters he looked back up at the lady with a glare. She seemed to get the hint and fled back inside of her apartment.

"Right…" he went back to the laborious chore of getting back on his feet. He was really starting to get tired of this repetitive charade.

If it weren't the guilt keeping him from bashing through the city to get back home he would have already done it. "No, no that's not the correct way to do this, don't let this get to your head… the Society only needs one big brute…"

He wondered what his two friends might be doing. Likely fixing up the base and waiting to chew him out for making a mess of things.

They might want to wait for him to tell them how to rebuild his shrink ray so that he'll be easier to scold, rather than both yelling up at him.

Back up and at it again, Cameraman left what remained of the alleyway and began to tiptoe over the various urban obstacles. Phone booths, more parked cars, benches, the occasional straggler running by and performing an impressive Wilhelm impression, and even a kiosk or two (the first one he couldn't help snap a picture of, despite the circumstances everything still looked gosh darned cute to him!). It was a little like being a child all over again, playing hopscotch.

Only someone had strewn legos and other toys all over the rectangles.

He was also not particularly good at hopscotch, and jumping around with an injured shoulder was really not a good experience.

The people and infrastructures were also not liking the impact of each jump.

Cameraman winced when several clothes lines and other miscellaneous objects began to fall from the sides of buildings.

"And they say misfortune only doubles on Friday the 13th, the moment I gained a few feet I've been nothing if not plagued by bad luck!" He poked the metal bean protruding from his shoulder and fought back the urge to scream. "I hope this doesn't get infected. I'd be very upset with myself if that happened… or worse, what if I get tetanus?! My shots aren't due until Thursday!"

Well if the clinic he frequented hadn't yet given out and collapsed from all his mucking around that is…

"Ok Cameraman, don't freak yourself out like this... Think of home." Yes, home, away from this poor city. Back with his friends who'd no doubt take pity on him as soon as they saw him hurt.

Villains or not, they weren't heartless spawns of evil… err, well at least two of them. But even Missy had a heart. They weren't monsters. "Yes home. Home…. The swamp is that way, just avoid stepping on anyone."

Renewed vigor carried him forward, only stopping to make sure fleeing citizens weren't accidentally crushed underfoot.

He really did not want murder to be added to his criminal records.

Although he was pretty sure involuntary manslaughter would end up there somewhere after this ordeal was dealt with.

"There we go, nice and easy. No more tomfoolery." He was pleased with how the streets were opening up. The smoke back there was getting pretty thick in the air though... Was the wind blowing his way or was he imagining it?

It was irritating his ventilation system for sure. Irritating it quite a bit actually.

"Gosh darn soothy smoke!" He scrubbed at the discrete vents irritably, almost like someone scratching their nose.

He shook his head vigorously, finding it difficult to see now that his shutter and lens were welling up with lubricant, trying to dislodge the sooth filtering in through the seams. "Oh it itches!"

Helplessly scrubbing at both the leaking lens and his ventilation system, Cameraman was suddenly overcome by the enormous need to sneeze.

Uh-oh.

"Do not sneeze, you know what happens when you sneeze!" His desperate scrubbing and scratching increased in intensity as he tried to prevent the inevitable. The moment the mechanism to prime his laser sight clicked on, he immediately looked up as a way to prevent further devastation. "A-ah… Aah...AACHOO!!!!"

The laser shot out of his lens as he stumbled back, zooming upwards at high speed and hitting a previously unnoticed news blimp that had been flying overhead. The object-headed toon said nothing as he watched the darn thing fall out of the sky like a swatted fly, and collide with another building further away before bursting into flames.

He covered his face and groaned in frustration. Was there anything in this city he hadn't broken yet?!

"Dang it…" If not take pity on his physical injuries, then surely Missy and Brute would take pity on his bruised ego instead.

It took far too long to get out of the (ruined) city. No matter how careful he'd tried to be, Cameraman had simply brought tremendous devastation with each tentative step towards being home free.

If he stopped to think about it, it made perfectly logical sense.

He was used to his actual stature and weight, so suddenly becoming some sort of titan had completely tipped the scales for him.

His regular clumsiness cranked up tenfold as he tried to navigate a world that was suddenly more fragile than he was accustomed to.

Of course in his current state he didn't really have the time to sit around for a moment of introspection, nor to contemplate on the fact he'd been an idiot and gone through with an idea that was doomed from the start.

From the moment he'd bumped the controls to this very moment in time, where he was tiredly stumbling back to the Society's HQ.

The metal beam stuck in his shoulder yet to be pulled out, since every instinct told him that doing that right now wouldn't be good for him. He needed to be sure he had help to deal with that.

And, as that thought entered his mind, something slowly clicked.

Stopping in his tracks Cameraman looked around in confusion.

Where… where was the base?

He was sure as all heck that he'd placed it in the shallows, and that was right there, next to that rotten log wedged by that one rock that looked like a hippo.

"Where…?" He scratched his flash's connection point in confusion as he glanced around. "I could have sworn I placed it here…"

He squinted, focusing on the murky water before crouching down to try to look for the distinct devil shaped building.

He even went so far as turning on his light, but it didn't pierce deep into the filthy water's depths.

Racking his memory to be sure he wasn't mistaken, he recalled placing the base right there and leaving.

He'd stumbled a bit, but he hadn't moved anywhere near the base, just splashed up a little water over his boots and… and…

His building sized boots…

Horror struck him as it suddenly dawned on him that what he'd perceived as little splashes were likely waves several feet in height, with the crashing force of a freightliner colliding with a steam boat…

"Oh no…" he carefully placed his hands in the water and began to feel around for the base, dragging himself forward and searching desperately not just for home, but for his friends as well. "Please be ok!! Please be ok!!!"

All that came up was random junk people had carelessly thrown in the swamp. The SSSB's base was nowhere to be found, and neither were Cameraman's only two friends for the matter… likely washed out into the deepest part of the swamp.

Likely… likely dead, from being trapped in a sinking base, because their friend was an incompetent fool.

"Oh goodness… no, I… I didn't…" the combination of the pain on his shoulder and exhaustion made him stop his fruitless search. As realization sunk in deeper, grief took hold. "I didn't mean to…"

Sniffling loudly, the camera toon hid his leaking lens in his hands and began to cry.

He'd ruined everything because of some stupid vendetta against a film studio! And now he'd be stuck as a klutz of a giant, alone and cold forever!

Sobbing loudly into his hands, Cameraman didn't notice the sounds of even splashes as someone rowed towards him, and was too caught up in his own sadness to register something beginning to tap against his knee.

He thought it was probably just flotsam that he'd loosened during his desperate rummaging.

When the tapping was replaced with a sharp jab, however, he did pull his hands away and rub at his lens to clear up the tears.

Staring up at him looking a complete tired mess, were Miss Twisted and Brute, both standing atop their base which they'd strapped to some sort of bizarre makeshift raft they'd fashioned up of logs, branches and whatever they could find that could make it as buoyant as possible.

The rows they'd improvised were also just several sticks tied together, and Missy had used the gripping end of hers to poke him to get his attention.

He was so dumbstruck he didn't say anything, which seemed to annoy the demoness.

"CAM YOU BETTER BE READY FOR A WALLOPING BECAUSE ONCE WE FIX UP THIS MESS I'M GONNA BEAT YOU SO HARD OVER THE HEAD YOU'LL BECOME AN INSTANT CAMERA INSTEAD!" He could just barely make out her high pitched screeching, but lord if it wasn't the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard! Shutters welling up all over again, the object-headed toon carefully scooped up the base from beneath the water and carefully brought it closer.

"HEY PUT US DOWN! WE'RE NOT A TOY YOU BIG… Big… Cammy are you crying?" The embers of Miss Twisted's ire were quickly extinguished by concern as she caught sight of the big fat tears dripping out of his lens.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE BOTH DEAD!" He cried out, choking back another sob as he watched them both flinch and grab at their ears in pain. "P-pardon my outburst… I'm just so relieved I… I thought I'd drowned you both accidentally!"

"No, but that almost happened! Cam what were you thinking, making yourself into some big behemoth? How's that gonna help you at all?!" She tapped her foot impatiently. "Take it from a demon pal, the bigger they are, the harder they fall! I've seen archdemons topple like dominoes because they thought bigger was better… it's a stupid macho sentiment that ends in tears and humiliation."

"This wasn't what I was going for, believe me… I err… I merely miscalculated the calibration of my machine and this sort of… Ended up being the result." He looked as sheepish as one could without an actual face.

"You messed up and tried to save face uh?" She deadpanned as she dropped her arms again at her sides. Brute merely watching the exchange.

"Yes…" he admitted hesitantly as he glanced back towards the city. He could still see the smoke. "In hindsight, I should have realized that was foolish of me… Where's the fun in being a villain if there's no city left to practice villainy upon?"

"Cameraman destroy whole city?!" Brute gawked up at him in dismay.

"Not ALL of it… just err… 75%?" An explosion in the distance made him flinch. "Make that 95%..."

"I'll say… there's also something frigging stuck to your arm!" Missy pointed out, grimacing at the sight of the embedded metal beam currently still on his person.

"I know… I didn't want to touch it until I knew for sure I could have it looked at… which I can't right now." He also didn't want to touch it again. It really did hurt quite a bit when he poked it!

"Uh… how do fix Cameraman?" Brute asked. "Me no think lab ok…"

"No, no it's not. Cammy crushed it with his big fat butt." Missy groaned. "Please tell me you know how to rebuild your machine so we can revert this…"

"I do recall how to recreate it, yes. However, at this size I can't do so myself…" he carefully set down the base onto his knees so that he could rest his arm a bit. Making sure to stabilize it, he brought his knees closer to himself and leaned his head down so that now his lens was overing close to his two friends.

His shutter clicked shut as both reached up to pat the rim lightly in an attempt to comfort him. "I know you've likely gone through an ordeal already due to my carelessness… but could you perhaps build it for me? I really don't think it'd be wise for me to ruin any of the building materials."

"So needy, you big dumbo…" the demoness chuckled "Fine, we'll clean up your mess. But you're so doing our chores for the next month."

"And help with Brute's and Miss's plans!" The beefy wolf added.

"Deal." He held out his pinky so they could shake on it. Once both the smaller toons grabbed it with their little (cute) mitts, he carefully raised it up and down.

"Right! Off to work we go!"

It ended up being more of a one girl job to build a replica of the ray gun that Cameraman had created, so while Miss Twisted busied herself with that particular task, Brute had gone ahead and repaired the base. He was used to doing it by now, with just how often it got wrecked.

It was only natural he was picking up a few tricks on how to fix it up nice and quickly, without sacrificing stability and comfort.

He thought it was nice to have a home for a change, rather than some dingy alleyway or a prison cell, so he made sure to maintain it when needed. He was sure his two friends appreciated that tender act on his part. His way of showing a softer less thuggish side while still getting to show off his impressive musculature.

Call him a meathead all you wanted, he liked showing off what got him somewhere in life (through his own effort).

Once done, Brute nodded to himself in satisfaction before going to check in on the others. He came out just in time to see the metal beam once piercing through his friend's shoulder crashing down into the water, and then the femme fatale of the group firing a well aimed energy beam at the wounded object-head looming over her.

Brute covered his one eye to avoid looking at the bright light, and then uncovered it once the world dimmed back to its normal lighting. Not that there was that much sunlight left anymore, the sun was setting pretty quick as it was late in the afternoon.

Still he could just about make out a familiar tiny figure just hovering up in the air for a few brief seconds, before gravity caught up and brought him back down and crashing into the freezing water.

"10 points for that spectacular belly flop! What's your score, big guy?" Missy grinned impishly as she watched their friend resurface and splutter a bit from the shock of getting drenched by the swamp's murky embrace.

"Meh… Brute gives it an 8. Brute has seen better." The lumbering wolf shrugged as he moved over to pick up the trembling toon that was barely able to lift his arm. The wound looked very nasty and needed to be disinfected asap now that it had come into contact with a direct source of filth and bacteria "Cameraman need nurse Brute now. Fix up arm real good!"

"T-thank you big fella… I do f-feel a little woozy…"

"You boys go on ahead, I'm getting rid of this hunk of metal… More trouble than it's worth." She pointed at the ray gun "From now on, no mucking around with sizes!"

"Yes ma'am" both replied at the same time before Brute carried the injured Cameraman inside.

Missy watched them go before simply reaching over to the main panel and ripping out the wiring, disabling the miserable piece of mechanical junk for good. Once that was done, she simply kicked the ray gun into the water and dusted herself.

Satisfied with the deed, she briefly glanced towards the thick smoke in the distance and shook her head.

"What a shame... But hey, at least Cammy brought some scrap metal back…" she glanced at the half submerged beam. It was stained by whatever chemicals the little guy had to pass for blood, but it was an easy enough thing to clean off "Should get to stripping that before it gets too rusty…"

She went inside looking for that one big saw she'd gotten as a reward from Papa Pluto, for ruining some rich snob's party by dumping laxatives into the punch.

That had been a fun night, and that saw could cut through almost everything including solid metal.

On her way back out, she peered into the Society's shared bedroom and nodded at Brute who had just walked out holding the first aid kit.

"How's that shoulder of his?" She asked.

"Cameraman will live. Him asleep now, like little baby." He stepped aside to show her this and, sure enough, there was the shorter of the three curled up in his drawer bed. Tucked in and capped lens tucked under his uninjured arm. It was kind of cute watching him sleep so peacefully after such a rough day.

"Aww… poor little guy tuckered himself out. Must have had a pretty long day playing in the city."

"Ah-yuh." Brute nodded in agreement as he set the kit aside. He looked back at her almost curiously "What do Brute and Missy do now?"

"Well I was gonna strip that beam for scrap, but that'll be noisy… Cammy needs his rest, so why don't we go to the city and loot some goodies while everyone is too busy to stop us?"

"Me like plan!"

"Knew you would, big guy! Come along then!" She made sure to carefully close the bedroom door, but not before looking at the sleeping camera toon one more time. Yeah, he'd earned his rest. "Sweet dreams, you little weirdo…"

And with that done, off they went to cause some more trouble.

All the while their friend dreamt of the simpler things in life, like causing minor mischief with his two (and only) greatest pals in the whole world.

No more dreaming too big, he'd stick with the small-fry stuff thank you very much!

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy crack up comics #cameraman #miss twisted #the brute #long post

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industrialworkplatforms · 3 years

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Adjustable Work Platform

What are the Stepover Work Platforms?

Stepover Work Platforms are designed to provide a secure means of access and over obstacles on the roof or any other area. They act as bridges over obstructions like pipes and industrial machinery. They may be used on many different roof types or in different environments (like factories, warehouses). When used correctly, it improves roof safety and facilitates maintenance work. Depending on its design, a step may be installed on roofs and the ground. It may be free-standing or fixed into the floor. For more informaion to click here https://www.portablestage.co.uk/listing/temporary-work-platforms/

They're easy to put together and maintain, making sure the safety of workers. Mini step platforms are perfect for cable trays and low lying pipework. Once installed, the Kee Walk step provides safe access and demarcation of permitted walking routes.

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Modular Work Platforms

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They are created with functionality in mind. These mobile platforms are easy to install and remove and may be moved from site to site. All systems can be easily adjusted without shimmying. Most of the platforms may be folded down for easy storage, and they may be moved from place to place with the use of wheels designed for safety in use.

Best Work Platform

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#Best Work Platform

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bandtrees · 4 years

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📂 for Outlast (The Murkoff Account content included)? ^^

yeess thank you! send for a random yet completely useless headcanon i have!

much to the chagrin of alice and pauline, paul is very big on cheesy 80s pop music. do not pass this man the aux

alice is very tall for her age, like, around pauline’s height. paul is very short and pauline constantly jokes that she’s not actually his daughter

trager has no sense of empathy for anything except this little cactus he keeps on his desk that he will have you put into the engine for touching

paul has adhd and it was never really diagnosed as he grew up, it’s kind of an unspoken truth by everyone around him and they just sort of assume he knows too. he doesn’t

chris wasn’t lucid during the murders he committed and, as far as he knows, was put into mount massive as a safety measure since people at spindletop kept dying. which is... technically true

pauline is very wealthy bc of her work with murkoff and lives in a very lavish huge house all for herself, just as a fun contrast to paul funneling all of his money into alice’s treatment

in some golden au where he reunites with alice, paul and her learn to cope with their sudden injuries (her missing finger, his missing eye) together. it’s put a pretty firm nail in alice’s want to be an artist, while paul hates how he seems to be patronized for being half-blind (will insist he can walk down a set of stairs fine w/o the railing and proceed to fall anyway) and in general makes both of them miserable but at least they have eachother yknow?

aaand some self-indulgent ones based on my fic wine red:

pauline tried very hard to keep working after her injury w/ trager, but just couldn’t move her arm properly w/ the nerve damage he gave her and was eventually demoted. the only thing keeping her from being fired altogether was how murkoff knew she was pretty much the ideal employee - cold, ruthless, and doesn’t let being mangled for life stop her

and the plot of a sequel one-shot i thought about making but never did: jeremy once brought her down to the sub-levels of mount massive upon seeing how her trauma affected her work performance (read: having to be in the hospital and unable to work after having her arm flayed) and brought her to meet variant!trager as a ‘test’ to see if she could stand to be face to face with him, determining if she could still work or not. she couldn’t, and this is what led to her demotion. cruel, but not out of character for murkoff...

thank you for the ask!!! :D

#babbles #ask memes #shade tag #outlast #the murkoff account #wine red

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thatsnicebutimmarried · 4 years

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Highlights from our last couple DnD Sessions

“Did my bagpipes survive the fall?”

“So Ashe, they have kind of ensnared you with their tentacles--” “OH NO!” “Wait, wait--” “I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING!” “Okay, not like that, uh, they’ve grabbed? you with their tentacles? Above the waist! Above the waist!”

“Okay, so I’m gonna kinda pull Bozrahl to the side and mention that maybe we should do something about our prisoners, you know, maybe we should tie them up or something--” “Really? The earth just opened up and swallowed us all up into a cave and you’re worried about US? I only got arrested for being annoying, I shouldn’t be your highest priority right now.”

“Maybe I could tie him up, I’ve got plenty of rope.” “God, you really wanna tie someone up.”

“Alvyn’s got Sleep, right? Can we knock him out and take him with us?” “You wanna kidnap the Kobold??” “No! I wanna rescue the Kobold and take him with us, but we can’t communicate with him right now, so we knock him out and take him with us until we can find someone who can speak his language!”

“There’s nothing else in this room.” “Can I just look around some more? Maybe take a kitchen knife?” “Can I try to coax him to come with us with music?” “Megan, oh my god.” “Someone is keeping him as a slave, I want to free him!” “*sigh* I make sure everyone goes out the door and up the stairs and leaves the room.” “So just giant Bozrahl shepherding a bunch of kindergarteners and a grumpy half-elf.”

“You recognize these creatures in this room as hob-goblins.” “What language do they speak?” “WAR. Roll for initiative!”

“Bozrahl, you were at the back of the party, so when you barrel forward to attack you just kind of, knock all these children out of the way.” “He just bowls down toddlers.”

“I’m gonna use Shatter here in a minute, so nobody go running into the fray so I don’t worry that about accidentally killing you.”

“So I’m basically going to ventriliquist-style throw my bagpipes music across the room so Shatter goes off and hits however many hobgoblins are in range.”

“You all hear the sound of bagpipes music, but it sounds sort of distorted, and across the room you see one hobgoblin’s head just explode, and another one near him looks horrified and shaken, but still standing.” “How near am I to the hobgoblin that exploded? Bree is very particular about her hair, and I wanna make sure I didn’t get hobgoblin guts in hair.” “Don’t worry, you’re far enough back that you aren’t in the brains splash zone.”

“Wow, so Bree, that dagger to the foot is actually gonna do enough damage to finish that one off.” “HAHAHA!” “What did you DO to his foot?” “So I kind of stabbed his foot like, close to the ankle, and just carved my dagger down to his toes, just seppuku his whole foot.” “You committed suicide on his foot?” “I think you meant a different word there, Carly.”

“I’m doing the same thing as before, I am just starting at the ankle and just disemating his foot.” “Dang, Carly, you got like a foot fetish going on over there?” “And last week she really wanted to tie someone up. Bree is a horny lil thing, isn’t she?” “Hey, what did I say about making fun of my height?” “You’re a halfling, you’re little by definition!”

“And I rolled a 1.” “Okay, so, well, you don’t even really wanna be here, so maybe that’s why you lift your hand up to cast fire and just like a little puff of smoke comes out. Just, beginner’s anxiety, you know.”

“I rolled a 3.” “I mean, Maevish is just really new to all of this--” “She’s a reluctant adventurer.” “She is, so it’s, no one can really blame you when you just create a little puff of smoke again.”

“A nat 20, and that is gonna be enough damage to kill him, so how you wanna do this?” “I’m thinking a Darth Maul situation, where I just slice him in half.”

“Alvyn, you’re up.” “Okay, well, I don’t like how big this guy is. I want to cut him down to size. So I’m going to cast Enlarge/Reduce, obviously focusing on the Reduce part of that.” “...he shrinks down to the height of about all of our shorter party members.” “How about you pick on someone your own size! By which I mean you are now the size of the people you’re trying to pick on!”

“I’m going to use Vicious Mockery, and of course I am going to mercilessly mock how tiny he is.” “He’s not tiny though, he’s small.” (DnD size catagory joke) “Would you-YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.” “What’s the damage on that?” “...2. Look I only roll 1d4!” “Okay so he’s hurt by your mockery but not by much.”

“Did my shrinking him actually help that much?” “No, not really. Neither did trying to put him to sleep.” “I’m starting to think I maybe didn’t give myself enough combat-useful spells.” “*me, sitting beside him and staring at his character sheet* YOU THINK???”

“Speaking of spells I hope next week starts with a short rest or something because that was a lot of combat and I am almost completely out of spell slots.” “Do you have any left?” “Aside from my cantrips I have one second level spell slot left. Hey, can I like rummage through the dead hobgoblin’s stuff to see if anyone has a crossbow? Like I really really want a hand crossbow.”

#DnD #there were many cursed dice this week #but we prevailed regardless

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deannesen · 4 years

Text

Storm Before The Calm

This love between us gives me power. Po-wer, po-wer, po-wer!

The muted song played on a tiny screen hidden under a desk. Sakura's fingers hit the buttons on her Versa handheld in a rapid fire. Her instincts matched every button to every beat. She could her the chime of each synchronized note in her head. Meanwhile, her ears pricked up on the words Ms Limon spouted out.

"That's the end of this chapter, The Fourth Spirit Burst. That will be all today. Remember to take care as you head home."

Sakura hit the last note, relieved another school day was over. Her body was wrecked with boredom and fatigue. She watched her classmates flow out of the classroom as she stuffed her Versa between the books in her schoolbag. Their chatter was white noise to her ears. She paid no attention to it. She only heard her own thoughts running down a list of what to do once she got home. New episodes of game shows, another comic update, and a whole new area to explore in her favourite RPG. Her best friend Angie stretched beside her.

"All the notes I had to take for you," she whined. "You owe me, Sakura."

"No way, it's totally fair."

Her fingers dog-eared a page out of the manga resting on her lap before slipping it back into her bag. She zipped it closed and sat back with Angie. "You were gone last week and I had to take your notes. It was awful."

"I was sick that time!"

Angie's cheeks flamed. Her exaggerated pout and furrowed eyebrows made her laugh. It reminded her of a furious chipmunk.

"I remember. I'm sure your flu made it hard to play Dancing Rave 6000."

The tiny girl opened her mouth to defend, but it closed back in defeat. Sakura knew her too well. She held back a snort and Angie hit her shoulder.

"Biiiiitch."

"Dumbass."

They laughed in unison. Sakura then helped her pack up so they could go back together. Cramming books into Angie's tiny pink satchel was a two person task. Angie arranged her books and papers neatly against each other. She waved a stack of notes in front of her face before slipping it into the bag.

"Look, Ms Limon went on and on about this unit. You'd think it happened to her yesterday with all things she said."

Sakura thought about it, resting her head on her arm. Her gaze lingered on the view outside the window. Dark clouds clumped in the sky. A rumble threatened her ears. It hadn't rained for weeks, and now it seemed a storm would come. The spirits were undoubtedly in tune with them. Her skin prickled with cold.

"You know what they say, spirit bursts are like rainy days. We might as well prepare for when it will happen again," she mused. "Still...it could be days or centuries for the next one. We just have to wait and see."

Angie blew a raspberry. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. "I know that. I won't lie, I think it would be kind of cool to have something shake things up. I'm tired of the same old, day in, day out," she chuckled bitterly. "With our luck, it'll happen once we're old and wrinkly."

"Yeah, I get it," she mused quietly. "Still, we probably shouldn't wish for things we don't really know about."

"Are you kidding? With all the studying we've done, I think we can qualify as spirits."

They shared a giggle at that. Then came the unmistakable sound of hard objects hitting the roof above them. First it was one clunk after another, but it soon devolved into a flurry. A commotion erupted outside. Angie shot her a frazzled look. Sakura snapped her gaze back to the window. It was raining white.

They grabbed their bags and rushed outside. A stream of students flowed to see what was going on. Sakura saw Yukika's white bob of hair right at the edge of a pillar. She was still, with her hand out to inspect the falling specks. They elbowed their way around and made it to her.

"What the frick-a-dick is happening?" asked Angie. Yukika held her hand out to them. Small icy orbs nestled in her palm.

"Hail."

"Damn," said Sakura. She leaned forward to take a closer look. They were big for such an unexpected onslaught. She poked one of them and her skin hissed at the near-frostbite. She swept them off Yukika’s hand to let them fall to the ground. "Who would have thought. How are we gonna get home?"

Yukika took out an umbrella that was in her bag's pocket. She opened it up and it fluttered open to barely cover one head. She held the umbrella out to check. The hail bounced off upon contact. They looked at her blankly.

"I'll call my dad," said Angie. "Hopefully he pick us up soon."

"Good idea."

They went down the stairs. The sea of students made it hard to keep their balance while moving around. Angie and Sakura managed to squeeze through tiny spaces, however Yukika had a harder time slipping through. The good thing was that she could shove people away very easily. Sakura heard speculations and whispers of why a hailstorm was happening in the middle of April. The anxiety was making it harder to keep steady. She nearly slipped a few times on melted hail that people dropped.

She didn't have the faintest idea. Angie would have said it was a perfectly scientific reason, but the energy in the air told her otherwise. It might have been unstable winter spirits lurking in springtime. Or perhaps cloud spirits holding onto the cold. Why, she couldn't guess.

They managed to make it to the back gate with only dirty stares in return. Sakura leaned against the wall. Her heartbeat thrummed along with the hail. It sounded as if it had slowed after the initial flurry. The hail falling was now smaller than what Yukika showed them. Hopefully it meant that the journey home wouldn't be as much of a spectacle.

Angie tapped away at her phone. She held it up to her ear.

"Hey dad. Can you pick us up? Yeah, it just started raining hail - I know right? Wait, Mr Oman said what? That's so typical of him-"

Sakura tuned Angie out as she started to gossip with her dad. The anxiety in the air made her heart clench. She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. Thump, thump thump, thump. Yukika put her hand on her shoulder. It was cool to the touch.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah," replied Sakura. A breeze blew past her ear. She caught a whisper of fear. Her forehead warmed up. A malicious smile glinted in her mind. She steeled herself and opened her eyes. Yukika looked troubled. Angie walked towards them, slipping her phone in her pocket.

"He should be here soon. Sound good?"

She nodded. They sat down at a bench to wait, watching the hail slowly cease falling. Sakura did her mathematics homework in the meantime, letting numbers blur her thoughts. Graphite clashed on the thin sheets. She never liked the defined numbers and answers laid out for her. It was so stiffening, so rigid. Her brain was boxed in with the formulas circling inside. The numbers dancing on the paper nearly lulled to her sleep with the cold gale.

What's the total surface area of the dome? Perimeter x height x slant height... wait, no.. dome... circular.... sphere... dome.. not pyramid... dome.... dome...

In a sleepy haze, the equations floated around her consciousness. Her pencil lined down the page again and again, barely keeping her awake. She was only on question number three. She couldn't sleep yet.

Hmm, dome, dome...

Don't.

Dome.....

Don't. Don't.

DON'T GIVE IN. THEY'RE COMING.

"Sakura."

A hand clamped down onto her shoulder. She jolted back awake. Yukika was looking at her. She was standing up with her schoolbag hanging off her elbow. There was an ambiguous look in her eyes. Her foggy mind could hardly register her.

"Come on, let's go home."

She stood up, rubbing her eyes. A yawn stretched her mouth. She rubbed her eyes again. How long had it been? Angie was nowhere to be seen. She looked up at the grey sky. There was no more hail falling, but the cold air was biting her skin.

"I'll take your bag, you're still tired," Yukika decided. She shook her head, but Yukika was already walking ahead of her to the gate. She sighed and followed.

The door of the car awaiting them was wide open. A blast of warm air greeted her as she saddled up next to Angie, who was already preoccupied with texting her virtual boyfriend. Yukika closed the car door and the car lurched off. Her dad smiled at them in the rear view mirror. He passed a lot of his traits onto his daughter, skinny with an oval face and slant eyes.

"Thanks for picking us up, Dad," said Angie without looking up from her phone.

"No problem kiddos," he said. "Scary that a hailstorm happened out of nowhere, are you all alright?"

They all nodded. She leaned back in her seat. It was weird being in the middle, strapping on the seat belt. Yukika looked outside the window. Angie leaned on her shoulder. She looked down at her feet. Her ears picked up on interesting words bouncing off the radio.

Reports say that an increase of spirit disturbances have occurred nationwide. Citizens are advised to check the spirit forecasts and leave weekly offerings to their local shrines. The Spiritual Union of the Nation -

Angie's dad changed the station a few times and settled on one playing a mindless pop song. The words slurred together after she figured it wasn't one she liked. She took out her Versa. She tapped at a notification that popped up.

DEFCON ZERO

The page was a black screen with her sign-in details in pale green text. A slashed white eye stood as a logo above it. She tapped to sign in.

User : TinyThunder / Server : 03 - Creation

When your body is at your weakest, your spirit burns brightest.

Enter combat?

Stage 125. Recommended level : 70. Your level : 55. Proceed?

She looked at her setup of low leveled units. The map was a rough terrain with a gigantic boss. She could make it. Determination pulsed through her fingertips.

Yes.

Hlíf, the unit on the first defense line nearly died at the opening boss strike. She stood her ground, knowing the opening move was greater than its following attacks. The damage gave her enough power to unleash her ultimate move early on.

Unstoppable Shield!

She charged forward, knocking enemies down with her infallible shield. Her remaining strength was focused into running as far as she could. She coughed up blood onto her armor. In her final sprint, she crashed into the boss giant and fired her gun five times. An ally plane picked up her body before she fell.

The second defense line rose to tank the next hits. Blood Moon stood by as a medic, streaming enchanted blood to heal each wound. A mage team descended, breaking down the enemy defenses bit by bit.

Defenders blocked the line. Nimble melee soldiers dodged blows, swinging their weapons despite gashes where their defenses failed. The enemies fired heavy ammunition and cut with mighty swords. In their bloody fight, the defenses were close to falling. Seeing the opportunity, Rasputin rose his hands to the sky and unleashed his powers. Seeing the signal, a firework of skills illuminated the battlefield.

Death Dance.

Rasputin levitated above the ground. Icicles fired from his hands and planted themselves into the heart of the giant. It roared in pain. Every mage in his range felt their powers heighten. They directed their magic towards melting the remaining advancers. One by one, fighters fell, but not without taking several enemies with them. Rasputin encased the enemy in ice and delivered a final blow. It exploded, and he fell to the ground, surrounded by the dead army. The mages ended their assault, breathing heavily.

VICTORY.

She sighed in relief. Her muscles relaxed from being tightened with anxiety. The car was slowing down.

"Hell yeah."

"Nice work," said Angie. She gave her a teasing grin and punched her shoulder. "Wish I had Rasputin. You're lucky."

"Wasn't easy with you staring over my shoulder," she shrugged. The car stopped. She looked out and saw her familiar driveway with her mother's car gone. "Great timing."

Yukika opened the door and got out. The evening air was warm and inviting. Sakura breathed it all in. She stepped out of the car and waved to Angie's dad. Angie shut the door and waved as well.

"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Allende."

"You're welcome. Take care."

They drove off. Sakura watched the car disappear from the lane, the silver polish glinting in the waning sun. It was nice to have a different ride back home. She turned and saw Yukika staring at her phone. There was a frown on her face.

"Akira messaged me to come home."

She cocked her head to the side curiously.

"Will you be staying the night?"

Yukika tucked her phone into her pocket. She smiled to her. It was unnatural to see Yukika smile with that grimace still in her eyes.

"There's nothing she can do to stop me," she said, steel in her voice.

She believed Yukika's words. She didn't want to ask any more about it. There was always bitterness in her when her mother was involved. She held out her hand to take her schoolbag. Yukika gave it to her, but didn't give her own bag. She walked away, her back straight.

Sakura opened and closed the gate behind her. She arranged her shoes on the shoe rack before jiggling the doorknob and finding it unlocked. The door was opened.

She looked up and sighed as she saw their old babysitter, Cleeve, standing as tall as ever. She smiled down at her. Her warm green eyes were comforting to see. She ushered her in. Everything in the house was spick and span. Even her comfy cushions were angled against the couch. A delicious aroma of cauliflower rice wafted from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled.

"Sounds like you're hungry. Want an early dinner?" Cleeve offered.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Sakura said, rushing into the kitchen. Her socks almost made her slip on the tile floor. Cleeve caught her in her muscly arms and she chuckled sheepishly. Cleeve had bulked up since the last time they saw each other. "Oh, um, also, what are you doing here?"

Cleeve set the table. She placed down the nicest plates in the house and the shiniest forks and spoons. Sakura pulled out a chair. By the time she sat down, Cleeve had already spooned a hefty serving onto her plate.

"Your mother heard about what happened, so she called me to make sure you guys were okay."

She put down a cold glass of lemonade before sitting down opposite her. She had a small plate of rice and a glass of water. Sakura dug into the food, chewing quickly to speak again. Spices and tastes in her mouth danced as well as she remembered. Cleeve shook her head in amusement.

"She worries too much. News travels fast, huh?"

"That's a mother's job. But where's Yuki?"

"Her dearest mummykins called." Her spoon pointed next door. She forked another bite into her mouth. The rice was rapidly disappearing from her plate. Cleeve nodded in understanding. She wolfed down the rest of the plate while and washed it down with the lemonade. Cleeve nibbled down at her serving, seemingly thinking of something. "Great as always, Cleeve."

She slid back her chair. Her dishes were loaded into the dishwasher. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. She flicked the channels. There was a new show to catch, Replica. She heard the critics were raving about the young actress Reese Choi. She huffed. Talent was never equally distributed, it seems. She pressed 'record' so she wouldn't miss it.

Sakura rushed up to her bedroom. She shut her door with a satisfying thump. She took off her vest, tie and socks. Her bag was flung to the side. The light from her window was quickly fading away. She jumped onto her bed. The fluffy mattress embraced her tired body. A bout of sleepiness overcame her. It had been a tiring day. She could afford a nap.

#writing #beta reader #era:entropy

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jxckspxcer · 5 years

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★ POST-FINALE PROJECTS (XC-ERA HEADCANONS) ™

THIS IS NEAR MAIN VERSE JACK, FOR MOST PEOPLE.

INDEX. 1. Homesheddingsteading - The Warehouse McMansion - The Jackmobilehome (Name Pending) 2. New Bots and Defenses - SMARTbots (Prototypes) - The Delta Omega Gamma Squad (DOGS) 3. Personal Upgrades - Alpha Armor (Currently in Beta) - Extended Monkey Staff Usage

1. HOMESHEDDINGSTEADING.

In the year after seeing his best and worst possible futures, Jack is a mess of rage and fear. He is adamant to not lose his determination, but he fears what the future has to offer. In his new found fear though, Jack closes off from his usual friends and foes. He’s thrown himself into his own work, to distract him from the horrible things he saw. (And for many of his verses, he finds other ways to occupy his time, and to meet people he can’t imagine a future where he’s known them or hurt them, it helps ground him).

In his seclusion though, his parents grow weary. His mother finally gives him an ultimatum, in which he gives up his villainous efforts, or he lives on his own-- Apart from the family. Not abandoned, no, she ensures him that they will ever be ready to support him... Should he do they ask. So Jack has to leave, given the circumstances of his frustration and steadfast determination, he cursed them and left.

` THE WAREHOUSE MCMANSION

The only place to his name he could call home, that wasn’t owned by his parents, was a plot of land he used to store his machines, a large warehouse and a sizeable open space to dump whatever scrap he told himself he’d attend to later. Bought with money he made selling on weapons to criminals and villains, it would be first place he thought to call home, besides sleeping in one of his many vehicles-- the many of which were already stored there anyway, and would soon be joined by all of the work he was keeping in his parents basement.

It’s a multi-story warehouse. The first floor is set into concrete foundation, a wide open space interspersed with concrete pillars and stuffed to the brim with inventions. Stuffed to the brim in inventions both failed and works in progress. Half the space is rearranged, a corner soon dedicated to a basic kitchen, flanked by a semi-clear space fitted with screens stacked upon screens and the switchboards to access them-- His work space for programming and surveillance, as well as his movie hot-spot, a cushy couch with a comfy blanket not far off. There’s a single bathroom, nothing more than a rest-stop style toilet and sink, he had to install his own shower, and mostly keeps it to his Jackmobile (name pending).

Above the first floor is two floors of metal walkways, though nestled high above is a single, small office with large open windows. The office also leads out of the side of the warehouse, a sort-of fire escape down the back of the building, though it also has access to an adjacent rooftop.

Said adjacent rooftop is a sort of side-entrance and small shed-area, which holds the stairs leading to the bunker. The bunker is a large concrete compound that expands even a bit past the walls of the Warehouse proper. Many vehicles get lowered into this space, to rarely see the light of day again, through the large metal opening hatch in the center of Jacks warehouse, which when closed can be crossed like a floor, but is quite the falling hazard when open. The side with the steepest drop often raises a barrier to avoid such things, but the descending ramp could easily be tumbled down. But there haven’t been any accidents yet ! This part of the warehouse is lit by rows of florescent lights and is very creepy, Jack is kind of used to it but to most people, they would probably be very unsettled, with all the glassy eyes and restless machinery. Some things never got turned off properly down here... If one can brave it though, there is a door that leans down a long hall of conduits and generators, it’s very hot and painful and also terrifying to be in, if you’re not used to it, but if you can make it to the other end, there is a room which Jack has turned into a bedroom, which shares space with further surveillance equipment. The door is sealed with a heavy metal security door, as Jack needs the utmost security.

There is a small area in the back of the land that it opens up out of the ground from, in a long ladder formation. Much of the surrounding land could be comparable to a junkyard though, covered in scraps and collapsed machines and large towers shunting energy into Jacks warehouse. The whole area is surrounded by large metal fences, topped in barbed wire and signs advising NO ENTRY.

Of course, it takes him a few years to get everything running perfectly, at first solar panels were installed and a couch and a grill were all he had, it took him some trial and error to discover the room at the end of the maintenance tunnel even.

Jack has a kiddy pool out back for sure though, for hot days.

` THE JACKMOBILEHOME (NAME PENDING)

But Jack wasn’t just a stationary villain. A lot of his work involves ambitious subversive strategies, daring heists and generally meeting with people halfway across the world. He adventures, wanders, he can’t be expected to stay in the warehouse always ! But he doesn’t have access to the family estates anymore, barely a week stay in the pent houses if he asks nicely.

So he travels in luxury. Or the nearest to luxury he can appreciate on a functional level. He’s made a home he can travel land, air or sea with, looking like a hulking black armored vehicle to the unsuspecting eye, it changes colors to look as inconspicuous as a moving truck should he need to leave it in public eye.

Its bulk is particularly due to his transformative nature, as a third of his width is dedicated to tightly concealed propulsion technology (adaptable for flight or underwater travel), and at least a fifth of its height dedicated to a concealed canon because oh, Jack liked things to go boom.

Inside the vehicle is spacious for the space available, with the basics in amenities. A kitchen, fridge and sink; A separated bathroom with a energy-producing septic tank; A separate, curtain-contained bedroom which is really just to say, a bed with a curtain around it; A table to eat at and one wall-inlaid screen which works as both a touch screen computer and television. Part of the wall above the dining table is see-through, though only from Jacks side, tinted whatever color the vehicle is for the time being. The front seats are two plush red leather seats, set in pilot & co-pilot fashion, though much of the controls can be AI-automated.

Jack has been meaning to paint the side of it with something awesome, but he needs it to change with the wings, so it’ll take some thinking... When he has the time or energy.

2. NEW BOTS AND DEFENSES.

` SMARTbots (PROTOTYPES)

Jack grows tired of repairs, so in his spare time tries to invent new classes of self-repairing and auto-assembling machinery. Automation that is attracted to itself, that reconnects however is functional, that can adapt to surroundings and combatants. Jack considers them the ultimate machine, but much of it is prototype work currently. But he thrills in each step closer to perfection.

` DELTA OMEGA GAMMA SQUAD (DOGS)

Jack lives by the aesthetic just because he can, so to protect his land when he’s away, he’s got a multitude of obscure security systems. Hidden weapons systems (nonlethal, but dangerous) and defense protocols for his base. But tripping the alarms to the base by entering the property will immediately alert the DOG Squad.

Jack is evil, but he doesn’t want to put REAL dogs in danger, you see ? Plus, real dogs can’t take enough or deal enough damage for his tastes, knowing what sort of villainy lurks in the world. So while vicious blood hounds on the surface, the DOG Squad is 100% killing machine, with only incidental mans-best-friend programming. They’re coated in a soft velvety fur, but their fangs are undeniably razor steel, their eyes burning red lights in the darkness. There teeth not only exude over 2000 newtons of force, they’re also hooked up to their backup battery, which means they can and will break your arm and then taze you.

3. PERSONAL UPGRADES.

` ALPHA ARMOR (CURRENTLY IN BETA)

Jack was inspired by his future self, partially, though he couldn’t grasp the direct blueprints from the slivers of paradox memories that kept in his mind (his mind couldn’t hold onto three different timelines worth of memories). So Jack is working through the trial and error of making himself armor. While Jack already wears body armor for protection and an air-filtration mask for flying, the Alpha Armor is different.

The armor should: Increase his durability in battle, while being flexible and personalized. He aims for it to respond to his body, rather than external commands, in the future, but currently he relies on buttons inside the armor to activate certain features.

It comes with gauntlets which electrify quite violently, for electric punches and general tazing of people who get too close. Jack would like to make the armor increase strength, but at most, it can simply allow Jack to exude more force than usual, due to not having to fear injury from durability. But if you hold him down.... You’ve got him. (If he doesn’t taze you).

` EXTENDED MONKEY STAFF USAGE

Jack recognizes that extended use of the monkey staff has left him stained with the magic monkey DNA. Currently, his teeth stay sharp, his cheeks scruffy and his reflexes keener, but he finds that with the monkey staff he can be highly productive in terms of energy. He might use it to avoid sleeping sometimes.

#xiaolin showdown #jack spicer #broken bone mentions/#hc.#notes.#v. addicted to the wicked #long post//#[rebloggable]#[because??? if fans want... i like these hcs... im v proud of my post!xs jack]

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gothchic6 · 5 years

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Silver’s Skater Girl Chapter 17: The Golden Adventure Part 2: Dusk’s Revenge

While all of this drama has been going on, I've hardly had anytime for the Egg that Professor Elm has me carrying. I take it out of my backpack, the red and blue pattern distinct. I rub my hand over it, and it shakes a bit! I'm happy to see it's still doing okay. I put it back in my bag, and make sure to secure it from possible damage.

Spirit, Dusk and I go to leave the Pokémon Center, when all of a sudden, my PokéGear starts ringing again. I grab it to see who's calling, and I'm pleasantly surprised to see JC's number. I answer it almost immediately while stopping to sit at the booth again.

"Hey Calypso! It's JC! I haven't talked to you in a day or two, and JP left me a crazy voicemail saying a bunch of stuff happened with your Gran or something? I couldn't really tell what exactly she was saying in the message, so I was hoping you could clear some stuff up. And tell me how your journey is going," JC exclaims in a flurry of excitement.

"I have so much to tell you, JC," I say as I look at the clock again. 7:20pm. I have ten minutes to talk, so why not tell her everything?

"Okay, so the last time you called me, I was in Azalea Town about to go kick Team Rocket out of Slowpoke Well. Since then in the last two days, I beat all the Rocket Grunts, punched Team Rocket Executive Proton in the face, won against Azalea Gym Leader Bugsy, made friends with Kurt and his granddaughter, Maizie, travelled Ilex Forest, befriended a girl named Lyra, found out Gran was accused of domestic abuse, explored Goldenrod City, and saw and barely escaped from Gran on the sixth floor of the Goldenrod Department Store.

The Goldenrod Police found and arrested her at the Goldenrod Game Corner, playing Voltorb Flip earlier today. Now, about five minutes ago, JP called me and told me that someone paid Gran's 75,000 bail. So I have a fight to pick with whoever paid her bail. I'm pissed, JC."

It takes JC a few seconds to process all of this information, but she sputters out, "Well, I'd be too. JP and the Goldenrod City Police did their part to get a violent criminal off the streets, and someone goes and posts her bail? That is just pure evil."

"Yeah, so I have to watch out for her again, and I'm not happy. Also, I found out some interesting information," I reply, grabbing her interest.

"And what information would that be," She questions curiously.

"Okay, so Monica is actually a Gym Trainer at the Goldenrod City Gym. She tattled to the Gym Leader, Whitney, about me stealing Dusk, formerly, 'Jessica.' So Whitney banned me from challenging her Gym.

Later, I found out that Whitney is hosting a birthday party for Monica tonight in the Gym at 8pm. So I'm going to go crash Monica's birthday when we get off the phone," I relay to her.

I can hear JC trying to stifle some giggles, but she's not doing a very good job at it. "Hey, you let me know how that goes, okay? That sounds like so much fun right now."

"I'm hoping for it to be a success," I say determinedly, "Besides, I need that Goldenrod Gym Badge, and I'm not letting Monica get in my way. Anything new going on with you?"

"Yeah, kind of," JC starts out, "You know how I thought that JP wouldn't stop by my Pokémon Center as often after the whole incident three days ago?"

"Yeah, I thought she backed off? What's going on," I ask concernedly.

"Oh, don't worry, she's not being mean to me or anything like she was," JC assures me, "It's just the opposite, really. She comes at least twice a day to check up on me now even though Jenny Anne is actually the one assigned to Route 32.

I always catch her staring at me weirdly whenever she comes in to heal her Pokémon. Sometimes, if she's in a good mood, she'll bring me food from Violet City.

And she's always complimenting something about me! Yesterday, it was how my hair was in perfect loops, and today was how I healed her Aipom, Pomskey, 'awesomely.'"

My eyebrow twitches at this interesting development. "That is weird," I comment, "She's been sounding normal on the phone lately, and I haven't noticed anything weird about her. Maybe she just wants to be a good friend in order to make up for your guys' past. Unless she like-likes you. I don't know if you swing that way, but it's a possibility."

"...I've never really thought about it before, to be honest. I spent all of my childhood and adolescence studying for my Officer and Nurse positions that I never really had the time for romance," JC says awkwardly.

"Hey, don't feel bad," I comfort her, "I recently developed my first crush, and I'm seventeen. We don't all figure out things in our lives at the same rate."

"Thanks, Calypso," JC says quietly after a brief moment, "Is your first crush that Silver guy with the red hair?"

"…Shut up, JC," I say monotone.

"I knew it! I don't blame you, he's handsome in a menacing kind of way. But anyway, what should I do about JP, Calypso? The whole situation is so confusing."

"Well, I suppose you have to figure out two things," I speculate, "One, figure out whether JP is acting super nice because she wants to be your friend, or if she likes you romantically. Two, if she likes you romantically, you have to figure out if you are in a position to reciprocate her feelings back."

"Ugh, Calypso, you're right. I've got to figure this out," JC groans. "Oh, wait, Calypso! JP is calling me right now! I'll call you later, okay? I'll let know what happens either later tonight, or in the morning. Bye!"

"Bye," I say just as quickly before hanging up the phone.

Spirit and Dusk have been talking among themselves while patiently waiting for me to get off the phone. Spirit resumes her place on my left shoulder, while Dusk floats on my right side.

"So much drama, so little time, you guys," I comment as we finally leave the Pokémon at 7:30pm.

It's late enough that the street lights of Goldenrod are shining bright golden yellow to illuminate the city. I ride the loaner board all the way north up to the Gym.

We hide underneath the Magnet Train Track above us while surveying the entrance of the Gym.

First, we see just one Beauty guarding the Gym. After about two minutes, a small group of Beauties and Lasses come strolling up to the entrance. The original Beauty chats with them amicably before they all file into the Gym, one by one. I'm guessing that Whitney and Monica are already inside considering that I didn't see them.

The Gym doors close, and I can hear the Beauty locking the doors. That won't stop us, though.

We notice windows on either side of the front of the Gym. The one on our left is slightly cracked open.

"Hey, Spirit," I whisper, "Do you think you could fly up and open that window some more without being too loud? If you can do that, I think I can climb up the side of this fence so I can reach the window."

'I'll try,' Spirit says as she flies silently up to the window. She perches on the edge of the open window, nudging the bottom glass with her beak. After applying a tiny bit of pressure, the window opens enough to where I'm confident I can fit my body through it.

"Thanks, Spirit," I murmur up to her almost inaudibly. Sneakiness level up 100%!

Dusk floats up to where Spirit is waiting for me near the window. I get a footing on the concrete block fencing to my left, slowly standing up on it to try to reach the window. I wobble a few times due to my klutziness, but I manage to hold on. I stretch up to my full height of 5'7", and I get my right hand up on the metal ledge of the window. With all my strength, I swing myself back and forth until I hook one of my feet on the ledge, pulling myself up and through the window.

I do a somersault into the Gym from the window. I actually land on my feet for once.

The Gym itself is a multi-pink pattern with green ledges. It's also heavily decorated for Monica's Birthday Party, banners and streamers hanging almost everywhere.

The Gym Guru who is usually at the front of the Gym isn't here; I'm guessing he went home after the Gym closed. Just another person I don't have to sneak by.

There's a path up to the north of us. When we walk up a few feet, we notice a flight of stairs directly to the right of us, leading up on the ledges.

We decide to explore the north path first, but I find that it's a dead end. We go back to the stairs, walking up them, only to realize that a Beauty is hanging up streamers directly to left of us. I try to walk to the right quietly, but my curse strikes again. I trip and fall, causing the Beauty to hear the noise and come running over.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be in here! This is a private birthday party—Wait, you're that girl who stole Jessica! I'm afraid I'll have to kick you out, battle style," Beauty Victoria states confidently as she sends out the first of her three Pokémon, a Level 9 Sentret.

I send in Spirit, hoping to conserve Dusk's energy for a certain later battle. One of Spirit's Faint Attacks is all it takes to take her down. Beauty Victoria recalls her frustratedly.

Beauty Victoria sends in a Level 13 Sentret in her place. The Level 13 Sentret manages to get two minimal hits from her Fury Swipes, but ultimately gets steamrollered by Spirit's Faint Attack/Wing Attack combo.

Beauty Victoria's face is now red in anger. She recalls the Level 13, and then sends out her strongest Pokémon—you guessed it—a Level 16 Sentret.

She instructs this Sentret to use Defense Curl, hoping to heighten her Defense so Spirit can't knock her out instantly. Smart Move. But it won't work forever.

It takes 2 Faint Attacks and 3 Wing Attacks, but Spirit finally knocks her out after five turns of Defense Curl.

"Spirit grew to Level 19," the Pokédex announces.

Beauty Victoria grudgingly pays me 896 before allowing to continue past her. I heal Spirit with a Potion before we continue further.

We see another staircase further over to the right. We descend down it, leading to a hallway with trees on the left side, and the wall on the other. Further down, there's an opening to the left, and a hallway straight ahead.

We decide to go through the opening on the left, not realizing that we're putting ourselves in view of Beauty Samantha. Apparently, she was organizing Monica's gift table.

"Hey, you're that girl who stole Jessica from Monica! How dare you break in here and crash Monica's party," Beauty Samantha declares, sending out the first of two Pokémon, a Level 16 Meowth.

"Who wants to battle," I ask the two spooky Pokémon on my shoulders.

'I'll battle the Gym Trainers, and I'll leave Monica and Whitney to you and Dusk,' Spirit says as she flies forward to face the Meowth on the battlefield.

"Meowth, use your Fury Swipes," Beauty Samantha shouts.

"Spirit, dodge it and use your Wing Attack!"

Spirit soars up into the air, trying to dodge Meowth's Fury Swipes, but to our surprise, Meowth can leap really high. She gets one hit on Spirit for an eighth of her HP in damage.

Spirit immediately retaliates with her Wing Attack, cutting Meowth's HP down to a third.

"Spirit, finish this with Faint Attack!"

"Meowth, let's go! Use your Fake Out to stop it from attacking!"

Meowth's Fake Out hits first, the hit leaving Spirit with 3/4ths of her HP left. Unfortunately, she also flinches in response.

"Meowth, keep going at it! Use Bite to make her flinch again!"

"Spirit, dodge and use your Faint Attack!"

Spirit is faster than Meowth, disappearing into her cloud of darkness. Meowth keeps looking around, searching for Spirit, but she is too well hidden. Then, after a second of suspense, she strikes Meowth from behind.

Meowth faints from the unescapable attack. Beauty Samantha recalls her, before sending out a second Level 16 Meowth that's a twin of the first one.

'Let's get this over with,' Spirit comments as we start out with a Faint Attack.

"Meowth, use Growl!"

Meowth starts growling at Spirit aggressively, startling Spirit, and lowering her attack. Spirit stills hits Meowth with her Faint Attack, but it only reduces her HP by half.

"Meowth, use your Fury Swipes!"

"Spirit, dodge it, and use Wing Attack!"

Meowth goes in a frenzy, hitting Spirit 4 out of 5 times with her Fury Swipes. It reduces Spirit's HP to a little less than half.

Spirit still has enough strength to soar into the air, and plough into Meowth at high speed with her wings. It makes Meowth faint, to Beauty Samantha's dismay. She recalls Meowth, and pays me 896.

We realize that we can't get through to the left, so we pass Beauty Samantha on the right, going up a path and to the right. It leads us to a bigger hallway with a staircase on the left, where I see that the other path to the other hallway connects to it.

We walk up and to the left, finding another entrance to the area that was blocked off by Beauty Samantha. I look around, and see no one, so I heal Spirit with a Super Potion.

Spirit looks like she's tired, so I ask her if she wants to switch out. She accepts my offer for a nap, so I switch her out with Cyndi as my first Pokémon.

Cyndi and I sneak further down the hallway, where we see a Lass on our right, facing that direction. We go further down and to the right to avoid her, only to find another Lass guarding the other side.

Lass Carrie sees my sneak attempt, and comes to challenge me. She only has one Pokémon, a Level 17 Snubbull.

"Snubbull, we gotta take down this party crasher! Use Bite!"

"Cyndi, dodge it, and gain some speed with your Quick Attack!"

Cyndi dashes past Snubbull, who isn't able to keep up. Cyndi sprints in a circle around her, making her dizzy, before actually attacking. It reduces her HP by a third.

"Snubbull, don't let her take you down! Use Charm!"

Snubbull tries to Charm Cyndi, who succumbs to it, reducing her Attack two levels.

"Cyndi, don't sweat it! Use your Ember attack!"

Cyndi charges a fireball to blue, flinging it directly to Snubbull's face. It reduces her HP to almost none.

"Come on, Snubbull, you can do it! Use Lick!"

"Cyndi, take her out with your Headbutt!"

Cyndi and Snubbull charge each other, but Cyndi is faster. She head-butts Snubbull straight on the forehead, causing her to fly back and hit the wall, knocking her out instantly.

Lass Carrie recalls Snubbull whilst swearing under her breath. She pays me 272 in winnings.

We walk past her, and finally see the first glimpses of Whitney and Monica. They are joined by the other Lass that I snuck by earlier. They are standing around a large table with a multilayered cake in the middle. Whitney is about to cut the cake when we stumble upon the scene.

Dusk instantly puffs up in anger at seeing Monica again. I can't help but feel a little nauseous at seeing her again too. She's such a terrible person.

"See, Whitney, I told you this punk wannabe freak would try to crash my birthday party," Monica complains loudly to Whitney.

"Hey, you're the girl from the Radio Tower! I can't believe I didn't realize that it was you earlier! How dare you break into MY Gym and crash Monica's birthday party? I should call the Police Department to come pick you up, but I think I'll let Cathy escort you out instead," Whitney threatens.

Lass Cathy steps towards me, sending out the first of three Pokémon, a Level 15 Jigglypuff.

"Jigglypuff, use Defense Curl!"

"Cyndi, use Headbutt to make her flinch, and then use Flame Wheel!"

Jigglypuff curls up her body to raise her Defense by a level. Cyndi sends her flying with a Headbutt, but she's puffed herself up to the point where she's floating in the air. Cyndi turns her dashes into the start of a Flame Wheel, rolling towards Jigglypuff. However, when she makes contact, she bounces into Jigglypuff, causing both of them to bounce violently in opposite directions, causing damage to both parties.

Cyndi's HP reduces by a fifth, while Jigglypuff is a little bit worse for wear, losing a third of her HP in damage.

"Jigglypuff, use Disable on Quilava's Flame Wheel!"

Jigglypuff snaps her fingers, and Cyndi is unable to use her Flame Wheel attack.

"Cyndi, do what you did before and use Ember!"

"Jigglypuff, use Sing," Lass Cathy calls out as Cyndi blasts Jigglypuff with a small fireball.

The Ember hits Jigglypuff just as she starts singing her song. Cyndi starts getting drowsy, but her Ember ultimately knocks Jigglypuff out.

Lass Cathy recalls Jigglypuff, only to replace her with another one of the same level and gender. For some reason, Trainers at this Gym feel the need to train several of the same Pokémon.

Now that the previous Jigglypuff has been defeated, Cyndi can use her Flame Wheel again! Unfortunately, Cyndi has fallen asleep, to my annoyance. The last Jigglypuff barely got any song out. I call bullshit. Anyway…

"Jigglypuff, use Pound on the sleeping Quilava!"

"Come on, Cyndi, quit your snoozin! We need to do some bruisin'," I shout obnoxiously.

Monica, Whitney, and Cathy all groan at my terrible rhyme.

Cyndi is hit with both Jigglypuff's Pound and my terrible rhyme, and I honestly think the rhyme did more damage. The Pound decreases her HP by a tiny bit, but both of them instantly rouse her.

"Yay, Cyndi! My obnoxoius rhyme worked! Now use your Flame Wheel!"

Cyndi rolls into a flame-covered wheel, being so fast that Jigglypuff has no time to move even if Cathy issues a command.

Cyndi slams Jigglypuff into the nearest wall, almost flattening her. It's only due to her large amount of HP that she survives the hit with a tiny bit of HP left.

"Jigglypuff, I know you can do it! Use Pound again!"

"Cyndi, finish this with your Quick Attack!"

Cyndi's Quick Attack has first priority, and she throws Jigglypuff into the wall again, knocking her out.

"Come on, Cathy, don't lose to this freak," Monica shouts from the sideline.

"Shut the fuck up, Monica," I reply harshly.

"Make me, FREAK!"

Cathy doesn't respond to Monica or I's bickering, recalling her Jigglypuff, and once again replacing it with the last clone of itself.

"Jigglypuff, we gotta take Quilava down! Use Sing!"

"Cyndi, cover your ears!"

Jigglypuff starts singing again, and I immediately plug my ears because I know if I listen to her song, I'll fall asleep. Cyndi thankfully does the same thing.

Unfortunately for Monica and Whitney, they were too busy talking shit about me to notice that Jigglypuff used Sing, so they're both asleep now. Haha.

Jigglypuff's Song ends, and she notices everyone around her are either sleeping, or plugging their ears. Jigglypuff puffs up in anger, and takes apart the microphone she's holding to reveal a black marker.

To everyone's surprise, she proceeds to draw on Whitney and Monica's faces, mad that they fell asleep during her song.

"Jigglypuff, no, don't do that! You're supposed to do that to the enemy! Now use Pound!"

"Cyndi, dodge it and use Flame Wheel!"

Jigglypuff puts the rest of her anger to use in her Pound attack. To my astonishment, not only is she able to rush Cyndi, but she also hits her in the face, reducing her HP to 2/3rds. That is one angry, yet adorable, Jigglypuff.

But Cyndi refuses to let her get away with it. She comes barreling towards Jigglypuff in her Flame Wheel, knocking her into the wall again, reducing her HP to a fourth.

"Jigglypuff, use Disable again!"

"Cyndi, finish this off with your Headbutt!"

Jigglypuff snaps her fingers again, but it doesn't matter as Cyndi rushes her again, headbutting her in the forehead with enough force to make her faint.

"Jigglypuff, no," Lass Cathy cries out as she recalls her worryingly. While Monica and Whitney are still asleep, I heal Cyndi with a Potion and switch her out with Dusk as my first Pokémon.

"Whitney! Monica! Wake up! She beat me and I don't have any Revives!"

Cathy is able to wake up Whitney and Monica, who are still woozy from Jigglypuff's song.

Monica immediately looks at her reflection in the screen of her PokéGear. What she sees makes her scream.

"Waaah! I told you that this freak would ruin my birthday! Now I have this marker all over my face, ruining my makeup! You'll pay for this, you freak," Monica screams at me hysterically.

Whitney grabs Monica by the shoulder, and says soothingly, "Don't worry, Moni, I'll take care of her. As the Gym Leader of Goldenrod Gym, I promised you that I would protect your birthday party at all costs. And I'm fulfilling that promise."

Monica looks at her in disbelief, replying, "That's sweet, Whitney, but this freak has made things personal. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of getting to battle you until after I rip her limb from limb. Let me do my thing. I got this."

Whitney let's go of Monica's shoulder, allowing her to step forward to challenge me.

My eyebrows raise at her brazen threats. "Is that a threat or a promise, Moni?"

Monica's face instantly goes red at my use of her personal nickname. "You're not allowed to call me that. You're on now, you punk wannabe loser freak!"

The first Pokémon she sends out I recognize as an Level 15 Azurill.

Dusk floats from my shoulder to face Monica and Azurill.

"Jessica! My sweet baby, why are you working for the enemy? Come back to mommy right now!"

"Her name isn't Jessica," I growl menacingly, "Her name is DUSK!"

'Yeah,' Dusk yells at her.

"I can't believe you! You brainwashed Jessica into thinking I'm the bad guy here!"

Her total lack of responsibility infuriates me.

"You ARE the bad guy here, Monica! You verbally abused a Pokémon Center Nurse, cried about it to the manager, and made it look like you were the victim!

Not only that, but you totally don't know how to take care of Dusk! You insulted her because she played tricks on you guys all the time, but I bet none of you know that Misdreavus feed off of fear!

So don't claim to care about a Pokémon you had no interest about learning to care for, and that you verbally abused for two years! Just admit you don't care about her like you said, and cut the bullshit!"

Monica is speechless at my rant, and she glances between the matching stern expressions of Dusk and I. Seeing that we're both not backing down, she scowls sinisterly.

"So I see how it is. Well, then, 'Dusk' if you want to stay with this punk wannabe freak, then go. You don't belong here with me anyway. You don't fit the Gym's aesthetic, and you don't fit mine either."

Everyone in the room gasps dramatically. I guess Dusk and I are going to have wipe the floor clean with Monica. That's the only option I see right now.

"Come on, Dusk, let's wreck her!"

*Dusk's POV*

This tiny adorable Azurill is definitely a new addition to Monica's team, because I don't remember her. I feel bad for her, but she's exactly the type of Pokémon that Monica would want to train anyway. Hopefully, she'll take care of her as well as she takes care of her other Pokémon, Honey Bear.

"Sapphire, use your Charm!"

Sapphire's Charm makes my Attack stat go down. But it's a stupid move, because I can't even hit her with physical moves.

"Dusk, use your Confuse Ray," Calypso calls out to me. I oblige.

"Take this, bitches," I shout as I send out a Confusion Ray.

I confuse the Azurill with the ray, and she starts stumbling over in confusion. After a second of stumbling, she accidentally rolls onto her head, causing an eighth of damage to her HP.

"Sapphire, use your Bubble!"

"Dusk, use Psywave to pop the bubbles!"

Azurill blows a few little bubbles, so I, of course, start screaming to disrupt said bubbles. The Psywave is powerful enough that it destroys the bubbles before they can hit me. It's also powerful enough to reduce Azurill's HP by half.

Monica starts screaming, and calling Calypso and I freaks again. I hate her so much.

"Don't worry about her, Dusk! You got this! Use Spite!"

I yell a bunch of things at Monica that I've been holding back for a while. It reduces Azurill's PP for the move Bubble by 5. It also makes me feel extremely good to do so, even though she has no clue what I said. Calypso hears it, and starts laughing hysterically. Monica yells at Calypso for laughing at her before issuing another command,

"Sapphire, use Slam!"

Azurill charges at me, attempting to slam me, but these idiots clearly forgot that I'm a Ghost Type. She goes straight through me.

Calypso starts laughing at Monica's idiocy, and I can't help but giggle too.

"Dusk," Calypso says through the giggles, "Use Psywave again!"

I unleash another Psywave of hell from my mouth. It's even louder than the last one, and it instantly makes Azurill faint.

"Motherfucking bitch," Monica starts cursing while recalling Azurill, "You did not just make my little Sapphire faint! Well, Honey Bear will take care of you," She says as she sends out her last Pokémon, and my nemesis, Honey Bear. She appears to be at Level 16. Ha, I'm at Level 18. Loser.

I haven't rolled with Monica and her crew for a while so I don't know what kind of moves Honey Bear has learned. We'll see.

"Dusk, let's finish this," Calypso shouts to me. I can't help but agree with her.

"Oh, it's not over yet, freak! Honey Bear, use your Lick attack," Monica screeches.

"Dusk, dodge it, and use Confuse Ray!"

Honey Bear comes dashing towards me, her tongue outstretched. That's a super-effective move, so I fly as high up as possible, trying to avoid her.

Once I'm high up enough that she can't reach me, I send a Confuse Ray towards her. It almost misses its mark, but thankfully it hits her directly on the ear. She starts thrashing around in confusion. Her HP reduces by an eighth.

"Dusk, hit her with a Psywave and confuse her more!"

I hit Honey Bear with a sonic wave, reducing her HP to half.

"Come on, Honey Bear, let's go! Use Leer!"

Snapping out of her confusion, Honey Bear leers at me from the ground, lowering my Defense by one level.

Honey Bear has retreated further back, so I have to float down closer if I want to hit her with any attacks. There's also the problem of my lowered Defense. If she hits me with Lick, I know it won't be good. I wonder what Calypso's going to do…?

"Dusk, float closer and use Psywave again!"

"Honey Bear, use Lick! And make sure you get her this time!"

Honey Bear tries her hardest to jump up and Lick me, but as she does, I start screaming in her face, blowing her away with the Psywave. Her HP reduces to a fifth.

"Honey Bear, no! Grrr..." Monica growls exasperatedly, "Use Lick one more time!"

"Dusk, use Psywave! Whoever hits the other first is the winner!"

I float down to where Honey Bear is attempting to lick me one more time. When she's about 4ft (1.2 M) from me, I start screaming again, right in her face, about how much of a bitch she and Monica were to me.

I scream so loud that the Psywave sends her flying into the wall. After a few seconds, all of us see that Honey Bear isn't unable to battle.

Calypso looks to me, her mouth dropped wide open. "We did it, Dusk," she whisper-screams, "We motherfucking did it!"

*Calypso's POV*

"NOOO! How could this have happened to me on my birthday! WHY?!"

Monica starts crying hysterically while recalling Honey Bear, so Whitney goes to comfort her.

While Whitney's distracted, I take a few seconds to switch Dusk out with Cyndi for my battling Pokémon so Dusk can rest and watch the final battle by my shoulder.

Cyndi, Dusk and I walk up to where Monica and Whitney are sitting on the floor behind the cake table. Whitney's got her arms wrapped around a sobbing Monica, and when I approach them, Whitney glares at me.

"What do you want? You've already done enough damage here tonight. If you don't leave, I'll call the Goldenrod City Police Department!"

"First off, Monica didn't pay me. Second, if I'm not mistaken, you told Monica that you would 'take care of me' because I wrecked her birthday. I just wrecked Monica, and now you're not going to do anything about it? If you're anything like the Gym Leader you're supposed to be, I know you'll get up, and kick me out of your Gym, battle style! Either you kick me out, or I leave here with a Plain Badge!"

Whitney is stoic for a second before standing up and eyeing me sharply.

"You know what, you're right. Moni, I told you I'd take care of this, and I'm going to. Calypso Aspen Primrose, you are going to regret ever messing with any of us!"

To my surprise, Whitney only has two Pokémon on her team. The first she sends out is a Level 17 female Clefairy.

Cyndi goes to take her on. Whitney issues the first command,

"Clefairy, use Doubleslap!"

"Cyndi, dodge it, and use your Flame Wheel attack," I call out.

Cyndi out speeds Clefairy, hitting her with a Flame Wheel for half of her HP in damage.

Clefairy got covered in soot as a result of the Flame Wheel, and she is not happy. She runs up and hits Cyndi in the face with her Doubleslap 3 out of 5 times for a fifth of her HP in damage.

"Cyndi, use Headbutt to make Clefairy flinch!"

"Clefairy, use Metronome!

Clefairy starts waggling one of her fingers, while Cyndi charges her. Cyndi hits her with Headbutt, reducing her HP to almost none. Clefairy retaliates, her Metronome turning into Slash, and she reduces Cyndi's HP to a little under half.

"Clefairy, use Doubleslap," Whitney tries, but my next move makes it not matter,

"Cyndi, use your Quick Attack!"

Cyndi's Quick Attack hits first, making Clefairy faint instantly.

"Cyndi grew to Level 21," The Pokédex congratulates.

"H-hey! Just one left? But… I ain't losin, you hear?"

"We'll see about that," I say as I recall Cyndi for some rest. I send out Dusk in her place.

Whitney's last Pokémon is a Level 19 Miltank. The worst thing about Normal Type Pokémon is that they usually have an obscene amount of HP. I'm hoping that status problems might be able to help me with this battle.

"Miltank, use Rollout," Whitney starts the battle off.

"Dusk, dodge it and use Confuse Ray!"

Miltank rolls into an extremely fast wheel of muscle, bouncing around the room. Dusk tries to avoid it by flying upward, but Miltank is able to gain enough air bouncing to hit her. It reduces her HP by a third.

Despite being hit with an attack, Dusk is still able to accurately hit Miltank with her Confuse Ray. To our annoyance, Miltank pulls out a Lum Berry and eats it, eliminating her status problems. I growl frustratedly.

"Ha, you never expected that, did you," Whitney taunts me.

"That was a smart move, but it'll take more than that to trip us up," I reply back confidently.

"LOSE! FUCKING LOSE, YOU FREAK! GO WHITNEY," Monica starts screaming.

I want to tell Monica to shut the fuck up, but I hold my tongue and opt for, "Dusk, use Spite on Miltank's Rollout!"

Dusk reduces Miltank's PP for Rollout by 5, but it doesn't stop Whitney and Miltank from using it, however. Miltank hits Dusk with another round of Rollout, with more power this time, leaving her with an eighth of HP left.

"Come on, Dusk, you can do it! Use Confuse Ray one more time!"

Dusk sends another Confuse Ray to Miltank, who actually stays confused this time. She stumbles around, accidentally hitting her head against the wall in confusion for a fifth of her HP in damage.

"Come on, Miltank, you got this! Use Stomp!"

I start to laugh because Stomp is a Normal Type move, so it can't hit Dusk. But to my astonishment, it does! She faints from the impact.

"How did your Miltank use a Normal Type move on Dusk," I question as I sadly recall Dusk. She put up a good fight.

"Miltank has the ability, Scrappy! She can hit Ghost Type Pokémon with Normal and Fighting Type moves."

"GO WHITNEY! YOU AND MILTANK CAN DO THIS," Monica starts screaming again.

"Monica, shut the fuck up!"

It might be a risk, but I think I might let Forest have a go at it.

"Go, Forest, use your Poisonpowder!"

"Miltank, use Rollout again!"

Miltank almost flattens Forest, but he swiftly sidesteps her, throwing his Poisonpowder on her.

She starts losing HP due to the poison, reducing her HP to 3/4ths.

"Miltank, use Attract on Bellsprout," Whitney instructs her.

Miltank sends Forest a seductive look, and that's all it takes for him for him to be head over heels, infatuated.

"Forest, come on, use your Vine Whip attack!"

Forest is too immobilized by love to make any moves, to my frustration.

"Miltank, use your Stomp!"

Miltank runs up to Forest, stomping his lower body with her hoof, reducing his HP to a fourth.

"Forest, no! Are you okay?" He manages to get up, thankfully.

"Forest, stay strong! Use your Vine Whip!"

"Miltank, use Stomp to end it!"

"Dodge it, Forest!"

Forest is too in love with Miltank to make any moves. Miltank starts approaching to make the final blow. In my desperation, I shout out,

"Forest, don't do this! She doesn't actually love you! Use your Vine Whip!"

Forest finally snaps out of his infatuation, barely able to dodge Miltank's Stomp.

Forest is able to grab one of Miltank's legs with his vines. With all the strength, he can muster, Forest makes Miltank trip and fall on her face, reducing her HP to half. Then, another round of poison reduces it a couple more points.

"Miltank, take him out with your Rollout," Whitney continues the onslaught.

"Come on, Forest, you can dodge it!"

Forest tries his hardest to avoid Miltank's massive wheel of destruction, but she's too fast, and crashes into him. The hit sends him flying against the wall, making him faint.

"Oh, Forest, you did so well," I give him praise as I recall him back into his Poké Ball.

"You've already got two fainted Pokémon, and one of your other ones is injured! Why don't you just give up now," Whitney taunts me. I don't fall for it.

"YEAH, FREAK! GIVE UP SO I CAN FINALLY CELEBRATE MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY," Monica screeches in conjunction with Whitney's taunt.

I point to Monica, "First, I don't give a shit, so shut the fuck up," and then I turn to Whitney, "And you're one to talk. You only have two Pokémon, one of them is fainted, and the other has half it's health left, along with poison status. I'm not worried."

"We'll see about that! Send out your next Pokémon!"

I know that Cyndi is hurting with less than half HP, and Miltank's Rollout is super-effective against Spirit, so I decide to let Zellie have a shot. Her Sonicboom could come in handy.

"Zellie, use your Sonicboom!"

"Miltank, finish this before it starts with your Rollout!"

"Zellie, flip over it!"

Miltank comes speeding towards Zellie, who doesn't even blink at the faster Pokémon's wheel of destruction. Once Miltank comes within two feet of her, Zellie flips entirely over Miltank, and shoots a Sonicboom that stuns her. Miltank's HP goes to down less than a fourth. Then, the poison reduces it to almost nothing.

"Oh, poor me," Whitney cries out sarcastically, "Whatever shall I do? Oh, wait, I know! Miltank, use your Milk Drink!"

Miltank heals her HP to a little more than half. I grind my teeth in frustration, but I'm hoping that Zellie's Sonicboom will get the job done.

"Zellie, don't stop! Use Sonicboom as much as you can!"

Zellie starts spitting out continuous Sonicbooms, most of them missing the fast Miltank, but one of them hit for 20 points in HP damage. It reduces her HP to a fourth.

"Miltank, we can't tolerate this! Use Stomp to knock these intruders out of here!"

"Zellie, dodge it!"

Miltank goes to Stomp Zellie's face in, but the moment she goes to stomp down, Zellie zips out of the way.

"How is she doing that," Whitney calls out, "My Miltank is faster than her!"

"Faster, yes, but not more evasive. Besides, Zellie is more accurate with her attacks. And you're using physical moves while we're using special moves from a distance. That's why ours are more likely to hit."

Miltank's HP reduces to almost nothing from another turn with poison status.

"Miltank, come on, you got this! Use Milk Drink!"

"Zellie, stop her, and finish this with your Quick Attack!"

Zellie's Quick Attack has priority over Miltank's Milk Drink, and she knocks Miltank out before she's able to heal herself.

"Zellie grew to Level 13. Zellie grew to Level 14," The Pokédex announces.

"Ugh…," Whitney sighs as she recalls Miltank. Then, all of a sudden, she starts bawling, "Waaaaah! Waaaaah! ...Snivel… Hic. ….You meanie!"

"Umm, I literally just won a Pokémon battle against you in your own Gym. You owe me a Plain Badge," I say harshly.

Monica wraps her arms around a sobbing Whitney now, snarling, "You literally broke in here to ruin my birthday and you think Whitney is going to give you a Gym Badge? She doesn't owe you shit."

"Calypso, get lost! Get out of here before I call the Police Department," Whitney cries out childishly.

I start getting a little angry. "We had a deal. Either I lost and you kicked me out, or I won, and got a Plain Badge."

"Whitney, she did technically beat you in your Gym in Gym Operation Hours," I'm surprised to hear Cathy speak, "We did close early for Monica's Birthday Party, and by law, we were supposed to be open to receive Gym challengers. I'd just give her the Badge, Whitney."

"CATHY?! WHY ARE YOU STANDING UP FOR THIS FREAK," Monica screeches again.

Whitney growls, "If I give you this badge, will you get out and never come back? Also, you can never harass Monica again."

"Deal, but if Monica fucks with me again, the second part of the deal is invalid."

Monica looks like she's about to protest this, but Whitney gives her a silencing glance.

"Deal," Whitney says as she places a small square shaped golden badge in my hand.

"I guess you did beat me fair and square. Even if you broke in here to do it. But that doesn't mean I want you anywhere in my sight. If I ever catch you harassing any of my Gym Trainers again, I'll make sure you get creamed next time."

"Duly noted," I say as I walk past them, and slowly walk my way out of the Gym, a tired Zellie by my side.

"Boy, are you a trooper, Zellie. Thank you so much for toughing it out and finishing what Dusk started, and Forest continued," I congratulate her.

'No problem. I thought Miltank was gonna knock me out so many times, but you got us through it. I'm so happy I'm getting stronger!'

"Yeah, and you grew two levels from that battle," I continue, "I'm really proud of you, Zellie."

Zellie swishes her tails back and forth in happiness. I notice her start to tire as we finally get to the entrance of the Gym. I offer her to return to her Poké Ball so she can rest on the way home. She obliges.

I go to ride on the loaner board when Spirit surprises me by popping out of her Poké Ball, and perching on my shoulder.

"Hey, what's up, Spirit? You feeling okay from earlier?"

'I just wanted to tell you how well I think you did in there. You went in there, took charge, and didn't take no for an answer. You're becoming everything your Gran feared you'd be. But at least you're you.'

I can't help but smile at Spirit's compliment.

"Aww, thanks, Spirit. I think I just really wanted this for Dusk and for myself too. And the Team. You guys mean everything to me."

Spirit caws in contentedness, and we ride silently to the Pokémon Center.

I heal all of my Pokémon before Cyndi and I completely crash on the Pokémon Center booth. As we doze off, I can hear the ring of my PokéGear going off. But I'm too tired too answer it…

*Third Person POV* (An hour and a half ago)

"Hello, welcome to the Goldenrod City Jail, I'm Officer Jenny Marie. How can I help you today?"

"Yes, I've come to post the bail of an inmate in your facility," Poké Maniac Donald says as he walks closer to the front desk.

"Okay," Officer Jenny Marie says cheerfully, "Which inmate's bail did you want to post?"

"I want to post the bail of Ruth Marken."

"Okay, I'm looking up Ruth Marken in the system… Found her! Okay, so her bail is set for 75,000. Did you still want to post it?"

"Yes," Poké Maniac Donald confirms.

"Okay, so how did you want to pay for that? Cash, check, or credit?"

"It'll be cash," Poké Maniac Donald says as he pulls out the wad of cash that Monica gifted to him for this purpose.

"Okay, let me count this… Okay, this is indeed 75,000. Let me process this transaction, and I'll bring your inmate out to you shortly. I have to let you know however, that there are conditions of releasing her from incarceration. She has a restraining order put on her from her granddaughter, and she must not come within 100 yards of Calypso Aspen Primrose. If she does, she'll break her restraining order, and she'll be brought back here. Understand?"

"Yes," Poké Maniac confirms again.

"All right, we're done! I'll be right back with your inmate!"

After about a minute, Officer Jenny Marie comes back with a large disheveled woman following behind her. Incarceration doesn't look good on Ruth Marken.

"Here she is! Well, I hope you two have a great day! And keep out of trouble," Officer Jenny Marie says farewell while sitting back behind her desk again.

Ruth Marken stares at the random person who posted her bail. Hell, she should've been able to pay her own bail, but she lost thousands gambling and much more was stolen from her ungrateful bitch of a granddaughter.

Poké Maniac Donald beckons her to follow to him outside. They exit the Jail, Ruth easily being able to keep pace with Donald.

"Who are you? Or what are you? Some kind of Pokémon furry?"

Poké Maniac Donald blushes instantly at this question, replying furiously, "I am a man dedicated to Pokémon, Madam, and in order to know about Pokémon, I dress like a Pokémon. Anyway, you should be nicer to the person who just posted your bail."

"I don't even know you. Why did you pay massive amounts of money to post my bail," Ruth questions him.

"Oh, it's not just me. You, me, and another person all have one common enemy, my dear Ruth," Poké Maniac Donald says sinisterly.

Ruth matches her grin to Poké Maniac Donald's tone. "Let me guess, it's my lovely ungrateful bitch of a granddaughter, Calypso. She's always causing trouble."

"Yeah, she beat me in battle and gloated about to several people, and she stole the Pokémon of the person who paid to get you out of jail. If you want to help us, we want to take her down."

Ruth thinks about this for a few moments before replying, "You've got yourself a deal. Here, if you hold on to me, Fafnir can fly us to Cianwood City, where I live. We can plan things out there. Of course, it's a little messed up right now because lovely Calypso got into some trouble."

"Nah, I'd rather stay in Goldenrod if that all right with you. I live in one of the houses over by the Underpass Tunnel. We can plan from there."

"Humph... fine. Lead the way," Ruth says grumpily, while following Poké Maniac Donald down the Goldenrod Main Street. Officer Jenny Marie told them not to get into trouble, so they went searching for it.

#pokemontraineroc #pokemonfanfic #pokemonfanfiction #johtojourneys #heart gold soul silver #goldenrodcity goldenrodgym #gym leader whitney #clefairy #miltank #quilava #murkrow #misdreavus #bellsprout #buizel

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askthedespairkids · 6 years

Text

3rd Year Anniversary Bonus 79-C Report Cards

//I do have more stuff planned for this year’s anniversary but it’s gonna take more time to finish so I figured I would make this post in place just for fun. It’s nice to have these sort of things, I think since there are just so many OCs on the blog

//It will get updated as new OCs join or important information is uncovered.

Amaterasu Hokama - Ultimate Thief

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 11″

Birthday: April 20th

Likes: Shiny Things

Dislikes: Security Guards

Current Status: Alive

Amaterasu’s family was evicted from their home when she was young, her parents “homeschooling” her in order for her to avoid bullying. When her family were struggling for food, she would steal from stores in order for them to keep surviving. As she grew up, she found her love for the thrill of a heist growing. She would go on larger heists in rich homes and museums, but rather than keeping anything for herself, she would return it the next day. Like it was a simple game for her. Eventually, word got out about a girl that could potentially steal from anywhere she wanted to. An underground team of thieves then decided to recruit her in order to get help for their heists. At first she helped out to get some money for her family, but once they had enough money to get a home and had a stable income, Amaterasu reported all of the people in that team to the authorities. She was also sent to a juvenile center but managed to escape after a week. Though she is rarely ever seen, there are always reports of “an girl that acts like a wolf wandering around the city”.

Doi Kurohiko - Ultimate Romance Expert

Gender: Male

Height: 5′10″

Birthday: November 14th

Likes: Roses

Dislikes: Creepy People

Current Status: Alive

With a handsome face, and a talent like his, Doi is often mistaken as a player at first glance, however his actual personality is the complete opposite. He has awful luck when talking to women, which he calls “his heart’s curse” which causes unfortunate events to happen such as falling down stairs, ripping his pants, and many other occurrences. Despite his failures, he tries to remain optimistic even if he isn’t the most strong willed. His talent isn’t for show either- if you want to fix your relationship, Doi is the one to ask. With a tendency to go off on rants when nervous and a weakness for women, Doi is the walking Ultimate Contradiction.

Junpei Yokozawa - Ultimate Blogger

Gender: Male

Height: 5′2″

Birthday: April 16th

Likes: Co-op Games

Dislikes: Horror Movies

Current Status: Alive

The blogger of several semi-popular blogs that cover a variety of topics such as fandoms, political views, and even gossip, Junpei Yokozawa may be a blogger, but he’s a damn good one. Overshadowed by the rest of family having flashy talents, he’s never seen himself as being worth much in the world of Ultimates. However, his ability to manipulate internet culture is second-to-none despite his lack of presence in real life.

Karma Graves - Ultimate Secret Agent

Gender: Was thought to be intersex by certain staff, and female by peers and other staff. It has come to attention that Karma Graves is a parasitic twin with both male and female organs. Karma Graves says they identify simply as "Karma", and used they/them pronouns.

Height: 5'3"

Birthday: January 18th

Likes: Ukulele

Dislikes: The dark

Current Status: Alive

For the first 13 years of their life, Karma Graves was kept locked in a small basement by their biological father and were heavily abused. This caused some damage to their overall mental health and stability. Their only source of knowledge on the outside world was through movies from the 90s, resulting in Karma preferring to dress as colourful as possible, use the occasional 90's slang, and develop nostalgia for a generation they were never a part of. Karma was eventually rescued by a secret, organized agency which took them under their wing and trained them as one of their own. Though not being in training for very long, they showed natural skill and talent. They trained at the Canadian branch, but had short training sessions in Japan. The agency wasn't always the most moralistic and good, yet Karma dedicated their life to it. Karma had been invited to Hope's Peak Academy, but their superiors said they wold not be attending. This changed and Karma was sent to Hope's Peak after helping a prisoner of the agency, who they allegedly had a relationship with, escape. The prisoner was killed on sight. Karma tends to have violent tendencies and manic episodes, but their loyalty and love for their friends is overpowering.

Kobo Okanaya - Ultimate Tour Guide

Gender: Male

Height: 6′2″

Birthday: June 14th

Likes: Boxing

Dislikes: Fish

Other Affiliations: Starlight Tour Company

Current Status: Alive

Kobo became a tour guide while he was growing up in a deprived area of a port town. He was saved by the manager of a tour guide company during a street fight and to return the favour, he learned the craft of being a tour guide. At first, his rough personality made it hard for him to interact with tourists though over time, through teaching he adapted a “Work Personality” which utilises his non-rough appearance, even changing his mannerisms to seem like a more appealing tour guide. His knowledge of Japan’s streets and landmarks were noticed by Hope’s Peak after their scout had caught wind of a teen tour guide being able to put others to shame. Though despite his work personality, Kobo is always ready to get into a fight.

Maemi Watanabe - Ultimate Harem Mangaka

Gender: Female

Height: 5′6″

Birthday: July 8th

Likes: Cherry Blossoms

Dislikes: Being called a Fujoshi

Other Affiliations: HeartBeat Publishing

Current Status: Alive

Calm and level-headed, Maemi does not seem like the type to produce such critically acclaimed harem series. Always wishing to be a writer, but being unable to write long stories with one single couple, Maemi began writing harem manga as a way to let her creative muse run wild. She is the leader type and has a strong attitude which helps her keep control of situations where people may succumb to stress which helped her during ...-Missing Data-...She can also feel out of place in her class since she feels her backstory is not as tragic as the other members of her class. Her only true struggle being her bad luck with men. Suppressing tropes, and wishing to make harem manga more beloved by the public, her headstrong attitude is admired by all mangaka across all genres.

Mami Asano - Ultimate Living Doll

Gender: Female

Height: 5′6″

Birthday May 6th

Likes: Bugs

Dislikes: Chaos

Current Status: Alive

Mami Asano was a regular child, albeit living in luxury, up until the age of 6. It was then that her parents began having her undergo multitudes of surgeries done by underground doctors who would be willing to operate such procedures that would be traumatizing and illegal to do to a child. Mami's surgeries continued until her parents had felt she reached the epitome of artificial beauty: a living doll. Mami was trained to be obedient, submissive, and docile - never questioning her parents or making a decision for herself. She was homeschooled and taught things such as classical literature and music, dance, a number of instruments, high class manners, and other things. She is graceful and elegant. Mami was given severe restrictions on what she could eat, say, and do. She attended frequent public and private events - appearing at art shows or attending formal dances and galas. If she wasn't participating in the event like a regular attendant, she was on display either sitting or standing in a glass case perfectly still, or behind a rope in a large faux "dollhouse", going about and interacting with the environment while others watched, and even gave commands so as to "play" with her. Mami was invited to Hope's Peak and was reluctantly given permission to attend by her parents who believed that her attendance was one of the highest honours

Rina Kirishima - Ultimate Taxidermist

Gender: Female

Height: 5′1″

Birthday: August 1st

Likes: All kinds of tea

Dislikes: Her loved ones in distress

Current Status: Alive

Introduced to the craft of taxidermy by her grandmother, Rina demonstrated a real talent for it. Unfortunately, her talent and meek demeanour caused her to be bullied in middle school and this shattered her self-worth. Believing she was unworthy to be called by her real name, Rina began referring to herself with the acronym “RAM”, standing for “Rina’s Another Mistake” - “Another Mistake” being the nickname given to her by her bullies. With the help of Sakura Oogami at Hope’s Peak Academy, Rina was finally able to grow a love for herself. Not nearly as shy as she was, Rina consistently does her best to spread kindness to everyone she meets. Her loving heart is always open, and she’s not afraid to give out hugs and the occasional nose kiss. She shows a strong will when confronted with a problem, but will try to solve it with as much thoughtfulness as possible. Hardly will she get extremely angry, but a surefire way to make her mad is to threaten the wellbeing of her loved ones. She also takes her pinky-promises rather seriously, and would appreciate them not be broken.

Ryuu Nagata - Ultimate Lucky Student

Gender: Male

Height: 5′8″

Birthday: February 14th

Likes: Katsudon

Dislikes: Grapes

Current Status: Alive

The twin of Sora Nagata and the 79th class’ Ultimate Lucky student. Unlike other lucky students, Ryuu’s luck doesn’t affect him, but rather the people around him. The earliest sign of this was after he was born, his parents had won the lottery which took place the same week, though at the time they had no idea Ryuu was responsible. Originally a meek and shy boy, Ryuu has grown to become the leader of Future Foundation’s 2nd base, albeit not being confident in his abilities as the leader quite yet.

Sadao Irunami - Ultimate Hypnotist

Gender: Male

Height: 5′6″

Birthday: May 23rd

Likes: Pendulums

Dislikes: Blackouts

Other Affiliations: The Irunami Circus

Current Status: Resurrected

A playful prankster who was a former member of a travelling circus, Sadao learned all he knew from the ringmaster of the circus, his grandfather. He has an impulsive and child-like nature which many can find troublesome though he manages to have his moments of showing off his calculating and selfless side when he wishes to help his friends. When he was young, he no longer wished to be part of the circus and he ran away and became a street performer in Tokyo until Hope’s Peak Academy took notice and asked him to join 79-C.

Saori Kibe - Ultimate Paranormal Investigator

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 11″

Birthday: June 13

Likes: Conspiracies, the paranormal, and scene aesthetic

Dislikes: Non-believers

Current Status: Alive

Saori genuinely believes she was abducted by aliens and tested on as a toddler. Whether or not this actually happened is unknown. She believes this is why she’s able to interact with the paranormal how she does - and has since been seeking out all the paranormal things she can, helping people with their paranormal problems along the way. She would even travel to different countries and continents. Saori was let into Hope’s Peak as the Ultimate Paranormal Investigator. Saori is a trans girl preferring she/her pronouns, despite her school records saying her dead name and pronouns.

Sly ??? - Ultimate Assassin

Gender: Male

Height: 6’1”

Birthday: July 9th

Likes: Pancakes, Training, Naps

Dislikes: People questioning his abilities

Other Affiliations: ??? Assassin Agency

Current Status: Alive

Having lost both his father and mother, Sly has become the leader of the worlds biggest assassin agency at the age of 18. He has been killing since the young age of 4, making him an extremely experienced fighter. After losing his mother he threw himself into the family business quickly becoming one the top assassins in the business. He wears her dog tag around his neck at all times, which was given to him as a gift from his childhood friend and partner Maki Harukawa. It’s said that his eyes turn from their natural grey to a deep black when filled with rage earning him the name “The Demon Killer” across the Underworld.

Tomoe Hachi - Ultimate Illustionist

Gender: ??? (Goes by They/Them pronouns)

Height: 5’8”

Birthday: September 1st

Likes: Konpeito

Dislikes: Coffee

Current Status: Alive

Tomoe keeps their personal life a mystery. However, they have told people that they’ve simply practiced magic tricks and illusions since they were 4, and may have forgone eating or sleeping for it. They like to keep their mask and magician attire on to hide their physical appearance, except for their hair, which is black, curly and messy. They say that the mysterious aura helps them with their illusions.

Toson Shinko - Ultimate Horror Movie Director

Gender: Male

Height: 6′0″

Birthday: August 30th

Likes: Suspense

Dislikes: Unnecessary Gore

Other Affiliations: Shinko Movie Productions

Current Status: Deceased (As of The Big Bang Arc)

An award winning and genre changing director with a surplus of modern classics, Toson is the most influential director of modern times, even though his reasoning for becoming a director was not in any way inspirational. His father, Shouji Shinko, was a failed horror movie director, and not wishing to be associated with his failures, Toson decided he would create his own horror movies and make a name for himself, separate from his father. Arrogant about his achievements, Toson can be off-putting to people who aren’t used to his blunt words and rude mannerisms, however deep down he can’t stand being around conventionally attractive people as he falls in love easily, nor can he sit by when his friends are hurting.

Tsukiko Ishikawa - Ultimate Thanatologist

Gender: Female

Height: 5′4″

Birthday: August 15th

Likes: Body Farms

Dislikes: Processed Cheese

Current Status: Alive (Thinks of herself as undead)

As a thanatologist, Tsukiko is an expert in all things death: decomposition, rituals, funerals, etc. Similarly, she dresses appropriately in dark clothing. However, in sharp contrast, she's easily one of the most upbeat, cheerful one could meet. While she can come across as weird and creepy, she's really a nice girl. However, her most eccentric quality may be the fact that she believes she's already dead: she suffers from Cotard's Delusion, believing herself to be a walking corpse, even when others point out the inconsistencies in that fact.

Yuuki Kurosaki - Ultimate ??? (Claims of Ultimate Explorer and Ultimate Theorist)

Gender: Male

Height: 6′0″

Birthday: July 1st

Likes: Scrapbooks

Dislikes: Arrows

Current Status: Alive

Travelling from continent to continent, Yuuki Kurosaki is always searching for his next adventure. With credits for discovering hidden temples across the globe and recovering treasure, Yuuki is known among treasure hunters and explorers alike. He loves and values family over everything else, especially admiring his brother Taro. Though he also fears creating bonds with people after...-Data Missing-...occurred, though after he,...-Data Missing-... and two others...-Data Missing-... His personality became more unpredictable.

#Mod J #mod post #DR #anniversary post

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chicgeekgirl89 · 6 years

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Cruel, Cruel Summer: Chapter 5

Read chapters 1-4 here

There were two masked men in the stairwell, one with a semi-automatic weapon, the other with a Glock, both guns pointed straight at them. “Put the phone down Detective.”

Deeks slowly lowered it from his ear. He could still hear Eric calling for him as one of the men snatched it away and smashed it on the floor. “I’ll take yours too Agent,” the first one said, holding out a hand for Kensi’s phone.

She handed it over keeping Katrina behind her as she did so. “Whatever is going on here, you don’t need Katrina for it.”

“Well originally we didn’t, but thanks to this fun little mix up, we’re going to have to insist you all come with us. Quietly. Down the stairs.”

Kensi pushed Katrina in front of her and Deeks brought up the rear, very aware of the gun barrel that was level with his spine. This wasn’t as bad as last year’s vacation; it was so much worse. Apparently the hotel staff members weren’t the only ones confused about whose room was whose.

Katrina had gotten it wrong when she’d said they were looking for overdrives and passcodes. What they really wanted was the Overwatch passcodes. They were the only passcodes of any real value to someone outside of NCIS. Other systems required you to be physically at the Mission, but Overwatch was accessible anywhere.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and were shoved into the back of a van. The windows had been blacked out and when Deeks looked for the door handle he found it had been removed. He met his partner’s eyes. Her face looked as grim as his own probably did. She had her arms wrapped protectively around Katrina who was sobbing.

One of their new kidnapping friends, the one with the semi-automatic, joined them inside, his gun trained on them as the van started to move. “Listen man,” Deeks said, “whatever you want, you only need one of us. Let everybody else go and I’ll give you what you need.”

That was a lie of course, but he had to at least try. “Shut up,” the man said.

“Okay, okay, just trying to help you out. Three people is a lot to handle and once we meet up with Sebastian there’ll be four—“

The man leveled the barrel of his gun at Kensi’s chest. “Talk again and I pull this trigger.”

Deeks clamped his lips shut his mind running through the catastrophic damage a weapon like that could do at close range. They rode in silence for what he estimated was a half hour. The sounds outside the vehicle changed and he wondered if they were heading off into the Hawaiian wilderness. Isolation was not their friend.

At long last the van came to a stop and the engine turned off. He met Kensi’s eyes and she nodded in understanding; this might be their only chance.

The door slid open and Kensi shoved Katrina to the floor. Deeks kicked the man who’d been sitting with them and he went flying to the ground, his weapon firing wildly into the air. Jumping down after him Deeks struggled to grab the weapon.

He heard Kensi yell behind him and turned. The air left his lungs. He stumbled back and looked down to find blood on his shirt. Kensi was on her knees, bleeding from a head wound, looking at him in horror. “Deeks!”

That was when pain finally registered and he felt himself falling to the earth. He’d been shot. Again.

Kensi had jumped out of the van after her partner and been immediately hit in the head with the butt of a gun. It was enough to make stars explode before her eyes and send her to her knees. She watched as the man who’d struck her shot Deeks in the chest and then gasped when he grabbed her by the arm. Katrina was gripped in his other hand and he dragged them both to their feet and toward what appeared to be little more than a shack. “He needs help!” she yelled, doing her best to twist from the man’s iron grasp.

She and Katrina were roughly tossed to the floor and when she looked up it was to find a gun in her face. “Try anything and I’ll kill her,” he said moving it to point at Katrina who cringed away from him.

Kensi felt rage building beneath her panic. These assholes had managed to ruin not one, but two vacations and put two completely innocent people through trauma they would never forget, if they even made it out of here alive.

The door to the shed opened and the second man dragged Deeks inside, shoving him toward Kensi and Katrina. He groaned as he hit the ground. “Deeks, Deeks look at me!” Kensi moved so she was next to him, not caring what their captors thought as she inspected his wound.

“Ow,” he moaned.

Blood was oozing from the hole in his right shoulder and she could see the stain spreading across his shirt. “If he dies, you will have murdered an LAPD detective,” she said viciously. “They will hunt you down and they won’t care if they take you dead or alive.”

“Give us the Overwatch passcodes and he might live,” captor number one said. “We’ll give you a little time to think about it.”

“Wait, wait! Where is my boyfriend? What did you do to him?” Katrina asked desperately as they closed the door.

“Deeks, hey, how bad is the pain?” Kensi asked as she pulled open his shirt.

“Not bad,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Take a deep breath.” She rolled him onto his side and he let out a loud growl. “Okay, okay, I don’t see an exit wound so the bullet must be lodged against your collar bone.”

“Perfect,” he said through gritted teeth.

Kensi looked at their neighbor who had gone silent. “Katrina. Katrina!”

Katrina turned blank looking eyes her way. “He’s losing a lot of blood. I need you to find something to stop it. A cloth, tape, something that we can use to put pressure on it,” Kensi told her.

Katrina was slowly shaking her head and Kensi could tell she was about to fall apart. “Katrina!” she snapped the name out hard and the other woman jumped. “Go. You can do it.”

She nodded and moved to the other side of the shed, rifling through the shelves.

“You’re lucky he only had a Glock,” Kensi said grimly, using her hands to keep pressure on the wound.

“Lucky would be not having to worry about getting shot on vacation. Ah!” He groaned as she increased pressure.

“Sorry. This isn’t too bad but we need to get the bleeding stopped. Katrina!”

“This is all I could find.” She handed Kensi an old rag and some duct tape.

“It’ll work.” Kensi shoved the rag into Deeks’ hand. “Hold it there and I’ll tape it down.”

He held the wad of fabric tightly to his own injury, his eyes squeezed shut. Kensi ripped off long strips of duct tape and pressed it firmly into place making a makeshift bandage. “Ow!” Deeks yelled. “Damn it!”

“I know, I know, just breathe all right? You’re okay.” She said it as much to reassure herself as him. “Katrina, you okay?”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Kensi said firmly even as her hands trembled. She tightened them into fists and looked around the room, trying to drown out the panic coursing through her veins. It was a small shack with one tiny window high up on the wall. It had clearly been used for storage of some kind; there were empty paint cans, tarps, and old buckets lying around. “We need to look around for anything we can use. Rope or old tools, things like that.”

She turned her attention back to Deeks who was breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead. “You all right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just sit me up.”

He moaned as she helped him lean against the wall. “Don’t move,” she ordered as she went to help Katrina with the search.

“Not a problem,” he wheezed.

They didn’t come up with much; a handful of rope, a few nails, and a trowel, but nothing that would give them a significant leg up on their captors.

The door flew open and both men stomped inside. Kensi got to her feet, putting herself between them and her injured partner and a terrified Katrina. “Listen, you’ve dragged us all the way out here, I think we deserve some answers,” she said.

“The only person who’s going to be answering anything is you,” the first of the men said.

The both still had ski masks on but Kensi looked for differences in them, trying to get an idea of what they were dealing with. Both looked comfortable with their weapons and were well muscled, probably military trained. The second one was a little smaller and his gait was uneven, evidence of an old injury, the first clearly the leader of whatever the hell this was.

Kensi drew herself up to her full height. She would not show these men fear. “Then tell me what you want so we can get out of this mess.”

“You are Kensi Blye, Special Agent for NCIS?” Number One asked.

“You already know that.”

He looked around her to where Katrina stood. “Just making sure. We seem to have had a slight mix-up.”

She scoffed at him. “You call taking two innocent people hostage slight?”

“And he’s Detective Martin Deeks, LAPD?” He nodded toward where Deeks was curled against the wall.

“Present,” Deeks said, still cheeky even when in pain.

“Well now you know who we are, how about introducing yourselves,” Kensi said.

He ignored her. “Both of you have access to the Overwatch passcodes.”

Kensi glanced at Deeks, trying to determine how to answer that. “Yes,” she said finally. “As members of NCIS we have access to Overwatch.”

“Well that should make this easy then. Like I said before. We want your passcodes.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You think we’re going to tell you why? Your interrogation technique needs work.”

“Well so do your manners. Where’s Sebastian?”

“Listen Agent, the longer you stall us the longer we keep you here. You two ladies will be fine, but I’m not sure about the detective over there.”

Deeks looked pale and his breathing was more labored than before. She could see that the makeshift bandage she’d put on was growing dark with blood. She locked eyes with him and he shook his head, almost imperceptibly. She swallowed her fear for him and turned a fierce gaze on their captors. “I can’t give them to you.”

#NCIS LA #Densi #Cruel Cruel Summer #Chapter 5 #Summer Vacation #Whump #Marty Deeks #Kensi Blye #Hawaii

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