#when I get good enough to build my own miniatures everybody look out

[disasterarea-podcast]

I swear to God, I did not personally conjure this into existence.

[fonmythenmetz]

My atsuhina/msby-stan take for what happened after msby vs adlers match.

Hinata wanted to join Asas for the world championship, right.

Atsumu figured that Hinata’s ‘hunger’ was pushing him forward, to go further, to climb higher; he was frustrated and angry - same goes for Sakusa and Bokuto and the others, just maybe not as intense as in Atsumu’s case - (and he couldn’t really explain why, maybe because Hinata didn’t see them as good enough players? They all worked their hardest), so before Hinata’s departure he made another promise - something along “if you’re struggling to fight with the best and play with the best, then I’ll make this place the top of the world and you’ll come back”. That’s why his phrase in Olympic roster (2020) is “i will become number 1”. By the way, when the Japanese volleyball season started, jackals were absolute beasts (maybe they shared Atsumu’s feelings). In the olympic team interview (2021) Kageyama - who doesn’t even play in Japan anymore, he’s an international player now - says: “Results-wise, I’m still behind Atsumu-san”. Since there’re only 2 setters in the national team, there’s no one better then these two. So by 2021 Atsumu is #1 Japan setter.

Hinata is ready to go to Brazil for the second half of the season (2019/2020) with the best recommendations from Volleyball Association, but then pandemic happens.

I assume that japanese olympic team in haikyuu is formed according to generations (there was no one younger/older then them, only Hinata’s ‘generation’: previous third, second and first years), so the next olympic roster will consist of another generation; after 2021, coach Hibaridai and his colleagues saw no profit in investing in Hinata.

However, coach Foster and coach Banjou did not approve this, so they concluded a truce (for a short period of time! They’re rivals after all.

Spoiler: they grew fond of each other and want to be friends, but they’re both awkward, and coach Foster talks in his own language (a mix of English & kansai-ben & pantomime) which only msby can fully understand). Together they find a friend of a friend of the Asas’ head coach. Somehow with the help of google translate and Hinata they arrange a partnership programme between Black Jackals and Asas. Kuroo gets enthusiastic about it, so when the quarantine is over, msby flies for their first practice match with Asas São Paulo. It’s august 2020.

When they arrive, it’s late night; Atsumu locks himself in a hotel room, conflicted about how he feels - he can’t decide if he’s angry at Hinata for underestimating him and not acknowledging his life-long struggle, or happy that they will play the practice match together - well. He likes playing with Hinata. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like he missed him or anything. It’s about volleyball, alright?

Hinata has high school flashbacks; he remembers what Takeda-sensei said - “it is all about volleyball”, and he wonders where volleyball even ends. In Karasuno his closest friends were also his teammates, and all their activities were focused on volleyball. Karasuno - and rivalry with Kageyama - taught him to never look back, always look up and never slow down - because he had nothing but his jump and speed, and if he ever allowed a pause, he’d be defeated and left behind completely alone. Msby is the polar opposite of Karasuno. Sure, they stick to their diets; but on cheat days they are the main cheaters in the world and eat whatever gods send them. They are unorganized and every day with them is a blockbuster. They get into fights with neighbors’ dogs, they steal chopsticks from Osamu’s to build a miniature Skytree. They’re lazy and laid-back, they don’t do plans - it’s a principle. They have other jobs. But they’re passionate about volleyball, and when the moment comes, they always give their best shot. Hinata wonders if this, what he feels towards them, is solely about volleyball and great teamwork. Wait a minute. Maybe Karasuno was also not only for volleyball?..

Anyway, the more he thinks about this team, the more attached he feels, and it is suffocating.

He has to be free, he cannot allow to be restricted, or he’ll be left behind and forgotten. He knows that. Everybody said that - “you’re only good because of Kageyama”, “if not for your jump, you would never even sniff the ball”.

He doesn’t have to read the language of Atsumu-san’s tosses: this one is fast and close to the net - “smash them!”, a high one, drawing a beautiful arc - “play as you want”, tentative, with the warmth of his fingertips still on the leather - “let’s take it slow, their blockers are good...”, and that laser accurate, flash-fast, faster then ever - “go wild!” Everybody on the team can understand it - their ability to unite and read each other’s mind is almost paranormal, or animalistic, like they’re a pack of wolves communicating through scents and touches and small noises and grunts, on and off the court. Hinata wants them to win together, then go home and watch an episode of the Office, or do yoga, or play twister, or maybe even yoga twister (Omi-senpai always wins), then tuck his head under Inunaki-san’s elbow and beg him to caress his hair, almost feeling a pair of tall jackal’s ears atop of his own head, quivering from pleasure and support and acknowledgement, expressed in their unique inner fashion.

However, if he stays with msby, he won’t move forward. He’ll be overpowered and defeated, he’ll lose recommendations and his chance to play as many matches as he wants. Just like Karasuno, msby is a step in his development. When there’s a chance, he must go further.

So Hinata sits in the hotel lobby and thinks his strange thoughts, and there’s a delivery guy with a huge green bag waiting for someone. He’s in his early twenties and is stupidly tall, and judging by the sounds coming from his little tablet, he is watching a volleyball match. Hinata peeks at the screen and freezes: it’s a close-up of Omi-senpai. It’s a game that he doesn’t remember; well, after signing a contract with Asas he didn’t watch many of the Jackals’ games, focused more on South American League.

“Musubi Black Jackals”, - the guy explains, Japanese syllables clumsy on his tongue, noticing his awkward and almost starved glances. - “Antes do covid.”

Apparently, it’s Jackals’ last match before the quarantine. Hinata sits and silently watches. He is amazed to the core and maybe scared of them.

It’s almost five in the morning when Meian crawls out of his hotel room. There’s Oliver sprawled on the floor, futon miserably stuffed under his left knee, like a cloud that fails to cover Telamon’s body. He probably likes futons way too much for someone who can’t ask in Japanese where is the closest toilet. Meian sneaks into the street and looks for a vending machine. He remembers seeing one in the evening.

There it is. There’s also a man crouching before it, taking out his purchase. Meian politely stops several feet away and waits for his turn. The man does not move away. He looks like he’s fishing for something inside the vending machine. He’s rather tall and has an awful hairstyle.

The man looks at him, visibly irritated, and moves his hand. That is when Meian realises.

- Yer stuck? - he asks, then remembers that he is in damned Brazil where folk speaks damned Portuguese. The guy gives him a deadpan look. Meian looks up - there’s a beautiful can of cucumber flavored soda staring right at him, and he isn’t a quitter. Maybe Hirugami could quit here, but he’s a captain of Jackals and he gets his soda when he wants it. Fifteen minutes later he’s sweating like after a good game, having been waiving his hands and giving directions like a pro adjuster at Shibuya Crossing. The guy is free now. He pulls out a can of guarana drink and even smirks at him in a gesture of prickly gratitude, though it cannot fully hide the humiliation of being caught with your hand stuck in a vendine machine at five in the morning. Meian throws in money, watches his cucumber soda gracefully plop down, stuffs his arm in the drawer and tries to pull out. He’s stuck. The guy watches him from the side, leaning on the wall with his left shoulder, and Meian tries to act like he knows what he’s doing. Why hasn’t this bonehead left anyway?

After another fifteen minutes they’re both tired and both free. Meian clenches the can in his fist, refusing to look at the guy, but they simultaneously nod in a sense of solidarity before parting ways.

Later this day he wonders what kind of wicked fortune is that, standing in the centre of Asas’ main court and looking straight in the bonehead’s eyes. He’s introduced as the Asas’ captain.

Inunaki suspiciously glances at him.

- Have you two met before? - He asks with a hint of politeness, but there’s that ‘lie to me now and I’ll tell your pups that you drink cucumber soda at five in the morning” subtext. Kotarou, Omi-chan and Shouyo stand right here, so the threat is very much real.

- No, - he lies anyway, and everybody on the court knows he’s lying, including Inunaki, Kotarou, Omi-chan and Shouyo, and maybe even the Asas’ captain with his stupid blondie hairstyle.

- He drank cucumber soda at five in the morning, - Thomas says. Omi-Chan and Shouyo both snort, but Kotarou, the marvelous oldest pup, launches at him and whines: “Where did you get one??”

Asas’ players watch them from the sidelines. They’re already amazed and irritated, and Meian can’t wait for it.

Of course it doesn’t work as a one-time thing. Of course Shouyo is accepted. One day Meian walks in on Inunaki, Thomas and the Asas’ middle blockers singing Funky Town in their hotel room (outsiders are not allowed in hotel rooms. How did two guys over 6’5” even get here unnoticed?). When it’s time to leave, Asas’ captain - his name is Paulo, talk about coincidences - insults him in Portuguese for five minutes straight and tells him to get lost already.

- Let go of my sleeve then, - Meian says. Sometimes he thinks they have the same telepathy that Shouyo and Omi-chan share, because after two weeks of hunting for crabs and practicing volleyball and playing on the beach he can tell if Paulo talks shit about him. Apparently, it goes both ways.

- Release my jacket first, - Paulo says (Meian supposes he says it - he’s still not good at Portuguese, except maybe for curses). - Cucumber soda tastes like shit, - Paulo adds in a very very bad Japanese. Meian is nearly flustered, because the bonehead must have asked Jackals how to say that and then has been practicing. He grabs him in a headlock.

- Listen here, - he makes a serious face, - if Shouyo gets as much as a scratch, or complains about ya being an asshole, I personally come here to kick yer in the head. Understood?

There’s no point in worrying about Shouyo, though. He’s already made friends with everybody in Asas, especially with that tall libero boy who works in delivery. He stands there in the airport lobby with his new teammates, visibly forcing the corners of his mouth upwards. He’s clinging to Omi-chan’s sleeve like his life depends on it. Atsumu looks anywhere but at him.

- Atsumu-san, - Shouyo suddenly says, - I’m watching you. I won’t skip a single match, I promise.

Atsumu flinches and freezes in place.

- O-okay, - he declares, frowning.

- Watch us, - Bokuto corrects him, hugging his number one disciple one last time before the airport stuff snaps and shouts all of their names through speakers. That’s a brilliant departure show.

When Jackals win the championship, no one is surprised. Paulo has the decency to make an “omg, really?” face only because Meian can’t hit him through videochat. Asas are also terrifically strong. It’s late spring, Brasil Superliga is not over yet, so they fly to Rio, occupying Asas’ gym and playing on the beach and going to watch games for free. (When coach Foster and coach Preto finally met, they knocked over a trolley with suitcases running to hug each other like a pair of middle schoolers.) (So did Shouyo and the msby.)

Apparently Shouyo feels better now; he’s almost run out of sunscreen and worked on whatever complicated issues he had, so he’s ready to come back. Atsumu looks like he’s already won Olympics. So do Bokuto and Sakusa and the others, and maybe they missed him a little, or maybe they missed him very very fucking much.

One day (it’s a good day, it’s sunny and hot and there’s a wonderful fat thundercloud crawling at Copacabana from the seaside) a group of tall Spanish tourists occupy the beach courts. They argue and bicker and throw sand at each other. One of them accidentally catches a ball to the head (what the heck was he doing on this court anyway? Bokkun and Atsumu were in the middle of the game against Heitor and Carlos). Now they’re all arguing. They have no idea what the Spanish guys are saying because they don’t know Spanish, and still they somehow agree on a match. Atsumu hits five service aces, which is very sexy of him, and it seems that the Spanish setter (who hits four service aces) is not immune to a good server’s charm. After the match (Bokuatsu get 21 against 13, the Spanish wing spiker moved like a fish in the sand) he approaches the net, adjusting his flashy sunglasses, and tries to introduce himself in not-very-fluent Portuguese. His name is Oikawa and he is from Japan. Where are you guys from? - he asks. - Are you professionals or something?

This is how the whole Argentinian team Club Atletico (2020/2021 Argentinian championship silver medal - the year before covid they got first place) ends up in the Asas’ gym. Coach Blanco and coach Preto are old rivals, and they challenge each other to an arm wrestling competition, but then somebody jokes about holding hands (it was coach Foster) and they suggest volleyball instead. They schedule a practice match. It’d be impolite to leave msby outside of the party, so there’ll be three practice matches between Black Jackals (with Shouyo this time. Finally), Asas São Paulo and Club Atletico. All of them are high-ranked teams. It’d be so cool if they could get involved with each other more often, - someone says (it’s coach Foster). Nobody seems opposed to the idea, especially Shouyo, Sakusa, Bokuto, Atsumu, Oikawa and Oliver Barnes, who are already playing air hockey in the Argentinians’ hotel. How did they even get there? Anyways, Oliver wins and gets a huge hazelnut ice cream for his cheat day. In the evening, after defeating Heitor and Carlos (again) and losing to Santos and Fernandez (again), they shower in the beach stalls. The stalls don’t really have anything resembling doors, so one has to hold a big towel or something, guarding the way, while the other gets to shower. Shouyo asks Inunaki-san to hold a towel for him. “Sure”, - Inunaki-san says, and then catches Atsumu: “Sugar, could you please hold this? I want to help Adriah and Paulo with dinner”. Atsumu does not refuse - he’s not that busy and he has no idea who is inside the stall. After Inunaki-san leaves, he takes a glance over the towel.

Ten minutes later Oikawa approaches him with a huge alien-themed towel in hands.

- Are you okay? - He asks with uncharacteristic concern, because Atsumu looks like he has been simmered on the surface of this ugly beach shower stall, and - are those tears? So Oikawa calls out to whoever is showering there, assuming that Atsumu is just tired and maybe has got sunburn all over his body.

[anime-alyssa]

also on ao3. if you enjoy this, support me by buying me a coffee. 

its here! i’m so proud of this and i already have 5 full chapters written. this first chapter establishes things a little more but next chapter we get into it. 

be’jetii masterlist.

o n e.

It had been since years since the Empire had fallen. Six years of peace among the galaxy, the New Republic rising to restore peace that the Empire had stolen. Things were back to normal now, there was no war and life seemingly went on after the destruction of the second Death Star. Everybody seemed to turn their lives around mostly for the better after that, seeing that now there was a reason for living since there was no war on their doorsteps.

Leia Organa-Solo took her place as a Senator for the New Republic, crucial in the re-building efforts of the Senate and the galaxy. People were amazed at how she managed to do so and raise her son, but she was a smart woman who knew what to do and when to stop. Han Solo kept smuggling for a living afterwards, putting a dent in that relationship, but he always made it work.

Luke Skywalker opened up a training academy for the younger generation of Jedi, of course. He wanted to teach the new generation the ways of the Force, and pulled a lot of inspiration from his old masters. He never turned away a student and was determined to see them all through.

And then there was you - the only one out of the group of ‘heroes’ to fall into habits that weren’t necessarily the greatest. After your father Obi-Wan died at the hand of his old padawan, and some disagreements with Luke on the ‘Jedi way’, you left them all behind and fled back to Tattooine to live a different life.

In Mos Eisley, you could find any job you wanted that was under the radar for the right price. Bounty hunting, mercenary work, prostitution, you name it, you had done it. You stole goods off of unsuspecting people on the streets and sold them for double the price - your favorite place to do this was Coruscant. That shit sold for triple the money back in Mos Eisley, there was always someone stupid enough to buy it for more than it was worth.

Leia disagreed with your choices, but she wasn’t going to sway you from them. She knew you too well, you were stubborn as a mule. You never exactly told her what you did for a living, but she assumed correctly enough. You hadn’t been right since your father died, you had cut off most of your relationship with the Force and hadn’t actually turned your lightsaber on in god knows how long. Since the day he died? It had to be then, because it was then that you had Han drop you back off on Tattoonie.

“A lightsaber is a Jedi’s most powerful weapon, my darling. It is your life, you must never lose it.” Your father’s voice echoed in your ears whenever you thought about your lightsaber. It stayed attached to your belt at all times, hidden under layers of tunics and sweaters. Though you may not use it, you couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing your father from beyond the grave by not keeping it on you. So it lives on your bed, the silver metal hilt taunting you every time you look at it. The crystal still calls to you though, a sign to you that it will be there when you need it.

Luke and Leia had tried to reach out to you after you went back home. They were worried about you. You gave them almost total radio silence for a few months after that, until they quite literally showed up on your doorstep.

“I’m done with this fight, Leia, Luke. He was all I had left of my family and Vader took him from me.” you said, tears streaming down your face.

“But Kenobi - that’s why you should come back. Help us take down the Empire, make things right so no one suffers the same fate!” Luke fought back. You and Luke had known each other for years. You went to schooling together, made quick friends. You liked to say that Luke knew you the best, at least back then.

Leia shushed him quiet, pushing Luke out of her way as she walked over to you. You barely knew her at this point, having left right after she had been rescued. But she looked at you with empathy, knowing how you felt. You had forgotten that her entire planet was decimated on the same day, Leia too had lost everything.

“It’s alright. But please - reach out if you need anything.” Leia had said to you, before embracing you. You let the tears fall down your face once more as you trembled in her arms.

You had taken her up on the offer at least once a month since the fall of the Empire. She had taken up residency on Chandrilla with Han and her son Ben, and you would appear in the middle of the night, most of the time at least a little scuffed up. You’d crash at her place overnight while her droids worked on repairing your ship and left before Ben could even wake up. You didn’t want the kid to see you in the state that you were in.

You talked to Leia as often as you could. She reached out regularly to make sure that you were still alive, however your response rate was what was spotty. She let you know whenever you actually responded how stressed it made her - she would never let you live it down.

To make up for it, you told her that after you did this quick little ‘supply run’ in Coruscant you would pop in to Chandrilla to see her, Han and Ben. You hadn’t properly seen Ben since his birthday the previous year and the last time you had seen Han you had punched him in the nose. It was on the same day, and he deserved it, to be fair - he was late to his son’s birthday.

But first you had to steal a few more items off some people in the marketplace. Stuff that looked expensive, too. The more expensive it looked, the more money some idiot would back for it back on Tattooine. You had gotten something for Ben, not stolen to appease the questions you knew Leia would throw at you, so technically you could go. But one more item would do - just so you know you’d have enough money for food when you got back.

A glimmer on the wall caught your eye as you sat in the shadows, observing your surroundings. A Mandalorian walked by you, in full beskar armor. Now that would be something to steal - but you didn’t have a death sentence. Your eyes looked over to an object dangling from his, as equally shiny. It looked like a Mandalorian necklace of some sort, to signify the covert he was apart of or something. That would have to do.

You got up and walked a couple paces behind him so he wouldn’t notice you following him. It was crowded anyway, he wouldn’t notice you even if he tried. This is where being a force-user came in handy; once you got close enough with a flick of your wrist, the necklace was out of his pocket and into your bag on your hip. He hadn’t noticed a thing, as you expected.

You dipped into the next available alley way and speed-walked back to the hangar where you had parked your ship, satisfied for the day. Throwing some credits at the parking droid and leapt up the ramp to your tiny little ship, setting your course for Chandrilla as you sat in your pilots seat and took off. Once you made the jump to hyperspace you leaned back and relaxed.

Your ship wasn’t impressive, but it got you through. It was small, and your cockpit and hangar all connected. You had one bunk on the side wall to sleep on when you were making multi-day trips and a small refresher - one that you worked hard to close off. You had Han and Chewie help you with making sure it stayed off all radars, making it damn near impossible to track.

The console beeped to signal the jump out of hyperspace and before you knew it, you were landing on Chandrilla outside of Leia’s house. You smiled seeing Ben eagerly awaiting your arrival and lit up at his smile when he saw the two miniature X-Wing toys you bought him.

“Just for you bud, straight from the market on Coruscant itself.” you said to him, kneeling in front of the six year old. “Where’s mom and dad?” You asked, standing back up.

“Mom’s in a meeting, but Dad and Uncle Chewie are back here.” he said to you, taking your arm, but making damn sure he wasn’t dropping those X-Wings you bought him, and dragging you to the back where the Falcon was parked. Sure enough, Han and Chewbacca were working on the Falcon. The pair of them stopped to look at you and Ben.

“Look what Kenobi got me! Look!” Ben excitedly said to his father.

“I see, nice.” Han said to his son, looking back up at you narrowly as Ben ran off into the yard, pretending to fly his new toys. “Who’d you steal that from?” he asked you. You scoffed in response, rolling your eyes as Chewbacca let out a growl that sounded like it could be a laugh.

“I bought those with my own credits, thank you very much. You shouldn’t be the one to judge, Solo.” you said, sitting down on a crate and putting your bag at your feet.

“I’ll give you that one. What do you got, anything good?” he asked, taking a pause from the repairs and sitting across from you.

“Nothing that I’m gonna sacrifice to you, that’s for damn sure. I did steal this off a Mandalorian, though - ” you said, taking the necklace out of the bag.

“You stole from a Mandalorian? Kriff, do you have a death wish?” Han interrupted, seeing the necklace in your hand. Chewbacca growled a response, signaling his agreement with Han.

“You guys have no faith in me at all. I can take a Mandalorian. I was a Jedi, you know.” you said to them, offended by their lack of faith in your skills.

“Mandalorian’s don’t take kindly to their things getting stolen. Especially something like that - do you even know what it is?” Han asked. Hearing nothing from your mouth, he continued. “It’s a sigil of a Mandalorian covert - the only way to prove that they belong to the way of Mandalore. And you just stole it.” he said in disbelief, Chewbacca shaking his head behind him.

“Well if it’s made from the same beskar this one had all over his body it’s gonna feed me for months.” you commented, putting the necklace away. Chewbacca growled an ‘Oh god’ as he looked down at Han who had looked away for a moment to keep track of Ben, but then snapped his head right back in your direction upon that revelation.

“A full beskar curiass? You’re dumber than I thought, Kenobi. It was nice knowing you cause once he tracks you down, and he will, cause that particular Mandalorian is a bounty hunter, you’re going to be in carbonite for the rest of your life.” Han said, getting up to begin work again on the Falcon. “And trust me, that ain’t pretty.”

“It could be a different one Han, lighten up.” you mumbled.

“There’s only one Mandalorian that I know of that steps out of the shadows in full beskar, and it’s that one. Rumor has it he got the beskar from doing a job for former Imperials. And stole back the quarry for the job, banned from the Guild.” Han explained to you in detail.

“Well then you’re definitely bullshitting because the Empire is no more. You guys made sure to take care of that six years ago.”

“Believe what you want, just make sure Leia doesn’t see it when she gets here or you’re going to be dead before the Mandalorian finds you.” Now that made you shudder. You weren’t afraid of much, heck hardly anything, but if there was one thing that terrified you it was Leia Organa-Solo angry.

“Mom!” As if on cue, Leia walked into the area, Ben running over to her. You quickly made sure your bag was shut as you stood up, leaving Han and Chewbacca behind. Leia finished embracing her son and she looked up at you.

“Well aren’t you a sight.” she commented.

“Good to see you too, Leia.” you mumbled back. She gave you a one armed hug before ushering you indoors. You felt Han’s eyes burning into the back of your head, but you ignored it.

——

After a very good meal, some playtime with Ben and Leia, and yet another lecture on trying to convince you to move to Chandrilla that you ignored, you were back on Tattooine. Immediately you made way to Mos Eisley, eager to get rid of the items in your pockets. Turning a corner off the main walkway, you spotted Janar’s stall on the market from a mile away - your best buyer. Janar himself was in the backroom you knew of course, so you made your way past the shop keep and into the back room behind the curtain.

“Kenobi! I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost.” The Twi’lek said to you. You rolled your eyes as you began to empty your bag in front of him and he dug around for credits. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked, eyeing the necklace you had stolen off the Mandalorian.

“Right out of the pockets, Janar. If it’s made out of the same beskar this dude was wearing - you owe me three times what you got on you.”

“God, you’re good. Alright, here you go.” he said to you, throwing you three bags of credits across the table. You slid them into your bag and made way to leave. “If that Mandalorian shows up here, you’re dead though.” Janar made a point to add what Han had already explained to you earlier.

“God, why are people so terrified of Mandalorians? Solo said the same god damn thing.” you said to him, turning on your heel and leaving the stall. You walked frustrated, but still with a feeling of satisfaction inside of you and in your bag.

If the Mandalorian showed up, you could take him. Right?

taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @waiting-for-motivation @theocatkov @killtherandomness @domino-oh-damn

[dayas]

1,3,20 and 25 for the writing ask, I wanna know it all!

First off, I wanna say thank you for giving me this ask because now I have something to think about instead of just being in a sad cloud ❤️ it’s nice to have a little break 💞

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it.

Not to expose myself but I have like 5 WIPS 😂

War Of Hearts (jiara reincarnation au), a not so secret combination Dimya fic (flower shop + mob au), an angsty gotham/the batman (fc wise djdjsjsn) BatCat one shot (selina meeting bruce after he left in a slightly unexpected way), and I’m trying to draft/spin ideas for a POTC Klonnie au (calypso and davy jones’ story). With WOH, I’m filling in the second chapter which is taking FOREVER (sorry y’all), but I’m actually super excited for it to drop! With the work entirely, I definitely love all the little hints and breadcrumbs. It’s gonna start coming together more in the second chapter and I’m super pumped to see what y’all think! I’m on Chapter 1 of the Dimya Fic and searching for my inspiration but I know how it’s gonna go and that makes me happy. I love the combo aspect of the fic and how it’s a mashup, plus there’s some not so subtle underlying themes that I think are cool to explore! With BatCat, I wrote some yesterday! It’s a songfic and I love that about it, but also just the angst and flashbacks included, I think it’ll be really cool! And for the Klonnie fic, I haven’t even started 😭 Someone was basically like ‘write this!’ so I was like ‘okay!’ but I don’t know them that well yet writing wise so I need to explore 😂 tbh it’s just a concept that I really, really love and I have some ideas for the melody that goes along with it. Unsure if it’ll be a multi chap or a realllyyy long one shot once it drops but I’m thrilled either way! The technical “fifth” wip is for everybody who asked me when Kie would find out JJ is Sarah’s bf’s friend so watch out for that 👀 y’all ask, I answer 😂

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

GOD! THIS! Okay okay okay I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write a Jiara break up scene but there’s SO MUCH WORK THAT GOES INTO THAT LIKE THE SET UP AND THEN BUILDING INTO AN EXPLOSION SO here’s a no context, cliche, dramatic af breakup scene for jiara thank you for giving me the freedom to write this 😂

“We need to talk.”

That alone stops what she’s doing. JJ and Kiara don’t usually ‘talk’. They can have serious conversations, but they tend to reserve getting deep for when they’re either really really high, or the issue around them has to be resolved. They’re not in high school anymore, but old habits die hard. Still, she shakes off the pause, drying another dish as she says,

“About?”

“... stuff.”

“Stuff. Real eloquent there, JJ.”

His eyes are practically heating the soapy water up themselves. The kitchen at the Chateau isn’t exactly prime real estate as far as cleanliness goes, but since they’re around here more often than not, Kie decided to make an effort to spruce it up a little bit and dragged JJ into it.

Something’s wrong. He’s fiddling with his rings underneath the water at a faster pace than normal, leaning heavily against the lip of the sink.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Her voice is soft as she dries her hands off, coming up to him and slipping her arms around his chest, cheek pressed into his back. He tenses underneath her, shrugging her off and backing away.

“JJ,” Kiara’s voice is concerned now, “What’s going on?”

“Weneedtobreakup.”

His sentence is a blur that knocks into her, rattling around her brain as it spins like a top. As all tops do, the spinning eventually stops, leaving her with the capacity to space out the miniature word flood that left his mouth a few seconds ago.

We need to break up.

“What?” Kie says, panic creeping into her system, “Why?” She begins to think of what could have gone wrong, what could have prompted this.

“It’s not you, it’s — ”

“If you try to feed me one of your bullshit lines that worked on the ghosts of hookups past, don’t.”

He has the decency to shut up then and there, turning instead to lean back against the cabinets, hands gripping the edge of another counter.

“Is this about what my cousin said?”

A few weeks ago, they’d been invited to a formal family gathering on her mother’s side. Some crazy expensive week in Hawaii. Well, Kiara had been invited, and she brought JJ for two reasons. One, he’s her best friend which legally obligated him to help her out in a spot. Two, they were getting pretty serious (or so she thought), and she couldn’t hide in the OBX forever, so why not kill two birds with one stone? At an extremely over the top event, one of Kie’s drunk cousins approached JJ and started spewing some nonsense. Kiara intervened, of course, but later, she remembers, another one approached. Completely sober. She hadn’t been paying attention to that conversation, occasionally glancing over to make sure JJ wasn’t floundering. He’d been restless the entire night and a few days afterwards. But when they’d come back home, all was well. Or, again, so she’d thought.

She should’ve just chucked the damn stone at herself.

He grimaces, and it’s to her horror that she realizes it’s true.

“What the fuck did she say?”

Her voice is low and dangerous, a tiny sliver of a hint as to what’s hiding behind her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” JJ shrugs, eyes everywhere but her.

“Of course it fucking matters, JJ! What did she say?”

“Nothing!”

“That’s a lie.”

“I already told you it doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter then just tell me!”

“Fine!”

They are two powder kegs on the verge of an explosion. Kiara lit the spark, jumping the gun to shouting. He followed, and and now they’re at a precipice.

“You really wanna know what she said? Fine. She said that I’ll never be good enough for you, and you know what? She’s right.”

They tilt on the edge, still caught in the middle, unsure of where to fall.

“No. She’s not.” How can he even say that, let alone believe it? Kie isn’t always a fan of the cheesy, but it’s a cold hard fact that the man standing before her is one of the best things in her life.

“She is, Kie. You know she is. You’re not a Kook, but your family... they can give you so much more than I can. Opportunities and shit, the chance to get out of here. What do I have going for me?”

“Everything! You know I don’t want any of that bullshit or the baggage that comes with it — I want you.”

“I’m not gonna be enough. One day you’re gonna look up and realize that you want out of this place. Or I’m gonna look up and realize I turned into my dad.”

A bitter laugh leaves him, slicing them both to ribbons in the process.

“You’re not him, J. You’re not your dad and you never will be your dad.”

“You don’t know that! I don’t know that!”

They step closer at the same time, spark relit on the fuse to destroy them.

“JJ — ”

“No, Kiara. We can’t keep doing this. I’m stuck, and I’m not dragging you down with me.”

“You’re not dragging me down if I want to be here!”

Four more feet and they are two steps away from each other. They’re both tired, oh so tired, yet neither one is willing to give up the fight for their cause. The frustration builds, coiling tightly around them as JJ steps forward and shouts,

“I’m gonna ruin your life!”

“Then ruin it!”

Kie’s scream is passionate, every emotion inside of her escaping in those three words as she steps up to meet him.

“Ruin my life, JJ Maybank. Because I’d rather be in ashes with you than anywhere with anyone else.”

He takes one look at her and the pause between them could stop a train. Then, his head ducks down and his lips crash against hers. She reciprocates, sinking both hands into his hair. He picks her up and she wraps her arms around his waist as he sets her against the counter. Dishes crash onto the floor but neither of them are even remotely half assed to care. His lips attach to her neck and she exhales sharply.

“Stay,” Kiara whispers. And she wishes he did. If she would have been controlling their story, they would have taken this to Big John’s room and the breakup talks would cease. But she put everything in his hands, as he’s making the decision here. So when she tells him to ruin her life, she watches him grapple with himself. For a second, she sees his head tilt ever so slightly forward. He reels himself back in a second later, and the fire in his eyes burns out.

“I’m sorry,” JJ whispers, shaking his head and backing away from her.

“JJ,” Kiara calls after him, “JJ!” She’s immobilized, feet stuck to the floor.

This isn’t happening. This is not happening.

Something inside her breaks and she runs, tearing through the house. He’s already on his bike as she gets to the front porch, and curse him, he looks back. He puts the helmet in his hands on (she bought him that for his birthday — “You’re not getting fucked up on my watch. Put the damn helmet on.”) and drives away.

Kiara doesn’t know what happens next. When her faculties return her knees are scraped up, blood trickling down. She’s still on the porch and her face is wet, cheeks marred by liquid pooling in her eyes. Someone is crying, loudly, like their heart was ripped from their chest. No, she thinks, like someone else’s heart was ripped from their chest, someone the person crying loved. Because if her own heart was ripped out, she would not be able to feel. What Kiara wouldn’t give to not feel a goddamn thing right now.

She calls Sarah. Her friend comes and picks her up, and they go to her place. Kie can’t bear to be in the Chateau or her own room. Sarah’s is devoid of memories, for the most part. She explains what happened through her tears as her friend holds her, gently carding her fingers through her hair comfortingly. They light up, and then get a little tipsy and Kiara doesn’t know if it’s better or for worse. But it’s something. She’s reminded of after the Phantom went down, that night on the beach when she discovered the freedom to be. In this moment, Kiara’s free to be something. Anything. Whatever she wants. But the one thing she wants removed himself from her life, so she settles for being a mess instead. Sarah settles in with her when they’re all worn out, falling asleep quickly. Kiara’s vaguely aware that the person next to her is not who she wants it to be, that this is wrong in the sense that someone else should be here. She’s too cold, unraveled.

“Stay,” she whispers, but this time to herself. If she can stay for tonight, she can stay for tomorrow, and the day after that until she eventually finds her way back to who she is without him in her life. She’s not the same Kiara as she was this morning. She’ll be a different Kiara when she wakes up tomorrow. The Kiara she is wraps her arms around herself to keep whatever’s left from pouring out. She will do what he refused to. When the morning comes, she will face the world. While the moon is out, she is free to dream.

She dreams one last dream of him.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Okay LOOK 😂 there’s so much I wanna say on this but it would be so spoiler-y BUT for War Of Hearts, do some scanning! There’s a lot to unpack there, some obvious, some not! It becomes more evident in the chapters to come. I wish I could say more and I totally would if all of it was published 😭😭😭 OOO but I do enjoy referencing my works in other works (literally did that in the mini scene above lmao) so there’s a good chance that I riff off of previous concepts or something else across the stories/one shots that I write! There’s so many references I throw in too. For example, the ‘I hope you care to be recalled to life’ part in It Wasn’t Special Til I Met you is from A Tale Of Two Cities. I definitely love exploring concepts in my work, which I guess is why it kind of reads as flowery when I dig into it 😂

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

To me, I really love when I’m able to come up with good dialogue or a good scene and I’m like ‘OOO YES THIS IS IT!” It’s super fun to explore the underlying themes and symbolism in pieces; I totally love and live for weaving stuff together like Blues Clues 😂 I also adore dropping references to various works or songs because people will catch them and be like ‘wait is that xyz?’ and I’m like ‘yeah! yes it is! you get it!’ And that’s just a wonderful feeling 😊🥰

That’s all for me! Thanks for asking!

[inclineto]

sea-changed replied to your post “Books, May - June 2020”

5. thoughts on either mostly dead things or upright women wanted? they both look interesting but perhaps not interesting enough; though certainly this wouldn’t be the first time i was wrong about these things. (and also in conclusion, 6. you really do not have to answer all of this! booklist-related interrogation probably bring low on your list of priorities right now.)

sea-changed

replied to your post

“Books, May - June 2020”

4. the new kjc! pepperharrow! both things I loved and yet did not love as much as I wanted to, a conundrum largely of my own making. but i really did love, in the case of slippery creatures, the difficulties and the messiness of it; and in the case of pepperharrow the same, along with the strong kidfic-ish elements of it, which unfortunately spoke directly to my id. I’ll follow pulley pretty much anywhere, at the end of the day, I just wish she had led me somewhere slightly more satisfying.

sea-changed

replied to your post

“Books, May - June 2020”

this is wonderful; truly your book consumption leaves us mere mortals in the dust. 1. sequels! were either the tanzer or the lee improvements on their antecedents? 2. did bunny ever pay out, or did you need to be with it from the start (which i tried to be! and really was not)? 3. entirely concurred re: strong poison.

I’d better answer now, or it’ll be time to post July-August before I do - sorry for taking so long! As for the book consumption - well, you know, I haven’t been out much lately....

1, 2, 4, and 5: you have an alarming ability to pick out the books I was most ambivalent about. The Tanzer is - well, first, how do you feel about spending hundreds of pages in the heads of sulky teenagers? Second, it has no ending, and it’s not the satisfying kind of open-ended; right at what would be the end of Part Two in any other book, it just stops. (I think Liz Bourke’s review sums up the case nicely.)

I’ve almost forgotten the Lee, except that I did appreciate very much that the main character eventually figures out that girliness != vapidity; since you barely tolerated the first book, I think you should skip this one.

Bunny hits its grotesque mark, but you probably need to be at least a little willing to go with it. I wasn’t, entirely, but something about the cafe with the miniature food is pleasing, and there was one reveal at the end that surprised me, until I thought about how carefully it had been seeded throughout.

About the Charles, while reading it I actually said, “Will Darling, you are too damn stupid to live,” (more than once!) but I suppose he doesn’t know he’s starring in a spy-romance novel. Naturally, I like Maisie most of all, and I hope she shows up frequently in the next book.

About Pulley: it sure does seem like women get the short end in most of her books, and I don’t know that I like it (asylums, unsatisfying relationships, death by deus ex machina...). I forgive her about the octopus, though.

Mostly Dead Things I’ve talked about elsewhere, but I found it grim, grimy, and an absolute struggle to get through. An accomplished struggle, and I’m willing to believe all the reviews by people saying it was funny, but what with the graphic descriptions of taxidermy and the self-destructive drinking...not for me.

Upright Women Wanted is a pilot episode: you meet everybody; mysteries of the world-building are hinted at; then it ends.

3: it’s so good!

[My] 6: When did 1st person plural become the preferred narrative voice of literary fiction? I’ve run into it SO MUCH this year (We Ride Upon Sticks, The Secrets We Kept, We Wish You Luck), and that feels new - but maybe it’s old MFA hat and I just haven’t been reading the right novels.

[zen3to5]

J/H 7-25: That ‘70s Finale

FF.Net AO3

***

SHOW TITLE   TITLE CARD   CARD 1: Eric Forman’s house   CARD 2: December 31, 1979   CARD 3: 8:45 p.m.   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - NIGHT   It’s New Year’s Eve - the end of the ‘70s. The Forman kitchen isn’t decorated, but it is filled with trays of crackers, cheese, carrots, celery sticks, peanut butter, raisins – any number of snacks and party foods. RED and KITTY, dressed in warm but semi-formal clothes, are in the kitchen. Kitty works on the icing of a chocolate cake at the stovetop, while Red stands next to her, eyeing one of the snack trays. He reaches for a miniature sausage, but Kitty, without looking up, smacks his hand away.   RED: Kitty, for God’s sake, this food’s been sitting here for almost an hour. Do you want me to just go hungry until 1980 gets here?   KITTY: No, just until our guests come.   She finishes icing the cake, sets down the knife, and clasps her hands together.   KITTY (cont’d): Oh, I’m so excited! Everyone, together again! You know, we haven’t seen any of the kids since Eric went off to college. Donna’s with him, Steven and Jackie are so busy in Chicago, and Michael and Fez stopped coming by after you caught them trying Michael’s skeleton key on the basement door.   Red nods with pride.   KITTY (cont’d): And, with the snowstorm, the only one who made it home for Christmas was Laurie, who stuck around just long enough to get her cash present before running on back to -   RED: College.   KITTY: Red, that girl is living with a French-Canadian -   RED: College.   He refuses to meet Kitty’s frown; he has his story, and he’s sticking to it. Kitty shrugs it off, picks up a tray of snacks, and exits into...   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Kitty, with Red right behind her, sets the tray down on the coffee table.   KITTY: Admit, Red Forman. You’re excited to see the kids again too.   RED: I was excited when they left. Their visits, I tolerate.   Before Kitty can reply to that, the doorbell rings. She and Red both hurry to the door.   KITTY: Oh, that must be them.   She throws the door open and finds KELSO and FEZ, bundled up for the December chill. Kelso throws his arms wide while Fez readies a noisemaker.   KELSO: HAPPY NEW YEAR!   Fez gives the noisemaker a toot. He and Kelso grin broadly while Red rolls his eyes and Kitty manages a smile.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   The initial disappointment that they aren’t Eric having passed, Kitty warmly beckons Kelso and Fez into her home, giving each boy a hug in turn.   KITTY: Oh, boys! It is so nice to see you again!   KELSO: It’s great to see you, Mrs. Forman. We’ve missed you.   FEZ: Yes. I am around a lot of old ladies at the salon, but none with your kindness, your way with bridge, or your foxy good looks.   He gives Kitty a would-be seductive glance. She smiles uncomfortably; Red scowls.   RED: And I’ll be none of them have a foot ready to go up your ass.   KELSO: Ah, there’s our Red! C’mere, you!   He and Fez open their arms and advance, as if to hug Red.   RED: Don’t touch me.   The boys back off. Instead, they shed their coats and stroll into the living room and sit down on the couch, helping themselves to the snack tray.   KELSO: All right, New Year’s 1980! That’s, like, a new century! Are we the first ones here? I figured Donna at least would’ve shown up by now.   KITTY: You mean Eric and Donna.   FEZ: Oh, I’m not sure about that. The last time we called them, Donna answered, and when we asked to talk to Eric, she said that Eric was in his new apartment.   Red and Kitty’s jaws drop; they haven’t heard a thing about this.   KELSO: Then she said, “oops,” and we asked, “what’s up with you two,” and she said “nothing,” but it was the kind of “nothing” we always used to say when we broke something around here and you caught us but we tried to cover it up.   FEZ: Then we offered to drive to Madison to console her – sexually. That’s when she hung up.   They turn back to the snack tray as Red and Kitty share stunned looks.   KITTY: Eric’s in a new apartment?   RED: Don’t tell me that dumbass screwed things up with Donna again! He’s had half the damn decade to get it right!   KITTY: (to Kelso, Fez) Are they broken up? Are they moving?   FEZ: We don’t know. We haven’t talked to them in a while.   KELSO: We’ve been pretty busy.   KITTY: Oh – yes. I’m sorry, boys. Michael, is watching your daughter on weekends working out? And how are things with you boys, sharing an apartment?   KELSO/FEZ: Awesome./It’s magical.   They both look up with matching dopey grins. Track in on their faces, and we begin:   MONTAGE. Set to “It’s a Sunshine Day” by the Brady Bunch.   A) Kelso and Fez, looking straight into the camera and walking in exaggerated jaunts in time to the music in front of an obvious green screen of a town street on a bright sunny day.   B) CONVIENIENCE STORE, run down and poorly stocked. A MASKED ROBBER is holding up the CLERK with a knife. Two cops burst through the door, one of them Kelso. The robber keeps his knife pointed at the clerk as he backs up. The cops draw their mace. Kelso is holding his backwards – something he only realizes when he shoots. He hurls back, his can of mace flying. Kelso crashes into the outside shelf and sets off the dominos, knocking every shelf in the building down even as he rolls over them, kicking in pain and grasping at his eyes.   C) SALON. On a busy day where every stylist is taken, a long line still forms for Fez. We track along the line until we reach Fez, hard at work on an ATTRACTIVE GINGER WOMAN. Fez is on the final stage – drying and styling. He sits the woman all the way up, revealing soft waves. The ginger pats her hair in stunned ecstasy. Fez holds up a mirror so she can have a better look. The ginger stands and offers him her hand. He goes in for a kiss instead. She slaps him, sending his face crashing into the still-full sink.   D) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. It is late at night, and the place appears empty. The door swings open and Kelso enters, wrapped around a BUXOM BLONDE. The two of them make out furiously all the way to the bedroom door, which Kelso manages to open without disentangling himself. They start to make their way into the room, but what’s inside causes the blonde to shriek. Kelso, when he gets a look, averts his eyes. The blonde flees from the apartment. Kelso tries to beckon her back, but fails. He turns the lights on and charges into the bedroom. Fez emerges, his fly and his belt open, and he runs around the apartment, chased by Kelso.   E) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. The boys on the couch, a trashed apartment all around them. They each have a keg of beer and a tap. They link arms and spray into their mouths.   F) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. MUSIC CHANGE: a music box rendition of “Hush, Little Baby.” The weekend is here, and the apartment is immaculately clean. BROOKE is in the doorway with BETSY. She hands Betsy off to Kelso, and her baby carrier to Fez, then exits. Kelso rocks Betsy gently in his arms as he and Fez both lean in to make goo-goo faces at her.   G) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. Kelso, on the couch, feeds Betsy her bottle as Fez watches from behind.   H) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. Kitchen area. Fez burps Betsy while Kelso plays with a teddy bear.   I) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. Bedroom. A baby crib is set up, with Betsy inside. Kelso and Fez look in on the crib. Kelso strums a guitar as he and Fez sing Betsy a lullaby.   J) KELSO AND FEZ’S APARTMENT. The weekend is over. Brooke is back in the doorway. She collects Betsy from Kelso’s arms. With a smile, she exits, and Kelso and Fez smile and wave her goodbye. Once she’s gone, and the door is shut, there is a MUSIC CHANGE back to “It’s a Sunshine Day,” and Kelso and Fez both pull out beer cans. They shake them up, crack them open, and spray the foam at each other.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Back to the present. Kelso and Fez both nod contentedly at the picture of their life. Red and Kitty seem much less pleased.   RED: You two aren’t getting back in here once we’re in the ‘80s.   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Last Dance” by Donna Summer.   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   A short time later. The music continues, as a song over the radio. The party is properly underway, and it’s a bigger crowd than just the kids. W.B. and ANGIE stand on the stairs, chatting with Brooke. LEO sifts through a bowl of mixed nuts on the bar with his fingers while Kitty stands behind the bar, making herself a drink. CASEY KELSO walks the floor while nursing a rum and coke, and MR. AND MRS. KELSO, along with several burly boys who can only be KELSO’S OTHER BROTHERS, mingle with FEZ’S OLD HOST PARENTS and PASTOR DAVE. Red and BOB stand off by the kitchen door, drinking beer.   Kelso and Fez, standing by couch, happily take in the scene.   KELSO: This is so great. It’s just like old times. We’ve got Leo, we’ve got Bob, we’ve got Mrs. Forman getting drunk and flirting with my brother.   Sure enough, Casey has made it to the bar, and is chatting up Kitty while she mixes her drink.   CASEY: So I says to the guy, “for that kind of money, what the hell?” And now I’m dancing at the club.   Kitty, breathless, leans on the bar and gazes up at Casey’s face.   KITTY: (swooning) Oh, yes.   Over by the kitchen door, Bob smiles as he looks over the party. Red scowls, but an unusually peaceful scowl.   RED: Look at all these freeloaders. Just when I was getting used to having my house back, too.   BOB: You seem pretty relaxed about it, Red. Usually by now, you’re threatening to call the cops on your own party and tell ‘em the guests are trespassing.   RED: (shrugs) Yeah, well... we’re closing out a decade, after all, and it makes Kitty happy, seeing everybody again.   He nods his wife’s way; Kitty and Leo are happily chatting.   RED (cont’d): And I’ll admit – it’s not so bad, having a little break from all the peace and quiet. But I tell ya, Bob – having the kids out of the house is everything I dreamed it would be.   He gives a small smile, sighs, and looks up. Slow zoom in on his face as we cut to:   MONTAGE. Set to an orchestral arrangement of “Anchors Aweigh.”   A) FORMAN LIVING ROOM. The middle of the day. A clearly unhappy Red is slumped in his chair, clicker in hand. He mindlessly clicks his way through the TV channels, while occasionally looking around the room with a deep frown.   B) FORMAN AND SON. A dead day for business. Red stands at the counter, leaning on the countertop with his head in his hands; he’s bored out of his skull. He looks around his empty shop before fiddling with a wrench on the countertop.   C) FORMAN BASEMENT. Some work has been done to redecorate the basement into a gentleman’s retreat, as Red once envisioned, but that work is limited and halfhearted; a few hunting trophies and Packers merchandise left scattered around the room. Red sits on the couch, punching one hand into a catcher’s mitt, as he looks around the basement.   D) FORMAN KITCHEN. Red, dressed for work, reads the newspaper at the kitchen table while Kitty cleans the stovetop. An empty water glass is by Red’s elbow. As he turns the page, he knocks the glass to the floor, where it shatters. Red immediately jumps to his feet and flies into an exaggerated fit of yelling, shaking his fists, and glaring up at the ceiling. Kitty nonchalantly collects the glass pieces as Red keeps going.   E) FORMAN LIVING ROOM. Red is in his chair again, this time with a bottle of beer. SCHATZI sleeps at his feet. Red takes a covert glance, makes sure Schatzi is sleeping. He tips his beer so that a small amount splashes onto the carpet by Schatzi’s rear. As soon as a spot is visible, Red jumps up, shakes his fist at a still-sleeping Schatzi, and scolds him as if he had an accident.   F) FORMAN MASTER BEDROOM. Red paces back and forth, ranting at raving and shaking his finger directly into the camera. A reverse shot reveals his real target - a PHOTO OF ERIC.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Back to the present, and back to the party. Red shakes off his mental recap of the last few months and turns back to Bob.   RED: You know, Bob, we haven’t seen you over here much lately. How about we keep it that way?   BOB: (chuckles) Hey, I’ve got no wife, no daughter – I’m free to do whatever I want. It’s a busy time for Bob.   CUT TO:   INT. PINCIOTTI LIVING ROOM – DAY   A day in the life of “busy time” Bob. He sits in front of the TV with a tray of lasagna. THE LOVE BOAT is on the tube. Bob shovels what’s left of the lasagna into his face with a fork and sets the tray down. He belches and opens his belt. Patting his stomach, he lets out a long sigh. A flicker of discomfort crosses his face; matters are afoot down below. Bob stands and crosses to the bathroom, disappearing inside.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Back to the present.   BOB: (to Red) So, when are the kids getting here?   RED: Ya got me. Say – you haven’t heard from Donna lately, have you? Because Kelso said something about Eric moving into a new apartment.   BOB: New apartment? What’s going on?   Kitty, walking the floor, overhears and rushes to join in on the conversation.   KITTY: (to Bob) You didn’t know either?   BOB: It’s the first I’m hearing about it. Did your bastard run off on my little girl again?   KITTY: Well, how do you know your harlot didn’t dump my baby boy again?   BOB: Don’t you call my Donna a harlot, Kitty!   KITTY: Don’t you call my Eric a bastard!   Bob looks ready to retort, but Red steps between them.   RED: All right, let’s not spoil the new year. Let’s just agree that they’re both morons and give ‘em hell when they show up.   The doorbell rings and the door opens, but it isn’t Eric or Donna. It’s JACKIE and HYDE, both snazzily dressed for the party and for the winter weather. Jackie has an enormous bag slung over her arm.     JACKIE: Happy New Year!   Kitty hurries over to them, Red right behind her. She immediately snatches Hyde up into a crushing hug. Jackie does the same with Red.   KITTY/JACKIE: Steven! My second son! Oh, I’ve missed you./Mr. Forman! Oh!   HYDE: (cringing in her hug) No, that’s all right, Mrs. Forman... no, you don’t have to... ugh, okay, I missed you too!   He gives her a light hug back, which is enough to get her to release him. Red, meanwhile, cringes in Jackie’s hug.   RED: (to Jackie) You couldn’t have outgrown this in Chicago?   She lets him go, just in time for Kelso and Fez to come running up. She meets them in a big group hug.   JACKIE: Michael! Fezzie!   KELSO/FEZ: Jackie!/We missed you!   JACKIE: Oh, I missed you too – (stern) Get your hands off of there.   They let go, but don’t get back in time to avoid Hyde slugging them both in the arm.   KELSO: (to Hyde) And we missed that too. C’mere, Hyde!   The boys have a quick group hug of their own. Kelso and Fez give Hyde a once-over, Kelso fiddling with Hyde’s jacket.   KELSO (cont’d): Man, look at you – new jacket, new shirt, new watch, new boots... the only thing old about you is your face.   HYDE: Well, man, somethin’ told me that ringing in a new decade was a time to break out the nice duds. And that something kept telling me, hour after hour after hour, ‘til I finally said, “would you shut up, Jackie? I’ll do it already.”   JACKIE: (teasing) Well, what’s the point of buying my man nice outfits if I don’t get to show ‘em off once in a while?   She plays with Hyde’s collar.   FEZ: Jackie, you paid for Hyde’s fancy threads?   JACKIE:  Fez, do you know how much money I make, working on TV? I pay for everything. I said a lot of things about those feminists growing up, and they’re still totally wrong about hair and lipstick and how men are supposed to carry you over puddles and everything – but making the most money kind of kicks ass.   HYDE:  Works out for me, too. She always leaves her purse lying around. I’ve never had an easier time picking someone’s pocket.   He and Jackie smile at each other, she “awws.” She leans against his chest as he puts his arm around her shoulders.   JACKIE: Oh! I almost forgot –   She stands up straight, reaches into her bag, and pulls out a brandy bottle.   JACKIE (cont’d): Mrs. Forman, we got you something for Christmas. My mom took off for Tijuana, and she left the cabinet where she keeps her good brandy unlocked.   She presents Kitty with the bottle.   KITTY: Ooh, honey, let’s you and me mosey on over to the bottle opener.   Laughing, she leads Jackie to the bar.   Hyde pulls a small envelope from his jacket, hands it to Red.   HYDE: Here you go, Red. A little late Christmas present.   Red takes the envelope, opens it up. He nearly drops the contents as his eyes bug out.   RED: (breathless) Season Packers tickets. (looks up at Hyde) You know I don’t usually do this.   He throws himself at Hyde in a tight hug. Hyde smirks, pats Red on the back, and gently eases him back.   HYDE: Yeah, they’re from me and Forman. He knew he was gonna be late, so he asked me to bring ‘em.   RED: (pockets tickets) Say, when was the last time you spoke to Eric? What’s going on with this new apartment he’s got?   Jackie looks over from the bar as Kitty pours two glasses of brandy.   JACKIE: You don’t know? We were gonna ask you.   KITTY: (to Jackie) No, we don’t know anything. Have you heard from Donna at all?   JACKIE: Well, we were over at their apartment for Thanksgiving, and everything seemed fine. Then, a few weeks ago, they said they were going to be gone for the weekend and asked us to housesit, and that’s when we noticed all of Eric’s stuff was gone. But when we asked them about it, all they said was, “we’re moving.”   Red, Hyde, Kelso, and Fez step down to the bar, and Bob crosses the room to join them.   BOB: “We?” As in both of ‘em?   KITTY: But only Eric’s things were gone?   JACKIE:  (nods) And then, when Eric and Steven went to get the Packers tickets, Donna asked me to help her with her hair. She was taking forever to dry it out, so I started going through her mail, and it turns out she has a passport.   BOB: A passport?   KITTY: Oh, my God.   RED: What the hell is going on with those two?   Everyone shifts on their feet as worry crosses their faces.   HYDE: This is an unsettling and awkward situation. It calls for beer.   He crosses the room and disappears into the kitchen.   The tension broken, Kelso, Fez, and Bob disperse into the party while Jackie goes behind the bar to sip her brandy. Kitty takes hers in hand, moves to Red’s side.   KITTY: (pained) Oh, Red.   RED: (embraces her) Look, Kitty, I know this all sounds bad. But Steven said Eric’s on his way, and I’m sure he’ll explain everything. And, if he doesn’t, I’ll make him. He knows I still can.   Kitty leans into his hug, wraps her arms around his waist. Her eyes flicker over to the coffee table, where the tray of snacks is now empty.   KITTY: (softly) Do you think you could get the other tray from the kitchen?   RED: Sure.   He kisses her forehead, lets her go. He crosses into...   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   ... And is greeted by the sight of Hyde standing at the open fridge, SCHATZI in his arms. Hyde is feeding Schatzi an uncooked hot dog when he looks up, sees Red.   HYDE: (beat) Schatzi’s upset about Forman and Donna too.   Red frowns, crosses his arms.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” by The 5th Dimension.   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   The party goes on. Hyde, having shed his jacket, is now talking with W.B., Angie, and Leo on the stairs while petting Schatzi. Fez, his host parents, and Brooke chat by the organ. Red and Pastor Dave stand together near the kitchen door. Bob and most of the Kelso clan have the bar.   Kitty sits in Red’s chair, with Jackie (also sans jacket) and Kelso on the couch. They all have glasses of brandy, but Kitty is the farthest along on hers.   KITTY: Why? Why would my son do this? Why is he keeping so many secrets? Is he worried what we’ll think of him? Because mothers don’t judge – they love. And sometimes get very, very disappointed.   JACKIE: Okay, Mrs. Forman, I know all this stuff with Eric and Donna has upset you. But, on the bright side – Steven and I set a date for our wedding!   She produces invitations from her bag – large scrolls with sealed ribbons. She gives one each to Kitty and Kelso, who wastes no time opening his up.   KELSO: (reading) “Steven and Jaqueline Burkhart-Hyde cordially request the honor of your presence at the celebration of their union – March 21, 1980, St. James Cathedral, Chicago.” (to Jackie) Isn’t that, like, one of the biggest churches in the city?   JACKIE: Yep. That was the deal we made – a big, fancy wedding for me, a “special” honeymoon in Amsterdam for Steven.   KITTY: Well, honey, all honeymoons are special.   She doesn’t get it, and Jackie and Kelso don’t enlighten her.   KITTY (cont’d): Oh, this does sound lovely, Jackie. And of course, we’ll be there. And maybe, while we’re in Chicago, we’ll even get a chance to see you on TV again. We don’t get your show here in Wisconsin.   KELSO: Yeah, how’s that going, being entertainment anchor?   JACKIE: Michael, it’s me. I’m fabulous.   She looks up, a proud glint in her eye. Slow zoom in as we begin:   MONTAGE. Set to “Witchy Woman” by the Eagles.   A) ANCHOR DESK. The entertainment desk for Chicago’s WSNS station, with all the lights down except for a background light creating a silhouette of the anchor. As the lights rise and the camera tracks in, we see Jackie, with perfect hair and stylish suit. She is just a little too aware of the camera as she delivers her segment.   JACKIE: Good evening, Chicago. I’m Jackie Burkhart, and this is Jackie’s Corner.   B) ANCHOR DESK. Another day, another outfit. We join Jackie in the middle of a film review.   JACKIE (cont’d): Okay, so – my fiancé loves Monty Python, and their first movie is funny and all, but I have a question: what was with the coconuts? Could they not afford a horse? Newsflash, England – ladies want to see men on horseback. Even if they’re doughy, bad-teeth Englishmen.   C) ANCHOR DESK. Another day, another story, another outfit. Jackie’s still playing to the camera. Michael Jackson’s album OFF THE WALL is in her hands.   JACKIE (cont’d): Off the Wall: it’s hip, it’s hot, it’s flying off the shelves – but who thought a bow tie this big was a good idea?   She points at the tie of Jackson’s tuxedo on the album and shakes her head.   D) ANCHOR DESK. Another day, another story, another outfit. Jackie’s hair is a preview of the coming decade: the Whale Spout hairstyle, with some crimps for good measure. Jackie’s eyes roll up, as if she could see her hair that way.   JACKIE (cont’d): (scoffs) Like this will ever catch on.   E) ANCHOR DESK. Another day, another story, another outfit.   JACKIE (cont’d): So Star Trek gets a movie but Charlie’s Angels have to stay on the small screen?   She holds up two photos – an unflattering one of William Shatner, and a glam shot of Jaclyn Smith.   JACKIE (cont’d): Look at these pictures and tell me who’s going to move the most tickets.   F) ANCHOR DESK. Jackie is sitting on her desk this time, spread out across it. She is modelling the quintessential 1980s look – big hair, big shoulders, neon colors, and leg warmers. She looks down at those leg warmers, gives her right leg a shake, and looks into the camera.   JACKIE (cont’d): Call me crazy, but I think leg warmers might be here to stay.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Back to the present, as Jackie gives a contended sigh and leans back into the couch.   A clearly unhappy Brooke and an apologetic Fez march to the couch and stand over Kelso.   BROOKE: Michael, Fez just let it slip that you two have been having crazy beer parties when you aren’t watching Betsy.   KELSO: Uh? Oh, no. Fez is just confused, since he’s foreign. See, in his language, “beer” means...   No lie comes to mind. Instead, Kelso slaps Fez hard in the hand. Fez slaps his face back. Kelso stands, and the two of them get into a rapid-fire slap fight.   Over by the kitchen door, Bob joins Red and Pastor Dave as Red pulls out his gift from Hyde and Eric.   BOB: (whistles) Season tickets? That’s nice.   Pastor Dave, trembling, lets out a high, girlish squeal of delight, one that cuts off as soon as he sees the way Red and Bob are looking at him.   RED: You know I can’t take you to a game if you do that, Dave.   Dave, contrite, nods and looks down at his feet.   On the stairs, Hyde shifts Schatzi under one arm so he can put the other around Leo.   HYDE: Leo, man, how’s Grooves?   LEO: Great, man. The Wall? Pink Floyd? It sounded awesome, man.   HYDE: No, Leo, I meant Grooves, the record store. (beat) That we hired you to run when I moved to Chicago.   LEO: I run a record store? Wow, I’m really moving up in the world.   ANGIE: (laughing) He’s actually been doing an okay job. We’ve only had one complaint about a hippy orgy.   HYDE: (nods) W.B., how’re things in Milwaukee, man?   W.B.: Are you kidding? It’s great! Having Angie there in the corporate office is the best decision I ever made. (Angie beams) See, right before I gave her that promotion, I got into this snooty country club. They didn’t think I’d be there much. But now that I’ve got Angie running things, I’m there all day, every day – with friends. And there’s nothing those brothers love more than making white people uncomfortable.   HYDE: Nice.   W.B.: And what about you, Steven? How’s business in Chicago?   HYDE: Flying.   He flashes a cheeky grin. Slow zoom in as we cut to:   MONTAGE. Set to the instrumental track of “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” covered by Led Zeppelin.   A) GROOVES, CHICAGO. THE CIRCLE. Hyde sits behind the counter, a diffuse cloud of smoke all around him. He coughs, waves some of the smoke away, and flashes a grin at the camera.   HYDE: Welcome to Grooves.   B) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another Circle. An unseen customer hands Hyde his choice of record from off-camera – SPIRITS HAVING FLOWN by the Bee Gees. Hyde looks up with utter contempt.   HYDE (cont’d): The Bee Gees? You know there’s a 20% tax on crap in this store, right?   C) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another Circle. An unseen customer hands Hyde his choice of record from off-camera – BACKLESS by Eric Clapton. Hye looks up and nods approvingly.   HYDE (cont’d): Nice. And you know there’s a 20% discount on rock n’ roll in this store, right?   D) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another Circle. This time, Hyde is busy with a lighter: he very casually sets a sleeve for ABBA’s VOULEZ-VOUS on fire.   E) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another Circle. Hyde leans back and tips a bag of potato chips. The entire bag showers down over his face, and some of them even make into his mouth. He happily munches down.   F) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another – particularly intense – Circle. Hyde leans in to speak to an unseen customer off-camera.   HYDE (cont’d): Hey, did you hear about that car that runs on water? It’s got a fiberglass, air-cooled engine, and it runs on water, man!   G) GROOVES, CHICAGO. Another day, another Circle. Hyde performs air guitar to the montage music.   H) JACKIE AND HYDE’S APARTMENT, clearly decorated by Jackie but currently filled with dim lighting and a smoky haze. (MUSIC NOTE: song cuts out.) Jackie and Hyde sit together, their heads leaned against each other and matching spaced-out smiles on their faces.   JACKIE: Baby, I think you’re late for work.   HYDE: I thought you were late for work.   They both sit up slightly, puzzling the answer.   JACKIE: Huh.   HYDE: Maybe we’re both late for work.   JACKIE: Or – is work late for us?   She wiggles her eyebrows, “think about it.” Hyde gives her a short stare, then leans down for a kiss. They fall out of frame as they make out as the montage music resumes for a final sting.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   Back to the present. Jackie has joined Hyde, who has his arm around her shoulders. Leo, W.B., and Angie disperse into the party.   Red and Kitty cross to Jackie and Hyde.   KITTY: Steven, do you have any idea when Eric is coming? It’s almost midnight.   Bob, Kelso, and Fez join them.   BOB: And what about Donna? No one knows if she’s coming to this party?   A lot of shaking heads answer.   BOB (cont’d): Come on, I’m her dad. I deserve some answers. What’s going on with that passport? What’s going on with her and Eric?   KITTY: Red, I’m getting worried. There’s no reason they shouldn’t be here by now.   HYDE: You want us to go look for ‘em, Mrs. Forman?   KITTY: Oh, honey, would you?   KELSO: Yeah, that’s a good idea. (pulls out cop badge) Okay, everybody, line up! We’re turning this New Year’s party into a search party!   He draws focus from everyone in the party, but only for a second; most of the guests turn back to their conversations. Hyde, Jackie, and Fez disperse, searching for their coats, ignoring Kelso’s hand signals to form a line.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – NIGHT   A thick layer of snow covers the hedges and the yard, but the driveway is clear. The VISTA CRUISER, with suitcases packed and tied on top, slowly backs up into the driveway and parks. ERIC, bundled up for the cold, steps out. He gives a long look around his old home before climbing up on the hood of his car to sit back and look at the stars.   DONNA, also bundled up, and with red hair and a short haircut, comes up the driveway. A knapsack is slung over her shoulder. She taps Eric on the foot to get his attention.   DONNA: Hey.   ERIC: (sits up) Hey. You made it.   DONNA: (nods) Snuck the last of my stuff out of my dad’s house. I’m just here to say goodbye to everybody, then it’s off to the airport.   ERIC: Good. (sits back) You know, I still remember the night you first kissed me on the Vista Cruiser. It was warmer then.   DONNA: Yeah, well... a lot of things are different now.   ERIC: (softly) Yeah.   Donna climbs up next to Eric and sits back too. Overhead shot on the two of them slowly pulls out as we begin:   MONTAGE. Set to “Thirteen” by Big Star. A collection of moments Eric and Donna have shared over seven seasons. Included in the montage are:   A) The aforementioned first kiss.   B) Eric and Donna moving to hold hands over the scented candle of Eric’s 17th birthday.   C) Their dance at junior prom.   D) Cuddling in the back of Kelso’s van.   E) The “Fernando” dance.   F) Their wrestling greatest hits.   G) Shoving each other’s heads.   H) Eric’s proposal, and his slipping the engagement ring on Donna’s finger.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – NIGHT   Back to the present, and an extreme close-up on Eric and Donna’s intertwined hands. We see for the first time that Donna has a wedding band on her left ring finger. Slow zoom out as Eric and Donna turn in to face each other.   ERIC: So – how pissed do you think everyone’ll be when we tell them that you’re leaving tonight to study abroad in London, I’m working on moving my pilot program there so I can follow you next semester, and – just to put a cherry on this stupid sundae – we went and eloped right before Christmas?   DONNA: (laughs) Pretty pissed. I think Red might finally put his foot up your ass.   ERIC: You know, he actually did that once.   DONNA: Really?   ERIC: (nods) Iwo Jima. He doesn’t like to talk about it.   They laugh again, then scoot together and kiss. And kiss again. And keep kissing, so passionately that they fail to notice Hyde, Jackie, Kelso, and Fez standing by the patio door.   Donna finally opens her eyes, sees them. She sits up, alerting Eric, who flips around and sees all his scowling friends.   ERIC (cont’d): Oh – hey, guys!   They keep scowling.   ERIC (cont’d): So, um – how – how much of that did you hear?   They keep scowling.   ERIC (cont’d): Well, this is awkward. (beat) Boy, I wish there was some way to take the edge off all this.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   THE CIRCLE. Eric and Donna sit together. Eric takes a deep breath.   ERIC: Edge, you are officially off.   DONNA: (to the gang) I’m really glad I got to see you all before I left for London. And I’m even happier that we didn’t trust any of you bozos with the fact we’re married.   Pan to Hyde, with Jackie in his lap.   JACKIE: Donna, I think it’s so romantic that you and Eric eloped. Plus, this way, there’s no chance your wedding can upstage mine. And you’re my maid of honor, so you’d better be back here for it!   Pan to Kelso.   KELSO: (to Eric, Donna) London, huh? Hey, Eric, you know what you should do when you get over there? You should find one of those guards with the big hats, and you should see if you can make him laugh. And Donna, you should have a camera, so you can take pictures when the guard starts beating Eric up. That way, I’ll laugh.   Pan to Fez.   FEZ: (to Eric, Donna) And while you’re there, you can spit on the palace from me. The British hate my country. That is why the Beatles can kiss my ass!   Pan to Kelso.   KELSO: You know, Fez, you’ve never told us what country you’re from. How about letting us know before the year’s over?   Pan to Fez.   FEZ: Isn’t it obvious? (scoffs) Fine. It’s –   Pan to Eric and Donna.   ERIC: Hold that thought, Fez. You know, guys – this might be the last Circle we ever have together.   Pan to Hyde and Jackie.   JACKIE: Aww... that’s kind of sad.   HYDE: It’s a time for reflection. Like on how many of our brain cells survived the ‘70s. Despite our best efforts, some of those bastards pulled through. But tonight – they’re going down.   Pan to Kelso.   KELSO: Way ahead of you, Hyde.   He pops open a can of beer and takes a chug.   Pan to Fez, who also has a beer.   FEZ:  Die, brain cells, die! And you’re next, liver.   He takes a sip.   Pan to Eric and Donna.   ERIC: It’s like – we always have to remember this moment.   Unnoticed by Eric or Donna, Red appears behind them.   Pan to Jackie and Hyde, in stunned shock.   Pan to Kelso, giggling silently.   Pan to Fez, in fear for his life.   Pan to Eric and Donna, confused.   DONNA: What?   Red bends down so that his head is over Eric’s shoulder, giving Eric and Donna a jump.   RED: (to Eric) UPSTAIRS! Your mother’s pouring the champagne for the countdown, and then you’re all gonna get it!   He storms off. Eric and Donna, stunned, share a look.   ERIC: We’re dead.   He and Donna break up laughing.   The Circle is broken. Everyone is laughing now. They all stand and make for the stairs.   ERIC (cont’d): Oh, hey, guys – last one upstairs has to call Red a dumbass!   The dare set, everyone breaks for the stairs. The girls, Fez, and Eric make it up safely, leaving Hyde and Kelso to wrestle it out. Hyde gets a good hold on Kelso and tosses him back before racing upstairs. Kelso recovers, looks around, realizes he’s lost.   KELSO: Aww, man!   He grabs the stupid helmet and starts a slow, reluctant, petulant march up the stairs as everyone in the party begins the countdown.   COUNTDOWN (v.o.): TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!   TITLE CARD   The THAT ‘70S SHOW license plate, now marked with a 1980 sticker.   FADE TO BLACK   END CREDTIS   INT. VISTA CRUISER – NIGHT   The gang, driving to the airport together in the Vista Cruiser. Eric drives, with Donna next to him and Hyde in the passenger’s seat with Jackie in his lap. Behind them is Donna’s knapsack, then Kelso, then Fez. They all sing along to the radio – “In the Street” by Big Star.   GANG: Past the street light Out past midnight...   JACKIE: Boy, we’re good!   FEZ: We’re really good!   Hyde seems skeptical of that claim, but he, and the rest of the gang, continue to jam to the music.   END.

***

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[dat-town]

CODE Z3RO | CODE 03

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: none summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 5K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms​

➼ Chapter Index

At the peak of dawn, merely a sliver of burgundy illuminating the glass and metal giant, Choego indeed resembled a ghost town. There were no people around, not a single proof of living creatures without the buzzing of a city with cars and pedestrians. Even the flickering electricity disappeared from few sections of the town.

Park Jimin, older son of the Park Genetic Industries’ CEO, was so used to the nightlife of the capital city, he found the calm quietness way too eerie. It was surreal and unnatural and yet, he felt a pang of pride to be one of the first ones to explore its labyrinth. However, he found it rather embarrassing to compete with people who complained about having to wake up without enough of their beauty sleep. That said, he agreed with Jungkook on the missing girl’s case. It wasn’t the younger boy’s fault that Little Miss Perfect took too long to get ready. They were better off without her anyway. It was a competition after all and despite the importance of their team work, it wouldn’t have hurt to get rid off the weakest links. Born into a wealthy and prestigious family, Jimin had always known what he was expected to do: to reach for the stars and achieve more. So it was the perfect opportunity for him to show that he was worthy to be the heir of the company.

“Can someone explain in detail what the hell happened and why we had to leave the dorms?” Hoseok, one of his supposed-to-be roommates groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The group of eleven stood in the middle of the street packed with luggages, staring ahead of the road with dim artificial lights while the other end of the road disappeared into darkness. It was a good question because even though it was quite obvious to anybody that something happened, not everybody could figure out what exactly was wrong. What was the researchers’ plan with all this? Setting the beginning of the simulation in the middle of the night when they were supposed to be sleeping? What would have happened if nobody had woken up? Where were those damned cameras watching each of their moves? And what were they supposed to do without instructions?

“The electricity got cut off in the buildings next to ours and the following ones were those near our dorm building. I guess the simulation tries to imitate an evacuation,” the eldest boy, Seokjin, said and if he was any good in what he was majoring in, they could trust him.

“So we should get out of the city? That doesn’t make sense,” the lilac haired, quite temperamental Taehyung spoke up posing the question that had been on everybody’s mind. But if not out, then what were they supposed to do?

“Do you have any better idea?”

“Okay what about we all calm down and I call dr. Han?” Jimin suggested already fishing out his phone from his back pocket. He didn’t like to stay in the dark for too long. He needed answers and normally he had his own methods to get them. Money and power weren't nice things to take advantage of, yet why wouldn't he use his privilege when he could? 

While Namjoon murmured something like that they should be figuring it out by themselves, Jimin had already pressed call on the lady's contact and waited… fruitlessly as even the annoying beep sound remained silent. He double-checked the signal on his phone and let out a frustrated sigh at the sight of the saturated bars of the icon. “What the hell.”

His disappointed reaction didn't went unnoticed and Hoseok, who stood next to him, raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What?”

“There’s no signal and no internet either in the area like we were totally cut off the outer world,” the boy answered, his fingers twitching to check his emails and social media despite knowing that without internet he wouldn't access anything for now. Even his mobile data was somehow disabled on this land which was ridiculous. What kind of test was it? Lexical knowledge was so outdated and old fashioned. Isn't their analytic thinking and resourcefulness should have been rewarded? However, not everybody agreed with him on this matter. Seokjin for example took the news with a short nod as if it was a known fact. He wasn't the only one.

“Well it’s only fair. They don’t want certain people asking for help from the outside,” Taehyung mumbled under his nose barely audible but certainly loud enough for Jimin to hear it.

“What are you trying to say?” the chaebol guy straightened his back trying to look intimidating as he strolled to the mocking boy of his age. It wasn't the first time he was judged because of his family's influence but this was one of the times the accusation left a nasty taste in his mouth like swallowing a bitter pill. Of course, he knew these people were often just envious of his background, so usually he didn't care about them but under the careful watching eyes of the miniature cameras and the surveillance of researchers reevaluating their every move, he wasn't willing to be ridiculed by somebody who had the manners of a caveman. No wonder why the guy had the strong dialect of Gyeongsang Province.

“Oh nothing. I’m just saying that it might be better this way. Equal chances for everyone,” Taehyung shrugged with a challenging look in his eyes.

Jimin's hands itched to punch him straight on the nose, wipe off that shit-eating grin off his face but he couldn't let himself lose his cool over the stupidity of a rival. As a marketing major, being an expert in manipulating people, maybe it was Taehyung’s ultimate goal from the beginning: to rile up and provoke everybody he could. He was nothing more than a kid with a big mouth from the countryside. Only bark, no bite, Jimin was sure and he was smarter than to play this game.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he stared down at the tanned guy - which was quite bold on his part being the shorter one. Then as arrogant as he could, he took a step back with a huff and turned his back on Taehyung. The others stared at their intermezzo expecting it to blow up and most of them seemed relieved, relaxing their tensed shoulders as they saw nothing extraordinary was going to happen under the dim lights of street lamps so early in the morning.

"Let's not argue, guys, we need to work together," Seokjin said in a parental voice which earned a few eyerolls on the youngers’ part. Even if according to the conservative Korean age system, it was polite and a must-do thing to respect their elders no matter what, Jimin didn't plan on playing the role of the perfect dongsaeng.

"But if we cannot leave the city, then what should we do during an evacuation simulation?" one of the girls with baby face spoke up and Jimin recognized her as the Psychology student from the introduction they did on their way to the dorms.

For a while, her question fell on deaf ears but her patience was rewarded with an answer after a whole minute of utter silence.

“We need to keep moving,” a dark haired figure said quietly but still bringing all the attention to himself. Min Yoongi, the mysterious postgrad student, majoring in some fancy named IT stuff, had a cold demeanor and he certainly didn't get on the good side of anyone present after boosting his own ego at the meeting. But if he was so smart, how could he not have any better idea than ‘to move’?

To be honest, Jimin eyed him quite suspiciously because unlike everybody else the guy barely had anything on him. He only threw a small backpack on one shoulder but nothing else which was stupid, wasn’t it? They didn’t knew how long they were going to be gone or what they would need, so his confidence was either recklessness or arrogance.

“Why?” Hoseok whined trying and failing to suppress a long whine. “Can’t we just stay here and rest a little? Not even the Sun is up.”

“Sure. If you came for having fun, be my guest. I won’t shed a tear when you won’t be one of the chosen candidates at the end of the test,” Taehyung said in a mocking tone and to his own dislike, even if he didn’t voice out his opinion, Jimin had to agree with him. They all came here with a purpose and if the researchers woke them up in the middle of the night, they must have had a good reason behind it.

“Oh you have a big mouth on you, don’t you? Then tell me what the fuck is happening because I’m quite sure you’re just as clueless as the rest of us, Mr. Know It All,” Hoseok had enough of being the clown everybody made fun of and told the younger guy off easily. He was right, kind of. They could only guess the cause, some better than others though.

“The technology behind it is pretty simple,” Jeon Jungkook spoke up in a low voice, almost shy but confident in his knowledge. Of course, he knew. Among all of them there had been three other engineers apart from Jimin whose bioengineering knowledge couldn’t help much in this case. However, this was the time for the others to shine. The chaebol boy hated it, the feeling of being useless and depending on others but he was also keen on cooperating if Jungkook had anything useful to say.

“And will you tell us, Golden Boy?” Taehyung crooked an eyebrow at him, voice sounding harsh and impatient.

“Normally complex security systems similar to this have a timer and every certain minute, it goes off in different sections of the place, so if we assume that the city has districts or any kind of separated areas with different electricity panels, they will turn off one by one. The dorm’s was the last one to go, so maybe where we are right now is the next one. Whoever is controlling this, they can easily guide us anywhere they want to unless we find a city map with the sections and their order to know it beforehand.”

After Jungkook’s explanation, Jimin hummed, considering. The whole situation reminded him of those old escape games he used to play on his father’s computer when he was little.

“What happens to the sections that got turned off?” he prompted.

It was time for Namjoon, majoring in mechanical engineering, to have his part of the conversation:

“Those sections are cut off electricity that’s for sure and since basically everything runs with electricity here, that can be pretty dangerous if you’re in a closed area like a building.”

“But they wouldn’t do anything that could possibly hurt us, right? The researchers don’t mean harm to us,” Joohyun’s lips quivered and she looked cold even in her light blazer pulled over the pretty blouse she wore. She seemed worried about Sooyoung being left behind but even the hypothesis was ridiculous. Who would dare to hurt them? Even if the simulation was discreetly kept as a secret from the country’s common netizens, the whole committee that chose them for these roles, knew about them. And their family - including Jimin’s influential father - were aware of their whereabouts and would never let anything like that happen. “It’s just a psychological test, right?” 

“I guess,” Seokjin nodded with a lazy shrug as his gaze wandered to his little sister. “They test our reactions, skills and boundaries. They want the five best, so they need to push us a little over the edge.”

“This isn’t the kind of test I signed up for to be honest,” Hoseok admitted while scratching his nape. He looked tired already and the day hadn’t even started yet.

“Well, it’s apparently too late to turn back and give up. Or maybe you can just chill out here and wait to see for yourself what happens when this section is switched off,” Taehyung snorted which was nothing new and Jimin realized fairly quickly that the marketing student cannot be trusted. He was obviously here to win, ready to step over anybody in his way.

They kept snickering in hushed voices but the chaebol guy had rather looked around than to pay attention to them. Maybe it was the early time or just the personality of the group’s other members but they were all uncharastically quiet. Wendy almost dozed off on his boyfriend's shoulder a bit, Joohyun and Seulgi stared ahead of them into the distance at the hundreds of glass buildings reflecting the amplitude of light. And there was the journalist girl, too young to even be there in Jimin’s humble opinion, walked around as if she was on a vacation in a museum and even took photos. She was lucky that her brother was with her or otherwise she would have been in quite a trouble without a chaperon. Too young and too naive to think nobody would notice her secretly snapping photos of the youngest engineering student.

Love has no place in a competition, they said and a part of Wendy agreed, sadly. If you were as ambitious as her, you were bound to lose something even if you won. Sure, she loved Namjoon, they had been dating for more than two years now after that fateful frat party at SNU, but she treasured her dreams more. Being here was a huge step towards becoming what she had always wanted to be: somebody in charge of big chances, helping people, being more than a cog in the system. She couldn’t let herself get distracted but at times like this, nerves tense and breathing shallow, she leaned onto her boyfriend.

Namjoon was a kind soul, a big softie who liked to think of everything in black and white. He could talk about the stars for hours and sometimes he lost track of his own train of thought. He built small robots in his free time and once when Wendy’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere, he drove all the way there and spent an hour single-handedly fixing the gears. But in spite of his huge love for physics and the theory of relativity, he loved Wendy more and they both knew it.

That was the root of all their problems. Wendy thought they were too young to settle down, they had time, a whole life ahead of them and she would have been willing to sacrifice a relationship for her career. On the other hand, Namjoon was a hopeless romantic claiming that she was the one for him and he would have given up everything for her.

This competition was a challenge for both of them. They were majoring in so different fields that their application didn’t endangered the other’s and heck, who would have thought that they both make it there? There was such a slight chance and yet, here they were, fighting for one of those five contracts. One for both of them which seemed even more impossible.

“You up?” a calloused hand nudged her shoulder gently and snapped her out of the crazy theories. Namjoon’s voice had always soothed the girl, so she was able to sigh content despite the circumstances.

“Yeah, just needed a breather. I wouldn’t have thought it’d be so hectic already.”

And it wasn’t even that bad. They have done nothing but wake up and leave the building as soon as it was possible. The most difficult part was to cooperate with others. A system’s weakest point was always the human variable.

Namjoon hummed, agreeing and for a few precious moments they could enjoy this soft bubble around them. It was a fragile little thing, bursting out with the first question thrown into the pit.

“What are we going to do now?”

It felt like the million dollar question in a game show and nobody knew the right answer, the one that they should have figured out, earning points by the researchers.

“I’d pay a visit to the main lab. They have lots of stuff there and maybe we will meet somebody there who can help,” Jimin suggested, fingers adjusting the hem of his Gucci shirt. Wendy had to stop herself from snorting. As if the researchers wanted them to seek help. She firmly believed that they were on their own because that would have made it the perfect trial. Trial of what? That was the good question actually.

“Good idea,” another guy supported the cause but the med student also had a reasonable suggestion:

“We need to find food and water, too. We never know when we need those,” she claimed and as the only medical assistance in the team, Wendy felt like she had to think of everybody’s wellbeing.

Maybe if she weren’t so stubborn and earnest, they would have all gone to the center in that instant, but she couldn’t bypass Joohyun’s nervous behaviour. The eldest girl had been pacing up and down like a lot of others not knowing what to do with themselves. However, unlike the others, she was looking around quite panicked, glancing backwards at the dark dorms on the other end of the street. It was enough for Wendy to take actions and pry herself out of Namjoon’s loving arms to rush to the other girl.

“Hey... what’s wrong?” she asked gently, a soft hand on the shoulder, massaging it with reassuring circles. Joohyun’s breathing became irregular and hasty as the panic settled deep in her bones.

“Insulin. I forgot to bring my insulin,” she replied and incoherently mumbled something about putting it into the common kitchen’s fridge the previous day. They still had hours until breakfast time when Joohyun would have to take the insulin shot before eating, but the thought of not having the medicine on her seemed enough to freak her out which made it worse.

“Oh no, why haven’t you told us before?” Wendy sucked in a breath with a little shake of her head. Of course, nobody would go around announcing to have diabetes since none of them had any idea something like this would happen. With one of her hands still rubbing on the shoulder blades of the other, Wendy raised the volume of her voice to call out to the whole team.“Guys, we need to go to the hospital. Joohyun needs medicine.”

“Fuck it, she can just go alone,” Taehyung growled unimpressed without even sparing a glance at the pale girl resembling an eerie ghost under the moonlight.

“Actually we should go. The hospital must have food in the canteen and if I remember correctly it’s not far from the researchers’ headquarters,” Seokjin stepped in to soothe the uptight nerves.

“It’s right next to it,” a soft, quiet voice supplied and a few heads snapped towards the girl with heart-shaped face and almond eyes. Kang Seulgi, as far as Wendy knew, had majored in architecture and was currently continuing her studies in environmentally-friendly architectural engineering. So at least nobody doubt her word.

“Okay, so you wanna split up? Or do we need to vote?” Seokjin who seemed to be good at managing the team work and handling conflicts looked around. Wendy admired him for his collected, calm words and the way he dealt with even the roughest reactions. He was great in damage control and without him they would have been struggling still to get out of a shutdown area. “Great so who doesn’t agree on going to the hospital for food and then checking out the lab?”

Not a single soul protested, not a single hand flew into the air.

In the end, without much commotion, all eleven of them started walking towards the general direction of downtown. Yet, without a map or GPS signal, it took them almost an hour  from the dorms in the residential area to collectively get to the canal dividing the island into two. From the shore at least they could already see the U-shaped building of the hospital and directly on its left, the prestigious building of the researchers.

“We’re here,” Namjoon breathed and pointed at the stocky, glass-walled building with the universal red positive sign of hospitals. Wendy who walked beside Joohyun to keep a careful eye on her looked up relieved.

“Thank god, I really need to pee,” Hoseok let out a sigh and despite the weight of his backpack and suitcase, he jogged ahead to search for a toilette in the building. The two-winged glass door opened as soon as he touched the control panel with his bracelet.

“Nobody wanted to know,” the med student murmured with an eye roll.

Each of them followed Hoseok without precaution into the hospital which was the first open building they found at the break of dawn. Even illuminated by the orange hues of the rising Sun, the city was still so lonely like an empty shell. They all wondered: where were the researchers? Have they gone home into their commonplace houses on the mainland? Or were they in a very different dorm, safe from the turned off electrical circuits? There was nothing like this in their schedule that was placed on their bunk beds. According to that, they had nothing to do until the meeting at nine o’clock.

Inside of the building, they split into smaller groups in search for the canteen, toilettes or just so they can drop off their heavy bags.

“Come on, let’s find insulin for you. Then we can eat,” Wendy nudged the older girl in the side and a slight discomfort settled in her throat as her boyfriend followed them.

“You don’t have to come with us,” she said sulkily like a child angry at their parents for sending a guardian even though they were old enough to be by themselves. That was exactly what she feared when both her and Namjoon’s application was accepted. She needed her own space, the alone time while the boy like physical closeness. He wasn’t touchy but he liked to be there with her even if it didn’t meant for her.

“I know, still I’d like to. But I won’t if you would prefer me not to,” Namjoon’s steps halted and Wendy immediately felt guilty as she looked at the sincerity on his handsome face and heard his genuine voice. She knew Namjoon would always agree to her terms if she voiced them out, but that became a burden after some time. Shouldn’t he have learnt that by now?

“Whatever,” she shrugged and didn’t turn around to watch her boyfriend’s smile fade as she walked towards the pharmacy of the hospital with Joohyun by her side.

Of course, it was closed, like everything normally at 5am, but they didn’t have time to wait for the opening time. Wendy’s empathy was greater than her sense of justice anyway, so she didn’t waste time to climb over the counter.

“What are you doing?” Joohyun questioned furrowing her neat eyebrows.

“Getting you insulin. I won’t wait and sit around. They want us to prove our resourcefulness. Here it is,” the girl flicked her red hair behind her shoulder.

On the shelves there were regular vitamins and medicines, nothing that needed prescription which was understandable. It wouldn’t have been wise to let those be out in the open for everyone to take. The med student’s eyes scanned through the names of the boxes but quickly realized she won’t find the insulin here. Gosh, how could she be so stupid?

“Don’t you see a fridge or freezer?” she asked Joohyun who eventually followed her suite. They were both looking at every corner they could until the psychology major squealed.

“Here.” She squatted down to the small refrigerator hidden under the counter. “It won’t open.”

And she was right. No matter how much they tried to move the metal door it didn’t nudge for god’s sake until…

“Wait!” Joohyun stopped suddenly, looking down at her wrist and the glimmering silver bracelet on it. Lightly she touched it to the small screen next to the fridge and waited. A few moments later the panel displayed Authorification accepted and the door opened with a beep.

Luckily, inside there was the desired insulin to both of their relief and they found syringe right on the next shelf. Injecting the serum was a piece of cake after all this.

“Thank you. Really,” Joohyun whispered, words a bit broken as she looked up at the dishevelled haired girl. Wendy, taken aback by the gesture amidst the supposed to be fierce competition, blinked dumbfounded at first.

“You’re welcome,” she nodded and hoped she wouldn’t have to regret helping her later.

Jimin grimaced at the pre-wrapped food in the hospital canteen. They had found a storage behind the empty stools that opened under the touch of their identifying bracelets but its content couldn’t satisfy the chaebol’s taste. Sure, he knew he wouldn’t get caviar or any other fancy food but sandwiches? Dry waffles and bottled banana milk? What was he, a freaking child?

He forced down a few bites of a ham sandwich just to fill his grumbling stomach with something but deep down he hoped that the evacuation test either ends soon or people start to fill the city with daylight and they can have a normal meal like they did yesterday evening. He had already finished when he saw the cyber tech guy stand up from one of the tables where he had eaten alone and wander down the hallways. It was suspicious enough for him to get up and follow him.

It took a few turns until he managed to catch up and since he wasn’t even trying to be subtle, he was certain Yoongi knew that he was being followed. Yet, the older guy didn’t question him nor he seemed surprised when Jimin spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi looked at him from under his dark lashes. 

“The main nurse desk or the offices. Somewhere in here there must be something about the evacuation plan. They also have to have extra generators and torches,” he said and it seemed so logical. Why hadn’t anyone else thought of that before? And why he didn’t tell anyone about his little plan? Did he intend on getting all the good points for himself?

“I can help,” Jimin offered not wanting to be left out and Yoongi gave him a stern glance. He looked a bit wary but sighed, giving in.

“Okay.”

The two guys followed the maps on the corners of the walls to find the main reception of nurses but looking through the closets, they couldn’t find anything useful. Only when they arrived to the camera control room on the sixth floor, did their pursuit turn out to be fruitful.

“Ah huh,” Jimin remarked as he pulled out a set of torches, batteries from one of the drawers. They also found a huge but not too detailed city map on the wall of which Yoongi took a photo of before he sat down in front of the computer. As soon as it booted up, a nice robotic female voice greeted them.

“Good morning, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin. How may I help you today?”

“How the-” the chaebol wanted to curse as he jumped back in surprise.

“Artificial intelligence, dumbass, we used the bracelets to get in, remember?” Yoongi groaned under his breath and then cleared his throat raising his eyes to the six black computer screens on the wall. “Uh... hello. Can you tell us the purpose of this simulation?”

“Keyword: simulation, purpose. Searching… One search result found within 0.563 seconds.” The computer decoded his question and a few moments later a video footage appeared on each monitor. It played a recording of them from yesterday when they talked to Miss Raina.

“Don’t forget, even though we evaluate you individually, you have to work together in teams to succeed the simulation. Any questions?”

“What is the simulation about exactly?”

“I can’t tell you, sorry. It would change your natural reactions and the results of our research would be false.”

Yoongi sighed.

“We already know that but...”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. There’s nothing more in the database that you can have access to,” the computer interrupted his protest in a calm, soothing voice but it couldn’t ease neither of them. Jimin’s jaw clenched as he watched the whole situation unfold, the still picture of the video of them on the screens.

“Great.”

“Can I help you with anything else?” the strangely real voice asked nicely and the IT guy didn’t even have to think about the next question.

“What’s happening in the city?”

“The main computer is shutting down the sectors one by one. But you have already known this, didn’t you, Min Yoongi? You graduated Computer Science on the top of your class a year ahead-”

“Enough,” said boy hissed and Jimin had to admit: it was scary, that this computer knew so much about them. It must have been in their files for the application but still… What else did it know? Did it have access to their social media, too? Because fuck, then he was screwed.

“Shutting down… Have a lovely day in Choego, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin!” the computer said goodbye because it interpreted Yoongi’s earlier harsh word as an order and just as he wanted to make it more clear (Hey, wait…!), the monitors’ screens changed to live video footage of different parts of the hospital. Currently it showed the others heading towards the eastern wing of the experimental labs in the basement.

“Shit.”

“What? What’s happening?” Jimin leaned closer confused because he didn’t see anything wrong. Yoongi typed on the computer so fast he could barely follow with his eyes.

“The lab room, they are going towards for god knows why, is specially guarded. It has some messed up defence system if they don’t have the right authorization,” Yoongi whispered and the chaebol couldn’t decide what was the scarier: the flashing red exclamation mark on a certain part of the screen or the tremble in the usually collected older guy’s voice. “We need to warn them.”

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 260

Last time, Gotenks said he was out of ki to continue the fight with Majin Buu, so Piccolo did the only sensible thing and destroyed the door to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber.   This had been his backup plan from the beginning.   By leading Buu into the Chamber to fight Gotenks, Piccolo knew he could blow up the door and trap them all inside forever.  

One thing I find odd is that there’s a lot more wreckage left behind in this episode than in the last.     Oh well, with all the artists working on this show, I’m surprised these continuity glitches don’t happen more often.    Anyway, Gotenks is pretty upset about this, because he really did have more power to fight, and only pretended otherwise to make things more dramatic.    He had no idea that Piccolo would be desperate enough to do this.  

Buu, on the other hand, is still trying to sort out the ramifications of this, since he didn’t know the HTC was actually a separate dimension from Earth.   Piccolo has to explain to him that he’s trapped here, and Buu’s first thought is that there’s no candy in this place.

So yeah, we’re only about a minute into this exile, and morale is already low.

Outside, in the temple of Kami’s Lookout, Mr. Popo reports that the door has been “closed off”, but they never actually show what it looks like from this side.   Everyone here just notices a rumble coming from that general direction, and I guess Popo saw for himself, but this is never shown to the audience.

All we really get is this staircase, which I guess must lead to the entrance to the Time Chamber.   That’s kind of a ripoff, if you asked me.    What happened to the door on this side?  I mean, it must be blown to bits, but what’s left where the doorway used to be?   Does the wall just continue across, unbroken?    Did the doorway sort of collapse in on itself, like a black hole?   

While I’m on the subject, it’s weird how the doorway seems to be in a completely different place than it was in the Cell Saga.   Then, the doorway seemed to be pretty close to the outside of the temple, but now, it looks like you gotta work your way pretty far into the building to get to it.   That’s one of those things that’s probably a continuity error, but you can’t entirely rule out the possibility that it’s supposed to be that way.    For all we know, the rooms and passages of the Lookout are constantly shifting and rearranging, like Hogwarts, only Mr. Popo isn’t a shithead, and he actually shows people where everything is instead of leaving them to fend for themselves.

Bulma’s upset to hear that the boys are trapped in the Time Chamber forever.    The Dragon Balls can be used to wish them back out, but that doesn’t change the fact that it came to this.    She blames all the men for standing back and letting children fight the monster for them.    That’s pretty rich coming from Bulma, of all people.   She’s been letting Goku and Gohan fight her battles for her for decades.   And she should, because they were super-duper strong.   She knows how this works.   Ox King, Yamcha, Krillin, and Roshi are four of the strongest humans on the planet, but they can’t even touch Majin Buu, and Bulma knows that.   Chewing them out doesn’t solve anything.

Inside the Chamber, Gotenks admits that he was fibbing when he said he was at his limit, which means Piccolo trapped them all here for nothing.    Piccolo is furious.   Why would Gotenks say something like that if it wasn’t true?!   And Gotenks is angry with him as well.   Why would he take such a drastic measure without warning anyone?    Because you said you were out of power, you little shit!   What’s amazing about Gotenks isn’t that he takes these situations so lightly; it’s that he’s constantly surprised that anyone else would take them seriously. 

While they argue, Buu throws a fit because he can’t have any candy.   

And somehow, his desperate cries open up a portal that leads back to the Lookout.   I never thought about this before, but could this be how the doorway to the HTC was originally created?    Some ancient Kami yelled really loud? 

The whole thing seems a bit convenient to me, but now that I think about it, it’s not like this is any less ridiculous than the notion of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber being here in the first place.   Maybe the boundary between dimensions is unusually permeable here, which made it possible to construct the permanent doorway in the first place.   Buu has just accidentally exploited that.

Anyway, Buu jumps through and makes it to the other side before the hole closes, leaving Piccolo and Gotenks stuck inside. 

The nice thing about all of this is that it does sew up an idea I had always toyed with after the Cell Saga, when the Time Chamber was first introduced.   Instead of using it to train Goku to fight the androids and Cell, why not just lure the androids or Cell inside?   Even if you don’t destroy the entrance, it’s supposed to vanish on its own if anyone spends more than 48 hours inside, so it always seemed more useful as a trap than as a training ground.   Like the Phantom Zone from the Superman mythos.

So it was always satisfying to see that Piccolo had the same idea in this arc, and it’s also satisfying to see why it wouldn’t work.    Given enough time and power, a bad guy could find a way to escape, just like Buu is doing here.   Maybe Cell wasn’t strong enough to pull this trick off, but he’d have unlimited time to train, until eventually he would become strong enough.   Maybe.   The point is that if Buu could do it, it just isn’t worth the risk.   

On the Supreme Kai Planet, Goku senses Buu’s ki immediately, and he wonders what’s going on, so the Elder Kai conjures up a crystal ball and tosses it over to him.   I’m curious if this has some connection to Baba’s crystal ball, but it’s probably just a coincidence.   

So Goku now has a front-row seat to watch Buu eat all of his friends.   

Back inside the Chamber, Gotenks begins to despair, but Piccolo tells him to quit whimpering.   Then he suggests that they yell really loud, just like Buu did.   If it opened a portal for him, then it ought to work for them, too.

Honestly, this just might be one of the most Dragon Ball Z things ever.   Not just the yelling, although that’s a big part of it.    What I mean, though, is that these guys just saw a monster do something impossible, and they’re like “Well, if he can do it, then so can we!”   I mean, that’s nuts.    Buu can liquefy his entire body.    Can Piccolo do that?    Buu regenerated from smoke.   Can Gotenks do that?   But this is no time for such negative thinking.   There’s screaming to be done.

Speaking of desperate measures, Krillin decides to attack Buu in a last-ditch effort to save his family.   He whispers to 18 to hide inside the temple while he keeps Buu busy, but they all know he can’t possibly win.    

In spite of the bad odds, Krillin seems confident that he’ll get wished back to life with the Dragon Balls.    How?   As far as he knows, there’s no one left to beat Buu.    Who’s going to wish everyone back?

So Krillin charges in, and his attack is brilliant, but it’s just not enough.   Buu evades him with ease, and zaps him with his Candy Beam.

And that’s it for Krillin.    For those of you keeping score, this is his third death in Dragon Ball.  If I’m not mistaken, only Chiaotzu manages to tie this record, but that’s still a ways off.    And Krillin dies a fourth time in Dragon Ball GT, if you’re willing to count that.  

The others flee inside the temple, which seems kind of pointless to me.   Buu killed 20% of the population while standing still, so it would be ridiculously easy for him to find them inside the temple.   But where else can they go?   18, Yamcha, Dende, and Videl are the only ones who can fly, and none of them could move fast enough to escape.    The rest of them are trapped on the Lookout.   Krillin probably knew that much when he tried to buy them time.   He knew he would fail and he knew his efforts would be in vain even if he succeeded, but he had to do something.

Even so, the cruelest part of this massacre is that 18 and Marron are literally the very next ones to die after Krillin.  

Somehow, Popo and Dende have already made it up to one of the higher levels of the temple, but they’re only safe for as long as it takes Buu to eat the others.

Then Buu gets sick of deciding which one to zap next so he just fires his Candy Beam in all directions, sort of like the Human Extinction Attack in miniature.   This is one of the most horrific scenes in the series, because the weakest good guys are completely cornered by the main villain, and he has absolutely no mercy.   Unlike Cell or Frieza, there’s no slowing this guy down, no reasoning with him, no chance of bargaining or stalling for time.  

And from the Supreme Kai Planet, Goku can only watch the slaughter unfold.   Gohan isn’t ready yet, Gotenks and Piccolo are apparently lost, and he’s stuck in the afterlife.

For my money, this is the moment when Goku is beginning to regret his plans for safeguarding the Earth.    He bet everything on Gotenks, and now the world population has been reduced to a single-digit number.   Would it have turned out differently if he had been wished back to life after the Cell Games, instead of staying dead for seven years?   Maybe not, but I think he sorely wishes he could go back, moreso than ever before.

Back inside the chamber, screaming hasn’t gotten Gotenks and Piccolo anywhere, so Gotenks decides to use his full power, and Piccolo hits him, because he’s sick of this little turd holding back for no good reason.   

So Gotenks obliges, and...

Hey, what’s good everybody?   GOTENKS CAN TURN SUPER SAIYAN 3.

He doesn’t like the way it looks, though.   Where did he get that mirror?

Piccolo has questions, but Gotenks says he can’t stay in this form for very long, so he finally gets down to business.  He yells really loud...

... and makes an opening they can use to return to Earth.

When Gotenks finally emerges, Goku and the Supreme Kai get their first look at him, and Goku is amazed to see him as a Super Saiyan 3.    Remember, it took him his entire life and seven years of being dead to reach that level.   Gotenks figured it out in under a week.   

But the scene on the Lookout isn’t pleasant.    Piccolo wants to know what happened to everyone else, and Buu explains that he turned them all into chocolate and ate everybody.

Even Bulma?

IT ATE EVERYBODY!

So this sends Gotenks into a rage.   You know, I’d have an easier time believing that if he hadn’t already lost two other parents to Majin Buu before this.   Seriously, Buu killed Chi-Chi less than a week ago from Gotenks’ perspective, and he acted like a total goofball this whole time anyway.   We’re supposed to think killing Bulma is going to light a fire under his ass now?   Pull the other one, it glows in the dark.

Even so, I dig this final still of Gotenks flying towards Buu, looking like he’s Batman or something.    Yeah, he’s a house of fire now, but give it about two minutes, and he’ll go right back to “Butthole Surfer Enziguri” and all that other nonsense he’s been doing.

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Howard.

“No, it’s not obvious at all,” Peggy told him.  HYDRA having a time machine opened up enough cans of worms to fill a grocery store.  They might go back and murder Steve before he could become Captain America.  They might steal the secrets of the atom bombs and deliver them to Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan.  Peggy could probably fill a book with the awful possibilities, and these escaped HYDRA operatives doubtless knew things she didn’t.

“Sure it is,” said Howard.  “All we have to do is go back, and we can stop this from ever happening in the first place.  It shouldn’t be hard.  We’ve got seventy years to do it.”

“Or!”  Toulouse held up a finger.  “You might create the very future you’re trying to avoid!  That happens in movies all the time!”

“I’ve got a headache already,” sighed Peggy.  This was too much to take, even for her – she needed to sit down.  The hotel room Toulouse had gotten them was spacious and nicely furnished, with a sofa and chair at one end, facing a black glass panel mounted on the wall that Peggy could only assume was an extremely pretentious piece of art.  At the other were a pair of enormous beds.  Peggy went and sat down on the sofa, and took a deep breath.

“The first thing to do,” she decided, “is to find whoever’s running the SSR these days.  Toulouse, do you happen to know?”  She probably didn’t.  It was an American organization and Toulouse was British, and anyway, the SSR liked to keep out of the spotlight.  Many people seemed to think it had disbanded after the war.

“There isn’t an SSR anymore,” Toulouse replied  “There was SHIELD, but they’re gone now.  It was run by a guy named Fury, but he’s dead.  Mysterious car accident,” she added.  “Everybody knows it was an assassination, though.”

Peggy frowned, thinking.  “Zola was in SSR custody.  The man we met in there must be from at least a little while in our own future, because he couldn't have gotten away from his escorts to use the machine again... he might even be from a few years ahead.  So we do have to return to our own time, and make sure he doesn't get the opportunity.”  That would be at least a start, although the full ramifications of this would take more time to deal with.  “Do you think you can build a time machine?” she asked Howard.

“Probably,” he said, coming to lean on the sofa from behind.  “But as in the case of the Rift Generator, it'd be much easier just to steal one.”

Peggy nodded grimly.  “So we have to sneak back into that hotel.”

“Why do we have to sneak?” asked Toulouse.  “Daddy owns the hotel.  If I can just get in touch with him and tell him they’re in there, he’ll send somebody to chase those men out and we can just walk right in and use the thing.”  She picked up the slab-phone again.  “Let me ring him.”

“Wait, Toulouse,” Peggy reached out to stop her.  “Are you absolutely sure your father’s not involved in this?  I know that must be a painful question for you…”

“Daddy?  Of course not,” said Toulouse.  “He was promoted to Deputy Prime Minister because he wasn’t involved in the whole HYDRA thing while the fellow he replaced was.  They put him in charge of the investigation committee and the Queen gave him a special honour for it.  If there’s Nazis in his basement he’ll want to do something about it, I promise you.”

That sounded very reassuring, but Peggy still didn’t want to absolutely trust this man she’d never seen.  Come to that, she wasn’t sure she trusted Toulouse, either.  “Maybe don’t mention the time machine part,” she decided.

“I’ll just tell him about the cows,” Toulouse decided.  She entered a number and waited impatiently while it rang.  “Harvinder?  Oh, thank goodness.  I need to talk to Daddy.  It’s an emergency.”  There was a brief pause as whoever she was talking to replied.  “I don’t care if he’s in Honk Kong, Cape Town, or Saskatoon!” said Toulouse.  “This is important.  There is some seriously weird shit going on in the new Piccadilly!”

“I’m going to wash up,” Peggy decided.  It had been a long day, first on dusty roads in the foothills and then sweating in the warm, close environment of the walk-in safe.  She needed a shower.

“Don’t take too long,” Howard said.  “I want to go next.”

Peggy automatically expected a hotel bathroom to be tiny, but this one was huge.  There was an enormous tub, two sinks, a giant mirror, and lots of fluffy white towels.  It looked like a lovely place to relax for a evening, but even if Howard hadn’t asked her to hurry she knew they didn’t have that kind of time.  She therefore limited herself to a shower, though she ran the water scalding hot and washed her hair twice.

She emerged in a thick white robe with another towel around her hair, to find Toulouse had taken out that silver thing she’d been keeping in the walk-in safe and had opened it like a book, propping it on the desk.  One side of it was a sort of flat typewriter, while the other displayed a moving image, and Toulouse was staring intently at it as her fingers flew over the keys.  Howard, meanwhile, was mesmerized by the black glass panel on the wall, which was also showing images.  It was some kind of miniature cinema screen, Peggy realized, showing colour newsreel footage.

“Okay, here we go!” Toulouse announced.  “Good news.  Looks like both of you make it back to the 1940s just fine!  Howard Stark died in a car accident along with his wife in 1991…”

“My wife?” Howard asked, looking over his shoulder in startlement.  “I got married?”

Peggy wasn’t quite shocked, since she’d always assumed he’d have to settle down sooner or later, but it was still a surprise to get confirmation of it.  “Good heavens,” she said.  “Next you’ll be telling me…” she paused, glancing sideways at Howard.  He’d hinted that his own father hadn’t been very good at it.  Would he… she decided not to ask just yet.  “What about me?”

“You’re still alive, but you’re retired,” said Toulouse.  The text on the device in front of her was scrolling past too quickly to follow.  “You were married twice and outlived both of them, had two kids and outlived one of them, too, and helped keep everybody from dying in the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

“Good to know I continue to do my job,” said Peggy.  There was a thought, she realized – if she could find out where her older self was living, she could visit her.  Would that cause a paradox and destroy the world?  Her future self would not appreciate that after a lifetime spent saving it, so best not to go there.  She leaned to take a closer look, but then Toulouse’s little telephone, now lying on the table next to the typewriter device, started playing music.  Toulouse squeaked and grabbed it to put it to her ear, and Peggy had to straighten up in a hurry so as not to be smacked in the face.

“Daddy?” Toulouse asked.  “Oh, finally!  Listen, have I got a story to tell you!  Those men in the basement are not electricians, they’re some kind of weird conspiracy.  They’ve got a machine that’s making cows or something!”  She covered the bottom of the device and looked at Peggy.  “Should I tell him they were locking people in the safe?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Peggy decided.  “The fewer people know we’re here, the better.”  Even if Mr. Sandhill wasn’t a member of HYDRA himself, there was no telling who he might mention the incident to.  Somebody at his hotel company must have suggested to Zola that the men could get in under the pretense of electricians.

Toulouse nodded and put the phone back to her ear.  “No, Daddy, cows.  Yes, moo!  And there’s a car that came right through the lobby windows with no driver.”  There was a short pause.  “No, a car!  Cows don’t need drivers!”

Peggy suspected this phone call would take a while.  She went and sat down next to Howard on the couch.

“The washroom is free,” she noted.

Howard jumped a little – he’d been so wrapped up in what he was seeing on the cinema screen, he hadn’t even noticed her sit down.  “Peg, look at this!” he said, gesturing to the wall.  “It’s a personal theatre!  It can show you all kinds of things.  You can get films, you can get cartoons, newsreels, serials, all in your home!  Toulouse doesn’t know who invented it.  I hope I did.  If I didn’t, when we go back I will.”

The image on the screen showed aerial footage of a large ship, still blackened and smoking from a recent fire, being towed into a harbour not by a tugboat but by some tiny, unidentified object.  It switched, then, to a man who was recognizably a reporter with a microphone, standing on top of a building with the ship visible in the water behind him.  He turned to interview what was either an astonishingly advanced machine or else a man wearing some kind of red and gold armor.

“See that?” Howard pointed to the corner.  “It says live.  We’re watching this as it happens on the other side of the world!  This is in Canada!”

Sure enough, a caption at the bottom of the screen read LIVE: Iron Man tows burning tanker into Vancouver.  The being in the armor reached to remove its helmet.

“You tune it with this,” Howard went on, holding up an object about the size and shape of a candy bar.  He pressed a couple of buttons on it, and the image changed – from the news, to footage of sharks swimming, to South Asian people in fabulous costumes dancing, to a group of men and women sitting arguing in a restaurant.  “This is wild.  I always hoped I lived a long life, just so I could see what the future brings – now here I am, and I get to go back knowing what’s possible and maybe help it along a bit!”  He grinned.

“Here I thought you'd be disappointed in the lack of flying cars,” said Peggy.

“Only a little,” Howard assured her.  “The cars are beautiful, aren't they?  They look like they could fly, even if they don't.”

Peggy thought they were hideous, all streamlining and no elegance, but she didn't say so.  “The washroom is free,” she repeated.

“Oh, right,” he said.  “There’s another robe, right?”

“There is,” Peggy assured him.

He turned off the theatre with a look of honest regret, and went to wash up.  Peggy looked over her shoulder at Toulouse, but the young woman was still on the phone.

“Anyway,” she was saying, “I told the police there was a bomb in the hotel, because I figured they wouldn’t think cows were serious and after that thing in Sheffield they probably wouldn’t believe me if I said there was a conspiracy in the basement…”

Yes, this was going to take some time.  Peggy decided she needed a breath of fresh air.  She got up and went out on the balcony to take another look at the city.

The suite had a large terrace with a private pool, chairs and tables to sit at, and a few small garden beds.  Peggy passed them by and went to lean on the railing, the better to appreciate the view.  It was properly night now, with a half moon hanging low over the city and the whole place glittering with lights.  The last time Peggy had seen London in the dark, it had still been blacked out for fear of German bombers.  Seeing it all lit up like this was strange in itself, but still not nearly as strange as the city itself.  The giant ferris wheel and the towering glass buildings beyond didn’t even look like England, let alone London.  The skyscrapers would have been out of place even in New York.  One had a graceful spiral twist to it, looking rather like an enormous Christmas ornament.  Another resembled a pyramid stretched out to impossible proportions by a funhouse mirror.  They looked like something from the cover of one of those science fiction magazines Agent Penner liked to read.

But there was the outline of Big Ben, brightly lit against the dark sky.  There was the Waterloo Bridge, and if Peggy leaned very far forward she could just see the turrets on top of the Tower.  This was London, certainly, but it was London utterly transformed, the familiar bones wearing a new and alien skin.

This was the first real moment of quiet Peggy had been allowed since this all began in the bunker outside Los Angeles, twelve hours and seventy years ago, and now that she had the opportunity she did her best to try to digest the situation.  The future!  Seventy years was a lifetime – people who’d been small children when she’d left were now on their deathbed.  Most likely anybody she’d ever known was long dead, and from what Zola and Toulouse had said about the SSR and its successor organization SHIELD, there wasn’t even an institution they could go to for help.  A time traveler in the 1940s would have come to the SSR’s attention, to be met with either help or opposition depending on the individual’s agenda.  Who took care of such things in the 2010’s?

“Peggy!” called Toulouse’s voice.

She looked up.  Toulouse was standing in the French doors, waving at her.

“I’m coming!” Peggy said.  She took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself, and then headed back indoors.  She’d had her moment to digest, and now it was time to deal.

Back in the room, Howard was getting out of the shower, and Toulouse was back at her typewriter device, her fingers flying over the keys composing a letter to one of her professors, while at the same time her mouth chattered about their current situation.  “Somebody’s going to collect my things and bring them here,” she said, “so that’s taken care of, and I managed to wear Daddy down.  He’s gonna send Prince to investigate.”

“Prince?” asked Peggy.  Was that the name of a dog?

“Like the Artist,’ said Toulouse with a nod.  “He’s my big brother – my half-brother, to be exact.  His Mum was Daddy’s first wife  Mine was his third.”

“How many has he had?” asked Howard.  For once Peggy was glad he’d said something, because her first question would have been to ask what kind of person names their children Prince and Toulouse.

“Six,” said Toulouse, as if this were quite ordinary.  “Don’t worry, he didn’t behead any of them.  Now,” she went on, “it’s late, so he won’t bother being there until tomorrow.  That means we can get up early, go in, and send you guys back to the 1940s, done!  Then Prince and I can clean up, and Daddy can get another award from the Queen for thwarting a plot against the throne!”  She seemed to think it would be quite simple.

Peggy knew better.  “Once we’re back inside the hotel,” she said to Howard, “can you repeat whatever it is you did in California?”

“I’m not sure what I did in California,” Howard admitted.  “I think there must have been a residual charge in the coils and my touching the wire caused a short circuit.  Once I’ve had a chance to study it, I’ll be able to figure it out.”  He smiled, proud.  “You know me.  The only thing I’m better at than building stuff is figuring out how other people’s stuff works.”

“Then I just hope it’ll be that easy,” said Peggy.  Once they got back, the real work would begin – keeping tabs on Zola, and figuring out what this all had to do with die Glocke.

[curriebelle]

Where Law and Chaos Came From: a D&D History Lesson

I’ve seen a few interesting posts about Dungeons and Dragons alignments that all share two interesting commonalities:

1) They think the two-axis system of Law vs Chaos and Good vs Evil is too restrictive for people who like to roleplay. 2) They try to redeem the two-axis system by redefining Law and Chaos in ways that make sense to them personally.

Good and Evil aren’t usually a topic of debate on these posts - it’s easy enough to play a character as generally doing the right thing or as being a total bastard. Discussion on acts of more debatable morality (e.g. torturing a villain for vital information, killing an innocent person by accident, sacrificing one for the good of all) tends to veer towards whether the action itself qualifies as good or evil, and not whether good and evil themselves need to be redefined. Conversely, I’ve seen Law and Chaos rewritten as Community vs Individuality, Tradition vs Cultural Mutability, Authority vs Anarchy - all interesting ideas that tend to reflect more on the person writing them than the actual purpose of the Law vs Chaos axis.

I’m not saying these people are wrong, but that these players (as well as the fine folks who wrote the 5e Handbooks) are placing too much significance on the purpose or intention of Law vs Chaos. The historical secret is that Law vs Chaos alignment never had any deep meaning behind it - or, at least, it never had any meaning deeper than the Pittsburgh Penguins versus the Vancouver Canucks.

I’ll explain how, but it requires a bit of a history lesson. The idea of Lawful and Chaotic alignments - as well as a number of other cornerstones of Dungeons and Dragons - came from a different game: a miniature wargame called Chainmail. It’s time for a deep dive.

In 1970, before he helped create Dungeons and Dragons, Gary Gygax developed a ruleset for modeling Medieval-Era battles using miniatures. Miniatures were organized into opposing armies, and the modeled battles were long, drawn-out math sessions, preoccupied with calculating distances, damages, casualties and morale. If you’ve ever played or seen Warhammer 40k, it’s a lot like that, except with English Longbowmen instead of Space Marines.

The purpose of Chainmail was to recreate historical battles, and so the gameplay mechanics were painfully precise, with rules for weather, terrain, and siege weapons. Only at the tail end of the Chainmail rulebook, in a tiny ten-page appendix, did Gygax include the rules that would become the basis for all of Dungeons and Dragons. This was the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement.

Even in the Fantasy Supplement, the purpose was still to recreate battles. The second edition of Chainmail - the oldest version I could find, from 1971 - instructs players on how to “refight the epic struggles related by J.R.R. Tolkein...and other fantasy writers”, only suggesting that the player could “create [their] own world” as an afterthought. Chainmail’s fantasy supplement was made so LOTR nerds could re-create the battles of Helm’s Deep or Pelennor Fields, down to the walking trees and boulder-throwing trolls.

Still, a couple of fun details are kicking around in those ten pages. Even back then, fireball and lightning bolt spells were the main tools in the wizards’ arsenals. Dragons and other powerful fantasy creatures could only be hit with magic weapons - an immunity that lingers on some powerful D&D monsters to this day. Even the colour varieties of dragons were introduced here, and they’ve remained largely unchanged for nearly half a century now:

“White Dragons live in cold climates and breathe frost. Black Dragons are tropical and spit caustic acid. The Blue variety discharges a bolt of electricity. Green Dragons waft poisonous vapours--chlorine--at their opponents”

Classic! (I did omit the mottled purple dragon with the poisonous stinger, but those stuck around too - they’re just called wyverns now). 

At the very end of the fantasy supplement, you can find the following list:

I’m not sure why Gygax thought it was “impossible to draw a distinct line between “good” and “evil” here - honestly, this looks like a pretty straightforward good-neutral-evil list to me, but there you are. So Goblins, Orcs, Balrogs and Dragons are CHAOS, and Hobbits (who became Halflings later once copyright started getting huffy), Heroes, Ents and Magic Weapons (?) are LAW. Wizards can be either LAW or CHAOS; Elves are neutral (but kinda lawful sometimes); and apparently there are Super Heroes in the Lawful camp (Gygax describes them earlier as “like Conan”.)

The purpose of dividing these units into Law or Chaos is not to dictate how they are played, but what team they will play for in the conflict. That’s why I made my hockey analogy earlier: all Law and Chaos defined back then was what team you played for. So, by these rules, if you were building a Lawful Army and your buddy built a Chaos Army, you would both be able to add wizards to your team, but your buddy would have exclusive rights to dragons. You’d be able to add magic weapons, but your buddy couldn’t. Moreover, if you decided to hold a fight in a forest full of pixies and werewolves, you would actually roll off to determine which side those Neutral creatures would join. 

If Law and Chaos did have any deeper meaning in this context, it sometimes dictated how the units behaved. Units of orcs would attack other units of orcs if they failed an obedience check; dragons, being “evil and egotistical”, always had to attack the biggest, most badass targets first. With rules like that, commanding those armies would be more ‘chaotic’, while the lawful side could generally be trusted to obey the commands of the player.

So at worst, the Chainmail law vs chaos axis is a purely logistical division that dictates which units get to join which teams; at its most #deep, it characterizes the combat behaviour of some military units. I think this is probably also the source of D&D racism, e.g. “all orcs are chaotic evil”. That’s a rule that makes much more sense when you’re trying to divvy up the teams in an extremely complex wargame, because you’re looking at orcs en masse, and you’re not too interested in the personalities of individual units.

So, the alignment system does make some sense in Chainmail, where it originated. Here’s where I show you exactly how much influence Chainmail had on D&D and how it struggled to transfer this concept of alignment in a meaningful way.

The “first edition” of D&D - at least the one most of us would recognize as D&D - is officially called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. That’s the 1977 version in which players create an adventuring party. (It’s called “Advanced” because a “Basic” edition was also released, strictly for levels 1-3). There was actually one other, earlier edition of D&D, which was released in 1974. It was intended to be another Chainmail expansion, so much so that you needed the Chainmail rulebook to play it!

I’m going to ignore that edition, though, since 1) it’s pretty hard to find the rulebook,  2) AD&D was where the game found its own identity anyway and 3) The AD&D handbook is hilariously bizarre, especially when dealing with player morality.

You might know of some of the weirdness of AD&D alignments already. For example, certain classes had to be certain alignments. Paladins were always lawful good; druids were always true neutral. Assassins were automatically evil, and thieves could not be good. Weirdly enough, all monks were lawful - I guess because they adhered to the traditions of their vaguely-east-asian dojos. (By the way, this means that everybody’s favourite Feather Leather Fashionista, Vax’ildan the dual-classed Rogue/Paladin, is a mechanical impossibility in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.)

It’s easy to see how this move was just an ungainly step forward from Chainmail. Again, this is Gygax telling you what teams your characters must play for - what armies they would join if this were a Chainmail game - without recognizing that the need for an alignment system has basically vanished. We're not picking our fantasy kickball teams anymore; everyone is on the same team, adventuring together, and all an alignment system becomes in that context is a hindrance.

And oh was alignment ever a hindrance in AD&D. Each alignment was a moral code of sorts, but it was also a language. Chaotic Neutral characters shared a language that only Chaotic Neutral characters could understand. Assassins could learn to speak other alignment-languages as they leveled up (or Druidic, if they wanted to be nerds I guess), but if you changed alignment in any way you would lose access to your previous alignment language. This makes absolutely zero sense. Worse still, if you committed an act that didn’t fit with your alignment, it would screw you over mechanically. If a paladin ever willingly committed an evil act they straight-up lost their healing powers and become regular fighters FOREVER. Even if they did something a little bit chaotic, they lost their powers until they could pray the cray away with the help of a lawful good cleric. The book even vaguely suggests that alignment shifting in other classes be met with “great penance”. You’re not allowed to be an assassin again until you do enough poison murders! We’re taking your poison away!

The book describes each individual alignment, but not with any subtlety. This is long before the game itself grasped that the most fun part of tabletop roleplay is the roleplaying, and alignment rules still seem to recall the behaviour of army units rather than the behaviour of individuals. Chaos - as is usually the case - is the alignment that suffers most. The Chaotic Good description gets a nice Robin Hood-y bent, the Chaotic Evil one is the “carnage is good” mantra you’d expect - but here’s Chaotic Neutral:

“Above respect for life and good, or disregard for life and the promotion of evil, the chaotic neutral places randomness and disorder. Good and evil are complimentary balance arms. Neither are preferred, nor must either prevail, for ultimate chaos would then suffer.”

Leaving aside the misuse of the word “complimentary” (you’re looking for complementary, Gygax) and the poorly-structured first sentence - yeah, that’s what the big secret of Chaos is, apparently. It’s not rebellion or individuality (which get championed in the Chaotic Good description), it’s pure, unadulterated, dice-rolling randomness. “Fuck it” made manifest. Don’t think about it too hard, because it doesn’t make any sense, and it will take you down a (fittingly) chaotic wormhole of self-contradiction. 

Lawful Neutral and True Neutral are weird, too. Both are described as pursuing the absolute harmony of the word, but like...you know, in different ways. There’s also a bizarre association between goodness and beauty. “Life and beauty are of great importance”, says the Lawful Good blurb. Does this mean that Delilah Briarwood, Wildemount’s hottest necromancer, is Lawful Good after all? shucks.

It’s pretty clear that AD&D is the awkward gangly phase between wargaming and genuine tabletop roleplay, with lots of weird vestigial features and obnoxiously pedantic mechanics that would later be dropped. For some reason, despite the fact that it never made sense to begin with, alignment wasn’t one of those mechanics - or at least it tended to vanish as a mechanic and then come back again in later editions, slightly different but never fixed. This led to another awkward gangly phase at the turn of the millennium, when D&D rules were adapted into games like Baldur’s Gate or Planescape Torment. Alignment creates fallacies and failures everywhere in those games. If you play Evil in Baldur’s Gate, the game can become basically unwinnable, as NPCs begin to attack you on sight. The way to bond with the Chaotic Neutrals in Planescape Torment is to literally spout gibbering nonsense at a man on the street until he barks at you. Even on Critical Role, with its 5e gameplay and extremely talented dungeon master, alignment feels like an arbitrary interloper rather than an important part of the game. Percy stays Good even after torturing a teenager, but Vex goes Neutral for stealing a broom. Nobody in their right mind would believe Fjord is Lawful Good because of his deception and warlockery, but he technically hasn’t violated the LG handbook so far. 

So because of these repeated failures to use alignment in a compelling way, I see a lot of people hunting for the right way to do alignments, the right way to understand chaos, law, neutrality and the like. They want alignments to fit. But they never did fit. The truth?

Two-axis alignment is stupid, and it always has been.

Honestly, I don’t see the benefit in remedying two-axis alignment as a system. I have my own re-interpretation of chaos that I like fairly well, and I’ve seen a few compelling ones, but I also think that alignment could use a complete makeover. There are some fun examples of morality systems that I’m sure DMs could experiment with, if they so wished. 

You could steal from Ultima IV, for example. The Ultima series was a product of the early days of the computer/tabletop romance - and by early I mean 1980s early. Ultima IV does not use the alignment system: instead, it lets the player ‘train’ in eight virtues to achieve ultimate avatar awesomeness. The virtues are Honesty, Compassion, Valor, Justice, Honor, Sacrifice, Spirituality, and Humility, further divided into the camps of Truth, Love, and Courage. Maybe angels of each of those virtues have corresponding devils (Deception! Cruelty! Cowardice! Injustice! Dishonor! Greed! Blasphemy! Pride!). That could be one way to play with morality without worrying about chaos or law.

I’m also a fan of Pillars of Eternity’s spectra of dispositions, which fit loosely into pairs (not necessarily good or evil pairs, mind you). Benevolent or Cruel, Stoic or Passionate, Honest or Deceptive, Clever or Rational, Diplomatic or Aggressive. Heck, those remind me of the personality sliders in the Sims. What were those again, like - Grumpy/Nice, Playful/Serious, etc?

Those trying to give alignments the benefit of the doubt often suggest that alignments were created to help people roleplay. That’s not...entirely untrue, it’s just misleading. They were created to help people make gameplay decisions, but they were pulled from a different kind of game altogether. It’s like trying to play checkers with chess pieces, and it always has been. The D&D alignment system doesn’t work for D&D because it wasn’t designed for it - it was designed for wargaming. We probably should have just chucked the whole thing instead of enshrining it in nerd culture, but it’s too late for that. Still, our creative energy now would be better spent on a new morality system that actually gives us a thing or two to think about.

[mst3kproject]

K11: Humanoid Woman – Part I

The original title of this film in the USSR was the Latin Per Aspera ad Astra, which translates roughly to Through Hardships to the Stars.  It’s a phrase that has inspired a great deal of art and poetry, some of which I will be reblogging as bonus material.  The movie is two hours long, and I’ve never seen it even on MST3K, so I have no idea what to expect.  Knitting in hand, snack at fingertips, here goes.

A group of cosmonauts discover an unidentified spacecraft, apparently abandoned.  They stop to check it out, and find evidence of an unknown catastrophe that seems to have killed all the creatures on board – except for one, who had time to get into a spacesuit.  The crew’s first contact specialist, Sergei Lebedev, takes this survivor back to Earth with him to stay with his family.  Niya, as they call her, begins to remember flashes of a polluted and hostile world and of a cruel creator, while the humans discover that she not only has frightening telekinetic powers, there appears to be some kind of control circuit implanted in her brain.

When ambassadors from her home planet of Dessa arrive on Earth, Niya stows away on the ship taking them back to their homeworld.  She and the humans arrive to find Dessa almost entirely devoid of life and run by a corporation selling gas masks and bottled air. After some research, the Earthlings discover a way to clean up the planet’s atmosphere, but the CEO of the gas mask company, the greedy and callous Turanchox, will stop at nothing to maintain his stranglehold on Dessa.  Niya’s powers, which her creator intended would save the planet, may just be what he needs to destroy her companions. He just needs to find the control circuit.

This is a complex film with a hell of a lot to say and a lot for me to get my analytical teeth into, so I’ve decided to stretch this review out into two pieces.  This week I’ll discuss Per Aspera ad Astra as a movie with effects, performances, and so forth, and take a look at its worldbuilding and storytelling.  Next week, I will delve into the movie as a piece of Soviet propaganda.

The Russian movies that appeared on MST3K tended to be better than they’re given credit for (probably the really bad Russian movies were never exported to the west in the first place) and Per Aspera ad Astra is not an exception.  There are parts of it I absolutely love.  The worldbuilding in particular is beautifully done, with small moments used to establish big pictures.  When the cosmonauts in the opening scene find a strange vessel in space, they are able to look it up in a catalogue and find no matches for it – this tells us eloquently and with no clunky dialogue that this is a future in which we’ve had contact with multiple civilizations among the stars.  The utter everydayness of space travel is established by having a spaceport that looks and sounds just like a modern airport, and makes the audience marvel at the fact that here in the twenty-first century, humans have learned to fly and no longer think anything of it.

The special effects are lovely.  They’re not perfect, but they’re good enough, and their purpose is to tell the story rather than to make the audience go, “wow!”  The composite shots aren’t great, but the miniatures are nice.  Planet Dessa is just a bunch of industrial sites filmed through an orange filter but it gets the idea across.  Niya’s powers are edited with abrupt cuts and tight focus, which make them feel jarring and out of place – later, when we see her on Dessa, the edits are smoother because this is where she belongs.  The only thing that’s really bad is the octopus alien in the tank, which gets worse the closer we look at it. It looks like a dude with a sheet of latex draped over him, which is of course exactly what it is.  A puppet would have been way better.  This creature is irrelevant anyway, being nothing but intrusive comic relief – though the scenes with Vasily the cat are actually pretty funny.

The best effect in the movie are the zero-gravity sequences, which are magnificent.  They’re the equal of anything in Gravity or Apollo 13, without any computer trickery or the need to film in freefall – instead, they’re done in a neutral buoyancy tank, like the one NASA uses to train astronauts.  The ingenious thing is that the only zero gravity environment in the film is on the dead spacecraft from Dessa, which has no power and is full of dust and debris from the explosion, which naturally makes it look smoky and dim… as if it’s all underwater!  Something that could have been an obvious trick actually adds to the atmosphere instead.

There’s an interesting escalation of the sci-fi elements in this film. For most of the first half of the movie we’re on the Lebedev family’s estate, which is a peaceful and pastoral place. All the farm work is done by robots, but the only robot we see is the amusingly humanoid one that serves as a butler of sorts, and there’s very little to tell us we’re actually two centuries in the future.  Later, the speculative elements increase in importance, as we meet the octopus alien and go back into space, and finally Dessa itself, with its orange sky and its monsters, is something that could only exist in a sci-fi movie.  No matter how weird and esoteric this movie gets, it’s all rooted in the ordinary. The fact that we spent so much time with normal people on Earth reminds us that there are normal people everywhere – even on dying planets and ocean worlds of octopus aliens.

Roger Ebert once said of My Big Fat Greek Wedding that everybody in it looked like a real person – that this was not some alternate universe in which Anne Hathaway is considered awkward and nerdy.  Per Aspera ad Astra is like that, too. Even characters who are supposed to be attractive, like Sergei’s son Stepan and his friend Selena, are very ordinary-looking by Hollywood standards.  Thus they should be: this is a story about normal people doing what their world considers to be normal things.  The various crew members on the spacecraft look tired and occasionally bored or frustrated by their duties, as people would when this is just their nine-to-five. The workaday feeling of the people and places, the functionality of the sets and the costumes, remind me of Alien – this world is science fiction to us, but not to the people who live there.

It’s hard to judge performances in a language I do not speak, but I was very impressed by Yelena Metyolkina as Niya.  She is physically perfect for the part, with large eyes, fair colouring, and a slim, bony build that make her look a little alien to begin with.  Throughout the first part of the movie Niya is almost totally mute, but Metyolkina makes that silence speak volumes: we see that Niya is afraid of her own powers and overwhelmed by the abundance of life all around her on Earth.  She imparts her emotions through tiny twitches of her face and body.  When we first meet her, she does very little but sit in a chair with her knees tucked up to her chest – as she opens up emotionally, she also opens up physically, permitting herself to move around and take up space.  Later, when she is frightened or vulnerable, the curled posture returns.

It’s really remarkable how much her appearance changes when she starts wearing wigs.  She still looks odd, but the simple presence of hair softens her quite a bit and you can believe she would blend into a crowd in ways she wouldn’t with the buzz cut that is apparently natural to her.  Even with the wig on, though, Metyolkina manages to include moments that remind us Niya is not an earthling and will never quite fit into this world, no matter how much she learns.  She can act human, but it really is just an act.

The movie also does an excellent job of portraying equality between the sexes.  We meet several women and all of them are respected as the intellectual equals of the men.  Dr. Ivanova is an authority in her field and while Sergei argues with her about how Niya should be treated, he bows to her insistence on security features for his home, and allows her to study Niya’s brain and the cybernetics in it.  Only once does he say something disrespectful, and she immediately calls him on it and makes him apologize.  Sergei’s mother is an obstetrician, also well-regarded and with her services in high demand.  Stepan’s friend Selena is a bit of an annoyance with her crush on him, and says some insensitive things to Niya, but she is not the empty-headed ditz cliché would demand.  The only place where there’s an obvious inequality is in the all-male spaceship crews.

On all these many levels, Per Aspera ad Astra is an absolutely beautiful, well-made, and thoroughly enjoyable film.  I admit that I probably think it’s better than it is because I’m comparing it to all the many bad movies I watch, but I was absolutely enthralled by the visuals, the story, and the complex and conflicted character of Niya.  I think this is most likely why MST3K never re-visited Humanoid Woman the way they did some of the other KTMA films.  There’s just not that much to make fun of.

At least, not until we get into the meaning of this story.  Unfortunately, when that happens Per Aspera ad Astra starts to get really preachy – like, Avatar levels of preachy.  Stay tuned for next week, when I will attempt to unpack the Soviet side of Cold War Propaganda.  It’s just as annoying as the American one, even when it looks prettier.

[ruthjumbo54-blog]

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[redshirtontherock]

Kind of dug my heels in on a discussion with someone tonight and it’s still eating me.  I stuck to my guns on the subject and I’m glad I did but anxiety is running a mile with it right now.  I’ve been trying all night not to let it bother me - especially since objectively I know there are way bigger things on my plate right now.  My family just changed our whole agreement for me potentially getting a student loan at the last minute and while...it’s still going to be possible for me to do this, there’s less of a safety net and I’m gonna have to be way more careful and frugal than before.  Like way more. 

I’ve been telling people this gets me half of what I was hoping for but the reality is based on the amounts I’d been talking to the bank about at first the reality is closer to a third or a quarter.  This was the last piece of a plan I’ve been putting together for months and at the very last minute my family decided to change everything around on me and now I’m kind of stuck trying to figure out where to go from here.  And it scares the hell out of me because now if I don’t zerg rush the last year of my degree and get right into graduate studies, I’m fucked.  Not like “well, this is a setback” fucked but “well, I guess I have to move back in with my parents in Ontario and throw myself to the mercy of my family to sustain myself for the foreseeable future” fucked.  “Game over” fucked.  I’ve been working my ass off for years to get this degree done and put my life back together or on a track that I’m happy with and in the long run this could potentially destroy all of that.  And I’ve known that sooner or later along this process I was going to have to start taking risks but this throws everything into borderline chaos now.

If they had just stuck to the plan this would all have been fine.  Their excuse of course was that they didn’t like dealing with the banks, which is 110% crap.  It’s either that they didn’t trust me enough to co-sign, or if it was their experience with the banks then it’s that I’m not worth the time for them to invest in this process.  Maybe because they’re scared I’ll screw them over or that I won’t be able to pay back my loans.  And because they weren’t upfront and didn’t change their story until the last minute, I’m screwed out of giving two weeks notice at my existing job, and probably screwed out of any alternative other than accepting the smaller amount they’ve offered to lend me directly.  I’m more or less maneuvered into a position now where the only way I can make this work is by accepting the limited help that they’re extending me, which is enormously frustrating in its own way.  The whole point of doing it this way is that I didn’t want to have to put any financial strain on them or to have to affect them directly - if they had just signed the damn piece of paper, this would have been fine.  I didn’t want anything from them!  I wasn’t asking them to do anything but co-sign on the damn loan, and instead of doing what they said they’d do now I have a fraction of the resources I was supposed to have going into this next year, where I’m only going to have part-time RA work to keep myself afloat.  Weeks worth of preparation and work is down the toilet and I’m actually in worse shape now than I was when I started out.

I just don’t like confrontations.  I don’t like arguments, I don’t like having to do that.  And like...it’s different if it’s a discussion class or something related to work or school where I can keep myself emotionally in check better but...today I’ve had to talk to my parents and get the rug pulled out from under me, and I’ve had to talk to a friend who just...felt like they no matter what I said or did they were looking for a fight.  Over something that...doesn’t have any real or tangible impact in our lives for the most part, about things that happened years ago.  And I hate arguments like that, where it just...doesn’t need to happen.  And not even because I said they were wrong, but because I said that I wasn’t going to condemn someone I know first-hand over things that I’ve only heard second-hand.  It just leaves everybody feeling terrible. 

And now I’m split between wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut but also being salty at the person I argued with earlier because this didn’t need to happen tonight.  They just had to talk shit about someone’s who’s been an acquaintance and friend for years today.  It couldn’t have waited just another twenty-four hours after everything else that went down today.  Like, I still would have been intervened and it still would have been stressful for me, but why the hell did it have to be today?

Like...if it’s in a scholarly setting and I have my sources and evidence I can argue for days.  Personal stuff just...drains me.  It eats me alive, and just makes me feel even more like I want to crawl into a hole and not come out again.  And right now I’m reaching a point where I don’t want to see my family, my friends, anybody.  With like...very few exceptions right now.  I can pretty much count on one hand the people I want to be around for any pronounced length of time anymore.  I don’t deal well with confrontations or fights and it doesn’t help that my anxiety over the last few weeks has been through the roof because of work stuff and trying to get loans sorted out.  I’m just not good dealing with people or emotions in general.  I am shit at dealing with any and all feelings.

I mean, I’ve gotten a little better at it but I’m...still just a flighty, evasive, nope-ing bitch and I just want to be left alone.  It’s why I try not to get into anything with my family or friends like this.  I can’t be objective, I can’t deal with it.  I just want to be left alone to study history, learn, write papers, make a difference, paint my miniatures, spend with my best friend, do RP stuff, eat, have good times with the found-family friends I’ve made for myself, and eventually die here.  Thank fuck I’m not a space elf, or after I was dead they’d be shoving me into a spirit stone and back into a wraithbone mech, and then I would never be free of this bitch of an earth and its bullshit.  I’m doing my best.  I’ve been trying for years to just keep building up and get better and get stuff figured out and this month it feels like I’ve just been sliding farther and farther backwards.

It’s...just been a shit day.  And I’m trying to stay upbeat and positive and not let things push me back into the dark place I’ve been trying to crawl out of lately, but it’s really been a shit day, in a shit month, and everything just sucks.

[theas-bedtime-stories]

Wild Mountain Thyme

Request: "Can you do a part two to A Bedtime Story with Uncle!Dean ? Maybe she gets a nightmare (...)

Summary: Dean and Cas are left to babysit little Odette while Sam and Reader go out of town, there’s Disney, a guitar, and a complication; the average Friday night at the bunker.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Implied Dean x Castiel

Word Count: 1,703

Warnings: Dean singing!

A/N: There is a song in this, if you would like to listen to the version I used as reference (sung by Jensen Ackles) whilst reading that section then here is the link.

Slowly Dean rises to his knees with Odette perched upon his shoulders, her fingers clutching his hair tight. Sitting back on his heels he imitates a buzzer as he lifted his right index finger beside his ear, “Press the button” he instructed, giggling Odette tapped her finger to his. Her Y/H/C falling in front of her face as Dean wiggles his torso before letting himself fall on his back, throwing Odette to the bed. She lays there for a second, laughing with her hands by her head, before she is begging for him to do it again. Burying his head into the duvet, Dean prepares himself so that his niece can climb aboard once again. On his way up he notices you leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed and a warmth in your eyes, instead of stopping he once again brings his index finger to be level with his ear. As soon as Odette presses ‘the button’ Dean announces “Going Down” before he flips around, landing on his back.

“Dinner’s ready kids” You declare before heading back to the kitchen, leaving the sounds of your brother-in-law protesting behind you.

Strolling into the kitchen with Odette sat on his left arm, whilst the other is wrapped across her chest to keep her secure, he lifts her up so that she is at eye level with her giant of a father. She promptly proceeds to grab his cheeks in both hands as she kisses him on the nose, squealing as Dean places her in her high chair. As they sit down to eat, Dean begins to Shovel down his steak, taking a swig from his beer with food still in his mouth. You purse your lips out of amusement and disapproval, watching the more civilised of the brothers, your husband, taking sips of water in between bites.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Odette pushing her miniature meal around the bowl, using her fork to make a small pile of peas and mash up the baby potatoes. “O, don’t play with your food sweetie, it’s bad manners.” She pauses, eyebrows furrowed as she processes what you just said, you can hear the cogs whirring, she truly is her father’s daughter. After looking at her uncle and then her dad, he eyes meet yours, staring steadily at you she picks up her fork again; bringing it down on top of another potato quarter.

“Odette Mary Lucille Winchester. Do not look at your mother that way…” Sam warned.

“But it’s not fair!” Your daughter huffed back, arms across her chest, pouting.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dean trying desperately to stifle the laugh which was rising in his throat due to his niece looking identical to her father when he was younger and her mother, you, when you first met the brothers.

As Sam was in the middle of explaining how he knew it wasn’t fair but it was just what society requires and everybody must do it, including adults, when Odette thrust her fork in Dean’s general vicinity.

“But Unca Bean does it!” she accused, cutting Sam off as his explanation became more of a ramble.

The look of utter betrayal in the green eyes that stared back was almost comical, especially as your brother-in-law’s hand flew to his chest; feigning shock. He completed the look with his lips forming a small ‘o’.

After a short pause, he retaliates with one of his famously quick-witted ripostes. “Well… erm… Listen to your mother!”

As soon as your back is turned Dean proceeds to stick his tongue out at Odette as she gives in and attempts to correct her poor manners. As though he were waiting for the conflict to resolve, Castiel appears beside Dean with a hand on his shoulder making the poor man jump; smacking his knee on the table. Throughout the rest of dinner, you focus on feeding Odette as she loses interest in using her cutlery – having the epiphany that to use one’s hands with one’s food allows one to not only eat more at once – Sam and Castiel discuss babysitting plans and instructions whilst Dean remains worryingly quiet; you remain ignorant to the faces he is pulling behind your back to make his niece laugh. Every time you turn to look at him, certain that he is guilty of sending Odette into fits of giggles, he puts on his poker face as he nods along to what his brother is saying.

Soon it was nearing 6 o’clock. “Come give Daddy a kiss, me and Mummy need to go see Nanna and Grampa” Sam says, crouching till he is eye level with Odette. Throwing her arms around his neck, she shakes her head, begging him not to go.

“I need you to do something for me O” He says prying her arms of him so that he can hold her tiny hands in one of his. “I need you to be good for Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas. I need you to look after them and make sure Dean goes to bed on time.”

“Do you think you can do that for me?” He asks, searching her eyes.

As she nods determinedly tears begin to fall from her eyes. “That’s my girl” he hums whilst he uses his thumb to wipe away a stray teardrop that is slowly sliding down her cheek.

Standing back up he rustles her hair with a smile before allowing you to say your goodbyes. Holding her tight your whisper into her ear that age old promise to be there when she wakes up in the morning, even though it will only be a phone call you will still be ‘right there’. Resting your hand on her heart, she places her hand on top of it so that she can remember your touch in the morning.

The only light to be seen in the bunker was the soft glow of Odette’s nightlight which Dean had forgotten to turn off after he had tucked her in bed. The poor girl had been so determined to stay up till midnight watching movies with her uncles but she had fallen asleep, somewhere between the end of Tangled and the middle of The Little Mermaid, her head on Deans chest. He had picked her up and carried her to her room, she only stirred once to place a gentle kiss on his chin as he placed her on the pillow. In his state of fatigue, he had forgotten to turn the angel shaped lamp of before heading to his own room due to the seductive call of his dreams.

Arms and legs thrash around, tangling themselves in the warm material that was attempting to restrain them, blonde hair stuck to the drenched forehead of its owner, Odette’s once ‘Pink Champagne’ pyjamas were now a deep crimson. Waking with such a start that she ends up knocking her head on the edge of her bedside table, breathing heavily she runs to Dean’s room, rubbing the top of her head, bursting through the door which shocks him enough to warrant a gun being whipped out from under his pillow and pointed at the dishevelled four-year-old.

“Jesus O! I could have shot you! Don’t you know how dangerous it is to sneak up on me?!” He lectures between deep breaths, hands on his hips. Unable to hold up the strong façade, she bursts into tears.

“Crap” Dean mutters as he pulls her onto the bed beside him. “I’m sorry O, I didn’t mean to sound angry, I promise I am not angry with you I was just scared.” Tears continue to pour down her cheeks as she buries herself under his arm. “Oh baby. What’s wrong?” He asks as he begins to stroke her hair.

“Nightmare” She squeezes out with a sniffle.

“Want Uncle Dean to sing you a song?” He suggests, picking up his guitar pre-emptively.

She nods furiously, drawing the duvet over her tiny frame, the tears still falling but at a slightly slower rate. Tugging at her Uncles sleeve to make sure he is paying attention; she gently asks him to sing “the mountain song”. Smiling he begins to strum.

Oh, the summer time is coming

And the trees are sweetly blooming

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather

Will you go, lassie, go

And we’ll all go together

And the wild mountain thyme

Blows around the blooming heather

Will you go lassie, go

Odette’s ragged breathing softens as she shuts her eyes tight, clenching her fist around the material of Dean’s shirt.

I will build my love a bower

On yon clear and crystal fountain

And on it I would place

All the colours of the mountain

Will you go lassie, go

And we’ll all fall together

And the wild mountain thyme

Blows around the blooming heather

Castiel, who had been sat in the kitchen due to his niece’s instructions, appeared in the doorway after hearing the unmistakable dulcet tones emanating from the oldest Winchester’s room. Scooping the doe-eyed child into his arms before sitting beside Dean, leaning against the headboard.

If my true love were gone

I would surely find another

And to her I would sing

Things that make her know I want her

Noticing the dried salt tracks which ran down his niece’s face Castiel kisses the top of her forehead as Odette struggles to stop her eyes from fluttering shut and staying that way.

Would you go, lassie, go?

And we’ll all go together

Where the wild mountain thyme

Grows around that blooming heather.

Enveloping Odette in his wings, Castiel begins to gently rock her, fully aware that the song is coming to an end. Dean’s voice is becoming softer, his chords becoming lighter, as he prepares to make a silent exit to go sleep in his brother’s room for the night.

Would you, go, lassie, go?

Drawing out the final note, carefully removing his weight from the bed, Cas nods to Dean ‘yes I am okay to stay like this tonight’. Grateful, Dean takes one last look at the gentle rise of the now dreaming toddler, whispering the family promise before heading out.

Tags: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @aiaranradnay, @rosey-persephone, @the-petite-lion, @fairy-kill3r

[kujo1597]

Actually, That Was a Good Thing

A nice visit was slightly spoiled by some troubling news. Peridot's mother knows what town Peridot lives in. The possible return of her mother weighs heavily on her mind. But she can’t let everybody worry about her. She’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

And if fate decided to have mercy, if she gets to it.

So Peridot decided to just act as if everything’s normal and her and Pearl even made plans to have tea together.

That’ll be nice.

You can also read this on Archive of Our Own.

Chapter 7

Silver, just like hers.

The day started like every other, wake up, eat breakfast, shower, change, apply lotion, and now Peridot has to do her hair.

She looked in the mirror and the possibility of her mother coming to town made her resent their strong resemblance for the first time in a while.

 “Maybe I should switch to brown mascara...”

One of the good things to come of the fire was the reduced resemblance, the burns on her face do throw things off a bit.

But at the same time, the eyes, nose, jawline, and figure were so similar.

Like a miniature version of her.

Peridot took a breath to push the thought to the back on her mind.

No sense dwelling on it.

She picked up her comb and hairspray and got to work.

The out-there hairdo helps too.

Peridot joined Pearl for afternoon tea as everybody else played on the beach.

“Here you go,” Pearl handed a cup of tea to Peridot.

“Thank you.”

Things were still a bit awkward between them.

“So Peridot, what have you been up to?”

“I’ve just been doing freelance work as a programmer,” Peridot replied. “How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve just been raising Steven, I make ends meet by repairing electronics, and vehicles, and well, just about anything made of metal; I also sell things that I’ve sewn.”

Peridot perked up. “You sew? I do too, although I prefer to crochet.”

“I knit myself, there’s just something pleasant about the yarn coming together so methodically.”

“I know, I feel the same way. Do you make your own patterns?”

“Usually, but sometimes I need a little help.”

“I find it much easier to make patterns for sewing myself.”

“I’m the other way.”

Just as the conversation about sewing started getting more enthusiastic a sopping wet Max ran into the living room and shook off. Pearl made an annoyed grunt and Peridot immediately asked her to get a towel.

“You’re a muddy little guy, aren’t you?” Peridot cooed as she dried him off. “Lie down.” Max did. “Good, now, on your back.” He rolled over and Peridot wiped his tummy off. “Good boy. Okay, all done.”

And with that Max stood up wagging his tail.

“Did you have fun playing in the ocean?”

Max barked in response.

“Good to hear,” Peridot ruffled his fur.

Pearl walked into the room. “Okay, all of the mud is cleaned up.”

“Thank you for doing that.”

“Oh it was no trouble, Lion makes bigger messes,” Pearl waved her hand. “And at least you clean your dog before letting it onto the furniture.”

“Max knows he’s not allowed to cuddle when he’s wet and dirty.”

If Pearl didn’t know better she would’ve sworn the dog nodded.

They sat back on the couch but with a new furry addition on Peridot’s lap.

Peridot tried to restart the previous conversation but couldn’t help noticing Pearl’s discomfort.

“You don’t like dogs, do you?”

“No.”

Well this is awkward.

“Did you have a bad run-in with a dog?”

“A few during the war and some police dogs too.”

“Ah, I understand. I wish I knew that, I wouldn’t have come.”

“It’s alright, it’s been well-behaved,” a small smile reached Pearl’s lips. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me that I’m being ridiculous since your dog’s so small.”

Peridot shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t assume things but I’m guessing you have PTSD. I have an idea of what that’s like.”

“You do?”

“I can’t watch burning buildings on shows or in movies, not even cartoons. I know it’s not real, nobody’s in danger, but I just can’t look.”

“That’s just the nature of it.”

Peridot nodded. “If you want I could drop him back off with Amethyst.”

“No, don’t. Maybe this will be good for me. Steven told me that your dog is your emotional companion animal. So perhaps it can help me start to overcome my feelings about dogs. Or at least the small ones.”

“Alright, how do you want to go about this?”

“Maybe you could hold it out towards me then take it away if it gets to be too much.”

Peridot carefully held a sleepy Max out towards Pearl. He gave her a quizzical look and cocked his head. Despite herself, Pearl found it kind of cute. She slowly and cautiously reached out and let him sniff her. Max licked Pearl’s hand.

She pulled her hand away. “That’s enough for now.”

Max looked a bit disappointed as Peridot put him back on her lap. But apart from a small grumble as he got settled he didn’t complain.

“You did pretty well,” Peridot said as she pet Max. “That’s a big step-up from never looking at him.”

“It’s been over twenty years Peridot, I’d better be able to let a dog lick me.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. Have you seen a therapist? Or gone to any support groups?”

“I can’t bring myself to do that. Talking about it is still very hard.”

“There’s no way for me to understand exactly what you’re going through but a good therapist can be a big help. I can at least hear about house fires without shutting down now.”

“I’ll try to bring myself to find a support group.”

“Only if you want to. It won’t do any good if you’re not willing.”

“Thank you, not many people,” Pearl sighed, “understand what I’m going through.”

“Any time.”

Pearl and Peridot smiled at each other then moved on to less serious topics like cars, and other mechanical things.

“Hey guys,” Amethyst entered the living room. “We were thinking of starting up the fire pit and roasting hot dogs and some other things tonight.” She looked at Peridot. “You cool with that?”

Peridot and Pearl exchanged looks, they had planned on cooking supper together.

“I’m okay with the fire pit thing,” Peridot replied.

“Are you sure?” The concern was clear on Pearl’s face. “We don’t have to.”

Peridot nodded. “Yeah, it should be fine. But I may have to head in early because of the smoke.”

So it was decided, Amethyst grabbed wieners, marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate, and more then they walked onto the beach.

Garnet and Steven had already started the fire, they smiled when everybody else joined them.

“Peridot!” Steven grinned. “So glad you could join us. Have you ever cooked hot dogs over a fire before?”

“No,” Peridot shook her head. “Will you teach me?”

Steven’s eyes lit up. “Will I?!” He cleared his throat and spoke like Pearl does when she teaches him. He explained to Peridot how to cook her hot dog.

In truth, Peridot didn’t actually need the lesson; she just likes his enthusiasm.

Peridot sat between Steven and Amethyst and the three of them roasted their wieners.

“So Peridot, how much longer are you staying?” Steven asked as he checked the doneness.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon,” Peridot replied, she raised an eyebrow. “Sick of me already?”

“Nooooo,” Steven whined then hugged Peridot.

She laughed as she patted his back. “Aw Steven, I was kidding.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” Steven sat up.

“Lapis needs me.”

“Of course she does,” Amethyst muttered.

But Peridot didn’t hear here.

“She’s currently not in a good place, but I’m sure she will be some day,” Peridot smiled. “But there’s no reason I can’t come over for visits.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Steven returned the smile.

“You’re welcome here any time,” Pearl said and Garnet nodded. “You can even bring your dog too.”

Amethyst hugged Peridot. “Yeah!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Everybody checked their food and Peridot’s was charred. She passed it to Amethyst then started a new one.

“Too bad I have work tomorrow,” Amethyst said after eating the charred meat. “I won’t be able to see you off.”

Peridot’s eyes widened. “Oh no. How will I get home?”

Garnet raised her hand. “I’ll drive you.”

“I guess that’s that settled,” Peridot shrugged and checked her wiener.

It was still underdone.

How annoying.

Steven pulled out his ukulele and strummed it, he turned to Peridot. “We always sing by the fire. Any requests?”

“I don’t know many songs,” Peridot replied.

Pearl made a motherly noise. “Oh Steven, haven’t you been working on a new song? You should sing it.”

Steven started playing his instrument then started to sing.

♪ Life and death and love and birth

And peace and war on the planet Earth

Is there anything that’s worth more

Than peace and love on the planet Earth ♪

Peridot didn’t expect a song like quite that from a kid.

♪ Oh-Whooah, come on and sing it with me... ♪

Steven leaned into Peridot who had been muttering the notes.

“Sing?”

The words relate to the key...

“Key?”

♪ If it’s a pattern

If it’s a pattern

Then just repeat after me...

Life and death and love and birth ♪

Peridot joined in with her quiet squeaky voice.

♪ Life and death and love and birth

Now, you sing mi-fa-mi-mi-fa-mi-ti-la ♪

They sang in unison.

♪ And peace and war on the planet Earth ♪

Steven smiled. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He laughed. “Too bad that’s all I have right now.”

Peridot blushed. “That’s okay, I’m not much of a singer anyway.”

“I think you have a cute singing voice,” Amethyst said, she had expected something less meek.

But in a lot of ways the reality was better than her expectations.

“Isn’t Steven so talented?” Motherly pride radiated from Pearl. “He writes lots of songs himself.”

Steven smiled proudly. “Yep! But dad helps me sometimes too. He used to be a rock star.”

“Star is an exaggeration,” Pearl said under her breath.

“Your dad was a rock star?” Peridot looked at Seven with interest.

“Yeah,” Steven grinned. “Him and mom met at one of his shows.”

“She must have fought off quite the crowd then.”

“Nah, she was the only one to show up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but her beauty really captivated him.”

As Steven told Peridot about how his parents met, Amethyst switched her properly cooked hot dog with Peridot’s black one.

She tapped Peridot on the shoulder. “Peri, weenie.”

“Oh!” Peridot scrambled to pull her hot dog out of the fire. “Thank you, it just finished cooking.”

Peridot put her dog in a bun and put a little ketchup on it, mustard makes her sick. She took a bite and enjoyed it.

The group talked and roasted food, and sang songs until quite late. With a yawn they all headed in.

Amethyst watched Peridot walk out of the washroom all prepared for bed and an idea hit her.

“Hey Peri?”

Peridot made a noise of acknowledgement as she put her plugs on the dresser.

“What gauge are your ears? I’ve been wondering for a while.”

She hasn’t been.

“Five-eighths inches, or sixteen centimetres,” Peridot replied.

The bed shifted as Peridot sat down.

“So that’s how they’re measured?” Amethyst asked as she and Peridot prepared for the nightly lotion application.

“Yeah, after a zero gauge they start to measure in inches.”

“Huh, you know, I actually don’t know much about that sorta thing.”

Peridot chuckled. “I didn’t either until I started doing it. It’s oddly addictive.”

Amethyst couldn’t help laughing. “I had a feeling. I’m kind of the same way with ear piercings.”

“I’ve actually considered getting another ear piercing or two,” Peridot rubbed her thumb along the top of her ear. “I’ve always liked those barbell piercings so I was debating getting one.”

“Dooo iiiitt.”

Peridot burst out laughing. “How am I not surprised you egged me on?”

“You might as well, if you don’t like it you can just take it out. The holes will close.”

“That’s true. It’s kind of funny, I’ve put more thought into that piercing than I did my body mods,” Peridot flicked her earlobe. “Those holes won’t be closing. Not that I’m complaining.”

“I think that just means you’re getting older and smarter. You were a teen when you started stretching ‘em, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose. My dad actually set a limit for me back then,” Peridot chuckled. “I’m way past it now though. So what would another piercing hurt?”

Amethyst grinned. “Exactly. So, speaking of fun things to do with your body, you ever think of getting a tattoo?”

 “Where would I put it?” The smirk was clear in Peridot’s voice.

“Ah c’mon, between your two sides you have an arm.”

“Wouldn’t that be something? Covering all my unmarred skin with tattoos? So, how about you?”

“Yeah,” Amethyst replied with a grin. I want a puma tattoo! I’d probably put it on my upper arm so everybody can see it.”

A silly thought crossed Peridot’s mind, ��maybe we could get matching tattoos, I have an upper arm.”

But she didn’t voice that thought and instead said, “I should have guessed, you really like your pumas.”

“Of course, they’re awesome! So, if you did get a tattoo, what would it be?”

"Not a clue. I'd probably like something nerdy but understated. I'm proud of being a nerd but I'd want my hypothetical tattoo to be more subtle than the shirts I wear."

"I get that, people with super obvious nerd tattoos do get funny looks.  But if you ask me, if it's something you really like then those looks don't matter."

"True."

Amethyst finished applying the lotion and took a good look at Peridot's back.

"Hey, if it's cool with you, can I see your chest?" Amethyst managed to catch Peridot before she put her top on.

Peridot didn't respond.

"Only if you're okay with it," Amethyst reiterated.

"I've already seen you topless," Peridot took in a breath.

"Woah, hey," Amethyst put her hand on Peridot's shoulder. "Just because that happened that doesn't mean I have to see you topless. I'm just curious; those are the only burns of yours I haven't seen."

"Nah, it's fine, you'll probably see them eventually. But um, i-it's kind of a mess." 

Peridot turned around with her arm partially covering herself. In Amethyst’s opinion it wasn’t that bad. Only the left side of Peridot’s chest had skin grafts, the other had a burned spot or two but nothing major.

“Geeze, you kinda talked that one up. I expected a lot worse.”

“Ah, that’s because you’re not seeing what used to be a nipple.”

“That’s why you called your chest a mess? That’s hardly anything! I’ve seen some pretty weird boobs over the years.”

Peridot laughed.

“Cross my heart. Of course I can’t give you any details, but a former nipple ain’t that bad. And even if it was, who cares?”

“That’s true,” Peridot smiled. “You’ve accepted all my other flaws.”

“And you accept mine,” Amethyst smiled back.

‘Well, if you’re done looking I’m gonna put my shirt back on. I’m not one to sleep in the nude.”

“Yeah go for it.”

Peridot put her top and socks on then her, Amethyst, and Max got settled in bed like the have been.

They fell into a comfortable routine so quickly...

A pop alerted Amethyst.

“You okay?”

“Probably,” Peridot replied. “I think that was a good pop.”

“Is there such a thing as a ‘good pop?’”

“With my back, yes, my knee, not so much,” Peridot decided to keep things light.

As nice as their routine was, Peridot was looking forward to having back support again.

But other than the soft mattress Peridot was going to miss her nights with Amethyst.

She was sure they would happen again in the future.

[sorentm]

25 years of Zero-G.

I am sitting in front of my browser staring at a big green button that says: “Release App”. If I press it, I will release my very own game, Zero-G, to Steam. It will go out there, people will probably play it, and some might have fun doing it. My game. I did it. I really did it.

The thing is… I am scared. Not that people will hate it. Well yes, that scares me too, but the thing that scares me most is… How will this affect me? I have lived with this game for almost 25 years, and now I am supposed to cut it loose?

25 years is a long time to develop one game. I mean, Duke Nukem Forever only took 15 and more than 25 versions of FIFA are available now, though none of them existed when I started.

Actually a lot of cool stuff did not exist when I started:

Playstation and Nintendo 64

DOOM (not even Wolfenstein 3D)

Web browsers (at least not publicly available).

C# and Java

DVD’s

SMS’s

mp3’s

GPS

...and some of my current colleagues.

So, what happened? Well, it’s a long story…

The Amiga Prototype.

So, you’ve probably figured that I am old. I am old enough to be one of the first kids to grow up with computer games. I got the Donkey Kong Game and Watch when I was 12 and the Commodore 64 the year after. And they completely blew my mind. Unfortunately, since I was both a lazy and pragmatic kid, I figured that it was about as realistic for me to make a living off computer games, as it would be to become an astronaut (my second choice). In the end I did not bother to really learn how to program.

But that all changed in 1990 with AMOS BASIC for the Amiga. AMOS was pretty much what you would call a game engine today like Unity or Unreal. All of a sudden, the stuff that would have taken months of hard work and dedication could be had with few lines of code.

Load IFF “BackgroundScreen.iff” Load "MyMusic.Abk" : Music 1 Double Buffer

BAM! A double buffered screen with a background image, and music playing! I started making games. All kinds of games. I would often give myself challenges like creating an entire 10 level platform game with all music and graphics in 24 hours, or a racing game in an afternoon.

And then I thought: Why not make “Ender’s Game - The Game”?

Ender’s Game has been my favorite book since it came out, and I thought the Zero Gravity shooting gameplay would probably be awesome. I planned to make it like all the other sports games with a character you controlled, and the rest of the team being controlled by the computer, but to test it out I initially mapped all characters to the same joystick, and was surprised to find that it actually made controlling the team both really fun and interesting. Unfortunately it also made shooting feel stupid since everybody shot at the same time in the same direction, so I replaced the guns with a ball, and thus, by accident, the game had designed itself.

To get some graphics I got hold of my good friend Søren Lundgaard, and after a long night of matches so intense that I ended up breaking a joystick in half, he was in - provided he was allowed to assist with the coding and design. By 1993 we’d gotten a pretty polished prototype up and running, and things were great!

PC versions, anyone?

But then again - not really great. We had taken AMOS as far as we could. Even with a new AMOS compiler the framerate simply could not reach acceptable levels, which made the gameplay feel sluggish. So we decided that we’d had our fun and put the game to rest.

I kept thinking about it though, and I would often showcase it to people and try to convince them to remake it on the PC. Since there were no easy-to-use game engines available I was obviously too lazy to do it myself.

I talked to this guy while we were at board-diving practice (Yes, that’s something I did). He was all in, and I promised to give him all the assets, so he could have a go at it. Then he jumped from the diving board and immediately dislocated his shoulder badly and never returned.

I then talked to this other guy I met at Computer Science. He was brilliant, very energetic, wanted very much to make a PC version, and he actually did get the assets. But then he disappeared for a few months. The next time I saw him he looked really bad-ass. He had lost some weight, and had shaved his head. I said to him: “Hey Peter! you are bald! You look AWESOME!”. He gave me this really weird look, had a long pause and then just said. “Yes”.

He then turned and walked away, and… well, you have guessed it. He died a few weeks later.

Needless to say that completely killed my enthusiasm for Zero-G and for the next 10 years I left it alone.

The Deadline Games version.

Jump cut to 2004. Somehow my good old pal Søren Lundgaard had managed to get me hired at Deadline Games, even though I had tried to sabotage it as much as I could, by mentioning the fact that I find most games boring at the job interviews. Each of the 4 times I applied. But hey, in the end I became a game programmer, and did not need to be an astronaut, which would have been a disaster anyways since I get dizzy from just about anything that moves.

I had been on the team that did Total Overdose, and while I did the PSP-remake Chili con Carnage we got a huge contract for Total Overdose 2, so we had moved into a big office-building and staffed up. Then all of a sudden the contract was cancelled. It later turned out, that our publisher, Eidos, was at the same time in contact with this other team that was brewing on a game called Just Cause - a game that in feature set turned out absurdly similar to the Total Overdose 2 game design! But they had fully functioning world-streaming tech already, so we got the axe.

That was disastrous.

We managed to stay afloat for quite some time by doing the two Watchmen games that were objectively rushed pieces of dung, but subjectively (when I think about how little time we actually had) are still games that I am personally really proud of. But none of our pitches sold, and money was gushing out. By January 2009 we were on the brink of going broke.

I told the producer about Zero-G and my extremely interesting story of that time when I broke a joystick in half, and I was given 3 weeks to do a prototype. After those 3 weeks everybody available jumped in and we had a manic development sprint for 3 months. The goal was to just get something, anything playable really, on Xbox Live Arcade and Playstation Network. These online stores  were booming at that time but were not flooded with games yet, so new releases still had a good shot at getting noticed. It might have made a difference…

… but we weren’t fast enough. In May 2009 Deadline Games went bankrupt.

     The Deadline Games version of Zero-G.

Rising from the ashes?

After the bankruptcy a group of us tried to buy the assets for Zero-G and our custom engine from the estate so we could form a miniature company and release it. Unfortunately someone else put more money on the table and bought everything in one go. We managed to buy the actual Zero-G assets from them, but they would not let us buy the engine. And in the end they would not even commit to supporting the engine if we licensed it, so the project was soon doomed.

Buying those assets seemed like an expensive life lesson, but at least it gave me a build of the game I could use to dazzle the guys at Playdead into hiring me for the LIMBO production.

The Unity Version.

And that would probably have been it, if it hadn’t been for a particularly nasty attack of midlife crisis that came for me around 2013. Usually, what you do about those is to buy a pinball machine, take up speed rollerskating or grow a weird beard, but in this case the normal cures did not work. So one lonely night when I was feeling particularly worthless I decided to make Zero-G one more time - just to show myself and the world that I could! Nothing is so bad, that it isn’t good for something, right?

At that time I had been working professionally on the game INSIDE for a few years, so I had gotten pretty confident with the Unity engine, and since I had all the assets already, all I had to do was to reimplement the entire game code - again. So I did, and it was more fun than ever. I could rant on about all the weird things I have had to do or learn because I had decided to rely on nobody else - as the time when I had to hand-build an animation in notepad, since I only had animation data in Deadlines own exported format, and one of them was so weird I could not reverse engineer it. Oh, good times. But I will tell you later. None of the stories are as interesting as the one with the broken joystick anyways.

And that brings me back to the big green button on my screen. Release App. What will likely happen is that my little anachronistic game will drown in the raging tsunami of indie games washing over Steam these days. And my life project will leave no more of a lasting impression than a wet footprint on a beach.

On the other hand, then I am free to do something else.

I’m gonna push the mother out of that button!