#when it seems designed to eliminate the whole Making part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

totowlff · 1 year

Text

beware the trap

➝ request: could you right a short fic of toto telling the reader everything will be okay and it will all work out, don’t beat yourself down?

➝ word count: 3,6k

➝ warnings: mental breakdown

➝ author’s notes: i haven't written a one-shot for a long time and i was particularly inspired this week. the poem toto is referring to is called beware the trap by kelly mistry. I read it this week and it touched me deeply. finally, remember: do not fall into the trap.

As you stretched after hours of being slouched in front of the computer, your eyes found the clock in the corner of the screen. You ran a hand over your face and rubbed your eyes a bit, because you were sure you weren’t reading it correctly. It was not possible that it was already this late. A second look was enough for you to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

It was past midnight.

You pressed your palms into your eyes and took a deep breath. You were supposed to have left hours ago, when the rest of your team left. But, there you were, sitting at your workstation in your cubicle in the wind tunnel building, which was part of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 Team complex. You’d stayed late, but hadn’t meant to stay quite this late. No reason to leave now, though — it didn’t make any sense, with all of the work you had to do.

“You made us throw a whole year in the bin”, you remembered Mike, your boss, telling you that morning. You leaned back in your office chair as his voice echoed in your head. On the monitor in front of you, the dorsal view of a 3D car model made something feel tight in your chest.

When the new set of technical regulations hit your desk, you, as the chief aerodynamicist, made a point of studying them closely, along with Jordan and Giorgio, two of the best aerodynamicists on your team. Soon, you began to draft concepts, and eventually, your team narrowed it down to two radically different interpretations of the regulations. From the readings you were doing, it seemed that both of them had great potential.

After running models through the CFD software and running numerous simulations, everything pointed to the idea that you had — the concept of a low, flat sidepod, nicknamed the ‘zeropod’ — being the most efficient from an aerodynamic point of view. It was something definitely different than expected by John Owen, the chief designer, who believed that the car would follow a similar concept to that envisioned by the FIA.

However, the idea you ended up pushing was a bold choice. Your idea of placing the air intakes vertically and more or less glued to the cockpit, with the upper area of the floor designed to direct airflow to the rear wing. In all of the modeling, simulations, and wind tunnel testing, it generated the ideal amount of downforce.

The presentation of the concept was a success. You remembered James Allison smiling as you explained the design, along with all of the calculations and results of the testing that you and your team had done. Aerodynamically, it was your best work, the fruit of many long hours in front of the computer, many cups of coffee, and even the occasional cans of energy drinks that you usually preferred to avoid.

On the day of the W13 presentation, you were sure that you’d delivered your master work, that you would finally be able to make your mark on the team’s history.

But then, reality came crashing down.

During the shakedown, it was clear that something was wrong. The car was unstable, bouncing wildly and unpredictably. It was something that hadn’t shown up in wind tunnel testing and simulations.

You had it wrong. Your concept required the car to be run as low to the ground as possible, which caused the floor to scrape and bounce over every miniscule bump on the track, because the suspension also had to be incredibly stiff. The issue could be alleviated by raising the ride height, but that caused the car to run with far too much drag, eliminating its straight-line speed.

Your masterpiece had turned into a monster.

Every race weekend was torture. The questions, doubts, and stares from your team made you feel like you were in a court of law, going through the longest trial of your life. It was your decision that put the team on the back foot. As much as Toto liked to tell the press that everyone in Brackley and Brixworth was working “flat-out” to unlock the car’s performance, you could tell that your coworkers were losing motivation. Lewis was suffering, George was suffering.

It was your fault. Only you could fix it.

You started working on the W14 by yourself, almost in complete secrecy. You would come home from work and sit in your office at home, doing calculations and making models for hours. You wanted to fix things, you wanted to offer the team a better car. You wanted to make your idea work.

When you pitched the project to Mike Elliott, he was skeptical. He didn't believe the concept was a good one, it hadn't worked up to that point in the season. You argued, you presented the differences, you showed the points you had reworked, especially on the floor. After reviewing the data and the simulations your had run with Frederik, he seemed more interested.

The presentation of the W14, with the sidepod design you had in mind, was an indication that the technical and sporting team still trusted you to create a car capable of winning championships. You had done it before, and you were sure that this time you had hit the nail on the head with the floor design.

And then, it all came crashing down again.

You took another deep breath and looked at your clock again, clenching your jaw. You hadn't eaten anything since lunch. In your mind, every minute of work counted, especially after what Mike told you that morning. At the same time, your body was begging for something, your stomach rumbling loudly.

You stood up from your chair, stretched your back and shoulders a bit, grabbed your phone and your work badge, and walked out of the aerodynamics offices, and out of the wind tunnel building. You were hoping the cool night air would refresh you, but as you walked slowly to the main building, you felt completely absent from your body. Your mind was too distracted, a swirling maelstrom of numbers from the simulation results of the new design. Your team had affectionately nicknamed the concept ‘WNewey’, as it took cues from the concept used by Red Bull’s car the year before.

Entering the main building, you nodded as you were greeted by the receptionist, and made your way towards the cafeteria, which was strangely empty. You approached the counter, where an employee was sitting, fiddling with her cell phone.

— Hi — you murmured. She stood up and slipped her phone into the pocket of her apron.

— Good evening. What can I get for you?

You looked around, trying to take in what was on offer to eat. Despite how hungry you were, everything just looked like blobs of colors to your tired eyes, and your stomach was churning too much to eat anything.

— Do you have any Monster, or any other energy drinks? — you asked quietly.

— We do. What flavor do you want?

— Dealer’s choice.

The woman went to the refrigerator on the back counter, took out a black can, and placed it on the counter. After scanning your badge and the payment terminal beeping to confirm your payment, you went to one of the tables and sat down. After opening the can and taking a sip of the sugary, syrupy drink, your gaze was lost on the table in front of you.

After a few minutes, you heard someone else walk into the canteen area, but didn’t look up until you heard a familiar voice.

— Good evening, Poppy. Could you make me an espresso, please?

You lifted your head and saw Toto Wolff, the team principal and CEO of the company, standing in front of the counter. He was holding his cell phone, in its fluro yellow case, in one hand, and his badge in another. His posture indicated that he had to be tired, too. His shoulders looked tense under the white dress shirt he was wearing. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, as they usually were.

— Of course, Mr. Wolff. You’re here late. Did you want that with milk?

— No, just sugar, thank you. And you know how it is, remote meetings with Crowdstrike executives in Texas — Toto replied. He turned his head slightly to the side, which allowed you to see his face. He was scratching his forehead with one hand, and scrolling through something on his phone with the other. He seemed tired. Poppy had just set his coffee cup down on the counter as he sighed deeply.

“Another year in the bin”, you thought, as you heard the sound of his badge scanning on the payment terminal. Then, you watched as he took his coffee and turned toward you with a small smile on his lips.

— Ah, good evening, Y/N — he said, his smile fading as he looked more closely at your face — Is everything okay?

You blinked, as you snapped out of your cycle of mental self-flagellation.

— Yeah, everything is… Fine.

He approached you, seeming to study your expression. His appraising look made you feel somewhat exposed, as if Toto was able to know exactly what you were thinking and feeling at that moment.

— What are you doing here at this hour?

You stayed silent for a few seconds.

— Working. Well, I came to get something to drink, but I'll be heading back to my office in a bit.

— Wait, weren’t you here this — he hesitated, glancing at the black and teal watch on his wrist — I suppose, yesterday morning?

— Yes.

— What are you still doing here? Aren’t you normally finished at five?

You sighed, pursing your lips.

— I'm working on the car.

— You can do that during the day. You don’t have to stay past midnight, you know.

You looked down at the floor.

— Yes, I do.

— Why?

— Because I — you started to say, but your voice cracked. You took a deep breath to try and compose yourself before continuing. — I need to save our year.

Toto put down his coffee cup and phone next to your drink can and pulled up a chair, sitting next to you. You felt a bit sheepish as you glanced up at him, noticing the concern in his expression.

— Y/N, you're not going to save our year — he said, in a low voice — Simply because there's nothing that needs saving.

You lifted your head, feeling your throat tighten.

— But the car…

— Of course, we're facing difficulties with the car, but it's not going to be one single individual that will solve all of its problems, especially working such long hours by yourself.

You let silence hang between the two of you. You could feel the misery welling up inside you, anger and anguish filling your chest. You felt like you were a ticking time bomb.

— It's all my fault — you stammered, your voice low, your eyes brimming with tears, and your lower lip trembling. He stared at you intently, seemingly trying to process what you'd just said.

— What?

— It's my fault — you repeated, before burying your face in your hands and starting to sob. The anger you felt at yourself for screwing up was painful. It felt like hot, acidic bile in your throat. All you wanted to do was prove yourself, but you threw away all of your team’s hard work, eight years of constructor’s victories, and seven years of driver’s championships, all because you were too invested in the idea of making your damn sidepod concept work, when every race on every circuit across the world was proof that it didn’t.

You were so deep in your misery that you didn't notice the moment when you were wrapped in a pair of arms, nor when a gentle hand came to the back of your head, pressing it into a broad, firm shoulder. You were surprised when you realized that Toto had pulled you into a hug, but it felt like a lifeline, something you needed. You’d been drowning in the feeling that you’d failed for far too long.

After a few more minutes of Toto letting you cry on his shoulder, in the most literal sense, you managed to pull yourself together enough to lift your face and look at Toto again. There was concern in his dark eyes as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your eyes

— Feeling better? — he asked. His voice was gentle and quiet.

— A little — you replied, swiping the back of your hand across your nose as you sniffled.

— Do you want to talk about it?

— About what?

— Whatever is making you cry in the factory canteen past midnight.

Your throat tightened again, but you resisted the urge to cry. “Breathe”, you told yourself, as you struggled to get air into your lungs. After some time, you managed to find your voice steady enough to start talking.

— Well, for starters, the zeropod concept was my idea. I was the one who invested all of my time and energy into it, and convinced everyone to get behind it. Worse than that, I was the one who insisted that we continue working with this concept in the W14, even though it didn't work out — you said, looking at your hands — In the end, I guess Mike is right. I threw this year into the bin.

— What? Mike said that to you?

You looked up at Toto. His expression changed from concern to what looked like irritation. It was unexpected, especially in reference to someone he worked with so closely.

— Yeah, this morning. We were talking about Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, and he said that the results were disappointing, and that he doesn't understand my insistence on this zeropod concept. I explained that the problem wasn’t the sidepods anymore, but the rear downforce — you hesitated for a moment — He wouldn't listen. He said I threw the team's year in the bin with this and that I should start thinking about doing something different next year.

Silence hung between you again. Toto flexed his jaw, looking thoughtful. It felt a little wrong to sell your boss out to the CEO of the company like that, but your frustration and tiredness was overriding your desire to avoid further conflict with Mike.

— Well, one thing I can tell you definitively is that Mike is wrong, Y/N.

— Toto...

— I understand his frustration, as he is the technical director and everything related to the design of the car comes down on his head. But, our performance this year and last year isn't anyone's fault in particular — he continued, grasping your hands in his — We're a team, Y/N. Everything we do, we do as a team. You came up with the idea of zeropods and presented them well. We couldn’t predict the issues with suspension and ride height, which did not help.

— But if we had…

— It's no use thinking about what could have been, Y/N. Of course, we would like to be further ahead in the development of the car this year, but we made a mistake. It’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s okay to admit you’ve made mistakes. The problem is not learning from it. And clearly you've learned, so much so that you're trying to make it right in the worst way possible.

— The… worst?

— Staying so late, especially when you arrive so early, is not the way to go about this. You think you have more time, but you will just end up burning yourself out, which will cause you to make even more mistakes. No mind, no matter how brilliant, is immune to weariness.

You took a few seconds to absorb what you’d heard, like you couldn’t believe it. Toto Wolff had just called you brilliant.

But why wasn’t it making you feel any better?

— I just wanted to stop feeling like this…

— Like what?

— Guilty — you whispered, ducking your head — I feel so guilty, all the time.

He sighed, bringing his fingers to your chin and gently lifting your face to look back up at him.

— A while ago, I read a very interesting poem. I can’t remember who wrote it or what it was called, but it struck me because it was all about how guilt implies that you have the power to change the course of things when, in fact, you may not actually have the power to do so. This ends up making the emotion of guilt somewhat of a trap. It tricks you into believing that you are always in control, when in reality, you are not.

You blinked, listening to his words and the way he was talking to you. It was strangely soothing.

— What I mean, is that no one has control over the consequences or impacts of their actions. What we can control, though, is our actions and intentions. And you had the best of intentions, Y/N. You thought outside the box, came up with an innovative solution and even gave us a win last year.

— One win out of twenty-two races, after eight winning seasons. It feels like nothing.

— It’s not nothing, Y/N. It’s proof that, working together, we can achieve our goals. It makes me very proud, not only of you, but of the entire team. At the beginning of last season, nobody would have expected us to get a 1-2. We worked as a team and proved everybody wrong.

His words immediately brought tears back to your eyes, and it wasn’t long before you started to cry in earnest again. Toto just pulled you back into hug, your head nestled on his shoulder.

You had always admired him, for his own resilience and mental strength. The way Toto always saw difficulties as a comfort zone made him an inspiration. You wanted to be like him, to become an even better person under adverse conditions, like graphite under pressure becomes a diamond.

Pulling away again, you ran your hand over your face, trying to dry the last of your tears. Then, you noticed that his shirt was wet from where you’d been crying onto it.

— Sorry — you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

— For what? — he asked, raising an eyebrow. As you pointed to the shoulder of his shirt, Toto smirked — No need to apologize, Y/N. I have a five-year old son, I've dealt with worse than a few tears on my clothes. Far worse.

His comment brought a small smile to your face.

— I can imagine — you murmured.

— Now, I want you to go to your office, get your things, and go home. And I don’t want to see you tomorrow… I mean, later today, at the office. You need to rest.

— Toto — you started, but he cut you off.

— Smashing your head against your keyboard is not the solution to our problems, Y/N. I insist. You will stay at home, off duty. If you think about showing up, you'll be stopped at the gates.

— You know that I can just work from home…

— Don't make me have IT revoke your access, Y/N.

— You wouldn't do that — you said, in a slightly indignant tone.

— Are you going to challenge me on that? — he asked, his voice teasing.

— No, Mr Wolff.

A satisfied smile appeared on Toto's face.

— Good — he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear — Oh, and one more thing. If Mike starts again with this talk about you ‘throwing our year into the bin’, come talk to me, please.

His request made your stomach lurch. You liked Mike. He didn't seem as open to your ideas as James was when he was the team's technical director, but he had his own vision, which you respected. The relationship between you and Mike was always cordial, and he was willing to challenge you on your ideas, but it never had been so acrimonious as it had gotten that morning.

— I don't want to hurt Mike.

— You will not hurt him. He will be hurting himself if he continues with this behavior. He knows we have a zero-blame culture here, and why, and how seriously I take it. Please let me know if this happens again.

You nodded.

After a good-natured comment about his coffee, which, by that point, must have gone cold, you got up from your table and returned to the office, downing what was left of your energy drink on your way back to the wind tunnel building, feeling relieved, and strangely light.

You turned off your computer and left the factory for your flat, which wasn't far away. After taking a shower and changing into your pajamas, you laid down on your bed and became acutely aware of how tired you were. It was as if every part of your body was screaming at you to take a break, and you finally got a chance to do so.

After sleeping a good part of the next day, you took the afternoon to clean up your flat, relax, and cooked yourself a nice meal instead of getting takeaway or heating a frozen dinner. You avoided picking up your phone to even look at it, as Toto had sent you a message on the company Slack telling that he would confiscate it if he saw you online.

You felt much better the day after. You felt rested, and felt better about yourself and your work. You had hope for things to get better, for you to get more confident. You were trying your hardest, and it was being noticed. There was nothing better than that.

So you thought.

When you arrived at your desk, you noticed a cardboard to-go cup sitting in front of your keyboard. The coffee inside was still hot. There was a blue Post-It note stuck to the lid, the handwriting on it familiar to you.

“Beware the trap of believing you always have control - TW”.

You smiled as you stuck the note to the bottom edge of your computer monitor.

You would not fall into that trap again.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fluff #f1 one shot #formula 1 one shot #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #formula one fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #oneshotwlff

230 notes · View notes

baeddel · 1 year

Text

thoughts i've had while reading the Foucault biography by David Macey:

(1) Foucault was a bourgeois and his entry into the elite higher educational institutions involved a number of processes that were designed very specifically to select for the children of bourgeois, in a way that reminds me a lot of the recent post by gothhabiba (click). one example which particular concerns philosophy is that entering the highly competiitve ENS would require knowledge of philosophy (Kant etc.), which was only taught to highschool students at the fee-charging lycees. further, philosophy was taught at lycees by ENS graduates, who may also be on the comittee that selects ENS applicants. this—along with a few direct interventions of actual nepotism—is how Foucault got there in the first place, because some (FAMOUS) men (like Jean Hyppolite!) met him as a child and decided he was 'very intelligent'. the same story repeats when Foucault gets his first few academic posts, with recognizable names balancing the scales for him. this does not seem to be something special but rather how all applications were judged and posts filled. there is a more subtle example for which analysis would be possible, but the book doesn't offer enough information, which is in the explicit discussion about how the topics for the oral agregation (necessary for graduation) should be selected. Macey concludes the section by saying that "[t]he 1951 agrégation [when Foucault graduated] had been a ‘Malthusian’ process of elimination: fourteen candidates were successful, and five of them were normaliens [ENS students]."

(2) throughout his youth into his late 20s (ie. the part i've read so far), Foucault seems to only ever—with the exception of patients and prisoners he met at the clinic when he worked there—interact with other members of the French elite. even in the communist party he attends a special ENS chapter and so forth. this may simply be because only famous men leave information to posterity, so we know less about Foucault's non-elite associations, or even that Macey just has nothing to say about those relationships, but it is quite striking. the same is not true of Deleuze per François Dosse's dual biography of Deleuze & Guattari (i mean anyway we talk about him in the same breath as Guattari who was not part of this system at all).

(3) he loved serialist music and had a live-in romantic relationship with a serialist composer named Jean Barraqué who was taught by Oliver Messaien. isn't that cool? they would go drinking between classes, just like we did when we studied serialism... haah...

(4) the biography skips around in time quite a bit; when Foucault first meets someone who will become important to his life we get a sort of summary of their whole relationship in rapid diegesis which will reoccur in a slower, although still diegetic, pace later in the book. this reminds me a lot of the way the Norse Sagas are written; in his excellent introduction to the Saga of Hrolf Kraki, Jesse Byock remarks that the author makes clear that he is compiling fragmentary sources by "telling the audience when one sub-tale ends and another begins: ‘Here ends the tale of Frodi and now begins the story of Hroar and Helgi, the sons of Halfdan.’" the biography of course also does this by explicitly mentioning, either in the text or in a footnote, which sources (books, interviews, letters, personal correspondences) the story is compiled from. when i thought about the Sagas i had thought of it as producing a very strange literary effect, almost like a Brechtian distancing effect, freely dispensing of suspense to remind the reader of the structural components of the narrative, and i have written some stories which try to perform this idea. however, now i realize that we still do this quite often, only in that peculiar form of literature called the biography, where it appears quite natural and doesn't surprise the reader. i think one explanation for the strangeness in the Sagas is that the Sagas are primarily in mimesis, and the sudden episodes of diegesis during which the story and the plot become momentarily disimbricated are surprising to a modern reader.

(5) Foucault suffers a bitter quarrel with another gay man named Jean-Paul Aron he was previously friends with which they would never rapproach. the reason for this quarrel is, according to Macey, because "one of Aron’s young lovers fled and took refuge with Foucault." Macey discusses this entirely in terms of "sexual jealousy" and "envy"—i suppose Macey is heterosexual because oh my god. doesn't that sound like such a familliar story to us... the guy had to run away from his partner and go and live with someone else over it... and it caused scene drama for the rest of their lives... what was going on there?

(6) in discussing the homophobia of the official French Communist Party to which Foucault belonged until 1953 (which was explicitly homophobic) the principal example which Macey chooses is a case where they expelled a highschool teacher for propositioning a pupil. for Macey this seems to only have the dimension of homosexuality, and neither the power dynamics of teacher and pupil nor the fact that the pupil was presumably a child are mentioned at all. this biography was written in 1993. it made me think immediately of a number of other instances of an adult man having or attempting a sexual interaction with an underaged boy, being penalized or imprisoned in some way, and the response of, essentially, the legitimate gay movement was to call it homophobic. i don't remember his name, but there was one composer, i think an American, in the 40s or 50s, who was imprisoned for sleeping with a 17 year old boy, and people came to his defense and considered the prosecution homophobic; similarly this highly sympathetic article (click) on the GLBT Encyclopedia Project about NAMBLA (who's periodical Delany used to read and recommend, something which he gets and still responds to emails about today), which opens with mention of "a successful effort on the part of gay activists to thwart a move by then-Boston District Attorney Garret Byrne to ferret out patrons of teenage male prostitutes via an anonymous telephone tip line", paints a picture where NAMBLA were relatively mainstream until the mid-80s. while i suspect this article of being at least a little apologetic it does also talk about gay organizing around changing age of consent laws & a line on how unequal enforcement of the age of consent was a tool to enforce homophobia, listing some impressive names who engaged in this kind of activism like Kate Millet and Gayle Rubin. and we also have, very infamously, Foucault's own advocacy on precisely the same thing, around the time of the petition, signed by Foucault and virtually every other French radical intellectual, to abolish the age of consent.

what do you think? from here doesn't it all look like a catastrophic blunder, something we're ashamed to remember and frightened to talk about? even when we're coming from an anti-carcereal, reparative, critical kind of perspective, something about the kind of narratives, defenses and advocacy from back then on such issues leaves us feeling alienated. i tend to think of it like this: that there was a historical situation where 1. all forms of homosexuality were illegal, 2. homosexuality was primarily understood in society, by both the right and left, as a kind of pedophilia, and 3. the concept of the age of consent was being redefined, socially and legally, at that time. this third point is specifically what Foucault was discussing in that interview, but i was interested to see the same point come up in a Defunctland video (click)(!), because—get this—one of the songs performed by Disney's in-house rock band Halyx was called 'Jailbait', and he asks the writer about it. on relistening to the song she immediately laughs in embarassment and says "please! what was i thinking back then!" and she has to basically do her own kind of historical-juridicial-philological analysis to attempt an explanation (timestamp), saying that they had "just done this thing saying that if you're over 18..." and so forth. her song by that title was performed by a female singer, and watching the performance i got the feeling that the intention was sort of twofold; in the first case, to exploit the imaginary erotic power of forbidden love ("i want you, baby / but you're jailbait"), and, in the context of a live performance, make the teenage boys in the audience feel wanted. i am not sure if the same effect is intended in Motorhead's song by that title ("i don't even dare to ask your age"). by the 90s you didn't get songs like this anymore; Boogie Down Productions' '13 and Good' is both condemnatory and paranoid and explicitly names it "statutory rape."

this isn't really a good thread of argument; i am not comparing like evidence. and i'd like to investigate contrary examples from that period—the documentary on NAMBLA Chickenhawk for example shows lesbian groups attacking NAMBLA members at demonstrations, and Andrea Dworkin was famously critical of NAMBLA—but i am anyway kind of interpreting Macey's framing as a 'pagan survival' of an older approach to these issues when they arose in a very different polemical context.

71 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 1 year

Text

i do think the key to how things will fall out regarding death on remnant is the jabberwalker, bc like

the brothers created death by creating him

the god of light, fearing they had disrupted the balance, tried to get rid of him. the god of darkness refused to countenance this, and they fought about it.

they leave the ever after. jabber remains, implying one of three possibilities: 1. dark ‘won’ the argument and both brothers agreed to let jabber live, 2. dark recreated jabber one last time in secret before they left, or 3. jabber came back later a la modern humans. given light’s general inflexibility my inclination is 2 or 3.

in any case the tree seems to accept jabber as part of the ever after and the presence of his figurine on the blacksmith’s worktable implies that he will continue to exist in some form.

during the creation of remnant, the brothers agree that death will be permanent. their reasons are not yet fully clear, but light was the only one concerned about enforcing this rule; i think it is almost certainly a rule that originated with the god of light.

“but balance cannot be restored by force or calculation; true balance finds its own equilibrium”

force = destroying jabber. calculation = creating a new world with permadeath.

—

the god of light conceives of balance as a fragile order that must be meticulously maintained or else fall apart: his purpose, as he sees it, is to maintain order. everything he does comes from this. he cannot tolerate change because he lives in abject fear of ‘disrupting the balance’ again—as he believes they have already done once, by creating jabber.

so there is a certain narrative equivalency being drawn here between removing jabber and making death permanent for remnant. both decisions are predicated on a fundamental misunderstanding of what balance is.

thus the problem of death is not that it exists, per se. the problem is that death is the locus of light’s anxiety about change.

he first attempts to fix the ‘problem’ by getting rid of jabber, eliminating death. but he can’t, because dark won’t let him. so plan b is to leave the ever after and create a new world where death is part of the design—which isn’t contradictory at all if the intention is to prevent disruption of the existing order.

and something to keep in mind here is that 1. the cat and the jabberwalker were both deathless and unable to ascend, and 2. the brothers created death by mistake. for light these are crucial factors that must be accounted for in the new design. the only way to ensure that the disruptive introduction of death can never happen again is to include death from the start, transforming the accident into a deliberate choice.

which is all well and good except for one teeny, tiny wrinkle: for humans, death is not actually annihilative. they don’t simply cease to exist when they die.

i think it’s extremely likely that wasn’t supposed to happen. in a system where death is final and forever, spiritually immortal humans pose an obvious risk of disruption—and the ‘afterlife’ is evidently just permanent unconscious stasis, so it doesn’t seem like human souls were preserved for any purpose.

if your aim is to design an orderly system that can be maintained exactly as-is forever, and one of your core building blocks is that death is permanent, no exceptions, then why would you ever create beings capable of rising from the dead? you wouldn’t!

but once humans with immortal souls exist you’re sort of stuck with them, aren’t you? and i think that dilemma makes the most sense of why light’s afterlife is… like that. the souls of the dead ‘resting’ in everlasting oblivion in another realm that living humans cannot enter is the same in practice as annihilative death as long as every being capable of reaching the afterlife follows the stated rules.

the instant dark decides to make an exception, the whole system collapses. it reveals to salem that death isn’t inherently final or forever—that this is an arbitrary rule that the brothers decided, and one of them is open to the idea of changing those rules. then the gods make her immortal and light reprimands her for failing to understand how important his rules are (rules his brother just broke with no consequence except that light got mad), but ultimately what she learns is that the brothers are fallible and their rules can be changed. her rebellion is underpinned by this revelation.

the divine order suffers one small disruption and almost immediately, catastrophically fails, just as the god of light feared.

but that failure did not happen because of the disruption; the system failed because it was artificial. the brothers designed it a certain way and then light focused all of his efforts to keeping it that way, unchanging, forever—because their world wasn’t an ecosystem so much as it was a lawn in arizona. that lawn can only exist for as long as someone is doing the work to keep it on life support.

anyway the point i’m getting to is that remnant still isn’t in stable equilibrium, largely because of salem’s immortality and ozma’s reincarnations but also in the more general sense: the people of remnant are spiritually immortal but made to spend the vast majority of their existence essentially comatose because One God is afraid of change.

you can’t bring remnant into equilibrium by eliminating death: killing the jabberwalker isn’t the right answer. and you can’t restore balance by restoring the old system of divine rule and rigid adherence to the original design, because that system was a spindly papier-mâché machine that imploded the second somebody breathed on it wrong. and you can’t just yank the dead back to ameliorate your grief because that isn’t your choice to make, that’s an ethical position the narrative has made very clear.

which… really leaves changing the nature of the afterlife as the likeliest direction. death isn’t the problem, the afterlife of eternal stasis is. death isn’t the problem, light’s refusal to allow beings with immortal souls to keep going after their first life ends because the rules say death is final is the problem. because that finality is just… not reality. a person’s soul persists after death, ipso facto death isn’t the end.

but the reverse idea that death shouldn’t happen at all is not reality either. salem can’t die and her immortality is isolating and endlessly painful. ozma can’t stay dead and it’s eroded him down to a miserable shell of who he used to be. afterans choose to leave their memories behind when they ascend—nothing can happen to you in the tree except what you want to happen. without destruction, creation stagnates. death is part of life, not its enemy.

i doubt very much that the endgame here is for afteran ascension to be directly ported over into remnant—these are different worlds, different peoples, different systems, and while people from remnant can spiritually connect with the tree they are still fundamentally not part of it. afterans are emanations of the tree; humans and faunus are not. when afterans ascend they return to the roots of the tree and flow upward to blossom again from its crown, and that is, to put it mildly, not a system of reincarnation that physically makes sense for remnant, where things reproduce and have babies instead of new lives budding from the cosmic tree. if reincarnation brings equilibrium to remnant then it will presumably happen in a manner more natural to remnant’s people, and may not even involve passage through the tree at all.

it’s also not the only possibility: for example, there’s no reason that remnant’s afterlife has to be eternal sleep. it could just be… a new realm, a new world to live in after your life on remnant is ended. the brothers’ departure from the ever after into the boundless potential of the unknown is as likely a model as ascension. maybe remnant’s dead can’t return except by an act of god, but “gone from remnant forever” can coexist with the afterlife being… alive, as opposed to cold storage for inconveniently immortal souls.

basically the narrative setup isn’t toward rejecting death, it’s toward rejecting the state of affairs where you die and then millions of years later a god wakes you up and you have no awareness or memory of your existence since the moment of your death because you were kept unconscious until that god needed a servant. the point is that death isn’t the natural end of existence (because souls are immortal, on remnant as in the ever after) and remnant’s dead shouldn’t be held in stillness by light’s futile effort to make the facts of reality conform to his intended design.

the jabberwalker has existed for eons without bringing the ever after to ruin; the balance shifted, things changed a little, and life went on. remnant is existentially threatened by the factual reality of life-after-death only because light is so convinced of this danger that he is determined to prohibit it by any means necessary, including “demolish everything and start over from scratch.”

even a god can tilt at windmills.

#it’s also just darkly hilarious in a way #afterans are eternal #the cat was immortal #jabber was immortal and light TRIED and FAILED to unmake him #the b r o t h e r s a r e e t e r n a l #they make a world where death is supposed to be The End #and then fill it with beings #MADE OF THEMSELVES!#MADE WITH THEIR OWN NATURE!#light rattling the cosmic blueprints #what do you mean humans are eternal #WE AGREED THAT THINGS SHOULD DIE #THIS IS A DISASTER #dark like you SAID you wanted to make them like US #sorry for listening to you bro it won’t happen again #by the way i gave them magic instead of eradicating the grimm like you asked #they’re exploding beowolves with fireballs now it’s awesome #light like WHY ARE YOU THIS WAY #it’s hysterical. the divine blorbos

33 notes · View notes

seeyouspacecoyote · 7 months

Text

Rating Record of Ragnarok as a series:

Random personal opinions about Record of Ragnarok all condensed into one shiny, spick and span, semi-coherent post, courtesy of yours truly:

Plot: Being a basic tournament style fighting anime, it's either your thing or not and fighting tournament animes are very, very much my thing. That said, the execution can vary, although I think in Record of Ragnarok, it's fairly good, even though the series itself suffers from a sense of predictability due to the basic nature of the plot itself and the fact that there are only 13 rounds (most likely.)

Also, there are different ways to set up fighting tournament animes, some are just straight up one on one matches where one fighter is eliminated each round, which Record of Ragnarok does, while others are more set up like an elimination roulette where you have various matches that eliminate one contestant but then the winner moves on the next round to fight someone else, and so on and so forth until you reach a point where there are only two fighters left and then the two of the fight until you only have one guy left standing. I do tend to prefer the latter, if only because it allows us to see fighters who win a match more often in-universe, but for Record of Ragnarok, the simpler one on one style with no further participating from the winners of each match works.

Characters: For the most part, I like the character designs in Record of Ragnarok, every character is very visually distinct and the art style is fucking amazing. I especially appreciate the large (no pun intended,) amount of attractive men. There are also many different types of men featured among all the fighters too, so no matter what your tastes are, you'll probably find someone you like if you're into men. Of course, in my case, the ones I like seem to die more often, but eh, that's my luck in pretty much every series I ever get into.

As for character development, Record of Ragnarok can be very, very inconsistent, but when it hits, it hits. Unfortunately, though some characters get very good character development, some other characters get severely neglected in the process, especially in each fight, as in some fights, it's quite obvious that one character gets disproportionate focus and narrative significance than the other one does, which makes some of the fights feel very lopsided and uneven from a storytelling perspective.

Also, another nitpick I have with the character development is that, for a series that's about humans fighting gods, the gods get disproportionately more screen-time, focus, and character development compared the the human fighters. Almost all the gods, except for Thor, play a rather significant role in the plot or get much more backstory than the human characters do, even the gods that didn't show up in-universe at all until their fights (for the ones that happen to be fighters in the tournament.)

In particular, some of the human fighters feel wasted as characters, like the authors never gave them the chance to live up to their potential, and some of the rounds felt very rushed as a result. I also would have liked to see a wider range of human fighters from different cultures and countries, and having two different Japanese swordsman on the roster on the human side is a choice, but not one I would have made (personally, I would have kept Kojiro, but I'd exchange Okita for someone else.) At the very least, for the human side, I would have preferred if they had picked one Japanese swordsman and one Japanese ninja to at least add more variety to the fighting itself.

On the gods side, there are too many Greek gods and I'd rather see a few other gods from some other cultures or countries as opposed to having 4 spots on the roster taken by Greek gods. As much as I love Greek mythology, there's literally a whole world of cultures and mythologies the authors could have taken inspiration from and it's a shame that the focus is so narrow and limited.

Pacing: The pacing is pretty on-point, given that the whole thrust (no pun intended) of the plot is one-on one fights to the death that are meant to determine the fate of the human race. Still, it does feel a bit like going on a super fast roller-coaster at times, and sometimes I have to re-read chapters to figure out what actually happened. A few more chapters devoted to world-building or character development would help fix this problem in my opinion.

Other: Despite some characters receiving very little development, even when it would have greatly improved their characters if they had, almost every character in this series is unique and memorable in their own way, which is hard to pull off, and I give the authors credit for that. Love them or hate them, there's a lot of different characters with different and unique personalities in this series and that's something I always love and appreciate in a story, so kudos to the authors for giving us such a fun, interesting series with such a colorful cast of characters. My only complaint is that I wish we got to see them interact with each other more and that each fighter in each round got a more equal amount of focus and development.

Overall, Record of Ragnarok is a fun, interesting fighting tournament series and though I don't necessarily like or agree with all of the writing decisions the authors made, it's one of the most entertaining series I've found in years and it's inspired my writing and given me a wealth of creative ideas and I'm glad I discovered it.

#judal speaks #the coyote talks #record of rangarok #RoR #SnV #shuumatsu no valkyrie

6 notes · View notes

onyxbird · 6 months

Text

Got around to watching Damsel (2024), and overall enjoyed it and thought they did a lot of interesting stuff.

Detailed thoughts (and major spoilers) below the cut.

Aesthetically, I really like the dragon design. It clearly conveyed "dragon" in overall shape and behavior, but with a novel spin that did not look like a giant lizard with wings or closely based on any other real animal, but a different type of creature entirely. Its level of agility felt believable for that body shape, and also think not having it closely resemble any real animals gives a lot more freedom to use facial expressions/speaking without it looking really weird.

I also thought they did a good job of foreshadowing some of the developments, e.g., during the first scene with the old-timey king, the visuals were too obscured to see what was actually going on, but the sound effects, etc., were enough to make me suspect (but not be certain) that they'd killed baby dragons. And the apparent route out on the map? It would be a really selfless princess to get all the way to the exit and then go back to update the map for future girls.

The prehensile tail was particularly brilliant, because it added a completely new danger/dynamic to dealing with the dragon that isn't part of the standard pattern. I also liked that the egg fluids surrounding the hatchlings looked like molten gold--that feels like there was some worldbuilding about the typical link between dragons and gold going on there that just wasn't relevant to the current story.

(Also, for some reason I did not expect this dragon to talk! Even though they'd said they made a deal with the dragon, I was still shocked when she spoke to Elodie for the first time.)

There are a few aspects that I'm kind of side-eyeing.

1) The dragon claims to know that the princesses are from the royal family due to the smell of their blood, and that's supposed to be entirely from the little bit of Henry's blood that got transferred over by pressing their cuts together? I don't recall any indication that the humans can perform magic, but that plot point only works if 1) the ritual literally transforms all of the princesses' blood into "royal blood" identifiable by smell (Elodie bled a lot more than that cut while the dragon's caves, so that smell should have been clear) or 2) the dragon has never figured out that all she's smelling is human blood, despite seeming to understand that there are "royal" and "non-royal" humans.

3) While I'm all for the dragon and Elodie teaming up to eliminate their mutual enemy, is Elodie seriously bringing her home with them? Yes, the dragon was horribly wronged, but not only did she demand to murder young women who were not responsible for killing her babies (in huge numbers given this has been continuing for centuries), she also made it clear that them dying too quickly is disappointing and she wants to hunt them slowly and maximize the physical and psychological torment. I.e., whatever she says about making the royals feel her pain, that's not what she's actually prioritizing--the people sacrificing the girls dump them into the pit, walk away, and move on with their lives, never having to know what actually happens once they're down there or how quickly or slowly they die; everything after that is gratuitous torture of the princesses, i.e., the ones standing in for the babies she is supposedly avenging. Elodie seems to forgive and forget awfully quickly.

2) The royal family of Aurea seems awfully big on depictions of dragons (e.g., the gigantic dragon sculptures at the harbor entrance) considering that the one that lives on their island hates their guts and the deal seemed to be purely "regular sacrifices in exchange for the dragon not burning your whole kingdom down" without any other dragon-provided benefits, which doesn't seem particularly endearing--even if the Aurean royalty has no moral qualms about the human sacrifice whatsover, it's got to be expensive between finding the candidates from faraway lands, throwing the fancy weddings, and paying apparently-large bride prices for the girls they're just going to sacrifice the next day.

(I'm also curious what the timing is on the sacrifices--my guess was every generation, and that works if they have a male heir to marry off to three sacrifices and then marry a "real" spouse, but what if they only have girls for a generation? Same-sex marriage? Have at least four daughters and actually sacrifice their own that generation? Do the royal-blood stunt on some random boy and make him an adopted prince long enough to marry and sacrifice three princesses?)

#damsel (2024)

5 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 1 year

Text

Charade (1963)

1963’s Charade is a comedy, a romance and a suspense thriller all at once. The mix seems incompatible, particularly when your lead couple is separated by 25 years, but the results work. So well. In fact, much of what makes the film special are the ingredients other movies would’ve eliminated. It’s got so many twists it’ll make your head spin off its axis and there’s no way you’ll guess the ending.

Returning from a skiing holiday in the French Alps, Regina “Reggie” Lampert (Audrey Hepburn) discovers her apartment stripped bare, her bank accounts empty and the husband she was about to divorce dead. His four passports - all under different names - lead the police to suspect foul play. All signs point towards the three men who attend his sparse funeral (played by James Coburn, George Kennedy and Ned Glass) being involved in his murder. They threaten Reggie, warning her the money they’re owed better show up soon. With the help of a charming American stranger, Peter Joshua (Cary Grant), Reggie begins sifting through her husband’s last possessions for clues.

From the colourful and stylish opening credits (Designed by Maurice Binder), you know you’re in for an unusual treat. This movie is bright and shiny. When Reggie and Peter are together, all you can think about is them but he’s apprehensive. She just lost her husband - she didn’t love him. They’ve just met - and aren’t they great together? There’s such a big age difference - she doesn’t care, why does he? The banter they have back-and-forth is full of great, witty lines, the kind you want to memorize and pull out at the right moment to knock all your friends off their feet.

But wait. This is a romantic comedy… but it’s also a thriller. Just when you think we’re getting ready to zoom in on that first kiss… a dead body. A hideous murder. A gun. Now you’ve got to wonder. Is he actually hesitant to get with her because of some chivalrous impulse… or is he stringing her along for nefarious purposes? What if it's the opposite. Maybe Reggie knows something we don’t and she’s trying to seduce it out of Peter. Maybe their coincidental meeting wasn’t a coincidence at all! But no, there’s no way there could be anything sinister between Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. They’re simply too good together to be anything but a couple waiting to fall in love.

That’s how you feel during the whole movie. One moment, you’re in knots over the thriller elements. You wonder if the unhelpful CIA agent (Walter Matthau) is up to something no good… until you remember this is a comedy. You think it’s getting fun and screwball-y with people looking into rooms for clues to figure out who’s got the money… and then someone turns up dead. Yikes! This movie keeps you on your toes in a way you’re not used to, which might make it more enjoyable on a second viewing. Then again, this first ride is a blast as you try to figure out who’s lying, who’s going to betray who, what’s a real clue, what’s a dead end, and so on. Not that you’ll be able to figure it out on your own. This is not the kind of movie that will linger on a piece of paper to give away a crucial detail. You might be able to guess certain motivations but where the money went? No way. I suppose you could call that a bit of cheat - part of the fun is usually piecing together all the puzzle's pieces and seeing if you can beat the detectives to the conclusion - but this isn’t a normal thriller. Not at all.

You could never recreate the magic of Charade. You might be tempted to, with the one fight scene that’s a bit clunky and another where everyone decides to go with the flow instead of calling the police, but too much of what makes this movie good is unique to when it was made. The actors fit their roles so perfectly it would be foolish to recast them. The dialogue is too magnificent to be tweaked. The atmosphere is a perfect mix of romance, mystery, and danger. It’s a great choice if you want to know what made Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant icons. (May 14, 2021)

#Charade #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #stanley donen #peter stone #marc behm #cary grant #audrey hepburn #walter matthau #james coburn #1963 movies #1963 films

3 notes · View notes

whoneedsapublisher · 1 year

Text

Ciel and The Vault Dweller

Day five of Nasuverse Femslash Week, tagging @nasuversepromptweeks as usual. This time the prompt was "Alternate Universe/kink" and I really considered just writing some smut set in a cofee shop AU or something but in the end I came up with a Ciel/Arc story set in the Fallout world.

Words: ~2000

Summary: Paladin Ciel had a mission. Enter the military base said to contain experimental weapons technology, and reclaim anything of interest for the Brotherhood. The mission's danger rating was relatively low- security wasn't expected to be too tight for a Paladin, but the military robots had kept any other factions from setting up shop there. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it should be an easy job.

Also on Ao3.

****************

Ciel was going to kill someone. And if she had her wish, it would be the clueless woman currently rummaging through her pack and chatting to her as if they were having tea together, not in the aftermath of a battle.

Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely, given that right now, she was entirely at that woman’s mercy.

As part of her Brotherhood training, she’d been taught a threat ranking of the various foes she could expect to encounter in the Wasteland. The top of the ranking was about what you’d expect: Deathclaws, Super Mutant Behemoths, high end military robots like customized Assaultrons. Lower on the list were other giant natural threats like the larger end of Radscorpions,Cazadors, various Super Mutants, and some of the more organized factions that weren’t in good standing with the Brotherhood, such as the Enclave and the NCR. Even lower were scum like raiders and wildlife like molerats.

But there was one entry marked as “Special”. One that she was warned could be either barely more threat than a raider, or worse news than a whole pack of Deathclaws.

Vault dwellers.

It always seemed to be vault dwellers who caused some of the biggest shakeups in the Wasteland, one way or the other. Sure, sometimes it was the emergence of some rogue faction, or a particularly notable member of a faction like that one kid from Arroyo who’d been instrumental in taking down the main Enclave base, or a surprise faction showing up and taking over entire states like the NCR or Caesar’s Legion, but time and time again, some strange man or woman would clamber out of a vault and make it their business to turn the world upside down. As if the world wasn’t disrupted enough already.

This particular vault dweller seemed to be firmly in that camp. When Ciel had come across her poking around a former military base that she’d been sent to retrieve technology from, she’d gone by the book- which was to say, she’d pointed her thermic lance at the target and demanded immediate surrender or retreat, in the name of the Brotherhood. Generally, that was where a lot conflicts with humans ended- unless you were up against a particularly drugged up raider or at least a very stupid one, anyone with a working brain decided to go the other direction when someone wearing power armor pointed a weapon originally designed to cut tanks in half at them. The vault dweller, though, put her hands on her hips and glared at Ciel without a hint of fear.

“How rude! I got here first, you know! And who the heck are the Brotherhood of Steel, anyway?”

An unusual reaction, but not one that wasn’t covered by her training. Ciel had moved on to the next stage of the “intimidation” section of first contact guidelines.

“We are an organization formed from the remnants of the US Military, dedicated to the preservation and securing of technology. If you interfere with our work, you will be eliminated.”

Technically, a lot of her supervisors had advised her to skip this part.

“If they don’t run immediately, just kill ‘em,” her sergeant had said during training. “Either they’re trouble, or they’re too stupid to live. If it’s the former, you’re doing the Brotherhood a favour by killin’ em. If they’re the latter, you’re doing the world a favour.”

Ciel, though, didn’t care for that attitude. Wastelanders might be distasteful and troublesome, but they were still people. So she gave this foolish woman a second chance to live.

One she’d squandered immediately, of course.

“You guys sound like jerks, and I still got here first,” she’d said, crossing her arms. “You go away! I read in a magazine that they have a cool gun here, and I want it!”

Ciel had stopped trying at that point.

“Entering combat,” she’d said, raising her lance and thrusting it forward, turning on the heat cutter.

What should have happened was that the annoying woman in front of her should have been chargrilled and sliced in half. What happened instead was that all of a sudden the woman was holding a strange little box in one hand, and with a terrible buzzing noise, Ciel’s power armour servos all locked up at once, freezing her in place with her weapon only inches from the woman’s chest. The autofit system started malfunctioning too, squeezing her in so tightly that she couldn’t even reach the manual release.

In other words, she was trapped like a sardine in can in her own damn power armour while the woman curiously circled around her, inspecting her armour and weapon with a detached interest that make Ciel feel like a museum exhibit.

Not that this vault dweller probably knew what the hell a museum even was.

Vault 45 wasn’t one that Ciel was familiar with. She’d never seen the entrance anywhere, and it was her first time seeing a jumpsuit from it. All that really meant, though, was she didn’t know what flavour of crazy this woman was.

It still seemed familiar though, somehow.

That was when the woman had found Ciel’s pack and started rooting through it.

“Stop that,” Ciel had snapped, but obviously, it had been to no avail.

“Ooh, what’s all this stuff, anyway?” the woman said.

“The contents of that pack belong to the Brotherhood of Steel, and-”

“I know who they belong to, I want to know what they are,” the woman interrupted her, and then paused. “Actually, I guess I don’t know who belong too, other than the organization thing. Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Paladin Ciel, and as a ranking officer of the last legitimate branch of the US Government, I command you-”

“Ciel, huh? That’s a kind of pretty name. Are you pretty, Ciel? Oh, my name’s Arcueid, by the way. I have a last name, though. It’s Brunestud! It’s okay that you don’t, though. Shiki said that most Wastelanders don’t have one.”

“I am not a Wastelander!” Ciel snapped.

“Oh. Are you brotherhood guys from a vault too? Are you wearing a vault suit under there? Hold on, lemme check.”

“Check?! What do you mean check-”

To Ciel’s horror, Arcueid balanced on top of a nearby fallen Mr. Gusty to reach up to Ciel’s helmet, and, with disturbing strength, twisted it off like she was opening a can and threw it aside.

Ciel blinked at her. Arcueid blinked back.

“Oh,” she said. “Guess you are pretty, Ciel. That’s pretty funny. Get it? Pretty funny?”

Ciel scowled at her.

“I didn’t ask your opinion,” she snapped. “And you just damaged Brotherhood property. As official military hardware of the United States, willfully damaging it is borderland trea-”

Arc placed her hand over Ciel’s mouth, cutting off the rest of her sentence. Then she laughed in delight as Ciel’s angry yells were reduced to mumbling.

“Hahaha! You look sooo mad, Ciel.”

And Ciel was mad. Furious, in fact.

Unfortunately, mad wasn’t the only thing Ciel was feeling right now.

Ciel was not one for sexual promiscuity. Or sexual activity in general. She was devoted to her duty, after all. But, well, she’d grown up in the Brotherhood of Steel. She hadn’t always been a Paladin. When you were a trainee, there was a certain… encouragement to spend time off duty, not studying or training. And in that time you were further… permitted to experiment.

Long, awkward story short, Ciel was never going to be able look Scribe Henson in the eye ever again, and she’d found out that she was into girls and furthermore, into bondage.

So a girl who, Ciel was loathe to admit, was very attractive, and also playing with her while she couldn’t move? That was making Ciel furious, but also more than a little turned on.

“Hee hee. I should find a marker,” Arcueid said. Before Ciel could find out what nefarious plans she had with that, though, a beep came from her waist, and Arcueid frowned.

“Aw,” she said. “The power armour is going to reactivate soon… hmm, what to do, what to do…”

She pondered for a minute, and then smiled. “Okay! It’s boring exploring on my own, so I’ll give you a choice, Ciel!”

Ciel stared at her, confused.

“Either you stop being so mean and we can work together and loot this place together- I take the cool gun and you can have all the computers and stuff if you like technology so much. Or…”

Suddenly, the smile vanished from her face, replaced with an utterly flat expression. Her eyes widened as her pupils dilated, and her sclera flooded with blood, turning red in an instant, her iris flashing gold like they’d been dipped in metal.

Her fingers tightened around Ciel’s face, feeling like an iron vice slowly tightening around her.

When she spoke again, her voice was low and cold, with an edge of menace so palpable that Ciel’s arousal disappeared in a flash of fear.

“Or I crush your head and paint the inside of that power armour with your blood so thoroughly that no one will wear it ever again without smelling your rotting corpse.”

Ciel’s eyes widened as the fingers pressed harder.

“Nod or shake your head. Five seconds.”

Ciel’s brain raced. Her training didn’t cover anything like this. She still couldn’t move. After seeing what she’d done to that helmet, the threat didn’t seem like a bluff. Her head was already starting to hurt from the fingertips digging into her.

“Four.”

Was there any guide to this? Any procedure at all? Was there some secret way to escape power armour? To self-destruct it maybe?

“Three.”

If she couldn’t escape, was she just supposed to die here? Was there some way to communicate the threat to the brotherhood this woman posed with her death? Could she leave some kind of dying message?

“Two.”

A statement from one of her trainers popped into her head.

Don’t get cocky out there, alright? Retreat and bargaining are always an option. I don’t have any use for a dead hero when I could have a live soldier.

“One.”

Ciel nodded rapidly.

There was a terrible pause, where Arcueid’s eyes met Ciel’s, scanning her for sincerity.

And then, as suddenly as the change had come, it was gone. Arcueid’s eyes returned to normal, and the pressure on Ciel’s head vanished as Arcueid raised her hands above her head in triumph.

“Yay! A new companion!” she cheered, jumping off the robot and doing a little victorious pose. “Shiki always says all the fun places are too dangerous, so I have to go alone! But you were going here anyway, so you’ll come with me, right? Plus, you have to have all sorts of new stories! This is gonna be great!”

Ciel’s power armour flickered back to life as Arcueid celebrated. She flexed her fingers experimentally, and then picked up the helmet.

Sure enough, it was ruined.

Sighing, she tucked it into her pack for later repair.

As she followed the vault dweller into the facility, Ciel finally realized why Vault 45 had seemed familiar.

She hadn’t ever heard of Vault 45. But she’d heard of Serum 45. A “cure” for FEV, that had succeeded in reversing many mutations, but only partially. An attempt to make a cross between Super Mutants and humans, with the strength of the former and the intelligence of the latter. A project eventually made obsolete by advances in the Super Mutant process, but at the time of the vaults, that hadn’t happened yet. If Vault 45 was their testing ground…

Ciel watched the door of the facility close behind the two of them, and wondered just what she’d locked herself in a military base with.

#tsukhime #nasufemslashweek #arciel

4 notes · View notes

effortlessweightloss · 11 days

Text

Why Meal Prepping Is the Ultimate Life Hack for Busy Professionals

We’ve all been there—you get home after a long day at work, too tired to cook, and end up ordering takeout or grabbing something unhealthy. If this sounds familiar, then meal prepping might be the solution you’ve been searching for.

For busy professionals, meal prepping is one of the most effective ways to save time, eat healthier, and reduce stress. With just a little planning, you can have nutritious meals ready to go for the entire week, cutting down on decision fatigue and giving you back precious hours in your day.

In this article, we’ll dive into the benefits of meal prepping and how you can get started today.

1. Save Time and Reduce Stress

One of the biggest advantages of meal prepping is the amount of time it saves. Instead of cooking every night, you can prepare all your meals in one session—whether that’s on the weekend or a designated day off.

Here’s how meal prepping saves time:

Batch cooking: Cook multiple meals at once, so you only have to clean up once.

Quick reheating: Simply grab your pre-prepared meal, heat it up, and you’re good to go in minutes.

No decision-making: You won’t waste time thinking about what to eat each day.

For busy professionals, eliminating daily meal decisions means more time to focus on work, family, and self-care. It’s the ultimate stress reducer!

2. Ensure a Balanced and Nutritious Diet

When you’re busy, it’s easy to fall into the trap of unhealthy eating. Fast food, snacks, and processed meals may seem convenient, but they often lack the nutrients your body needs to thrive.

Meal prepping allows you to:

Control portions: By prepping your meals in advance, you can ensure you’re eating the right portion sizes.

Balance your diet: Plan meals that include a mix of proteins, healthy fats, and complex carbohydrates.

Avoid processed foods: Preparing your own meals ensures you’re eating fresh, whole foods instead of highly processed options.

By taking the time to plan and prep, you’re ensuring your body gets the nutrients it needs to stay energized and focused throughout the day.

3. Save Money by Avoiding Takeout and Eating Out

Another major benefit of meal prepping is the money you save. Eating out or ordering takeout every day adds up quickly, especially if you’re doing it multiple times a week. Meal prepping allows you to:

Buy in bulk: Purchasing ingredients in larger quantities is often more cost-effective.

Eliminate waste: With planned meals, you’re less likely to waste food.

Stick to a budget: Meal prepping helps you avoid the temptation of pricey last-minute meals.

In the long run, prepping your own meals can lead to significant savings, both in time and money.

4. Stay Consistent with Your Health Goals

Meal prepping isn’t just about convenience—it’s a powerful tool for staying on track with your health and fitness goals. Whether you’re aiming to lose weight, build muscle, or simply eat healthier, meal prepping ensures that you always have the right foods on hand.

Some tips for staying consistent include:

Prep snacks, too: In addition to full meals, prep healthy snacks like fruit, nuts, or yogurt.

Try new recipes: Don’t let meal prepping get boring. Experiment with new recipes to keep things interesting.

Set aside time each week: Make meal prep part of your routine by scheduling it into your calendar.

By committing to meal prepping, you’re setting yourself up for long-term success and consistency in your healthy eating habits.

Conclusion: Take Control of Your Nutrition with Meal Prepping

For busy professionals, meal prepping is a game-changer. It simplifies your life, saves you time and money, and helps you stick to your health goals. Start small, build your meal-prepping routine, and watch how it transforms not only your diet but also your overall productivity and well-being.

#PrepHacks #BusyProfessionals #HealthyEating #TimeSavingTips #NutritionGoals #MealPrepLife #FoodPrep #HealthAndWellness

#health & fitness #healthylifestyle #wealth

0 notes

th3houseofleaves · 3 months

Text

CAN'T you KISS ME just to KISS ME?

or are you only capable of loving me when you think of him?

INTRODUCING thana pham, an original character belonging to the death's design universe. she is loosely inspired by misa amane of death note. thana is played by star slade.

thana pham is a twenty-four year old college student in the last year of her bachelor’s program. on the side she earns money as an influencer on social media who posts fashion + makeup tips, ootd videos, and self care + mental health videos. she has a decent following because of her warm personality and the recent surge in popularity for goth & alternative styles.

her life changes for the worst the day she moves in across from casimir anderson; her charming neighbor who would eventually become her boyfriend, though their relationship is built on lies and manipulation. she loves casimir with her whole heart, so much so that she is willing to take a life for them, but they aren't capable of loving her the same way. she falls for their lies and falls hard, letting them rope her into their quest for justice.

she becomes the second killer known as THANATOS, she is the invisible half of the unequal partnership. no one considers that thanatos could be two people, everything seems to point towards one killer, one mastermind, one person behind it all. the only reason she becomes a direct accomplice is to cover for cas when baz gets too close to finding out that his hunch is correct, they are the self proclaimed god of death.

while casimir views thana as little more than a pawn, and basil is too wrapped up in the case (and casimir's orbit) to form an opinion of her, she is dangerous in her own right. her fierce loyalty to cas – and others in her inner circle – makes her reckless and willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe and happy. even when it means killing the people that casimir tells her to. she's incredibly smart, though she's constantly underestimated because people see her and only see her interests, without considering that there is more to her than she shows the world.

thana is also not the oblivious, lovesick fool that both cas and baz assume she is. she is more than aware that their relationship with each other is. . . different. part of her hopes that cas at least feels something for her, she doubts it, but that one stubborn part of her holds out hope that one day, they'll stop looking at him and look at her and realise that she's loved them unconditionally the entire time.

she doesn't hate baz either. she doesn't blame him for whatever his relationship with cas is. she knows that casimir is not perfect. they're a well dressed disaster masquerading as someone in perfect control at all times. they hide it so well that even they believe that that part of their mask is real – but thana knows them. she's seen them for who they really are and loved them in spite of it. even if they'd never want her back in the same way.

despite her role in the crimes of thanatos, she is never punished for the blood on her hands. after their reign is over, she tries to continue life as normal, putting all of it behind her. she buries the truth of thanatos with casimir and basil. no one will ever know who the killer was or how they killed without touching their targets.

death comes for its book and she hands it over willingly after it tells her of how cas betrayed her. death, if it was truly bound to the whims of a human, was supposed to take thana that day. her death was the final piece in casimir's plan to eliminate anything and anyone that stood in the way of their era of justice.

it shocks her how easy it is to move on from everything.

from the power trips and casimir's voice in her ear, offering her empty praise and telling her their targets for the day. from casual touches and baz handing her documents and asking (in that way he did that wasn't really asking but was more a silent pleading. his face was always more expressive than his words were and she could read him like a book.) her to read it aloud to him, the way he'd told her one night, on accident, that he had a hard time reading – dyslexia made it hard enough, the fact that english was not his first language, it wasn't even his second, didn't help matters either.

she misses them. she misses all of it really. but it's surprisingly easy to shut the door on that part of her life.

template credit: @anahilation

psd credit: @kaijucatrph

#labyrinth // edit #labyrinth // muse intro #labyrinth // aesthetic #minotaur // thana pham #the house // lore drop #template credit: anahilation #psd credit: kaijucatrph #the house // death's design

1 note · View note

bethanythebogwitch · 4 months

Text

Digimon fanfic chapter 7 draft

Link to published chapters on Ao3

Andrew was feeling exceptionally pleased with himself as the view of the D-Brigade’s mobile command center came into view. Of the seven Cargodramon returning from the excavation site, Andrew and his partner Green were in the one that had the severed claw of Machinedramon strapped to its undercarriage. He didn’t trust anyone else to monitor the artifact they had fought a small war to get. His Cargodramon was surrounded by the others in a formation designed to protect the artifact and himself against attack, though very few Digimon would be foolish enough to attack seven Ultimate-level Digimon even if they weren’t with the famed D-Brigade.

The fleet made touchdown outside of the command center, with the exception of Andrew’s Cardogramon, which hovered in place long enough for the soldiers from the other crafts to unstrap the claw from its undercarriage and carry it out of the way. Andrew finally stepped out and ordered the claw taken to storage and kept under guard. A Sealsdramon approached from the command center.

“The General requests your presence,” it said in its kind’s typical monotone whisper.

“Good, I was just about to go see him,” Andrew responded. “Take me to him.”

The Sealsdramon wordlessly turned and led Andrew not into the mobile command center as he expected, but around it to a cave hidden behind some shrubbery. “The general is within,” it said.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, but he and Green entered the cave to find a mass of machinery and vats of liquid that were being serviced by the D-Brigade’s engineers. General Tankdramon was watching their activity, but turned to face Andrew when he entered the cave.

“It’s done,” Andrew said, smugly. “The data remnant of Machinedramon is ours.”

“Excellent,” responded the General. “Phase one of the stratagem is done. Phase two will be commenced immediately.”

Andrew smiled. He could almost see his utopia, the new world he would make where cruelty, incompetence, and injustice would never be tolerated and everything would work as it should. Soon, nothing would stand in his way, not even his idiot brother and former friend. Daniel had his chance to turn back, but clearly he had chosen otherwise. Though it brought Andrew no joy, he knew that Daniel and Clark had to be eliminated.

“What is all this anyway?” Andrew asked, gesturing toward the machinery that filled the cavern.

“That is why I had you meet me here,” Replied the General. “Seize them and confiscate his Digivice.”

Before Andrew could respond, a metal hand snatched his Digivice off of his belt and shoved him to the ground. Next to him, Green was forced to the ground as well, his arms twisted behind his back by a Sealsdramon.

“What the hell are you doing?” Andrew screamed in rage at his captors. “I am your client! The D-Brigade answers to me!”

“I beg your pardon, but you are not the D-Brigade’s client. I am.”

A new Digimon had entered the cave and Andrew had to twist his head to see it. He had never encountered this species before. It looked like a goat, but stood upright and had large, white hands and a pair of bat-like wings emerging from the shoulders. Something buried deep in Andrew’s neck seemed to respond to its presence, emitting a sickly, warm sensation.

“You mustn't blame the General for deceiving you into believing this whole exercise was your idea,” continued the Digimon. “That was entirely my idea and it took quite a bit of effort on my part to convince him to go along with the plan. He was quite reluctant to form a false contract with you. The D-Brigade do pride themselves on their reputation of loyalty to their clients after all.”

“Who the hell are you?” spat Andrew.

“Ah, of course, how rude of me not to make proper introductions. You may call me Mephistomon, and I am the one who has been pulling your strings, puppet. I needed a human for my plan and the General recommended you from a past adventure. Once you were here, it was a simple matter of implanting you and your partner with my special Dark Spores and allowing them to germinate within you, corrupting you with darkness as the Spores grew in power. Now that you have retrieved the data remnant of Machinedramon I only need to retrieve that which I have given you and your part in all this will be over.”

Mephistomon pulled out a device that looked ominously like an excessively large syringe and stepped over Green. It pushed the type of the syringe into Green's neck, ignoring his jolt of pain. Pulling back the plunger caused a small object to pop into the glass body of Mephistomon’s tool. It was a small ball, no larger than a thumbnail, black in color and covered in spikes. Green grunted in pain, but managed to hold back a scream. His eyes were angry and his teeth bared, but as soon as the object, the Dark Spore, emerged from his neck, Green’s expression changed to one of confusion and horror.

Andrew wasn’t concerned about the state his partner was in. He was too busy being furious. How dare these insects betray me! This was my plan! My victory! I WILL get my revenge!

“I’ll kill all of you,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “I’ll kill you and when you come back, I’ll kill you again. I’ll make you pay for this.”

“I hardly see how that will be possible,” replied Mephistomon, decidedly unimpressed. The glass body of the tool popped out, revealing itself to be a vial that contained the small, black object. Mephisotom hummed to itself as it placed another empty vial in the syringe and turned to Andrew. “I suggest you hold very still for this. You humans are so very fragile compared to Digimon. If you move too much I could cause quite a bit of damage to your nervous system. And we don’t want you dead quite yet.”

Whatever Andrew wanted to say in response was cut off by the pain of the metal syringe piercing the back of his neck. Ice-cold pain shot down his spine and through his nerves. He forced down a scream of pain. He refused to give his enemies the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But soon he would hear them scream, he would-

Mephistomon pulled back on the plunger and suddenly everything changed. Andrew lost his concentration and let out a yelp of pain as clarity flooded into his mind. The pain lessened as Mephistomon removed the syringe from his neck, but the physical pain was not what hurt Andrew the most. In the moment the Dark Spore was removed Andrew experienced clarity, his mind wiped free of the Spore’s influence. In that moment, Andrew realized what he had become.

I- I’m a monster.

“Two Dark Spores, ready to bloom,” Mephistomon’s voice sounded awed at what he held in his hand. “Exactly what we need for phase two. As for you two,” He looked down at Andrew and Green. “I leave you in the care of the General.”

“Attach them to the machinery,” ordered General Tankdramon. “They will serve as batteries. We will drain the energy produced by the DigiDestined/Digimon bond to Digivolve the troops.”

“Andrew!” yelled Green. As he said then, Andrew’s Digivice, still clutched in the claws of one of the Sealsdramon, began to glow.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Groundramon!

Mephistomon, Tankdramon, and the Sealsdramon were thrown backwards by the explosive growth of Green as part of the cave collapsed. General Tankdramon angrily shoved his way out of a pile of boulders and shouted at the engineers to inspect the Digivolution machine for damage, then turned to the client. Mephistomon was looking at the cave entrance, which was now considerably larger. Just outside of the cave, a massive tunnel had been opened in the ground. The human and his partner were gone.

“My scouts will track them down,” declared. The general, hiding his anger.

“I suggest you do so quickly,” Mephistomon was still maintaining its image of false politeness. “If your forces cannot capture them, kill them. Digivolving the Brigade would be useful, but not necessary for the plan. As for me, I will begin phase two. With both artifacts in our possession and the Dark Spores to fuse them, we will soon be unstoppable.”

Miles away and hours later, Green placed Andrew on the ground and de-Digivolved. He had emerged from the tunnel he dug a while back and moved over land. It would be foolish to give the D-Brigade’s scouts a direct line to them.

“We can’t stay long,” Green said. “I’m too tired to stay Digivolved and they’ll find us if we stay.”

Andrew slumped against a tree, his eyes empty.

“Andrew?”

“Just let them,” he said.

“What are you saying? They’ll kill us or turn us into batteries.”

“I know that!” Android shouted. “Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve to get away! I- I killed so many-” His voice choked off, unable to finish his sentence.

“That wasn’t really you, was it? It was that thing, the Dark Spore. When it was taken out of me, It was like I was suddenly a different person. No, it was like I was back to being me after I changed.”

Andrew shook his head. “Those things I did and thought, they weren’t that different from what I normally think, just way more extreme. Those thoughts, I think they were already inside me. I think the Spore just showed me who I am.”

“I don’t believe that,” shouted Green. “I know you! I know you would never do those things normally. You can’t blame yourself for what happened because that wasn’t you!”

“What about you, what happened to you?” Asked his partner.

Green thought back, and the memories made him shudder. “I just wanted to do what you said no matter what. I didn't care about who I was hurting, just as long as I obeyed you.”

There was a pause before Andrew asked “Do you think you can live knowing that? Because I don’t know if I can live with what I did.”

Green gasped, then his eyes narrowed and he delivered a kick right to Andrew’s shin.

“Ow!” Andrew gasped as the sharp claws on Green’s foot left pinpricks in his skin.

“Don’t say that!” Green yelled. “Don’t ever say that! I won’t let you just lay down and die! I’ll drag you out of here if I have to!”

“As you should.”

Green and Andrew looked up to see that a lion clad in obsidian armor had somehow snuck up on them

Who are you?” Green said as he moved in between Andrew and the visitor.

“My name is JagerLoweemon, and I am here to help.”

---------

Three children walked through the desert, carrying their Digimon partners. Clark was in the lead while Daniel and Keiko followed, whispering to each other and eyeing the older boy.

“I guess I owe you an explanation.” The sound of Clark’s voice startled the other two. It was the first thing he had said since the battle earlier.

Daniel responded first. “Yeah, that would be good.”

“If Tsukaimon were awake she’d say it’s the least you owe us,” Keiko added.

Clark took a deep breath, then began.

“Back when Andrew and I were brought to the Digital World, he got his partner right away, but I didn't. All I got was a Digivice that didn’t do anything. I thought I didn’t belong here and Gennai, er, Benjamin made a mistake bringing me. It wasn’t until we met up with the D-Brigade that I met my partner.” He looked down at the sleeping, bomb-shaped Digimon in his arms.

“Your partner was in the D-Brigade?” Daniel asked.

Clark nodded. “I was surprised too. Commandramon 1G1 was one of the members of the Brigade we were working with. My Digivice activated when we first met, but neither of us were interested in being partners. He couldn’t imagine being loyal to anyone but the Brigade and I… well, I have issues with militaries.”

A familiar scene shot through Clark’s head. One of him and a crowd gazing at a coffin draped in the American flag.

“Did you eventually work things out?” asked Keiko.

“Yeah, eventually, but not before I almost got both of us killed,” Clark said. “I didn’t fit in with our group. Andrew was our leader, he had the partner that could Digivolve. The Brigade did a lot of the heavy lifting. And then there was me, the human with a partner he couldn’t even get along with, let alone Digivolve. So I tried to leave, and Commandramon followed me.”

-------

“What are you doing?”

Clark turned to see Commandramon 1G1, his alleged partner, had spotted him.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” responded Commandramon. “You are under the D-Brigade’s protection. And my partner.”

Clark turned and walked away. Commandramon followed him into the woods. “How long are you going to follow me?” demanded Clark.

“Until you return,” said Commandramon.

“Look, this isn’t working out. We don’t get along. I’m useless. So why not just leave me alone?” The last word practically came out as a shout.

“I don’t think you’re useless.”

Clark snorted. “Andrew’s the leader. He’s the one with a partner he gets along with and can actually Digivolve. I’m just dead weight.”

“Clark-”

“Don’t try to deny it. I can’t do anything helpful. I can’t even-”

“CLARK GET DOWN!”

Clark suddenly found himself being shoved from behind, sending him crashing to the dusty ground of the forest path. He rolled over to see Commandramon on his back, his arms holding open the jaws of a Digimon that looked like a stretched-out red wolf whose legs were covered in belts. Commandramon clearly couldn’t reach for a weapon without the jaws snapping shut on him and his muscles were straining to keep them open.

Clark scrambled to his feet. “Commandramon! W-what do I do?”

Commandramon grunted in exertion, then spoke. “Run back to camp. Get help.”

“I-I can’t just leave you,” Clark protested. He was no fighter, but the boy could tell that Commandramon’s strength would give out before that.

“It’s the only chance! You were ready to leave before, so go now!” Commandramon shouted back. Clark swallowed, then ran past Commandramon and the other Digimon, back in the direction of camp.

He would never make it in time. Commandramon knew this was an unwinnable position, but at least his partner may get to safety before becoming the attacking Fangmon’s next meal. Commandramon closed his eyes.

I hope that in my next life I may prove to be of greater use to the D-Brigade. And maybe, just maybe, I can meet Clark again.

The Fangmon grunted in pain and Commandramon’s eyes shot open. A rock had hit the beast Digimon in the eye. Commandramon looked over to see Clark standing in the forest path, preparing to throw another rock.

“What are you doing?” Demanded Commandramon as fear washed over him.

“I told you I can’t just leave,” said Clark. His voice wavered and he shook, but despite the fear he stood strong and threw the rock.

The rock hit Fangmon and suddenly the pressure on Commandramon’s arms vanished. In a split second, the Fangmon released Commandramon and turned to leap at Clark, its mouth slavering and claws extended. Clark dropped his remaining rock and raised him arms in a futile effort to protect himself as Commandramon screamed “CLARK!”

Commandramon Digivolve to… Sealsdramon!

A metal arm grabbed the Fangmon’s tail and pulled, hurling the Digimon away from Clark. Where Commandramon had stood was a larger dinosaur Digimon, fully encased in metal and with lens-like eyes and a pair of shoulder-mounted knife holsters.

“Commandramon? Is that you?” asked Clark.

Sealsdramon nodded. “It’s Sealsdramon now. You came back for me, now it’s my turn to protect you.” The cyborg Digimon then turned to the Fangmon, who had regained its footing and was snarling at the pair of partners. “I will deal with this.”

The Fangmon roared in challenge, then charged. Sealsdramon drew a knife from one of its twin holsters and ducked under its leap, slashing upwards and leaving a deep cut in Fangmon’s belly. Fangmon howled in pain, but landed on its feet and whirled around to face Sealsdramon again.

“Blast Coffin!” A burst of red energy shot out of Fangmon’s maw. Sealsdramon moved with a swiftness and nimbleness that seemed unfitting for his metal body, dodging around the attack and closing the distance with the wolf.

“Death Behind,” Fangmon’s eyes widened as Sealsdramon leapt onto its back and drove a knife through the base of its head. The wolf Digimon didn’t even have time to make a noise before exploding into raw data and disappearing.

Sealsdramon reverted back to Commandramon as Clark ran over. “I told you, Clark, you aren’t useless. Just like the D-Brigade, we are stronger when we work together.”

“I guess you’re right,” replied Clark. “Man, you took that thing down in no time!”

Commandramon nodded. “Are you ready to return to camp? You have proven you have a place here.”

Clark nodded. “Let’s go.”

----------

“That’s so nice,” said Keiko, “I’m glad you ended up getting along.”

Clark nodded. “It was nice. I could finally help out now that me and Commandramon could work together. We got our crests and everything. Then me, Andrew, our partners, and the D-Brigade attacked Gigadramon’s army. In the end it was me and Andrew and Commandramon and Green versus a souped-up Gigadramon. And we won. Gigadramon was deleted and his army was scattered,” Clark sighed. “And that’s where it went wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Daniel.

Clark’s face fell. “Gennai’s contract with the D-Brigade said they would work with us until Gigadramon was defeated. Once we won, Commandramon had to make a choice. Stay with the D-Brigade or stay with me.”

“That’s horrible!” Gasped Keiko.

“It wasn’t easy for him, but he went back to the Brigade,” said Clark. “The D-Brigade are raised on loyalty to each other. Asking one to leave is like asking a fish to climb a tree. Plus, if Commandramon did leave the Brigade, they probably would have killed him. So in the end, he left me. The Brigade wouldn’t let me stay around, so we went our separate ways. Andrew went back to the human world, but I had nothing for me back there. I convinced Gennai to let me stay here and help him out with stuff.” He paused. “I guess I thought if I stayed here I might get another chance to meet Commandramon. Didn’t really go the way I’d hoped it would.”

“You know what?” Daniel said. “I think it’ll work out. I don’t know why he attacked us, but there was definitely something off about him in that form. Now that you two are together, you can find out what happened and make sure it never does again. Just like how I’m going to get Andrew and Green back. We’ll make it work out.”

Clark started to say something, then stopped and thought for a minute. He finally spoke up. “I was going to say I don’t know if it would work out like that. But I think you might be right. I’ve been alone for too long. I always thought the worst would happen. But now that me and Commandramon are together again, I think you’re right. It will work out if we work for it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Said Daniel, with Keiko nodding along.

“Thanks, guys,’ responded Clark. “Now we have a ways to go and need to get moving. I’m not going soft on you just because of this,” and with that, he increased his pace.

The other two humans groaned, but followed him.

----------

Metal-clad paws pounded against stone and sand as JagerLoweemon ran through the desert, Green and Andrew on his back. They had been moving for hours now, but the lion Digimon showed no signs of stopping or tiring out.

“You’re sure you're taking us to Daniel and Clark?” asked Green once again.

“No,” said JagerLoweemon, “I did not ask their names but this group matches your description and are the only humans in the Digital World that I am aware of.”

“I’m just surprised you’d met them is all. The odds of you meeting them and us is.. I don’t even know.”

“It is not so strange,” replied the lion. “I was searching for ones afflicted with darkness to offer aid. I could sense the presence of darkness in the two of you, but did not dare approach while you remained with the D-Brigade. When the source of darkness, the Dark Spores, were removed from you, I followed your path.”

“If you tracked us, the D-Brigade will definitely be able to track us,” Green realized.

“Indeed. That is one of the reasons I am taking you to the group of DigiDestined I met. You will need their help when the D-Brigade comes for you. The other reason is that one of the humans is going through something very similar to your partner.”

Andrew muttered something indistinct and did not look convinced. Green looked back at his partner sadly for a second. It hurt, not being able to help him. Instead, the little dragon looked forward again and continued the conversation.

“And you know where they are?”

“Not precisely,” admitted JagerLoweemon, “but I know where they are going. The Subroutine Jungle. I am hoping to intercept their path.”

That got Andrew to look up from his brooding. The Subroutine Jungle? Home of Baihumon? What on earth are Daniel and Clark going there for?

JagerLoweemon crested a ridge, then stopped and sniffed the air. He made a satisfied noise. “Luck is on our side. I have the scent of a Dark Spore. They are not far.”

-----

As the sun sunk below the horizon, Clark, Daniel, and Keiko set up camp in a flat clearing between several large peaks and relayed the day’s revelations to their awake but still tired and weak partners. Blue was willing to accept Commandramon as a friend, though Tsukaimon remained wary and kept an eye on the newcomer’s baby form.

“Lay off him, Tsukaimon,” Keiko scolded. “Even if he wanted to hurt us still he can’t exactly do it like this.”

“I don’t think either of us blame her, honestly,” replied Clark. “No offense, Commandramon, but as soon as you can talk again we really do need an explanation.”

Somehow, the three-eyed bomb managed to look sheepish.

The Digimon present suddenly perked up. “Something’s coming,” said Tsukaimon.

“Fast,” added Blue.

Clark swore. “Hide, all of you.”

“Too late, It’s here,” said Blue.

Into the clearing skidded a mass of black and gold metal. Most of the team present reacted in shock at what they saw.

“JagerLoweemon?” “Green?” “Andrew?!”

Green jumped down from JagerLoweemon’s back and gave Andrew’s leg a tug, getting the human to do the same. The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, before Green spoke up.

“I, uh, don’t really know what to say,” he admitted, “but we need your help. And… we’re sorry.”

Everyone started talking at once, the questions overlapping into an unintelligible mess of noise. Why are you here, what happened, are you still evil, why are you with them, is this the JagerLoweemon you were talking about…

The din was finally broken by JagerLoweemon roaring, startling everybody into silence.

“I can confirm that the source of darkness within these two is gone,” he said, “Now they need your help. Ask your questions of each other. I will go keep watch. We may have been followed.” With that, JagerLoweemon leapt up, jumping between the peaks surrounding the clearing until he reached the top of the tallest one.

“So it really was a Dark Spore that made you act like that,” Daniel half asked and half exclaimed. “But you’re back now, right? You’re better?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, his voice weak and shaky, “We’re back. But we aren’t staying.”

“What?” Exclaimed everyone present, including Green.

“What are you talking about, of course we’re staying!” Shouted Green.

“How?” asked Andrew. “How can we stay? After what we did. What I did. I can’t even face Daniel and Clark like this.” Indeed, he couldn’t meet his brother or friend’s eyes.

“But… You’re better now,” Daniel seemed to be trying to convince himself along with his brother. The Andrew that stood before him seemed almost as alien as the one under the Dark Spore’s influence. Andrew was confident and always read to jump in. This one seemed defeated, like a husk of his former self.

“Those things you did, they felt right at the time, didn’t they? Like something you would do normally?”

Andrew looked up in shock at the girl, the one traveling with Daniel and Clark whose name he didn’t know. He hadn’t given her a second thought after seeing her at the Caps Lock Crater, and yet somehow she had just summed up his experience perfectly.

“H-how?” He asked.

“Because I went through the same thing,” she said, much to his shock.

“JagerLoweemon said someone here went through the same thing as us! This must be her!” Green said.

“My name is Keiko,” she said. “My Dark Spore made me arrogant and cruel. It made me think of other people as insects. And it seemed so natural. I was turned into the worst version of myself and I never even noticed. But the important part is that I got better. Heck, I know people who had it way worse than me, and they got better too.

Andrew was tearing up. He managed to choke out one word. “How?”

“I can help you with that,” Keiko said, “but in the end only you can make yourself better.”

“But I’ll help!” Daniel butted in. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. And Green too.”

“Yeah!” Said Blue, “You got my help!”

“And me,” added Clark.

Andrew dropped to his knees as tears poured down his face. “Thank you,” he choked out. “Thank you all so much.”

Before anyone could say anything else, JagerLoweemon landed in the clearing, having left the peak.

“The D-Brigade is coming, three Cargodramon. I do not know if they know our precise location.”

“Those Cargodramon are probably full of soldiers,” Clark added. “This is bad. Can any of you Digivolve to Ultimate?”

“I can,” said Green. “I’ve had time to rest.”

“We got our asses kicked earlier today,” said Tsukaimon. “I honestly don’t know if I can get there.”

“Then we need to sneak attack them before they can overwhelm us,” Clark stated. “JagerLoweemon, can you help?”

“I will do what I can, but I cannot face three Ultimates on my own,” said the lion.

“Come on, Blue, we have to try, right?” Daniel held out his crest as his partner nodded.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Nope, can’t do it.

Blue collapsed on the ground in his Coredramon form. “Sorry, guys, this is as far as I can go.”

“Here, let me try,” Said Tsukaimon.

Tsukaimon Digivolve to… Oh come on!

Tsukaimon didn’t even manage to get to her Champion form before collapsing.

“You did get beat up worse than me,” Blue tried to assuage Tsukaimon’s frustration. Naturally, it didn’t work.

“Then it is up to the two of us,” said JagerLoweemon.

“I’m not good at fighting flying enemies,” Green added.

“Then I will try to knock them out of the sky.” With that, JagerLoweemon leapt back up to the clifftops.

“Come on, Andrew, I’ll need more space than this to Digivolve.” Green walked out of the clearing and the other humans and Digimon followed him.

The sound of Cargodramon engines were clearly audible by the time Green found enough space to fit his Ultimate level form.

“Alright, Andrew, let’s do this!” Green. Andrew Nodded and held out his crest.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Dracomon!

“Uhh, Green, it didn’t work,” said Blue.

Green looked down at himself to see he had not Digivolved. “Huh? What happened?”

“Andrew,” said Clark, “Your heart’s not in it, is it?”

Andrew was breathing heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can help. What if we just make things worse?”

From above came the sound of an explosion. With a horrible whining noise, a Cargodramon fell from the sky and crashed somewhere out of sight with a thunderous explosion. Sounds of gunfire started up as the remaining two Cargodramon began firing their miniguns.

“Come on, Andrew!” shouted Green. “JagerLoweemon is up there risking his life for us! We need to help!”

“I know!” Yelled Andrew. “I’m trying but I can’t! I’m- I’m scared!” He started to say something else, but suddenly found Clark’s hand in front of his face. Clutched between his fingers was a crest marked with three interlocking yellow circles.

“Do you remember when we got these?” Clark asked. “Mine is the crest of loyalty. What’s yours?”

“The crest of duty,” answered Andrew.

“That’s right,” said Clark. “You always said you want to make the world a better place. Well, part of that is making up for your mistakes. You got your mind messed with by the Dark Spore, you did awful things. Now pick up after yourself. Make amends.”

“That’s right,” Daniel added. “You’re the one who told me you need to fix your mistakes. I believe in you, Andrew.”

Andrew took a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re right. I need to make up for what I did. Starting with saving our lives right now.” His crest began to glow, releasing a deep green light. “You ready, Green?”

“Heck yeah, Andrew! And I have an idea. Blue, want to help out?”

Blue nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

-----

“Schwarz Donner!” JagerLoweemon spat a burst of black energy at one of the Cargodramon, but it rose in the air to avoid the attack. JagerLoweemon had taken out one of the D-Brigade Digimon in a sneak attack, but the other two were proving very difficult to fight. Now aware of his presence, the two remaining Cargodramon were systematically hunting him as he leapt from peak to peak. Their teamwork was impeccable. They provided cover for each other and attacked from different directions with their guns and onboard crew to keep the lion on the move and deny him the chance to strike. JagerLoweemon ducked behind a rock that was quickly obliterated by gunfire. As he leapt to the next bit of cover, he saw something. A blue Coredramon flying into the sky holding a Dracomon in its arms.

What in the Digital World are they doing? Thought JagerLoweemon. A second later, he got his answer when the Coredramon flew over the two Cargodramon and dropped his payload.

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Groundramon!

In the blink of an eye, a behemoth appeared above the two D-Brigade Digimon, its incredible bulk plummeting toward them.

“Scrapless Claw!” Each of Groundramon’s massive wing arms grabbed onto one of the two Cargodramon before they could react. Now pulled downward by the dragon’s momentum, each of them were crushed against the sides of the cliffs, ground to scrap with the crew inside crushed into raw data. Before hitting the ground, Groundramon de-Digivolved back to Dracomon just in time to be caught by the blue Coredramon.

JagerLoweemon followed the two down to the ground, where they were reuniting with the humans.

“That was either the most brilliant or most reckless thing I have ever seen. Probably both.”

“Yeah,” said the one called Clark. “They’re good at that.”

“Thanks, everyone,” said Andrew. “I really needed that. I think I’m ready to start working on myself now.”

“And we’ll be here to help you,” said Daniel. “All of us.”

“And we’re going to start,” Clark said, “By getting you some sleep.”

Yes, JagerLoweemon thought to himself, these two are in good hands.

0 notes