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homemediatimemachine · 1 year

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Was "The Best of Dr. Seuss" Really His Best Works?

Butter battles, daisies growing on heads and elephants hatching eggs galore, 2000's "The Best of Dr. Seuss" compilation program has the formulaic balance of entertainment that I'm sure that a child would love, right? Of course, we can see Dr. Seuss' beloved character The Cat in the Hat all over the packaging and your kid must think "Hey, it's that cat from the book I just read!". And you'd be correct. This is the 2003 DVD version I'll be covering here on this blog.

The first thing you'll notice right away when you pop in the disc is the menu design which pulls off some creative work the home video team at Warner Bros. had ever put out.

As you can see, the menus themselves are drawn in Dr. Seuss' trademark art style with some detailed backgrounds. The Cat on both these and the packaging looked like he was traced from the book he originated from. However, you are not going to be ready for what he looks like in one of these stories.

Although all of these menus are presented in 16:9 widescreen if you play them on a computer like I do, the contents are actually in 4:3 aspect ratio. So, let's go through all three stories one at a time and see if they're a good fit on this DVD.

First, we have "Daisy-Head Mayzie", a TV special completed in 1994 -- given the copyright disclaimer, but never aired on TV until February 5, 1995. This would be one of Seuss' final works before he passed away. The special was previously released individually on VHS a few months after its original broadcast, and was also the final voice credit for Henry Gibson; already recognizable as the voice of Wilbur the pig from Hanna-Barbera's "Charlotte's Web" adaptation. A real coincidence, given that both Gibson and H-B worked on this, too.

Fran Smith, the voice of Helga in Nickelodeon's "Hey Arnold!" would make her voice acting debut in this special as the titular Mayzie McGrew. Now this is a year before that show would even premiere on TV, so I'm not surprised.

Yeah, this would be forgettable without the addition of The Cat in the Hat, which in this special looked A LOT more off-model than he does in the DePatie-Freleng specials. It almost makes it feel like a bootleg version of Seuss' popular character compared to what the packaging and menus gave us. Oh well, at least they tried.

One reason I like to know why they made him that way in the first place was this is a co-production between two unlikely companies that never even made any Dr. Seuss adaptations beforehand.

As you may have just read from the credits, a British animation studio named Tony Collingwood Productions (now known as "Collingwood & Co.") was largely responsible for the production of this special.

So, you may get some Britishness in the way it was produced. Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, an otherwise American studio that got rebranded in 2001 as "Cartoon Network Studios",

I've never actually seen Hanna-Barbera work on a Dr. Seuss special before (rival studio DePatie-Freleng did most of their Seuss specials prior to this), so it is kinda interesting to see a British-American joint venture.

The special itself was.... eh, it was okay. I kinda prefer Seuss' original illustrations made before they were changed (the daisy being the only character to teach Mayzie a valuable lesson instead of The Cat), but I think this would be something interesting if you're a parent looking for entertainment for your youngest child.

As for the quality? For a previously-separate TV special, it sure looked better on DVD than it ever does, due to it being remastered from the original material (at least for 2003 standards). While not Seuss' greatest work overall, it's so nice to see this being presented in clear pristine quality.

Another previously-separate TV special is adult film director Ralph Bakshi's version of "The Butter Battle Book", and is surprisingly better than I thought. It's accurate to the original source material and has rarely even been talked about due to its themes of war.

The original book had even gotten as far as having been banned in some Canadian libraries due to its close ties with the Cold War, which was still ongoing at the time of its publication.

Now prove me wrong, I have never actually seen any of Bakshi's works, but this is something. I love how Bakshi and his team are able to keep the ending from the book, which ends the story on a cliffhanger. This was also released on VHS, but unlike "Daisy-Head Mayzie", there's actually TWO different releases of the same special released a few years from each other.

Although a much better special than "Daisy-Head Mayzie", the picture quality has the same level of squeaky clean quality as that special, so I'll forgo the explanation.

And to wrap up the compilation came not a TV special, but a cartoon short film created by Warner Bros. themselves! You heard me right. The boys at Termite Terrace made a 9-minute adaptation of Dr. Seuss' earlier book "Horton Hatches the Egg".

Directed by Bob Clampett, this is an unexpected surprise to anyone who grew up with any of Dr. Seuss' works (like me). What makes this especially perfect is the vocal performances of Kent Rogers, Sara Berner and Mel Blanc. Now, why did they make Horton's skin pink? Either it's a creative choice made by Clampett's unit or they felt that grey was too common for an elephant's color.

There IS a distinction between this and the other two Dr. Seuss stories I've covered so far and that as this is a Looney Tunes cartoon, it has actually had some home video releases in the 90s by both MGM/UA and Warner Bros.

Also, the picture quality on this cartoon has the same level of excellence as the Golden Collection. So much so that it got re-released on DVD as part of the sixth volume of the Looney Tunes: Golden Collection series (which I'll get to when I'll do an entire blog on this series by itself).

Time to move onto the bonus features this DVD has.

So... all there is as extras are three trailers (or "Family Favorites" as the menus call them). Each of these trailers are for a collection of Tom & Jerry DVDs, the annoying little brat Caillou's Christmas-themed movie and a German animated film called "The Little Polar Bear" ("Der Kleine Eisbär").

You do have language options for the program itself, though they're for subtitles only. A real disappointment for those of you who are expecting dubs. I will admit, watching these in a subtitled language can be pretty fun, no matter if you're Hispanic or French-Canadian.

Overall, if you are able to watch these three Dr. Seuss cartoons, I highly recommend picking up the 2008 Deluxe Edition "Horton Hears a Who" DVD. And in case you haven't read the copyright disclaimer on the cover, my copy is a 2010 reprint.

And by reprint, I mean the Warner Bros. home video department updated the packaging, but nothing else. This is something I'll see a lot more of when I look at a few other Warner DVD releases on this blog. So, keep an eye out!

By the way, both "Daisy-Head Mayzie" and "The Butter Battle Book" are free to watch on YouTube despite being under copyright. "Horton Hatches the Egg", however, is another story and is usually blocked worldwide on YouTube (I learned the hard way on how copyright works on there, so good luck watching it on Dailymotion if you can!)

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venusiansilk · 4 months

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𝐎𝐇 ?

꒰ your egg just hatched, @heresan ! ꒱ — sukuna \ teachers \ blind date.

◞♡ MISTER UNREASONABLE.

sukuna may be the most hated teacher alive, but it doesn’t make him immune to a desire for love. or, two teachers walk into a poetry slam for a blind date.

f!reader ⊹ no curses, teacher au ⊹ fluff. lil angst. humor. kinda enemies to lovers ⊹ sukuna's a jerk as usual. everyone's a hs teacher. yuuji x todo poetry bromance. satoru n sukuna are friends ⊹ 4.3k lol ⊹ footnote. here it is, tina! thank you so much for attending my event! i wasn’t able to fit everything i wanted because the word count got brazy. i hope you enjoy!

꒰ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

ryomen sukuna may just be the most hated teacher on all of campus, absolutely loathed by students and teachers alike. in his mind, it matters not if others find him likeable or intolerable. the result of such a decision is personal; that’s not his concern nor is it his business. he’s intended to enrich the minds of his students, not become their friend. he’s supposed to prepare them for the mercilessness of reality, not coddle them.

sukuna is no gojo satoru; he has no desire to meet the youth where they stand in their childishness just to teach them. he doesn’t want to revel in all their senselessness with them. gojo satoru is the most liked, but he’s hardly the best teacher. sukuna is no nanami kento; he refuses to hold their hands and protect them from their mistakes. in his eyes, their stumbling is a means of development. it gives them individual depth; it helps them determine their own meaning and cultivate their own merit based on what values their subjective experience insists they prioritize. nanami kento is the most entrusted, but he’s still a step below the best teacher. and sukuna is no you, most certainly no you; he’d sooner perish than perform the sheer amount of mental gymnastics you do to ensure all your wording, teaching, and intent is coated in honey and well-received. you’re the most caring and the most cared for, but you don’t even begin to scratch the surface of being the best teacher. but sukuna, even for all his standoffish demeanor and strict boundaries, even for all his intolerance and impatience, even for all his frustration and his dismissal, he’s the best teacher here. you all know it; you all hate it. he knows it; he knew it before any of those standardized test results signaled it. his methods feel cruel and they aren’t ideal; no other teacher would dare implement his rigid grading system that leaves zero wiggle room for noncompliance but plenty for creativity ꒰ despite what you all think and say. ꒱

the results his students yield are an endless testament to sukuna’s success at equipping them with tools and allowing them to develop the skills to adequately use them. he’ll correct their inconsistencies, sure, but he’ll never lie to their faces about what he thinks of their capacity as it stands. he doesn’t care to have them daydreaming about where they could go. he wants them to acknowledge exactly where they’re at. his sole endeavor as a cultivator of minds is to instill the strength and willingness to critically observe literary material, which in turn gives them the capacity and ability to critically observe themselves and the way they’re present in every environment they encounter. contrary to popular belief, he wants his students to be better than him. and so, he can never go easy on them. he can only lead them to the cusps of their potential and shove them over with a borderline menacing smirk. and as he listens to the likes of itadori yuuji and aoi todo recite a joint poem for their reattempt at an assignment, he recalls exactly why he’ll never entertain their foolishness. “jennifer, o jennifer,” yuuji muses dramatically. “your eyes a dazzling reflection of my yearning…” todo’s eyes are squeezed shut as he recites, “jennifer, o jennifer! i see you parade around every corner of my daydreams.” “AND YET!” yuuji yells, slamming his fist onto the surface of the podium that stands at the head of the class. “YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE LOVE MY HEART CAN HOLD FOR YOU.” in shock, sukuna’s lips part as he stares ahead at the two troublesome boys while they startle the classroom with yet another dramatic recital of a poem that will most assuredly become inappropriate. “jesus christ,” he hears kugisaki grumble. “JENNIFERRRRRRRR,” todo yells, stretching out the end of the name with a passionate fist held high as his voice descends down to a whisper. “my jennifer.” “your chest, your voluptuous bosso—” sukuna holds up a flat palm. “enough,”

confusion befalls yuuji. his head tilts to the side. “why’d you stop us? we were getting to the best part!” “considering you’ve failed for the third time in a row at this assignment, i assure you that you were not.” “WE FAILED?!” the two boys shout in unison. “AGAIN?! HOW?” an exasperated sigh leaves his lips. “not only is this poem the end result of a dumpster fire and highly inappropriate yet again, but you once again did not follow a single instruction.” “untrue!” todo protests. “you said it needed to be a poem about our greatest desire!” a roll of the eyes. “i did not. i said to write a poem that embodies the concept of an emotion; for example, a great desire. not only that, but the poem was to be a quatrain. this is a couplet, at best.” “well how am i supposed to know the difference?” yuuji says, his voice in a light panic. “i worked so hard on this poem.” sukuna evaluates the copy of the poem he holds in his hand. inwardly, he admits that yuuji’s ability to weave imagery and eloquent speech is present, but he doesn’t take his assignments seriously enough. “you earned points for creativity but none for anything else. this was your last chance to correct this, if i recall.” yuuji’s eyes become wide and sad, lips forming into a pout as he stares at his teacher with a silent plea in his eyes, a plea that sukuna will gladly ignore. sukuna firmly believes if these simple-minded brats would follow the very simple directions he lays out, they wouldn’t be struggling to pass his class and devoting all their free time to meaningless busy work that he routinely reminds them they can avoid if they set aside their need for instant gratification and concentrated on their academic efforts instead. todo looks frustrated, angry eyes glued down at his feet as he suffers through his third humiliation. “b-but!” yuuji tries, only to be met with the shake of sukuna’s head. “please, mr. ryomen! if i fail this class, my mom will take away all my games and manga!” a soft snort. “i imagine your grades will improve drastically should that occur. take your seats.” “sir, please!” hard eyes glare into innocence. “do you think i’m running some kind of circus for you to entertain us all in? if so, i should fail you for boring me. i have one hour to teach you something and lately, i spend a quarter of my time bickering with the two of you about using very basic levels of comprehension to execute a simple task. sit. down.” and they do, with all their grief and disillusion in tow.

when class ends, sukuna revels in the silence of his free period before his next group arrives. he sighs, reading over yuuji’s poem again. a problem child most certainly, but a creative one who excels in writing but fails to pay attention to what it is he’s intended to write. sukuna aims to help him understand the importance of discipline and execute it. sure, he’s disappointed now, but with this failure under his belt, sukuna believes his next assignment will be much closer to what he’s been asked to do. if he knows yuuji, and he does, the boy will still fail to follow a very specific direction, but he’ll get closer, and sukuna will acknowledge the improvement but yuuji won’t receive the reflection of his efforts in points. sukuna is adamant about the boundary of only distributing the points when he executes the task correctly, not for his efforts of doing such a thing. he doesn’t offer participation trophies. a gentle knock at his classroom door pulls him out of his thoughts. sukuna peers up from the top of his glasses noticing you standing in the doorway holding up a pink slip of paper that he’s quite familiar with.

so he’s requesting to be removed. insolent brat.

“and what do i owe the displeasure of seeing you?” he asks, looking back down at the papers he intends to grade. “can i help you?” with a sigh, you enter the room fully and pull up a chair to sit beside his desk. “my classroom is full and it’s breaking my heart to keep turning away all the students who don’t see a future while having you as their teacher.” this is precisely why sukuna can’t stand you. you’re hardly a rival, teaching in the only alternative class for first years to take english, but each time he has the misfortune of making conversation with you, you speak to him as if you are. “get stronger at rejecting them then.” he counters with ease. “it’s character building.” your voice gets quieter. “itadori yuuji came to me crying. your class is giving him a level of anxiety he’s quite literally unable to manage. he’s a child, sukuna.” “mr. ryomen is fine, thank you.” he grumbles. “yuuji’s inability to turn in his assignments on time and follow my very simple directions has little to do with me and everything to do with him. he’s not a child. he’s a teenage boy who we’re expected to prepare for the harsh realities of the real world. do you think his behavior will be accepted in any workplace? no, it won’t. he’ll be terminated. and do you think they’ll care if he comes into their office crying about the consequences of his own shortcomings? they won’t. an average employee is a dime a dozen. he’s not great enough to afford his slacking.” for a moment, you sit there in silence and despite not looking your way even once, not even sparing you a single glance, he can feel the disappointment rolling off of you in thick waves that crash into him. “his grandfather just died. it’s already hard enough for him to come to school, mister unreasonable.”

and my wife left me yet here i am each day, dragging my feet into this rundown building without making excuses for not meeting the mark.

sukuna doesn’t speak it aloud, of course. he has enough empathy to keep some of his hatefulness at bay. “and my condolences are with him and his family. i already suggested to his mother that she withdraw him for the time being but yuuji made the decision to return. if he can exercise the autonomy to choose to stay, then he can exercise the autonomy to do his work adequately. i will not hold him to separate expectations because of his circumstances. i would have to do it for all of my students, and where would that leave those who do not have a soul-crushing event that warrants them room to frolic?” “have you considered that, perhaps, all your students deserve a little room to make mistakes and correct them?” you inquire through gritted teeth. “i swear you have no heart.” he winces, the words slicing through him just as sharply as the memory of his ex-wife uttering identical words as she rallied her loved ones to assist her in leaving him behind with the future they were supposed to share in love. “if having a heart were enough to teach these students in a way that matters, i imagine your test scores would be higher. and yet, they’re one of the lowest. i appreciate your concern for my student, but he will simply have to make peace with his failures and let the shame he feels fuel him into accomplishment.” without another word, you slam the pink slip down onto his desk and huff harshly as you stomp out of the room. he doesn’t understand why you bother time and time again.

you hold their hands and soothe them when they cry. it’s no wonder they have poor self-regulation.

ryomen sukuna has one friend, and it’s the man that he has the least amount of tolerance for: gojo satoru. even after being told repeatedly that he’s disinterested in being friends, disinterested in having him involved in his personal affairs, disinterested in any level of personal connection outside of the work environment they both share, satoru insists. he insisted upon himself until the frightful day came that ryomen sukuna lost the only person he had ever brought himself to love, and in response called satoru to sit beside him at a bar in total silence while he drank. he didn’t need to do anything. sukuna just needed to convince himself that there was another being in this world ꒰ besides the one that walked out on him ꒱ who had a shred of care in their hearts for him. satoru came without question, came without speaking, came without apologizing for his loss when sukuna uttered the words ‘she left me’. satoru offered him a soft ‘oh shit’ and ordered another drink for him when his glass emptied out. since then, at the very least, they’re on a first-name basis but hardly a friendly one, despite what satoru continues to believe. “so guess what i got for my loving best friend who adores me so very much.” satoru sings as he enters the teacher’s lounge and throws an arm haphazardly over his shoulder. sukuna shakes his arm off of him and proceeds to sneer. “don’t touch me.” “well someone’s a grumpy cat today.” satoru mumbles. “so what’s got your panties in a wedgie?” a disgusted scoff and a demand that comes through gritted teeth. “don’t be lewd.” “but it’s part of my charm.” satoru says with an exaggerated pout. sukuna sighs. “what do you want, satoru?” “well,” he sings, sitting in a chair adjacent to where sukuna stands at the coffee machine, legs sprawled out wide. “you have a blind date tonight.” an immediate response. sukuna spins to face him, nostrils flaring. “no, i don’t.” “oh, come on!” satoru groans. “you can’t seriously spend the rest of your life hung up on your ex.” “i don’t plan to.” he seethes. “but i don’t plan to date, either.” satoru shrugs carelessly. “okay, so just show up and give her even a little charm so you can bust a nut before you bust a blood vessel.” “not only am i uninterested in dating, but i would never date anyone you suggested for me.” of course, the snow-haired man is offended, a palm flat against his chest. “excuse me, i have great taste in women. you’re just a prude.” “you don’t have taste in anything, especially women.” sukuna grumbles. satoru ignores him at first, instead redirecting his attention to his phone before mumbling, “i didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.” after he speaks, he turns the screen of the phone in sukuna’s direction to which he’s met with a post on facebook of all places where the words ‘ryomen yuki is in a relationship with fushiguro toji’ are in bold letters across the screen with two identical photos side-by-side, both a sporting a matching picture of them together. for a moment, his mouth goes dry. the grip he has on his empty mug tightens until he hears and feels the ceramic starting to crack in his grasp.

she’s already moving on. she’s already found someone to replace me. her love was everything to me and mine was nothing to her, a gift that came with proof of purchase so she could return it at will.

unable to continue staring at his greatest loss to date, he turns his back to satoru, the mug slamming down into pieces on the counter.

so it’s really over then. six months of half-expecting you to return because you never bothered to change your name back. another thing you took from me and ran off with. shamelessly. with no remorse. another display of my fragility that you keep attached to you like a badge of honor. your trophy for murdering a deathless man.

“i’m sorry to spring this on you like this.” satoru says, the sadness evident in his voice. “but i think it’d do you some good to get back out there.” he’s been trying for months to get sukuna to test the waters with someone new, but he admittedly held out for his ex-wife. now, all the rumination and theorizing of returns seems pointless. silly. a wasted effort. his patience becomes another labor of love that she won’t reciprocate or return back to him, either. it’s at that moment that he decides enough is enough and he can’t leave his heart in layover, waiting to be carried to a destination he’ll never see again. with a heavy heart, sukuna mumbles, “fine, i’ll go.” “atta boy,” satoru says, pleased with his results as he stands and grips sukuna’s shoulders. “and i don’t mean this in a kind of way, but don’t scare the poor girl away, okay?” sukuna’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head to gaze at him. “and just what is that supposed to mean?” “it means…” his voice trails as he hums thoughtfully. “be anything but yourself.”

great, another woman to court with only the idea of me and the potential of the man i could become. not the man i already am.

“i can hear the emo engine revving.” satoru sings. “i don’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, but you’re harsh and you know it. actually attempt pleasantries. chivalry. niceties, you know? women like that. they don’t want an unreasonable brute.” a roll of his eyes. “whatever, where am i to meet her? what’s her name? what does she…like?” “i’m not telling you anything about her, but i did suggest a date at that bar you like that does poetry slams on fridays. so, at the very least, you both have that in common. you like to wallow over useless things.” sukuna hums, not entirely opposed to a poetry slam attendance as a first date, a blind meeting. as a man quite passionate about literature in general, this sounds like a safe option. he can speak less and listen intently. that should be enough to conceal what satoru won’t openly call his awful demanor.

sukuna will never trust satoru again, will never let him set a nosy foot into his life’s affairs. he never should have. he should have known he was toying with him, should have known that he wouldn’t set him up on a date without going so far out of his way to make a fool of him. he arrives at the bar with a single, long stem black rose in hand, a gentle symbol of the potential beginning he has to offer, dressed in his favorite deep olive sweater-vest, a white button-up underneath with an elegant black tie tucked into a deep v neckline, and casual but suitable black slacks. for the first time in a long time, he parts his hair and gels it specifically, nanami kento in mind as he does so, a testament to what he believes is the way a respectable man would present himself to a woman he may want to sincerely court, should things go well. he waits outside the establishment, unusually nervous but still simmering in a hushed excitement at the possibility of finally laying the death of his first love to rest. he’s grown sick of being a man made into a mausoleum. he stands right where he tells satoru he’ll be. it doesn’t take long to cling to the notion that all his diligence is a waste of time because now you stand before him staring at him in utter shock and it infuriates him. what’s even worse is how undoubtedly gorgeous you look in the sleeveless white dress clinging to the shape of your body, the semi-deep neckline showing off the prettiness of your smooth skin and highlighting your assets while not blatantly displaying them. it’s alluring modesty that colors him in the most vibrant shade of surprise. he’s never seen you outside of class, never seen you outside of oversized, fuzzy cardigans and dress pants. he’s never seen your ankles outside of black, cotton socks and penny loafers, but now he knows exactly what fiber looks like flowing around the shape of your thighs. if you were to inquire with him regarding the subject of you, he’s never spared you more than passing glances because he finds the weakness in your general demeanor and over-indulgence in decorum to be particularly disgusting. to him, critically evaluating your level of attractiveness would be a truly pointless endeavor, especially considering he only observes you in a work environment. naturally, he keeps all of his curiosities centered around responsibilities that just so happen to involve you both. but now, as you stand before him with widened eyes, shock gazing over shock, sukuna can’t help but memorize you from head to toe. it isn’t to say that you intrigue him; it is simply to consider why on earth satoru would organize a date with you or have the audacity to believe he would want this.

i should surely kill him for this.

“you’re my blind date?” you ask incredulously. sukuna sighs, frustration causing his head to lull back and briefly glance at the clarity of the evening sky. “it appears so.” “why the fuck would shoko think i want to go out with the likes of you?” you ask, an air of offense littering your tone. the expression contorting your features aimed at him causes a dull pang in his chest. not because he cares, but because even sukuna isn’t immune to the consequences of harsh rejection in the face of his own anticipation. the disgust for him is not only evident in the look on your face ꒰ brows raised, eyes full of disdain, nose scrunched, and your lips curved downward ꒱ but it’s indisputable in the tone of your voice. of course, he doesn’t care for you to find him attractive, but the blatant distaste aimed at him when he showed up all the same as you, expecting to engage with someone who could haply lessen the severity of his pain, if even only for a moment, is admittedly disappointing. “gee, thanks,” he grumbles. you whine, a groan ascending into a saddened pout as your foot stomps lightly against concrete. “i wore my best dress for you?” “are you a child?” sukuna snaps at you, taking in your actions with his own observable revulsion. “contain yourself. you act as if we aren’t in public.” your lips tighten into a straight line, eyes dying as you look at him. “don’t act like you’re not disappointed, too.” he snorts. “disappointed is an abysmal understatement. do you think i’m thrilled to see you? i came here under the impression i might end up liking the person i met.” your arms fold over your chest as you grumble, “i highly doubt they’d end up liking you.” “and i highly doubt they’d end up liking you.” he retorts with ease. “it appears this is a fruitless exertion of energy.” as if you don’t hear a single word he says, your eyes fixate on his hand which clutches the stem of a rose now fallen haphazardly at his side. “was that for me?” you ask softly, gesturing to it. a grunt as he realizes he still holds the physical marker of yet another romantic failure. “i guess. here.” he thrusts it towards you spitefully, sneering. he expects you to reject it, to which he plans to let it fall to the ground, abandoned as he makes his way back home to sip his weight in roscato, but you become a peculiar creature before him and reach to take it out of his hand, twirling the stem between your thumb and index finger as the softest smile takes your lips. you don’t look at him as you speak. “a black rose seems like an unorthodox flower to gift for a first date.” sighing, he parts his lips to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance, as you continue on. “but really, it symbolizes tragedy and rebirth.” surprisingly, you’re correct. his intensely irritated expression, unbeknownst to him, subdues and softens then. “yes,” he murmurs. “it was supposed to, at least.” you stay still for a moment, observing the rose carefully before you look up at him again. sukuna’s eyes subtly widen as he notices a tiny shimmer in yours, the littlest spark of curiosity twinkling as you gaze at him. “i spent a lot of time getting ready.” you state tenderly. “i’d…i’d rather not go home empty-handed, you know? and i admit, i was looking forward to this poetry slam.” for the first time in all of the time he’s known you, sukuna’s voice doesn’t carry an undertone of detest when he replies. “as was i. my favorite poet confirmed they’d be performing this evening.” “so is mine.” you admit sheepishly with a wispy sigh. “kenjaku, he’s one of the greatest poets of our time.” now, sukuna’s eyes enlarge with palpable shock. “kenjaku is also your favorite? i thought he was an undiscovered gem, but i wholeheartedly agree. truly one of the best poets of our time. he said he’d be revealing a new work on stage this evening.”

silence passes between the two of you, sukuna’s hands stuffing into the pockets of his slacks as he begins to rock on his heels. he would never admit it, but that shared preference is enough to cultivate his willingness to linger, enough to craft an ache to endure the evening despite his preconceived notions. you eye the entrance, peeking at him from your peripheral vision. “should we…just enjoy the evening? i mean, we’re already here. and there’s a bar, too.” “there is.” “which means i can drink away the extent of how insufferable you are.” a playful grin on your lips as you hold out your hand to him. “shall we?” he stares at your hand before scoffing and leaving it resting without being touched, moving towards the entrance to hold the door open for you as he avoids your gaze. “after you,”

#! 𝐄𝐌 𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐀 !#jjk #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk fluff #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #𖥨. ݁ 𝐛𝐲 𝒗𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒌 ꒱ ֺ🩰ৎ

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twilightprince101 · 3 years

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So I made an SCP entry for Bugsnax...

I thought with the ending and all of the disturbing stuff that this game has, it would fit perfectly with SCP stuff. Not to mention, there has to be an SCP equivalent in the Grumpus world. GCP? SGP? SCG? I dunno man, have some horror writing about muppets.

SCP-3470: Sentient Sustenance

[Heavy spoilers for Bugsnax ending]

Item #: SCP-3470 aka “Snaktooth Island”

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: Due to its nature of being a landmass the most SCP teams can do is obscure its location to the populus. Efforts have been made to create rumors of numerous shipwrecks--akin to SCP-605 “Bermuda Triangle”--to deter the public from exploring the location. If unauthorized ships are witnessed crossing into the restricted zone, they are to be terminated immediately. Addendum: Due to the recent insubordination of Dr. [REDACTED]. All authorized personnel that enter or exit SCP-3470 are to be subjected to a rigorous screening process to ensure that no instances of SCP-3470-A are brought out of the restricted area without B Class Permission or higher. Further precautions being considered are a 10 minute test in which personnel seeking access to SCP-3470 are to be placed into an empty room with an instance of SCP-3470-A. If SCP personnel show any signs of wishing to consume SCP-3470-A, they are to be removed from the team immediately. Permission from Professor [REDACTED]. Is awaiting approval.

Description: SCP-3470 is a large landmass off of the coast of [REDACTED]. Spanning 50 mi^2 and nearing 1.5 mi in height. Several sections of SCP-3470 are flux in weather patterns, ranging from lush forests to arid deserts in the span of 3 miles. Although similar in appearance to locations such as [REDACTED]. And [REDACTED]. , further research concludes that flora are substantially different in chemical composition, containing traces of [REDACTED]. Which was only recently discovered. Due to this, nearly all flora encompassing the island are inedible, as digestion induces hazardous effects ranging from intense stomach pains to spastic vomiting.

The most significant aspect of SCP-3470 are various instances of sentient life, which are to be referred to as SCP-3470-A-[1-100]. SCP-3470-A take appearances of common food items, such as SCP-3470-A-1 [“Strabby”] taking the form of a ripe red strawberry with what appear to be dollar store googly-eyes [all instances of SCP-3470-A share the final trait]. All instances of SCP-3470-A vary in physique, behavioral patterns and similarities to their respective food item. Each instance also appears to have a “name” that it repeats ad nauseum despite not having observable mouths or vocal chords, making them easier to classify. Chemically however all are similar, containing faint traces of [REDACTED]. . This can be witnessed upon any attempt to alter SCP-3470-A instances from their base form, dissolving into an unknown inedible fluid, losing sentience in the process.

Due to SCP-3470’s flora being inedible, SCP-3470-A instances become the landmass’s only source of sustenance. Consumption of SCP-3470-A induces a drastic and instance side-effect of modifying the consumer’s limbs, thereby becoming SCP-3470-B. The limbs of SCP-3470-B instances vary depending on the instance of SCP-3470-A that has been consumed, alongside how many instances have been consumed prior to said event. Fundamentally however, all limbs modified take on the appearance of whatever the SCP-3470-A instance was impersonating. The more instances a subject consumes the more of their body transforms, beginning with the hands and feet and extending to the entire torso and face. The internal functions of the body remain intact along with full autonomous control, however the structure and physique of transformed limbs change drastically, such as an SCP-3470-B instance’s arm transforming into a banana after consuming an instance of SCP-3470-A-12 [“Banooper”]. These transformations subside in time [correlating to amount of SCP-3470-A instances consumed], with SCP-3470-B limbs reverting back to their original state, containing faint traces of [REDACTED].

Addendum 3470-B: Increased Exposure

Proceeding with experimentation with SCP-3470-A instances under Prof. [REDACTED]. , extended exposure and consumption of SCP-3470-A instances results in increasing addictive tendencies and side effects. File below contains audio files of experiments with Personnel D-125.

Dr. [REDACTED].: D-Class 125, approach SCP 3470-A-45.

D-125: What is…? Ok, seriously what the grump is this??? Like, I signed up for this expecting a lot of horrifying stuff, but-did someone slap googly-eyes on a piece of corn?!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : 125, please approach SCP-3470-A-45.

D-125: Yeah, yeah, alright. So… (to A-45 after approach), what are you supposed to be then? Did Dr. [REDACTED]. Have their kid put their arts and crafts project on display or-

A-45: Cobhopper!

D-125: GRUMPIN WHA- IT JUST TALKED?! IT MOVED IT’S LOOKING AT ME!!!

Dr. [REDACTED].: (whispering) so much for being the ‘toughest D-class around… ‘

D-125: So you’re telling me I just… eat it? The eyes too?

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Correct. Do not worry, upon further testing the eyes seem to be made of a material akin to valentine’s candy hearts (lie).

D-125: Huh… alright then. Down the hatch, I guess?

Sounds of eating, cries of A-45

Dr. [REDACTED]. : D-125, describe the flavor.

D-125: It’s… good actually! I was honestly expecting the insides to be guts or poison or something, but it’s actually pretty good! Nice and buttered to, a bit of salt? Reminds me of my mom’s barbeque.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : And the sensation of your leg transforming?

D-125: Huh? (125 looks down and notices their leg transformed into a head of corn). Oh… Well this is pretty cool I guess.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Any uncomfortable sensations?

D-125: Not really no. It’s weird… I can still feel my toes, but it’s like a peg leg. Actually, I think I can see a few kernels wiggling if I try. Neat!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Is… that it?

D-125: Yeah I think so, *chuckles,* this is actually pretty cool!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Hmm… (To recorder) Despite initial panic from witnessing A-45, subject D-125 has adjusted to transformation with record pace. Further research required.

D-125: Heya doc!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Greetings D-125. Have you adjusted to recent transformations?

D-125: Yeah it’s been going alright. The pineapple hair is a pretty nice dew all things considered, and the bacon tongue makes me look like a snake. I like it!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Pleased to hear it. Now, approach SCP-3470-A-52.

D-125: Alright, what’s on the menu today then? Who’re you little guy?

A-52: Sodi-D Sodi-D!

D-125: Huh, a drink this time. Change of pace I guess.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Please consume A-52.

D-125: Right away ma’am. Sir. Whatever.

Sound of soda can opening and drinking, cries of A-52.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : (To recorder) Upon the first drop of A-52’s fluid, transformation has already occurred, transforming the subject's ears into what appear to be soda can tabs. No further transformations appear to occur on consecutive gulps-wha (To D-125) Sir?!

Sounds of crunching, further cries of A-52, then silence.

D-125: Not bad! I don’t usually drink soda, beer’s more my thing personally, but it was pretty sweet! Just the right amount of sugar. And hey, new accessory!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : ...D-125, why did you eat A-52’s shell?

D-125: Huh?

Dr. [REDACTED]. : The… the can. Nobody has attempted to consume the can.

D-125: Oh. Uh…

Silence for 7 seconds

D-125: I dunno, I guess since the eyes were edible on the other guys, I thought the can would be here? Wasn’t too hard to eat, kinda like biting into ice. Didn’t hurt.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Very… interesting. This will be recorded for future experiments, thank you D-125.

D-125: No prob. And hey, call me Chuffee.

D-125: Hehey, candy corn teeth! Pretty sharp too, should make eating these things even easier!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : D-125, you’re nearing complete bodily transformation. Have you been experiencing any discomfort as of late? Any anomalies?

D-125: Nope, in fact I feel great! I used to have this crink in my back for the longest time, but now it’s gone! I’m more limber than I’ve been in ages!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Fascinating… very well then, thank you for your time.

D-125: ...wait, what? That’s it?

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Hm?

D-125: There isn’t any more left? I thought there would be a bit more.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : *sigh,* D-125, we’ve went over this last time. We cannot give you more than one instance a day due to 3470-A’s high caloric count. The instance you just ate was over twenty th-

D-125: You know you keep saying that. Didn’t you guys want to really figure out what’s with these things? When I ate that soda can you said yourself that nobody’s tried that before, so let’s go further! I’m still hungry anyways, I’m craving a burger if you got any like that.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Sir, please exit the room. I cannot give you any more than what I am authorized.

D-125: ……..You know, it’s interesting how your window is so high up there. I can hardly see you.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : ...excuse me?

D-125: You heard me [REDACTED]. , I can barely see you from down here. You can see exactly how I change, the new stuff I get… but I can’t see yours.

Silence for 15 seconds.

D-125: I know you’re holding out on me up there [REDACTED]. .

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Sir, I’ve told you countless times already. I can’t give you any more than I’m authorized.

D-125: (Sarcasm) Oh yeah, suuure. For all I know you guys are feasting away on these things up there, while leaving me for dust! Like seriously, a single popcorn kernel?! That’s it?!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Sir, that is all I can give you today. Please exi-

Sound of a door opening

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Wh- Professor [REDACTED]. ?

Professor [REDACTED]. : Hello D-125.

D-125: Oh great, another snob to tell me what to do. If you aren’t gonna feed me, then just shut up already! My stomach’s growling like crazy, and I’m not leaving until I get my meal!

Professor [REDACTED]. : Not to worry D-125, I’m fully prepared to grant your wish.

D-125: ...wait, really?

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Professor, what are you-

Professor [REDACTED]. : I listened to the log of your previous meal, and you raised a good point. If we at the SCP foundation wish to fully understand what these creatures are capable of, we must push the boundaries of what we believe are possible. So then…

(Sound of metal grinding, several overlapping cries of SCP-3470-A instances)

D-125: Oh, my…

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Professor, what are you doing?

Professor [REDACTED]. : Eat until you can’t eat anymore. Consider it my treat, to you.

D-125: Ooohohohohoooo yes!!! Now we’re talking!!! Come to papa little guys!!!

Professor [REDACTED]. : Subject so far has consumed 34 instances of 3470-A. Since consuming number 21 he has shown increased signs of vigor, despite eating half of his body mass.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Professor, please, stop him. This is-

Professor [REDACTED]. : (continuing) Upon complete transformation of limbs to SCP 3470-B instances, any further consumption appears to override a prior one. His leg, previously resembling a head of corn has transformed now into a roll of sushi. His tongue, once a strip of bacon, now a wad of chips.

D-125: (While eating) Mmmph! Oh my god, what are you a jar of pickles! More the merrier!

Sound of sloppy gulping, glass crunching, cries of SCP-3470-A-35

D-125: Ooogh, some noodles too! Love japanese food!

Sounds of rapid slurping, rapid glass crunching and licking.

Professor [REDACTED]. : Subject appears to have increased vigor in consuming 3470-A instances, not leaving a single crumb or shard left uneaten. A query: what is the chemical makeup of instances contained in glass jars or bowls? The bowls themselves? Further research required.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Chuffee please, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!

Rapid, feral sounds of crunching and slurping.

Professor [REDACTED]. : Subject has now eaten approximately eaten 1.5 times his body mass yet continues to feat, now with no regards for table manners whatsoever. I have already called for a janitor to wait outside.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Chuffee stop!! You-

Laughter, slowly increasing in volume

D-125: This!! This is the best I’ve eaten in my entire life!!!

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Chuffee please-O-oh… oh my-

Professor [REDACTED]. : Subject’s left ear has disconnected itself from its host. There appear to be no signs of blood or even markings indicating he has had one at all-there goes a tooth!

D-125: Hooooh I knew you all were holding back on me!!! This stuff is delicious, amazing, spectacular!!! I’ll never go hungry again, no more rotting on the streets!!! This is all mine, you hear me?! Mine, MINE, MINE!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH

Laughter continues for several seconds, sounds of objects falling to floor as volume slowly decreases, ending with a loud clatter.

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Ch-Chuffee, I- urp!

Sound of vomiting

Professor [REDACTED]. : Subject, after eating nearly twice his body mass, has had each limb separate from his core torso one by one, now fully resembling their respective food items, until his eyes transformed into SCP-3470-B instance, resembling the mixed nuts that made up his head. Soon after, his torso and head fell apart, scattering into mixed-nuts. I can not recognize Subject D-125 in the slurry.

More sounds of vomiting

Professor [REDACTED]. : These results are quite fascinating. Further research is required into these various side effects. End tape.

#bugsnax #scp #scp foundation #bugsnax spoilers #secure contain protect #my writing #my writings #twi talks #spoilers #((I love writing fucked up stuff like this))#tw horror #tw body horror #body horror #horror

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hippriestess · 4 years

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Part 2: Cherry-picking

Cherry Red had been releasing The Fall's new music since 2011's “Ersatz GB” and we already knew that Smith had signed a further deal with them to look after what portion of the group's catalogue he owned. They had already made a start with the handsome seven disc “Singles 1978 - 2016” box set they had released late in 2017 (alongside a cut-down three disc “A Sides” collection). The set had originally been scheduled for release in 2016 but the production deadline for the all-important Christmas market was missed and the set was held back until after “New Facts Emerge” - from which no singles were taken - had been released. Following Smith's passing, the seven-disc edition sold out and was unavailable for a short time before Cherry Red did the decent thing and made a few more.

A reissue of 1997's “Levitate” had been in the works for a while; Smith had signed off the tracklisting and there had been a trailer of sorts with a Record Store Day-only 7” of “Masquerade” in 2017. Given that the album had been in contractual limbo for quite some time with original vinyl copies fetching 3 figures on the open market, Cherry Red's first posthumous release felt like a public service, doing the right thing both by Smith and by the fans. Released towards the end of May 2018, the new 2CD/3LP edition was justly well received and some kindly reviews appeared with mostly positive re-evaluations of one of their most awkward albums. Hindsight benefits the record; if it sounds like they were falling to bits, it's because they were and now that we know not just what happened next but how the whole story of The Fall continued for another 20 years, it has context. For the record (Portugal), yr present author is no more fond of the album than she was 7 or 8 years ago but “Ol' Gang” has clicked into focus and the second disc puts those great b-sides from the “Masquerade” CD singles back onto the shelves so it would have to be considered necessary.

Less impressive was “58 Golden Greats”, released at the end of 2018. A 3CD set in a clamshell box, this was, in essence, an extended version of the classic “50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong” collection from 2004, extending the tracklist to cover the remainder(er) of the group's career. It actually expands on the original in other ways, adding several songs from the era covered in the original version; the puzzling omission of “Big New Prinz” is corrected for one thing and other singles are added such as “Oh! Brother” and “Dead Beat Descendent”. Perhaps Beggars Banquet were more co-operative this time. Whilst one could always quibble with any attempt at a Fall “best of”, yr present author was not taken with this one and my purse remained closed. 58 was an unwieldy number (why not a round 60?), the cover artwork – a spoof of a different Elvis Presley sleeve – was far from appealing and the entry-point value of “50,000...” was lost, a 3 disc set at £17 being too big a serving at too high a price for the merely curious. However, it looks as if I'm just flat-out in the wrong. As we'll continually see, Cherry Red aren't just experienced, they are also smart and do not lack savvy. I'm sat here keyboard-griping while “58 Golden Greats” is sold out. Enough said.

In 2019, Cherry Red announced the beginning of the Fall Sound Archive, the title of which gave the air of a mission to preserve The Fall's work for future generations. Inevitably, they were starting with 40th Anniversary editions of “Live At The Witch Trials” and “Dragnet”. There was early disappointment. The 3CD edition of “Live At The Witch Trials” contained the exact same music as the 2CD edition from 2004 but spread over three discs. Any thoughts that the decision at least preserved the sanctity of the original 11 song album were hampered by the 3CD edition of “Dragnet” containing, as disc 1, the exact same running order – with single and outtakes – as the 2004 CD edition. The other two discs were 2 of the little-loved “Live From The Vaults” series (of which, more later, sort of..). The archive was perhaps, not so deep.

However, the plus points were the vinyl editions, which had been hatched with obvious care. Using the rare US edition of “LATWT” with an alternate sleeve and revised running order was a clever touch and one that acknowledged that the Fall's audience would need something more than just a nice colour of vinyl before they indulged the album yet again. Similarly, “Dragnet” came with a reproduction 7” of “Rowche Rumble”, a record which originally came with the thinnest paper sleeve in the history of music. That's not to say that we didn't get coloured vinyl, oh we did - “LATWT” came of red vinyl to match the US sleeve and “Dragnet” on black and white “splatter” vinyl. These both sold well, sold quickly and sold out, now being tricky to score except on the Discogs etc market. But perhaps more to the point, they suggested that Cherry Red's experience and nouse would, at minimum, keep things interesting.

Later in 2019, the Kamera catalogue came under Cherry Red's microscope and it was another mixed set of releases. For CD buyers, a 6 disc set called “(1982)” was developed. This contained “Hex Enduction Hour”, “Room To Live” “Fall In A Hole” various single and live tracks and the “Live To Air In Melbourne” album which had previously snuck out in the late 90's when MES was broke. There was no new music to be had here at all – everything had previously been released. As such £40 was too rich a price tag for many and the edition is still easily available. The new vinyl edition of “Hex” was well particularly well presented. For the first time, the 60 minute LP was cut onto 4 sides of vinyl – a long overdue move, this did the album real justice on the format and would have to be considered an essential for those who insist on twelve-inch slabs of wax for their music. A pleasing, sturdy fold-out sleeve showed that corners were not being cut, the vinyl again matched the colour scheme of the artwork and it also came with an excellent reproduction of the sterling “Look, Know/I'm Into C.B.” 45. What spoiled it a little bit was the inclusion of a third LP with Peel Session #5 on one side and some of the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary 2CD on the other. All this really did was drive up the price – a double LP with the 7” would have been perfect and would have been less heavy on the purse *NB – this didn't stop me buying it – that's my copy in the picture...). “Room To Live” was given a vinyl reissue too, this time as a double LP with sides 3 and 4 being the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary edition. Again, this didn't quite feel like the right choice – an alternative idea would have been a single LP with a 7”. Given that the classic “Lie Dream Of A Casino Soul/Fantastic Life” single had been added to the popular, widely owned German pressing, why not add a repro of that instead? It would have cost less and added more value to the package.

Despite these whinges “(1982)” would have to be considered an elegant, practical solution to a latter-day problem and demonstrates why Cherry Red remain a market leader in catalogue reissues. Can you really sell compact discs of these albums yet again? How else do you present the music in this format? The answer to parcel the whole lot together and present it as a “year-in-the-life” was a smart one that was only hampered by an optimistic £40 price tag (which translated to as much as £58 in stores) and the artwork being based on “Hex” which could have given a more casual customer the notion that the set was Hex and 5 discs of “other” material. The bottom line here is that there is nothing else in the cupboard; as with the IAKO ballet and the Hey! Luciani play, fantasies about things like the unedited “Winter” and the full 20+ minute “And This Day” ever appearing are exactly that – fantasies. Were they ever preserved, they're gone and anything that did turn up, almost 40 years hence would likely be in such a state of degeneration as to be unlistenable. From now on, all that can be done is to keep this material out there and try to present it with a fresh angle. That's precisely what Cherry Red have done here.

Come 2020, come the challenge of reselling what is not just one of the most widely-distributed but also one of the worst Fall albums: “Reformation Post TLC”. Cherry Red stuck to type with a double LP pressed into blue and red coloured vinyl, again matching the colour to the sleeve. Undoubtedly a handsome package, this version was snapped up with some enthusiasm although it does seem that sales were likely harmed by coinciding with the early, uncertain, often panic-stricken days of the Covid-19 pandemic reaching the UK. The 4CD edition was daunting: the whole album and 2 CDs worth of outtakes and rough mixes, followed by the “Last Night At The Palais” CD. The “Last Night At The Palais” DVD was not included. Time has passed, time has healed and it is clear that RPTLC is a terrific EP stretched out beyond the energy of the participants. There is even a strong 40 minute single LP to be had within its contents but, hey it was what it was. With almost all of the unreleased mixes having no vocals, interest wears off before we got to the excellent live disc but, on the other paw, Cherry Red have done exactly what we want; it is highly unlikely that there is anything left from the album sessions; this is the whole lot, every scrap. Up to us now what we do with them.

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

Now, if you're thinking I've skipped something, you're right but the story of The Fall's posthumous discography is difficult to tell in a linear fashion. So I invite you, friends, to join me in a diversion. Cast your minds back to Record Store Day 2019.

Cherry Red played a good hand by releasing a new vinyl edition of the superb “Imperial Wax Solvent” album. As with “Levitate”, vinyl copies were going for silly money, Universal having allegedly pressed a mere 500 for the world. It was a shame that Cherry Red therefore added only another 500 copies, this time pressed into yellow vinyl. These were almost entirely snapped up on the day and copies of this edition are routinely offered at £50-60. “IWS” had, of course, been out of print since 2008, having been deleted less than 6 months after its release. As such the RSD edition of “IWS” could be said to have undersold the record somewhat. Unless, of course, a properly “available” edition, maybe with that unreleased original mix of the album was to follow at some point...more on that later.

Sadly, we must also wade through the other Fall releases that were curled out for RSD 2019. That will take us into Part 3...

#the fall #mark e smith #hex enduction hour #dragnet #live at the witch trials #reformation post tlc #1982 #room to live #craig scanlon #steve hanley #paul hanley #marc riley #karl burns #imperial wax solvent

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gmebackup · 3 years

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psychology 2 Electric boogaloo

So yesterday I posted about the psychological aspects of the entire stock craze.

Today I want to go a bit more in depth of how PSYOPS (psychological operations) normally work for military, but also how they apply to us today. if someone wants me to go in depth on how psyops is used on businesses feel free to let me know I'll do some research and post here

There is a certain order when it comes to PSYOPSIn order to create a successful PSYOP the following must be established:

1 clearly define the mission so that it aligns with national objectives 2 need a PSYOP estimate of the situation 3 prepare the plan 4 media selection 5 product development 6 pretesting - determines the probable impact of the PSYOP on the target audience 7 production and dissemination of PSYOP material 8 implementation 9 posttesting - evaluates audience responses 10 feedback

Before these steps can occur, intelligence analysts must profile potential targets in order to determine which ones it would be most beneficial to target. In order to figure this out, analysts must determine the vulnerabilities of these groups and what they would be susceptible to.

The analysts also determine the attitudes of the targets toward the current situation, their complaints, ethnic origin, frustrations, languages, problems, tensions, attitudes, motivations, and perceptions, and so on. Once the appropriate target(s) have been determined, the PSYOP can be created. this is the basic outline of how a PSYOPS work, now lets compare that to the entire GME situation

this is the basic outline of how a psyop works, now lets compare that to the entire GME situation

1 they need to find out what we think/feel and find our weakness.

this is the most simple one as we work in plain sight and let everyone see our DD

2 Can they pull this off? can they create FUD and divide our ranks?

Also easily yes

3 the plan:

Divide and conquer, make them doubt themselves and show their comrades are not as brotherly as they imagined.

4 the Media selection is also fairly easy to fill in

modern news media, meaning TV, newspapers, and reddit itself. We’ve all seen the people on tv saying we are idiots, we are dumb etc etc News article after news article stating that it’s over And here is the only one that may have actually shown to have some effect: other users Other users saying we missed the boat, other users showing their “gains” and using others to turn against each other. 5 Product development See how well it’s doing so far? 6 pretesting Can and will these things affect us? Yes and no, the media didn’t work as we could see the facts were skewed across the board, and they are still using short ladder attacks so… no Having other users spread doubt… Yes, this has worked for some people. 7 product and dissemination Normally this is where (if it was used by a military operation) it would be implemented, but due to time constraints I believe they started right after the “planning” phase in 3 8 Implementation Putting it to use, again I believe the implementation begon at point 3 9 posttesting Evaluation of the audiences response, do they react and how do they react 10 feedback If it works, at which points, if it doesn’t where and why? This last one is very easy, noticed how all mainstream news died off about the negativity towards GME BB AMC and NOK? But how the influx of new users on WSB become more prevalent? This is because they knew we didn’t give a fuck about the mainstream media, we cared about our brothers in arms.

Now with knowing some of the basics lets do a quick and dirty analysis of all of this, From end of 2020 to about 18-01-2021 the sentiment was positive. At this date we saw a wide range of implementation of the media. And everyone was saying we were stupid etc etc. Hell we even got a billionaire to cry on tv

This negative attention seemed to only bolster us in our conviction that we were and are correct in what our DD has lined out for us.

Ok so the main media networks don't work, What does?

Ok so the main media networks don't work, What does? Well lets use their main tools (reddit) against them. And what did we suddenly see since the 27th/28th? Suddenly the mod team changes, and this is very important because if you control the people who control the board you control the narrative, skewing it from positive to negative. (as we’ve seen a lot of people getting their positive posts deleted, their DD deleted etc etc) We also seen a massive influx of bots, negative posters, people showing their “gains” And this seemed to work so they stuck with it. Now look at these last paragraphs and compare them to a normal Psyops mission. Do you think they kind of align a lot? Good because this is what we have been using since as long as we can remember Some real world examples of things like this being implemented are for example: The Gleiwitz incident Hitler invaded Poland, took control of their radio tower and made it seem like Poland attacked Germany, this way he could “retaliate” without any repercussions at the time. As he was only defending his country.

Operation Bodyguard A plan to mislead the Germans during WW2 to make them think the time and place of the invasion (D-day) would take place at another time and date then it did. There are a lot of WW2 examples but I think it’s more prudent to focus on modern day as this was the beginning of modern psyops, but it has evolved a lot since then. To most people when you say “PSYOPS” they think of Vietnam, and rightly so as here we were starting to use more and more psychological methods. First off this is a very interesting read; http://www.psywarrior.com/VietnamCommanders.htmlAnd for the people who think PSYOPS are no longer used, they are and they’re still recruiting; https://www.goarmy.com/careers-and-jobs/special-operations/psyop/psyop-history.html

Vietnam;

The Phoenix program; The program was designed to identify and destroy the Viet Cong via infiltration, torture, capture, counter-terrorism, interrogation, and assassination. The CIA described it as "a set of programs that sought to attack and destroy the political infrastructure of the Viet Cong". The Phoenix Program was premised on the idea that infiltration had required local support from non-combat civilian populations, which were referred to as the "political branch" that had purportedly coordinated the insurgency.

Operation Wandering soul; Now this one is actually one that is pretty fucked up in my book, this was an OP that screwed with their heads on such a level this one should be criminal.

The VC believed at the time that the dead should be buried at home or else the soul was stuck wandering the earth aimlessly, sounds fairly normal if you believe in those things. But then the US was like “they aren’t at home right? What if we play distorted human sounds and zombie like sounds to fuck with them”. This is the gist of what happened

Check this site out for more on OP Wandering soul: http://www.psywarrior.com/wanderingsoul.html

Now to keep this a bit shorter I will give you a couple of operation names here which you can research if you want, they are important in this grander thing but or else this post would turn into another thesis on PSYOPS. Operation CHIEU HOI Operation MOCKINGBIRD (highly unclear of the scope but it does reflect a lot of what we see today in the ways of media manipulation) Operation FIELD GOAL (leaflet drop mission, much like the recent “GAINS” posts as it has the same effect, either you get convinced the squeeze is squoze or you lose morale)

Modern day(desert storm to now)

Gulf war Banknotes; This one is a very good one, as they used banknotes which had some added text to it, sounds innocent enough right?Nope this one was one of the more effective ones they used in desert storm/shield.http://www.psywarrior.com/GulfWarBanknotes.html

Give it a read because it’s too good to just give a small synopsis here.

Command Radio Solo over Iraq Because Iraq was still a technologically lagging country back then they used radio to give out propaganda, again using mainstream media to push their idiology.http://www.psywarrior.com/CommandoSoloIraqScripts.htmlThis page has everything on it, including the scripts they have used at the time.

Some other golf war things to look into:

http://www.psywarrior.com/Iraqleaflinks.html

Compare those to the disinformation we are receiving when it comes to gains and why we should sell.

Operation OBSERVANT COMPASS 2003 initially an op to get Joseph Kony and to end the “lord's resistance army in central afrika.

Toppling of Saddam Hussein statue Arguably the most visible image of the 2003 invasion of Iraq was the toppling of a statue of Saddam Hussein in Firdos Square in central Baghdad. Allegations that the event was staged have been published.

It is claimed it was actually an idea hatched by an Army psychological operations team. Allegations surfaced that not only were the cheering group of people surrounding the statue in fact smaller than they were made out to be, in media depictions, but that also the group were not local to the area and were instead brought in by the military for the specific purpose of watching and lending credence to the pre-planned toppling.

Use of music in interrogation of prisoners. Again this one is one we all know about, using heavy metal on Iraqi prisoners, as they’ve never heard heavy metal this fucks them up beyond belief. this is a more hands on PSYWAR but it's morale based

Pentagon analysts and the mainstream media In 2008, The New York Times exposed how analysts portrayed in the U.S. news media as independent and objective were in fact under the tutelage of the Pentagon.

According to the NYT:

Hidden behind that appearance of objectivity, though, is a Pentagon information apparatus that has used those analysts in a campaign to generate favorable news coverage of the administration’s wartime performance

CNN and NPR interns incident In 2000, it came to light that soldiers from the 4th Psychological Operations Group had been interning at the American news networks Cable News Network (CNN) and National Public Radio (NPR) during the late 1990s. The program was an attempt to provide its PSYOP personnel with the expertise developed by the private sector under its "Training with Industry" program.

The program caused concern about the influence these soldiers might have on American news and the programs were terminated.

National Public Radio reported on April 10, 2000:

The U.S. Army's Psychological Operations unit placed interns at CNN and NPR in 1998 and 1999. The placements at CNN were reported in the European press in February of this year and the program was terminated. The NPR placements will be reported this week in TV Guide.

Conclusion:

Am I saying the army or government is involved? No What I am saying is that most of the information regarding PSYOPS is publicly available, and anyone with a decent understanding of sociology and psychology can use this to their advantage. And I’m sure that not everyone who was in PSYOPS at one point or another, would stay there forever. These people usually branch out and use their acquired skillset and use it on the open market to get some big bucks. And while there are laws forbidding the U.S. government to use misinformation/PSYOPS on their own people, there are none for corporations, so they can still implement this. What you can see here is a fairly simple pattern and Modus Operandi. Just translate it to modern times.

-TV and Radio have been used to spread doubt about “is this over or not”.-They use twitter as an outlet showing “experts” who say we are stupid bad or nihilists, this is bait don't take it ok?

-Leaflets have been updated for the modern day, “LOOK AT MAH GAINS” “LOOK IVE SOLD SO SHOULD YOU AT AN ALL TIME LOW”, pictures are all we need instead of leaflets now. Why sell for losses? If you believed in the stock then believe in it now, even Mark Cuban said “if you can afford to hold, hold. That’s what I would do.”

Infiltration and seed Fear Uncertainty and Doubt. Make people lose faith in the cause they are in.We have seen this with bots, and real people who are suddenly in the WSB group and other groups, but it’s funny how it’s mostly concentrated on WSB no ?We have seen other members talking to people on Webull asking if they’re getting paid and they flat out said yes 20 bucks for every post with minimally 3 interactions.When those naysayers get caught on reddit and pointed out suddenly they do an account wipe (seen this at least 5 times myself and seen others post about this).

Control the narrative

This is the most important one can do, if you control the narrative you control the way people think interact etc Since a week or so WSB has become very negative about something they were rallying behind for months, like on the flip of a dime.

New mods instated, old ones removed

And suddenly all the positive things about GME are suddenly gone. u/zjz has been removed out of the blue while being one of the better mods on there.

Right now they are controlling the narrative and spreading “fake news” I fucking hate Donny but I’m ashamed to admit that he might have been right about the entire fake news idea. Because look at the news media; Gme craziness they will crash the market GME craze over now silver Silver now Uranium They all went broke etc etc. EVERYTHING BACK TO NORMAL PLZ DONT LOOK

But if you look at multiple sources…. The shorts are not covered at all The Short ladder attacks (which we can just call ladder attacks at this point) keep going day in day out because we are not selling and they keep shorting it.

Take the facts that you can check yourself. Cross check over and over and over, you will see automatically which ones are correct (if a 100 say the outcome is 120 and 20 say they’re at 50 look at the credibility of those people giving the information).Do your DD, cross check with the DD of other members (this is most likely why WSB removed these)As this is the most powerful one, who is on board who does what why do they do it etc etc.

Normally the announcement that Cohen,fils-aime, Francis, Durkin AND Kruger would impact the stock in a very positive manor, yet the stock went down 20% that day

Compare your findings with the Median of when something like that happens normally the stock shoots up, you can find what’s actually happening and what is being pushed on you.

Like: people have already sold out their shares (while the data shows otherwise https://www.reddit.com/r/GME/comments/lejf39/good_news_apes_are_holding_numbers_are_out_apes/ )My conclusion is that there are a lot of things happening behind the scenes to keep us infighting and divided, as long as we all keep positive we can actually come out on top of this.

Make no mistake gentlemen we are at war. And half the war is a war of hearts and minds

Capture their minds and their hearts and souls will follow

#gme

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scifi-cheddar-cheese · 3 years

Text

Crystal’s Duel

“And that wraps up Elusiun history for today class, please pack up and head to your next class. And no running in the hall…”

Odessa ignored her teacher’s droning. She quickly packed up her books. Into her bag went her Elusiun history textbook, Magical studies notebook, Arithmetic binder, and physiology literature. She struggled to zip up her bag before throwing it on her back and running out the door towards her English class. She stopped only once, to not catch the attention of her least favorite peers, Billi and Crystal.

“Look at her. Bet she couldn’t even summon fire if her life depended on it!” Billi joked. Crystal laughed deeply, as if to say that Odessa was nothing.

“Hey, not everyone is born with the ability to summon lighting and animate a chair. Some of us have to learn it.” retorted Odessa. Unlike Billi and Crystal, Odessa wasn’t born with magic, she had to learn it. Odessa was fed up. Every day she would encounter the two, who would trip her and shame her until she could find an escape, usually in the form of the school bell. Odessa knew that they wanted her either dead or far away from her. She didn’t know their motivation, but decided to just avoid them as much as possible.

“If you’re so good, then try and beat me. I’ll see you on the dueling ground, after last class tomorrow” remarked Billi.

“Um..ye..yeah. Sure.” Odessa was caught off guard. She stammered, and immediately regretted what she had said. She didn’t want to duel! Odessa was terrified. Under school rules, duels were technically allowed, as long as no one was harmed. Billi was not one to play by the rules though, and Odessa had heard rumors that Billi had sent other students to the hospital with her duels. Odessa tried to push the issue out of her mind; she couldn’t think about it. She was just being hyperbolic, and paranoid. Nothing was going to happen to her, or at least that’s what she wanted to believe.

Odessa had heard rumors of Billi having sent others home or even to the hospital, and Odessa had a habit of fearing for the worst. She had no idea of what to do; she knew she couldn’t beat Billi through defense or simple attacks, so a different tactic would be necessary. Odessa spent all night at the town library, browsing through old spell books and dueling books for any clue on how to beat her enemies. She slowly and painfully combed through dozens of books; those on spell casting techniques, defense strategies, correct stances, as well as many many more. Odessa was in a frantic state. She had accepted a duel; if she ditched it, she would be in the best case expelled; one could not abandon a duel previously agreed too, and one could not make a false agreement, as that would be a lie. She might be officially dishonored, if it was found that her lie was so great. She didn’t know what to do, but right as she was about to accept her fate, in death or dishonor, she had a bright idea, and hatched a master plan.

Odessa sprinted to the library after class, to try and cram in as much knowledge as possible for the next day. She wanted to learn basic self-defense spells, in fear for the worst. The worst part was Crystal; she was under a subjugation spell cast by Billi. And even worse, Odessa really liked her. They had been great friends for years before Billi; before she was spelled, she was sweet, humble and kind. Since she had fallen in with Billi, she had turned for the worse. She became cold and unfeeling, just a pawn in Billi’s sick game.

Odessa finally left the library and trekked home at 4 in the morning, and hopped into bed to sleep for a few hours before her big day.

She was awoken not at 6:30, as her alarm had intended, but instead at 7:30 by her mom shaking her awake; she was about to miss the school bus.

“Odessa…Odessa! Get Up! You’re late for school! Come on!” Odessa’s mom was yelling.

“Ugh, what time is it? Big day today.” Odessa groaned. She never slept well, but this was something else.

“Where’s dad?” she asked, as he used to wake her up too. Odessa was, at that point, too tired to remember that her father hadn’t even looked at her since she came out. She groaned, and tried to roll back into bed. Her mom hadn’t waken her up for school in a while. She didn’t understand why she would have started today.

“It’s 7:30” With this, Odessa shot up. She was going to be really late. She got out of bed, and her mom ran out the door to attend to their own lateness. She rushed over to her book bag, grabbing her school books and her practice wand. Today, it would not be a practice wand. Today, it would fight.

Odessa didn’t have time to eat morning meal, or say goodbye to her pet lizard Addy. She ran out the door and managed to slip onto the bus just as it was pulling away. As per usual, Odessa sat alone on the school bus. This time, however, she didn’t mind; she was busy plotting out her exact moves. She had to know exactly what to cast and when; time is of the essence when your enemy is casting deadly spells at you.

Arriving at school, the same sight emerged as always; groups of friends huddled together, waiting until the last moment before the bell to run into class and take a seat. Odessa always ignored them; she would run through the hallways, weaving through the cliques and trying her best to avoid Billi and Crystal. She spent most of her free time at the library; she often read books about magic to expand her spell portfolio; she wasn’t born with the gift, but she was going to try damn well to earn it.

First period went as normal; Odessa didn’t understand why she should learn Latin, a dead language. In her mind, it was just a filler class, demanded by the sticklers and the elders who wanted to keep their antiquated traditions alive. If any spells were written in latin, she would learn that but to learn a whole language was useless. Second period was Arithmetic. That was okay for Odessa, she earned decent marks and was somewhat interested in the material. Third period was martial arts. Odessa liked martial arts; she was one of the best students on most days. On this day, though, Odessa was too distracted. She missed several instructions and lost her sparring match. After class, she was approached by her teacher.

“Odessa, are you alright? You seem kind of out of it today.” The teacher was concerned. Odessa seemed to just be staring off blankly into the distance. Shaking her head and finally looking at her teacher, she responded

“Oh yeah…I’m fine. I’m just a little stressed out. Stressed, that’s all.”

“Alright, if you say so. Hurry along to your next class, the bell is about to ring.” With that, Odessa ran off to her fourth class, physiology. Odessa had always found physiology fascinating; it was also a nice distraction from the events that were to happen shortly after.

She took a short break for lunch, where she sat in an empty classroom, analyzing her plan one more time. She couldn’t mess up; an error would result in pain, dishonor, or worse. Odessa questioned why she ever agreed to this, and if she could get away with not going. She eventually had to put her foot down and decide that she had to go; she had to show Billi that she couldn’t get away with this, she couldn’t keep hurting people who didn’t follow her every demand.

The rest of her classes seemed to just flow together like school soup; Odessa couldn’t pay enough attention to her teachers to make out what they were saying. She started to doubt herself; what if her dad was right? what if she was a lost cause? She didn’t think she was going to be able to carry out her plan. But if she did, she would change things for the much, much better.

Odessa walked out of class and to the back of the school with a grim look on her face and a swarm of bees in her stomach. She slowly made her way to the dueling ground out back, where Billi was practicing her casting and Crystal was on the sidelines, chewing bubble gum.

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.” said Billi. School had only ended 15 minutes ago, so she had been waiting that long or had skipped class (an activity she was not above doing).

“Billi, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Odessa stated nervously.

“I’ve been waiting for this for years. You parading around, thinking you can outshine us with your books and your learned magic. Only us true bornes can really have magic. You all are just fakes.” This infuriated Odessa. She had worked her entire life to earn her magic; she had devoted every waking moment to it. Odessa almost broke her plan, but managed to keep her composure.

“Can you guys start already? I want to see Odessa in pain! Come on!” yelled Crystal. She was on her 7th piece of bubble gum. This stung Odessa like a bee, a sharp pain right to her heart. She knew this wasn’t the real Crystal, even if it seemed like it was. Odessa walked over to her spot. All she had was her wand, her wit and her luck.

Odessa and Billi both raised their wands at each other. Crystal counted down

“3…2…1…..Begin!” Billi closed her eyes, and being muttering her spell. She opened her eyes to fire only to see Odessa’s wand pointed at Crystal, to her utter shock.

At that moment, time seemed to stop for Odessa. A green lightning bolt barreling right towards her, her wand pointed squarely at Crystal, and a phrase being muttered from her lips:

“Libertas et release” (Freedom and Release). At that moment, everything came back into focus for Odessa. She quickly jumped out of the way as Billi’s spell cascaded towards her, hitting the building behind her and burning the paint. Billi tried again and again, burning the points where she hit. On the other side of the dueling grounds, Crystal shook her head. She was confused. Why was she on the dueling ground? Why was she chewing bubble gum? She hated bubble gum! She noticed Billi, her bully, shooting dangerous magic at her friend, Odessa. Crystal jumped in.

“Hey asshole!” yelled Crystal.

“Thank god Crystal, you’re the most powerful witch I know. Help me!” Yelled Billi.

“Help you? Why? Why are you trying to hurt Odessa?” responded Crystal, confused. Billi had the realization that her subjugation spell had been broken, and her minion was now free. Odessa yelled another spell, for disarmament. Billi’s wand flew straight into Odessa’s hand. She examined it, staring closely at the artistry and quality of it.

“This ends now. You won’t do this to anyone again.” With that, Crystal quietly whispered as obscure latin phrase

“Vento flare ad caelum, ut captivus amittere potestatem a nativitate (the wind blow to the sky, as if to lose power from birth).” Billi fell to the ground. A blue smoke started to emerge from her figure, seeping out of her body and up to the sky.

“Her powers are gone. She’ll have to learn magic just like everyone else.”

Odessa woke up with her alarm the next day. She headed downstairs after packing her bag, Billi’s wand included. Her mom passed through to say hello before heading out to work. Odessa quickly finished her morning meal of beans and bread and hopped on the school bus. She sat alone again, but wasn’t upset like she was yesterday. She didn’t have anything to worry about; she had won.

When she arrived at school, Odessa was surprised to see that everyone was talking about the same thing; Billi. Billi had been shaming and dishonoring students for years, but she had finally been beaten. She lost, for once, and seemed to have lost for good. She hadn’t learned any of her powers, they were all from birth; she didn’t have any left in her. The halls were abuzz with the news that her powers were stolen, or destroyed; maybe even bottled up and kept in a jar.

Odessa saw Billi a few times throughout the day. She saw her trying to win over Crystal, which failed, trying to cheat on her English exam, which failed, and generally trying to maintain some dignity after having lost it all.

Odessa was entertained by this, but again distracted. She couldn’t pay attention in her classes, she was lucky to make out her English teacher’s discussing of literary works, or her physiology professor discussing the shape of the photoreceptors in orc eyes. She had a date; word of her duel victory over Billi spread fast, leading to a secret admirer. Odessa fantasized about who it would be all day, dreaming through her arithmetics and magic studies class, which led to a very embarrassing exchange with Professor Fireshard.

Odessa walked out of school smiling. She was meeting for coffee with her date 30 minutes after school ended at the town cafe. She got there 20 minutes early and took a seat, shaking with anticipation. Right on cue, her date walked in.

“May I sit?” asked Crystal.

#fantasy #short story #writing #shortstory #creative writing #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbt art #lesbian #lesbian art #all

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post-itpenny · 4 years

Text

The Regret

A sequel to The Challenge.

Just as ridiculous as the first time.

Dwight’s anxiety had skyrocketed to a level he never thought possible. Two trials after his run-in with The Legion and he had hardly slept, he couldn’t focus at all in trials, at the campfire he was always looking over his shoulder as if half expecting the masked teens to be right behind him.

Dwight adjusted his glasses as he made his way through the collection of tents and fragile structures that made up the survivors camp, coming to a small lean-to at the camp’s edge. Jake, like many of the vetran survivors, had plenty of time to gather the materials needed to make a more stable shelter. They never had to worry about rain but a warm place to sleep was still a luxury, Dwight had gone through enough nights sleeping by the fire without so much as a blanket to know this. He found Jake sitting outside the lean-to salvaging what was left of a beaten-up tool kit.

“I messed up.”

“I heard… Nea told everyone.”

Dwight sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, of course she told everyone.

“What am I going to do?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to clean a few spare gears he had picked up somewhere. Dwight was used to this, he and Jake were two of the few that had been here the longest and understood Jake liked to take his time in answering; just as cool and level headed as always. Dwight once questioned Claudette why people didn’t see Jake more as a leader. Her answer was short- “he’s not meant for that pressure, that’s you.”

Jake finished his work, snapping the toolbox close before looking up at Dwight. “You and I both know the Legion has the combined attention span of a walnut. Keep low and give it a few trials, I garuntee someone else will do something stupid enough to outdo you.”

Dwight relaxed a little, Jake really did have a point.

The very next trial and someone really did outdo Dwight in level of stupid.

David King was running from The Huntress, as she threw a hatchet Feng screamed “yeet!” from behind and the killer just snapped. Pivoting on the ball of her foot and charging at the survivor with a speed Feng never thought her capable of. David panicked, Feng was on her third hook and he had to do something. David dashed ahead of the Huntress just as she threw a hatchet at Feng Min-

And David caught it.

Perhaps it was his previous life as a rugby player, or the power of adrenaline…. or maybe just pure dump luck. But David caught the hatchet by it’s handle, the blade inches from his face.

For once The Huntress was silent, staring open-mouthed in shock. David was surprised as well, looking at his wide-eyed reflection in the polished blade.

Feng however recovered quickly, dashing off without a second glance. The Huntress shook her head and yanked her hatchet free of David’s hand, taking off after the other survivor. Feng Min was hooked a few minutes later, David however didn’t come to his senses until the gonging of a bell triggered the endgame collapse. He and Adam being the only two to make it out that round.

That evening David’s catch was the only thing they could talk about. Truly legendary and what would be regarded by some of the survivors as King’s finest moment. The next day David was a part of the trial against The Nurse, the strange spirit seeming to regard the survivor with… uncertainty? It was very hard to tell what the apparition was feeling considering she wore a bag over her head and all. After a few minutes she seemed to make a decision-

And mori’ed him on the spot.

None of her usual soft regret came afterwards but Steve, who had been hiding nearby, swore on his ranger med kit he heard The Nurse rasp what sounded eerily like “yeet” before teleporting off.

When Dwight heard the story it was through Nea cackling about how The Nurse yeets herself around the map much to an annoyed David’s chagrin who was still struggling to get his breath back. Claudette fussing over him saying the killer really did a number on his windpipe.

Dwight chewed his nails, this wasn’t right, and he had a bad feeling it would get worse.

Two trials later and Nea was sneaking around Lery’s, with Nancy and Adam already dead it was just her and Tapp stuck with three generators. It didn’t help Nea was for once without a flashlight

She had just started working on a generator when spine chill went off. With no heartbeat she could only assume the killer, whoever it was, was either just out of range or had concealed themselves. Nea snuck away into the shadows, rounding a corner and climbing into a nearby locker despite her better judgment.

Nea held her breath, maybe it was Michael? He normally didn’t check lockers and she could get lucky. Unless it was-

“Boo!” Ghost Face laughed as he yanked open the locker door. Nea screamed and backed away only for the killer to grab her shoulder and pull her out of the locker. There was a bright flash and Nea found herself blinking away spots as the killer held up the screen of his camera for them both to see.

It was a picture of The Ghost Face and a panicked and confused looking Nea, the killer giving her a set of bunny ears.

“Yup, that’s definitely going on the wall.” Ghost Face chuckled, “ok Punk Rock you have two seconds.”

Nea was still trying to regain her sight, “wh-what?”

“One second.”

The survivor bolted, crashing into a stray gurney as she did so.

Nea probably wouldn’t have said anything except several copies of the picture were found on the log benches around the campfire soon after. They all laughed until Tapp asked the question of how the pictures got there.

The implications put them all on edge after that.

Dwight had become a nervous wreck, chewing off what was left of his nails as he made his way to one of the largest tents in the camp.

Nancy and Zarina had become instant friends over their love of investagative journalism. Nancy had been quick to begin documenting everything she could the moment she and Steve had first stepped into The Fog. She enlisted Jane to take every survivor’s testimony while she used every trial she was in to explore the nooks and crannies of the different realms to learn what she could. When Zarrina arrived these efforts were doubled. The tent served as a home base where their findings were stored and catalogued. Dwight, having never ventured inside before, was very surprised to see a map of each trial ground on display and an even larger map of The Fog half finished on a table.

“These aren’t the normal maps,” he observed.

Zarina looked up from her writing with a grin, “correct!” Nancy had the idea to use a couple of the generator maps- along with a lot of observation- to make a detailed map of every trial. We found the totems, exit gates, and hatch don’t actually spawn at random! The Entity seems to like following patterns and will manifest these in a few choice locations.”

“No wonder you two find totems so fast!” Dwight gasped as he looked over the nearest map of Haddonfield in amazement at the detail. “So the larger map-”

“It’s a guessing game I guess,” Nancy chimed in. “We looked at how long it takes to enter a trial, what direction we were facing at the campfire vs. direction facing at the start of a trial, stuff like that. We could be wrong though… but we could also be right.”

Dwight looked at the maps in awe, then to the scraps of paper, stitched together notebooks, and folders that sat in stacks around the tent. It was all very impressive.

“Did you need something Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, focussing again. “Y-yeah you guys have been taking notes on the killers yeah? H-have you noticed if-”

“They have been acting off yes!” Zarina grinned, grabbing three folders and flipping them open.

Inside were drawings Jeff had done of The Nurse, Ghost Face, and Wraith along with several pages on each killer.

“So yesterday Ash and Kate got back from a match saying The Wraith just followed people around ringing his bell the whole time. He even camped Yui after hooking her and rang that stupid bell in her face until The Entity came for her. Weird right?”

“Yeah I gue-”

“Then Nurse hardly says anything yeah? I think the most anyone heard was Nea who said the killer spent a whole match whispering some name over and over. Andy- Andr… I don’t know, Nea didn’t quite catch it. But what IS important is that The Nurse saying “yeet.”

“Though it was Steve,” Nancy pointed out, “he’s kinda dum-”

“But he is our only witness and no one has said that word in Nurse’s match at least in front of her AND she understood what it meant.” Zarina pointed out. “So with Ghost Face and the picture I now have a running theory.”

“What’s your th-”

“My theory is that perhaps just as the survivors can interact with each other outside of trials so can the killer’s! The Huntress must have said what happened in the trial with David-”

“So The Nurse got revenge?” Dwight questioned. “Why would she do anything?”

Zarina frowned, “first of all it’s rude to cut people off like that Dwight. But yes it may be that. My theory is that the killers are having a game of their own. Why else would Wraith and Ghost Face act so off?”

Dwight felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, “so would The Legion-”

“Sure why not,” Zarina reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’re a bunch of teenagers. Hell it might even have been their idea for all we know.” Zarina paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Hey Dwight, didn’t you-”

Dwight passed out again.

#dead by daylight #dbd #I still don’t know what I’m doing folks

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nightfuryobsessed · 4 years

Text

The Nerezza

Prompt: inspired by @clanwarrior-tumbly‘s anons asking for a monstrous reader interacting with one of the adventurous egos.

Summary: When a past adventurer took a precious pearl the people heard roars from the creature in charge of protecting it. After a few years of roaring late at night, the creature decides to search for its treasure, destroying sections of the town until one man takes the treasure back and learns the real reason the creature searched for its treasure.

____________________

The young adventurer ran through the cave, panting as they stashed the giant pearl in their sachel, jumping over one of the traps they had seen while coming in. They flinched when they heard a loud roar, knowing that the creature was coming after them. They never actually saw the creature, but they knew that it was dangerous.

_____________

The adventurer had made it to their home base, proudly displaying their catch to a museum. After sundown, the town heard loud, mournful cries and roars, making everyone slightly uncomfortable. They couldn’t help but get teary-eyed as they listened to the cries, sadness, depression, and anger seeping into their being.

For many years, the people below the mountain pass cried and screamed at night, giving the town their own curse. This curse was what drew in the brown-eyed male in. He landed late at night, giving him the perfect opportunity to see the curse in person. He was surprised to hear the deep and mournful roars, making him feel just as upset. He watched the town, tears gathering in his eyes as his chest tightened. It felt like he had lost another partner, people he loved like brothers and sisters, only to separate at the last moment and lose them.

This adventure may be more than Illinois had paid for.

__________________

After a week of investigation, Illinois discovered the source of this curse. A large, rose-gold pearl a fellow adventurer had found.

The Indiana Jones inspired male took a tour to see the pearl, taking notes before hearing a loud, angry roar. He ran out of the exhibit before seeing a large figure flying out from the mountain, its large bat-like wings beating and carrying its large snake-like body. It had only two ‘arms’, both of which look like an eagle’s claws and talons. Its head was the strangest of all, an amalgamation of many different creatures, some Illinois had never even seen before.

The creature flew through the town, roaring and tearing through the houses, obviously searching for something.

It was at that moment, that the adventurer realized what the creature was looking for. He ran back inside, and while he never normally did this, he felt like it was an emergency. He broke the casing of the pearl’s container, grabbing it and ran to the mountain, ignoring the security guards who tried to catch him. They were nothing to some of the traps he had encountered.

________________

After traveling for hours, the sun was now completely hidden and the moon was starting to rise, gently illuminating the city and forests with a beautiful pale blue light. The adventurer smiled as he took everything in, humming before walking into a large cave he had heard the creature lived in.

Illinois walked slowly, watching as some of the traps went off ahead of him, while others were more about logic and movement. He passed those a bit slower than normal, wanting to double-check that his answers were correct before, finally, being let into a large presentation room.

The adventurer walked to the center before gently grabbing the pearl he had put in his bag, ready to place it when he heard the creature roar again, yelping as he fell to his knees, his pain and anguish making him unable to move.

The Nerezza landed in the room, its large head looking down at the male in front of them before tearing his satchel away from him, using its claw to tear into the soft material before using its other claw to grab the pearl.

At that moment all the pain stopped, the sadness, fear, and anger disappeared, letting the raven-haired male relax and breathe. He panted before looking up at the creature, tears in his eyes though he quickly wiped them away. He stood up as he watched the creature place the pearl in the center of the room on a pedestal, raising its wings as the moonlight fell on the large pearl, showing that it was more than just a precious gem.

“What on,” Illinois started before jumping when the pearl started cracking, pieces flying in all directions and three, miniature Nerezza’s crawled along the pedestal, their wings tiny and obviously weak, yet still very much adorable. As terrifying as their parent was.

The hatchlings chirped happily before jumping onto their guardian, cooing as the larger version gave a deep chirp.

“For bringing these three home, you shall receive a gift,” a booming voice purred, making the adventurer freeze.

“Simply think of your gift and you shall receive it.”

“B-but I-” “-Your choice has been made. Might I add, it’s an odd one,” the creature purred before raising its wings, the leathery material torn in several places after its night of searching. The creature raised its head as the light in the room suddenly got much brighter, and after a moment the light faded and the creature was gone.

In its place, was a young person, their eyes an unnatural rose-gold color. On their back, two large bat wings rested just above the floor, their arms had large scales and their fingers looked more like claws than hands. Their face was a bit odd, splotches of colors on their skin as well as the scales that covered their neck. They had patches of feathers on their elbows, on their shoulders, and on their head in the form of a crown. The babies looked fairly large now, curled around their neck and shoulders as they watched the adventurer.

“You’re a strange human. Most would stay in their homes while I search, you on the other hand. You were willing to bring these young back home to hatch. Few have willingly helped my kind, the main reason why I am the last of my kind,” they stated simply, watching as the adventurer slowly walked towards them. They knew he wouldn’t try anything, they had protection here, this man did not.

“You are odd. Not only did you willingly help the Nerezza, you wished for me to look as one of your kind. An odd request.”

“Hold on a second, I never asked you for that. I never even got to say anything. How did you know-uh think, that I wanted to talk to you as a human,” the adventurer asked as he not so subtly checked the humanoid over. He had to admit, they looked awesome.

“That’s the powers of the Nerezza, we can communicate telepathically, and read the minds of those we deem important. Humans rarely state their mind, it would be a lot easier if you did though.”

The adventurer was still before rubbing the back of his neck and blushed. The creature raised a brow before laughing softly, pulling a feather from their crown, gently handing it to the adventurer as their young tried playing with it.

“As thanks, and for memories. You are more than welcome to visit whenever you wish, if you’d like, you could even care for the little ones,” they say bowing their head a bit before turning away, looking over at him when he shouted at them.

“Wait, what’s your name? I’m Illinois,” he says holding his hand out, a bit nervous to feel their hand. It looked very sharp.

“My kind is the Nerezza, but my name is (y/n),” they say smiling softly as they gently grabbed his hand and gave it a light shake, careful not to cut him with their claws.

“(Y/n)? Has a nice ring to it~ I’ll be sure to come around again. Try not to let people take your egg.”

The Nerezza rolled their eyes before shifting, changing back to their large, terrifying form.

“And you adventurer, let no one learn of our home. You may not like what you find,” they purr as the lights faded. The room that Illinois had been in just a moment ago was now a large wall of stone, cold to the touch and impossible to see through the illusion. If you didn’t know what it was.

“I guess that’s goodbye,” he laughed, turning around as he looked at the large beautiful feather.

“I’ll return at another time. See you around (y/n).”

#ahwm Illinois #x reader #reader insert #long post #fan fic #mythical creatures #made up creature #my writing

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not-a-boy-3 · 3 years

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“And that wraps up Elusiun history for today class, please pack up and head to your next class. And no running in the hall…”

Odessa ignored her teacher’s droning. She quickly packed up her books. Into her bag went her Elusiun history textbook, Magical studies notebook, Arithmetic binder, and human physiology literature. She struggled to zip up her bag before throwing it on her back and running out the door towards her English class. She stopped only once, to menacingly stare at her least favorite peers, Billi and Crystal.

“Look at her. Bet she couldn’t even summon fire if her life depended on it!” Billi joked. Crystal laughed menacingly.

“Hey, not everyone is born with the ability to summon lighting and animate a chair. Some of us have to earn it.” retorted Odessa. Unlike Billi and Crystal, Odessa wasn’t born with magic, she had to learn it. Odessa was fed up. Every day she would encounter the two, who would trip her and shame her until she could find an escape, usually in the form of the school bell.

“If you’re so good, then try and beat me. I’ll see you on the dueling ground, after last class tomorrow” remarked Crystal.

“Um..ye..yeah. Sure.” she responded. Odessa was terrified. Under school ruled, duels were technically allowed, as long as no one was harmed in the process. Odessa knew that this wound’t happen; Crystal meant a proper duel. Odessa had never done a duel before, never even practiced; she barely knew any self-defense or attack spells at all. She scurried off towards her last class and tried to put the issue out of her mind. Unfortunately for her, said class was Magical studies with Professor Fireshard.

Odessa sprinted home after class, to try and cram in as much knowledge as possible for the next day. She was terrified, as much as she tried to hide it. The worst part was Crystal; she was under a subjection spell cast by Billi. And even worse, Odessa really liked her. Before she was spelled, she was sweet, humble and kind. Since she had fallen in with Billi, she turned for the worse. She became cold and unfeeling, just a pawn in Billi’s sick game.

Odessa had heard rumors of Billi having sent others home or even to the hospitals, and Odessa had a habit of fearing for the worst. She had no idea of what to do; she knew she couldn’t beat Billi through defense or simple attacks, so a different tactic would be necessary. Odessa spent all night at the town library, browsing through old spell books and dueling books for any clue on how to beat her enemies. She slowly and painfully combed through dozens of books; those on spell casting techniques, defense strategies, correct stances, as well as many many more. Odessa was in a frantic state. She had accepted a duel; if she ditched it, she would be in the best case expelled; the laws and rules surrounding duels were vast and ever changing. She might even be forced into rehab, for lying and ditching a duel. Right as she was about to accept her fate, in death or dishonor, she had a bright idea, and hatched a master plan.

Odessa finally trekked home at 4 in the morning, and hopped into bed to sleep for a few hours. She was awoken not at 6:30, as her alarm had intended, but instead at 7:30 by her mom shaking her awake; she was about to miss the school bus.

“Odessa…Odessa! Get Up! You’re late for school! Come on!” Odessa’s mom was yelling.

“Ugh, what time is it? Big day today.” Odessa groaned. She never slept well, but this was something else.

Arriving at school, the same sight emerged as always; groups of friends huddled together, waiting until the last moment before the bell to run into class and take a seat. Odessa always ignored them; she would run through the hallways, weaving through the cliques and trying her best to avoid Billi and Crystal. She spent most of her free time at the library; she often read books about magic to expand her spell arsenal; she wasn’t born with the gift, but she was going to try damn well to earn it.

First period went as normal; Odessa didn’t understand why she should learn Guerian, a dead language. In her mind, it was just a filler class, demanded by the sticklers and the elders who wanted to keep their antiquated traditions alive. Second period was Arithmetic. That was okay for Odessa, she earned decent marks and was somewhat interested in the material. Third period was martial arts. Odessa liked martial arts; she was one of the best students on most days. On this day, though, Odessa was too distracted. She missed several instructions and lost her sparring match. After class, she was approached by her teacher.

“Oh yeah…I’m fine. I’m just a little stressed out. Stressed, that’s all.”

“Alright, if you say so. Hurry along to your next class, the bell is about to ring.” With that, Odessa ran off to her fourth class, Human physiology. While, as an Elf, not a human herself, Odessa had always found human physiology fascinating; it was also a nice distraction from the events that were to happen shortly after.

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.” School had only ended 15 minutes ago, so she had been waiting that long or had skipped class (an activity she was not above doing).

“Billi, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Odessa and Billi both raised their wands at each other. Crystal counted down

“3…2…1…..Begin!” Billi closed her eyes, and being muttering her spell. She opened her eyes to fire only to see Odessa’s wand pointed at Crystal, to her utter shock.

At that moment, time seemed to stop for Odessa. A green lightning bolt barreling right towards her, her wand pointed squarely at Crystal, and a phrase being muttered from her lips:

“Libertas et release” (Freedom and Release). At that moment, everything came back into focus for Odessa. She quickly jumped out of the way as Billi’s spell cascaded towards her, hitting the building behind her and burning the paint. Billi tried again and again, burning the points where she hits. On the other side of the dueling grounds, Crystal shook her head. She was confused. Why was she on the dueling ground? Why was she chewing bubble gum? She hated bubble gum! She noticed Billi, her bully, shooting dangerous magic at her friend, Odessa. Crystal jumped in.

“Hey asshole!” yelled Crystal.

“Thank god Crystal. Help me!” Yelled Billi.

“Wow, this is nice! I think I’ll keep it.” Yelled Odessa towards Billi.

“Oh, one more thing: “potentia damnum (power loss)”. A blue essence seeped out from Billi, up into the sky. Billi’s natural power was draining out.

“Maybe learn to not mess with the wrong person.” Odessa turned and ran to Crystal. They hugged, and cried.

“I thought I’d lost you!” cried Odessa.

“I’m here now.” responded Crystal. They slowly came away from each other, but then hugged again.

“Hey, do you want to maybe get coffee sometime?” asked Odessa, with a laugh.

“How about tomorrow. For now, let’s get Billi home. They’ll need some support, losing their entire personality and all.” They both laughed. They picked up Billi, stammering and in shock.

“Tomorrow?” asked Crystal.

“7:30 sharp,”

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mgrgfan · 4 years

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Past of the future, future of the past...

Chapter 3: A hard day.

"Well, those three months were quite something," Anthony said, when the Space Shuttle finally stopped on the runway. "I mean, actual first contact situation, even if with humans!" "Falkis, shut it for now," Sarah mumbled. "We'll have to explain this all over again to our superiors, when we return to the Mossdeep." "Okay, whatever, miss Born-with-camera-in-hands." Several seconds after it, the hatch in the side of the vehicle opened, the astronauts were safely removed from their seats with Psychic of the service Alakazam and put into the wheelchairs on the ground. "Don't worry, guys'n'girls, it's just a precaution," sounded voice of professor Takao Cozmo, making Sarah and Samuel slightly cringe. Of course, this man was a genius, especially for someone, who just turned 20, but at times, he was just impossible to be around. "We know," all four astronauts, along with the rest of Shuttle's crew, replied in unison. Of course, they wondered, why this mission only took astronauts down and didn't bring fresh crew... ---- "Can you secure this thing now?" "Wait… yeah, I'm securing it." Captain Vasilyev hovered near the console, monitoring feeds from the helmet cameras of cosmonauts, along with their talks, and wondered, why exactly did it have to be yesterday for the station's backup power source, the nuclear fission reactor, to get stricken with some kind of space debris and get a total coolant leak. Of course, since the reactor wasn't activated for the entire duration of its staying in the station, there wasn't any imminent radiation hazard, but they still had to return it back to Zemlino Space Center for the inspection and repairs. Right now, Lozhkin, Migulya and Panasenko were removing the reactor and loading it into the opened payload bay of the Lenticular Return Vehicle. There was some sort of a strange irony - today, the cosmonauts from both space stations were returning back to Earth. "Comrade captain, the reactor was safely removed and is now secured in the payload bay of the LRV" sounded the proud voice of Migulya in the comm. "I think we're done here. Let us all pack up and go back home!" "As a commander of this station, I give this proposal my complete approval!" announced Vasilyev to everyone. "Since we are all packed up already, I propose to fulfill it as soon as possible. To EVA team - go to station's primary airlock on the "Drum" module. I know, the LRV's backup airlock seems very nice, but we need to leave the MMUs and suits here for the next crew." "Aye-aye, comrade captain!" reported the EVA team, firing up their MMUs and flying back to the first module of this great station. Since the airlock wasn't exactly spacious, they'll have to enter one by one - mostly because the MMUs were pretty huge. Of course, was it not for the advanced materials from Imperial Science Facility 9, which allowed creation of the normobaric EVA suits - the entire crew would've had to stay on the station for a few more hours. Thankfully, when the EVA team finally got back into station and re-dressed, everyone else was ready. "So, comrades, I want to congratulate you with the successful end of the 10th expedition to the Space Lab 2, which also served as a cornerstone for our relationship with… "Nationals", I think. So, anyway, we all served very well. Glory and long live to the Empire!" "Glory and long live to the Empire!" "Since the rest of our crew returned to Earth in pods already - thank the Emperor for launching that propellant tanker! - we can now return home at leisure pace. All hands - board the LRV and prepare for return." "Aye-aye, comrade captain!" ---- "Goodbye, Space Lab 2. We will miss you and try to return soon. Just wait for us," the pilot said, looking in the return vehicle’s main window. The space station, jewel in crown of the Empire’s space program, was left by its crew and switched to full-auto mode, waiting for the next bunch of people to take the residence in it for performing even more science operations and making even more discoveries. "Proceeding as normal, four hours until touchdown." "Acknowledged," replied the captain, recollecting the events of past three months - the craziest months in his live so far. Contacts with cosmonauts from other regions of the world after the event, which was later named "The Shift"; nearly inviting them onboard the Space Lab 2 one time and only not doing this because of medic's advice; having to constantly help in writing reports to linguists back on the ground; making sure, that the space station works properly, especially before the propellant tanker gave them some more freedom in maneuvering… those months were most definitely crazy. "Comrade captain, I have a small question - why aren't the replacement crew already there?" asked him Grigoriy, who served as a biologist and medic aboard the station. "I don't know. Zemlino told me, that there were some hiccups with their launch vehicle, and their LRV is an experimental one, with fuel cells instead of nuclear reactor... they've decided not to rush it. Station can wait, after all, but losing cosmonauts is not an option. They were launched a few hours ago and will dock to the station tomorrow." ---- "Hello there, darling," said man in plain clothes, entering the room. If not for the reaction of the Empress, not many would've thought, that this man was, in fact, the Emperor Ivan the Second himself. "How's your bad?" "Like ****," replied Empress Svetlana in tired voice. "Trying to make negotiations through these crude translators, when we are no longer the most advanced country on the planet…" "We still kinda are, in some branches." "In some, mind it. So, trying to negotiate with what's, apparently, called "Pokemon Nation", process all the data, prevent instabilities within the Empire and so on and so on… It's so tiring. And you?" "Not much better," said Ivan, starting to undress. "Since our main advantages are more advanced arcane science, nuclear physics and space technology…" "You mean, you want to make orbital weapon platform," finished his wife. "I don't approve this idea. We aren't on exactly good terms with the Nation now and making them even worse isn't going to take us anywhere." "Not quite, my dear, not quite. Do you remember the Project Tin Can?" "Yes, and what?" "Do you remember, what is it?" "I don't. Honestly, Vanya, with so much work, I can't keep track of all of your projects." "This project, my dear, is a nuclear pulse spaceship, whose wet mass measures 4000 tons. It uses small nuclear explosion devices, constructed to create a directed wave of superhot plasma upon detonation, for propulsion." "And?" "We've finished assembling the propulsion bus of this ship today. Pusher plate, shock absorbers, plasma deflection cone, gas gun for drive bombs, magazines and so on - this was quite a challenge! Now, we only need to construct the payload part…" "Wait, actual nuclear explosion launch?! Dear, let me check your temperature…" "No no no, don't be afraid! This thing will be boosted by the NUCLEUS superheavy chemical rocket and will only engage the bomb drive at high enough altitude!" "Still, using demolition devices for propulsion… I think it's pretty crazy." "Crazy or not, it should work. By the way, some time ago, Knyazev showed me a project of turning the "Red Explorer"..." "The what?" "The nuclear pulse ship - we've named it "Red Explorer", since it's designed to explore the Fourth Planet. So, he showed me project of turning the "Red Explorer" into warship, with retro-missiles for planetary bombardment, electromagnetic rail mass accelerators, point defence and so on…" "Retro-missiles?" "Okay, let me explain this for you. Retro-missile is a type of hypothetical space-to-surface weapon, which is launched against the orbital vector and uses its engines to decelerate to slower-than-orbital velocity and fall into gravity well of targeted planet/moon, later correcting direction of fall with smaller maneuvering engines to ensure, that it'll hit the intended target area." "And what would be the true purpose of this monster? Considering, that all-out war is the latest thing we want?" "I don't know. Knyazev is an already a strange one, always seeking to turn any project into the weapon…" ---- "So, why exactly the next expedition wasn't launched?" Donnager asked in not-quite-slightly angry voice. "I'm not supposed to tell it to you… but the reason for it is Rayquaza," half-whispered Cozmo "Rayquaza? Isn't it the legend of Draconids?" "I wish it was, but, as it recently turned out, it's a completely real Sky High Pokemon, and a very territorial one at that!" "So…" "Yes, the space stations will get destroyed any moment now. The road to space is now closed by the ruler of skies." "..." Samuel clenched his fists in anger. He hoped, that the astronauts from the other station have also returned home. ---- "... Nose gear touchdown!" the pilot of the LRV happily commented. "Deploying the drag chute…" The pretty big machine, measuring 12 meters in diameter and looking somewhat like the flying saucer, deployed small fabric cupola behind itself, along with moving all control surfaces into positions for aerobraking, in order to lower the current velocity and prevent rolling off the runway. Roughly twenty-five seconds later, the chute got detached and the machine soon ground to halt. "Welcome back!" sounded from comm. "Guys - hang in there for a few more…" "Zemlino, you're not clear, repeat, you're not clear!" said the pilot, trying to find the reason for the sudden cut-out in the words of flight control officer. "... Guys, you don't even know, how lucky you were," finally replied the officer in flat and shaky voice. "Right now, the Space Lab 2 was destroyed by the Pokemon of Legendary power, known by hoennians as "Rayquaza", along with LRV-03. Second space station was also destroyed. The 11th expedition to the Space Lab 2… is no more." "..." all cosmonauts froze. If not for this lucky early return, mostly forced by the need to return the reactor to Earth - they all would've been dead now. And their comrades weren't so lucky... ---- "Dear, what's with you?" asked her husband the Empress. The Emperor, indeed, did not look good - he was pale in face, shaking and still staring at the screen of his portable computer. "... Nothing too bad. Wait a second," said he, getting the portable telephone out of his case and calling someone. "Knyazev? I know you knew this, you bastard! Does not matter right now. Consult the medics, I guess, Psychics with ability to predict the future aren't abundant. Anyway, your altered version of the Project Tin Can has just got my total and complete approval. Consult the ISF 5 and 9 for required equipment. Yes. Does not matter, but make sure, that it'll be able to withstand hits with Hyper Beam without getting holes - at least not at the first hit." Empress thought, that, whatever has happened, if it was enough to instantly convince her husband to turn the exploration ship, about which he dreamed for a very long time (at least as long as he was together with her), into the machine of war - it must be really bad… and yes, she saw the notification on her own computer - the notification, that the Rayquaza has just destroyed the LRV with the new expedition, measuring 12 cosmonauts total, and the Space Lab 2 along with the space station of the Pokemon Nation. Thankfully, all nuclear-powered satellites executed their contingency protocols flawlessly and moved onto graveyard orbits before this Pokemon would be able to destroy them and spill the nuclear fuel from their reactors. "... Yes. No. Of course. Yes. Goodbye," Emperor ended his phone call and turned back to his wife. "Sorry, dear…" "I know already. You know… I approve of it too. It'll help me rally the people of Soris together and lower the level of internal instabilities, as well as allow our people up here to protect themselves from attacks of this monster. So, you say, that this ship needs lots of nuclear materials?" "Yes. At first, they were needed just for the drive bombs and reactor, but now, they'll also be needed for the weapons - shells for railguns, missiles and so on. We can remake some of our already-existing demolition devices into weapons, but that won't be enough." "I understand. I think I can tailor this campaign as a sort of posthumous reverence for our cosmonauts. It'll really help us in keeping the Empire stable." "Do it, if you want to do so. But we need to get this son-of-a-Red Spirit flying, lest the road to space be closed forever for us all." "... Wait, nearly forgot - what about the political effect? Because, you know, getting something like this in orbit would be even worse, than actual weapon platforms!" "I don't know. I'm sure you can deal with this, my dear." Emperor smiled gently after saying those words. Empress hated it, because she could never resist this smile. "Besides, once everything settles down, we can use this ship as it was originally intended - for exploring the Fourth Planet! The amounts of drive bombs and supplies should be sufficient for this and replacing the landers won't be a problem at all…" Notes: ISF - Imperial Science Facility. Worldbuilding mini-note #1: Red Spirit - mystical being in the sorisian mythology, not directly linked to any of Legendaries. It's a somewhat malevolent entity, which, however, patrons those, who fight to avenge their comrades. Some sorisian warriors pray to the Red Spirit before battle to help them in the quest for revenge and, if they fall - make sure that their comrades will avenge their deaths. Worldbuilding mini-note #2: Emperor Ivan Yevgeniyevich Bazarenko the Second is a very shitty ruler (hence why his wife rules the Soris Empire - he gave his throne to her as soon as he was able to), but is an awesome constructor of pretty much anything that flies. Because of that, he spends most of his time in the Imperial Aeronautics Institute, returning to the palace only on special occasions. Worldbuilding mini-note #3: The Project Tin Can is based on the real Project Orion. Worldbuilding mini-note #4: The Rayquaza's aggression and territorial tendencies are based on its depiction in the anime. The Shift may also have something to do with it. Author's note: those three months will, eventually, get expanded upon in the small series of drabbles. Also, the next chapter will have much more action.

#Ancient Soris Empire #mgrgfan writes a new fic #Shift Universe

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 5 years

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Bodyguard III: Avengers Assemble (Chapter 3) (B. Urie x Reader)

You stood cross-armed in the helicarrier lab, looking on with intense curiosity as Doctor Banner worked on the sceptre that Brendon and Steve had recovered from Loki.

“Anything?” you asked hopefully, taking one small step forward.

Bruce shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he leaned down to get a closer look at the alien object. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The electromagnetic wave readings are off the charts.”

“Hmph,” you chewed on your lip softly as you tentatively reached out for the weapon, your fingers hovering only millimetres above it.

There was a strange energy surrounding it – one that felt familiar – and it was almost as if it were daring you to explore it. But you knew better; it was still a dangerous alien object, after all, used to cause a ton of destruction – so you retracted your hand.

Blowing a raspberry, you treaded over to the desk and leaned back against it. “Well, at least we-“

Your eyes caught sight of someone entering the lab, striding purposefully toward you, and you sighed agitatedly.

“Save it,” you said firmly, already knowing where this was headed.

“You’re a crazy person,” Brendon noted, coming to a sharp halt right in front of you.

You feigned confusion, looking up. “By whose definition?”

“Mine,” he hissed, “Do you have any idea how badly that situation could’ve gone?”

Pushing yourself off of the desk, you matched Brendon’s stance and frowned slightly; Bruce tossed occasional weary glances at the two of you.

“The situation was going badly,” you corrected, then cocked an eyebrow, “then I showed up and fixed it. You’re welcome.”

Stepping around the agent, you started walking away from him. He gripped your arm to stop you, turning around so that you were both facing each other again.

“What if Loki had been down there?” he persisted, frowning much harder than you had, “We still don’t know what he wants, (Y/N), and-“

You ripped yourself from his grasp, standing your ground. “Clearly this hasn’t penetrated your thick skull yet, so lemme say it again – I. Can. Handle. Myself. Loki is not a threat to me.”

On the other side of the lab window, dozens of S.H.I.E.L.D police escorted a handcuffed Loki. You and Brendon simultaneously turned to look at him; as did Bruce, who stopped working on the Chitauri sceptre and raised his head.

As he passed, the god of mischief eyed you and Bruce, nodding and smiling as he walked. You felt a strange sensation spread over you, and you shook your head lightly in an effort to refocus yourself. Bruce rubbed his head, creasing his brow.

Brendon looked at you, clenched his jaw and with a small shake of his head, headed out of the lab.

Detention section, S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier.

Now free from his cuffs, Loki stood contained in a large glass cell held by hydraulic rigs. Fury walked up to the control panel of the cell.

“In case it’s unclear,” he called out, “you try to escape, you so much as scratch that glass…”

The Director pressed a button that opened up a hatch underneath the cell. Loki peered down as much as he could from inside the glass. Without seeing, the sounds of gusting wind itself would be enough to make a man tremble with worry. Not a god, though; Loki remained unbothered.

“…thirty thousand feet, straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works?!” Fury closed the hatch, pointing at Loki, “Ant,” then pointing at the button which would drop the trap, “Boot.”

Loki smirked, standing smug despite his circumstances. “It’s an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me.”

“Built for something a lot stronger than you,” Fury nodded.

“Oh, I’ve heard.” Loki looked into the camera.

In the briefing room, the rest of you watched over the monitor. Everyone was watching intently, but none more so than you and Bruce.

“The mindless beast, makes play he’s still a man,” Loki continued, looking to Fury, “How desperate are you, that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?”

Fury widened his eyes. “How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control.” The Director walked as he spoke, right up to the glass. “You talk about peace and you kill ‘cause it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

“Ooh,” Loki teased, squinting his eyes, “It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is.”

With a soft scoff and a smile, Fury turned and started to walk away. “Well, you let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something.”

He walked off, leaving Loki in the glass cell. The god looked back at the camera, smirking.

Briefing room.

Steve watched until the monitor went black. Thor, who didn’t even look, just listened, stood there, torn apart. The rest of you just stood in stunned silence. After a long moment…

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Bruce spoke sarcastically.

“Loki’s gonna drag this out,” Steve said, “So, Thor, what’s his play?”

Thor finally came to, speaking over his shoulder as he answered the captain. “He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

Genuinely stunned by the thought, Steve spoke again. “An army? From outer space?”

Putting two and two together, Bruce voiced his thoughts. “So he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

The name caught Thor’s attention. “Selvig?”

“He’s an astrophysicist,” Bruce elaborated.

“He’s a friend,” you explained Thor’s reaction to Bruce.

Natasha spoke next, setting herself down on an empty chair. “Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with two of ours,” she said solemnly.

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him,” Brendon spoke on his concerns, the most bothered by the god’s presence, “He’s not leading an army from here.”

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki,” Bruce shook his head, “That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him.”

Offended by the doctor’s words, Thor glared at him threateningly. “Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he’s my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha informed.

“He’s adopted.”

Thinking back to the issue at hand, Bruce posed a question. “Iridium. What did they need the Iridium for?”

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony answered as he walked in with Coulson; he turned to the agent, speaking a couple sentences in a hushed voice before turning his attention back to the rest of you, “Means the portal won’t collapse on itself, like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Approaching Thor, the genius lowered his gaze slightly and gently tapped the back of his hand against the god’s bulging arm. “No hard feeling, Point Break. You’ve got a mean swing.” Bringing the subject back to the Iridium, he continued explaining, “Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants.”

Tony looked to the S.H.I.E.L.D crew working on computers below and called out to them. “Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the top sails. That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn’t notice. But we did.”

Covering his eye, he looked around. “How does Fury do this?”

“He turns,” Maria answered.

“Sounds exhausting. The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source.” Tony looked around the monitors and placed a button-sized hacking implant under Fury’s station, without anyone noticing, “A high energy density, something to kick start the cube.”

Maria scoffed. “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.” Tony gave the slimmest of smirks. “The packet, Selvig’s notes, the Extraction Theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Brendon queried, his mind racing as he tried to think of possible options.

“He’s got to heat the cube to a hundred twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier,” Bruce explained.

“Unless,” Tony contradicted, “Selvig has figured out how to stabilise the quantum tunnelling effect.”

“Well, if he could do that, he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Tony looked absolutely thrilled as he held out both hands and gestured to Bruce. “Finally, someone who speaks English.”

Tony and Bruce shook hands. A glimmer in their eyes shone as the mutual respect for each other showed.

“It’s good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Bruce looked down. “Thanks.”

The Director walked in, then. “Doctor Banner is only here to track the cube,” he said to Tony, “I was hoping you might join him.”

“Let’s start with that stick of his,” Steve called out, “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a Hydra weapon.”

“I don’t know about that,” you breathed out, arching one brow, “But it is powered by the cube. I could feel it.”

Fury nodded. “And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn three of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Moneys?” Thor looked around, puzzled, “I do not understand.”

“I do!” Steve piped excitedly, “I understood that reference.”

Brendon and Tony rolled their eyes, while the captain looked proud of himself.

Averting his attention back to his new friend, Tony spoke to Bruce. “Shall we play, doctor?” he gestured in the direction of the lab.

As Bruce and Tony walked out, the Galaga player turned ever so discreetly, watching as the rest of your group dispersed, and went back to playing.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@arosebyname @avengertrash21 @tiffisnotnormal @darknessdancing @raversam @theieroenthusiast @the-ghost-of-hemingway @laerkers @peters-vlogs @hockeyswag-boll @username-number-01834 @untilyouburnallofthewitches @underscoredarcy @aminasmells @becausebands @converseskyline @vinyloider @attractiveugly @twentzyonepirates @tegan-eva @i-only-date-flower-boys @jishwatylrandtop @blueskiesbleakeyes @robinruns @hi-ho-and-hello @svintsandghosts @iamafishandigosplish @sunshineandapplepie @kealohilani-tepise @bookworm104 @sheridans-dynamos @justawriterinprogress @anotherwriterinprogress @sillylandcalzonespy

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junkyardlynx · 5 years

Text

Pt. 13

The presence made no attempt to disguise itself, nor it’s...gentle rankling of hostility. It trampled through the fallen leaves and branches of the woods, birds scattering in it’s wake. The our visitor was loud, obvious, and it seemed like they were none-too-pleased to be there. I briefly wondered what they could be so agitated about as I buried my head against Sarisa’s warm stomach.

“You really think you should keep your face right there?” She asked, even as she continued to play with my hair.

“I really doubt they’re coming to fight if they’re being so loud about it.”

I had almost pulled my head away from her when the flimsy plywood door flung open with such force that it actually agitated me, so I stubbornly remained. Why do people feel the need to slam doors? Can you just act like a person? It’s not that hard. It’s actually easier than slamming it, because you use less force.

“Your friend is struggling to maintain control of his own begotten flesh and the two of you remain locked in an embrace as the morning turns to afternoon. Why did I bother with this fool’s errand?”

The voice that addressed us was dripping with venom. Muffled slightly through a mask, it was feminine, with a touch of gruffness that coloured it’s fanciful speech. Sarisa tapped the back of my neck and I lazily pulled my head away from her stomach, every cell in my body still screaming for rest. I waved my hand dismissively as I went to turn my head. When I saw who it was, I smiled. This was rich, honestly.

“Hey, it’s you. How’s the jaw? I really thought you’d get cold feet when it came to hunting Jeal down again.”

I laughed in spite of myself at Sarisa’s comment, then shook my head. I could feel the visitor’s glare as a physical force.

“Sorry. I assume you’re here to disturb our recuperation for some actual reason? Given the overall lack of anything approaching stealth.”

“It should be obvious, given my opening statement. Did you not come to this dilapidated observatory platform in search of your friend Thomas? No wonder he trusted you so little.”

I had taken the situation easy at first, but the remark about Thomas and trust ignited something in my belly that I couldn’t ignore. I forced a laugh as I stood up, using the flat of my palm to crack my neck and jaw. It was meant both as a show of intimidation and a way to loosen myself up.

“I see. Well, you’re certainly right. We certainly were locked in an embrace, as you put it.”

Most of my mana was depleted and the air was thick with a sort of stillness. We’d burned up all the latent mana, commonly known as aether, in the area with our big stupid battle. Still, there was something that a lack of magic couldn’t take away from me.

The body I’d built to handle it all.

I shot forward, shirt open and trailing behind me. My right leg shot up, aimed at her head, but it was pushed away by her crossed arms. The mere act of being deflected caused my the wound on my side to scream in pain, the scabbing flesh twisting and pulling itself open to acquiesce my desire to move. I didn’t care.

“Fool! Why do you resort to violen-”

I dropped low, aiming a sweeping kick at her legs with my left that she barely manged to jump over.

I was angry. Ever since last night, when I lost myself against Amduisas, I couldn’t control it. It raged in me, burned in me, chilled me to the core. It felt like my anger wasn’t in my control, wasn’t even mine, but it used me. Like it was the anger of something far older and far colder. My body was aching to move, to fight, to kill. Something in my blood. There was something in my blood.

I don’t know what it was, honestly. Maybe everything about her infuriated me. I had pieced together what had happened, that she was the one that told Thomas everything. That got him wrapped up in this big, huge mess. For her to come in, break Thomas’ heart with an inconvenient truth, turn him against us and then talk about trust? Hypocritical. Unforgivable.

“Do you know what I just finished doing, you oni-wannabe?”

My voice was oddly cool as I twisted the motion of a sweeping kick into a rising one, left leg shooting up towards her mask. She pulled back skillfully, but not entirely quickly enough. The tip of my foot caught the bottom of her mask, pulling it up. Guiding myself into the air with the momentum of my kick, I returned to a standing position. I heaved a few breaths, my tattered and bloodstained rag of a shirt swaying lazily in the slight breeze coming through the open door. Sarisa made no move to stop me.

“I just slew a Duke of Hell. I just transmuted my own flesh to make up for a mistake I made in that fight. I think I deserve a little rest before cleaning up the rest of your FUCKING mess!”

The unmasked visitor regarded me stoically. No emotion or thought betrayed her stony countenance, but some personal war was being waged behind those dark eyes. Feeling unkind and not in any sort of mood to offer a chance at personal reflection, I flew forward with a straight right jab, bereft of technique. It struck the sheet metal beside her face, opening the laughably weak material up to the outside world.

“I think that about pays you back for last time. Doesn’t feel great to be attacked for no real reason, huh? You sword-wielding maniac.”

I pulled my hand back through the thin wall and turned around, taking a step towards Sarisa.

“...You are correct.”

I stopped. The validation wasn’t really validating at all, strangely. It deflated my righteous anger. She continued to speak, this time at length as I turned around.

“This mess is of my own making. I miscalculated. I, and my superiors, failed to properly assess the situation. At the time I engaged you, you seemed to be a threat we could not ignore. Your intentions were unclear and your training was harsh from what we had observed. Your foreign blood awakening in the Russian mountains at the mere age of thirteen was our major concern. We acted under this knowledge while failing to realize that the mere fact of your birth had already broken the Seal. For this, I apologize.”

Her words left me moderately baffled, but Sarisa spoke first. I took the moment to rein myself in, quashing that mounting fury in my bones.

“Wait, what’s this “blood awakening” thing? Jeal, what happened on that trip?”

I honestly didn’t know myself, so I shrugged.

“My sorcerer’s blood, I guess? I dunno. I guess I never told you about it, but I had to defend myself in the Urals and...that’s when I took my first life. Mage hunters like our friend here tend to be sensitive about that stuff.”

The visitor laughed, clear and ringing. She found something hilarious. It vexed me.

“Ah, you really are unaware. For someone so sharp, you sure can be dense when you wish it. Jeal, you are not entirely human and I am not a simple hunter of magi.”

She approached me slowly, drawing a blade from her hip. She held both hands up, her right hand clutching what looked to be a red letter opener. Two steps away from me, she motioned for me to stick out my arm. I rolled my eyes, but offered my right arm.

She nicked the vein with the red, red blade.

The blood that dribbled out froze as it came in contact with that peculiar knife.

“I am Fujiwara, onmyouji and descendant of Abe no Seimei. My selfsame clam hunts what you might call Japan-native demons, or fiends. You carry the blood of a particularly dangerous Yuki-onna from the Aomori province. It is clear you have no control over it, but the fact remains as you tremble with the desire to remove that which vexes you.”

“Guess my dad left out a few details about how he met my mom.”

My own voice was weak. My anger was gone, and confusion seemed to wash over me. I took a seat by Sarisa on the table, who seemed to be regarding me with a mix of similar confusion, worry, and slight wonder.

“Now that we’ve all had a chance to poke and prod each other, uh, maybe we should. We should talk about the elephant in the room. Not Satsuki, Jeal. It’s Thomas. I’m talking about Thomas.”

Sarisa broke the awkward silence as I pulled into myself, assessing what I knew. My mom was apparently some super-popular Japanese snow spirit? I thought she was just a mage like dad, which is why she lived so long. Didn’t really take into account any of the little details like the stories and folklore she shared, or the fact that she always complained about the heat. She was just my mom.

I sat there in a daze, legs swinging from the desk a little until Sarisa prodded me into the conversation. I felt strangely anxious, filled with restless and aimless desire.

“Jeal, Fuji says she has information on where Thomas is.”

“What? Oh, cool. Wait, what?”

“Thomas was moved from this location a scant few hours before your encounter with the Duke. It seems as though he was brought back into town. To the school, more accurately. There’s something you should know, though.”

Her words kinda made me slap myself in the face. What an obvious place to take him. I guess I didn’t expect it because hey, who’s gonna bring someone to the most obvious place ever after engineering a plan like this?

“Jeal, Fuji says the town is gone.”

“Rissa, you just said they brought him back there.”

“The buildings remain, and even some of the people. However, that place is not meant for the living now. I imagine this ritual was decades in the making.”

The intentionally obscure phrasing of her words was agitating me, like almost everything about her. However, Fujiwara seemed to be our ally for now, so I grit my teeth and asked what I already knew, somewhere in my breaking heart.

“What. Happened?”

“The town has been sacrificed, for lack of a better phrase. A boundary rift has been deployed, and demons walk the streets, hunting down those that remain. Your own house lies dormant and empty. I looked when escaping, and seems that your casting of Xyir managed to give your parents enough time to flee themselves. Selfish to their own ends, I imagine.”

My head pulsed terribly. A headache hatched from all the anger, beating in my temples, and I grit my teeth hard enough to crack them. I wanted to lash out in this anger, berate her for talking ill of my parents, ask her why she did nothing to save the town. I knew that my mom and dad escaped to live another day, escaped to fight another day. I knew that coming to us for help instead of attempting to do everything alone was the right choice on Fujiwara’s part, but I still choked on that fury. I felt the blood in my veins turn to slush, barely chugging through my arteries as I struggled to contain my emotions.

Turns out the kind of people who would bring their sacrificial lamb back to the most obvious place were the kind that would turn a town into a living hell. That was fine. I’d send them to a real kind of hell. Something in my body, in my bones, in my frantic blood ached for release. Something cold and ancient.

“Let’s go.”

#writing #my writing #the deeper wound #modern fantasy #magic

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pennywaltzy · 5 years

Text

Alternate Beginnings, Alternate Endings, Alternate Universes (3/5 - An “Adventures In Unexpected Places” Story)

we’re winding down on kid!Amy and kid!Rory for a bit, but they’ll come back in flashbacks in other fics, I swear! But here’s another old chapter of @fadeddreaming‘s crossover story…

Alternate Beginnings, Alternate Endings, Alternate Universes - After being sent to the worst school in the whole of England, Amy meets up with the man whose fault it is that she’s there, and things go vastly more differently than anyone expected.

Valentine’s Day went well. The girls at school had had a blow-out party while Amy and Rory went to New York City to sightsee with the Doctor. It wasn’t as though he was really chaperoning them, but was there with his sonic if they needed it. They went to a museum of art and then a concert of Amy’s favorite band. Rory didn’t set foot on the school grounds at all, and the next day she acted as though everything was normal and not that she’d had the best first date ever.

But her life went back to normal. Mels had found the person the Doctor suggested, and they were hatching up all sorts of schemes, and Amy watched on with amusement. It was clear that Mels really was a criminal mastermind, and while it was nice to see her excel Amy also hoped she knew when to get out before it was too late.

Winter ended and spring arrived, and soon it was time for Easter break. Rory’s parents had accepted that their son was in a long distance relationship with Amelia and invited her to stay with them, and Mels had gotten her parents to offer the same, but Aunt Sharon had finally decided that maybe she should see how her niece was, so she was going home for the break.

Home…it seemed strange to her, but now St. Trinian’s was home, and the only thing Leadworth had to offer was Rory. It would be very strange to be back for two weeks, but the Doctor had promised he would try and visit, make things a bit lively, and she knew she could trust him to do just that. As she set her duffel bag on the floor of her old room she looked around. Aunt Sharon had come in to dust, but everything had been left more or less as she had left it. It saddened her a bit, to think that her aunt missed her so little that she hadn’t spent time among her old things.

Their first dinner together was awkward. There was so much going on that Amy simply couldn’t tell her about, like the trips with the Doctor or Mels zany schemes or the times she actually got to see her boyfriend out of the blue. So she stuck to the simple stuff, and Aunt Sharon tried to fill in the gaps with what had been going on since she had left. It was with relief that Amy went outside to the old swing set that was still standing back there, and sat down on the swing.

It was times like today she wondered what had happened to her parents. She had bare memories of them, but nothing concrete. She remembered her mum was thin, and her dad was on the fat side. She remembered hazy smiles, but that was it. There were no pictures of them around the house, and when asked her Aunt Sharon always changed the subject, as if she didn’t want to talk about them, and didn’t want her talking about them, either. Would her parents have sent her to St. Trinian’s? Would they have just believed her about what she knew now was the truth, that he was real and that she could travel through time and space when she was with them? Or would it be exactly the same as it was now?

The familiar vworp-vworp-vworp of the TARDIS materializing got her attention, shaking off the melancholy thoughts. Sometimes, she swore, she just had to think and her Doctor would make himself known. The doors swung open and she jumped off the seat and ran in, throwing her arms around the surprised man’s chest. “It’s only been three weeks, Pond,” he replied, still giving her a hug.

“It’s like you just know when I need you,” she said, letting go.

“But haven’t you figured out yet that I do?” he said, grinning at her. She grinned back, and he clapped his hands together. “So! What do you want to do today?”

“I want to see my mum and dad,” she replied.

He frowned. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Amelia.”

“Why not? We can go in the past, right?” She walked over to the console. “Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Amelia,” he said quietly. “I have looked. God knows, I have looked. And I simply can’t find them. They’ve never existed.”

“Then how am I here?” she asked, confused.

“I don’t know, but I have a theory.” He looked at her, then moved her towards the chair near the console. She sat down and looked up at him. “The crack in your wall…I’ve seen others like it, all over the universe. I watched someone touch it, then disappear in a bright light, and then no one remembered him. There was no record of him. I think, perhaps, that your parents…the same thing may have happened to them.”

The crack. It still gave her nightmares, even now that it was sealed. And to think that it swallowed up her parents… “I don’t understand,” she said.

“I don’t either, not entirely, but I’m doing everything I can to figure it out. I promise, if I can bring your parents back I will.” He knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands in his, squeezing. She looked him full on in the face, knowing he was being earnest and truthful. But…she liked her life as it was now. How drastically would it all change if her parents were back? Would she still have Mels as a friend? Rory as a boyfriend? Would she still go to St. Trinian’s? Most of all, would she still have met the Doctor and had the wonderful, brilliant maddening adventures she’d had with them.

“I don’t want things to change,” she said, shaking her head.

“But if it would fix things, it’s what I should do,” he said.

She pulled her hands away and stood up. “No. I like this life. I have a home, I have friends, I feel like I belong somewhere. If you bring them back, what happens then? Do I lose all this? Does it never take place, and I’m different? I don’t want to be different.”

“But maybe it will be better,” he replied.

“And maybe it won’t!” she said. She could feel tears slipping down her cheeks. He didn’t care if it hurt her, he was going to do it anyway. He was her friend, and he was going to hurt her. “Maybe everything will be horrible! Maybe Mels will never come to Leaadworth and Rory won’t like me and I’ll never meet you and I’ll be boring and ordinary and I won’t…I won’t…” She couldn’t get anymore out.

He came up to her and wrapped his arms around her. She pounded at his chest slightly, but he didn’t let go. “I can’t imagine to know how you feel, Amelia,” he said quietly. “But if this is a mistake, if this is something I can fix, then I must fix it.”

She stopped fighting and instead cried, her face buried in his shirt until there were no more tears left. She pulled away, wiping her still moist eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at him closely, and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to do this. She had no say in it. She turned around so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Please don’t come back for me.”

“Amelia…” he said quietly.

“If it all changes, don’t come into my life, okay? Just leave me be.” She started walking to the door. Her life was going to change. Someday, she was going to wake up and it would be different. And she had the gut feeling only she would remember. And she would be looked at as the weird little girl in Leadworth who talked of things no one else could understand all over again.

“I’ve seen your future. Your correct future,” he called out as she had her hand on the handle. “Do you want to know what happens? I hadn’t planned on telling you. I perhaps would have, later, when you were older.”

She lowered her hand and turned around. “Tell me.”

“I show up again when you’re nineteen, not twelve. We save the world from Prisoner Zero, and then I disappear again for two years. I come back the night before you marry Rory, and you run away with me. Then you try and kiss me, and it’s a mess, so I go pick up Rory, and…he dies. But he comes back, and then you die, and then we seal you up and wait nearly two thousand years for you to wake up. But the universe stopped existing, and an exploding TARDIS is the only thing warming the Earth. But then I fix things, and disappear, but you bring me back. But you also bring back your parents, and you seem happy when I drop in on your and Rory’s wedding.”

She stumbles a bit at the weight of the information. That’s what’s supposed to happen to her? That’s her life? A life of waiting, to be replaced with a life with her parents? “And what happens to this life?” she asked.

“It’s like the others. You remember it in your head. Rory will probably remember it, too, with enough prompting,” he said as he walked towards her. “But the life with your parents…you seem better in that life. More fulfilled. Happier.”

“But I wouldn’t see you again until I was twenty-one,” she said. “And Rory is going to die? And I’m going to die?”

“But you come back,” he said. “Of course, that life may never happen. After all, it’s nine more years until my enemies set the trap. And I know about it now.”

“How did you find out about it?” she aasked.

“My friend River, I’ve mentioned her before?” She nodded. “She’s a time traveler, going in the wrong order. The first time I meet her is the last time she sees me. She got a hold of me not long after I met you in Camilla’s office. She has a book where she records her adventures, and said suddenly she was remembering different events then were in her book. We had a long talk and that’s when I got the gist of everything that changed.”

“I had no idea,” she said quietly.

“And I didn’t want to tell you until you were older, until I learned more. No one should know more of their own future than absolutely necessary, especially in your case where it’s so drastic of a change. Even my records have you with a different future then the one I just told you. About the only thing that remains the same is that you have Rory to help guide you through things.”

“Should you tell him?” she asked.

“Yes, perhaps I should,” he replied. “It wouldn’t be good for you to have to keep such a heavy burden to yourself, and he would understand.”

“What about Mels?”

He paused. “The less she knows, the better,” he said after a moment. “Her future is…complicated. And the less you know of it, the better. I already made a hash of things, and it may turn out differently in the long run anyway.”

“I don’t like keeping secrets.”

“Let’s just say she’s got one of her own and leave it at that, shall we?” He put a hand on each shoulder and looked at her intently. “Should we go find Rory?”

“Yeah, probably,” she said with a sigh, looking down.

“Amelia.” She looked back up. “Before I go fix this problem, if I can fix it at all, I will tell you. I will have you be as prepared as I can for the changes that are going to come, whatever they might be. I will not leave you to face it all alone.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go get Rory.”

“All right then. Off to go fetch Rory.” He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the console. A small but heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. At least she would have warning. At least she could prepare herself. Or at least try. But she knew at the core of her being that things would never be the same again.

#doctor who #st trinians #amy x rory #fanfic #fanfiction #amy pond #the doctor #eleventh doctor #multipart: alternate beginnings alternate endings alternate universes #my au: adventures in unexpected places

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years

Text

Fic: The Beginning of Wisdom - Chapter 25 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Leonard Snart (Len) & Leonard Snart (Leo), Len Snart/Mick Rory, Leo Snart/Mick Rory, Len Snart/Mick Rory/Leo Snart, Leo Snart/Ray Terrill, Len Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: In which Leonard Snart is twins.

(the life and times and loves of Len and Leo Snart)

—————————————————————————————————–

"We need to get the door pried open just enough to get the drill in," Lewis said. "Get the other side of it."

Len obeyed instinctively, then remembered he was Leo, not Len, and added, "Getting too old for this, are you?"

It wasn't exactly the most pithy comeback.

Luckily, Lewis had his hands too full with his side of the door to deliver a blow. "Shut up, boy," he snarled. "Or I'll put you in your place, here and now."

Len shut up, though to his surprise he found that he wasn't as afraid as he’d been expecting.

Had his dad always been so – small? So petty? So unnecessarily violent over nothing?

"Glad you're finally getting with the program," Lewis said after another minute. "Putting your back into the work instead of dragging your feet. It'd be a shame, after all this, to have to pull that brother of yours into this."

Len tensed. Was that Lewis' way of saying that he knew?

"Not that he would be any better," Lewis continued. "He was always a disappointment, wasn't he? Never quite getting it – always worried about keeping collateral damage down and trying to disguise it by claiming that it was to keep the cops off his back. But for all his pretended goodness, he still kills, doesn't he? Hypocrite."

Len didn't kill anymore.

Mostly.

"You'd have been better at it," Lewis said. "I'll wager you won't think twice about executing someone who represents a risk – a risk to you, or to your precious little family."

"I don't kill," Len lied. It wouldn't have been a lie, if he were Leo.

Sometimes he wished he was – but not at the cost of Leo being him.

Being Len was Len's burden to bear.

Though, that's not quite true. Being Len came with its own unique joys, too – the thieving, yes, but the supervillainy, for instance, that was all his. Leo'd never bothered to learn the intricacies of the cold gun, or appreciated the adrenaline rush of fighting the Flash. It might be his face on the action figure, but the personality broadcast alongside it was all Len. That, too, was Len's and Len's alone.

He wouldn't give those up to be Leo.

"You mean you don't need to kill," Lewis corrected. "You wouldn't, what with your brother there do to the dirty work for you. No, my boy, you're like me: if it needed to be done, you'd do it, no matter who it was. Now that'd be something I could actually be proud of – something your brother could never quite manage."

Len pressed his lips together, focusing on prying open the hatch just enough for Lewis to get the crowbar he'd smuggled in to slip into the crack.

He very carefully tried not to feel hurt. Leo wouldn't have been hurt by it, after all, and he was Leo right now.

He didn't succeed.

"Good," Lewis said once they get the door open and the drill into place. "Now get back out there and make sure no one noticed. The next part's going to be a bit noisy, so head off anyone who comes near."

Len didn't respond, just headed back out to the party space. A quick scan of the crowd showed him that Leo was headed his way, so he waited, alert, until the next "blackout" came and he could duck away behind a large potted plant, stepping back out again when Leo ducked in beside him.

They didn't have time to talk – nothing more than Leo reaching for his hand and giving it a quick squeeze – but Len felt both better and worse striding away from that room with Barry right behind him.

Better, because he was getting further away from Lewis.

Worse, because he was leaving Leo with him.

Barry slipped under Len's arm, reminding him that they were supposed to be playing a part, so Len made himself smile and laugh and wink roguishly at Henning, who grinned back, clearly pleased as punch by being pulled into the mischief as a co-conspirator.

Len had zero idea of what Leo actually said to Henning, but whatever it was, it worked like a charm: they were allowed into the bedroom without any issue.

"You okay?" Barry asked the second they were alone in the bedroom, cheerful smile disappearing off his face, replaced with concern.

Len considered the question. He hadn't gotten close enough to Lewis to swap the detonators, so Leo was still in danger, and his belly still ached with the curdled remains of hopes that should have died long ago but hadn't.

"No," he said. "Let's get this done and I will be." He hoped. "We've got to make absolutely sure that we don't let Lewis succeed in this, not even a little, or he'll just try again."

And next time, maybe they wouldn't get lucky with the tip-off from Marie, or Ray's amazing admin skills, or Mick's ability to ground Len enough to come up with the world's shittiest impromptu plan.

"We'll beat him," Barry said confidently. "We're sending a thief to outwit a thief – and you're a much better thief."

Len appreciated the thought and Barry's faith in him, but at the moment, he needed more than faith. He needed to prove that he was better, since Lewis was going in with a drill and a time advantage, and the door from the bedroom to the safe room had a high-tech, advanced-mechanics bioprint lock on it.

Len had it open in under two minutes.

Nowhere near his best time, but he was under a lot of emotional pressure right now, so he would forgive himself for it.

He glanced out into the bare hallway that led to the big safe room at the end of the hall. "Scarlet, you got this?"

"I've got this," Barry confirmed. "Cisco's device isn't picking up any lead this far in – looks like the comms are blocked, this deep, but the device works fine."

But still, he hesitated.

"I'll be fine," Len said, perfectly aware of the reason for Barry's hesitation. "Go."

Barry went.

Len waited, making sure that the bedroom door was mostly shut so that no one would see him there.

It wasn't long before the door across the hallway began to open – Lewis taking for-fucking-ever with the drill, but still – but eventually it opened, and out came Lewis, shortly followed by Leo.

Leo had the cold gun, which he'd somehow smuggled in to the party, in his hand, presumably by Lewis' instruction.

He was holding it wrong.

Subtly wrong, but wrong.

Damnit, Len was going to have to try to pull another switch, only without the benefit of Ray's distractions or Leo's help. He'd been hoping to just sneak along behind them, but he couldn't risk Leo icing his own fingers off, so a switch it was.

At least this way he'd be able to get Leo out of this mess.

He waited until Lewis was striding down the hallway, his eyes fixed on his prize, to slip out, grab the cold gun from a surprised but willing Leo, and shove Leo into the door from the bedroom, pushing it fully shut behind him.

"What was that?" Lewis asked, turning back to look.

"There's another door here," Len said, pretending to examine it.

"It's the bedroom," Lewis said dismissively. "No one will be there in the middle of a party. Get a move on."

Len obeyed, coming up right to Lewis' side.

Close enough to make one last foray into Lewis’ pocket.

He couldn't help the way his shoulders relaxed when the switch was made – the real detonator in Len's pocket, the fake in Lewis' – but he tensed them back up again quickly.

Not quickly enough, though. Lewis noticed.

Luckily, he was too busy cracking the (mediocre) lock on the safe room door to comment, but Len knew that he'd seen.

Hopefully, Barry had had enough time to complete his work.

After all, while the ultimate goal of today's events was to rescue Leo and eliminate the threat of the detonator, Len had set a secondary goal: to convince Lewis that it wasn't worth doing jobs in Central City anymore.

For that, however, Lewis couldn't just be repelled or knocked off-course.

The job itself needed to be destroyed.

And that, Len thought to himself as they stepped into the bare white walls of the safe room, which appeared to be absolutely empty, was why he'd arranged to steal everything in the safe first.

"What the hell...?" Lewis said, slack-jawed, looking around at the nothing around them.

Of course, Len hadn't actually stolen everything – the room had previously contained everything from paintings to heavy sculptures to bizarre objets d'art, all of which would have been a gigantic pain to move.

No, he'd just sent the Fastest Man Alive (or, well, one of them) ahead to hide all of it.

Barry had succeeded beyond even Len's expectations: there must have been building materials in the safe room already, because there was now a flimsy but convincing drywall creating a totally "bare" room, behind which the real treasures undoubtedly resided.

But Lewis didn't know that.

"There's nothing here!" Lewis exclaimed, his fingers tightening around the crowbar he'd already pulled out in anticipation of prying open treasures. "Nothing at all!"

"Henning must've taken 'em elsewhere," Len said. "Or the intel was bad –"

Len was anticipating getting the crowbar slammed into his belly for that comment, making himself the target of Lewis' frustration, and that was a good thing, because that was exactly what he got. He staggered back, the breath knocked out of him, but hopeful that Lewis had gotten the point: that jobs in Central were cursed, and he should go away and leave them all alone.

Len wasn't expecting the second strike to come down on his shoulders, knocking him forward onto the ground. Nor was he expecting the third, or the fourth, that followed.

"Stop!" he cried out, curling up and casing his hands up in a desperate attempt to protect his head. Lewis had beaten him before, of course, and severely, too, but that usually waited until they were somewhere safe – and never with a crowbar. Len's ribs had already cracked under its weight, and he didn't much like the state of one of his shoulders. If Lewis continued – "You could kill me!"

Didn't Lewis care? Len was his son!

"You did this," Lewis said, his voice ugly even as he brought the crowbar down again, this time striking a glancing, but ringing, blow against the side of Len's face, cracking his jaw and making him bite his lips open, blood falling from his mouth. "I should've known you'd figure out the plan – because that's what you did, isn't it, Leonard?"

"What?" Len choked.

"Leonard," Lewis repeated. "Leonard, not Lionel – you little bastards switched on me, didn't you?"

How –?

"You were never as good at playing each other as you thought," Lewis sneered. "Or maybe it's just you that can't act: I saw you relax all of a sudden, right when we were about to get in. You took the detonator, didn't you? But Lionel couldn't have done that." He brought down the crowbar again. "You just couldn't resist it, though, could you, swapping yourself out one last fucking time to rob me of my rightful –"

"Leave him alone," Leo snarled, stepping into the room behind the two of them.

Leo knew that the script, insofar as Mick had passed it along to Leo, hadn't called for a reveal now – or ever, for that matter. Leo was supposed to be out of danger by now, achieving the main objective, and the purpose of the rest of the plan was to convince Lewis that the job was a bust and that someone was onto him, that he should leave Central City and go away to ply his trade, however badly, elsewhere.

Somewhere far away from them.

A typical Len plan for dealing with Lewis, really.

Leo was of a different opinion.

He'd thought that he had hated Lewis for a long time, hated him for what he'd done to Len more than anything else, hated him also for what he'd done to Lisa and to Leo himself, too, but now he knew: that wasn't hatred.

What he felt now, filling his heart and consuming his head: that was hatred.

He hated Lewis.

As a child, he'd just wanted him to go away forever; now, however, that wasn't good enough.

He was going to kill Lewis himself.

He'd even made sure that Barry grabbed just the right weapon for him to use to do it on his way out – Barry had wanted to stay to help, but the plan called for him to extract everyone else from Henning's house and bring the police to encourage Lewis to panic further, and with the comms blocked, he had to go himself.

Leo was supposed to just keep watch as Lewis left, but Lewis wasn't leaving. He was hurting Len.

No. He was killing Len.

Leo would never have been able to stand by and let him do that, even if he hadn't already planned to murder the man himself.

Barry hadn't known about that part of Leo's plan, of course. He'd brought that stupid jewel-encrusted – but still sharp – sword to Leo because Leo had told him it was Lewis' highest priority and that, if necessary, he'd trade the sword to Lewis for Len's life.

What Leo didn't tell Barry is that he had other plans for that sword.

Lewis turned to look at him, crowbar still in his hand; at his feet, bleeding and bruised, Len craned his head to look at him, too.

"Well, look at you," he said, baring his teeth. "Little Lionel, coming out of hiding at last."

"My name is Leonard," Leo said. "Not Lionel."

He took a step forward, then another.

Lewis went for his gun, but Len – reading Lewis' actions the way only a terrified child could – reacted first, scrabbling up to grab it out of his pocket and flinging it aside.

Lewis kicked him in the face.

"Leave him alone!" Leo shouted, and rushed forward.

Lewis still had the crowbar. He had a choice: he could try to fend off Leo, or he could strike Len again.

He chose the latter.

Len screamed as the crowbar came down on his leg with a sickening crunch.

Leo saw red.

Next thing he knew, Lewis was backed up against the wall, and Leo was hold the sword at his throat.

"Well, then. Look at you," Lewis said. "All grown up at last."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Leo said flatly.

"I always knew that one of my kids would turn out right," Lewis said, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Someone I could really count on. Not someone weak, like your brother, or constantly hiding behind other people, like your sister – but you're not weak, are you? You made a decision to kill and you plan to follow through on it. I can respect that."

"Stop talking," Leo said. "Don't you understand that I'm going to kill you?"

"You certainly mean to," Lewis agreed. "I can tell – the same way I could tell the way your brother flinched every time he pulled the trigger. But you? You're not flinching. You're not letting stupid sentimentality get in your way. You're finally stepping out of the shadows they've got you trapped in and into the limelight where you belong. You would do it, too – but only if you didn't get a better offer."

He smiled.

"You know," he said, "I could be proud of a son like you."

Leo ground his teeth together. He'd wanted to hear that for years – and Len for even longer, his childish dreams having not died quite as quickly as Leo's had. But this wasn't for Len.

"You should be proud of all of us," he spat out. Why was he still talking? He had the sword at Lewis' throat. He knew Lewis was just trying to manipulate him, trying to buy time, trying to trick him into letting him go. He knew that. He should just press the sword in, draw it across Lewis’ throat, do what he set out to do – finish it, and him, and free them of Lewis’ oppression forever. Instead, he was just talking. What was wrong with him? Just kill him already! "But you never were."

"Of course I wasn't," Lewis said, clicking his tongue as if this was a casual conversation, as if he were entitled to that sort of paternal disapproval. "It's hard to be proud of someone who disappoints you time and time again, you know. I tried my best, you know – I tried to protect you from the world I knew was out there, the people who would take advantage of any sentimentality, of any weakness. That's why I did what I did. That's why I tried to teach you all of those lessons. I should have known that leaving you to develop on your own would be the best way. But how was I to know that my best wasn't good enough? I’m just a man. No matter what I did, none of them would learn – none but you, my boy. Because you’re different than they are. You’re better than they are."

Leo stared at him.

"You're the only one who's worth it," Lewis said, meeting his gaze. "Any of it: pride, respect, the lot. You're the only one who will understand – and I'm the only one who will understand you. That's why you're going to step back: because we're blood, you and I. We're like each other."

Oh.

That was why he was hesitating.

Not because of Lewis' bullshit.

But because -

"No," Leo said. "We're really not."

He took a step back, keeping the sword in place. Lewis' piggish eyes narrowed, following him.

"You may have helped make me who I am, however inadvertently," Leo said. "But I made myself, me and Len, we're the ones responsible for the man I am today – not you. Never you. I don't give a flying fuck if you were doing your best, or if you made mistakes, or whatever your excuse of the day is, because even if that was your best, your best wasn't good enough. Your best was fucking horrific, and I will never forgive you for any of it." He paused. "But you're right about one thing."

"What?" Lewis asked.

"I'm not going to kill you," Leo said.

"You –" Lewis started.

"Oh, not because of anything you said," Leo said. "But because you're wrong. I'm not like you said I am at all - guess I still am too sentimental, underneath all of my logic. I'm not going to not kill you because I got a better offer: I'm going to not kill you because I'm not a killer, and I'm not going to become one for you, because fuck you. You've already had too much say over my life."

He stepped back again, and this time he lowered the sword. "Hear those sirens?" he asked sweetly. "They're waiting for you."

Lewis' face twisted in disgust. "I should have known," he sneered. "Every single one of you, a disgrace to the family name."

"The name's ours," Leo said. "We're the ones who'll make it famous. You'll just be a footnote in our history books, and you'll die knowing of your own irrelevance. Now get the hell out of here."

He stepped back again, and Lewis stepped forward. "Fine," he said, shaking his head and turning away to walk towards the exit. "Have it your way. There's clearly nothing here for me anyway – just another disappointme –"

He choked.

No, that wasn't quite accurate.

He choked, because there was now a blast of ice straight through where his heart had been a second ago.

Leo spun around.

Len had propped himself up against the wall, his face bloody, his body still curled in on itself in defense, his hands still clutching the cold gun –

His eyes vacant and hurt.

Leo went to him at once, pulling his brother into his arms, forcing Len's face into his neck. Len didn't need to see their father die, even if he'd caused it.

"Why did you do that?" Leo asked quietly, making sure there was no judgment in his voice. "The police were outside: we could have just scared him away, like you planned to. You didn't have to. You didn't – you love him."

"Yes," Len said, his eyes pressed tightly shut against Leo's neck. "Yes, I do. But he wouldn't have given up. He'd never have given up. He thought we were his, us and Lisa, he thought we belonged to him. He couldn't let us go. And next time it would have been worse – and it would never have been enough."

"Len –"

"You were right," Len continued, his voice tight and filled with tears he'd never shed. That he couldn't shed, anymore, thanks to Lewis. "You were always right, before, and you were right now, too. He should have respected us for who we were, as people in our own right rather than tools. He should have been proud of us – he should have loved us, us and Lisa. But he didn't, and he never will. No matter what we do, no matter how good we are, no matter how well we do what he tells us, no matter how well we learn his stupid lessons – it'll never be enough. It had to end. And you might not be a killer, but I am."

"You're really not," Leo said gently. "You took every chance you could to stop – you will stop, now. You don't need to do it anymore."

Len nodded mutely.

"And just so you know," Leo said, raising his voice so as to make sure that neither of them can hear whatever it was that Lewis was mumbling, to make absolutely sure that Lewis' last words were overlooked and forgotten and heard by no one. It seemed appropriate, that the man that imposed so much terror on their childhoods should die leaving no impact on them at all, or, at least, as little as possible. "Just so you know: you beat him at his own game. You were the better thief, using every skill he ever taught you and spitting it back in his face. If he was a real dad, he would have been proud of you."

"What, for killing him?"

"For surpassing him," Leo said firmly. "And as for killing him – you didn't kill him the way he wanted you to. You didn't kill him out of cold, unfeeling logic. You killed him out of love for me and Lisa."

"Still killing," Len mumbled.

"How about we give it to Barry to judge?" Leo asked, already planning on having a Talk with Barry to ensure his answer was the right one. "He's the one who made you promise not to kill, right? But even he agreed that there should be reasonable exceptions to that rule. He's a hero. If he says this was reasonable, will you at least consider forgiving yourself?"

"I'll consider it," Len allowed.

"Good. Now let's go home."

Len sighed and nodded, allowing Leo to guide him to his feet and to the doorway, his eyes opening only to focus intently on the exit ahead of him.

"Get Mick," Leo told Barry as soon as he appeared. Seeing the expression on their faces, Barry obeyed with particular alacrity.

#dccoldwave #coldflash #coldray #leonard snart #barry allen #lewis snart #leo snart #len snart #my fic #beginning of wisdom

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