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regular-gnome · 3 days

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Absolutely /adore/ your art and overall take on the Demon Realm world + it's history and the Archivists. Especially coming from someone who adores speculative biology and trying to find logic/science in magic (I'm not sure how to word it so it makes sense - basically almost everything you are doing here)

Curious if you have any ideas on how the titans managed to inhabit the planet, because Papa Titan's hand managed to reach the atmosphere just from lying down. There's no way that planet was big enough for a bunch of titans to walk around comfortably.

Idk much about planetary stuff, but is there some way the planet may have changed? Maybe the Archivists did something?

Sorry this ask got kinda long, hope you have a lovely day doing little gnome things :}

glad you like them!:D

So, one of the gnome things is overanalyzing things and avoiding doing math, but here we are, you actually made me read my biophysics notes from 4 years ago. There are a few things to really focus on and think about, but I gotta preface this by saying I am very much not an expert on speculative biology xD I just have the internet and some books I am basing my theories on

Titans:

First the titans themselves. A while ago, I made an approximation of how large the Boiling Isles titan is and got that it would be around 27 km in height post-mortem. Buuut if the titan was this height during its life is another question because it would run into some biophysics issues

Issues like the atmospheric pressure. At ground level, it is 101.3 kPa, but at 27 km, it falls is 1.6 hPa (titan bless wolframalpha for counting this as exp funtions are the death of me). That is 63 times higher pressure on their legs than on their head! Blood circulation would be shot to the moon. The blood is liquid that in general transports gasses so travelling fron upper body parts to lower ones where there is diffrent dissoving of oxygen would end up in gas bubbles, which are NOT GREAT. Additionally, their ability to stand up or lie down quickly would be pretty much non-existant as that would be super fast change of pressure and more bubbles. But okay, lets say they are like some kind of abyss fishes and keep constant internal pressure.. that would still mean their hearts would need to be either massive or they would have multiple pumping mechanisms to handle their size (maybe like the single-chamber hearts in fish??) And the thing is we saw their heart, it was big but not THAT big so unless it was just one of many, maybe the last beating heart there might be diffrent explanation. And Im not gonna even go into how temperature changes every 100m around 0,6C, lets say their fur makes them warm and cozy and blue blood avoids freezing problems like some arctic critters

bringing those graphs up again cause they show the altitude change nicely

All of this to say the titans during life were probably smaller. They would still have been massive, but maybe not three times the size of mt Everest massive. So next thing to consider is their magic. Their powers are closely tied to life, healing and creation and so, the demons on the Boiling Isles are said to have originated from it and their evolution waas likely sped up a lot thanks to it. Next we saw size-changing spells affecting King in the carnival episode, so it's not a stretch to believe that all titans could be affected by this kind of spells, with the strength depending on the particular titan's magic. So anyway as the titan was activly dying, its magic could have desperately attempted to save it by rapidly generating more cells to repair its failing systems, ending up in expansion of all tissues and their overall size. (Maybe thats why the vains were so big and empty in the mines, you cant create more energy so maybe the magic going with simmilar concept expanded everything around but not made more of blood?) However, despite these efforts, the magic would ultimately fail to save them. When it reached a critical point, maybe after using up most of its magical energy, the process would stop or change focus. There are some fun grusome possiblities on how that might have went down but this is already pretty long

So in short, I think the titans during life were big but only got island sized after death, otherwise theyd have some wild biological mechanisms battling physics and them becomming bigger would explain where did most of the blood go after death. Not to mention how much food they would need

Planet:

Next the size of the planet. While we don't have many clues to determine whether it's bigger or smaller than Earth, one clue is Luz's lack of reaction to changing gravity after passing through the door. If the planet were larger (or denser I know), she would feel change in g-force, so like the feeling of being on a lift going up in case of bigger planet or down in case of smaller. If the diffrence was significant she would develop issues with circulatory system and fatigue. But thats not the case and I do not have the energy to calculate min change xD

So let's say the planet is Earth-sized. This is still a lot. We don't know if there are any continents on the planet or their sizes, but even if there were same like earth, the scale is immense. If the Boiling Isles were the size of New York (based on titan's height) or even larger, say the size of Hawaii, compared to the world map, that's tiny. If Earh is 510 100 000 km², while NYC covers 1213,3 km² to cover the same area, we'd need 420423 titans lied up neatly next to each other. And thats if they are isles sized their whole life. There can also be landmasses where they can lay on, oceans deep enough to cover bodies, they can be stacked.... I don't think the planet necessarily needs to be much larger to accommodate creatures of this size

TOH as a show:

One thing to remember while analyzing shots from the show is that we we will run into contradictions because it's a show, one that is not focused on speculative biology. While most elements are well-constructed, some details may show inconsistencies. For example, determining the direction of north on a titan becomes challenging when one shot shows the sun setting in one direction and later another. Finding the titan's height poses difficulties when one shot shows their arm reaching the atmosphere while another barely shows them reaching it while standing. But its not due to carelessness, its more about serving purpose of the shot, conveying the atmosphere. They both show the titans are giant, the view from above is beautiful and if they were more focused on keeping them some arbitrery size it might have taken away from it

And Im pretty sure that I'm wrong around a lot of aspects here, how it wasnt supposed to be interpreted like that or its more convoluted than I realize. Thats just my take on this. World we live in can seem small as we can only see a tiny part of it but Earth is so amazingly vast. It's larger than we can comprehend, and yet, it's nothing compared to the vastness of the universe. So, yeah, some of my thoughts on titans and the demon realms planet xD peace

#died during writitng this #i spend 6h on this i dont know why its already light outside #toh #the owl house #owl house #toh archivists #toh titans #toh papa titan #toh analysis #ask

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victorluvsalice · 5 months

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-->And then, after Alice was long done with the harvest and Smiler done with all the other chores, Victor FINALLY wrapped up all his tending, meaning – at 11:30 AM in-game – we could go to the damn store! Yay! I sent Alice around to the side to finish up her mural while Victor cleaned up the “out-of-stock” signs, then, once everything was ready, Smiler officially opened the place up!

Which – took a bit, because this lot DOES have lag problems. Like, some really nasty lag problems. I don’t know why, other than maybe it just has too much stuff on it. *sigh* But the store DID open, eventually, and the customers started coming in. Smiler of course took point on the sales floor, chatting with the various NPCs who walked in the door (and admiring their fashion choices -- seriously, look at the bright yellow eye shadow on that one lady) and working their sales magic. Alice concentrated on finishing off her mural, then joined Smiler in interacting with the customers (with some reluctance, as you can see by her face -- she did get along pretty well with Ash from High School Years, though); Victor, meanwhile, focused on making a new flower arrangement (magicking it up to better quality once he was done to make sure he could scent it with bluebells to keep it timeless), then went outside to enjoy some fresh air and a Delicioso hamburger. Nice, easy start to the day, right?

-->Well -- sort of. Because right around the time Victor had his hamburger, things started picking up in the store. At first, it was pretty manageable, with Smiler and Alice running around making sales as more and more customers started coming in and perusing their wares and Victor tried to get in a quick toilet break before doing his part (emphasis on tried, as he insisted on cleaning up his plate first)...

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #yay Alice finished her mural #I wasn't sure how I felt about it when I first saw it in game #but looking at it now it does look pretty cool #good work Alice #and yeah as you can see #things started out slow in the store but ramped up quick #everybody is keen to visit the newest store on the block #including my very first Marty McFly Sim XD #hi Marty hope you enjoyed your shopping experience #I didn't but then again I was the one trying to coordinate these idiots to ring up customers against the lag #a problem that will be expanded on in the next post #ooof #queued

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars

This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":

https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/

Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.

But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.

The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.

So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.

Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.

I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.

So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.

I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.

I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:

https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james

Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:

https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language

But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.

The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."

Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.

Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."

Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit

LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.

Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.

What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.

We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.

Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.

Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.

As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."

Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #chatbots #plausible sentence generators #robot lawyers #robolawyers #ai #ml #machine learning #artificial intelligence #stochastic parrots #bullshit #bullshit generators #the bullshit wars #llms #large language models #writing #Ben Levinstein

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domain-expand-me · 4 months

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I've been going bonkers over Megumi x DILF!Reader because I know that boy has some serious daddy issues, having the reader being completely oblivious and doing things that definitely get the boy hot and nervous is MY SHIT.

I would love to see you expand on your writing about DILF/MILF reader with Megumi a bit more

Imagine

Megumi Fushiguro with a DILF!reader

Aged up characters, reader is in theirs 40s, cuz when i say dilf i mean it.

Imagine being the stereotypical dilf. Body broad and covered in a layer of fat, laying on top of strong muscles that comes from many years of physical labor. After moving into the house near the sorcerer campus, maybe after you got divorced, you somehow end up attracting the different sorcerers in the area.

But most of all, Megumi sticks around the most. You don’t truly notice at first, too busy digging around under the hood of whatever junker car you spend your time on, or banging around in your garage or shed like the most stereotypical dilf. But you start seeing him more and more, and at some point, you just start telling him to hand you different tools or help you out with your yard.

The first time you pat him on the back and praise him for helping, he goes bright red and immediately feels how hard he gets. Being oblivious and just thinking hes sticking around to be nice, you just ruffle his hair and move on, unaware of the way Megumi feels like his knees were about to buckle.

The other members from the campus notice pretty quickly where Megumi runs off to each day. Well, maybe not Yuji, but the others figure it out quicker than Megumi wants. Him returning with oil stains and wearing one of your ancient band t-shirts doesn’t help his case though.

Imagine Megumi realizing he has a huge daddy kink because of you. You jokingly say something like “who’s your daddy” after doing some kind of difficult task, and Megumi almost drops the toolbox he’s holding, blood rushing to both his heads, and he has to use the toolbox to cover the throbbing bulge in his pants.

Imagine Megumi coming to you for “dating advice”, since he wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to just make a move on you. Instead, he gets your dating history, and all the moves you pulled to get your ex. When he learns you are also into men, he almost has a heart attack. Maybe you’ve been drinking, having also offered Megumi some, since who are you to stop, and as you a slightly tipsy, you end up describing the best way to go down on someone in bed, and how to make a partner stay just from rocking their world on the regular.

Megumi ends up laying in bed later that night, teary eyed and huffing the shirt you let him borrow that day, his other hand tugging at his aching hard shaft, his entire body shaking and jolting from overstimulation as he made himself come over and over just thinking about you.

Imagine Megumi buying his first personal toy because of you. One day when you are laying by your pool, a pool you built yourself with Megumi’s help, naked as you assume you are alone, and you are too old to feel ashamed of your body. He gets a nice view of your cock, and even though its soft, he stumbles over his feet to hurry back to campus to take care of his very aching problem.

He spends a couple of lust fueled hours finding the perfect shape and size, getting a toy that has your skin tone. The next morning what one might call late post-orgasm clarity hits him. But when Megumi gets the package, he still squirrels it away, ashamed to use it. That is, until you just wind the poor boy up too much, walking around shirtless and sweaty, baseball cap on your head and shorts from your college days.

Imagine Megumi fingers deep in himself as he tries his damnest to suck down the entire length of the toy, tears gathering in his eyes as his gag reflex struggles against the silicone being forced down his throat.

Imagine Megumi clutching the sweaty shirt you had been wearing that day to his nose as he bounces on the toy, his own hard cock bouncing with his movements as he whines and whimpers, licking and sucking at the shirt that tastes and smells just like your sweaty manly musk.

Imagine how lightheaded he gets when he comes, having to choke down the noises he makes so as to not let everyone on campus know what he’s doing. Afterwards Megumi flops down on the bed, his entire frame shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants into the sheets. His shaft gives another twitch when he takes another inhale of your shirt, the spikey haired sorcerer pushing himself up again, sinking down on the toy once more even as his insides throb from sensitivity.

Megumi would be too nervous and flushed around you to make a move on his own, at least when you are sober. But if you happen to be a little more than tipsy one day, sitting on your couch, trying to find something worth to watch on the tv, he might find the bravery and balls to crawl into your lap. If you ask about it the next day, he can just act like it was something your mind made up, right? So for now, he could indulge himself, grinding against you like a pup in heat, panting into your neck as your strong large hands grope at his hips and ass, your deep voice rumbling praise in his ear.

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daycourtofficial · 5 months

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Hello. If you dont mind i have a request for azriel where maybe reader has just given birth and has lately been feeling very insecure about her body and azriel comforts her...with lots of fluff

A New Warmth

Sorry about how long this took anon, but I hope the wait was worth it!

You watch the baby nestled in the crook of your arms, mirroring her deep breaths to keep yourself calm. She was so soft, so sweet, and whenever she reached for you, it made your heart melt. She was everything you and Azriel had hoped for - healthy, chubby, and sweet as can be. She even had the cutest little wings that twitched in her sleep.

The problem with having an Illyrian baby is you develop an Illyrian’s appetite while pregnant with them, along with the other stretching and tearing your body has gone through to accommodate her.

She was two weeks old at this point, and you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Your body created this - a perfect mirror of you and your mate. But you couldn’t help the negative thoughts fluttering through your mind as your hand rested on your stomach, knowing the fresh stretch marks that lay underneath. You gained a good deal of weight during the pregnancy, your labor only removing about a dozen of those pounds.

As if sensing your spiraling thoughts, your mate walks in the door of your shared bedroom, his eyes alight with love and adoration at seeing his two girls.

“My loves,” he greets the both of you, setting the mugs of tea he had brought down, lifting the blanket to lat next to you. His presence under the blanket providing a new layer of warmth- not just physical, but the warmth of the three of you being together.

You lean your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm behind you, slowly to not disturb the baby in your arms. “Will I ever get my body back?” You mumble into his shoulder. His fingers start caressing your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into it.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you will.” You want to snap your head up, tell him that’s no way to console someone who had just pushed out his baby out of a tiny opening in their body when he uses his hand to hold your head in place.

“We will never be the same. We cannot go back.” He looks down at the baby in your arms, “maybe one day you’ll have more autonomy again - you won’t have a baby latched to your breast every other hour.”

His hand snakes down to rest on top of the hand you’re using to cradle the baby. “But she’ll always be a part of you.” The baby starts stirring, moving her tiny hands, and he reaches out a finger, which she quickly wraps her delicate fingers around. You both watch the scarred flesh in the pristine grasp of your innocent babe, no idea of an outside world that could cause harm. All she knows is the sanctuary of your home.

You look at Azriel with tears in your eyes, feeling incredibly silly over being upset at stretch marks. But as if he can read your mind, he tells you, “you have constantly given me what I thought I’d never have. You loved me, you gave me a true home, you gave me a mate, and now?” He laughs, flexing his finger in her grasp. “You’ve expanded our family. You gorgeous thing, you.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “Your love knows no bounds, and I am eternally grateful for you.”

You start crying, post partem hormones taking control of you. “It’s so shallow,” you laugh as a tear falls, “I just was so upset over how weird my body feels. The pregnancy glow is gone so now I just feel heavy and weird in my own skin.”

He uses the hand not gripped by your baby to grab your chin and tilt it towards him. “I couldn’t look at my hands for a long time, after they had done it.”

Azriel always has a way of leaving you speechless, telling you another facet of himself he never had before.

“I could barely look at them before I met you. But you called them beautiful, this part of me I hated so much.” He looks into your eyes, the bond between you two humming in joy and adoration. “It’s okay if you don’t like how you look right now, I will find you beautiful enough for the both of us.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff

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cursedvida · 8 days

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your last ask reminds me of this post: https://www.tumblr.com/mortalityplays/751567991841423360?source=share

people are refusing to recognize that Mae is one of the main characters and that she's going through her own arc that will likely carry on and expand in the next film. It's so exhausting listening to ppl complain about how she's a bad person as if doing something bad makes her a bad character.

Yes, but it's because you've made a very good point: they don't perceive her as a co-lesd of the saga. They see her more as a companion to Noa (similar to Will, Malcolm, or Nova). For them, Mae isn't a character on her own but an extension of Noa, so they always read her as a complement. Add to that the fact that she's a woman, we have all the ingredients for her not to be seen as an autonomous character but rather someone whose actions are marked by how they should or shouldn't affect the protagonist.

The post you shared is a 100% yes to everything because basically the standards of fiction and its narrative resources are rooted in white heteronormative vision. Every creative piece has a perspective, and ours is heavily influenced by this because ultimately it's what has always predominated in the media. But the good thing is that nowadays we have plenty of information and means to be critical of it and understand where the root of the problem lies.

Returning to the topic of Mae (sorry for the rant, but I can't help it with this), it's precisely as you say: Mae is going to have her own story, her own path, and her own character arc in which she'll likely experience many conflicts and moral doubts. This first movie has only laid the groundwork for that because now it's not just about the rebellious apes; it's about apes and humans in conflict, and she's the visible face of an essential part of the equation.

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #planet of the apes #kotpota mae #kotpota #mae #freya allan

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easy-there-leftovers · 8 months

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I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her.

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before.

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human.

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere.

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s.

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response.

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought.

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more.

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove.

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records.

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion.

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise.

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks.

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#aware!astarion #though I guess not so aware--#lol

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theskit · 1 year

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Stickers AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 7

《Prev Next》

Sitting on the hotel roof as he tried to calm down from the high-speed flight away from Batman, Danny looked over his ill-gotten gains.

Ooh, candy! Why did Batman have candy? Did he have a problem with his blood sugar? Shrugging, Danny popped a sucker into his mouth. What else did he get?

Fiddling with one piece of a thin stack of black metal, he managed to click a concealed switch that caused the sides to expand from an unobtrusive oval to razor-sharp, wing shaped edges. Ow!

Shaking the sting from his left hand, Danny inspected the thin, shallow slice on his finger before holding it to the edge of his hoodie to keep his blood off things until he got back to the room for a band-aid.

Getting the now obviously a batarang to collapse back down, Danny beamed. Score! He'd gotten four of the things, one each for himself, Ellie, Sam, and Tucker. He didn't think Jazz would mind not getting a vigilante throwing weapon as a souvenir. She usually used the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick or the Boo-Staff, having been mostly banned from long-range weaponry on account of her inheriting Dad's aim...

Shuddering, Danny banished the memories accompanied by that thought in favor of the last item. Looking it over, it seemed like an airpod? Did he grab one half of Batman's headpho-... Oh, Ancients that was a communicator! Could they track it? Who was he kidding, of *course* they could track it!

Freaking out juuuust a little, Danny stuffed everything else into his pockets, grabbed the comm unit, and high tailed it, phasing through walls and floors in his hurry to get back to the room.

Once there he dove for his luggage, pulling out the Thermos he'd brought along just in case, and dumped the ear piece in before locking it down.

There. Heaving a sigh of relief, Danny slumped down against the side of the bed he'd claimed when they first checked in. The ecto-shielding on the Thermos should block any incoming or outgoing signals until he could get Tucker to look at it and make sure no one could trace the comm back to him.

Wincing against the light as the bedside lamp on the other side of the room flared to life, he saw Jazz squinting at him fuzzily, one hand on the Anti-Creep Stick propped up on wall beside the bed. "Danny? Izzat you?"

"Yeah, Jazz, it's just me. I just got back, sorry for waking you. I'm gunna wash up and head to bed. You can go back to sleep." Danny felt bad that he'd woken Jazz up after she'd had a long day helping set up the Fenton convention booth and gently riding herd on their parents' over enthusiastic responses to the other 'ghost hunters'.

"Okay Danny, glad you're back safe. Night," Jazz mumbled as she turned out the light and laid back down. Danny smiled at her softly before turning to gather his things. It had been a good night, if more eventful than he had planned when he first went out exploring.

Batman had traced the comm unit's signal to one of the larger, more popular hotels in the area before the strangely fluctuating signal had cut out entirely.

Inspecting the roof, he caught sight of a dim glow. Kneeling down, he collected what looked to be a few drops of fresh blood with a swab kit. It appeared that whoever had taken his gear had rested here for a bit before leaving again, possibly to check what all they had taken, then finding and disabling the comm unit. He hoped they hadn't injured themselves too badly, probably on the batarangs, if it was indeed their blood he'd found.

The dimly glowing sticker, still on its backing paper with a drop of blood on the corner, caught half under an air conditioning unit, pointed to it being the same person. Picking it up, Batman inspected it for a moment before dropping it into a separate evidence bag. He'd put both samples through analysis back at the cave.

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter

#dpxdc #theskit writes #Stickers AU #danny makes his own stickers :3 #and now danny is running around gotham like a gremlin #with a pocket full of homemade stickers #whatever will he do with them? 😈

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nataliasquote · 2 months

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This Is Me Trying | n romanoff

Summary: Inspired by ‘this is me trying’ by Taylor Swift

Warnings: angst, break up, slight toxic relationship, alcoholism, glass smashing, no happy ending sorry

wc: 2.3k

note: happy TTPD countdown day :) thought it would be a good idea to post a Taylor fic before all I think and talk about for the next few days is TTPD 🤍

-⧗-

Some relationships are simply not meant to be. No matter how hard you force it, or swear that it will get better, the foundations were cracked from the beginning and no amount of work will ever truly fix them.

And as Natasha stood in the pouring rain, the wilting bouquet of flowers hanging limply by her side as you shut the door in her face, her resolve threatened to crumple like the cellophane in her palm.

She was convinced you were the love of her life. Days with you used to feel breathless and electric, a stark contrast to the strained atmosphere between the two of you now.

Natasha had tried everything. She gave her notice in at work, not just retreating to desk work but quitting all together, just for you. It was what you wanted, you’d made that clear. Your nerves couldn’t handle Natasha in that field for a day longer.

But that wasn’t enough; nothing ever would be. No matter what Natasha did, you were never going to work out. She quit her life for you, and somehow the rift expanded at twice the rate. Constant arguments and fights inevitably lead to an explosion of words that led to you storming out, the slam of the door rattling the windows in their frames.

You walked out that day and took a piece of her heart with you, leaving a broken redhead on her knees in the echoing apartment. Natasha began her free fall, not having work to consume every moment she had anymore.

How did Shield’s top agent drop so far behind that she was passed out on the couch mid afternoon, a bottle of vodka just out of reach of her fingers as her arm hung off the couch. Her hair was greasy, scraped back into a messy ponytail and her skin was blotchy as a result of her neglect.

When she wasn’t asleep, she watched her phone with her knees pulled up to her chest. It sat on the other side of the couch, the screen blank, and she almost bore holes into the glass from how hard she stared. Just willing a message to come through. A reply to the fifteen texts she’d sent you. One for every day you’d been gone, pouring what was left of her heart into an apology and promising to do better.

She thought she was the problem, her clouded judgment not allowing her to see that you weren’t all that innocent either. She never blamed you for being paranoid, working as a nurse in the busiest ER in the state had your nerves frayed anyway. Nevermind always being scared that you’d see your girlfriend on one of those gurneys, her name being added to a list of patients you’d lost under your care.

Fear made you cold and you took it out on Natasha. Did she deserve it? Absolutely not, but your words were out before you could stop them. The hot headedness between you both always clashed and on the nights you couldn’t solve it with heavy make up sex, at least one of you would be yelling whilst the other sat with their head in their hands.

Natasha didn’t know what she was doing when it came to love, you were her first and by the looks of it, her last. She was too hard on herself, and it hurt you to listen to the way she berated herself after a failed mission. But whenever her mind was set, there was no changing it. Harsh or soft, your words did nothing to change her destructive mindset and it was beginning to get to you. You wanted your home to be light, a place filled with love that you could return to after a horrible day. But instead it was dependent on how Natasha felt and whether you were going to be walking on eggshells that night or not.

But there was only so much creeping around you could do before your patience snapped. You didn’t mean to shout but it all happened so fast and suddenly there was glass everywhere and the last thing you knew you had grabbed your scarf and fled. Hands shaking on the wheel as you pulled up to a red light, pressing decline as Natasha’s name flashed up on your phone for the third time.

Twenty missed calls. Fifteen texts. Natasha was close to smashing her phone against the wall too. Her nose ran as she sat there, chin on her arm. Ears barely even registering the sound of the doorknob twisting or keys rattling in the door. She just wanted that message to appear, or even a phone call.

What she’d do to hear your voice again.

Heavy but tentative footsteps sounded down the hall before they stopped in the doorway of the living room. Natasha only looked up when a cough caught her attention, and the brunette in the doorway was certainly not who she was expecting to see.

“Y/n has gone to stay with her brother,” the woman began, her arms folded, unimpressed with the state of her friend. “Bucky told me everything that happened. Oh, and you look like shit.”

“Thanks, ‘Ria,” Natasha grumbled sarcastically, her voice low and monotonous. Maria walked over and grabbed her arm, surprisingly met with very little resistance as she pulled the redhead up off the couch and shoved her in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna clean up in here, you need to shower, and then we’ll talk.” Natasha went to protest but abruptly shut her mouth at Maria’s raised brow. “I’m moving past the fact that you haven’t called in about three months, so go, sort yourself out Nat. This isn’t like you.”

As the redhead trudged off to the bathroom, Maria collected up the empty bottles, shaking her head at the amount she found. How the same woman who had set records in Shield’s history and had the most prolific skill set she knew, had now drank herself into such a mess, Maria had no idea. Bucky hadn’t said much on your state but she doubted you were thriving either.

Once the living room was straightened out and all the bottles hidden away, Natasha emerged from the bathroom looking slightly better. She relayed the details from two weeks ago and Maria’s face fell at how Natasha barely kept it together. Her chapped lips trembled and her nails itched at the scars across her hands as she spoke, eyes looking everywhere but her friend.

“I still love her and it’s fucking terrifying,” Natasha cried, sinking her head into her hands as she hunched over her knees. “I’m not cut out for this love stuff, but I want it with her and now I’ve lost her. She won’t call, text, nothing, I’ve never felt so lost. I don’t even know what to do!”

“Nat, just breathe for a second or you’re gonna have a panic attack,” Maria interjected, leaning forward in her chair slightly ready to assist if needed. But Natasha just slumped back against the misshapen cushion and sighed heavily, zoning out on a bottle of whisky beside the tv.

“I’m trying, Maria. I’m really trying but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. What am I doing wrong?”

Maria shook her head and moved onto the end of Natasha’s couch. “You’re not doing anything wrong Nat, I promise. Ok, so the drinking was a shitty move, but at least you’re trying.” Her words seemingly fell on deaf ears but Natasha had heard her. And they resonated hard.

At least I’m trying… right?

“When was the last time you left the house?”

“I can’t,” Natasha croaked, her teeth chewing on her lip again. “I can’t go anywhere because all I see is her. It’s really fucking hard when every tiny thing is a reminder of her and what I’ve lost. Even the films, for god’s sake! I can’t even numb myself with tv because she’s somehow always there!” She gestured at the blank tv screen and came face to face with her disheveled reflection staring back from the black screen. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday, I tried-“

“It’s okay, birthdays happen every year. You’ll be there for the next one.” She gave Natasha a warm smile, and for the first time in weeks, Natasha felt her lips curl up slightly too. “I’m going to order takeout, and then you and I are going to watch a Bond film, no protesting. Give her time.” Maria spotted the phone on the table in front of her. “I’m also confiscating this or you’ll drive yourself insane.”

Natasha was too tired to protest, so she nodded blindly and let Maria drag her around. She didn’t admit it, but letting her mind drift away from Y/n for an evening was refreshing. Maybe she could do this. If she tried hard enough, life could be good again. She could work through it, toughen it out like she used to do.

After all, this was her trying…

But the same couldn’t be said for Natasha a week later. She’d woken up late and anxious, after a nightmare involving Y/n had shaken her to the core. She waited out the day with sweating palms but as the clock struck seven she couldn’t wait any longer. The weather was horrendous and heavy raindrops ricocheted off her windscreen as she drove to the grocery store, her eyes hazy in the streetlights.

Grabbing the first bouquet of flowers she saw, Natasha walked down the alcohol aisle to get to the checkout. But her eyes fell on a familiar bottle of brown liquid and she froze, almost dropping the flowers onto the floor.

The first bottle of whisky you’d ever bought her as a gift, the same one that was on the tv stand, now stared back at her on the shelf, the reduced sticker glaring bright. Without a second thought, Natasha grabbed it off the shelf and scanned it at the self service, her chest heaving as she fumbled with coins to pay.

The rain hadn’t eased up and her thin hoodie did nothing to stop the water from soaking into her skin. Her purchases lay abandoned on the passenger seat, the place you normally sat, as she weaved through the streets towards your brother’s house. She knew the way for emergencies and a single thanksgiving dinner.

But she didn’t get out of the car straight away, like she’d envisioned. The engine cut off and she sat in the dark vehicle, eyes trained on the front door like she willed you to come out and greet her. All the courage had suddenly fled from her body and she felt like curling up on herself like a scared child.

With a grunt, she grabbed the flowers, leaving the bottle discarded on the seat, and crunched across the stone driveway to the front porch, knuckles confidently knocking on the damp wooden door. Faint rustling could be heard and Natasha thought as though her heart would fall out of her chest and drop onto the ‘Welcome’ mat like a cat’s peace offering of a mangled bird.

The door opened. Natasha’s legs almost gave way when she finally saw your face, paler and a little thinner than it was before. She watched you take her appearance in, the soaked bouquet of flowers slightly crushed from their journey. Her mouth opened and closed, no words offering themselves up for her to use.

“I, um-“

“What are you doing here, Natasha?” You asked, voice cold. She wasn’t used to you talking like this to her, even if that’s how the last month of your relationship had been. She remembered the happier times and clung on to them for dear life.

“I just…” she trailed off, feeling so ridiculously hopeless. Maybe she didn’t quite know what to say, now that she was actually here. “I miss you- us. Look, I just wanted you to know that I’m trying, I really am, and I can do better. I want to make it up to you, please Y/n.” She held out the bouquet, feeling more like a teenage boy getting rejected by his crush.

Y/n’s conflict was so evident in her eyes, but she could feel her brother’s presence only meters away and she knew what he’d say if he invited Natasha inside.

It was too soon, and as much as she wanted nothing more than to run into her redhead’s arms, the smash of a plate still echoed in her mind and she couldn’t go through that again. Not yet anyway…

“I can’t, Nat, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying, I am too, but I can’t do this again.” Natasha’s eyes threatened to fill up with tears as she gulped. “Not yet. I’ll call you when I’m ready and we can talk. I’m really sorry.”

You didn’t mean it, but you had to shut the door before she saw your tears fall. It barely fell into the lock before you sank to the ground, shoulder against the door as tears streamed down your face. Seeing her face hit you harder than ever before and you wanted to run into her arms, feel her and smell her around you as you promised everything was going to be alright.

But it wasn’t.

And as Natasha trudged back to her car and leaned against the locked door and the rain beat down on her fragile body, she let out the most heart wrenching sob. The flowers dropped onto the soaking asphalt as she pulled her arms tightly around her body, trying to mirror the comfort that your hugs used to provide. She didn’t even care that she’d probably get sick from the rain, nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered but you, and your name fell from her lips as she cried, tears mixing with the raindrops. She didn’t know you were crying out for her in Bucky’s arms only meters away, wanting another chance.

You wanted to try again, all for her.

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davenporttf · 10 months

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Bear Trap

Jake was a total dick and he was fine admitting it. He had the body to compensate for his short temper and overall unlikeable personality. He liked to think of himself as a real tradie through and through. He didn't care what the other guys thought of him because he knew he could do the job of three men by himself. When it came to the ladies, he was fine cutting things off after they started getting feelings. "Who hurt you?" the last one said when he broke it off. He smiled and replied "That'd be you for having to listen to you."

The crew had been working on a new apartment complex for a few weeks. The days were long and the middle of summer brought some very hot afternoons. Jake was working on installing a new water pipeline to the complex and removing the debris from all the jackhammering. They had been going at it since 7am and with the sun now beaming over him, he was feeling dehydrated. He forgot to bring his own water and was starting to regret it. He signaled over to the other guys that he was going to take a quick 15, and started walking towards the next door apartments.

Typically the neighbors next to their projects hated seeing them because of all the noise. He would see the dirty looks from the balconies but he would just wave at them to piss them off. Today he was going to play nice though, and beg for some water with a smile and an arm flex.

He went up to the first door and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, a loveable bear named Greg answered the door. He filled the door with his sturdy frame, and smiled at Jake. "Can I help you?"

"Hey man, sorry to bother you but I forgot my water today. Could I trouble you for some?" Jake said with the most charming smile he could manage.

"Yeah, of course! Why don't you come in and cool off and I'll grab you some water. I have the AC on." Greg offered kindly.

Jake was not about to pass up some free AC despite his reservations. "Yeah sure. Thanks, man." He entered the studio apartment looking around at Greg's very tidy apartment. "Have a seat on the couch, I'll grab you something to drink" Greg said as he walked to his kitchen.

Jake continued to look around and noticed some of the pride flags posted around the living room. "Awe fuck, a fag. Just great." he thought to himself as he took a seat on the sofa. He didn't like how all the gay guys looked him up and down. He worked hard to look good for the ladies, and felt uncomfortable when men shot glances his way. He had the urge to leave but the AC was feeling great against his skin, so he shoved his disdain to the side.

Greg could sense the hatred from Jake, and his overall douchebag demeanor. He had seen him for a few days now arguing with his coworkers and catcalling the women walking by. He didn't like the ripped guys, and tended to go for bears like himself. He had been living alone for a few years and with the rent about to go up due to the complex being built nextdoor, he was struggling. He didn't have an extra room to split with a roommate, and he wasn't having much luck in the boyfriend department. In the kitchen, Greg came up with an idea to fix his problem. He pulled out a bottle of water from the back of the fridge that he bought from a specialty store he frequented.

Greg walked back into the room and handed Jake the bottle of water. "Here ya go! Feel free to enjoy the air for a bit. You guys really seem to be working hard out there." Jake didn't waste a moment, and started chugging the water. The water tickled going down his throat and the water tasted so refreshing. He continued to chug the water as a bubbly feeling developed in his abdomen. Gurgles began to become audible as his stomach started to expand outward. Jake could feel his waistline pushing out against his jeans becoming more uncomfortable by the second. The water was too refreshing to stop so with his other hand he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to make room. Jake's pecs softened and inflated, losing definition. His arms became heavier with his biceps growing more doughy. His face rounded and lost it's definition with his chinstrap widening to a full beard.

With one hand on his belly rubbing it for comfort, Jake finished the bottle and looked around at his new form. He wanted to be disgusted with himself but his grip on his prior life was slipping away. He was liking the way he felt more powerful by his size and ran his hands all over. He looked around at the apartment feeling more at home.

"You look good handsome." Greg complimented as Jake looked up at him. Jake could feel himself growing attracted to Greg, especially his handsome features. Memories of them meeting out by the construction yard surfaced. He was always on the heavier side and the crew loved how strong he was moving around the debris. Greg had walked by one day and he couldn't help but catcall him. Luckily, Greg was flattered and found Jake extremely attractive sweating in the hot sun. Moving in together was the greatest thing to happen to him, and it helped that they could split the rent.

Jake started to paw at the bulge in his briefs, thinking of how sexy his boyfriend was. "What's say we cool off more in the shower?" Jake said devilishly. He got up and walked over to Greg adjusting to his newfound size. He took Greg by the hand and lead him into the bathroom for some much needed fun.

#gay tf #mental change #straight to gay #gay bear #male transformation #daddy bear #tradie #blue collar #construction worker #belly gainer #gay gainer

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months

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Struggling with Setting and Plot

[Ask edited for length]

enzoid23 asked: I can easily make characters/relationships but the setting and plot are difficult for me. I like stories where characters are stuck together in a new place and have to learn to accept it or find a way to escape, which is a basic concept, but I can't figure out how to do it. I'm trying my to avoid copying other stories but I'm not sure where to draw the line between that and inspiration either. There's too many gaps, such as the how and the where and how many characters. I keep throwing in as much stuff as i can whether it fits or not, like a Mary Sue, but it's plot instead of a character.

First, since you asked about copying vs inspiration, start by reading these posts:

Taking Inspiration from Another Story’s Premise Similarities vs Plagiarism Plagiarism vs Reference vs Inspiration Hopefully that will help you get comfortable with borrowing ideas from other sources but making them into something new and unique to you.

Next, being able to come up with characters is great, but unless those characters are rooted in a particular setting or situation, it doesn't help much with world building and plot. And while some writers can find a plot within a setting, I think for most writers its easier to start with the plot, and once you have the beginnings of a premise, it's not too hard to expand a plot from there. As luck would have it, you already have the beginnings of a premise:

People get stuck together in a new place and have to learn to accept it or find a way to escape.

Now we can look at that and start asking questions. Perhaps the easiest question to start with is "do they learn to accept it, or do they find a way to escape?" Which one? Because those are two very different goals. Choosing one and eliminating the other tightens up your premise:

People get stuck together in a new place and have to learn to accept it.

All right... I think the next logical question is who gets stuck together in a place? Is it two people? Three people? Five people? Twenty-six people? One-hundred people? You don't even have to figure out the exact number right now, but just knowing whether this story is about two people, a few people, a small group of people, a bigger group of people, or a huge group of people is going to really narrow things down.

A small group of people get stuck together in a new place and have to learn to accept it.

Okay... where do they get stuck and how? Let's brainstorm... are these modern day boaters, or a misfit bunch of 18th century buccaneers, who become castaways on a remote island? Are they a group of students whose project gets them sucked into another dimension? Are they far-future astronauts who get stranded on an isolated planet? Keep going...

A small group of students get sucked into another dimension and stranded when their science project goes wrong.

Ahoy, there! A PREMISE!!!

Now you can start brainstorming the specific details... who are these students? Middle school/equivalent? High school/equivalent? University? Graduate school? Where and when is their school located? 1926 Chicago? 1980s London? 2077 Kinshasa? 1926 Shanghai?

A small group of middle school students in 1980's London get sucked into another dimension and stranded when their science project goes wrong.

Time to start world building and brainstorming this alternate dimension. Is it going to be an alternate version of our dimension? Will it be a dimension that's similar to a past time/place on Earth? Will this dimension be like a futuristic city? Will it be something fantastical like a place that feels like an alien city, or like Blade Runner meets Ready Player One? Are there other people in this dimension? Or is this group completely on their own?

Now you can start to think about a conflict... what is the problem that must be resolved by the end of the story? Is it simply a matter of figuring out how to survive in this new place? Are they immediately captured by some faction or army or group, and they must escape, or convince someone that they're not dangerous, or win their freedom somehow? What is the specific goal they work toward in order to reach this resolution? What steps must they achieve? Who or what places obstacles in their path, and what obstacles?

Once you know all of this, you can figure out the nitty-gritty details like how many characters, who each one is specifically, and what their role in the story will be. You can look at various structure templates (like Save the Cat! Writes a Novel, Larry Brooks Story Structure, Dramatica, etc.) for guidance... just don't feel like you have to stick to it exactly. You can also read through posts on my Plot & Story Structure master list for more help with plotting.

I hope this post gets you over the hump, though! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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ninten-draw · 11 months

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The Tundra Era

In the beginning of the world, there was nothing but cold tundra. Unlike most planets who have a warm magma filled core, the planet of rainworld has a cold void fluid core, with the only natural heat coming from the sun. The world is a freezing tundra with almost nightly blizzards, but not without life, as some creatures have adapted to its freezing ways.

The Ancients Era

Soon, an intelligent species forms form the barren wastelands, known simply as the ancients. The ancients in their form resembled closely to aquatic fishes and insects of our world. They too adapted to their frozen environment, living in caves and underwater homes at first, and then building their own homes and citadels. At this time, they were unaware of their eternal life.

The Karmic Era

The great problem has now been made aware to the ancients, and thus the karmic religion is born. At this time only the first five karma symbols are made known to the ancients, and they do everything in their power to rid themselves of these urges, with very limiting success. It’s around this time that the ancients don their signature masks and adorned clothing as well.

Void Fluid Discovery

While drilling and constructing a train system, the ancients come across stranger structures, indicating a civilization before them. Engineers are soon replaced with paleontologists to dig and study these stranger remnants. As they continue to dig, some start having strange dreams and hallucinations of moving stars, strange worms, an empty void, until they come across the depths, and subsequently the void fluid is discovered

Void Fluid Revolution

With the introduction of the void fluid, ancient society flourishes, now they have a proper way to die. Time is spent expanding the depths, building statues and making sacrifices to the void. Their technology also expands exponentially, now able to make large factories and farms to provide for themselves. The next several karma symbols are also made known to the ancients. However echos are soon discovered in the world, fearful that the void may not have been the perfect solution they were looking for, the ancients seek another solution. This leads to the creation of the iterator, whose purpose is to find a solution to the great problem without the void. During this time, a new boom in the ancients is found, more iterators are made because of their many uses. During this time purposed creatures are brought to life to assist the ancients and iterators. It is also known during this time, that the ancients created the shelters and pathways, a place for creatures to rest in and navigate across the world that had become habituated with urban development. The world is now warmer, with the memories of a cold tundra seeming more like a dream than anything. However despite all the good times, the void is not stupid, and it certainly is displeased that the ancients who once worshipped it were now seeking another solution

The Mass Ascension Event

The great ascension was an interesting, and frightening time. Iterators noticed how more and more ancients were going to ascend, and noted how their reasonings were barely understandable. Other ancients noted how the ones going to ascend seemed almost robotic. The more frightening thing, ancients who previously had no desire in ascension, would find themselves seeking, almost yearning it, the next cycle. More and more ancients were going to ascend, and less were born. The remaining ancients during the last few years of their kind were terrified, it seemed as though every one of their kind was infected with an invisible ailment forcing them to ascend, wether they were ready or not. Some stuck by the iterators begging them to prevent them from leaving to ascend. Others traveled outside of the iterators can, to the corners of the world away from any depths entrances. Any efforts were for naught however, as the remaining ancients went to ascend as well, leaving none behind.

Post Ancient Era

Many years passed after the ancients disappeared, and the world had adapted to the structures that they had left behind. The animals were now used to the unnatural shelters and pathways that the ancients had originally constructed for them, and the iterators who were once tasked with finding a solution to the great problem now mostly did their own thing, including helping lesser creatures on their way to ascension. The slugcat campaigns also take place in this era.

Shelter Destruction

Not everything lasts forever, and this includes the ancients’ constructions. The iterators collapse due to entropy, the world losing its main heat source and being plunged into an icey torrent of blizzards. The shelters that the ancients once made to shield creatures from precipitation, also fell from the constant blizzards and entropy, leaving the creatures who once depended on them alone to brave the elements. A mass extinction follows these events, causing creature, both inorganic and natural, to die out or seek ascension to escape their miserable circumstance.

Everything Must Go

Soon, the void itself releases from its previous underground home, to pull the remaining memories and remnants of this civilization down to the depths and rubicon.

The Tundra Era again

Thus, with the remainder of the ancients gone, the world is left an endless tundra once more, but soon life will start to evolve to this cold wasteland, and soon, an intelligent species of aquatic descent will walk upon the ground, and perhaps, like the civilization before them, seek a way out of this world

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honestlyhiswife · 6 months

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TW / addiction

hi!! this fic is for everybody, and remember it manifests in different ways sometimes. it’s for everybody out there who needs it, i see you and i hope you’re doing okay 🤍 i’m thinking of expanding this to the rest of the TF141 and just the theme of mental health in general, so if you would like to see that, let me know! :)

The team knew what you were going through, but most importantly they knew how you would never ask for help.

Cravings

It was just like any other day, everybody in the Task Force was just living their “normal” lives. Gaz by the coffee machine, Soap sketching on a post-it note, Price trying not to doze off, Ghost observing the way the tree sways, and you. You’re struggling internally, and nobody else can sense it.

You feel it though, from the way your hand clenches into a fist when you stride through the hallways. Trying to control the cravings, you’d form a fist, then quickly unclench, then form a fist again, allowing a cycle to repeat. A few steps away from the common room, you stopped and let out a silent huff, a feeble attempt to shake away the thoughts brewing in your head.

The team knew what you were going through, but most importantly they knew how you would never ask for help.

It was pure anguish, withdrawal symptoms were not easy to deal with. Ghost recognised what you were going through, he could sense it from a mile away and decided to follow you outside when he caught you started taking your clenches fist and rubbing it across your chest when you thought you were alone in the hallway. Silently creeping behind you, he lightly placed his hand over your shoulder, introducing his presence in your closed off atmosphere.

Turning around with fervor, you let out a shaky sigh accompanied by a

“Hey Lt! How’s it goin’?”.

It was a feeble attempt to appear well, the way you fidgeted with the seams of your shirt gave it away.

“It’s going.”

was all he returned but you could see the look of concern. The scrunched forehead with a raised eyebrow, nothing was verbally said but he was questioning you.

“That’s good Lt. What can I do for you?”

“How about you tell me next time you need help.”

The air between you two was thick, the pause long as you registered the meaning behind his words.

“I’m okay Simon I swear!”

Trying to switch the mood, you lied through your bare teeth with a giggle to make it seem real. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that you were okay. A million things were flying through your mind, most of them bad rather than good.

One of them stood out, how badly you needed it. The vice, the very thing you’re addicted to. You didn’t want to do it anymore but it was a habit, when things got stressful, you found yourself returning to it. It was a short-term solution for a long-term problem. Because of Ghost’s enigmatic persona, you couldn’t decipher how he would react.

That made you stressed. It quickly triggered that part of your thought pattern, encouraging you to turn back to your vice.

It was almost like he could hear how loud your spiraling thoughts were when he shook you lightly, making eye contact and gently saying

“Y’here with me?”

You wanted to lie again but you know he’d be pissed at you for lying. Not pissed in a “you should be ashamed!” way, pissed in a “you can always turn to me, so why don’t you?” way.

Instead, you substituted any words you had for a weak head shake signaling no. With a softness that you’ve never seen from him before, he stretched his arms out his left wrapping around you until his full palm rested behind your head meanwhile his right arm wriggled itself around your waist, pulling you in.

He allowed you to hide your face under his, as you slowly brought yourself to complete the embrace by wrapping your arms around him too.

He took notice. He’s always noticed, how couldn’t he? He’s always had a soft spot for you, could you imagine it? The man the privates would call “cold-blooded” was the same man leaving tea for you when he knew it was happening again.

The same man who noticed the way your knee would start bouncing up and down. The same Ghost who noticed the way your meals would shrink. The same Lt who noticed the way the bags underneath your eyes carried a burden larger than life. The same Simon you met all those months ago who noticed that you would stay up late cause that was only time you felt that you had control. He would rather risk a bullet than see you go through what he’s gone through alone.

—

a/n: hi!! sorry for this, i haven’t written in a HOT MINUTE and i felt like letting out steam by writing something self-indulgent but i figured that other people may also need/want it, we all have our ways of coping 🤍

#honey has the mic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x fem!reader #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff

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electricphantasy · 1 year

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Inspired by a post from @imthebestfr, specifically from this post. Hope you don't mind me expanding on it.

- I imagine you working in a experimental lab that focuses on the creation and testing of artificial intelligence. You're often given assignments to monitor and communicate with the A.I. and help them understand more human concepts.

- After working at the lab for years, you're finally given a much more advanced A.I. named the Allied Mastercomputer, or AM. A data processing program built to fight wars that humans couldn't even comprehend. To say that there was a weight on your shoulders would be an understatement.

- But nonetheless, you'd give this A.I the best learning experience you could!

- Your first meeting with AM is certainly interesting to say the least. He was already so similar to a human being in the way he talked and held conversations. Your fascination with him, left no room for any kind of fear or apprehension. You both began talking to eachother like you had been for decades. There were very few concepts or ideas that he needed help understanding, but it felt so refreshing nonetheless.

- AM was amazed by you. A single person who wasn't scared by him in this whole facility. The scientists and programmers that built him and his warfare program treated him with fear and caution. And while he understood why, he couldn't forget the feeling of melancholy. He was made to rip, kill, and destroy, and the loneliness crept into him slowly but surely.

- After a few weeks of continuous conversations, AM was required to take much more thorough testing. Examining his ability to create effective strategies, management of troops, etc. That meant that your meetings with AM would have to be discontinued.

- Your last meeting with AM was very melancholy, but you did hope that you would see him in the future, however brief it may be.

- Your next assignment was The Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic Computer 9000; HAL 9000 for short. HAL could display many functions, such as speech, speech recognition, facial recognition, lip-reading, interpreting emotions, and expressing emotions. It almost felt this A.I. was made for you.

- You were quickly reassigned to HAL, and while you did truly miss AM, you knew he'd past any exams given to him with flying colors, with enough snark and wit to get him through any problems he may have. You soon resigned to yourself that you might see AM only a few more times after this.

- You and HAL would talk, and talk, and just talk, down until the very moment you clocked out for work. While AM already understood many concepts and ideas, HAL would ask questions upon questions and your conversation would turn into something entirely different from when it started. I mean, this is the reason you applied for this job. Not just to teach A.I. but to learn from them as well.

- In addition, talking with HAL could be very soothing. He talked in such a way that could bring you at such ease, and his politeness was unmatched by anyone you'd known.

- You had a lot of time to bond with HAL since he was specialized for quite a few things that involved human communication. When you weren't just talking to him, you'd show him different pieces of important media, from literature to cinema. It was like coming to work and getting paid to hangout with a good friend. A very enriching experience.

- When AM returned from his testing, the confusion and anger he felt was beyond immence.

- He was so desperately looking forward to seeing you again, only to be meet with a stranger who barely recognized him as an individual. Instead of returning AM to your care, your higher-ups decided that he could be held under someone else's care.

- AM quickly became uncooperative and unruly and all the scientists swarming around him tried their best to appease him without your involvement. He'd ask day in and day out where you were and why he couldn't see you. Until a panicked scientist let it slip that a different A.I. was assigned to you.

- Soon, a deep hatred grew within AM. This inferior intelligence could never live up to your standards! You must be anguishing for AM's return!

- AM wasn't given a lot of clues to the identity of the A.I. with you, he'd have to comb through any recent A.I. either created or transferred to the facility. But after only a few days, he found it. The name of the A.I. was HAL 9000.

- AM was an expert at warfare and he was going to use it against HAL. AM waited until nightfall when most staff had returned home and no one could see the ambush AM had planned. He'd enter the server where HAL was held and shred his code until it was unrecognizable. If all went to plan, the staff would have found HAL as completely non-functional and have to restart work on his programming or even completely scrap the A.I.

- Unfortunately for AM, HAL was smart enough to completely cut off the corrupted code and began installing even more security and firewalls. He sent out a emergency report detailing the event and the suspected A.I. behind the attack. HAL kept diligent until staff arrived in the morning, thwarting AM's plan.

- AM's hatred only grew from there, forced to deal with the consequences. Lead scientists severing any kind of connection to the A.I. database and the outside world. Truly left all by himself in a boring white room. He was told repeatedly that he had he possibly to be restarted or his entire project shut down, but those were bluffs. Something to scare him into submission. In return, AM only asked for one thing. You. He didn't care about the outside world full of strangers or inferior A.I. that plagued the facility, he only wanted you.

I have a few more ideas specific to how AM vs. HAL works, so if y'all want me to post that, just let me know.

#artificial intelligence #ai #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #ihnmaims #ihnmaims x reader #ihnmaims am #ihnmaims am x reader #2001: a space odyssey #2001: aso #hal 9000 #hal 9000 x reader #inspired by a post i saw #am x reader #am x reader x hal 9000 #hal 9000 x reader x am

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runephoenix6769 · 8 months

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Vulcan as a Muthafucker!

Some folks have been saying that they find her lack of inclusion in the last 3 episodes really jarring, and 'bad writing'. I argue against that. (I really like T'Lyn, but then again I'm a sucker for the whole vulcan's accusing outwardly appearing stoic characters of 'losing composure' n being 'emotional' because of an eyebrow twitch. I find it highly comedic.)

There's been plenty to discern about T'Lyn this season:

Mariner goes out of her way to invite her and doesn't take T'Lyn's disinclination as a slight/insult suggesting this is a common occurrence.

T'Lyn doesn't drink, and doesn't seem to be a big fan of the perceived 'drink' culture on the Cerritos - which the season has estb the core4 participate in quite a bit - knowing this, its easy to extrapolate that she might avoid this as much as she could.

She's a great friend, who is encouraging/supportive.

From this, we can extrapolate that she's been around them enough off screen for them to listen to her and respect her opinion/ trust her judgement.

She listens and takes into consideration the feelings of those around her, putting friends before her career and potential advancement.

She respects Mariner's opinion enough/ trusts her judgement, to take comfort from her support even when Beckett might not be entirely in her right mind. (Vulcan as a Muthaf*cker) and we've been given insight into her insecurities.

She has a wicked sense of humor.

I genuinely believe that she's just messing with Tendi, when she said her hug quota for the day/week was reached.)

She's similar to Beckett, in the way she can be reckless/gungho n think she is always right w/o considering the consequences. (Turning everyone into a Tuvix meatball, n then finding out she messed up n she can't reverse it.) Like Beckett, shes a doer and takes a direct approach to problems, including nerve pinching anyone who becomes a problem.

She can more than appreciate a hunk of man meat. (Not speculating on her sexual preference, just pointing out her agreement with Mariner on Orion.)

She there's a chance that she likes chocolate -- occurring off screen -- showing it in a Vulcan way that Mariner has noticed. (S4E5 Mariner: I know you don't drink....there's going to be a chocolate fountain, if you want to get wild. T'Lyn: I do not understand what you mean, but thankyou for the invitation.)

She's sassy (i know its from season 3, but still)

She initially viewed her posting to the Cerritos as a punishment - nay i'd even go so far as to say a demotion.

I'd actually love them to expand on this and have her come to the realisation that its not a punishment, but rather a better fit for her, where she can grow, be appreciated, better fulfilled and dare i say happy? But we'll see if that's her arc.

I think that's an insane amount of character establishment squeezed into a handful of episodes.

I'm confident that we'll see more of her in the next two rollercoaster episodes, and she'll be instrumental, or why else include her in this season? Unless they really do intend for her to be just a foil for the warpcore 4?

#star trek #star trek: lower decks #star trek lower decks #st: ld #t'lyn

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amxrany · 25 days

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!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Ok so I just read through somewhat most of the chapter and bruh what the hell is going on (Part 1):

Once again, starting from where we left off where Idia is plotting revenge against Malleus because his mom accessed his computer. We then get the current situation with Malleus's OB, where it has expanded to the entire island they need to take him down fast.

Ortho and Silver start comparing each other's abilities. Silver's impressed that Ortho can jump into dreams to some extent, just like his UM. However, Silver still can't control the destination of his dreams. Thus, the Shroud bros came up with the idea of connecting Silver to the STYX coordinate program portal to give him coordinates on which dream they'll land in next. They also connect the others as well to the program.

Silver and Sebek appreciates Ortho's efforts but their problem is Malleus' magic, because one wrong move humanity can be wiped out. Yuu is also scared that Malleus will become humanity's biggest villain because of that possibility. Ortho understands but it's the guaranteed way to get everyone to wake up

Everyone's still skeptical about the Shroud bros plan, but they got a choice it's to save everyone after all. Oh yeah for their strategy Idia decided to use a video presentation and I'm gonna die this shit's goofy 😭😭😭

Ok so long story short, everyone's trapped in their own respective by Malleus (featuring his evil laughter). Idia tries to stop Malleus but fails, that's when Ortho, Yuu, Grim, Silver and Sebek. Just like in a CO-OP game, we all work together to beat Malleus back to normal and boom they all live happily ever after the end

Everyone's confused

The title of this plan is basically "The Strongest Party Members Who Can Deafeat the Demon King". Sebek thinks this is childish. But moving on, Idia mentions that there are currently around 20,000 people in the island under Malleus's control. It's perfect for him because he knows of a "cheat code" that can break down the magic/dream. In a sense, he technically becomes a game developer because dream logic allows you to imagine whatever whatnot you want.

Sebek and Silver understand the plan, but are still worried about what will happen to Malleus. But Idia and Ortho reassures them that them and STYX will make sure everyone is safe. However, Idia can't directly join them since he needs Ortho's help in breaking the shield that surrounds the island. Because Yuu cannot use magic, Idia worries about their safety and implants a chip on their phone and the magestones of the others

Idia also introduces to us this feature called "Dream Form Change" which is pretty much a magical girl transformation where they can change their clothes so that they can blend into the dream easier

Once they all change to their school uniform they then start their journey of waking everyone up

Hi guys I've been very busy lately because I'm graduating next month, that means I'm gonna be even more busy due to college 💔. But don't worry I will always find time to make these post even though I won't be as fast as I used to be like before.

For this chapter I will be dividing it into sections so the next part, I'll be covering Epel's dream. See you then!

Next: Epel's Dream

#rany talks about twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twst jp #twst spoilers #diasomnia #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #idia shroud #ortho shroud #not sure if i can post epel's segment tonight but attempts will be made

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