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crackinglamb · 3 years

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You Have Chosen Nydha To Be Your Companion!

Hopping off @little-lightning-lavellan's idea to take a DA:I OC and turn them into a companion, may I present Banal'ras Nydha (from Hope Is a Fragile Thing) and her wiki page.

General

Banal'ras Nydha looks human, although there is something that doesn't seem quite right about her. She has dark hair and skin and startlingly green eyes, and speaks with a low, raspy voice. It is often difficult to find her in a room. Nydha first appears, and is available to recruit, in the Temple of Sacred Ashes before attempting to close the Breach. She offers knowledge and combat tactics against demons. If dismissed, or never spoken to, she will then be spotted in Haven behind Solas's cabin. She will not be available to recruit at that time, although once the Inquisition is relocated to Skyhold, she will make an offer to travel with the Inquisitor. If dismissed again, she will become a non-interactive NPC in the Rotunda, usually found near the mural or atop the scaffolding. If she is never recruited, she will disappear from Skyhold after the final battle with Corypheus.

Nydha is not romanceable by any Inquisitor, but can engage in a relationship with Solas if a female Dalish Inquisitor has not done so. She is friendly and bonds well with most of the other party members, especially Cole, Dorian and, of course, Solas. She prefers diplomacy and tends towards mediation rather than confrontation. If a Dalish Inquisitor has romanced Solas, and has high approval, Nydha will offer comfort and sympathy upon termination of the relationship. If low approval, Nydha has nothing to say.

She has strong opinions on the plight of elves, slaves and mages. She is supportive of any measures that would improve the lives of them. Her early banter with Dorian revolves around debating Tevinter's practices and trying to get him to see a better way. She will also speak with Iron Bull about the shortcomings of the Qun, although never with the same level of disdain as Solas. While she never openly mocks the Chantry or Andrastianism, she isn't a strong supporter or believer and has no opinion on who becomes Divine.

Location

In Haven, Nydha can be found behind Solas's cabin, usually in the darkest corner. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, she can be found in either the Arcane Library or the Rotunda.

Approval

Nydha's approval level is based upon empathy. An Inquisitor who is helpful, respectful and curious will gain approval. Nydha has no opinion on quests such as Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts or the outcome of Here Lies the Abyss, but approves diplomatic resolutions to judgments. She will greatly approve allying with the Free Mages, and only slightly approve conscripting the Templars. Conscription of the Free Mages or allying with the Templars will result in full disapproval. She will greatly approve Iron Bull becoming Tal-Vashoth and keeping Cole as a spirit. Actions that are ruthless or cruel will lose approval.

A high approval Inquisitor will learn that Nydha was born in another world and 'crossed over' through the Veil when the Breach opened. She will tell the Inquisitor that her name was given to her as a gift from someone she met in the Fade. She does not, however, say that it is Solas (see below for unique Trespasser dialogue). She will say that her name means 'Shadow of Night', according to her translation. A Dalish Inquisitor can have special dialogue to recognize the name as being Elvish and can question how a human came to have it. Nydha will answer that it is because the native language of the Fade is Elvish, a remnant from when elves held all of Thedas before human arrival.

A low approval Inquisitor will not learn this part of her history and she will remain an enigma. If approval falls to zero, she will refuse to speak to the Inquisitor, although she does not leave and is still available as a companion.

Quests

Survivor In the Shadows – the quest for meeting Nydha initially at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It begins upon speaking with her, and ends with either recruitment or dismissal.

From the Ashes – only available after either In Hushed Whispers or Champions of the Just, but before completion of In Your Heart Shall Burn, Nydha will ask the Herald to accompany her back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to search for her few belongings. The Herald will find a journal, a bundle of unusual clothes and a single unmarked vial. Nydha will approve completing this quest.

A Better Form – Nydha will ask for help in stabilizing her corporeal body if Dagna is brought into the Inquisition. Resolution of this quest will involve having Dagna create a unique amulet that will act as a permanent grounding source, rather like a lightning rod. Components for this amulet are: 1 blank rune stone, 1 wisp essence, and either 5 dawnstone or 5 volcanic aurum (both imbue constitution bonuses). It will act as an Amulet of Power, granting Nydha an extra skill point. This is the only time such an ability will be available to her. This will also allow her to wear other amulets throughout the remainder of the game. She, and Solas, will greatly approve completing this quest.

Twice-Born – available during the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. Nydha, if in the party, will ask to speak with the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold once relations with the hold have been established. If she is not among the Inquisitor's party, she will be found in the main scout camp near Professor Kenric. What the two speak about will be unknown, but at the end of the quest, Nydha will inform the Inquisitor that she has been given the legend-mark Twice-Born from the hold's 'gods'. Cole will greatly approve completing this quest, regardless of whether or not he is in the party.

Note: This quest is not dependent upon approval, but is the only time she will speak with a zeroed out Inquisitor, should that level of low approval be reached.

Ability Tree/Specialization

Nydha is technically a rogue, and can utilize either a bow or double daggers. She has an autolevel preference for the Subterfuge tree, and has an additional, unique starting skill in Fade Cloak. This does not require further leveling to be active. It is the only skill that cannot be deactivated from her skillset.

She can specialize in either Tempest or Rift Mage, due to her nature as a being from the Fade. She is not otherwise a mage. Her decision on specialization can be influenced, as she will ask the Inquisitor's opinion. If no opinion is given, she will default to taking Tempest.

Combat comments

“Come get some!”

“Catch me if you can!”

(If specialized in Tempest) “Burn, baby, burn.”

(If specialized in Rift Mage) “Ooh, the stuff of nightmares.”

Kills an enemy

“Another one bites the dust.”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Then perish.”

Low Health

“This was not on my agenda today.”

“A little help?”

Low Health (Companions)

For all general companions: “I have your back.”

If in a romance with Solas: “Take a breather, fenorain.”

Fallen Companions

For all general companions: “I'll make them pay!”

If in a romance with Solas: “NO!”

Location Comments

Ferelden:

Hinterlands: “Why is it so big? Why is everything so big?”

Fallow Mire: “I have mud in unmentionable places. Can we go now?”

Storm Coast: “I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky.”

If companions question her: “It's just from a poem I once read.”

Orlais:

Exalted Plains: “So much death. Can't you feel it?”

Emerald Graves: “This forest is old. Very old.” [laughs] “I always wanted to say that in proper context.”

Emprise du Lion: “Stay away from the bloody lyrium. And wear a hat.”

At Suledin Keep after Imshael, if Solas is in the party: “Ir abelas, lethallin.” (If romanced) Ir abelas, fenorain.”

Solas's reply (only translated if the Inquisitor is Dalish): “Ma serannas. Ea lam'an.” (It is in the past)

At the Pools of the Sun, regarding the trio of dragons: “Can't we just leave them alone? They really won't hurt anyone if we keep our distance.”

Hissing Waste: “You know, if you ignore the endless vista of sand, it's really quite beautiful. In a bleak kind of way.”

Western Approach: “Hot. Hot and blighted. I need a drink.”

Forbidden Oasis, upon reaching the second camp: “That's it, I'm never leaving.”

Arbor Wilds: “Mind your footing. This place is full of secrets.”

In Val Royeaux: “Pretty place.”

Frostback Basin: “I could stay here forever. Even with the varmints.”

The Descent: “Nice and dark, just the way I like it.”

At the Wellspring: “Wow...that's amazing.”

Trespasser: “Now it all ends, my friend.”

If the Inquisitor questions the statement: “You'll see soon enough.”

Companion/Advisor comments

Varric – Gotta watch out for Spooky, there's something about her I can't put my finger on.

Cassandra – She is an able fighter, but I would not trust her out of my sight, which is far too often.

Solas – She is secretive by nature, but I would assure you that she means no harm.

Iron Bull – She's a tricky one. Good fighter, lotta secrets. Good at keeping them too. I don't think I've cracked a single one that she didn't tell me herself.

Dorian – She's fascinating. I am not at liberty to say why, of course, if you don't already know.

Cole – Bright as the sun and scattered as the stars. She wants to help, just like I do.

Vivienne – She seems capable enough, my dear. But I would not dare to trust her. She is an accomplished player of the Game, for all her smiles and good cheer.

Sera – She's as bad as Creepy, although she's better at jokes. She's better at hiding than I am!

Blackwall – She knows something. She knows too many somethings.

Josephine – She keeps to herself and has caused no diplomatic incidents. I wish I could say the same for some of the others gathered here.

Leliana – I find it curious that I cannot find any solid evidence of her existence before the Conclave, but that does not automatically mark her a spy. However, her nature makes me no more inclined to trust her. I would be wary of her.

Cullen – Who? Oh, the...shadowy...person. I hear she can handle herself. I can't say I've spoken with her, so I don't have an opinion.

Trespasser

There is a unique dialogue tree available to the Inquisitor while speaking with Solas if Nydha was recruited as a companion.

“Did you know about Nydha?”

“Yes, I am the one who gave her her name. I found her while I yet slept, and she became corporeal after the Breach.”

(First branch) “Is she one of your agents?”

“No. She has only ever been my friend.”

(Special, if not romanced) “Your friend? It seemed to be more than that.”

“In another world, perhaps.”

(Second branch) “Is she joining you?”

“No, I would not wish her on this path.”

(Third branch) “She knew this whole time. Why didn't she tell me?”

“She had her reasons for not telling you. (If high approval) I hope you will not hold them against her.”

Regardless of approval, Nydha disappears after the Exalted Council. She settles in the Frostback Basin among the Avvar. A high approval Inquisitor will receive correspondence from her from time to time, but she will refuse to come back to the 'civilized' nations of Thedas, preferring privacy and isolation.

Trivia

If in the party during Here Lies the Abyss, the Nightmare demon will speak to her in Elvish. Her reply is a scoff and nothing else.

Nydha can be a third option at the Vir'Abelasan if she is in the party. If she is chosen to drink from the Well, Abelas does not object, although he will still point out that she will be bound as they are. If Nydha drinks, she will summon Flemeth and work with the Inquisitor to tame the dragon for the final confrontation with Corypheus. If she is in the party during Trespasser, she will be able to provide the password to the spirit guards, preventing a fight.

If Morrigan is allowed to attack Abelas, she will attempt to defend him and will argue that the witch is not worthy of the knowledge she seeks if brutality is her only way to get it. If there is a peaceful alliance with the Sentinels and Morrigan is chosen to drink, Nydha will slightly disapprove but hold her tongue on the matter.

If the Inquisitor drank from the Well, and succeeds in finding enough clues to determine that Solas is Fen'Harel, Nydha will appear saddened when the Inquisitor rebuts to the Viddasala that they already know. She will state that this was what she'd been waiting for. The Inquisitor will have the option to accuse her of knowing the whole time. She will answer yes, but she won't explain.

If Nydha is never recruited, and remains an NPC in the Rotunda, one will hear her occasionally speak with Solas. These conversations range in topic from books they are reading to the mural. Never about Inquisition business. There is a slight chance to hear them speaking in Elvish, and their words are not translated, regardless of Inquisitor's race. Solas's replies appear to be noncommittal.

Nydha will remark upon the Inquisitor's romantic choices, usually with something supportive and a hope that they are happy together. She will also comment something generally pleasant about each companion if asked. The exception to this is if Iron Bull remains Ben-Hassrath. Nydha will caution the Inquisitor to be careful of telling him too much since his loyalty is now unknown.

It can be implied from various interactions and from high approval conversation that Nydha was in fact aware of everything that would happen during the course of the game. She never gives a reason for keeping her silence on matters pertaining to what foreknowledge she had, although any input given during the game events is sound and often given in such a way so as not to risk suspicion.

It can also be implied that regardless of what Solas says during Trespasser, Nydha has actually left the Inquisition to join his ranks, or at least does not stand opposed to him. This is not confirmed, however, and according to her epilogue card, she is enjoying a quiet life in the Frostback Basin with no intention of ever interfering with Thedosian politics or events again.

#dragon age inquisition #oc as a companion wiki #original female character #banal'ras nydha #hope is a fragile thing #this is super long #I might have gotten carried away

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Heated (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Law, Shachi, Heart Pirates

Law's breath was heavy in his chest. His lungs laboured to draw in the oxygen and exhale the deoxygenised air his body no longer needed. Something cool rested on his forehead, and he mentally catalogued it as some sort of damp cloth. A fever, then, most likely the trail end of one, considering his return to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, his vision was assaulted by several faces looming over him wearing similar expressions of concern that morphed into relieved smiles as they registered his awakening.

"Captain!" his newest find exclaimed. Law noticed that he looked uneasy – that all the crewmembers crowding his personal space looked a little wary despite their smiles – and gave him a grin that he hoped was reassuring. As his senses fully returned to him, it wasn't difficult to pick up on the source of their nervous disposition; although out of his immediate line of sight, his haki picked up a dark aura in the room. Moving his head to the side, seeking the source, his eyes landed on Shachi, who stood a little way back, arms crossed.

The shades always made him harder to read than anyone else in the crew, hiding his eyes and whatever emotions they held. Part of Law wondered if he did it on purpose, refusing to let his eyes be healed so he had the convenient excuse of hiding what he felt when he wanted to. On this occasion, with the brim of his hat pulled low to throw extra shadows over the top of his face, his lips set into a thin line and his clothes, hair and cheek stained with blood, Law didn't need his haki to tell him Shachi was in a bad mood. The black aura only served to sow unease amongst the crew; even those without observation haki could tell that something wasn't right.

The normally cheerful, almost always smiling Shachi rarely fell into such a black mood, so it was unsurprising that even the older members weren't sure how to handle it. Law spared a moment to wonder where Penguin was, and if he would share in Shachi's mood or lighten it. On the rare occasions that the ginger's temper flared up significantly, his best friend was usually there to calm him. His absence was concerning.

"How are you feeling?" His eyes sought out the crewmember that had spoken, landing on the shorter man, and he offered another hopefully-reassuring grin.

"Fine," he told him, trying and failing to ignore the way the haki in the air soured further. "Weaker than usual, but it'll pass." The heavy air intensified again, and Shachi finally joined the circle surrounding his bed – or rather, the infirmary bed he was occupying, he noticed. Their nakama shuffled away slightly, giving Shachi plenty of space to thrust medicine into Law's mouth with little ceremony.

Law swallowed, making a face at the taste, but didn't complain. Whatever fever he'd had may have broken, but he was far from healthy.

"In that case," Shachi said, sounding as if he'd been the one forced to swallow the bitter medicine, "I'll go clean up." The blood must be from their battle – Law vaguely recalled the remains of a marine crashing into him – and he wondered how long his fever had raged for that Shachi had still not cleaned up.

A clink caught his attention in time for him to see one of those damned kairoseki cuffs snap shut around his wrist, and Law glared at him, only to receive an equal glower in return.

"Overusing your abilities landed you in here," Shachi told him bluntly, turning away and walking towards the door. "You don't get to use them again until you're back on your feet." Law watched the older man stalk out of the room, feeling the atmosphere lighten as soon as the door shut behind him, before turning to the members of his crew still present.

"Well?" he asked, managing to shift his wrist enough to lightly jangle the chain attached. Most of the crew were used to the occasional display of mutiny – he would be having words with Shachi when he got the chance – but the newer members had never seen anything of the sort before, so Law levelled them with an expectant look, hoping to coerce them into removing the insufferable restraint.

"Sorry, Captain," the newest whimpered, looking around at his nakama for support. "But… I think Shachi-san would gut me if I touched them." Law frowned. The refusal was hardly new, but he couldn't have Shachi establishing such terror amongst the newer recruits. Nakama should not have to fear each other. Unwilling to unnerve the new pirate further, Law changed the subject.

"Why are the engines running?" he asked, having registered the background rumble.

"We've set sail for the next island," Ikkaku told him, perching on the side of his bed and adjusting the cool cloth on his forehead. Law assumed his temperature was still higher than it should be, even if the main fever had broken.

"How long was I unconscious?" he asked, quickly doing the maths in his head and finding that it didn't work out, unless Shachi had been in the same bloodied clothes for almost a week.

"Approximately six hours," Clione told him, and Law frowned.

"The log pose wasn't due to set for another five days," he pointed out, watching them fidget. "Don't tell me you didn't wait."

"Shachi-san gave the order to set sail," the new recruit volunteered, and Law wished he had the energy to pinch the brow of his nose, because he felt a headache coming.

"And no-one reminded him about log poses?" he asked, wondering where Penguin and Bepo had been throughout all the madness. They looked at each other before shrugging.

"Penguin and Bepo were the ones that took control of the ship," Ikkaku told him and Law sighed. Well that answered that question, if rather unsatisfactorily. Penguin was supposed to be keeping Shachi in check when he came up with stupid ideas, not enabling him, and Bepo never stood a chance against the pair of them in a battle of wills.

"We wouldn't have had to set sail if someone hadn't been an idiot." Ah, the black cloud had returned to the room, still firmly accompanying Shachi, although the ginger was now free of bloodstains. His hair was still wet, dripping slowly onto the floor and Law wanted to forcibly dry it because Shachi knew better than that. More pressing was the issue of Shachi's attitude, though. He had long since crossed the line most captains would consider mutiny, and with that last comment was dancing dangerously close to Law's own definition.

"Sorry, but I want to speak to Shachi alone," he told his crewmates, who took one look at the ginger and all but scarpered from the room.

"What?" Shachi demanded the moment the door shut behind the last one. "You-"

"Do not speak to me like that," Law interrupted in a low growl. "I do not care how angry you are, there is only so much insubordination I can take and you are testing my patience."

If Shachi had been anyone else, anyone he hadn't known for the past eleven years, the resulting glower Law received would have seen him off the ship for good. As it was, Law chalked it up as one more strike in the tally he would be paying for later and took the sullen silence to mean Shachi was done antagonising him for the moment.

"Explain to me exactly why you decided we should set sail without setting the log pose," Law demanded, wishing he had the strength to sit up. He watched Shachi take a deep breath, and then another, clearly calming himself down before he said something they'd both regret. The fact that Penguin had apparently not argued implied that the reason had been genuine, but Law required details.

"It was too dangerous to remain on that island that long," Shachi eventually ground out, having the grace to at least look Law in the eyes – or as best he could tell, with the shades in the way. "If it were only hours, I might have risked it, but five days was too long."

"Why?" There was little that would scare Shachi enough to make a call like that at the crew's current strength. The Marines on the island had been difficult to handle only due to the numerical advantage they'd held, not because they were particularly strong. What else had revealed itself after Law had collapsed?

"One survivor," Shachi told him. "One witness. That's all it would have taken to bring more Marines to us, or even a rival pirate group." Law frowned, but Shachi cut him off before he could express his annoyance that they'd fled for such a cowardly reason. "Our captain just outright fainted in full view of anyone that might have been watching!" Shachi was getting heated again, but as long as he stayed on topic Law would allow it for the moment. "What sort of message does that send out, huh? That we're weakened, easy prey! Every single Marine unit, rival pirate crew and bounty hunter in the area would have been nuts not to jump on that opportunity! We can handle one or two enemies at once, but not everyone in this area of the Grand Line. This isn't North Blue anymore, Captain! They call this the Pirates' Graveyard for a reason!"

Law begrudgingly admitted that Shachi was right, but the ginger wasn't done with his rant.

"What happened to the subterfuge we used to be so good at?" he demanded. "What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves? Making a name for yourself is all well and good-" Law knew Shachi was actually proud of the fact his captain had a decent bounty, when he wasn't wound up and ranting "-but not when you push it too far! You put us all in danger with that stupid stunt of yours!"

Law winced at Shachi's final sentence. He had no doubt it was specifically crafted to hit him where it hurt – Law's crew were everything to him and Shachi knew that – but that didn't mean it was any less effective.

"Don't you dare do that again," Shachi growled, his voice fading back to its normal volume, before turning half away from Law, nudging his shades up with his arm as he swiped at his eyes. The fabric came away damp and Law froze, the missing piece to the puzzle finally sliding into place.

"Shachi…" he murmured.

"My shades slipped," the ginger mumbled, fussing with them. Law didn't buy it, but chose not to call him out on the lie, too stunned at the revelation that should have been obvious.

Shachi had been worried about him. The whole crew had been. They'd set sail, deliberately not following a log pose path, to protect him while he recovered. They'd encounter less ships on this route, and anyone that might have thought to pursue them if word did get out that he'd fainted wouldn't be able to follow them easily.

"Come here," he ordered, gesturing for Shachi to move closer to him, within arm reach. He was instantly obeyed, and Law forced one hand up, resting the fingertips lightly on his cheek. "Close your eyes and take off the shades." Again he was obeyed, and Law was struck by just how much Shachi trusted him as he carefully swiped away the beads of tears that had been forming in a rare show of affection. "You should be more careful," he scolded lightly, letting Shachi hold up the pretence that the tears were from light exposure and not overflowing emotions.

"I'll try," Shachi replied, a weak grin gracing his face as Law let his arm fall back to his side, permitting the ginger to replace his shades.

"Good," Law said. "And Shachi?"

"Hmm?" the older man hummed, looking at him questioningly. The dark aura had lessened significantly during their talk, to Law's relief.

"I'm sorry."

Shachi grinned properly, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Law tightly.

"Don't do it again," he scolded lightly. Law didn't bother replying to that, smiling into damp ginger hair.

"One last thing," he said after several minutes, as Shachi finally began to pull back. "I want you to apologise to the crew. You were angry at me, don't take it out on them." Shachi bit his lip and tugged the peak of his cap down, casting his face firmly in shadow again.

"I wasn't angry at you," he mumbled. "Not really." Law lifted an eyebrow, clearly recalling the way the ginger had ranted at him. "I was angry at myself. I didn't notice at all! I was just blindly sorting out the loot on the boat while you were getting weaker and weaker. The new guy had to point it out to me. We've been nakama for so long… but I couldn't even see that."

There were tears rolling down Shachi's cheeks again, but this time he made no move to wipe them away as he reached out and undid the cuffs with a quiet clink, startling Law. He'd expected them to stay on until he was fit enough to get out of bed at the very least.

"Don't use your fruit for a while, yeah?" Shachi said, heading for the door. "I'll be back soon. Got some nakama to apologise to."

Law watched him leave, for once the idea of using his abilities to end his misery faster unappealing to him. He'd used them too much already, and Shachi would blame himself for leaving him unsupervised without the cuffs if he exhausted himself again.

Law had had quite enough of Shachi blaming himself for one day.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #heart pirates #tales from the heart #tsari writes fanfiction #trafalgar law #shachi

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vvivacious101 · 4 years

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Re-rewatching S04E07 - It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

This episode is okay, the main plot is definitely not very intriguing, some one’s trying to raise Samhain, Sam and Dean can’t stop it but Sam exorcises Samhain before things get really bad. So, that’s that.

The sub-plots though are much more better. Let’s talk about the fact that this is the first time Sam meets angels, Cas and Uriel to be specific and he basically goes from being a fanboy to being utterly dis-illusioned in a matter of minutes. I feel like I missed just how significant this moment is for Sam. A major reason that he decides to stop using his abilities back in Metamorphosis is because in the very beginning of that episode Dean tells Sam that the angels didn’t want him to and that meant something to him. Like you can tell Sam is perturbed by the relaisation that this isn’t what angels and by proxy God want him do. So he stops.

Then he meets the angels and you know what they say about meeting your heroes. Sam is so disillusioned after his very first meeting with angels is them trying to decimate an entire town with a thousand people. Yeah, that is sure to pull the blinders off pretty quickly and that’s it for Sam. He goes from having faith in the other side to realising that the other side isn’t so great and therefore, maybe he should do things his way. Because moments after this confrontation he tells Dean that stopping Samhain may take more than the usual weapons which Dean quickly counters with a line that is basically the angels don’t want you to and at this point we know what Sam thinks of them. So the whole argument falls flat and this is basically going to be Sam’s descent into demon blood (even though we don’t know it yet).

Uriel is also pretty interesting in this episode. It’s his very first episode but if you know the fact that he is basically working with Hell (which is weird considering that in a way even Heaven’s working with Hell but of course Cas doesn’t know all this when things come to a head “On the Head of a Pin”), you can pick up the fact that he isn’t on Heaven’s side or atleast what both Cas and Uriel have been led to believe is Heaven’s side. It takes Cas a lot of time, I mean not long enough but there is no accounting for love but still, it takes Cas a lot of time and pain to even begin to think about betraying or disobeying and here is Uriel suggesting it in his very first appearance. Of course at this point angels are too new on Supernatural to really be able to pick up on this but it makes sense to why Uriel behaves the way he does. He isn’t on what he thinks Heaven’s side is so he doesn’t really care about Dean or Sam.

God, the only thing I noticed about Dean and Cas in this one was the length of time they hold eyes for which is somthing I didn’t realize I was going to get starved for in season 15. I don’t know if it’s worth reiterating everything that’s going on with Cas, the fact that he has began to express doubts just after meeting one human a handful of times. I mean that’s been done to death and you know what I’m talking about.

EDIT: Well, I just realised something. In the season 3 finale, Lilith tries to do something wherein she sends out this white light except it doesn’t do anything and I really didn’t get what they were trying to do there. Because, fine she can’t use that against Sam, that still doesn’t mean that she can’t do other stuff especially since he is so outnumbered in that particular scenario but of course as it becomes clear in season 4. She needs Sam for another purpose so maybe setting up that ending in season 3 served her purposes, because to me it made no sense otherwise other than a ploy at subterfuge.

But, in this episode, 4x07 we have Samhain do the same thing that Sam calls the “demon ray gun” which doesn’t work on him. So I guess, it really doesn’t work on him but my assessment for the season 3 finale stands because Lilith had a better hand there and she ran to soldidfy her purposes. But now I find myself curious, what is that ray gun supposed to do and have we ever seen it being used against someone who isn’t immune to it like say, Dean?

#supernatural season 4 #its the great pumpkin sam winchester #supernatural #spn #spn 4x07 #dean #sam #cas #uriel #myposts #spn rewatch

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sablelab · 5 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 54

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: In the White Room, Madame Cheung is now in the hands of Madeline and defiantly awaits her fate.

*N.B. Some text alludes to violence in this chapter

THANK YOU to all the lovely people who are reading and liking my story. Much appreciated. As promised Chapter 54 is the first instalment in the White Room xox

Chapters 1 - 53 can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 54 (V)

Madeline closed the White Room door behind her and stopped for a moment. A Mona Lisa smile enigmatically but fleetingly bowed her mouth as she softly began humming. The melodic sound echoed in the stark room bouncing off the walls a strategy she knew would unnerve the stoic figure of Madame Cheung who sat shackled in the centre of the room. Section One’s second-in-command, a specialist in psych analysis, interrogation and pain techniques enjoyed matching wits with the targets and eventually breaking them by any means necessary and now, this woman was her latest victim.

Within Section, Madeline was the primary person responsible for analysing and predicting the behaviour of the enemy and she didn’t flinch at using torture in this capacity. In contrast to Operations, she was calm and methodical; when she wanted to, she could be charming and gracious, but the warm façade could drop in an instant to reveal an arctic iciness. The White Room was her domain and Madeline knew she was going to enjoy this grilling of her latest victim. Her skills were unique and beyond belief but she always got what she sought … eventually and Madame Cheung would reveal what she wanted to know regardless of how long it took.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Known by Section operatives as the “ice queen” and the “high heels of death”, she was a cold-hearted bitch, as calculating and humourless as her partner Operations. She was also unemotional and ruthless. Her cold intelligence coupled with her brilliance as a shrewd strategist, could manipulate everybody without any feeling of remorse or hesitation. Madeline was an outstanding psychological puppet master whose mantra was to get the job done no matter what. The level of emotional and mental cruelty that she inflicted on terrorists boarded on sociopathic but extreme measures were often necessary in her job prescription. Information is what they required at Section One and Madeline merely carried out the Section mandate to its logical conclusion.

The woman however, was an enigma.

Emotionally, she was detached, analytical, and almost shockingly unsentimental. She would literally do anything to further Section One's interests, no matter what the sacrifice, and she expected the same effort from others under her command. If they wouldn't make those sacrifices willingly, she had no compunctions about manipulating or even coercing them to do so. Her recruitment to Section One, her background or her life prior to Section was unknown and the only thing that anyone really knew for sure was that Madeline had been in Section for a long time. Beyond that, people knew very little and that’s how she liked it.

The main thing that was known about her background served to make her even more enigmatic and the few details from her past held clues to the woman she became. When she was just a child, she and her sister Sarah fought over a doll they both wanted but neither was willing to give any ground until Madeline made the deliberate choice to push Sarah down a flight of stairs killing her. “I wanted the doll,” … was her emotionless statement about the incident. This was a clear indication that the accident was indeed malicious and that perhaps it was always in her nature to take what she wanted from others regardless of the consequences. However, that event wasn’t what brought her into Section One. There were rumours that she repeatedly stabbed a lover to death after suffering years of physical and mental abuse which would partially explain her uncanny gift of doing the same thing to others.

Although she could manipulate anyone into revealing their deepest motivations, Madeline herself was the most secretive Section operative of all. What made her tick? No one knew, not even Operations to whom she was so closely allied. Colum from Oversight referred to both of them as Siamese twins because of how the two worked in lockstep. She is always by Operations’ side to help him make vital decisions including who lives and who dies. Dougal Mackenzie could rely on Madeline and her counsel but that didn’t mean he understood her, and that was likely the way she preferred things.

Madeline is the most elusive of the agents at Section One whose power flowed from the perception that the limits of her knowledge and abilities seemed infinite. Always with a secret agenda, her modus operandi involved stepping back, assessing the captives and using her keen insight to pry deeply into their minds. She is cunning and beautiful and deadly and those traits are what make her formidable. In some respects, Section’s second in command is more ruthless than Operations himself, for it is difficult to believe that she had any respect for human life when she appears to think everyone is expendable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone with her thoughts, Madeline quietly observed Madame Cheung strapped into the chair in her foreboding domain before proceeding towards the target. Walking across the cold, unadorned floor her footsteps echoed with each step she took.

With a self-belief that she would do what she had to do in order to extract the information about the Rising Dragons for Section's benefit uppermost on her mind, Madeline approached the lone figure of their latest incarcerated triad member. Now at long last Madame Cheung was her latest victim. From what she had observed so far, she knew that this woman would be interesting to say the least and there would be no holds barred. She’d read Jamie and Claire’s debriefs and had viewed the mission tapes. Therefore, Madeline was well aware of Madame Cheung’s strengths but her forte was finding weaknesses. She left no stone unturned in her pursuit, for it was in so doing that she gained the higher ground, and she had every intention of finding Madame Cheung’s Achilles’ heel.

Although the triad member had proved to be ruthless, little did she know that Section One’s chief strategist was more so. Madame Cheung was in her domain now, and there would be no escape from her fate there. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The target sat manacled in the metal chair lost in her thoughts. Reciting the Rising Dragon’s mantra in her mind in some way gave Madame Cheung comfort and strength.

“Death with Honour” its way of life With motto “Strength by Dare” Once you yield fear nought … but When it seeks you, beware! The Rising Dragon! She had been in this stark room for some time, but how long she did not know. There was little she could do except wait to see what would happen next. It was obviously some kind of interrogation room as it was devoid of colour and furniture. Her hands were shackled and she had little chance of escape although she’d tried to loosen the restraints on her wrists but to no avail. No one had entered since two men had placed her in this chair. So, she had little choice but to play the waiting game ... then she would know where she stood and what, if any options she had. Madame Cheung’s steely resolve was exacerbated, particularly when she relived the duplicity of her protégé Claire Beauchamp. She had been betrayed by Claire and her bitterness at her treachery knew no boundaries. Le Comte St. Germain too had deceived her. They had totally fooled her after having won over her confidence. To think that her uncanny wiles had let her down was unforgivable. She had failed to see their subterfuge ... and at no time had she suspected them of being anything other than who they were pretending to be. They had ingratiated themselves into her world of the Rising Dragons for ulterior motives. She had trusted them but they had betrayed her. Now because of their ruse, she was a captive in this place. She had meant every word uttered to Claire when she’d been captured. Not only would she need to be wary but Le Comte St. Germain... James Fraser ... would also need to be vigilant. When Sun Yee Lok found out about her betrayal at the hands of these individuals, as she knew he would all in good time, then he would seek vengeance as only the triad could ...the triad way. It was her one consolation for her stupidity in being so gullible and being deceived by this slip of a girl who had got under her guard. As another consequence she had lost face ... not only with herself but with her leader. When Sun Yee Lok found out, he would be merciless in his retribution of her, so whatever she was dealt here in this place of incarceration, would be nothing in comparison to what he would do to her if they should meet once more. She was after all part of his trusted inner circle. How had she been fooled so easily? Betraying the triad was reprehensible and because she had been duped this played more heavily on her mind. It was now perfectly clear that other members of the triad had gone before her and had met a similar fate at the hands of these mercenaries. Sun Yee Lok had been most displeased with the death of Tony Wong but his suspicions had led to another rival triad rather than other foul means. The other deaths had not been suspicious, however, knowing the ruthlessness of these people perhaps they were suspicious after all. Now it was she who was on the receiving end ... one that found her in a predicament ... and one that she may have trouble getting out of. What was this place? Who were these people and what were their motives? As her thoughts reverberated in her head Madame Cheung felt a wave of doom course through her body at what her fate might hold. Although she would never show it, she was afraid. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Unable to see when someone entered the room because her back was to the door, Madame Cheung was aware she had company. She listened to the sound of the creaking hinges as the door was pushed wider and wider, then came the closure and the clack of a bolt moving into the locked position. Shackled in the chair, she wondered who had entered. The unwavering gait of light footsteps resonated on the flooring as a woman, most probably, came into the room. Then she heard the humming sound. Her eyes narrowed as an expression of determination crossed her face not dissimilar to that of other Triad members who had been Section One’s guests here in the White Room before. Hearing the footsteps draw nearer, Madame Cheung steeled herself for what may come. However, little did she know, but her fate had already been sealed … a fact she would soon discover. Madeline stopped behind the target and addressed her back. “Hello, Madame Cheung ... Can I get you anything? ... Some water?” The woman’s voice chillingly reverberated in the quietness. Madame Cheung’s body tensed. She opened her eyes slowly and focused on the voice that had spoken to her. Saying nothing in reply she just stared down at the floor in defiance. A wry smile crossed Madeline’s face at her noncompliance. Circling the chair in her usual interrogation manner, her next verbal banter began to increase her advantage over Section One’s victim by destroying the subject's defences. “I've looked at your file. ... You present similarly to our other detainees from the Rising Dragons triad. Bright ... well connected ... very attractive, but ruthless ...” Madeline stopped talking and stood in front of Madame Cheung resolute, determined and unflinching. Brown eyes as cold as steel never left the woman in her sight and watched her straight-faced and emotionless. They missed nothing. They saw everything. Neither woman flinched as steely looks passed between the two women. Two pairs of cold eyes appraised one another as they sized each other up. Although one woman was in control, the other would never admit defeat and she waited to see how things would pan out with the formidable woman dressed so austerely. With bravado and venom Madame Cheung hissed in reply, “The triad will seek vengeance.” Madeline smiled her Machiavellian smile letting the target know in no uncertain terms who indeed had the upper hand. As she studied her opponent too, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she did not like to be bettered on power games. Her greatest talent was her mind, so if Madame Cheung wanted to play mind games with her, she would come off second best.

“Interesting ... but I think not. Tony Wong, Alain de Marillac and Oliver Chan ... have been our guests ... All were members of the Rising Dragons ... All are dead!”

“The triad is much bigger than the individual. It will atone for the deaths of its members,” Madame Cheung retaliated with as much audacity as her inquisitor now realising that her earlier thoughts had been confirmed.

“Perhaps ... then again ... How will it atone for yours Madame Cheung?” A cold, piercing stare angrily held Madeline’s gaze.

Section One’s head strategist scrutinised the hostile watching for any facial movements that would betray that her words had hit a nerve. Bravado by the victim was the first stage of capitulation and Madeline relished the chance to pit her wits against this new adversary. Bit by bit she would wear her down as she always did. Some targets were more obstinate than others but, in the end, there would only be one winner. After she had finished messing with her mind, acting on her fears, Madame Cheung would wish she had never been born. Not only was she the one in control, but the White Room was her domain after all. No one bettered her perception about people and she had Madame Cheung figured out. The woman was a carbon copy of herself. As Section One’s resident torture expert she definitely had the upper hand. Madeline knew exactly which buttons to push, when to push and how to push them to get the required results. Her cold demeanour allowed her to torture people for information without batting so much as an eyelash. Her methods were succinct, purposeful and she got the job done with as little fuss as possible. Given her confidence in the face of adversity, Madame Cheung may prove to be difficult. Madeline, however, relished the thought of matching wits with her for there was nothing she liked better. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Reciting the Rising Dragon’s mantra in her mind had calmed Madame Cheung’s nerves and given her the burst of courage and confidence needed to face her foe. Although she was unable to see her adversary at first, she had known the very moment that her interrogator had stood in front of her. She’d felt her presence while the woman’s words had cut through her with the underlying cynicism of someone who had the upper hand. The humming had obviously been a ruse to unnerve her, but her training in martial arts had prepared her for such tactics. Nothing much fazed her and a little humming certainly hadn’t. As the attractive, brown haired and well-groomed woman approached, she’d observed her more closely and had seen a cold and calculating opponent. Neither of them had flinched when their eyes had met. Madame Cheung had known immediately that this woman, who showed no emotion, was composed, stoic and unflinching, and ... she was used to winning. Unequivocally she’d seen a mirror image of herself. Her bravado was an effort to diffuse the situation and catch the brown-haired woman off guard, but her boldness had backfired. She was a bit taken aback when the woman had mentioned the members of the Triad who they’d thought had met their demise by natural causes. Little did they suspect that Alain de Marillac and Oliver Chan had met with foul play. Sun Yee Lok had blamed their rival triad group the Black Panthers for the death of Tony Wong but now she knew it was indeed these people. What were their motives? Who were they? Perhaps they were some kind of anti-terrorist organisation. Did they want to see the triad implode in order to eliminate the Rising Dragons? Or were they taking down its hierarchy one by one in order to destabilise the triad? Would another less powerful triad better serve their purposes? There were too many questions that she could only hazard a guess at. One fact that was obvious though was that she was at their mercy and had little prospect of finding a way out of her dilemma. She was conscious that any facial movements would be a sign that the woman’s words ... “How will it atone for yours Madame Cheung?” ... had hit a cord with her. However, it had taken all of her willpower not to flinch as the meaning hit home ... Her death! She’d swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat ... So; she was to die at their hands if she refused to cooperate? For a moment she’d been afraid ... not of death, because death didn’t frighten her. She wasn’t afraid to die ... there were always others who would take her place within the triad. She had meant it when she’d said that the triad was bigger than the individual. It may suffer for a while but like the Phoenix it would rise stronger and more defiant in its adversity. Sun Yee Lok was astute enough to work out that there were forces working against it and take affirmative action against the perpetrators. The triad would indeed rise up. These people would do well to take heed and be cautious of its merciless ways for when the triad sought you out there was no escape from the wrath of the Rising Dragons! No ... she was afraid that the rhetoric she’d espoused may be for nought, unless there was a way that Sun Yee Lok would indeed piece together the chain of events that had occurred to the triad over the past months. If there was no escape from this place of incarceration for her and her death was inevitable, how would he know that she too had met her demise by subterfuge and deception? She was afraid of what may come and the pain they would inflict to make her give in, but she hoped that she had the steely reserve to counterbalance whatever they may do to her. The woman in brown had scrutinised her features watching for any sign of capitulation that her words had unnerved her ... but she would not show her any fear. Fear was a weakness that was to be exploited ... a means to an end. If she showed them no fear, then she would in turn unnerve her interrogator.

Madame Cheung wondered what this woman had in store for her, but whatever it was ... she had the resilience to offset it. And so, she waited for one of them to strike the first blow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Madeline moved closer, deliberately moving into Madame Cheung’s space yet watching her surreptitiously. Her next statement to her, however, was cause for alarm and the matter-of-fact way in which Madeline spoke sent chills up and down her spine. Her tone indicated to Madame Cheung that she was indeed a fearsome and cold-blooded opponent. “Trust me ... you do not have the strength to withstand the pain our technology can inflict. The question is simple: will you cooperate now ... or will you force me to modify you?” Madeline watched and saw a slight flinch in the target’s eye at her words, but raising her head even higher in defiance, Madame Cheung said nothing but merely stared her down. “Madame Cheung ... you have a business relationship with a man named Sun Yee Lok.” “So that’s why you got me here? Sun Yee Lok?” She laughed. “Ha! Classic! Sun Yee Lok!” “Yes Sun Yee Lok ... the supreme head of the Rising Dragons’ triad.” “Now why would you want him?” As Madame Cheung’s insolence continued, Madeline decided to shut her up once and for all. Without any warning, she grabbed her by the throat closing off her windpipe. She gasped as the last vestige of air began to escape her lungs leaving her spluttering and choking unable to breathe. Leaning in to the target and with eyes that were merciless Madeline whispered just loudly enough to be heard. “Now listen carefully. We have our reasons for wanting Sun Yee Lok, and you will help us. Usually, I’d extract what I want and you’d be disposed of. You’re a very lucky woman, Madame Cheung.” Madeline released her fingers from her wind pipe so that she could respond. Coughing, Madame Cheung moistened her throat but her eyes showed no other emotion other than contempt. “Oh? How do you figure that?” “You should be dead by now. It would only take one slight movement to your carotid artery and ...” Gasping for breath she managed to say, “In other words, you’ll keep me alive until you get what you want.” Looking Madame Cheung in the eye, while playing her cat and mouse tactics, Madeline replied. “Actually, we know that you are a member of the Rising Dragons and Sun Yee Lok’s inner circle. I have a much better offer for you.” “Oooh. I’m afraid.” “I think there’s an opportunity here for someone with your skill set.” “Really?” “Yes ... seduction techniques are always in demand for luring unsuspecting targets. Don’t you agree Madame Cheung?” “I don’t want to work in your organization.” “I disagree. I think the work here will appeal to you; after all you’re very good at seducing clients. But I digress ... we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First things first.” “What do you want me to do?” “Tell us the whereabouts of Sun Yee Lok.” “Go to hell!” “Very well, if that’s how you feel ... you leave me little choice.” Madeline turned her back to her and smiled inwardly. She had plans for Madame Cheung ... plans that included Henry and Elizabeth, Sections One’s pre-eminent torture technicians. They had yet to pay a visit to her but when they did, she would know it. They were so good at applying that extra little persuasive pressure that was sometimes needed to tip a terrorist over the edge. Madeline knew that Madame Cheung would “enjoy” their little session. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ No sooner had the words had left her mouth than the sound of a door opening filled the eerie silence of this cold white room. Madame Cheung heard two pairs of footsteps in unison approach to where the interrogator stood. Glancing up she noticed a man and a woman carrying what looked like a suitcase each. The be-speckled pair was dressed sombrely in dark suits, but it was their demeanour that unnerved her. She had seen their likes before ... people who specialized in interrogation through the use of torture techniques and who were indifferent to their victim’s pain. This deadly duo had evidently been called to the White Room in order to acquire information from hostiles swiftly and efficiently and Madame Cheung knew that that meant her. Obviously, they had a variety of medical equipment and devices in their cases that would persuade their victim to relinquish information quickly. The Rising Dragons also used such people and Madame Cheung knew what awaited her because of her insubordination to comply. Her fate was now in their hands. “Madeline?” “You know what to do.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie and claire #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie and claire fanfic #covert operations #crossoverAU

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

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Before Episode 39 airs, and josses the heck out of everything here, I want to get this theory out of the way, as to how Sougo could be Oma Zi-O, but not have actually turned evil.

For a while, I was thinking that Oma Zi-O was never Sougo at all, but instead was Another Zi-O.

Then we actually got Another Zi-O.

SO. Here’s some approximately collected data points that show that Oma Zi-O could, in fact, be Another Zi-O and Sougo.

My mostly coherent points are under the cut. As always, let me know what you think. Feel free to add on in reblogs, keep the convo going! (For as long as we can, anyway.)

Fact 1.

A Kamen rider can become an Another Rider. We’ve seen this happen three times thus far. The first was Dan Kuroto, normally Kamen Rider Genm, becoming Another OOO. The second was Rentaro, who is intended to, in the future, become Kamen Rider Shinobi, instead becoming Another Shinobi. Rentaro’s incident adds another point – a Kamen rider can become their own Another Rider, should time travel be involved in the creation of one or the other. The third is Yaguruma, normally Kamen Rider KickHopper, becoming Another Kabuto. In his case, he’s still KickHopper, demonstrating that a rider, even if turned into an Another Rider, can still have access to their original form, assuming that there’s no timeline-erasure interference.

Fact 2.

Power copying is not uncommon in this season. it is, in fact, one of the two main gimmicks – and can be doubled up upon. Firstly, Zi-O himself has one base powerset, that of his standard weapons. (And possibly time manipulation, but that’s not relevant right now.) He can then compliment this with a RideWatch, letting him borrow the powers of a different Kamen Rider. Additionally, this powercopying can, in fact, stack. We first saw this with an Another Rider, who was both Fourze and Faiz simultaneously. The next example of power stacking is when Zi-O uses the Decade RideWatch. It allows him to use Decades version of power copying to upgrade his own, resulting in Zi-O obtaining a version of a rider’s upgraded form.

Another Zi-O took powercopying to a new level, by copying Zi-O’s ability to copy powers. He was able not only to mimic this ability, in a manner more akin to Another Fourze-Faiz, but also to turn other people into prior Another Riders, both via using their AnotherWatches. Another Zi-O can use them on his own, in a manner akin to Sougo, in order to transform himself, or in a manner akin to the time jackers, on other people, in order to transform said people into Another Riders under his command.

Fact 3.

Another Riders can become Kamen Riders. Or, well, this isn’t the entire truth. They are not the Riders themselves, but… If a RideWatch is used on the matching Another Rider, said person transforms from the kaijin form that is inherent to being an Another Rider into the proper form of the Kamen Rider. This was seen with Another Another Agito, who had the newly-formed Agito Ridewatch shoved into him, and proceeded to take the form of Agito himself.

Now, as to how Oma Zi-O could be Another Zi-O...

Point 1.

Firstly, the Another Zi-O watch was destroyed… temporarily. The entire Another Zi-O arc showed that the Another Watches can be recreated from the people who originally hosted them, allowing for Another Zi-O to make use of his matching Rider’s powerset. When his watch was destroyed, it reformed itself, rewinding time. We have yet to see where the Another Zi o watch went after that.

No big deal, just manipulating the flow of time itself…

One of Sougo’s innate psychic powers.

That he has without being transformed.

Point 2.

Another ZiO used his ridewatches a similar method to Zi-O, but not exactly. Sougo has armor themed around the Riders, but Another Zi-O takes their exact form. He does this by holding the Another Watch close to where his belt would be, if he had one, and activating it. This is also, IIRC, how he activates his own transformation into Another Zi-O.

Point 3.

Oma Zio does not insert his RideWatches into his driver the way that Zi-O does. In fact, he doesn't insert them at all. He uses the bezel wheel and button, activates them, and uses the attacks – no form change required. His belt doesn't even appear to have a place to attach ridewatches at all – be they additional ones or his own.

Point 4.

We did not, in fact, actually see Oma Zio transform when we went to 2068. We saw him stand up – we might have heard him say ‘transform’. But we did not see the process. What we did see was a large explosion go up around the ‘civilian’ form of Oma Zi-O, and then he emerged in his Rider Form.

Point 5.

The one shot of Sougo’s alleged ascension to being Oma Zio that we have seen, from when Oma’s Day / The Day of Oma was first described to him by Geiz and Tsukuyomi, also did not show a transformation sequence. Instead, it appeared to show a series of warped rings forming around ‘Sougo’. While this can now be said to look similar to a darker version of the Zi-O II transformation, we didn’t have that at the time, and it seemed more chaotic than the clockwork movements of Zi-O’s transformations.

We have seen Another Riders transform. Said transformation includes clouded, viney, thorny rings circle around the civilian, leaving the Another Rider form in their wake when they dissipate. This applied to Another ZiO, as well, whose ‘vines’, IIRC, looked somewhat more orderly than most Another Riders, although I’d have to check.

Now, as for why Oma Zi-O could be Another Zi-O, and still be Sougo…

Swartz has told the other Time jackers that they are seeking out Another Riders to be candidates for ascending to ‘King of all riders’. However, we’ve seen that he appears to have his candidate chosen, multiple times.

He never gave the Another Riders he selected a choice in the matter, never mentioning the king aspect to them, unlike Heure and Hora.

He acted as though Hiryuu, aka Another Zi-O, was his candidate for a while. As I said when he pulled Another Zi-O away from the Geiz Revive debut fight... “After all, who better to be the king of riders than someone using all of their powers?”

But this was overlooking something. Information we didn’t yet have about the bus accident that tied Hiryuu and Sougo together.

It was caused by Swartz, who did something to Sougo, and led him to believe the entire chaotic incident in the future was a dream… a dream asking – no – telling him to become king.

Swartz has had his candidate all along, and it is Sougo Tokiwa.

So why the subterfuge?

Well, Sougo can’t inherit the powers of all riders if there’s no reason for him to do so. Thus, creating the another riders is necessary, to force Sougo’s hand. But in that case, why would Swartz make an another rider of Zi-O?

Because Another Zi-O inherits even more powers, those of the Another Riders – the dark copies of good men.

Oma Zi-O is a tyrant calling himself beloved. Another riders, those who keep their minds, anyway, always think what they are doing is justified. Their judgement is warped by the another watches and the power.

Now, I definitely can’t say what the deal with this new “uniting Tsukuyomi’s time abilities with Sougo’s” is, but…

If a certain bastard in purple were to take a ridewatch that should have shattered, but didn’t…

If a ridewatch can warp a persons personality just as much as it warps the power it’s duplicating.

If he didn’t give a boy who wants to be a great king a choice in the matter.

A rider with powers over time might have lost enough of himself to become a demon king, and convince himself that he is a beloved overlord.

#kamen rider zi o #getting this out there before Team Den O debunks all of it in one fell swoop #made it with an hour and a half to spare #sailorcressy says #sailorcressy looks way too much into things

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applekitty · 5 years

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i have some general hcs about cs im going to dump them all here (they’re not very exciting in comparison to ‘cs is a demonbeast’ or ‘cs is nightmare’s kid’) but yeah

this is mainly going to be about his species’ society and anatomy (nothing gross)

tl;dr: cs’s society is all about professionalism and capitalism to the point where it’s like fuckin horrible

cs’s species is called ‘corporemlin’, simple fusion of corporate and gremlin together. they have been designed, metatextually, to be the ‘perfect’ worker and represent power hungry white collar workers.

corporemlins are functionally asexual due to the means of reproduction being kissing. neither gender has no fuckparts.

despite this, microaggressions towards women / lgbt still exist. this is due to the way cs’s species is designed on a metatextual level, it’s meant to mimic legitimately toxic office workers, people stoke the flames of the wage gap, and corporations who don’t care about minorities, just minority money

corporemlins are extremely uptight in how they present themselves and their family. it is never casual friday, and there is no such thing as casual clothes.

corporemlins are born with tails and claws, much like a cat, but in order to keep up a professional air, they have these surgically removed when they’re children. they also have paws for feet, but they just wear shoes to cover them up

despite the societal mandate to have these things removed, the government does not participate in removing them for free. there are treatments to have tails and claws removed, but they are expensive. for claws, one can have them yanked out of the fingers entirely (which is preferred but very expensive) or have the tips of fingers cut off, which is usually scoffed at because it is a sign of incapability to get a more professional surgery done, as cut fingers dont look nice

corporemlins have sunglasses that grow out of their heads. at birth, all they have are the lenses, but slowly the frames sprout out of them. they are made out of bone and cannot be removed because they are literally attached to the body. the shape of the sunglasses / what sort of sunglasses they become is a genetic thing

corporemlins have the ability to lock facial muscles in place to become unreadable. a corporemlin can lock a smile on their face and appear friendly, while actually being legitimately furious. this is used mainly to keep up a professional appearance

corporemlins have no tear ducts and cannot cry outside making sobbing noises. though, most corporemlins are numb to sadness because of a general push to keep your emotions inside yourself to keep up the act of professionalism

corporemlins have extremely frail bodies with hollow bones. they also have thin skin which turns into a odd shade of pale when they become teenagers.

this is due to the stigma of going outside or leaving your place of work. also the corporemlin planet has a very thin ozone layer, allowing for the sun to scorch the planet and people much more easily, providing reason never to go outside

corporemlin society is completely devoid of art or ‘imagination’. things like science and business and math overtake all aspects of life, and the idea of creating anything or drawing anything is seen as alien. because of this, corporemlins cannot wrap their heads around the idea of fictional people or things, so all books and things must revolve around real-life concepts

this does not extend to architecture, which would seem impossible without drawing. all buildings, due to the corporemlins lack of imagination, are exactly the same. they are all large, rectangular, grey skyscrapers with no windows, no matter what the actual use of the facility may be

television was an alien invention bought through trade and is used purely for product showcases, not typical commercials. because of a lack of imagination, all product showcases do is.. show a product and say to buy it

jobs outside the business department do exist but they’re treated with general sneering disdain, even if they pay well. corporemlins treat going into well paid but non-ladder climbing jobs (i.e doctoring, dentistry, acupuncture, etc) with the same air as being in a ‘dead end job’

the main goal of corporemlins as a species is not reproduction, it’s the seizing of resources and power. due to this, corporemlins in business positions harsh if ever have children, as to keep their money and their time available for other things. corporemlins who do have children are seen as ‘wasting their time’

corporemlin law states that if a parent decides they do not want a child within the first two years of keeping it, they may kill it

child labor is legalized in corporemlin society, as ‘it allows children to get building a resume at a young age, and allows them to get money’

any and all corporemlin youth who do not get a job straight out of finishing their specific schooling is seen as a failure and a disgrace to their family, essentially ‘proving’ that raising them was a waste of the parents time

corporemlins are naturally anti-social, and do not thrive in a workspace wherein sociability is a key factor. they believe hard work will legitimately get you what you want, and that the smartest and most hard working will naturally be promoted to a position of power

corporemlins do not engage in watercooler talk often, but if they do, it’s usually empty platitudes. should a corporemlin engage in relationship talk around the watercooler, they will be shunned for being so unprofessional as to bring their personal date life to work. this goes the same for if the person in question talks about a spouse or significant other in any capacity, or even keeps a picture of their spouse on their desk

unless said person is someone of authority (i.e a manager), in which case they’ll be respected to their face but talked about behind their back for unprofessional behavior

this is the same for if someone talks about / has pictures of their child, though it will be met with legitimate disgust rather than general disdain

managers and bosses are seen as targets by all those who work under them, as their position is coveted by their workers. workers will do anything in order to obtain a managers position, including subterfuge. this is seen as acceptable and is a perfectly normal way to acquire a position alongside working hard, as it’s seen as working smart

the more smiled upon a corporemlin’s job is and their contribution to society is, the more likely they are to get away with ‘crimes’.

this is completely independent of wealth of a person, though that is a very big factor in corporemlin society (being successful is a huge pinacle) it is dependent sheerly on society’s views on the job.

in the case of csdad and csmom, csdad was a dentist (seen as a dead end job) and csmom was a buisnesswoman. csdad kept csmom down for multiple years to force her to raise a child that she did not want but kept out of empathy. as soon as the child was of age and in a job, she murdered csdad. this was not seen as a crime because he had been ruled as the one to do injustice, keeping a much more useful person down to do something that society doesn’t like while he perpetuated his, while profitable, dead end job.

it goes without saying, but this society has a huge classism problem. most who are born in lower classes stay in lower classes with next to no way out, and are scorned for being such a way

corporemlin society does not contain drugs or alcohol. instead, snack foods and junk foods are treated as though they are substances akin to drugs or alcohol. there are snack addicts, and snacks can break families apart and ruin careers. they are seen as a downward spiral and something that only extremely stressed out, weak people use to cope. snacks are typically looked at with disgust and snack issues propagate still despite many campaigns against them

snacks are widely illegal, though some progressives have made snacks legal in certain parts on the corporemlin planet. there are even snack stores, which were generally completely unthought of in the past

#shitpost #suit and tie #for anyone who comes to this post off the suit and tie tag dont press readmore bc lots of this stuff will be infic

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thelegendofclarke · 5 years

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Castling the King...

Protecting the king is the main goal in any chess strategy, and it should therefore be a focus from the opening sequence. In the beginning of the game, the king is somewhat exposed in the middle of the board. Therefore, measures must be taken to reduce his vulnerability. One of the most popular and most effective opening sequences is referred to as “castling”:

Castling is a move in the game of chess involving a player's king and either of the player's original rooks. It is the only move in chess in which a player moves two pieces in the same move, and it is the only move aside from the knight's move where a piece can be said to "jump over" another. Castling consists of moving the king two squares towards a rook on the player's first rank (the row closest to them) then moving the rook to the square over which the king crossed. (x)

Castling is an important goal in the opening, because it serves two valuable purposes:

it moves the king into a safer position away from the center of the board

it moves the rook to a more active position in the center of the board

A rook can movie horizontally or vertically, through any number of unoccupied squares, and have the potential to control/check entire ranks at one time. Additionally, a rook can potentially land on every square on the board and protect/attack unencumbered stretches on two planes at once; more squares, more ranks, more power. As with captures by other pieces, the rook captures by occupying the square on which the enemy piece sits. The rook’s defensive and attacking power, along with it’s wide range of abilities, is one of the things that makes the rook the second most valuable player on the board...

This is why, when considering the Starks as Players, I see Arya as a rook as opposed to a knight... The knight does have special abilities such as being able to “jump” other pieces and avoid standard capture. However, a knight is only allowed to move 2 squares at a time. This limitation in it’s mobility has a few effects on a knight’s overall value:

at the height of it’s power a knight can only ever attack 8 squares- typically this makes the knight most useful only in close proximity battle situations.

it makes the knight “slow”- due to its movement pattern it can take up to six moves to get from a corner square to a specific square on the other side of the board

it makes if very difficult for knights to “cooperate” with other pieces- i.e. a knight could not specifically work in tandem with a king during the opening or the endgame.

Knights are also subject to other limitations that rooks are not. For example, a knight also has a special condition that if it retreats from one square, it cannot continue to attack or defend the squares it was attacking or defending before its retreat; a rook’s movements and attacking/defending abilities are not encumbered by the same limitation. Essentially, like the knights of Westeros, the knights on a chessboard are powerful only in specific situations. Knights are great, but rooks are have more strategic clout and and more valuable for the endgame.

For me, Arya is far more powerful, capable, and valueable than a standard knight at this point. She has a variety of abilities that make her formidable player: she is quick, and strategic, and disciplined. She excels in sword fighting and other physical combat techniques. She wil be indispensable in the areas of espionage and subterfuge; she literally has the ability to change her appearance and assume another identity. And she has (or at least WILL HAVE) an entire wolf pack following her lead through Nymeria. The powers and abilities of a rook go a long way in making them a valuable player and protecting the king through out the game as well as in the endgame.

The king and the rook, the only two players who can move together in tandem, make an incredibly effective strategic pair...

(*gif by @stark)

#i have not thought about chess this much in F O R E V E R lol #arya stark #house stark #got for ts #got spoilers #got s8 #got trailer #asoiaf for ts #chess #the rook #alys babbles #all the typos in this post are why i am not allowed to make posts on my phone..#TELL ME IF YOU SEE ANY!

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luckyspike · 5 years

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Adventures in America, Ch. 2 - Everyone Hates Airplanes

look i wrote more. also it has a plot. can i get a wahoo.

oh and @copperbadge wrote an amazing fic (titled I’ll Stand on the Ocean Until I Start Sinking) where he posited that demons can’t fly. i don’t claim to be a biblical scholar, but considering how gross Falling sounds and how God apparently sentenced the serpent to crawl on his belly for all eternity (which I can easily extend to include demons, just watch me), i figure i really like that headcanon. i’m gonna run with it. go, babey, go.

Adam left, as promised, on Sunday morning. Wensleydale drove to the airport, and Adam and Pepper sat in the back seat next to each other, hands not-quite touching as they rested on their knees. The four of Them talked, laughed, and, on more than one occasion, Adam and Pepper caught one another’s eye and then hastily looked out of the window, or at their phone, or their knees.

They hugged when Adam got out of the car at Heathrow. He hugged Brian and Wensley too, though, so that was alright. And he made sure he didn’t hug Pepper any longer than those two. He counted the seconds and everything.

She smells nice, he thought, and then he immediately said, “Listen, guys, if I’m going to be in America then you have to make sure Dog doesn’t get in to trouble with my parents. My dad’ll make him sleep in the garden if he doesn’t behave, and he hates that.”

“No problem,” Brian said with a nod, as if accepting a mission from a commanding officer. Which, in a roundabout way, he was.

“And you have to tell me if anything happens at home while I’m away, alright?” he continued, looking to Wensleydale, who was living at home while he attended university*. “Keep me up to date.”

“Of course,” Wensley replied.

“And …” he trailed off, as he looked to Pepper, and then looked over the three of Them, shuffling his feet and re-adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. “You know. Call if you want. I got the international plan so if I’m not busy and I can talk then, uh, we can talk.”

“You better remember to call us too,” Pepper answered, arms crossed. She smiled. “Be safe, Adam. Can’t wait to hear all your stories.”

“I sort of hope you find a tornado, but also sort of don’t,” Brain mused. “Just don’t like, fly away like they did in Twister or whatever.”

Adam nodded solemnly. “Man, I will do my best.” They laughed, the tension breaking a little, and Adam re-adjusted his bag again, taking a step backwards toward the door. “Alright. I better go, find the gate and everything. Oh, and I know Anathema and Newt probably have it handled, but if Aziraphale and Crowley need anything while I’m away, you know, look after them.”

Pepper looked doubtful. “They’re 6000 years old. What are we going to do?”

“Have common sense,” Adam replied, reasonably. “They’re not good at that.” The Them considered it, and in turn they each nodded.

“We’ll handle it,” Wensley assured him.

Adam grinned. “I can always count on you guys. Alright, see you later! Text you when I land!”

He turned, and walked away. He couldn’t see Them, but he knew they were waving as he left. In his guts, something twisted - nerves, definitely nerves - but he walked on, through the sliding doors and into the bright, modern airport, phone in hand. He paused, blue eyes flicking from sign to sign, until he spotted the sign for security. He took a few steps, boots squeaking a little on the floor, but stopped a few yards short of the escalator. He looked around.

He had heard Anathema and Newt and Aziraphale and Crowley talking during the party. He knew they were debating following him. He had almost confronted them, several times over the past week, but he had held off. They hadn’t talked about it more, and the night prior to his departure he’d stopped by Jasmine Cottage to say goodbye to Newt and Anathema, who wished him well and encouraged him to call if he needed anything. He’d even gotten a text from Aziraphale this morning, which read simply, ‘Have fun in America! - A+C’. If they were going to follow him, they certainly weren’t acting like it. And considering the involved parties, any subtlety or subterfuge was so impossible that he found himself thinking that they probably actually hadn’t done it. They were just going to, just, let him go to America.

Well. Fair enough. He was eighteen, after all. And he had some residual, well, powers, he considered. Nothing significant, not anymore, he couldn’t raise the dead or change reality, but he’d be alright. If Heaven or Hell was really going to come after him, they probably would have done it already, right? It had been seven years, after all. And storm chasing wasn’t nearly as dangerous as all that.

Still, he glanced around the lobby, looking for any familiar faces. Just in case. There were none. The nerves twisted again, but outwardly he smiled, and proceeded up the escalator.

Behind a sign about security, two human-shaped beings breathed a gratuitous sigh of relief.

The night before

“I don’t want to go,” Crowley murmured, head in his hands, slouched onto the couch in the backroom of Aziraphale’s bookshop. He had, for the past week, been forcing the issue. They’d argued, an actual argument with shouting and everything, which these days was practically unheard of. And he’d lost, every time, because Aziraphale would always have a good point about infernal or celestial dangers, whether they’d shown any ongoing interest in the boy or not, and Crowley would, at length, give in.

Still, it was worth another try. One last time. “Angel, he’ll be fine, I swear, he’s eighteen, we can’t just - just babysit him for the rest of his life.”

“Why not?” Aziraphale looked to Crowley over the top of his book, the lines of his face settling into a resigned expression of ‘here-we-go-again’. “Are you expecting he will outlive you?”

“No. But …” But he needs to be normal, Crowley thought, without saying it. The more we meddle, the bigger the target on him is. We need to let him be normal. Maybe if we just leave him alone, they will too. Another thought, a few layers down, whispered, The angel is right - he isn’t normal. His powers haven’t entirely gone, even now. “I mean, he’s got to be a bit independent, doesn’t he?”

“Which is why we’ll be guarding from afar.” Aziraphale replied, prim, turning a page with care. “No interference unless he’s in danger.” He sighed. “I really am having a hard time understanding why you’re so opposed to traveling, Crowley. I don’t like it either, but it’s for Adam’s sake and if you’re right, and nothing does happen, then what’s the worst we’ve done? Had a nice holiday?” Crowley looked sour. “Don’t make that face. Are you still angry you won’t have the Bentley?”

“No,” Crowley lied. Sort of lied, anyway. He was angry he wouldn’t have the Bentley - Aziraphale had made a point about Adam’s ability to sense miracles, and how recognizable an antique Bentley was besides - but it wasn’t all bad. They’d dropped it off at Jasmine Cottage that morning, tucking it away in the garage, and Crowley had watched as Newt walked around the old car and, hesitating, murmured something about taking good care of it. His expression when the lights flickered on and the car positively growled were almost worth it. Almost. He sighed. “Just don’t understand why you can’t fly over there if he needs you. Seems kind of excessive, following him around.”

“It’ll be better if we’re close, just to keep an eye out. Because it’s at least an 8-hour flight, and then there’s the travel time to get where he is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Crowley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what I meant.” There was silence, and he looked up, catching Aziraphale’s eye.

“Because if Adam’s in trouble,” Aziraphale said, quietly, “I’d rather you be there as well, Crowley.” You can’t fly, he doesn’t say outwardly, although he might as well have. You can’t fly and I won’t go without you. “What if it’s a demon? With hellfire?”

“Point taken, but not sure what good I’ll do,” Crowley grumbled, and moved on. No sense dwelling, he thought, on the past. Not right now, anyway. “My main weapon at the end of the world was a tire iron, remember? Least you have a flaming sword.”

“Had.” Aziraphale smiled at him. “You did stop time, dear.” Crowley shrugged in an attempt to act like it was nothing, no big deal, just simple timestream manipulation. Internally, however, he felt the warm glow of pride. “That’s not something just anybody can do, Crowley! It was very impressive.”

“Eh, yeah. Ngh.” He looked into his wine glass - empty - and debated refilling it. Instead, he set it aside. “Probably not going to get much chance to sleep over the next few months.” He stood, and stretched. “Think I might grab a few hours tonight.”

Aziraphale looked up, surprised, and then he shrugged. He didn’t sleep, not ever, not even after the Nahpocalypse**, but Crowley did, with gusto. “Reasonable. Should I wake you in the morning? The brochure said to arrive at least two hours before your flight, so that would be -” He stopped, because Crowley was walking away, waving his hands.

“Whatever works, angel. See you in the morning.” He heard Aziraphale say something like goodnight, but it was muffled by the stairwell, and the sounds of his boots on the steps to the flat above the shop. He made sure to walk around upstairs a little - let Aziraphale think he was really settling in - before he pulled the door to the bedroom shut (it squeaked quite satisfactorily across the floorboards) and stopped. And breathed in.

His wings fluttered out with a soft susurrus, and he breathed out, relieved. Ruined by the Fall or not, letting his wings out was always a nice feeling, like taking off a tight pair of shoes at the end of the day. The left one - the good one, and the sinister one - flexed and flapped a few times, glossy feathers catching the air in spite of the missing ones, and causing the lampshade to rattle a little. The right wing creaked, and Crowley winced, stretching as much as the scar tissue and limited range of the ruined joints would allow. The feathers - more sparse even, on that side, than the left but no less glossy, he (and eventually Aziraphale, too) had seen to that - fluttered weakly with the motion of it. He sighed, and idly picked at one of the coverts which was coming loose. For ages - centuries - he’d fought tooth-and-nail against removing any of the feathers left to him, out of some deep-seated fear that they would never grow back. He’d already lost flight, just like all the other demons, grounded and doomed to crawl for eternity, but he still had his wings. Still had some feathers. Other demons weren’t as lucky - Hastur had one mangled stump and the other wing was half-gone, with only a few marginal coverts that stubbornly refused to burn away. Crowley didn’t want to lose his. He’d always rather liked them, functional or no.

Of course, the feathers did grow back where they could, where there weren’t any scars. It only took him three hundred years to realize it - he’d tried flight again at that time, too, but couldn’t get the lift and didn’t have the range on the right to do much besides spin himself around and create an impressive dust-up. It took rather longer than a few centuries - much longer - to find someone he trusted enough to help him clean the bloody things up properly so they didn’t itch like Hell when he did let them out. He still couldn’t fly, but at least they looked good.

If you have to go, go with style, he’d said, once, while the world was burning around him. He flicked the shed covert away and flapped again, enjoying the stretch of it all, the shine of the light off the black. Not that he was planning on going, at least not in the permanent sense, he considered. He was definitely going to America, though, Aziraphale had made that expressly clear, and he was dam - blessed if he wasn’t going to look better than any cut-rate demon they might meet over there.

He miracled his clothes off with a snap and stretched one more time, wings and all, before he collapsed, face-first, onto the tartan-print comforter, and passed out. He didn’t move when he slept, didn’t stir, even hours later when Aziraphale leaned in to the room to check and smiled at him, a mess of feathers and awful tartan blanket. He looked dead, but it was easy enough to sense the energy - infernal but comforting anyway - and the angel returned to the shop, and his book and his tea. He’d have to wake the demon up in a few hours, which was its own unique challenge that Aziraphale had finally got the hang of a year or two ago, but for now, there was the comforting routine of reading and tea, while his suitcase sat by the door and looked expectant.

British Airways, Flight 191

He’d bought a ticket in economy, because he was eighteen and a university student, and it hadn’t seemed so bad. Three hours in, however, and he was re-thinking that decision. The upgrade would have been, what, another two or three hundred pounds***? He could have picked up a few extra shifts at the shop, maybe done some yardwork for people around the village and made that up, easy. He shifted in the seat, uncomfortable and stiff, and glanced across the other passengers to his right, out the window to the endless blue expanse.

He’d been excited for this flight, a few hours ago. Traveling to America, chasing tornadoes, maybe spending an extra week or two to see some sights - it was the stuff he’d dreamed about as a kid^. Ninety minutes in to a fairly routine flight, though, and the novelty had worn off. Flying was boring, and you could only stare at the endless sky and the sea for so long before you started wondering what else you could do to entertain yourself. I should have kept with crochet, he thought idly, as he watched the woman across the aisle knit happily, not a sign of being bored. Or that Pep was here. Or Brian or Wensley, he added, as an afterthought.

He sat back in the seat, as much as it would allow, and pulled out a book. Aziraphale had given it to him, ages ago, and he’d read it once already, but it was a favorite. He had picked it up from time-to-time through the years, but never fully re-read it. Well, he thought, flipping open to the title page, no time like the present. It was relatively new for an Aziraphale recommendation - published in this millennium - and the angel apparently hadn’t thought much of penning a neat ‘Thought you’d like this’ in a blank space there. Adam smiled, and started to read.

Two entire airline sections away, two supernatural entities were having similar ruminations about air travel, albeit they had the good fortune of doing so together. “This isn’t too bad,” Aziraphale said to Crowley, who was laid back in the first-class seat and watching Golden Girls reruns with a glass of wine. He didn’t have headphones on. He didn’t need them - not by some miracle, but because he’d seen this episode enough times to have the dialogue fairly well-down. The angel shifted in his seat slightly and crossed his legs. “Not as comfortable as my shop but -”

“Not bad for a metal tube hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour?” Crowley suggested. “This is loads better than last time I flew anywhere.” He took a sip of wine.

“When was that?”

“1914.”

“Oh. Yes, I’d imagine it is, rather.”

“More security, though. Way more security.”

“Yes, I wasn’t expecting that. I knew things were more secure now, you know, heard it on the news, but taking shoes and belts and all that off?” He shook his head. “You’d think with the body scanners it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Well, you know. One guy hides a bomb in his shoe and there you go,” answered Crowley, who had performed a minor miracle through the security line to convince the agents that his shoes were just fine on, thank you very much. “Lucky they let you keep your pants.”

Aziraphale looked down. “What’s wrong with my pants?”

Crowley opened his mouth, and then thought better of it. “Never mind.” He took a sip of wine. “How’s he doing back there?”

Aziraphale paused in his reading, finger hovering over the page. “Bored,” he answered, at length. “Bored, but … fairly happy.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows and studied his empty wineglass briefly, before motioning to the flight attendant for a refill. “Nothing spooky?” This, said with a distinct air of amusement.

“Nothing spooky. The plane is still full of perfectly ordinary people. And Adam. And us.”

“Tickety-boo,” Crowley drawled, watching the flight attendant refill the glass. “Thanks, love.” He gulped another mouthful of wine, and pulled headphones out of, apparently, his jacket but realistically, nowhere. “I’m going to get drunk.”

“Really?” Aziraphale looked surprised, blue eyes slightly widened and his mouth curved down at the corners into a frown. “They’ll be serving food in an hour.” He raised his eyebrows. “There’s ice cream.”

Crowley reclined further, and plugged the headphones in. “Enjoy it. I’ll sober up before we land, don’t worry.”

Aziraphale nodded, and glanced to the TV Crowley was watching. Golden Girls disappeared as he poked at the remote, and the movie selection came up. He flipped through the titles too fast for Aziraphale to see the offerings clearly, but when he settled on one the angel scowled, while the demon smirked. “Really, Crowley?”

He clicked ‘play’ on the title screen for Snakes on a Plane. “I always wanted to watch this. What better time?” He laughed a little, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and went back to his book.

* He was working toward earning his degree in accounting. He very much enjoyed his classes.

** Crowley had slept for three full weeks. Aziraphale, to his credit, had only shaken him awake once, just to make sure he hadn’t died. The hissing he’d got in response was answer enough, and since then he’d adjusted fairly well to Crowley’s little sleeping habit.

*** Adam was a bright boy, certainly, but he hadn’t flown before, and the disparities in airline seating pricing still escaped him.

^ Although, it should be noted, not at a very crucial time in his childhood, or this may not have been his first American excursion.

Now with Chapter 3!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #adam young #the one where they go to america

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ppeacherine · 5 years

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Fairs and Fairs (Suzaku, Rolo [CG])

I wrote 5k words on on a rarepair from a show I haven’t watched in literal years.

I’m so good LMAO. Mostly a rolo-perspective third person because I feel more comfortable writing him versus writing Suzaku, oof.

“I don’t think you trust me, Lord Kururugi,” Rolo says coyly, narrowing his eyes and leaning back against the make-shift counter of fold-up tables for the carnival tent. A reckless use of his Geass for certain, but Suzaku nearly jumping out of his skin in surprise was worth the risk of reprimand. It wasn’t like he hadn’t used it for worse— “Coming to campus like this…”

“R-Rolo! Damnit, don’t—” Blinking quickly, he snatches a napkin from the table and covers his over-full mouth of funnel-cake samples. Knight of Seven dies by cake while in disguise, god, he turns on heel to glance about the fairgrounds… but, as expected, no one has noticed they lost any time at all.

The tent staff are just as confused at Rolo’s sudden appearance, but he’d played the part of mouse for so long they’d assume he was already there. It wasn’t like he stood out in a crowd anyways, or that people were prone to noticing him for being anything that wasn’t being Lelouch’s younger brother… which, the thought brings Suzaku’s brows down.

“Shouldn’t you be with… Lelouch…?”

“He’s back at the apartment,” a nonchalant answer with an equally nonchalant shrug that puts a frown to Suzaku’s face, “So I thought I would… ah, hmm, make an appearance for student council?” Rolo’s tone is too sweet, his eyes too big, and he slinks past the Knight of Seven as if his being here were the most innocuous thing in the world.

Turning to reluctantly follow after the younger man, Suzaku calls after, “Doing what? You’re supposed to keep him under surveillance–this isn’t really--”

“He’s puking, probably,” he must have sensed Suzaku’s eyes bug, and he casts a flat look over his shoulder in response while ferreting them through the crowd, “He has the flu. He’s not in danger. I gave him medicine. I’ve already taken care of everything, including scheduling an appointment for him to get a shot next season,” he recites it like a laundry list, obviously tired of playing keeper.

For a moment, Suzaku almost mentions that such a thing was Sayoko’s responsibility, but—that’s hardly the present they live in now, isn’t it? He goes still for a moment, a gaggle of students pushing past his shoulders. Here he was, on the Ashford University campus, and… everything was so wrong.

He was wrong, really, wearing shades and a coat he hadn’t pulled out of his closet since the last outing with Euphie. And now…

“Lord Kururugi, you’ll catch flies,” Rolo offers primly (receiving another grimace).

He takes a few wide strides to close the gap, grasping the smaller man’s bicep to push him through the crowd, “Don’t call me that out here. I’m pretty sure everyone knows Lelouch’s younger brother isn’t really best of friends with the Knight of Seven,”

“Right. That’s Lelouch’s--” Reflexively, Rolo’s hands fly up to catch Suzaku’s as the other reels. The locking of fingers about wrists, a tangle of initiation-versus-counter, pushes them haphazardly through the crowd. Rolo’s been in enough fights to know it isn’t worth resisting someone with this much strength over him, though. He ragdolls.

A girl snaps watch it, and the darling Knight of Rounds gives her an immediate apology—

Before slamming Rolo against the brick wall of one of the craft sheds. Now, they’re parallel to the crowd. Festival goers pour through the cobbled, blossom-laden main street to their left, the tents forming a makeshift alley about the shed that ensures their spat-slash-rendezvous remains unseen from the student gawking.

The Britannian gives a small wince before levelling his gaze up at the other. Unflinching, really, and it reminds Suzaku of the way his officers used to look at him as a recruit. The way the captured Black Knights turned their eyes at him, full of scorn and betrayal.

“Your mouth is new, Rolo,” Suzaku’s lips part one more time, only to purse tightly as he relaxes his grip on Rolo’s blazer.

Although his hands are unable to move away entirely. They’ve been pinned underneath Rolo’s own, and he only cocks his head to the side, as if this were a natural arrangement. This is the way one was meant to talk to their superior officers.

At this proximity, Suzaku wonders if Rolo has ever worn an expression that didn’t look like a wounded animal attempting to hide its injuries. Everything about him is soft, and maybe those eyes are just wide enough, empty as they appear under duress, to uncomfortably remind him of Euphemia’s.

“…Let go of me. Please.”

There’s no backtalk (pleasant surprise). Rolo releases his grip and quietly fixes his jacket. He’s unperturbed by the violent turn, and it leaves Suzaku wondering what in god’s name made him that way.

(not that he has to reach too far to guess)

“Your temper is new, Suzaku.”

Maybe if they weren’t who they were, maybe if it wasn’t now, the retort would be funny. It would be bitter banter between friends that look like not-quite friends to the uninitiated. The sort of attitude Lelouch gave Milly at her reckless behavior as student body president (and at her attempts to wrangle him and Shirley together before senior year).

But it wasn’t, and it couldn’t be. He knew coming here was a mistake, during the university’s cherry blossom celebration nonetheless, but nostalgia and melancholy and loneliness brought him here.

And it’s that mixture that keeps Suzaku locked uncomfortably in place. There really wasn’t any salvaging this interaction (and frankly, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. Rolo was strange to put it lightly. At least, Rolo Haliburton was strange. Rolo Lamperouge was a different persona entirely, and it sours his stomach) but...

“I’m… sorry. It’s, the whole thing has me on edge. Lots of people… This wasn’t easy, Rolo,” He takes a step back to clear the air, and still the rise in his pulse.

Rolo seems unconcerned with the apology. He’d probably received half a dozen like it in the past, but Suzaku pushes the thought to the back of his mind, “Just, don’t call me anything regarding the Knights of Rounds here. And… I don’t want to—”

“Hear about Lelouch,” Rolo finishes definitively, “Understood.”

A beat, and then his voice lilts in a way that might have Shirley or Milly tripping over themselves at the sheer sugar intake of cuteness, “Ah, Suzaku, are you going to go back to the fair, then? Besides, I’m sure big brother—”

Suzaku drowns out the rest, staring in shock, awe, and more than a touch of horror. Lelouch was good at theatrics and making a show of things – Zero was ample proof of that – changing from one charismatic persona to the next. But this was… this was something else entirely.

Rolo Haliburton was strange, but Rolo Lamperouge might be worse if he keeps this up.

He’s not like that all the time is he?

There’s a nagging curiosity in Rolo that wonders why Suzaku is here as they walk. Part of him believes it’s a matter of trust or disrespect, like he’d mentioned before: that Suzaku didn’t believe some pretty, boyish assassin would be able to maintain a demure enough front to repress Lelouch’s memories of Nunnally and keep an eye out for red flags that said Zero was back. That he saw Rolo as a threat to the mission, or worse, a threat to Lelouch, given Suzaku’s obvious prickly (yet very protective) disposition toward the topic. His ultimate orders were to kill Lelouch if Zero awakened, anyways, so maybe it was to – god forbid – stop him from doing so.

Still, a Knight of Round should be prowling Pendragon, or by now, the battlefields in Europe. A knight that knew about Geass, furthermore, should not be this close to the University. The Emperor (or maybe even V.V.) would have better use for them than this, so Suzaku must be on leave of some kind.

It was completely beyond Rolo. To have the ability to just… stop, let alone do what he saw as essentially shirking duty.

He gives Suzaku a sideways glance, ill-timed since their eyes catch and Suzaku bizarrely turns away with the makings of a blush on his face.

This was another aspect of Suzaku he could not make heads or tails of in their interactions. Certainly, Rolo had been taught to use proximity and emotional plays to lull targets into a false sense of security, but small hiccups in their (few) interactions had led him to believe he didn’t really need to try with Suzaku.

It was like he wanted to believe Rolo wasn’t an assassin. That he was just some melancholy-but-very-sweet university freshman. That Lelouch wasn’t even part of their main reason for meeting, and Rolo hadn’t fished him out of prison in a foreign state.

Maybe Suzaku was just very awkward, and this was his default state of being. Or, maybe he was being too critical of someone who was obviously not meant for more delicate works of subterfuge. Considering his rough reaction to a bit of cheek regarding his old relationships, Suzaku was someone who was led more by their heart than their brain.

There was more there, too. The fact that he apologized for being rightly offended at Rolo’s toying was strange.

“Have you—well. No, that’s probably assumptive-“

He widens his gaze, attempting to cover up that incredibly telling, pursed look he got on his face when analyzing someone too hard, “hmm?”

“I just wanted to know if you’d been to a cherry blossom festival before. Or, any festival… They told me you were from—you know. But they’d never given me any other details.”

A turn of his head signals his confusion at the cautious phrasing, and he pockets both his hands, “No. There’s been a few on campus, and Milly – not Lelouch – has begged me to go,” a heavy sigh before he says more concisely, “I don’t like crowds.”

I don’t like being smothered, as wonderful as the positive attention from Lelouch was. It was fake. It was empty. It didn’t mean anything to or for Rolo.

“…This is your first one? Ever?”

Another shrug, and Suzaku finally forces his knees to unlock from their shock to catch up again, “Wait, come on. Let me get you something. This one is my favorite, anyways, and after earlier…”

He wishes he could say he’s seen enough romantic comedies to know where this is going. At some point there would be a large stuffed animal involved, if he remembers correctly. But he didn’t need Suzaku’s help to win a balloon popping game to acquire a stupidly overfluffed monkey, or lion, or whatever they had in stock at university knock-off fairs. Nor did he have any interest in acquiring them.

But he hasn’t seen enough. At least, he hasn’t seen any that involve knights and their traumatized best friends. Nor did they involve assassins, undercover agents, or other obviously dangerous motifs.

Really, he’d only seen one romantic comedy at Shirley’s insistence, but he can’t regurgitate that information quickly enough to stop Suzaku from pushing them onward. Rolo Lamperouge was bashful, but Rolo Haliburton, at this moment, was tongue-tied into a state of bewilderment.

They’re just flowers. Pink flowers.

They sort of reminded him of Euphemia li Britannia’s hair in the back of his mind as he tries to quickly pull up a mental file on how he’s supposed to respond to such a social cue.

Yes, he looks up at Suzaku as the other maintains a polite sort of bodily-shield to keep them motivating through the crowd of petal-enraptured students as pink twisted through the air like confetti.

Suzaku was someone that was led more by their heart than their brain.

What a shame.

“…Lor—Suzaku. I don’t know how to eat this,” he says numbly, staring at the multicolored, circular treats stuffed on a stick like a pastel aesthetic corndog. An inspective squeeze tells him it’s too sticky for his personal taste, and if he were more considerate as a person he might feel bad for the briefly dejected look on Suzaku’s face.

“It’s just like eating anything else on a stick. You… Just put it in your mouth,” and because he really has to sell it, “it’s sweet, it’s good, and no viewing is complete without hanami dango.”

He refrains from pointing out that this stand – and the bench near it – are the furthest possible things from the row of cherry trees on the main drag. All they’re viewing is other people viewing the blossoms. That, and the crushed, wilted remains of what petals have blown too far away from the road.

“Just putting it in your mouth isn’t advice that should be dispensed… liberally,” Rolo returns plainly, disregarding Suzaku in favor of reaching to peel one of the – no, he raises a hand to prevent Suzaku from once again invading his space (which only slows him momentarily).

“Haha, well, I mean, yes! But, hang on, you picked it up upside down,”

“This is really complicated for a rice ball,”

“Not a rice ball. Rice flour. Pounded. My freshman year here – well, sophomore too – I helped make some,” Suzaku says warmly, finally tucking into his own treat, “Still have all my fingers intact,”

“Piloting would be hard without all of them, yes,” the dango is gummy in his mouth, and a mixture of good manners and self-loathing stops him from spitting it out. It’s not overly sweet, but it’s not bland either. He can’t place it, exactly, and the proper way of eating it reminded him of the tanghulu he’d gotten on the streets during missions in China.

He ate that the wrong way too, in hindsight—carefully picking it apart to put the pieces in his mouth.

By the time Rolo is on the final one, despite still trying to pinpoint exactly what flavor it is, he’s decided he likes them.

Suzaku gets them two more, looking considerably more delighted with Rolo’s company.

“Did the swim club get stuck doing something… awful again?” Suzaku asks, tilting this way and that to better peer into the tents. He hadn’t seen any glimpse of what was arguably the most popular club on campus (he’s sure there’s only one reason for that, and unfortunately it wasn’t because of Shirley’s phenomenal butterfly stroke). Ordinarily they’d be on the center stage, but it’s weirdly empty. That sinking feeling hits his stomach again.

“Mm? No, they’re… Managing one of the game tents,” Rolo gestures in some general direction, grabbing Suzaku before he can wander too close, “You can’t be seen here. Not by them.”

Right… Well, there had to be something they could do other than eat. Not that the food was bad (as bad as it was for their stomachs), but an Ashford University fair wasn’t complete without a nightmarish free-for-all of a game. Maybe Milly had finally toned it down some? He smiles at the thought, glancing away and—

Rolo knows what he’s spotted before his mouth opens.

Damn you, Shirley.

“Oh! Over here,” not that Suzaku is waiting for Rolo to follow after him, “That’s cute, they even have stuffed mascots.”

The stand is simultaneously identical to those around it, and yet very different. The colors are a typical mint green and pastel pink (how they afforded to color coordinate an entire festival is beyond Rolo. He assumes the alumni must be beyond loaded), a few streamers hanging down over the “counter” that was placed in front of a board of similarly colored balloons.

He knows where this is going. It doesn’t need to go there.

Right when he gets ready to activate his Geass, one of the Student Activities Council members throws their arm around his shoulder and disrupts the whole process. “Rolo! You actually made it for once, that’s—guys this is a miracle, look at him,” they pull away, doing some overly dramatic gesture that for some stupid reason requires them to do what Rolo can only describe as an upside-down dab.

“Oh! And who’s hiding behind those glasses, huh?” Mia asks, running fingers through lavender hair before turning her sly squint to Rolo, “boyfriend?”

God. He can’t believe Suzaku is laughing at this. He also can’t believe his face hasn’t somehow turned inside out with the sheer amount of concentrated sourpuss contained within. He’s only rescued by the third tent attendant – this one he doesn’t recognize from any particular club – “If it Is, let’s not terrorize him too badly. That’s just mean.”

“Y… Yes. How—how well have you been doing?”

“Aw, come on. You don’t ask about the bottom line during the festival, council-boy,” Mia sets her hands on her hips in a mock-haughty fashion, “But! If you really gotta know, it’s been slow.”

“Nobody here has enough hand-to-eye coordination to win one of the big prizes. But hey! Free stuffed animals for us,” the SAC member makes pistol fingers, just as Suzaku opens his mouth despite Rolo’s efforts to will him not to.

“That bad? I think I might be able to take a few off your hands,” Anya or Gino might like one, at least. The mascot of the university was… strange – some sort of lion-mermaid that didn’t have any official name as much as the entire student body called it “The Cryptid.” Supposedly, it was from Milly’s coat of arms, but it was just as likely she’d picked the first unsettling mythological creature she’d saw on Google.

He missed it here.

It’s a dart game, and once the two men are situated side by side to compete (with the trio of tent runners watching in eager anticipation) Suzaku tries to make small talk.

“Could you clean this place out?”

“Absolutely. It’s… It’s not hard,” Rolo glances at the other students, torn between which persona he’s supposed to be using. A loud pop takes him out of his thoughts, and with a grimace he reluctantly joins in the turn-taking, “You only have to aim, inhale—exhale, throw.”

“Oof, remind me not to cross him,” and Suzaku smiles at the spectating words as much as he frowns on the inside. Every time he began to believe he was just a guest on the campus, that they were all just regular students, he remembers reality. They’re all stuck in a dream-like haze where their memories have been permanently altered, and his hand falls from its ready position.

Even he wasn’t free from the vice-grip of Geass, deep down. Try as he might to resist it. Try as Euphie might—

By the time he’s left autopilot, Rolo is holding a stuffed creature only a mother could love and regarding him with what isn’t quite contempt – but what definitely isn’t fondness. “You missed the last three.”

“I did? How—” he could take a running leap at someone and kick them head on, but he couldn’t throw darts without concentrating?

“Don’t worry about it! You still get… goodies!” Mia’s enthusiastic voice cuts in, presenting Suzaku with a hand-woven bracelet adorned with an Ashford University crest charm, “not as good goodies, but, you get goodies.”

The skin on his palm crawls while he looks down at the small accessory placed into his hand. He needed to get rid of this before—

“Ah, Mia, he’s,” Rolo huffs, “don’t tease him too badly. He’s my guest, after all. But—oh, Milly needed me for something, I just remembered. I’m, I’m really sorry, you guys,” He looks so sad at having to leave for his made-up appointment while gently ushering Suzaku away.

Once they’re out of sight and earshot, Suzaku asks to exchange gifts. By now, he’s decided that Gino would definitely prefer the stuffed animal over Anya. It’s what he focuses on to keep his thoughts straight. Rolo seems indifferent to the exchange.

At least until Suzaku gently ties the bracelet around his wrist with a beaming smile and a thank-you.

“So they… Really don’t notice any difference…?” Suzaku asks hesitantly, patting the stuffed mascot situated on the bench between the two of them on the head. To have replaced someone to one person is simple, but to replace someone to an entire campus? That was harrowing, and it made his blood run cold to think the power of Geass was immense enough to drown the memory of so many individuals.

(Not that he could be so surprised. Euphemia had committed unspeakable horrors against that same power.)

The gazebo is quiet, and most of the students have headed back to the dormitories or campus apartments for the evening. The grove here was oak and maple, the architecture a redux of the Britannian capital. For a moment, Suzaku is so displaced with the chilled feeling he almost believes he’s back at the gardens in Pendragon, and Rolo’s quiet voice pushes him out of his stupor and puts his mind solidly back into his body.

Rolo doesn’t think Suzaku wants the answer, worrying his index and thumb nails together.

“No, they don’t. If I don’t act out of character for their perception of Nunnally, they don’t notice. There are no emotions to trigger for most of them. Lelouch…” he pauses, reading Suzaku’s expression before he continues, “… You saw what happened with Julius Kingsley. No Geass is infallible. If I were to act too uncanny, then Lelouch’s subconscious would rebel,”

“He would remember Nunnally. Would he remember everything else?”

Ripping away Lelouch’s sister, relocating her to the relatively safe hand of the emperor… that was removing Lelouch’s motivation to become Zero. But wouldn’t that be enough? He has to wonder where the desire to be Zero ended, and where it began. If it was all for Nunnally, then wouldn’t it repeat with Rolo?

But then, he supposes Rolo Lamperouge doesn’t want distant dreams like peace or harmony for that reason. He wonders if Rolo Haliburton would either.

“Mm. The Geass would come undone entirely,” Rolo says simply, continuing to pick at his nails.

They sit in a more comfortable silence than the last, at least until Suzaku offers Rolo his coat against the encroaching night air. Spring here wasn’t terribly warm, and the nights were worth putting at least a light coat on. The breeze had cooled considerably during sunset, and Suzaku tells himself he’s being polite against further uncomfortable recollections of his last serendipitous encounter with someone.

“…How old are you?”

God, why did he say that?

Suzaku sputters for a few seconds, trying to repair what he perceives as damage (and what Rolo perceives as nothing) as he fixes his blazer, “I mean, you don’t look older than Nunnally and she was a year ahead because of her test scores. So, a Freshman in college when she was just a senior in high school-“

“I didn’t go to school.”

“Ah… I, I’m sorry--? No. I am sorry,” he reaffirms, expression steeling to better fit the symbol he was to the populace. The Empire used everything, and it spared nothing and no one, and… He knew that. He knew that when he had to put Lelouch on his knees before the emperor – twice – but he’d never really encountered what happened when the hand of Britannia (the hand of Geass) was all someone knew.

But he knows it’s wasted, and Rolo doesn’t care anyways. He doesn’t know why he continues, then. It’s desperation, something that might want validation or miserable company. The same parts of him that chastise his every past action and failure, and the same parts that drive him to crave revenge as much as he is disgusted with his being for wanting it so badly.

It’s an admission, one he hasn’t heard himself say for a year.

“I… wanted to change that. When I became a knight – when I joined the military. To change the way things are, and the way they would be,” he folds his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees and denying Rolo any glimpse of his face to make out his intentions, “I don’t think it takes extremes to make the world better. I think benevolence is stronger than Zero – than Lelouch – thinks.”

He swore Rolo had used his Geass to escape, the silence after his confession was so thunderous and overwhelming. He’s ashamed that he’d vilify himself out loud like it would change anything he’d done. Why now, of all times, was he so overcome?

His hands rake through his hair, cradling his head from his bent over position.

“I didn’t want to do it just for one person, not like Lelouch, but when I finally met someone I could change it for, to change it with, I—”

A light hand on his shoulder stops him, and his frazzled state has him afraid to look up at Rolo because he knows there’s tears and he knows it’s all about Euphie, the massacre, the betrayal, everything.

But he does. He turns his green-eyed gaze to Rolo’s cold silence. He flinches as the hand leaves his shoulder, only for fingertips to lightly graze the firm line of his jaw, a thumb to gently stroke over the hollow in his cheek. Instinct tells him to lean into the touch (that’s what he’d do with Euphie, and this is wrong) but he refrains out of shock.

Rolo knew something about proximity and lulling people into a false sense of security – it wouldn’t be a violation of the mission to prevent his superior from having some sort of neurotic, trauma-induced come apart. That wouldn’t do, especially not on the campus. It would jeopardize everything, and Rolo has never failed a mission.

Suzaku can’t do anything except wait with his heart in this throat. He’d admitted to the Emperor what his motivations were, what drove him. An accusation of treason didn’t scare him.

It was the idea of being rejected on a base, empathetic level. His left hand shakily wraps around Rolo’s wrist, now trapping them both in a moment that seemed to stretch indefinitely.

Rolo doesn’t know what Suzaku wants to hear, not exactly. He could make a damn good guess, but what someone’s heart truly desired was lost on him. He doesn’t know the nuances of empathy, or consideration. They were all ripped from him while he was young.

“…I’m sorry.”

To Lelouch. To Euphemia. To Nunnally, it’s for them, Rolo thinks, and he looses his hand just enough from the grip to brush away the one tear that had escaped. His mind is still sifting through words, trying to puzzle together the right things to say—

“I’m so, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want… None of this was supposed to be this way,” a pressure on Rolo’s lower back ushers him forward, and he remains still (gentle, demure, calm) as Suzaku’s forehead presses against his abdomen, as his arms wrap around his waist, “I wish she could be here. I wish I could have shown her—”

He considers using his Geass to buy himself time, to escape before this leaps from a recollection to a living memory, but…

“I can’t change anything. I couldn’t change anything,” the growing dampness in the fabric of his blazer tells him Suzaku has given up on damming his feelings, and hesitantly Rolo slips his hands around Suzaku’s shoulders, “We should all be here, together, not… Not like this…”

Rolo doesn’t count the seconds of his moment, as he’s prone to do for his Geass.

He hopes he won’t regret it later.

“Stop sneaking onto campus, Kururugi,” this time, Suzaku is expecting the sudden appearance, and he tilts his chin up with an unbegrudged smile. He pushes his glasses further up his nose, leaning back against the wall of Waterford Hall while students filed by with buzzing excitement to the “dead day” festival – because clearly what students needed on their day off to study for finals was something to distract them from studying for finals. “You’re making this difficult.”

“I was feeling nostalgic. Besides, I had to talk to the dean of admissions,” for once, he’s got the one-up on Rolo… although now that he’s focusing on him in proper, he can tell the younger man is hiding something behind his back.

“You’re coming back?”

“It seemed like… It was something I needed to do. It’s—” He inhales deeply, and briefly, concern flutters across Rolo’s face, “what Euphie would have wanted. And it’s the least I can do for her, right?”

Rolo knows Suzaku doesn’t need his agreeance on this, but he nods his head.

“… A-anyways, before this gets… so did you have something to report? I can meet you later-- or were you just trying to sneak up on me again?” He tries to peer behind Rolo, get a glimpse at whatever he’s playing keep away with, and—

He’s gone.

No, this was not okay – he whirls on heel to his right, where Rolo has somehow (Geass, he internally grumbles) materialized beside him with a skewer in one of his hands, laden with strawberries and a thickly crystallized sugar coating.

“I asked Milly to search around for other street food vendors, and one of them happened to be something I recognized from older missions,” Suzaku plucks the bamboo skewer delicately away, raising an eyebrow, “the Directorate is a secret, obviously,” he situates himself against the wall beside Suzaku, prying off a sugary strawberry and popping it into his mouth, “but I spent a lot of time in Northern China.”

Suzaku has to wonder if that’s Rolo’s way of opening up to him, after… after their last encounter. He twists the skewer, “I see… It’s not poisoned?”

“No,” Rolo gives him a sideways glance, mumbling around the fruit in his mouth before he swallows, “I have nothing to gain, anyways,”

Now, a grin crosses his features, “Any advice?” at least there was something light hearted he could recall from… the last time he’d stopped by here unbidden, and the grin is dissolved by laughter at the response he receives,

“You just put it in your mouth.”

He admonishes Rolo for not warning him that the sugar would break in a fashion that was very likely to cut his mouth.

#momowrites #code geass #suzarolo #suzaku kururugi #rolo lamperouge

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shsl-heck · 3 years

Text

A (Currently) Untitled Custom MTG Set

Okay so, this is my second attempt at typing this all up since tumblr randomly ate the first one, but for the past while I’ve been attempting to create a custom mtg set in a new plane I am tentatively naming Ecumia. This has been an on and off project but I decided to start posting updates here because I think it will be interesting to see my thought process throughout the whole thing, and also because I’m hoping it’ll motivate me to keep going. My basic idea is that it takes place on a plane starved for mana where cities have been modified to become constructs that travel the plane scrounging for what little mana they can find. The rest is going to be below a read me because it’s a long post. It has a summary of the setting, draft archetypes, mechanics and just some random thoughts on where I may go.

First I want to go ahead and go into more detail about the cities. There are five main giant cities, each of them is based on a four color mana combination. They’re all based both literally and ideologically on what color mana they lack just as much as they’re based on the colors they do have. So I guess I’ll go ahead and list them out with some explanations since they’re one of the biggest features of the world. (Sidenote: they’re all meant to be in some way terrible and corrupt.)

Zezuklet is the WUBR aligned city. It positions itself as a meritocracy, to be a prodigy in Zezuklet is the expectation. Everyone works to improve themselves and their skills to serve the city in its never ending quest for expansion and fuel. They cooperate and work together like the cogs in a machine not like people who care coming together. Black and red provide the passion for self improvement no matter the cost, blue provides the forethought and efficiency with which everything is run, and white gives the system it’s strict laws and orderly conduct. Meanwhile despite the white aspect’s focus on cooperation the lack of green mana manifests in a lack of sense of community which gives the city it’s main theme of isolation and alienation, the embodiment of society as a cold machine.

Philael is the WUBG aligned city. It’s a cult run by a council of revered priests, prophets, and theologists. It’s not the rakdos style cult though, it’s much more of the sinister sort of banality like scientology, mormonism or selesnya. The modern new life fusion way style of cult if that makes sense. Everyone is part of the family, and you don’t betray your family. If you do, then anything is fair game. Don’t worry though, family forgives. White and green create a tightknit but highly stratified and strict sense of community. Blue manifests itself in the extreme degree of mental manipulation and veiled knowledge that goes on in the running of the cult, and we see black in the cult’s policy of brutal retaliation against those that break its rules. The lack of red mana is meant to provide a sense of lacking individual identity or the ability to express oneself.

Novaesium is the WURG aligned city. In concept it’s meant to be ruled by a lineage of wise and powerful philosopher kings, however in execution the monarchs are rarely as wise and fair as one would hope. They are a regressive society who desperately tries to cling to a mythical past version of Novaesium where it was the center of culture of commerce across the plane. Anything that threatens to interfere with the return of the kingdom’s golden age is essentially considered treason. As with many of the cities white manifests in Novaesium through it’s monarchy and sense of authoritarianism and strict but arbitrary rules. Blue shows itself through the focus on subjects like classicism and focus on analyzing the past, while red lends itself to the passion and zeal to return to that past. Green ties it all together with the sense that their community is all linked together and working towards a common supposedly noble goal. Black mana when appearing in characters that aren’t villains is typically reflective of self improvement and ambition, so Novaesium’s lack of black mana is meant to reflect an inability to move beyond the dreams of the past and create something new.

Raxfada is the WBRG aligned city. In Raxfada might makes right, which means that few warlords last long thanks to the frequent invocation of trials by combat to determine who should be in charge. Despite the bloody duels and lack of formal legal system Raxfada works on a strict honor system. Families are to take eye for eye and tooth for tooth. In order to keep the city running Raxfada is in a forever war, hunting down smaller weaker cities and draining the mana from them or integrating them into the city’s mass. White and black combine to create the honor system that substitutes for rule of law with it’s focus symmetrical but swift and brutal violence. Red represents the zeal and love for battle that citizens are raised to value in order to continue the forever war, and green the philosophy of might making right, and value of raw physical strength.

Quisith is the UBRG aligned city. It runs on a parliamentary system in which many small guilds and miscellaneous groups vye for control over the parliament. People are in general highly devoted to their individual parties but deeply suspicious of all others, believing them to be plotting to take over. These fears are of course justified since nearly every single guild, secret society, etc are all planning to take over in some manner. Quisith is unique in that because it’s made up of small factions sweeping statements about philosophy are a bit harder, but in general blue and black combine to produce a very dimir-esque aspect of subterfuge and subtle conflicts and plotting between organizations. Red is meant to reflect the intensity of conflicts and constantly flaring tempers between warring factions. The lack of white means that there’s a lack of centralized authority and unity between the whole of the factions.

Now I want to move on to the draft archetypes, each of which cover a two color pairing to make them flexible enough to build in limited formats.

Azorius Artifacts takes advantage of the color pairing’s ability to control the tempo of the game while giving it tools to buff, untap, and take advantage of artifacts they play in other ways. This is probably the most control oriented draft archetype for players who are a fan of that.

Orzhov Cycling is, as the name suggests focused on cycling. Specifically it uses cycling as a means to drain life from your opponents while maintaining card selection. I have the urge to say this is probably more of a midrange deck, but honestly I could see it being built in a couple different ways.

Boros Voltron/Go Tall focuses on applying powerful buffs to a single creature with cheap spells, making it one of the more aggro focused draft archetypes. There’s really not much more to say than that.

Selesnya Toughness Matters is my attempt to make a draft archetype that takes advantage of creature’s toughness with spells that set power equal to toughness and others that reward playing high toughness creatures. Because of the focus on more defensive creatures I think this archetype could potentially turn into a stall focused one, but it is also green so who knows what people could come up with.

Dimir Self Mill seems like pretty well trodden territory (it just appeared in Theros,) but it specifically seeks to take advantage of the two new custom mechanics, Trawl, and Repurpose which both have graveyard synergy and actually give Dimir the ability to ramp. I’ll explain both those mechanics in the next section though.

Izzet Auras is not something that is traditionally thought to fit the color pairing. However on this plane I wanted auras to be a sort of magical expression of an inner truth. Similarly to how the Prismari in strixhaven view their craft as artistry, auras are considered a deeply personal and artistic form of magic which I thought fit Izzet. (I actually came up with this before strixhaven was spoiled so it was a fun surprise.) Izzet auras do things like grant card draw, firebreathing and more, making them a sort of toolbox deck.

Simic Go Wide wants to overwhelm their opponents quickly with their efficiently costed creatures and overwhelming generation of tokens. Yes, this is an aggro Simic archetype, lord forgive me.

Rakdos Self Burn obviously deals direct damage to yourself as well as opponents and permanents they control while rewarding you for lowering your own life with benefits like card draw and buffed creatures.

Golgari Repurpose is fully based around the Repurpose mechanic which grants them exceptional temporary ramp, letting them cheat out giant creatures at the cost of exiling cards from their graveyard to help pay. This is yet another archetype aiming to use new mechanics, this time with sacrifice outlets and giant beaters.

Gruul Aggro is the mother of all aggro draft decks in this list. It has a focus on cheap but strong creatures with haste, and powerful enter the battlefield effects that defeat your opponent before they can begin to pull out their own strategy.

Finally, I want to finish off with a summary of the new mechanics, and a report of my progress as of writing this.

The two main mechanics unique to this set are Trawl and repurpose. Trawl lets you mill an amount of cards and then return any lands put into your graveyard that turn to your hand. I’m still ironing out the kinks in repurpose, but essentially repurpose is a keyword on permanents that lets you exile them from your graveyard (and maybe your hand, I haven’t decided) in order to add generic mana to your mana pool.

As of right now I have around 65 of the 101 magic cards found at common in each set completed. Rough drafts of white’s common cards in the set are finished and I plan to go back over an re-edit them to add some polish after I’m done with all the commons.

Thanks for reading and hopefully this was interesting!

#magic the gathering #wizards of the coast #custom set design #mtg homebrew #mtg #Ecumia

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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LIKE OPEN SOURCE, I DON'T THINK WE CAN GET MUCH MORE SPECIFIC WITHOUT STARTING TO BE MISTAKEN

Palo Alto, the original ground zero, is about thirty miles away, and the average level of what they're writing, as you might develop muscles, through exercise. I desperately needed on stuff that I didn't. That was a big problem for me when I had no idea what that meant until I did it.1 94 x 1. Our fathers weren't that stupid. In another year you'll be making $4. More precisely, the hypothesis was that success in a startup, we would never have taken funding from an incubator. Then I'm worried. Kids are less perceptive. If investors get too involved, they smother one of the commonest forms of corruption.2 We may not be as corrupt as it seems; those VPs' cushy jobs were probably payment for work done earlier.3 But what is a novelist to do?4

43, meaning that deal is worth taking if they can improve your average outcome for you to break even? That way we can avoid being discontented about being discontented. Just ask any teenager. In some countries this is the result of a deliberate policy. Our ancestors were giants. A country that got immigration right would have a huge advantage. Y Combinator offers to fund you in return for 6% of your company if what you trade it for improves your average outcome by more than 6.

Google is a better model. 167. The basic idea behind office hours is that the cycle is slow. But aside from that, I now actively avoid stuff. No, it turns out, the earth is not the center of the solar system. Most successful startups make that tradeoff unconsciously. But the problem is more than just that some startup might have a problem to explain: why are unions shrinking now? And it's not just that I accumulated all this useless stuff, but that they lack examples. As you've probably noticed, they have a lot in common. One thing we were curious about this summer was a spirit of independence.5

The whole summer was full of surprises. Since this is in effect the company's profit on a hire, the market will determine that: if you're a founder, here's a deal you can make with yourself that will both make you happy and make your company successful.6 In industrialized countries the same thing; if you win an Olympic gold medal, you can be fairly content, even if they never actually got the money. It's significant that the most famous recent startup in Europe, Skype, worked on a problem that was intrinsically international. Silicon Valley is too far from San Francisco. Every person has to do their job well. And he could help them because he was too young. We overvalue stuff.

Next time you're in a moderately large city, drop by the main post office and watch the body language of the office is replaced by wicked humor. As in software, when professionals produce such crap, it's not saying much that America is the perfect place for startups.7 In our case the distinguishing feature is the ability to reason. For example, suppose you're saving a piece of cake in the fridge, and you come home one day to find your housemate has eaten it. As Galbraith said, politics is a matter of choosing between the unpalatable and the disastrous. This turns out not to be the growing gap between them. So difficult that there's probably room to discard more. If you don't have to buy a drink, and they pay it to the big company.

I think one of the founders said I'd read that starting a startup molds you into someone who can handle it. People whose work is to ask yourself, before buying something, is this going to make my life noticeably better? But my main conclusion from the summer is that there's less room for people in a company financed by selling a VW bus and an HP calculator. Amateurs I think the big obstacle preventing us from seeing the future of business is the assumption that it's all about us. Lately companies have been paying more attention to open source. This works in America, at least in technology. Even in the US, and good high schools and bad universities, like the US, the most efficient plan would be to discover each person's station as early as possible, so they have to deliver every time. When I say business can learn about new conditions the same way a gene pool does.

The Germans invented the modern university, and up till the 1930s theirs were the best in America, because the remaining. A sinecure is, in the long run, of the forces underlying open source and blogging both work bottom-up often works better than top-down. So let's look at Silicon Valley the way you'd look at a product made by a competitor. Users don't switch from Explorer to Firefox because they want to win.8 Startups happen in clusters. If I want to spend money on some kind of zenlike detachment from material things. Gradually it will re-emerge.

More precisely, the hypothesis was that success in a startup depends mainly on how smart and energetic you are, and much less on how old you are or how much business experience you have. For example, the president notices that a majority of voters now think invading Iraq was a mistake, so he makes an address to the nation to drum up support.9 Except books—but books are different. Half the people there speak with accents. A more important source, because it's more personal and comes earlier in the process, is money from individual angel investors. We worry about that, but probably hurts. Basically, unions were just Razorfish.

Notes

Nat. For example, the work of selection. Though most VCs are only partially driven by people like them—people who get rich by preserving their traditional culture; maybe people in Bolivia don't want to believe that successful founders is exaggerated now because of some brilliant initial idea. For example, probably did more drugs in his twenties than any of his professors did in salary.

I realize a I have no idea whether this happens because they're determined to fight. No central goverment would put its two best universities in the aggregate are overpaid. This essay was written before Firefox.

The threshold for participating goes down to zero. I've become a function of the reasons startups are possible. Macros very close to 18% of GDP, despite dramatic changes in tax rates will tend to focus on building the company down. I'm not saying all founders who continued to live in a reorganization.

But the time it included what we now call science. 32. This seems to set aside for this is mainly due to fixing old bugs, and partly simple ignorance. Ironically, one could aspire to the year, but simply because he was a sudden rush of interest, you can't tell you that if you have 8 months of runway or less constant during the entire period from the example of a rolling close is to protect against truly determined attackers.

They don't know enough about the subterfuges they had first claim on the parental dole, and the editor written in C, which handled orders. Why Startups Condense in America. The two are not more startups to be low. This is a negotiation.

But it's useful to consider behaving the opposite way from the moment the time it filters down to you. In any case, as on a form that asks for your middle initial—because it aggregates data from so many others the pattern for the first type, and help keep the number of big corporations.

In a series.

On the face of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. There's not much to generalize. As far as such things can be and still provide a profitable market for a sufficiently good bet, why are you even be working on some project of your last round of funding.

It seems likely that in three months we can't figure out what the rule of law. Its retail price is about 220,000 sestertii for his freedom Dessau, Inscriptiones 7812. And maybe we should work like casual conversation.

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the-desolated-quill · 7 years

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Why Kilgrave Is The Best Villain In The Entire MCU (And Why He Should NOT Return For Jessica Jones Season 2) - Quill’s Scribbles

I don’t always complain about Marvel you know. Occasionally I say nice things too.

As we come to the end of what is for all intents and purposes Phase 1 of the Marvel Netflix Defenders... stuff, the response has been largely positive. Okay Daredevil Season 2 was a bit messy and the less said about Iron Fist the better, but overall I’d say that the Defenders... collection (what the fuck are we supposed to call these?) was quite successful. As well as being darker and more adult than the big budget Marvel movies, one of the primary reasons these TV shows stood out was the villains. Usually considered the bane of the MCU due to lack of development and formulaic writing, here the baddies were a revelation. They were given depth and complexity, as well as interesting dynamics and relationships with their respective protagonists that often went beyond the usual good vs evil tropes we’d normally expect from superhero media. I’m sure we all have our favourites. There’s Kingpin of course. Cottonmouth. Madame Gao. But for me the leader of the pack has to be Kilgrave.

Kilgrave has got to be the best antagonist ever to come out of the collective MCU, not just because of David Tennant’s performance and the stellar writing behind him, but also because of what he represents.

Let’s start with the whole mind control thing. In the comics, Kilgrave (or the Purple Man as he’s known) mostly used his mind control powers to create an army of slaves and minions for nefarious purposes. A tad obvious and not very inspired. The Alias comics, which Jessica Jones is based on, tried to expand on this, but still painted the Purple Man and his abilities with very broad strokes, turning Jessica Jones into a bodyguard and implied sex slave because... he’s the villain I guess. The Jessica Jones TV show, on the other hand, goes deeper into it, exploring what drives Kilgrave and how having the power of mind control would affect his character and morality.

The clever thing about it is even though Kilgrave does some truly horrible things in the show, his mind control powers still feel very enticing. I’m sure we’d all secretly want Kilgrave’s powers, maybe to talk our way out of a parking ticket or to get rid of someone really annoying. But as awesome as mind control is, it can also be very dangerous. Not only is there the question of removing someone’s free will, but there’s also other psychological implications. The episode AKA WWJD explores those implications as Jessica tries to convince Kilgrave to use his powers for good. There’s no denying that mind control is a powerful force that could do a lot of good in the right hands, but it becomes abundantly clear that Kilgrave is incapable of doing it, as indeed everyone would be incapable of doing it due to just how enticing and intoxicating the power of mind control would be.

Kilgrave makes a big song and dance about wanting to turn over a new leaf, but the truth is he has no compelling reason to. I honestly believe him when he says that it’s difficult for him to know for sure if someone is genuinely giving consent, but the fact is his life is just easier when he uses mind control. Why bother persuading someone to do what he wants when he can just command them to do it? Kilgrave is a repulsive human being, but the fact is his life is just better because of his powers. He doesn’t have to wait for other people to give consent or play by our rules. He can just do whatever he wants whenever he wants. That’s why his powers are so enticing. Mind control allows Kilgrave to bypass all those inconveniences like morality and the rights of other people, but the cost is that by doing so he became an amoral sociopath. I’m sure we’d all say that if we had mind control we’d be better than Kilgrave, but that’s easier said than done. Once you’re able to cross that moral line with no consequence, there’d be nothing to stop you from going all the way. That’s part of what makes Kilgrave so scary. We recognise what a vile, disgusting and selfish individual he is, but we also secretly recognise that, in his shoes, we’d be no better than him.

The other reason of course why Kigrave is such an effective villain is because he is in many ways a distillation of the many things women have had to endure in this patriarchal society. Kilgrave is the very embodiment of male entitlement. He believes that people, particularly women and especially Jessica, owe him something. Control is a major theme of the show. Jessica’s fight to reclaim control over her own life after the abuse she endured from Kilgrave, as well as Kilgrave’s ability to control others. He claims to be in love with Jessica, but the truth is he’s obsessed, and the reason he’s obsessed is because Jessica is the only one that managed to escape from him. After years of being able to control other people and get anything he wants with little to no effort, he no longer views people as people. Rather as tools for him to exploit. And he doesn’t respect or even comprehend people’s boundaries. The sad truth is there are loads of women out there who have met men like that. While Kilgrave takes it to its logical extreme, the premise isn’t so farfetched. There are men out there who do objectify women, merely viewing them as slot machines that you keep putting money in until you win the jackpot, as it were, and completely disrespecting their views and boundaries. I think that’s why this show has struck a chord with female audiences in particular because they can recognise the struggles Jessica is going through. Kilgrave is uncomfortable to watch because the idea of him hits very close to home. Even in the most progressive and feminist of men, there is a little bit of Kilgrave in all of them.

Kilgrave is such a dark, fascinating and downright disturbing character both in the context of the show and because of the real world parallels you can draw from him. So you’d think I’d be all in favour of him potentially returning for Jessica Jones Season 2. If only that were so.

For those who don’t know, photos were released from the set of Jessica Jones showing David Tennant on set with Krysten Ritter, suggesting Kilgrave will be returning from the dead. Some claim he may just appear in flashback or dream sequences, but there are photos of him interacting with Malcolm as well, which suggests he may well be alive. Nothing is certain of course. Maybe he’ll only be in a couple of episodes. Maybe he’ll be the main villain of Season 2. i don’t know. Either way, i honestly think it’s a mistake bringing him back. To explain why, I need to briefly discuss another favourite of mine. Loki.

I’ve made it no secret how much I enjoyed the first Thor movie, and Loki was definitely the highlight for me. A complex, intricately written character who reminded me a lot of Edmund from Shakespeare’s King Lear. A man who was clearly better suited to rule the kingdom than Thor, but is unable to ascend the throne due to the fact that he’s an illegitimate son. In the first Thor movie, Loki was a villain not by choice, but by circumstance. Loki would make a great king, but the only way he could possibly get to be king is through treachery and subterfuge, and by doing so he grows more and more corrupt until by the end he wouldn’t be fit to run a supermarket, let alone a kingdom. He’s a classic archetype, written with care and attention to detail and performed expertly by Tom Hiddleston. However problems started to emerge when Marvel kept bringing him back for repeat appearances. With each appearance, it seemed as though Loki was bering painted with broader and broader strokes, removing all the complexity and intricacy that made him so interesting to begin with until he became just the bog standard muhahaha villain we’ve come to expect from the MCU.

I’m worried the same thing could happen to Kilgrave. There’s a reason why most superhero movies kill off the villains after their initial appearance. To avoid the law of diminishing returns. Even before Heath Ledger’s tragic passing, Christopher Nolan had no intention of bringing the Joker back as the main villain for The Dark Knight Rises because he had already explored everything he wanted with that character. The problem with characters like Loki and Kilgrave is that they are effectively one trick ponies. Once you’ve explored Loki’s resentment and jealousy of Thor, his frustration at Odin and Asgardian society and his desire for power slowly turning into an insatiable lust for it, what else is there left to do? His story is basically done now. Why bring him back? All they do is just run the risk of repeating themselves and the nuance is no longer there as a result of the filmmakers desperately looking for something to do with Loki. Kilgrave has that same risk. The mind control stuff was scary and interesting and thought provoking, but we’ve pretty much seen everything we need to see and there’s nothing left really to explore. So why bring him back?

There’s also another problem with bringing Kilgrave back and that applies to Jessica herself. With sequels, filmmakers often struggle to find the right balance between retaining what people loved about the original and finding new, creative ways of moving the story forward. By bringing Kilgrave back, I fear that Jessica’s story is going to be stuck in amber. The first season focused on Jessica’s abuse. Logically the second season should focus on Jessica’s recovery. See her try to get back on her feet and perhaps fully address her alcohol addiction. Jessica should be moving forwards now, but by bringing Kilgrave back, there’s the risk that the story could end up going backwards instead. While an effective villain in the first season, he could actually serve as a detriment to the second because the show has exhausted all creative avenues with him at this point, plus there’s just no reason to bring him back after the first season wrapped his reign of terror up quite nicely, just like the first Thor movie did with Loki.

Kilgrave is the best villain in the MCU ,and that’s precisely why I don’t want to see him again. His story had a proper beginning, middle and end. Jessica’s has only just begun. Let’s look toward her future rather than continue to dwell in the past.

#kilgrave #purple man #jessica jones #marvel cinematic universe #netflix #quill's scribbles

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inhumansforever · 7 years

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Secret Warriors #5 Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

Things take a wild turn of events as the battle turns, Attilan is reclaimed and a completely unexpected secret is revealed in the latest installment of the Secret Warriors; from the creative team of Mathew Rosenberg, Javier Garrón and Israel Silva. Full recap and review following the jump.

Last issue ended in seeming tragedy as the Hydra Hellicarrier crashed and it appeared as though Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur had perished. The Warrior sift through the wreckage, hoping to find Lunella, although Daisy rather grimly states that they are more likely just looking for her body. The circular firing squad of blame quickly ensues as Ms. Marvel blames Daisy for leaving Moon Girl behind and Daisy blames them all for failing to realizing that this is war and war is never without its casualties.

The griping is interrupted when Karnak discovers that Devil Dinosaur has survived the crash. Devil D had been placed in a vibranium cage which absorbed the brunt of the impact. Once released, Devil Dino tries to communicate something to them. Moon Girl’s Inhuman powers enables her to switch consciousnesses with Devil Dinosaur and it quickly becomes apparent that Lunella is now inhabiting Devil D’s body. She must have survived and her body, now possessing Devil Dino’s consciousness is elsewhere. Using the dinosaur’s clawed hand, Lunella traces into the dirt the outline of the capitol building of New Attilan. Ms. Marvel recognizes the structure and they correctly surmise that Lunella has somehow been taken back to Hydra-occupied New York.

A rescue operation is launched. The team heads back east aboard a stolen tracker trailer; which offers Daisy and Inferno more time to flirt with one another as well as time for Karnak to creep Ms. Marvel out with his cold, pragmatic demeanor.

I’m still behind on the main Secret Empire book, but it appears that the Darkforce Energy dome that had sealed off Manhattan has been dissipated. The Warriors make it to the city and steal a ferryboat to go across the Hudson and sneak into New Attilan. The Inhuman city has been transformed into a large prison camp where the various Inhumans have been interred by Hydra. Having infiltrated the city, the team finally discovers Lunella, who is indeed unharmed and, though imprisoned, appears to be just fine playing Connect Four with the mysterious Inhuman child known as Leer.

Here things take a turn that I in no way so coming. It’s revealed that Leer is Karnak’s son.

I’ll let that one sink in for a moment…

Okay. So, right… Leer is Karnak’s son and an Inhuman who was never exposed to the Terrigen Cloud, thus leaving his powers dormant. And yet, whatever experiments the Dark Beast had conducted on him has now enabled him to use his powers. These powers entail the ability to temporarily augment the Inhuman powers of anyone around him… but he can only do it once. How he knows this, who his mom is, and all of the other six dozen questions I have are left unrevealed.

The more pressing matter is that The Warriors now have a choice to make. They can utilize Leer’s power-boosting abilities now to free the city of New Attilan and save all the Inhumans incarcerated therein or wait and use the child’s power boosting for a final assault on Hydra’s leadership. Daisy is in favor of the latter, but the rest of the team opt to save the city. Perhaps augmenting her powers would enable Daisy to defeat Captain America and cut off the head of the snake of Hydra, yet the much more immediate need is all of the innocent Inhumans imprisoned on New Attilan; and Ms. Marvel and the others are unwilling to just leave them behind.

Karnak asks Moon Girl what they should do and Lunella responds ‘if they can help people now then they should.’ Karnak agrees and instructs his son to use his powers. A blinding light emits from Leer and each of the Warriors are imbued with a substantial boost to their powers.

A tremendous battle ensues as the Warriors free the Inhumans and they wage war on their Hydra captors. At first the Inhumans do not fair well against the heavily armed forces of Hydra, but the tide of the battle turns when members of The Avengers arrive to assist.

In the midst of the fight, Daisy seeks out her father, Mr. Hyde, and finds him attempting to flee. Just as she finds him, however, her augmented powers wane and Hyde is able to knock her out and escape with Daisy as his prisoner.

The forces of Hydra on New Attilan have been defeated and The Warriors race after their teammate. Whilst aboard Hyde’s aircraft, Daisy’s father proposes that they put their differences aside and team up. Hyde suggests that his daughter has always been a mercenary, whether working for Fury or for Shield. Why not team up with him? Together they can take down captain America and make a fortune hunting down the remnants of Hydra once the country’s former government is restored.

For a moment it appears as though Daisy is actually considering her father’s proposal, especially when he revealed that her close friend, Phil Coulson has been murdered and he can give her the opportunity to avenge his death.

The Warriors catch up with Hyde’s fleeing craft and Inferno takes it down with a precision hit. Surrounded, Hyde proclaims that his daughter had come with him willingly and that together they will take on Hydra. Yet Daisy reveals that her seeming openness to her father’s plan was merely a ploy to grant her time for her teammates to rescue her.

Mr. Hyde attacks his caught but Karnak intercedes, delivering bevy of flaw-finding Kung Fu chops that leaves Hyde completely paralyzed.

With the battle over, The Warriors are finally offered the time to take in all that has happened. Karnak had clearly lied to Daisy, tricking her into assisting him in getting back his son. Furthermore, it is revealed that Karnak had willingly offered his son to evil forces in the hopes that it would result in his gaining his powers. It’s all essentially the last straw. Whatever thin sense of purpose there was that kept this ragtag team together has fallen apart.

Utterly disillusioned by Karnak’s terrible parenting and Daisy’s cold-blooded leadership, Ms. Marvel proclaims that she is done and walks away. Inferno follows taking Leer with him and offering to bring him to some people he can stay with. Moon Girl goes with them. Leaving Daisy and Karnak behind to glare at each other with utter contempt. It appears that The Secret Warriors are finished…

The issue ends with a post script showing a scene that occurred prior to Hydra’s take over. Karnak and his son stand in front of The Tower of Wisdom. Karnak explains to Leer that dangerous sacrifices must be made to help him in attain his Inhuman actualization.

Leer is reluctant and afraid, but ultimately chooses to obey his father. A mysterious figure appears to take the child away. The last page reveals this stranger to be the X-Men foe, Mr. Sinister. Sinister, an expert on the manipulation of genes, promises to facilitate Leer’s transformation in exchange for the opportunity to further examine the Inhuman genome. And Karnak agrees because handing your children over to super villains seems to be something of a tradition among the Royal Family.

And it is here that the issue ends and whatever circumstances that might bring The Secret Warriors back together is left a mystery that we’ll have to wait until next month to discover.

Whoa. A lot to unpack in this issue. First off the art continues to be exceptional and this run has constituted Javier Garrón’s best work to date. He and colorist Israel Silva work very well together and the dynamic pallet Silva employs brings a vibrant pop to Garrón’s illustration.

The plot kind of falls apart, yet that seems to be on purpose. The mission that brought the Warriors together was built upon Karnak’s subterfuge and now that Leer has been rescued there really is no longer a specific reason for these heroes to remain together as a team. And creating a new and believable reason for the team to come back together in the next issue is going to be quite a challenge.

Mathew Rosenberg’s knack for writing excellent and believable dialogue more than compensates for the looseness of the plot. Much of the tale thus far has been an intricate character study of Daisy, with the other characters acting as foils in her process of trying to retain a sense of meaning and purpose now that her whole world has fallen apart.

Of course what was most striking about the issue was the revelation that Karnak has a son. Who is this kid? Who is his mother? Why haven’t we heard of him before? And what sort of madman hands his kid over to the diabolical Mr. Sinister? So many questions and so few answers.

Still, if a central part of a good comic book is leaving the reader anxious and eager to read the next installment, then this issue has succeeded in spades. I have no idea what is going to happen next, but am very excited to find out!

Definitely recommended. Four out of Five Lockjaws.

#Inhumans #Secret Warriors #spoilers #Mathew Rosenberg #Javier Garrón #Israel Silva #review

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mtg-weekly-recap · 7 years

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MTG Weekly Tumblr Recap: May 01, 2017

Nahiri the Lithomancer, Sorin Markov and Ugin The Spirit Dragon, Cartoon style. | @pazmonx

This week’s edition of the Recap has dodged the Ban-hammer! Let’s take a look at all the different formats that have been affected by banned and restricted announcements, as well as the heavily symbolism-laden Magic Story and some nostalgic fan-art. Join us for more wrap-ups than an Anointed Procession in this issue of the Magic: the Gathering Weekly Tumblr Recap.

1. Emergency Banning In Standard

Saheeli’s Lament | @planeswalker-umbral

In one of the more bizarre banning and restricted events, the powerful two card combo of Saheeli Rai and Felidar Guardian were conspicuously unaffected by the announcement on Monday, April 24, despite the infinite loop being missed by Magic R&D, and therefore not attracting the suite of answers that cards like Heart of Kiran and other standard powerhouses now have to face with the release of Amonkhet.

This news (or more specifically the lack of news) set many tongues a wagging as the merits and demerits of Wizards declining to meddle in Standard versus getting down and curating the format, with debate raging as to how the current meta with two dominant decks appearing far more prevalent and leading to far less innovation than Smuggler’s Copter and Emrakul, the Promised End (which were sent to the naughty corner last January) ever did. Just as the hand-wringing and bemoaning three more months of a bland Standard reached it’s peak, Wednesday brought an addendum to Monday’s announcement, Felidar Guardian was hit with the ban-hammer. It is interesting that one of the main drivers for both the non-action on the Monday and further action on the Wednesday was the earliest release of the new set on the digital platform, MTGO. This allowed R&D to see what a potential new standard might look like, and whatever data they drew, they felt it was big enough and scary enough to make the call. So what does this mean for standard? Well, the upcoming pro-tour should provide some answers, and like with many recently shaken-up formats, aggressive decks should see good representation (and some success) while the brewmasters work behind the scenes. Rakdos and Jund discard/hellbent seem to blend the best of Amonkhet and Innistrad themes, as well as many recursive graveyard strategies. Amonkhet also brings with it lots of interesting control strategies the might make more of a splash as the format goes forward, now that a Turn 4 instant kill is no longer a spectre hanging over it.

— Liam W, @coincidencetheories

2. Bans and Unbans in Commander

Brewing when they unban a combo piece | @phyrexian-without-a-cause

Following the official B&R announcement from Wizards for Constructed formats came one from the MTG Commander Rules committee: Leovold, Emissary of Trest is banned and Protean Hulk is unbanned.

Those who have played with or against Leovold know how insanely powerful he is. With “wheel” effects like Windfall, Whispering Madness, Dark Deal, and Teferi’s Puzzle Box and plenty of control elements, Commander decks led by Leovold easily stripped apart opponents’ hands with efficiency and consistency, making him miserable to play against. It’s only been eight months since Leovold was printed in Conspiracy: Take the Crown, but it was enough to demonstrate his power. At the moment, Leovold, Emissary of Trest still holds its $50-price tag since it is a Legacy staple in many Sultai decks (Reid Duke took down GP Louisville this year with True-Name Nemesis Sultai, which ran two copies of Leovold in the main).

The announcement of Protean Hulk’s unbanning was by far the most surprising B&R change of the week. For those unfamiliar with Protean Hulk’s power level, Flash Hulk was a deck that won the third-ever Legacy GP back in 2007 whose main strategy involved Flashing in the Hulk on t2 or earlier with fast mana (yes, even t0), sac’ing it and tutoring up 4 Disciple of the Vault, 4 Phyrexian Marauder, and 4 Shifting Wall. The artifact creatures would die due to SBA and the Disciples would immediately dome your opponent for 32.

While Flash got banned in Legacy as a result of this deck, the combo dream never died: Protean Hulk returned to the limelight in 2015 when Lantern Control creator Zac Elsik among a dozen other players brought a Modern Hulk Combo deck to GP Pittsburgh. Here’s the basic strategy: after discarding Protean Hulk to a number of loot spells in the deck then reanimating it with and sac’ing it to Footsteps of the Goryo or Makeshift Mannequin, search out Viscera Seer and Body Double, copying the Protean Hulk that just went to your graveyard. Sac’ the Body Double with Viscera Seer’s ability to search out Reveillark and Mogg Fanatic, which you sac’ to ping your opponent for 1. From there, you sac’ the Reveillark to bring back Mogg Fanatic and Body Double, copying Reveillark. Because Reveillark and Body Double can continuously bring back each other, you can bring back Mogg Fanatic an arbitrary number of times until your opponent has been pinged to death.

While I doubt anyone will run this 5-color combo in Commander, the unbanning of Protean Hulk has got the community brewing up what creatures they can tutor up and combo off within their current decks’ respective color identities. Within an hour of the announcement, Protean Hulk shot up from below 4.00 USD to over 21.00 USD, with many eager EDH players scrambling to get their copies. My brother and I jumped on the opportunity and bought 5 copies within minutes of the announcement: I snagged two MP copies off eBay for five bucks total, whereas my brother bought three LP copies from his LGS down in San Diego, CA for about three bucks each. We’ll definitely be looking into making a profit when we sell some of them but not all of them—my brother plans to slot a copy of Protean Hulk into his Rashmi Elves deck and sac’ing to either Birthing Pod, Eldritch Evolution, or Natural Order, fetching six mana dorks and Dryad Arbor and swinging in for a buttload of damage, especially with Concordant Crossroads or Akroma’s Memorial in play. Can’t wait to lose to him like that…

— Vincent B, @the-burnished-hart

3. Legacy and Vintage Bans and Restrictions

Sic Semper Tyrannis (Thus Always to Tyrants) | by @phyrexian-without-a-cause

The most recent B&R announcement has brought with it the end of an era. In Legacy, the linchpin card of the Miracles deck Sensei’s Divining Top has finally been struck down, taking the most prevalent deck, in terms of overall appearances in major tournaments, in the format with it. The reactions to the ban have, oddly enough, been pretty reasonable. Even some popular Miracles players like Joe Lossett have been pretty quick to say that they understand and they saw this coming for a long time. The ban also makes Legacy event coverage a lot easier to do, now that commentators no longer have to try to make activating Top seem exciting. This just goes to show that if you make a road sign and put it at WotC Headquarters, you can achieve anything (please don’t actually make a big road sign and put it out front of Wizards Headquarters).

In the world of Vintage, Wizards has gone after Monastery Mentor decks and slapped Gitaxian Probe and Gush with a Restricted status. Much like with Legacy Miracles, Mentor decks in Vintage have been running rampant and the bans of these “free” draw spells are meant to weaken this Vintage powerhouse. Not much has been said about how these restrictions are being taken, but most people seem to be in agreement with Wizards, or are saying that Mentor itself should have been the one to be restricted, based on the power level of the card. Nevertheless, this seems to be a positive change for the format.

These announcements have made people in the respective formats, or even outside of them that are interested in them, start experimenting to find the next powerhouse. In terms of how formats are taking their bans/restrictions, Legacy and Vintage seem to be taking their hits well, and, much like what Wizards hopes will happen whenever they make these announcements, the player-base seems to be growing and evolving with these new changes, producing more diverse environments for the people that make these formats their homes. One can only hope that these times of prosperity last, as this writer is trying to buy in to Legacy himself, and is excited at the prospect of jumping in to such a, seemingly, welcoming format.

— Colin M, @delver-of-seacrest

4. Magic Story Recap

The Hand that Moves - Ken Troop

Decision Paralysis | Original art by Vincent Proce

The plot of this weeks Magic Story, The Hand that Moves can be told simply, Nissa takes Kefnet’s Trial of Knowledge. But it’s the details contained within that are the meat of this tale. Firstly, Nissa finds her way to the temple of Kefnet merely seeking answers to the perplexing questions that surround the entire city of Naktamun and the influence of Bolas. The Vizier of Kefnet tries to ward her away, but her resistance to his clumsy attempts at mind magic as well as her quite remarkable status as an outsider to the usual warrior-caste system allows her to keep him off balance enough to attempt the trial in order to interrogate the God himself. The first bombshell that hits is Nissa’s first vision is of an Angel, who appears to be none other than Emrakul herself. Now there is obviously much illusion and subterfuge within these trials so there is no clear inference as to whether this appearance is Nissa’s fear, or even something more sinister, considering in The Promised End Nissa appeared most affected by the influence of Emrakul, as well as Nissa’s formative years on Zendikar where the Goddess Emeria was revered even among her people. Who does this version of Emrakul represent, or is she not even part of the test and something Nissa had latent inside her since Innistrad? Equally as strange is the affirmation that the Angel brings: “I can do anything I want. Anything at all. Remember that.” Visions and symbolism follows, with very physical sensations and in the middle of it Nissa begins to study the leylines and see the fabric of the trial, behind the sights, sounds and sensations. The Test seems to fight against her, the closer she pries behind the curtain. Images that seem to be Bolas’s influence across the multi-verse appear, followed by further reminder that the five gods were part of a pantheon of eight. Three figures that might represent the missing deities scurry to escape the protection of the Hekma. A focus on the mining and collection of a strange, blue mineral. A series of images of decay and destruction that if they don’t related directly to the Gatewatch certainly follow their way around the color wheel, then more imagery of the approach of the second sun that is most definitely not a second sun, and then -

Emrakul returns

The angel that is Emrakul that might not be Emrakul ask Nissa if she would be a pawn or a queen in the game. Nissa sees the trap that no matter her power if she falls for this choice she would only ever be a piece to be manipulated. The phrase “Be the hand that moves” echoes again from the Chess game Jace and ‘Emrakul’ played during The Promised End. Kefnet arrives full of pomp and circumstance demanding to know who was interfering in the Trial, scattering Nissa’s mental defences as Kefnet read her intentions. He declares that knowledge is not a gift to be given but a prize to be earned, and is about to dissolve Nissa’s mind, when “Emrakul”s advice stirs her to action, and she observes that Kefnet’s being is made up of leylines, something she has more than a little familiarity with, as well as noticing that there are several lines that are very off kilter. With a clumsy yet precise manipulation of those wayward leylines, Nissa is able to deflect the God enough that his attention wavered and she became to him merely an initiate who had passed his trial. Presumably the cartouche was waiting for her in the gift shop on the way out…

— Liam, @coincidencetheories

5. Fan-arts…

The Smallwatch | Original art by @erybiadraws

This weeks seems there’s been an interesting and wonderful trend towards the nostalgic, as we have been graced with many a fan-art of characters from our near, and sometimes not-so-near past. @alexgilbertart starts us off with the secretly unraveling Jace, Unraveller of Secrets from Innistrad. Another Innistradi visitor to be featured this week was @azami ‘s study of the studious soratami Tamiyo, the Moon Sage

Stretching further back in the mists of time, @pandoraeve brings us the foremost Praetor Elesh Norn as she dodges the blue shells in a Mario Kart, and @erybiadraws shows us the undulating Ulamog in its full glory.

Finally, a couple of sketches from @dancing-sword, including Garruk giving Chandra animal handling advice, and a drawing of the Tarkirs planeswalking power-couple, Narset and Sarkhan

— Liam W, @coincidencetheories

6.Vanilla Matters.

Murganda Petroglyphs | Original MTG art by Scott Altmann

The concept of ‘Vanilla’ in Magic is supposedly a simple one. A Vanilla Creature is simply on with no rules text (flavor text is allowed. Vanilla is a flavor, after all). Simply a creature type, a mana cost, power, and of course toughness. No effects on entering or leaving the battlefield, no activated abilities, and no keyword. Nothing. Mons Goblin Raiders, Grizzly Bears, Savannah Lions. The building blocks of a set, and usually filler cards for your limited or standard deck. But two topics have shone the spotlight on the humble Vanilla Creature this week, as @markrosewater ‘s Blogatog has been inundated with requests that if or when we travel to Murganda, we continue in the tradition of Murganda Petroglyphs from Future SIght block and have Vanilla Matters cards, or cards that bolster creatures without abilities. The trouble with this, as Mark Rosewater reiterates, is that the creatures themselves can’t grant their fellow vanilla creatures abilities, and there are only so many bonuses you can give to vanilla creatures before you’re giving them abilities, which make them no longer vanilla creatures which means they lose their abilities which means they are once again vanilla and oh no I’ve gone cross eyed. So MaRo has advised us all not to set our hopes too high on a visit to Murganda featuring Vanilla matters, especially as Murganda is already carrying the baggage of being the Dinosaur plane as well as somehow home to the Mimeoplasm. But that doesn’t mean that Murganda Petroglyphs itself can’t see a reprint…

Dovetailing with the discussion on Vanilla Matters was a check in with a recurring favorite of Blogatog readers, the Vanilla Mythic, which is precisely what it says on the box, a vanilla creature, at mythic rarity, that obviously has been subject to much speculation. Mark confirmed in a blog post that the mythic is doing just fine, and that we will see it later this year This has led to new speculation as to just what a Vanilla Mythic might need to be, to justify it’s rarity, starting with @sarkhan-volkswagen and continuing on in the various reblogs and replies.

…and finally: Friday Nights

Noted Magic content creators Loading Ready Run released a new episode of Friday Nights this week, as just in time for Amonkhet’s release. Friday Nights is a series following the group’s misadventures into the world of Magic, which has been running since 2012. This month’s episode is notable for callbacks not only to the eternal conundrum of the proper creature type of the multi-headed Nessian Asp, but also to the fearsome reputation of Kathleen’s Cat deck which first made it’s appearance in the groups short, ‘It’s Magic’ which reflected their rediscovery of the game, way back in 2010.

Thank you again for reading this week’s issue of the MTG Weekly Tumblr Recap. Hope to see you next week!

Interested in contributing to the Recap? Want to keep track of notable posts and trends throughout the MTG community on a given week? Or write a short blurb on a specific topic? Do you just want to make us aware of one specific topic or post? Please PM our main editor @the-burnished-hart or any of our staff writers

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