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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

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Dan Redemption with a twist

So I'm still geeking out over my ask that @stillebesat answered a few days ago, the one where about an upcoming fic. I've been playing around with a really similar idea, with a redeemed Dan fusing with a clone of Danny, for months now.

Here's my idea:

First of all, my preferred version of Dan is basically Danny but evil. He less fused with Plasmius and more consumed his powers so Dan doesn't have any of Vlad's memories. Next, I'm a big fan of the idea that Dan deeply regrets killing his human half and is, for lack of a better word, haunted by the action. It was the first death of his reign of terror, his final chance to turn back from the dark path he was on and...it was his suicide.

Now, Dan doesn't realize any of this for what feels like centuries. He's trapped in the Fenton thermos in Clockwork's lair, alone with only his thoughts. And the knowledge starts creeping in, all that he'd lost, all that he'd done. He realizes that he misses his friends and family and to his surprise, he hopes his younger self saved them. But then he realized that he tried to kill them. And the guilt starts creeping in. The regret follows and he remembers all the rest of his crimes. He doesn't have enough humanity, enough emotional capacity to be wrecked but he's no longer a rage fueled destructive monster.

Then to Dan's shook, Clockwork releases him without a word. The master of time dumps him in the new timeline, maybe a few months after the events of TUE. To his dim relief, Dan finds that his friends and family are all still alive. He watches them for a while, trying to process where he is and what happened. But then he runs into Danny. And things don't go well. It's a rocky start. Danny does not trust Dan at all. He doesn't trust that the older ghost has no intention of hurting his loved ones. Danny is ready and willing to fight and recapture him. The younger's opinion doesn't change until Dan saves him and Jazz during a ghost attack. The two ghosts, at Jazz's insistence, come to an uneasy impasse. Danny will leave Dan alone if the older ghost leaves him and his family alone. Dan isn't really happy about this arrangement but it's better than being trapped in the thermos again and he does have no intention of hurting his younger counterpart or his loved ones.

So Dan concedes. He stays out of Danny's way. He watches. He catches glimpses of his former friends and family from a distance. And it hurts. Dan feels out of place, disconnected. This isn't his time, isn't his place. He's stuck on the outside looking in... and this timeline already has a Danny, one who didn't make the aggresous mistakes he did. And those mistakes... the guilt's still there but like all other emotions, it's dim and distant. That's how it's been since his death, with every emotion but rage. But still, Dan does not like being on the outside looking in. He needs to do something else with himself, find some place he can belong.

Then Dan remembers Vlad. He had gone to the older half ghost after losing everything. And... Vlad had tried to help him. Separating the then halfa at his request had been a horrible idea but Vlad had been trying. Vlad did care about him. And.... the man must be so lonely now. Lonely like Dan himself is.

It's something of a wim but Dan goes to the older halfa. And at first, it's a surprise to Vlad and then seemingly a dream come true. Here in front of him is a version of Daniel who wants to stay by his side willingly. This Dan is more powerful and experienced than his younger counterpart, though not as experienced as Vlad. The young man is willing to be taught and all he seemingly wants is companionship. Yes, it would be a dream come true except...

Dan will not tolerate any of Vlad's shit. He will not be used to hurt anyone ever again. He will not take part in any of Vlad's schemes against the Fentons. It's a high price to pay but the older man backs off. Vlad is content to not be alone and have a chance to convince Dan to work with him.

So Dan stays with Vlad. With the older man busy with work, Dan has free reign of the mansion for most of the day. In some ways, it's nice. Away from Amity Park, there's no temptation to check on his former loved ones. His longing for a life he can no longer have is diminished. Vlad's mansion provides ample distraction, in the library, the game room, the gardens. But... the days are long and often lonely and the nights... they're even worse. The large building, empty and quiet, it's too much like a time Dan wishes he could forget. The memories are stronger now. After the fiery explosion...weeks of weeping in his room. Somber diners with Vlad where he couldn't force himself to eat. Waking up from another nightmare.

Without his humanity, the grief isn't as soul wrenching as it should be. But it's ever present, the memories on repeat. And there is little to break them up. As a ghost, Dan cannot sleep. He cannot eat. He can't truly feel the sun on his face or the comforting chill of the water on the pool. All physical sensations are dimmed.

And Dan starts to realize, it's excruciating. He feels incomplete, like there's a gapping whole in his chest. The memories of his own death, seen from the outside, return. His own icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain. Red blood spattered on his face. It's horrifying. Or it should be. If Dan could muster up more than the dimmest shadow of the emotion. But he can't, because the part of him that could died 10 years ago. And... this is wrong. He is wrong.

He should have died completely as himself, as Danny Fenton. He shouldn't have watched his death from the outside by his own hands. He shouldn't be this half being that couldn't even be bothered to die properly.

Dan stews, a forgotten anger growing as he longs for something he'd once wanted rid of. His human self, his Fenton, his humanity... he wants it. He wants to be truly, completely himself again. He wants to be whole enough to fade, to move on.

But that is the problem with ghosts, especially one like him. They do not change. They do not move on. As much as Dan acts like he is older, like he is different, he is not. He's the same angry, broken teen that he was ten years ago. And he will never be anything else.

Dan rages, trashing Vlad's training room. Soon enough, his anger is spent and the young man comes back to his senses. Dan huffs in frustration and annoyance at himself. He'd rather enjoyed Vlad's training room and now the man himself will likely be cross with him. Dan does his best to put the room back in order and find something else to do.

But the pain, regret, and longing linger. At some level, Dan thinks he's being ridiculous. All his former loved ones are alive. Dan isn't alone. He has Vlad and the ability to determine his own future. This world wasn't ravaged by his hand. His mistakes have been erased. He should be free. Except...

No, his mistakes are not all erased. His own death returns to his mind over and over. He shouldn't think about, he shouldn't dwell on it but...

One day, Dan goes down to Vlad's secret lab. He knows he shouldn't. This is such a breach of Vlad's trust but... this is were it happened. The young man stares at the metal table. If he was capable of feelings cold, he would shiver. There, where he was pulled out of his body. That wall, he cornered his human half there, the boy cowering in fear. There, that control panel was spattered with his own blood.

Dan wishes he could cry but he's not human enough for that. He's not human at all. But he wishes he was.

Startled by the thought, the full ghost turns away. He shouldn't wish for things he can't have but... no. Dan's eyes flicker around the room, looking for small differences from his memories. Some of the equipment is laid out differently. There are different samples on the shelf and... that door wasn't there before.

Dan walks through and finds... metal and glass chambers in different degrees of construction. A few are filled with ectoplasm and there in the back... if Dan had a heart, it would stop. There in a clear pod with a breathing mask over his face is...Danny Fenton. No, that's not right. This isn't... this isn't his timeline. And his younger counterpart is in Amity Park so....

Dan frantically searches Vlad's computer, his notes for answers. Clones. Vlad had been trying to clone his younger half ghost counterpart. In the tube... clone 3. Fully human. Suffered mental decline from 2 weeks gestation and eventually brain death a month later. Body kept alive by machines since... the week Dan arrived.

Dan wishes he could feel shock. He wishes he could feel relief. From the data, this was the first attempt that even resembled something human. The others were by all measures animals, in no way sentient. And it appears Vlad hasn't continued working since Dan came to live with him. But still...

Dan confronts Vlad, asking about the experiments, about the clone kept on life support.

"I could not bear to pull the plug." Vlad answers, surprisingly sober. "I'd hoped his condition would improve." There is a far away look in his eyes, a longing. "I tried everything I could think of to stop the degradation but..." The older half ghost shook his head. "I'm continuing to monitor 3's status." There was a pain in Vlad voice. "I fear he won't live to see the outside of his chamber."

Vlad was in denial, Dan thinkd. This clone is gone, like his own human half. The heart still beats, the lungs still breath but...

He shock his head. "Before you approach me, I consider...if I could create a viable, ghostly clone and coax the spirit to hybridize with the body..."

The idea was ridiculous and he should be disgusted, hearing all Vlad had done, what he had planned but...

"That is all in the past now." Vlad finished sadly.

All in the past like the loss of his own human half. He shouldn't wish for things that he couldn't have but...

"I'm a viable ghost..." Dan could barely believe the words coming out his mouth. "Not a clone but... I am without a human side."

Vlad is staring at him like he has another head, something which Dan was sure he did not currently have. "Daniel...are you suggesting... what I think you are suggesting?"

Was he? It was ridiculous, impossible. He could not replace his human side by... possessing an animated corpse.

"No. I am not." Dan denied. "Forget I said anything."

Vlad gave a nod, dropping the conversation. But Dan did not forget. This idea... it was wrong. It was impossible. He couldn't be made a half ghost again. But...

The temptation. If anyone could get it to work, it would be Vlad. And if it did...the ghost floats to what had been his bedroom and laid down. If it worked, he could sleep. He could eat. He could go out in public with human. It would necessarily be a replacement for what he'd lost but...

No... this was wrong. This was basically a clone of himself whose body he wanted to steal. But... was it really? This was an empty body, no mind, no soul. It was mad science but... Dan was already the product of mad science.

And if it worked, not as an overshadowing but a hybrization... he could truly age, he could grow passed what happened. And he could feel more than the pale shadows he could now.

The next day, Dan asks Vlad for what he wants.

"Are you sure?" The man asked. "This could have unknown consequences on your body or your mind. You could even destabilize."

That gave Dan pause. This might not work. He might end up in unknown pain or even fade but... "this is worth the risk."

The pair work together, planning and experimenting. They give the body transfusions of Dan's ectoplasm. The younger ghost practices envisioning himself as a halfa again. He prepares himself.

"I will need to reduce you down to your core." Vlafd says solemnly.

Dan places his existence in Vlad's hands. After blowing off seemingly endless amounts of energy in a desolate portion of the Ghost Zone, the older halfa repeatedly shocks him with the Plasmius Maximus. Dan's body pops out of existence, leaving his core exposed.

As just a core, there is no sensation. No input. No output. It's terrifyingly like being in the thermos again. Dan knows he is being moved. Vlad is doing something to him but... there is nothing and too much at the same time.

Dan can not process. He is cradled. There is something beside him, something around him reaching out. Something is changing. He is changing. It is too much. Dan loses consciousness for the first time in ten years. It is not sleep. There is no dream. He can think one moment, separated from the world. And the next...

He is under water. Something is beeping. He feels light but heavy. Cold but warm. His center is fluttering, something straining and pounding. An emotion. Something that might be panic or fear suddenly rises in him, crashing over him as a wave. An equally panicked voice comes from in front of him. Then there's a sting in his neck. Sting? Pain? Pain, it's been so long since he felt pain. And... his neck? He has a neck again. Dan blacks out again.

The young man comes to again. There is still something beeping near his head. He's not under water now but laying on something soft. Soft and warm. Warm....Dan can feel that. His breath hitches. Breath... he feels lungs move on his chest. And...he feel heavy and warm. Something... something happened. He can't remember what...

Dan's eyes flutter open, falling on... Vlad.

The man's eyes met his, relief flashing across them. "Daniel." He sighs. "How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Dan crocks. Is that... is that his voice? "What...what happened?" The ghost (?) thinks he might know. "Did it work?" He whispered.

Dan's voice... his voice is high, like when he was a younger teen. It should feel strange but...

"Take a look." Vlad says, offering him a mirror.

Dan reaches forward with a shaking hand. His hand... it's not gloved, neither is it blue. It's.... he stares. It's a pale peach color like... his hands are smaller and thinner....

"Daniel." Vlad interrupts. "It's alright." He holds the mirror up and...

Dan meets blue eyes. His own blue eyes. Eyes he never thought he'd see again except on someone else. His eyes water as he reaches towards the mirror. "It worked."

His new heart is aching, a thousand emotions hitting him. Joy, happiness, relief, grief, guilt, regret. All of them are bigger, nearer, more real and soul-aching than it's been in years. He should be upset. He looks and sounds like a kid again. But... "I'm alive."

He is alive. And it is a joy. A gift. A promise. He will not waste this second chance.

The newly remade halfa is crying and...it's never felt so good.

#danny phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #i know Dan's grossly ooc here but i do not care.#my post #my ficlet

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exn0bisstudios · 3 years

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hiya! if it isn't spoiler-y or you won't be making a separate post for it, could you tell us a bit about the work hunters and seers do? does being a member of the order as a hunter always guarantee that you'll have a seer for a partner, or do they have different kinds of work that don't require a partner, or maybe require a bigger group to work with?

I will be making a post about it. After that, you'll obviously get a more in-depth look during the game itself. Still, since I have some other things lined up first, I would be happy to give some cursory notes here in this ask!

Please be aware that this info might seem a bit jumbled since I'm just tossing out notes (also I’m running on two hours of sleep lmao). This also got really long, so I apologize for that! As I said, I'll eventually get a much more organized & concise post up for you guys!

About Seers of The Twilight Order

What is a Seer?

Seers are magically gifted individuals of strong mentality who have been soul-bound to a Nightmare, which allows them to use Void magic. Said magic is the only thing that can actually destroy a Nightmare - yes, they can be hurt by weapons. Still, they'll eventually reform from the damage unless a Seer comes along and wipes them out. Since the Void is essentially power in its most raw form, it is not meant to be used by mortals. So, the Order devised the binding to allow an adept enough mage to use a Nightmare as a proxy. It's a messy necessity since, without Seers, Yereth-Shai would have fallen to the Nightmares a long, long time ago.

Unfortunately, this proxy system is hugely flawed. Nightmares, by their very nature, are corrupted, as is the Void. The forcible melding of a mortal soul to this corrupted being will eventually erode the mortal, no matter how mentally resilient they are. The more they use the Void magic, the faster that corruption sets in. Not to mention that the binding ritual itself can be deadly outright.

In short, becoming a Seer is a death sentence. Most last for around 5 years before corruption kills them. Unfortunately, it's also common for Seers to go insane, either from corruption or just from having a primordial creature that hates them living in their head. The Order has a care facility set up for any non-violent Seers who have lost their minds, where they can live out what's left of their lives in peace and safety. Sadly most that go nuts are also violent, though, and are mercy-killed by The Order before they can cause civilian casualties.

If you're asking, "why would anyone want to be a Seer" the answer is, again, purely because it's necessary for the survival of mortal-kind. Many people who volunteer to become a Seer do so because they see it as a way to atone for past sins. Some do so to be a hero, however short-lived it might be. Some just see it as a civic duty. Regardless of why the Order won't turn away volunteers.

Who can become a Seer?

The only actual requirements are that the candidate must be willing, mentally resilient, and magically capable. Of course, it's always preferable for a candidate to be young and healthy. Such individuals typically prove more resilient to both the required training and the ritual itself. However, so long as they meet the core necessities and make it through Seer training, the Order won't turn anyone away.

A candidate will go through 5 to 8 years of relentless training to prepare for the binding ritual. The training is brutal and has been deadly but is necessary if the candidate hopes to survive the binding. In addition to physical and mental exercise, a Seer candidate is trained in advanced magic techniques. A particular focus on personal control is crucial, considering the Order has no desire to give someone prone to violence access to raw power.

What can a Seer do?

In addition to their ability to wield Void magic as a weapon, they can manipulate it in other ways that benefit the general public. Destroying Nightmares is always a Seers primary duty. Still, they are also often called in to clear an area of Void corruption. A little-understood phenomenon, Void corruption tends to occur in populated areas and acts as a beacon for Nightmares. A Seer can absorb and neutralize the corruption at their own expense. They can also 'see' Void energy, appearing as a kind of smokey aura, which helps them find problem areas or address concerns of corruption/possession.

Some Seer facts

The tell-tale sign of a Seer is the solid black sclera, resulting from their tie to a Nightmare. Black stripes/spots in the sclera are typical in corruption or possession cases, but only Seers have solid black.

Even though many Seers were previously criminals, they are almost always received with respect. Regardless of their past deeds, people recognize the altruistic sacrifice they've made by becoming a Seer and honor them for that. On the flip side, most Seers are understandably received with an equal amount of fear.

Seers cannot comprehend or cohesively communicate with their bound Nightmare while awake, getting at most snippets of violent imagery or projected emotions. They are also plagued by violent nightmares when they sleep due to their subconscious trying to process the foreign presence in their mind. The more a Seer's mental barriers deteriorate, the more the Nightmare can torture them inside their own head.

While they are given combat training, Seers are adamantly encouraged to stay out of active combat as much as possible. They are under strict orders to not use their Void magic unless against a Nightmare or Void-related emergency. They are too valuable to risk on the front line, and using their Void powers speeds up their corruption (and thus, demise) too much to just use them recklessly.

Regarding our dear MC...

Take everything you just read about Seers and throw it out the window.

MC is an entirely unique, never-before-seen case. To start, they never underwent a binding ritual. As far as the Order can tell, MC's Nightmare has been there at least in a cursory sense for their whole life because it has chosen to be there. MC's sclera went black when it finally bonded with them (age depends on MC's background but from 8-11 y/o). It was an entirely painless experience for MC.

MC is the only Seer who has been able to actively communicate with their Nightmare in any capacity. The fact their Nightmare introduced itself and keeps a running commentary on what MC is up to during their waking hours is seemingly inexplicable. MC doesn't suffer any nightmares due to The One's presence, either, and is instead able to interact with a dream manifestation of them.

The MC shows no signs of possession and seems to suffer no ill side effects from the One's presence or from using Void magic. They are also the most potent Void magic user the Order has ever had. This penalty-free relationship has allowed them to be the only Seer to hold the position for more than 8 years.

The general public is not aware of pretty much any of this, however. The official story is intentionally vague, saying that the MC is a prodigy and ends the conversation there. They're somewhere between a myth and a legend to the general public, and the majority would not recognize them in person. The MC is under strict orders not to reveal the truth of their situation unless they deem it absolutely necessary. This is mainly for their own safety. After all, just because the Order trusts them doesn't mean the rest of the world will.

In short, the MC is very special. You'll have to play the game to find out why.

About Hunters of The Twilight Order

What is a Hunter?

A Hunter is a specialized member of the Order's main military force, highly trained in martial and magical combat and tactics. Their primary function is to suppress Nightmare and Void-related violence to allow for a Seer to safely end the engagement, as well as to serve as a Seer's protector and right hand.

They put themselves in danger so that a Seer doesn't have to. However, they are not seen as expendable or as shock troops. Instead, they are provided years of highly specialized, rigorous training to ensure they survive the impossible odds they're frequently up against. As a result, hunters are, without exception, the most effective and impressive fighting force on Yereth-Shai.

Who can become a Hunter?

Anyone, so long as they are willing and survive the training. Hunter backgrounds are incredibly varied, from noble to urchin, but all of them give up their old lives for the sake of the Order. Most candidates are given over to the Order young and spend near their entire lives as members of the Twilight family.

It should be noted that orphans make up the largest demographic, as the Order provides food, lodging, education, and eventually a salary for life. For a child with nothing, it's often the most stable option they have.

What can a Hunter do?

In addition to killing virtually anything with appropriately nightmarish skill, Hunters are known for being brilliant - if unconventional - tacticians and skilled generals. Many a monarch has tried to buy themself a Hunter with a laughable pittance of a success rate.

Hunters are also gifted with a unique soul-bound weapon upon graduation. While these weapons are not strictly sentient, they have a sort of will of their own and are inextricably part of their owner. This bond gives a magical boost to the Hunter's natural prowess, in addition to acting as a powerful channel for their own magic. Soul-bound weapons cannot be used to harm their master. In fact, most cannot even be touched without their master's permission, causing grave injury to the individual attempting. These weapons cannot be broken and, if lost, will find their way back to their master. A Hunter also takes their weapon to their grave, as it will decay upon its master's death.

The forges of Twilight Order are the only place to create these weapons, and the technique has never been shared outside of Order smiths and enchanters.

Some Hunter facts

Hunters almost always outlive Seers simply because, as dangerous as their job is, their powers aren't slowly killing them. As such, there are a lot more Hunters in the Order than there are Seers.

The mass majority of Hunters will never be paired with a Seer. Bodyguard duty is reserved for the elite. The Order takes excellent care in choosing these pairs, and transfers to a different partner are rare. Once a Hunter is assigned to a Seer, they are expected to stay together until one of them dies.

Most Hunter-Seer pairings develop an unshakable bond, so much so that Hunters that lose their Seer struggle to function as well with a new partner. As such, a Hunter who has lost their Seer will return to regular troop duties, often as an officer. Their career as bodyguard is over.

That said, if a Seer needs to be neutralized, it is traditionally their paired Hunter's job to strike the killing blow. While being a Hunter is usually a lifetime career, those who have had to kill their Seer can retire from service. The Order is not unsympathetic to their trauma.

Regarding our dear Mira...

Mira is unique in their own way, though not to the same extent that the MC is.

In Mira's case, they genuinely are a prodigy. They've been with the Order since they were a child and took to the training like a fish to water. Their proficiency is precisely why they were paired with MC - who better to protect the Order's most precious Seer than their most skilled Hunter?

Mira is also special in that they have four soul-bound weapons. No touchy.

About The Twilight Order

The Twilight Order is a neutral faction that pays no homage to any nation but demands fealty from them all. It was formed for the sole purpose of defeating the Nightmare threat, and they have stayed true to that through the decades. Members of the Order are strictly forbidden from meddling with politics unless it furthers their mission. The faction itself takes no interest in the rise and fall of kingdoms outside of keeping their funding secure.

The Order is given a begrudging kind of respect on the global politics scale. Many people view the Order with suspicion, especially considering the number of secrets they keep and how they pointedly disregard whatever laws suit them. However, no one dares rise against them - not just because the Hunter army could decimate a country, but because they're the only ones who can tame the Void.

Though thankfully most governments are content to leave the Order alone, it is a delicate diplomatic balance, so long as they stay out of the political sphere.

Some relevant facts about the Order

Once you are initiated into the Order, you leave your old life behind. Each member takes on the surname 'Twilight' and is encouraged to completely sever ties to their old life. This rule is less strictly enforced with members who have been with the Order for a while. It's common for commanding officers to look the other way if their subordinates exchange letters with their original families. So long as the individual isn't compromised by these engagements, it's quietly allowed to happen.

The Order takes a similarly vague approach to romantic relationships involving its members. Physical relations & romance are not forbidden, nor is marriage or attempting to start a family. However, if such a relationship compromises the participants, it will be condemned, and those involved are punished. Duty above all, for the sake of all. No exceptions.

#THIS IS REALLY LONG #i'm basically edging on incoherent at this point in the day so hopefully this made sense #i was typing whole wrong words towards the end of it :')#Anonymous #answered #TTO: Main Tag #TTO: Lore #TTO: Answers #Mira Twilight

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joezworld · 3 years

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Conspiracy theory for this world - since powered vehicles always come to life, whereas sentient rolling stock is rare in most of the world, Walt Disney invented the peoplemover so he could have public transit without having to account for the needs and rights of sapient vehicles in his proposed EPCOT city?

Oh that's not even a conspiracy. (Except for Disney)

How to make vehicles non-sentient has long been the wet dream of a lot of governments and big organizations. The ability to not have to pay wages for a massive battleship/oil tanker/locomotive are very appealing, and many, many attempts have been made to build craft in a way that are "non-sentient".

It very rarely works, but still, they try.

It's actually why a lot of naval vessels are named after geographic places as opposed to human names - for a very long time, it was believed that giving them non-human names would make them less likely to be built alive.

This is of course utter horseshit, and actually has contributed to a lot of the human-machine divide in a lot of country's navies, as the official stance of US Navy until the 80's was that they never built a vessel intending for it to be alive, which meant that a lot of ships either had serious underlying issues about being "wanted", or were generally not treated that well.

(Of course, at the end of the day, the most navies did deal with the issue and commission the vessels anyways, albeit not always without faults - USS Iowa was notably a raging bitch for most of her life, in no small part because she was immediately given the rank of Rear Admiral straight out of the shipyard.)

This attitude even pervaded some non-naval institutions, as while the USAF treated most of their jets like normal people, NASA had a notable divide between its air- and space-craft fleet and the human employee population after the start of the Space Shuttle program. (The Apollo program didn't involve many sentient craft for obvious reasons) This divide worsened after the events of STS-51L and STS-27R, and the Shuttle fleet basically kept to themselves out in Florida, ignoring most of NASA unless they needed to publish a paper or something. Some catastrophically bad KSC administrators in the early 90s cemented this opinion, and a lot of the more 'interesting' things that happened in the shuttle program in the 90s and 2000s occurred without NASA's higher-ups knowing.

Of course, that's a very America-centric viewpoint, and a lot of other countries don't do that - Japan being one notable country, instead treating their new Naval Self Defense Force ships like any other human. The Norwegians are also very good at this, as the largest ship of their postwar navy - The (former) German Battleship Tirpitz - is a major believer in the "nurture" side of the "nature vs nurture" argument, and considering that she's been in the Norwegian Navy since the 40's, she kinda gets to make those decisions. (Without going into a lot of detail/another long tangent, her older brother Bismarck was violent and fanatical and Tirpitz... wasn't. She personally puts a lot of stock into how the different Kreigsmarine fleet yards treated the two when they were being built.)

Oh yeah, this was supposed to be about Disney, wasn't it?

Walt Disney actually had no qualms about including sentient vehicles in his Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. He was a noted railfan for most of his life, and employed many vehicles in all capacities across the Disney Company - in fact, EPCOT, and all other Disney parks are specially designed with wide paths specifically to allow vehicles to enter the park.

That being said, the Peoplemover ride itself was designed for its vehicles to be non-sentient, however it wasn't for any nefarious or conspiratorial reasons. While Disney's Monorail fleet at least has over 100 miles of tracks to run on, the Peoplemover is basically a captive loop, with one station and no track to the outside world. Putting a sentient vehicle in the system would be cruel at best. Thus, the WEDway system was used.

The WEDway system is basically a floor-mounted motor drive system for public transit applications, and as such, doesn't have sentient (unpowered) rolling stock. This solves a lot of the moral issues that come with building captive systems like peoplemovers and subways, as it allows for the loop to be built as a cheap self-contained system instead of one requiring more expensive outside connections.

#ask response #disney #wedway #sentient vehicles #sentient vehicle headcanon #background info #sentient boats #boat headcanon

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daikini-in-the-twilyhtmist · 3 years

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Oracle of the White Rabbit

I was recently quite excited to learn about the newest Matrix movie, which was kind of weird for me, as I haven't been much into tv & movies for quite a while now. To my surprise, it was the soundtrack to the preview that immediately captured my attention - almost more then the preview itself... and then it got stuck in my head - for DAYS, on repeat.

**Cue the Morpheus voiceover: "What you know you can't explain, but you feel it.... You don't know WHAT it is, but it's there - like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."** Yeah, that song was dead set on getting my attention.

When I finally got rid of it, I started realizing a few days later that I understood it beyond the surface meaning; and basically, I decoded the story that it was telling - it turns out to be all about right NOW. Is it prophetic? Subconscious social engineering? Quantum entanglement between the life and the art, so that they mirror and reflect each other? Who knows...

It appears to me to be a sort of trigger, or a reminder of what to do when the time comes, of what you NEED to do - and yes, I realize that this sounds very MK ultra secret agent-y; but it is what it is. I assumed it was probably just a message for me, but then I had 2 separate YouTuber's basically confirm the message in their own unique way, and then supplied additional info that is... quite compelling and pertinent to keep in mind, and utilize. So I'll link those two vids below the song decoding portion, but please watch them as they have some VERY helpful info in them - especially the 2nd half of Naughty Beav's vid, the Alba Weinman part. Anyways, here's the song with lyrics, and the decode I got for it:

https://youtu.be/YE3ZXm92CJ0

Preface: The story overall is describing the multidimensional aspects of the human being, and how certain "controllers" have manipulated the general population into thinking that we are only ONE SINGLE aspect (i.e. this linear 3D realm template of a human) of our various extended selves - and have waged war (and still are) to maintain that control over us to keep their positions power.

Song: White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

ONE PILL MAKES YOU LARGER AND ONE PILL MAKES YOU SMALL These “pills” are alternate dimensional perspectives - the actual embodiment of them from a larger and smaller POV - Annunaki are generally around 10-16 feet tall, and the Fae are considered to be tiny little elemental beings; BOTH sizes make you visit WONDERLAND though! You can SEE & FEEL that there is MORE beyond just this vessel and life viewpoint, more to YOU that goes on to other places where this particular body-ego cannot. AND THE ONES (pills) THAT MOTHER GIVES YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AT ALL The world perspectives and programs installed in our parents are for a different agenda, time and place - they've since expired and are therefore useless to us... those POV's just don't do anything, except stagnate you. GO ASK ALICE (<your inner child, direct connection to Source Creator) WHEN SHE'S 10 FEET TALL (<in her Annunaki 5th dimensional or above form) Oh yeah, I'd LOVE to see you try and argue those belief systems with THAT version of her/YOU, that'll be fun! Good luck with that, BwahahaaHaahaaa!!!

AND IF YOU GO CHASING RABBITS This "You" ISN'T YOU - it's a hypothetical scenario. As in: If YOU were part of a group of dark, nefarious beings, who CAN'T timeline jump to higher realms on their own, but wanted to... wouldn't YOU chase those 'rabbits', to sneak in after them, (or somehow piggyback on them) to go thru the (portals) tunnels that they naturally create? Well... wouldn't you?!!! AND YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO FALL These beings know their time is limited; as the energetic frequencies of the earth raises - LITERALLY - we have to ELEVATE with Earth (or die, as it’s not compatible); but they can only FALL since they cannot follow us - their heavier energies & choices aligned with that vibe basically anchor them down. When the Earth sheds those lower energies, they appear to “fall’ - Earth rides a sine wave up and down in a continuous cycle; right now the rollercoaster is ascending. TELL 'EM A HOOKAH SMOKING CATERPILLER HAS GIVEN YOU THE CALL Say it with me: COVER STORY!!! So just tell them that you've contacted extraterrestrials, or "Ashtar Command" in a higher dimension, who relays "guidance" to you while you're in a channeling state of mind... exchange your religious/guru worship programming (it’s SO last year) for an unvetted channeled source to worship and obey blindly instead. Pick your poison, ‘cuz dying is fun (whether that be literal, spiritual or otherwise).FYI: I am anti-establishment regarding religions; your connection to Source Creator is meant to be direct & personal, always growing - those outside things are GUIDEPOSTS for consideration and participation when you deem it useful. Not necessary, though, and CERTAINLY not mandatory... they can be helpful though, nevertheless. CALL ALICE WHEN SHE WAS JUST SMALL No doubt they WOULD try to contact you while you were young and vulnerable (and they might have already) - train a child up in the way they should go, and all that. It applies whether it be physically done or in the astral/dream state - it's also prime alien abduction time, in both cases, too: it happens most often around the 3-10 years old timeframe, generally. **Alternatively, this could mean that YOU need to recall your inner child/younger self, when you were more pure - and RECONNECT to (the true you, prior to life’s enforced programming) yourself from there, as a means of counteracting and recognizing any false “messages of light”.**

WHEN THE MEN ON THE CHESSBOARD This is the Masonic, Illuminati and other controller group factions (alphabet agencies included) - The chessboard is primarily associated with the Masonic lodges, though, like the ladder - it's their way of bypassing the middle path (opening the 3rd eye, spiritually evolving through kundalini awakening and such), but still attempting to climb up to 'higher planes'... through magickal rituals and workings of one sort or another, I think. The Sun and Moon pillars are on either side, the battle of fire and Ice. THEY are the ones that "play the game" with humanity, as it were, and “set the stage” on the gameboard in many ways.

It’s like this in their art and iconography...

But it’s like THIS in the physical body structure, see:

Side Note: I learned this and wrote it down/drew it up by watching and following Lavette's channel on YouTube - her channel is under this (her real) name, so if you want to understand & decode the esoteric symbology and all that, check her out, she has a wealth of knowledge to share... it's great stuff!!!

Anyways, moving on with the decode...

>> when the men on the chessboard << GET UP AND TELL YOU WHERE TO GO Or where you CAN'T go, or things you can’t go DO - lockdowns, anyone? AND YOU'VE JUST EATEN SOME KIND OF MUSHROOM Or taken some kind of drug, to check out (with alcohol, pharmaceuticals) as a means of coping; or perhaps just a medically coerced and/or forced untested injectable... that shall remain unnamed. (a la Voldemorte) AND YOUR MIND IS MOVING LOW Because your consciousness and/or interdimensional capacities are capped, having been anchored down into lower frequencies due to your choices. ASK ALICE I THINK SHE'LL KNOW Ask your inner child/spiritual connection WHAT TO DO

WHEN LOGIC AND PROPORTION HAVE FALLEN SLOPPY DEAD That's RIGHT NOW, with the media, the actions of the government, corporations & the alphabet agencies - everything from them is WAY out of proportion, (they're self contradicting) and illogical... it's “fallen sloppy dead” is about as literal of a description as you can get. AND THE WHITE KNIGHT IS TALKING BACKWARDS Is this Biden? Maybe Trump? Could be whomever you deem to be our hero, or fixate on as a knight "in shining armor" charging to our rescue, I suppose. AND THE RED QUEEN'S "OFF WITH HER (THEIR) HEAD!!!" The red queen is the sentient A.I. computer located under the airport in Colorado from what I understand... so this could be indicating the weather warfare or DEW, the internet consciousness battlefront, or a whole host of other things that could be directed by that (besides the jabs), which seeks to kill off a great swath of humanity. The Red Queen could also be a means to direct the jib-jabbed peoples like zombies when they're "turned on" like antennas, once the graphene in the injectables does its work. It would certainly explain all the “zombie apocalypse” protocols and policies that have been made by certain corporations and agencies - all of which was done in a serious manner... so here’s that.

So, now THIS is where it gets interesting (for me, anyways).

Every. Single. Time. That I hear this next verse, I hear it spoken a DIFFERENT way, like a glitch that simultaneously layers a different version on top of the other one, so that they are both communicated at once. This is the 'secret key', the ANSWER - remember, this part of the song says: When this & that happens, and when this person and that ‘person’ are acting THIS WAY - THEN:

REMEMBER WHAT THE DORMOUSE SAYS Dormouse - a tiny squirrel-like mouse, that is rather famous for being able to HIBERNATE for EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME - sometimes 6 months of the year, or more, if the temperatures stay cold enough. The lower the frequency, the cooler the temperature, usually. (The Sleeper MUST Awaken! ~ Dune) << This word - Dormouse - transforms into DHARMA. So the verse: "Remember what the Dormouse said" turns into "Remember what the DHARMA SAYS". For more on dharma, see here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma

The dormouse speaks of the head - waking up and remembering mentally; but when it morphs into dharma, it speaks of the heart waking up; and returning to it’s inherent wisdom, returning to the spirit-soul self. So that is the key message that keeps coming thru on this:

Remember what the dormouse/dharma Says: FEED YOUR HEAD-HEART CONNECTION (and stack your dharma)!!! Spiritual GAINS, baby!

The final verse is repeated twice; I believe this indicates that the areas to apply it to are your outward actions here in the outer world, and your inner realm locals: your thoughts and feelings. FEED the CONNECTION on each level, to be and do good, and to stand up in integrity and defend that sacred space on EACH LEVEL whenever it's needed. The mind-heart connection and coherence part is actually mentioned specifically in The Naughty Beaver video linked below, too... but there will undoubtedly be internal emotional and mental attacks that only you can recognize and shield against, or fight back against to maintain your inner calm and wholeness of spirit. The stronger the mind-heart coherence is, though, the higher you vibe naturally; so it grants you a certain level of protection automatically - I feel that's why they push the jab-berwocky so hard through social/economic pressure, and emotional guilt and gaslighting; to block that potential before you ever reach it, so you can still be "hacked", or locked down, energetically.

Feed your head = higher mind = higher perspective. Maintain THAT, then ACT FROM THERE. (Faith without works is dead, yo) See the other two vids below, and thank you for reading thus far. You/We’ve got this - Be Excellent to (yourself and) Each Other... and Party On!

The “Naughty Beaver” confirmation, perspective & guidance on this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHeDnhc8Jfg

The “YellowRoseforTexas” standpoint and confirmation:

https://youtu.be/tmYdSFj3WYE

As a final thought... look how unbelievably FREAKING CUTE dormice are IRL! ! ! ! KAWAII ! ! !

#matrix ressurections #naughty beaver #yellowrosefortexas #white rabbit #spiritual gains #highermind #jefferson airplane #dormouse

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the-odd-job · 3 years

Text

Building Dreams chapter 1 - Origins

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Rating: Mature Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Unnamed Characters, Original Characters Additional Tags: Alien Culture, Dubcon, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 4413

Okay apparently I’m writing this well before I should. The thing I posted previously is the second chapter of this, so here’s the actual chapter one.

They snuck inside, hoping the actual owner of the apartment was too deep in a high grade induced stupor to notice their arrival—or their departure once they’d done what they came here for.

It was nothing illegal, really. This wasn’t officially their place of residence anymore—their room in the Pits was—but it was owned by their commissioner. That legal binding hadn’t been broken yet.

But would be soon, hopefully. There was nothing about this place or this mech they wanted any ties to. They were nearing the one event that inevitably led to a mech’s legal independence, anyway. It was just a matter of time before the mech in the living room of the tiny apartment could lay no claim on them.

Not that he particularly had at any point of their lives.

“–Lord Megatron of Kaon was once again caught in a heated debate with Optimus Prime of Iacon at the publicized Council meeting. We’ve all heard the arguments on both sides a million times, haven’t we?” the entertainment screen droned on, the channel turned to some manner of talk show. What a waste of time.

But that was all their commissioner did or had ever done, wasted his time away. The chair he was currently sitting in had its back turned to the open door into the hallway, and the brothers used that as an advantage to the best of their ability. They weren’t built for stealth and silence, who here was, but with the volume of the show turned up so high, it should mask the sounds they made pretty well.

Like always.

“Carriers this and carriers that—as you’re all well aware of, Optimus Prime is still campaigning for the demolition of the Housing system. What should be established in its stead? Equality for all? How does that help our species? No, he doesn’t have a replacement plan! As always, Lord Megatron called him out on this, and in a surprise move, Lord Starscream of Vos actually backed him up. Imagine that, the two of them united in something! For a mated pair they sure argue a lot—and if that’s in public, how much worse is it in private?” Laughter from the screen, both from the host and the audience present in the studio. Sideswipe huffed to himself, only to get glared at by Sunstreaker. Yeah yeah, keep quiet. Get the last of their things from their old room and beat it the pit out of here before their commissioner ever got any wiser they’d even visited.

It was kind of funny, though, how easily you could tell you were in Kaon just based on the kind of entertainment that was aired. It wasn’t that there was never anything critical of Megatron, but in this one thing most of Kaon seemed to agree with their leader, and thought the Prime was nothing but a bumbling dumbling.

Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker by extension? Or whoever was the extension of who or if it was just the In-Between, anyway, they stayed out of politics. That was a thing that only brought more stress on you when you needed to argue with anyone who had differing opinions to your own. So tiresome, no thanks on that.

Although he could kinda agree the Prime was a little dumb. At least the things he said were dumb. And the whole scandal with his so-called mate… Yeah, there was something just wrong with that mech. What the pit even drove him to these things?

Alright, end of opinions, right there, or else he’d find himself a political activist or something. Dumb Prime, Megatron calling him out on it, the end.

What mattered more than the artificially created problems Cybertron had—really, why do anything about a good thing that worked already?—was them and their little life. Maybe it didn’t matter to anyone else, but that was what life was about. Taking care of yourself, standing up for yourself, making it out there in the cold, cruel world… Or something like that.

He liked to think they’d gotten pretty far already, as Sunstreaker opened the squeaky door to their old room as quietly as he could. Once it was parted enough that they could fit through, they stopped to listen—but there were still just the sounds of the show, nothing from the third occupant of the place. “So they’re there, both trying to sway the Council, Optimus jabbering on about ‘freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ or something like that—did you stay awake listening to him? I sure didn’t. And Megatron comes in and points out the obvious: we need the breeders! Where are you going to get a newspark from otherwise? Out of thin air? By miracle of Primus? ‘Hey, big guy downstairs, would you be so kind as to send me a newspark, I really need one’? Not happening, is that?”

Alright, so what had they still left behind? There was Sunstreaker’s old art pads and art books on equally old datapads. They were carefully picked up and subspaced while Sideswipe quietly opened the subspace containers embedded in the walls and made sure nothing was going to get left behind. Some of the stuff they were taking and had taken with them was nothing but junk that they threw out to the nearest trash chute, but dammit their commissioner wasn’t about to get any of it, junk or not.

It was the principle of things. These were things they’d acquired on their own, with their credits or their wiliness. They belonged to them and no one else.

Unless someone picked them up from the junk piles on the lower decks, but if a mech was crazy enough to wade through that mess, then pits, they had deserved whatever they found.

But really, most of these things just weren’t worth anything.

Once he’d checked through all of their containers and Sunstreaker had looted their secret stashes—because sometimes that was the only way to keep more valuable things from addicts —they slipped from the room as carefully as they’d come in.

Or thought they did. In the gloom of the hallway, there were two red optics staring at them. Sunstreaker froze in place the same Sideswipe did.

“Are you leaving?” their commissioner asked quietly, voice a little staticky as it always was with this mech.

Ugh. Why couldn’t they have just managed to come and go unnoticed?

“Pit yeah,” Sunstreaker growled at him.

It was impossible to tell if their commissioner was sad or not, his field was always just a fragging mess and nothing else. “To the Pits?”

But they knew this thing. He didn’t like the Pits overmuch, and he definitely didn’t like that it was where the brothers had found a livelihood and a home.

Sideswipe could’ve sworn most of it was just seeing them succeed in something, even if only in a limited capacity. Getting rich with Pit fighting… Yeah, not happening.

But making ends meet through winning matches? Doable, if you were good enough.

And they were.

And they didn’t waste every credit they earned.

It was an argument they’d had a million times before. Sunstreaker didn’t do more than rev his engine in warning. And it was a warning. They’d taught themselves how to fight through blood and dents and more blood and dents. They knew what they were doing by this point, at least for mecha their age. They were better than most of their peers, even if they weren’t about to get to champion levels anytime soon.

Most fights weren’t fair to begin with, but it would be especially unfair against a mech who could barely stay on two pedes. One punch and he’d be down—and anyone who knew Sunstreaker knew he was perfectly willing to throw that punch.

Then again their sole remaining commissioner didn’t exactly know them, so maybe he thought there was some sort of affection or respect that would keep them from decking him.

There wasn’t.

“Out of the way,” Sunstreaker ordered once their stalemate had gone on long enough. “We’re fragging leaving.” And not coming back.

“You’re not yet mentored.” Mentored, legally independent, same thing.

But bad wording. “You’ve never done a damn thing to mentor us,” Sunstreaker hissed, taking one step forward. A clear threat. “Or did you totally miss the bit where we had to raise ourselves because you were too busy wallowing in your misery?”

“I stayed,” their commissioner argued with a shaking voice, although Sideswipe couldn’t have told what made it shake. Emotion or high grade?

“All the good that did!” Sunstreaker argued right back, his voice raising like it often did when they were caught in situations like these. It was doubtful the neighbors would even bother to see what the ruckus was about, anymore.

And there was a lot of bitter resentment there—and this might be their last chance to air any of it. They sure as pit weren’t planning on ever seeing the face of the damn mech again.

So Sunstreaker chose to do just that. “We had to practically live on the streets anyway, because you sure as pit weren’t looking after us! It’s a fragging miracle we didn’t need to whore ourselves out just to get enough fuel to get by, and what did you do? Sat here all day every day, on your fragging aft, trying to drink your problems away? What’s even so sad about your life, the slagging fact you were stuck with us? You commissioned us!” his brother alternatively growled and straight up yelled.

Was it a fair rant? Not really.

Was it well earned despite that? Sure was, if you asked Sideswipe. He got it, it was tough to lose one of your best buddies that you had planned to mentor a sparkling with, and then have that topped off with your second best buddy just taking up and leaving because none of them apparently knew how to handle any of their issues.

What excuse was that to neglect the life you had paid to create and supposedly committed to mentor into maturity?

Or maybe they were just really slagging selfish and should’ve gone easier on the mech—that had taken credits they’d earned just to spend it on more high grade. Oh, they’d learned real damn fast to hide that slag, or spend it on necessities right away so there was nothing to even steal. What did it matter if they had enough fuel to even stay online, as long as he had more high grade to drown himself in?

Sideswipe didn’t think they were the more selfish ones here, but he might’ve been a little biased.

Their commissioner was shaking, but it was still impossible to tell why exactly. “I–”

“No,” Sunstreaker cut him off with a violent lash of his arm, his sharpened claws inches away from scratching the fragging drunkard. “I’m not listening to your fragging excuses. Out of the way.”

Damn right.

When their commissioner didn’t move fast enough, Sunstreaker’s arm flashed forward, his servo closing around the mech’s faceplates—claws digging into his helmet. There was a muffled sound of protest, then a scream when Sunstreaker simply closed his servo, crushing and tearing their mentor’s face off, protoform deep.

His vocalizer was still unharmed when Sunstreaker let go. His victim dropped into a graceless heap on the floor like the fragging piece of scrap he was, sobbing, bringing his servos to a face that wasn’t there anymore. There wasn’t blood, only the sparking of severed wires and gouged, sightless remains of optics. Crushed plating, scratches.

Sideswipe made a face, but stepped over the weeping frame on his brother’s heels. This… Was a death sentence. There was no way their commissioner could afford repairs, and it was unlikely there was any spark kind enough around to pay them for him. He’d starve into stasis in his bleak, lonely apartment, and one day someone would come to see why he hadn’t paid his rent, find his frame in stasis, and send it to the scrapyard. No one would bother fixing up a random mech that probably couldn’t even pay back for it.

He’d die as alone as he’d lived. Justice? Or, “That was kinda over the top,” Sideswipe commented once they were back in the hallway.

“He had it coming,” was all Sunstreaker grunted in response, setting their pace towards the exit.

Sideswipe thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. Not like they would get in legal trouble for it either. This was Kaon. It was every mech for themselves under the dark cast by the first deck.

So, whatever.

They made it to the outside of the residential underbelly of a tower that probably rose somewhere into the sky up above, but that here was nothing but an oily base for wretchedness of so many kinds.

At least they were free of it, now, even if it hadn’t quite happened as Sideswipe had envisioned.

Back to the Pits with them, then, which some would’ve just called a downgrade— but for them it really wasn’t. They had a room just for themselves, fuel, occasional maintenance, and even more occasional chances to hose themselves off instead of just trying to wipe themselves clean. It wasn’t a steady living, but they made it work.

They transformed onto the road and drove through the shadowy streets that no one bothered to light properly. That wasn’t the case everywhere on the lower decks, though, and as they neared their arena, the lights turned brighter and more numerous until they made it to the center of activity surrounding the arena. It was almost as bright as the day of the first deck in this section of the underworld.

Definitely an upgrade.

They drove to the arena’s secondary entrance, transformed back to their bipedal modes, and entered the building. Here there was more to gloom to be found, and more dirt, grime—stains you didn’t even want to know the origin of; dents on the walls, floors, and even the ceiling. Nothing was clean, nothing was in full repair.

But that was the Pits for you. Really, it was just a part of their charm.

The mecha down here didn’t look much better than their surroundings, and they knew they weren’t exactly exceptions. Oh, they tried to take care of their looks, but so did almost every other sorry sap around.

It didn’t work too well for anyone, aside from some of the administration. Those you could recognize when you saw them walking about. Rich bastards—relatively speaking, most of the time. No one down here could compare to the wealth of those who could afford to live in the upper towers.

“A groon until my match,” Sideswipe commented as the reminder popped up on his HUD. “Wasn’t yours one fight after that?”

An affirmative grunt.

“Time to kill. Let’s go watch the matches and make overtly judgmental comments about everyone’s techniques,” Sideswipe grinned, flicking his claws to urge Sunstreaker into following him as he took the turn towards one of the arena gates. Not like they could really go up to the stands, but you could see at least something through the floor level gates, too.

Together they chose a gate that didn’t have more than one other mech observing the fights and went to lean against the thick bars. There were no impressive fights going on this time of the day, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to learn from observing others.

Even if it was just in the way of ‘geez, I’m never doing that myself’.

“Ugh, the green one’s footwork is garbage,” Sideswipe snickered. The corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth twitched in a near smile.

He’d get the damn mech smiling yet, before his match. That was what he was here for! Be a menace that brightened his twin’s day by being all lovable and slag. He was lovable, wasn’t he?

Sunstreaker was eager to tell him that no, he wasn’t, he was just lucky they were twins or he’d have booked it a long time ago. But, see, Sunstreaker was smiling when he said that, because he couldn’t help himself once Sideswipe found the right buttons to push. It was perfect! And only took him a few seconds, see. Pretty good, if he said so himself.

That still left all the other seconds of the groon to get on each other’s nerves, to the point where they annoyed the third spectator into leaving. You know, instead of each other.

Twins.

“My time!” Sideswipe announced once it was minutes until his match would be called. Still together, they made their way to the right gate, he picked his weapons—twin swords, as he preferred—and entered the arena proper once the gate rose to let him through.

The lights were bright enough to blind, here. Not one drop of energon would go unseen because there wasn’t enough light. Everything they did would be on full display.

Sideswipe grinned, that particular bloodthirsty grin, and nodded at his opponent. The mech was bigger than him, but then almost everyone was. Oh, he wasn’t small in the grand scheme of things, but in Kaon he was.

Came with not being able to afford big enough upgrades to reach the sizes of most other Kaonites. But that was fine, he made this work too.

He went to prove that much both to the audience and his opponent. He was smaller, but that meant he was faster with less mass to move around, and more agile with his lighter armor doing less to restrict his movements. Play your strengths, make up for your weaknesses, all that. He’d danced this same dance thousands of times before, even if the choreography was never quite the same.

The other mech was brandishing a mace, and if that wasn’t a devastating weapon if it landed proper hits. So, don’t let it land proper hits. Sideswipe could’ve never put the same amount of oomph behind the swings as the bigger mech could, but as they moved, it became obvious enough that there really wasn’t that big a skill difference between them. A good match for the audience, not so much for them. Uneven fights where you had the upper hand were always better for finances.

But that just meant he’d need to work harder to come out on top, and preferably without too severe injuries, too. One thing he did have on his side—the rarity of frames at least a head shorter than everyone else. There was really no getting used to fighting mecha his size when you faced them so rarely.

Meanwhile, he was intensely familiar with fighting mecha bigger than himself, because basically everyone was that.

It tipped the odds in his favor just enough, this time around. His opponent couldn’t judge his speed right. Sometimes he thought Sideswipe was slower than he really was, other times that he was faster. As many hits as glanced off of Sideswipe’s armor, leaving minor injuries behind, only one hit him in the side in full force.

Hurt like a bitch, that one, and sent him flying off to the side pretty spectacularly. He landed on his pedes though, only briefly made the mistake of instinctively bringing a servo to his side, and was ready to dodge out of the way when his opponent tried to finish things off. Not like he hadn’t landed his fair share of damage, himself. Some were pretty bad, too.

Don’t get cocky. That got you beat down into the arena dirt. He was supposed to be better than that by this point.

The roar and stomp of the crowd thrummed through his lines along with the excitement for a victory he tried to push down before it could distract him—and managed, enough so that when one dodge under the mace’s swing saw him in position to sink one of his swords into the other mech’s chassis, he wasn’t too distracted to see and take the opportunity. He had to get the frag away from there right after because that mace came right back around, but the injury was pretty debilitating by Sideswipe’s judgment. Damaged internal components that were actually important, that sort of thing.

Don’t fragging dare get cocky.

Just a little more. He could do this. If nothing else, his opponent would succumb to his injuries with time, even if Sideswipe couldn’t carve some more on him. Playing it safe wasn’t like him, though, so he didn’t hang back to wait around for time to win the fight for him.

That was what made him good at this. The showiness, even if that sometimes meant not doing the smartest, or at least, the most cautious thing. The spectators loved that. They wanted a real fight, every time, and if Sideswipe could deliver that, frag, he would.

It didn’t cost him, this time. He got hurt a bit more, but he also got to hurt a bit more, and although none of that damage was really severe enough, it piled on top of the existing injuries until this one time his opponent couldn’t keep his footing anymore and fell, onto his back, into the dirt.

Sideswipe took the chance it was to close in. The mech tried to still fend him off, but just couldn’t anymore, not before Sideswipe’s sword pressed snugly against his throat.

It wasn’t a death match. There wouldn’t be a kill, this time.

But had he gone through with that last attack, that would not have held true. Everyone knew it.

“Yield,” his opponent said, grudgingly, but he got to walk away with his life. Did that make him lucky, or just someone who now had their life, sure, but no credits to their name?

Not Sideswipe’s problem. He grinned at the mech one more time before he turned his back to him and lifted his sword to the cheer of the crowd.

Credits. They always needed those. They needed to fuel, they needed to pay for the repairs they couldn’t perform themselves, they needed tools for the repairs they could do on their own—their room wasn’t free either, they had to pay to use it. They needed to maintain their looks even somewhat. Cloths, solvent, sometimes even polish.

Expenses, expenses, expenses, no matter how frugally they tried to live.

Were they ever going to dig themselves out from the gutters, or would they always live on pede in the sludge of the streets? Everyone tried to get out. The vast majority never succeeded.

But they could dream.

His side was wonderfully caved in, armor uncomfortably pressing against his jarred and misaligned internal components, and that was a little too much for them to fix. Sunstreaker accompanied him to the sorry space that worked as the arena’s medical bay—they paid, he got repairs from someone who had probably failed the integration of his medical files. That was what you got down here. No one could truly count themselves a winner if they were stuck in the arenas of the lower decks.

But it got them by. He felt worse by the end of his repairs than he did before them, but the damage warnings had either dismissed themselves or lowered in importance.

Good enough, that was all you could ever ask for.

Sunstreaker was always a pleasure to watch in the ring, too. He was efficient, not one to play around, just a destructive force on a warpath that would see anything in its way destroyed. Did he always win? No. They faced their betters semi-regularly, like anyone else.

That didn’t make Sunstreaker any less as a fighter, in Sideswipe’s opinion. And they got better, constantly. They practiced, took every opportunity to learn more, studied others, studied themselves to analyze what they could do better. They didn’t settle.

His brother’s unbridled brutality won him his match too. It wasn’t just their unfortunate commissioner that got to taste his claws, and whatever other weapons he chose to use, a sword this time. Just one.

The weapons, too. They practiced with as many of those as they could, not just so they could wield them themselves, but so they knew how they were wielded and wouldn’t get caught off-guard by someone who used them.

Maybe they’d never make it out of here, but slag, they’d try their hardest anyway.

Sunstreaker needed a few things fixed by a medic too, but even after those payments, their winnings were enough to get them fuel. The rest would go into savings, this time.

They weren’t the only ones at the energon dispensers they made their way to, and they weren’t all strangers there, either. Sunstreaker never talked a hell of a lot with others, but Sideswipe made up for it like always. A couple of friends, a bunch of acquaintances, chatter, teasing, laughter. Recounting of their more recent victories, lamenting of their losses.

The message alert popped up on both of their HUDs at the same time, high enough in priority that it overrode– Actually, that was the highest priority a message could be.

They shared a glance. There wasn’t much question what this was about.

“I think we just got our test date,” Sideswipe stated out loud at the inquisitive looks they both got for their sudden distraction. There was a chorus of understanding noises after that. It wasn’t a secret they hadn’t reached maturity yet, at least not officially.

But they would have, after this. Independence, not tied to anyone. Do what they wanted with no one able to tell them they shouldn’t. Well, aside from the law and all that. But mostly what they wanted!

“Congrats, you’re about to join the big league,” one of the mecha he wouldn’t quite count a friend yet laughed.

“Yeah, it’s really just a formality,” another shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Just show up, get it done, and that’s it, you’ve got your legalities all sorted.”

“I mean,” Sideswipe said after he consulted his navigation system to see where the address they were given was, and wow, “at least we’ll get to see some high end areas for once.

“We’re gonna look so out of place.”

More friendly laughter. Everyone kept their distance from Sunstreaker, but a servo clapped Sideswipe on the shoulder. “Enjoy it while it lasts! Take in the sights, snap some pics. You’ll be back down here right after.”

“Bring a souvenir, too!”

Sideswipe laughed and even Sunstreaker made an amused sound. “I’ll snatch something from the clinic before making a run for it, that good enough?”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #sideswipe #fic #2021 #breeder au

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c-atm · 4 years

Text

Possessive Protection

“This...This is wrong…”

Connie whispered that to herself as she stepped back, fear and confusion on her face. Holding her broken arm.

“This is so wrong..”

In front of her stood a familiar face, body, build, and damaged attire; a familiar visage all around.

A usually heart-skipping, cheek redding visage. One of charm and a dapper style. A visage that haunted her dreams in the most pleasant ways..

This was not the same, nowhere near it.

Despite the form, the differences were far too prominent. It was ghastly, it’s ‘Steveny’ shape flickering like a flame, ready to burn everything and it was violet.

So violet and viscous.

The purple imposter didn’t look at her at all, his..

It’s attention on the bull-like demon who was slowly getting up after being rammed through a pillar by the purple devil.

“That’s it, rise to your feet. Regenerative bastard”

The slasher grin on his 'Steveny' face and the blow horn pitch put her on edge, as the Minotaur snarled towards the devil, fear in its throat as the purple devil gilded forward. With a roar, the Minotaur charged forward it’s red eyes promising death, each step cracking the tiles underneath them.It stuck forward with a punch towards the devil, it’s fist as big as the devils skull.

On instinct, Connie was prepared to scream in concern.

Only for the sound of ripping flesh to steal that worry for his well-being and replace it with fear of his abilities, as the purple Steven tore the forearm of the minotaur from its body..Before knocking the minotaur across the skull and onto its face,in front of his feet

With said arm..

“Now, a lesson to share to those in hell “ The devil teased, before bringing the limb down the minotaur skull again, like a goddamn mallet. A sickening smash of flesh resounding in the concert hall. He lifted the limb high with a frown.

“Do not…"

and brought it down again…

"Ever.."

And again

"Touch what…"

and again

"Belongs to me!"

The violent, violet demon continued to crack the minotaur head with ruthless abandon, in a pure frenzy. Each strike harder than the last. Bone and smashed flesh scattered along the walls as he beat the long silenced monster. He didn't stop until he felt Connie grabbed his waist.

"Stop, Steven! Please!"

He looked back at her with a bit of a glare.

"Steven?" He tossed the limb aside carelessly, allowing it and the Minotaur body to fade away in a black smoke leaving a gem.

His cold, slithering voice caused her to step back, chilling her heart. So different from the pleasing tone of her beloved partner.

Facing him face to face, staring at his dead black eyes and dark purple pupils froze her spine and stole her breath.

"I guess that's not completely wrong." He chuckled. Looking at her holding her arm, he stalked towards her.

"You're hurt, boon."

"Boon?" Connie inquired trying to push down her fear as she stepped back. She soon found herself between a pillar and the violet demon. She shivered as he moved his face close to her neck breathing in her fright with a teasing chuckle.

"Who are you?"

He smirked at the steel in her voice. "Me?..I'm what 'he' hides from you, my boon."

She trembled as he lifted his hand to her chin and ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

'So cold like the arctic, It feels as if I'll freeze to death staying by him.'

She moved her face away from his grip, sneering at the doppleganger. "What do you mean, 'you are what he hides?' "

His eyes narrowed as he gripped her chin tightly. "Hey now, You should be appreciative to me, fledgling. I did save your ass…" He smirked as he looked her up and down, lingering at her hips a bit. "Cute as it is."

*WHAP!*

The sound of Connie slapping the demon reverberated against the hall.

"Disgusting Demon!" She roared, her eyes blazing in anger. "I don't know who you think you are to speak to me like that, but you are NOT MY STEVEN!"

He laughed cruelly but respectfully, licking the blood off his lip. "Ooh, I understand why he's so taken with you .That beautiful blazing spirit to match that body….You're definitely worthy to be my boon." Giving her a hungry grin, he kissed her deeply.

Connie screamed through the kiss before pushing the purple beast back with both arms.

"Bastard!" She swung a fist at the devil who dodged the blow. She attacked again with her left, recently healed, fist only to have him grab her hand and pull her close

Black eyes met violet, fiery rage met possessive obsession.

"Is that how you treat someone who healed you? That's fine, it makes me want you m-"

The purple demon voice started to strain as he backed up. Pain on his face as his hands gripped his head and the purple began to flicker and dim.

"HOW DARE YOU!?" The familiar voice of the Steven she knew, ranged out of the demon. "YOU DARE TO DISRESPECT HER!?"

"I protected and healed her in your stead HUMAN! HOW I take my reward from my boon, my property, is my business...Besides it's not like you don't feel the same way!."

Connie could only watch shocked, fear and embarrassment on her face as the purple demon fell to the floor on all fours, clawing at the marble scarring it like a jagged knife as he argued in agonizing pain with himself.

"SHUT UP!"

"It's true!!"

"Get out!!"

"You lust for her!"

"I SAID LEAVE, VIOLET!"

Connie covered her mouth as she watched Steven lift his head and thundered out as he clawed his face, ripping the purple flame off his visage and tossing it to the side.

"S-S-Steven?" Connie cautioned as she took a step forward, seeing him back to normal, breathing hard on all fours, quivering a bit.

"My..My lady."

That voice as tired and broken as it was shook her heart as it always did...Connie took a step forward only for Steven to raise his hand.

"Hold on, My lady." Steven grunted as he turned to the purple flames watching it form to a ghostly purple spectre of himself.

"Violet." His voice was full of hate as he stood in front of Connie protectively.

“Steven" Violet responded as his translucent and ghostly figure floated in place, a smirk on his face. "What do you think you're doing?" He pointed his finger tauntingly. “I know you don't think you're gonna keep me from My Boon in some misguided act of protecting her."

"There's nothing misguided about keeping My Lady safe...Especially from the likes of you." Steven stood in a low stance, his hands in front of his chest in a clawed stance.

"Don't you mean...'Likes of ME?" Violet grinned, his purple eyes staring straight into Steven's pink ones, before taking one glance at the witch among them. "We're one in the same, My boon."

"Stop talking to.."

"Are you serious?" Connie watched Steven's shoulder tensed ever so lightly. "Steven?"

"I'm his truest, darkest feelings made sentient and given form...You can call me Violet, My Boon."

"SHE ISN'T YOUR BOON!!"

"But she's your 'Lady'? Possessive, aren't we…"

Steven growled ready to strike, when a calming hand rested on his shoulder.

"Steven…"

Steven turned to look at Connie, a flash of shame in his eyes, before turning forward. He breathed deeply and relaxed his stance. "Come on Violet, enough playing." His glare stood as he held out his hand.

Violet kissed his teeth."'What do you mean? No games are being played."

"What's your objective here then, What are you trying to accomplish?"

"....You are useless..as a familiar" Violet growled " You fail at protecting our possession far too often., I refuse to trust you with My boon…:

Steven didn't say anything in response. His fist clenched in anger as his other words hit his heart.

"He protects me just fine, Monster." Connie spoke from behind her Steven, staring defiant at Violet as she stood beside her partner

"As long as I'm present, yes." Violet retorted " All those victories, all those rescues..They could have never been achieved without darker designs. Without me being present, Boon."

"I'm just as capable without you." Steven answered as he cracked his fingers.

"Allowing something to break our things shows capability?!"

"How about you stop talking as If I’m an object." Connie Intervened, the crest on her wrist glowing.

"You are!" Violet barked "You are my Boon, Meant to benefit me and enrich my life for my protection power and service.. That's the basis of our contract.!"

"Is that so." She smirked as she thought of what Violet just stated. "Then fulfill your part of the deal Violet and heed my command. RETURN TO STEVEN!"

Before Violet could fathom what was going on, he found himself being pulled towards his more benevolent half. He couldn't fight it for long at all.. Her command was absolute and felt the need to see it through right down to his core..The need to get her favor.

He hated it, the feeling of being controlled even by her, the lack of freedom annoyed him. At the same time, it made Violet that more obsessive over his boon. Unlike Steven, who wants an equal love with the witch, he would be happy with her completely submitting to him, to stay untainted by unworthy hands.

To remain his Boon and only touched by him.

"Remember,..I AM HIS THOUGHTS GIVEN FORM, MY BOON! EVERYTHING I SAID. EVERYTHING I DID. HE HAS THE SAME CAPACITY AS WELL!"

Violet gave a howling laugh as he was pulled towards Steven fading out of sight.

Steven grunted and shook his head, the feeling of rejoining with Violet in such away was a new experience, a worryingly one as well. His confrontations with Violet had never been in the waking world until now. He didn't have time to think it over as He felt two arms wrapped around him and a head on his chest.

" My. My lady-I-"

"You're warm.." She gripped the back of his ripped shirt and smothered her face in his mid. "Stars above, you're so warm….It's a lively warmth."

Steven could only hold her back as she began to quiver and his shirt began to dampen.

#witch connie #su au witch and demons #twisted love #Witchy #Dapper #witchanddemonau #demon steven #connverse #connie maheswaran #teen connie maheswaran #teen steven universe #older characters #demon hunter #DSDUKE #Meku95 Connverse Steven universe AU #violet #Full demon steven #Action #Black Writers

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hello--mrs · 5 years

Text

Steven Universe Podcast: Battle of Heart and Mind

I don’t usually do this but I said I would for the server, so here we are.

This episode included Rebecca Sugar, Kat Morris, Joe Johnston, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, and Ian Jones-Quartey.

· The episode starts with the rainbow worm in Steven’s dream, who is voiced by Deedee. This is the last homage to the princess references in the arc. The worm is from the Kyanite colony and was brought to Homeworld by Pink, which Blue allowed, but then Pink released all worms in the ballroom. Rebecca mentions this links with Pink’s desire to be free by releasing animals from their colonies.

· This specific princess reference was to Jasmine (in Aladdin) opening the cage and allowing the birds to fly free. It was also a reference to Pink’s love of animals and wanting to set them free, which isn’t out of character for Steven either.

· For Diamond Days, they picked the most common princess tropes for Steven’s time on Homeworld and made this experience alienating for him.

· Rebecca states that the Diamonds are meant to exist as a body- the inspiration for the ship. Pink is the Id, Blue and Yellow are the Ego, and White is the Super Ego. This is represented in Change Your Mind where the collective mind experiences embarrassment when the Id demands they enjoy something.

· Kat admits that they came up with the new outfits by continuously emailing each other with ideas. Rebecca said they considered everything but there were some concepts that they really wanted, for example, Rainbow 2.0 would have a scarf and a jacket. It was important either way that the fusions would notably have Steven’s clothes and the gems. However, the fusions would hint at the new forms and Pearl didn’t end up having a scarf, but she did have the jacket. Later, McKenzie asked if the jacket was a throwback to Bad Pearl and Rebecca confirmed that it represented her independence.

· One of Garnet’s new designs included transparent glasses and Peridot’s glasses in the shape of a star. Kat came up with the idea for the shredded shorts and star pockets for Amethyst.

· All of the new outfits represent how the gems have changed and learned from Steven.

· Rebecca mentioned that Pearl has been ‘playing the field’ and ‘exploring who she is’, which started in Last One Out of Beach City.

· Lapis has gold accents on her new outfit to match the real-life gem stone. Kat said that Rebecca really wanted the sandals for Lapis and it makes for comfortable cosplay.

· Joe said that he enjoyed a lot of Garnet’s new designs. Most ideas were based off superheroes and had a more ‘knightly’ aspect.

· They confirmed that they tried Peridot’s new design with star hair but it was too much. Rebecca said that the glasses already change her silhouette and expose her gem more.

· Peridot also has boots this time. Before, she had socks because she used to wear limb enhancers.

· Mary Poppins and Bert were the inspiration for Rainbow 2.0. These concepts were made by Joe around 2-3 years ago. Sunstone was a newer concept.

· Rebecca said that all Garnet fusions can break the fourth wall, but with Steven, it would break it to give advice to children. The suction cups are also a combination of Steven’s shield and Garnet’s gauntlets. When creating Sunstone, Rebecca wanted her to look like a toy that you could stick in the back window of a car with suction cups.

· Alistair James auditioned for Rainbow 2.0 by doing an impression of his grandmother with a British accent. Rebecca said that Shoniqua was perfect and she knew immediately that she wanted her for Sunstone. She sounded exactly like how Miki Brewster pitched her.

· For Obsidian, they’d had her concept from the very beginning since she was shown as the temple. It was a hidden in sight visual that would eventually pay off.

· Obsidian’s sword is in the ocean, which is a part of the temple. It’s first seen in Bubble Buddies and seen again in Ocean Gem when the ocean is cleared. The sword design changed over time to ensure that all the Crystal Gem’s weapons could fit into the design.

· The earliest inspiration for White Diamond is traced back to the beginning of the show. She was inspired by the film ‘A Story of Menstruation’, which was made in 1946. It was a film by Disney played in schools to teach children what to expect in menstruation, and the narrator’s voice was a kindly older woman. Rebecca said that she found the designs really interesting and cute.

· From the film, the inspiration came from a scene where a woman cried into her arms but in the reflection of her mirror, she straightens up and starts smiling before going out dancing. The narrator says: “Don’t forget that people are around you and you’ll have to be more pleasant if you want people to like you”. The scene passes by and it ignores that fact that the woman was crying earlier, because she’s now seen being ‘correct’. This is the voice and the feeling that she went for with White Diamond and Homeworld.

· Homeworld is inspired by Busby Berkeley, and White is inspired by Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfeld Girl and Nell Brinkley drawings, all within an era where women were seen as beautiful pieces of furniture. Rebecca states: Women are like lamps, smiling and there, part of the scenery. It all originates from the idea that people thought it was lovely and seen as an escape from reality.

· Those early inspirations were also used for the wall gems- the idea that people are in the background as if turned to stone and function solely as architecture. These faces we see in the architecture are gems and that’s their function.

· White has always been associated as a mother, especially in terms of her storyline with Steven in this arc, and how gems are viewed as her children. This arc wanted to begin to explore her relationship with them.

· Rebecca says that White’s way of thinking is that she is everyone and everyone is her. She considers herself the default white light that passes through other gems, so when she sees gems absorb other colours from that light, she considers it a variation of her but lesser. In that way, she has no identity at all because she considers herself just light. She feels that people can be turned into her because they are all the same.

· Rebecca also stated that White is wrong about how she views the world and herself. It’s an antithesis to Rose’s journey- expression and repression. She lives in a delusion that everything is fine but it isn’t.

· Matt and Ben said that the whole episode was balanced by ensuring that every single character got their moment. It was an accumulation of ideas from over the years that they tried to fit into one episode, such as Amethyst greeting Jasper after she was uncorrupted. They felt they did everything they wanted to do before they left.

· All past episodes, especially for Diamond Days, were made to build up to the scene with White and Steven where she pulled out his gem. Mirror Gem is the first time they introduce the concept that a sentient gem can be trapped inside an object and that object is Steven. They’ve been planting hints that Pink may be trapped inside him ever since.

· From the beginning, they’ve wanted there to be doubt that Steven was his own person and have the audience question if Pink/Rose could still be alive. Even when the gem was pulled out, they still wanted the viewer to doubt if he was Steven. They planted enough hints that the viewer would think it could go either way.

· Between the crew, the hottest debates were about the storyline between Steven and Rose/Pink, about who Steven would be if they were separated. One of the most recent arguments was about Steven’s gem self and the fact he was devoid of any feeling, that there was none at all. That emotion came from Steven.

· Rebecca had planned the split perspective scene since the start of development and storyboarded it early in the process. It’s still from Steven’s point of view. Ian noted that if the show wasn’t completely from his perspective, it wouldn’t work. The split perspective was to also represent how torn and disoriented Steven was in that moment.

· Pink Steven is him as a default. If you take away his personality and emotion, he is empty. He’s been separated from his humanity and all that’s left is power. There have been nods to this in the past by showing how his power is greater because of his humanity and his capacity to love.

· Ian said that Rebecca has always had the idea of the final confrontation being about Steven’s relationship with his powers and that connection showing who he really is. Steven wants that human side of him, even if it slows him down, because it’s what makes him who he is.

· The scene of Steven returning to himself was originally written for episode 10. It was going to be a part of Giant Woman where they establish fusion.

· Rebecca confirms that James Baxter animated the scene where Steven reunites with Pink Steven. She met him by doing a drawing for his daughter’s birthday.

· The fusion sequence with the two Stevens was the ultimate princess trope- a rotating dancing scene specifically boarded by James Baxter. He completed the whole sequence himself apart from the inking.

· Ian mentioned that he wanted the uncorrupted gems scene for a long time. He said they always knew the arc would come back to the corrupted gems as that was the original conflict of the series, but now they finally get to see it through.

· On top of that, Ian went through every single episode that had a corrupted gem and designed their healed versions, while Rebecca added some of the quartz designs. He mentioned that the longer they were in their ‘monster’ form, the more they will look like that form, even when they’re healed. That’s why several of the healed gems look more like their original designs.

· Rebecca added that Ian helped with the fusion designs and their sequence, as that was a wishlist moment for him. He wanted Steven to fuse with all the gems in a row.

· Ian said that he had been most excited about Rainbow 2.0 and that Colin Howard had done most of the groundwork already.

· Rainbow is they/them and he/him, and Sunstone is they/them and she/her.

· Rainbow 2.0 is mixed with Pearl’s properness and Steven’s penchant for making jokes. Rainbow 2.0 loves to make puns and is a throwback to Steven’s puns in the earlier series. In the episode, Ian also came up with the idea that RQ 2.0 could ride their umbrella and have a rainbow shoot out of the end- a reference to Pearl being able to shoot lasers out of her spear.

· With Sunstone and Rainbow 2.0, they wanted to be able to show common traits in Sardonyx. The break in the fourth wall comes from Garnet, but loving to hear themselves talk comes from Pearl. Steven enables the both of them to embrace their silly sides.

· The ship foot falling on them was a slight reference to Monty Python but also a reference to the giant foot mentioned in Arcade Mania.

· Rebecca stated that the song Change Your Mind was not written for the show, but a personal song she wrote while fighting for the wedding arc. She was hesitant at first to include it.

· Change Your Mind isn’t for the end of the Steven Universe franchise but for this arc, Ian mentions. He adds that even though it was written for the process of including the wedding, it perfectly captures the theme of the show. As a coming of age story, Rebecca notes that this is something that had to happen for Steven to start making decisions for himself.

· Rebecca also admits it has been hard to write for Steven because he always puts others before himself. It’s always about what others want and what he thinks they want. However, he finally comes to a realisation in this arc that he doesn’t have to be anyone else other than himself or pamper to other’s expectations.

· Ian states that this arc was incredibly important for Steven’s development, in terms of who he is, who he thinks he is, and who others believe him to be. Moving forward, everything will be different from Steven’s perspective. There’s going to be more but it will have changed, because Steven has changed.

If I’ve missed anything out, let me know. Hope you guys enjoy!

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groundbreaking-science · 4 years

Text

3: Amplification and Physicality - "The Potential of Earthlings"

"All of us here used to be enemies - I hated Goku in the beginning, too. But when there was a common enemy, we started to team up because we had to… And before we knew it, we became friends…"

This chapter is dedicated to my Uncle Krillin; the strongest - and bravest - full Earthling I know.

For many years Earth has been regarded as a useless planet. Aliens have known of and visited us over the millennia, only treating our home as an outpost, a hiding place, or a place of exile; their scanners reporting the planet as unworthy of investment. Earth does not have a remarkable concentration of tritium or oil, and barely any katchin ore to speak of. There’s no homogeneity in flora or fauna to make a large-scale farming project profitable, and our seasons swing to the point unprotected humans need to migrate to stay alive. Many civilisations thought it best to leave the chunk of slimy rock to the barely sentient creatures that called it home and move on to easier wins.

But they didn’t truly hear what their scanners screamed, that clear message hidden in the woeful statistics on geology and organic chemistry. Earth does not have a worthwhile abundance of one particular resource because we have a modest abundance of everything. Earth’s richness is in its diversity. Life on Earth is short-lived but hardier than elsewhere in the Universe because of the adaptability we require to cope.

The hostility of Earth’s ever-shifting environments created evolutionary pressures on mind as well as body. The ability to innovate in fields like construction and medicine enhanced our survivability far faster than any generation-to-generation chain of genetic mutations could, and so our society has learnt to greatly prize the traits of inventiveness, lateral thinking and the ability to dream. Combined with our isolation from the Universe at large, Earth has developed a series of unique technologies; from Capsule Corporation’s dyno capsules and time machine to the seemingly simple home comforts of boba and pizza. (In fact, Earthling cuisine is highly sought after. I hear ramen-runs are now made to Earth, with cups of dried noodles and flavour packets going for a fortune in the central galaxy’s curiosity stores.) Where once our planet was dismissed as a bubble of primordial scum, our potential Universal standing is rising, and Earth is on the cusp of being welcomed to the Galactic Commonwealth.

More nefarious entrepreneurial minds have other ideas, however. Why trade when you can own outright? Earth would be unprofitable when scoured of human life, true, but what if that Earthling creativity could instead be subjugated and utilised? Further, an Earthling's power level is minuscule, making our planet perfectly conquerable by the type of ‘real estate’ teams previously led by Freeza. I and my Saiyan-blooded friends and family are noted as far stronger and willing to help, but we have no guarantee that our potency will pass to our descendants. I have thirty years left in me to aid in planetary defence, my daughter not much more than fifty. The sharks are circling.

But there is hope. Our first encounter with a Saiyan - on the same day my father and I found out our extraterrestrial heritage - also taught us a useful fact. Whilst able to both manipulate ki with intent and raise his genki somewhat, the Saiyan relied entirely on his scouter (his heads-up-display eyepiece) to find ki users. What’s more, he judged his chances in a fight purely on our reported ki output at rest. He thought he was sure to defeat us. A terrified and briefly overpowered child headbutting his solar plexus taught him otherwise.

Whilst Saiyans were never renowned for their general knowledge, they do have impeccable intuition for battle. My Uncle Raditz believing he had the upper hand wasn’t bravado but a fair assumption based on previous experience. As such, a competition of strength based purely on scouter readout was just as valid as a full-on brawl. When our own little band ventured out into the galaxy we found the same attitude - along with a reliance on technological augmentation or genki-boosting techniques like transformations. Most other species of human were unable to sense, amplify, or suppress their ki.

You see, the elemental diversity in the very rock we stand on and the climate we swim through is built into our peerless creativity. Earthlings may not have the most magic, the longest memories, the rawest strength or the greatest genki, but dear God have Earthlings learnt to overcome their natural shortcomings to literally punch above their weight. Never underestimate the value of being underestimated, I say, as time and time again a fall from hubris has been in our favour.

Knowledge of us is spreading now - whispers of the amplification technique have reached elite warriors and a multitude of planets are developing their own takes in dojo equivalents and (regretfully) military facilities around the galaxy. But it remains that Earthlings are currently the species with the greatest capacity to use field ki. Any chancing shark wishing to do you harm will still have to judge your strength on scant knowledge. They will be wary, fearing a sharp punt on the nose or even irreparable damage to their gills.

It is with this context firmly in mind we proceed to the third chapter where we cement the basics of genki amplification, field ki manipulation and appling ki to raw physicality - the techniques that form your unique planetary heritage.

3.1: Suppression

Warning - The following section contains exercises that could cause hypothermic-like symptoms, fainting, and with great incompetence, death. The reader proceeds at their own risk.

Prerequisite reading and exercises: 1.4 (on centring, posture and breath), 1.6 (on vibrations and oscillations), 2.1-2.3.

The technique of suppression is front and centre in this first section because I believe it to be of utmost importance. I hope many readers will want to take the skills I’m teaching into planetary defence, and with that hope comes a frustrating truth - most Earthlings will need a lifetime of dedication to reach the power levels needed to tackle the very strongest threats.

As of writing, the enemies we face rival the powers of Gods; in some cases they are Gods. Our strongest fighter cannot hold a candle to them, being fifty times weaker even at their maximum. I am over a thousand times out. Any tactical advantage we as a planet can bring to the fight needs to be seized upon, including knowing when to run and how to hide to live to fight another day. I hope to all that is sacred in the Universe that with dedication and technique development skilled indigenous Earthlings will reach those heights without off-planet assistance. But until you are ready, suppression, rather than amplification, should be your first thought.

Now that I’ve sufficiently terrified you with the truth of the situation we find ourselves in, let us begin.

Ki, if you recall, has two components: a ki particle acting as a vehicle and an (average) ki energy assigned to the particle. Suppressing your overall genki will require a reduction in both or one of those outputs. But the most fundamental processes in the body are not easily fooled. The centre knows the body needs a consistent level of ki to function and will therefore endeavour to assign a minimum level of genki to the particle, only dipping below that minimum as the centre depletes. Instead we must change the number of particles leaving the centre - the flow. The body resists change in this, too; those with the keenest memories will recall that the number of ki particles leaving the centre per unit area, the flux, is a constant (at least in my model). So whilst we can’t stem the flow of ki easily, we have one more variable available to us - the surface area of the centre.

In reality your centre has no physical surface, being a point in your body from which ki emanates. How then, can we change properties of something that doesn’t exist? The processes that govern ki are peculiar in that a ki-user’s intention is understood and interpreted in good faith. The very act of picturing the centre as having attributes like a changing surface seems to map well onto whatever unknown law of the Universe governs ki particle flow.

Picturing the centre as a ball as we did way back in 1.4 will now pay dividends. If you can imagine squashing down the ball-like centre, you can reduce the hypothetical surface area, in turn triggering a reduction in flow and therefore ki overall. This does not come for free - from 1.8 we know that changes in ki output take effort, a mental strength and concentration which is not limitless. Despite the inherent difficulties, there is a helpful trick of the imagination we can use to see out the technique.

3.1.1 Folding the Centre

Sit comfortably, steady the breath, calm your mind and attend to your ki flow - a process that should be second nature by now. If not, I implore you to return to section 1.4 to save yourself wasted effort here. Now, picture a hollow ball, like a perfectly spherical balloon. Let the ball settle over your centre until they’re aligned. Breathe and shift your body until your imagination is able to project that ball in a steady position, until your centre and the ball become one.

Then - and this is the neat trick - imagine twisting the ball in half, as you can a balloon. You’ll be picturing two smaller balls sitting side by side (or one on top of the other). Finally, imagine one ball passing into the other and edges overlapping until you're left with the one ball. The number of ki particles you produce will drop in an instant.

Drop by what? Well, curiously, that depends on your imagery. A naive view would see creating two balls as a halving and so output would drop by a factor of two. A more mathematical treatment would show that the surface area of a ball will drop to a quarter when the radius is halved. Someone more vividly-minded picturing how the air in the balloon increases in pressure and stretches the skin when twisted may believe the value somewhere in between. You may have yet another completely different intuitive take, some more realistically correct than others, but remember it is your expectation and imagination creating the intention.

My point is, there will be a way to visualise this change in centre such that the image is simple to hold in your mind and simple enough to repeat. A repetitive halving (or quartering) is a simple concept to picture. A nuanced sliding scale of centre size is not. These easy-to-visualise states act akin to harmonics, the stable states we discussed in 1.8 and 1.6. With practice your centre will understand your intention and play along - with the caveat that it is ever-ready to pop back to a more natural state of rest.

If you are fortunate enough to be learning with a partner, they should be able to detect your drop in ki as a drop in auratic pressure, the ki in your aura fading as what remains is summoned back to your body to help keep you ticking. At a quarter to a half ki you probably won't feel any ill effects for a long while. If you're sensitive to the moods of others, maybe you'll find your ability to detect those changes a little stunted - given your aura has less energy available for that social contact - but otherwise you'll be safe.

Should you succeed in this fractioning, the first danger you will encounter is “snapback”. In the case of ki, what goes down must come up, and the moment your concentration slips your centre will take the cue to relax and snap back to its original flow rate. The return is usually accompanied by an extra pulse to cleanse your body of foreign ki which can have unintended consequences. If you are performing a delicate technique with reduced ki, for example, the effort you're putting into finessing the fine intent will blow outward and overwork, sometimes obliterating your target. Startling someone is one way to induce these dangerous results; eliciting any strong emotion is another. At this early stage, where you don't quite have a handle on techniques, I recommend either working without your centre being manipulated or releasing every technique before relaxing your centre, lest you blind, burn, or otherwise maim yourself.

Even with this two-stage release there can be repercussions. Remember - genki keeps your body in step too, and would have compensated the best it could with the reduced flow. During release there will be a momentary overcompensation in your homeostatic functions because of this coping mechanism. Maybe your heart skips a beat, you flush in temperature, you experience a dizziness or a moment of nausea, all due to the overcorrection and subsequent swing to normality. Further, remember genki performs social functions, and thus your sensation of warmness or hostility towards others may spike when returning. Even those without trained ki-sense may detect this abrupt shift and become unsettled.

3.1.2 Folding to Infinity

When you can reliably hold the first reduction in flow, repeat the fractionation process. You’ll need an increase in effort to do so, to the point you may feel like you’re back at square one, but stick with the expectation and imagination processes. The second drop will soon lock into place. Once you’re comfortable, repeat ad nauseum. Remember to also practice the release from each stage.

Two to four folds in your aura will deplete and your body will require more genki than it’s being fed. Your body will register that you’re not making the wisest choice and so the effort required to fold will skyrocket, just as if you were twisting a balloon and feeling that tense resistance grow.

Pan has told me that this is the point she sees even the most attuned students making a rookie error by holding their breath. Now - ki will leave the centre with you breathing or not, but as we know ki is encouraged away from the centre by forms of flow. By holding the breath, genki builds and stagnates inside that imaginary ball you've created and sneakily runs its functions, hoping to give you the impression that genki is not leaving your imagined centre as you willed. But don't be fooled! If you find yourself suddenly dizzy with others saying how red in the face you are, then you best take a breath.

Folding will fractionate genki until the drop in ki pressure each time will be difficult to discern. To remove that last detectable spark of life you will have to imagine your centre vanishing to nothing, and genki fading out with it. This is far easier said than to perform. At small enough sizes the degree of folding makes the tension the centre is under excruciating. That final vanishing will take a further burst of effort.

At this final collapse any lingering wisps of ki will be quickly expended by your ki-hungry body. You will become a void in the world and the background ki will flood in. The usual ripples your ki-signature generates on the ki-field will dissipate and your unique rhythm will be undetectable in ki-sense.

To push this exercise further look to perform this suppression during exercise and particularly while anxious, as this will be the physical and emotional state in which the ability becomes of paramount importance. Speed, then, is another aspect to work on. As the effort required to reduce your ki flow decreases, so will your need to invoke powerful imagery to achieve the same results.

To the outside observer, the extinguishing of ki is an instantaneous or staggered collapse in the world, those elicited memories making up someone’s ki-signature popping away from thought. Even those who are not actively training their ki-sense will feel a lack of presence. For those who have read ki as a “sixth sense” for their entire lives, witnessing a living being without ki is anywhere from mind-boggling to outright disgusting. Pan describes the sight as a stomach-churning unease, like seeing a headless body somehow walking and talking, and is a feeling you never fully get over.

A note on absolute suppression

There is an added danger here: ki-starvation. Genki is required by the body to maintain allostasis. Going without will eventually force your body out of sync and allostatic processes will begin to break down. The body knows the seriousness of this predicament and so will reverse as many flows as possible, attempting to drag ki back to your vital organs. Blood will be lost from the extremities in this process which leads to a condition much like hypothermia. If you stubbornly continue to suppress despite the warning signs, blood will eventually be lost from the head too, leading to hypoxic symptoms such as reduced oxygenation of brain cells, confusion, and finally unconsciousness. At that point you will not have the awareness to control your genki and your flow will snap back, consciousness returning soon after. In almost all cases unconsciousness will occur long before the body begins to break down and so you may believe there is no keen danger here. But if the reason for your suppression was to hide, snapback could lead to your discovery and subsequent death.

In summary, those very first signs of ki starvation are similar to hypothermia and important to act upon.

The hierarchical symptoms of ki-starvation are - - Paled skin - Muscle weakness or stiffness - Spontaneous to sustained shivering - Slurred speech, mumbling or teeth chattering - Impaired coordination - Slowed breathing - Confusion - Drowsiness - Weakened pulse - Loss of consciousness

Unlike in true hypothermia, the symptoms of ki-starvation cannot be remedied by warming the body, although rubbing your hands together or applying layers so your body needs to cool itself by forcing blood to the extremities and skin again can alleviate symptoms for a time.

3.1.3 Tolerating Ki-Starvation

Building endurance to this uncomfortable state therefore is a worthwhile skill to develop. To practise, lower your ki to zero for minutes at a time and observe your body. Stop when the symptoms begin to manifest to a strength that keeps you from holding a conversation. Then leave practice of suppression for at least a day to enable your recovery. Eventually you will build your tolerance from minutes to hours. Two hours of suppression while running on a treadmill and upon release performing memorised kata forms part of the minimum requirements Pan insists upon for those looking towards Heroing and front-line planetary defence. This isn’t an arbitrary choice of test. Many of our battles last less than two hours and we’ll ask those with talent but lower power levels to lie in wait, ready to deal with threats tangential to the main adversaries.

Completing the technique of suppression needs one final puzzle piece. This element is such a guarded secret that we officially kept it from our own children, but in the interest of a full education I am now going to share the secret with you. If you are training your children - which despite me warning you to refrain from I am sure a significant fraction of adults are - you may want to keep this tip from them to preserve your own sanity.

During suppression the body is starved of the genki required to regulate normal function. In most situations however, there is a ready replacement available - the wandering auras of other life forms. We learnt in 2.5 how to pass and how this is a progression of a natural social ability. It is possible then to suppress your own genki and let your body absorb the genki of others. Your desperate body will enable pass and draw that much needed generic instruction from any scraps of friendly genki it can find.

Anyone searching for someone suppressing their genki should learn to look for those little eddies that indicate life and flow, but this time as a subtle depression in the background of ki as the ki is re-purposed. The ripples, though, are at least an order of magnitude fainter than a ki-signature would be and take time and patience to find. Using this searching technique is thankfully nigh-on impossible in the heat of battle, but worth-while when you need to find - and sneak up on - mischief makers.

And that’s why we deliberately neglected to instruct our children fully for a number of years. Teaching Goten, Trunks, Marron, Papayaman, Pan and Bra how to suppress their ki was imperative - anyone looking for us to cause trouble would hone in on them and, as rambunctious as those kids in aggregate were and remain, they would not be able to handle themselves against some of the more dangerous threats in the Universe. But a child that can fully camouflage themselves in ki can also camouflage themselves against their parents too, and whilst we did not care to know exactly what they were doing at all hours (children do need their privacy after all), detecting kids attempting to sneak out was as simple as waiting for their vanishing ki and honing in on the child-shaped hole. Pan and Bra eventually pooled their knowledge and worked out the trick to letting in ambient ki ("turning see through", they said) at age 11 and ten respectively. Trunks and Goten, well…

Pink House (my home) in Satan City, January Age 797 with Trunks and Goten.

Trunks: I can’t believe I’m admitting this on camera… Let’s get the record straight - for those that quote this story back at me, anyway. I’m a man of Science, but from an early age I was convinced beyond all reason that my father had psychic powers. I mean, I did believe in magic and still do, I know magic users personally. But my father? I was an idiot.

Gohan: He’s not the gifted type?

Trunks: You tell me, you’ve known him longer. As far as I know he wouldn’t spot a spiritual awakening if it was doused in hoi sin, dancing naked on a table and spoiling for a fight.

Goten: I believed your theory for a long time, too. Only thing that made sense as a kid.

Trunks: Exactly. So, why? Well, we learned to hide our ki early. Dad taught both of us.

Gohan: I was surprised he was so keen to teach you suppression over more powerful moves. I should have known he wouldn't have been forthcoming with the full knowledge.

Trunks: Right. As soon as we’d mastered suppression at what - Four? Five? I barely remember learning - we thought we'd have the upper-hand against our parents, that we could escape whatever mess we'd made and no one could pin it on us.

Gohan: And that wasn’t your experience.

Trunks: Ha, pretty much. Dad could still hunt me down, no matter where I ran off to. Didn’t matter how sneaky I’d try to be, how careful I was slowly lowering and raising back my ki, he'd always catch me and throw me in the Gravity Chamber. It drove me crazy. One particularly bug-eyed afternoon I scanned my entire body thinking Mom had jabbed me with a tracker chip in my sleep. Goten refused to help look for the scar.

Goten: Yeah, because by then I’d grown out of it - figured it was a coincidence. But full credit to you, bro, you stuck to your loopy guns on the magic thing.

Trunks: And you’re still not helping.

Gohan: How’d Vegeta let you down gently?

Trunks: So, not long after my 18th birthday, Dad noticed Bra had gone AWOL and dragged me along on the recovery mission, all to finally demonstrate what I'd been missing. That a small child - or anyone, really - who suppresses their ki carelessly leaves a person-shaped ki-hole in the world, unless they completely let background ki flow through them. It was so painfully obvious I can’t believe we hadn’t noticed. I was such an idiot. Dad laughed for a solid week. Thought it was the funniest joke he's ever told, and definitely the longest. I can't believe you all kept it from us, not knowing could have got us killed.

Gohan: Then armed with this potentially life-saving technique, what did you do?

Trunks: Used it against Bra at every opportunity, of course. It was great to be the magic one for a change, and we drove her and Pan just as crazy.

Goten: Sure, this is a sweet story of a man showing he has a sense of humour and all, but it doesn’t explain Mom. Now she’s a psychic. She says she can’t sense ki, but when she’s fuming she just knows, you know? She could track down your lifeless body from the other side of the world just to rail on you for having the nuts to die before you did the dishes.

3.1.4 Restricting Pass

To become part of the proverbial furniture you will need to switch off the reception of pass. Now, pass usually doesn’t suck up ki as you mosey around - from loved-ones yes, but your body will want to ignore foreign ki for the most part to prevent any intra-body miscommunication. Usually there’s work involved in learning how to receive ki. When you’re low on energy, though, the body is less concerned with the risks of incorrect ki-signatures and will do what it can to stay alive. In this extreme you have to work to stop the process. Think of yourself as a transparency, an emptiness, a statue that does not require life force. Restricting pass is not rejecting ki. Rejecting with thoughts of mistrust, threat and alienness will set up a guard (which we shall cover soon) and make you a literal black hole against ki, the opposite of your intention. Instead let go and feel that ki pass you by. The hypothermic-like ki-starvation response will subtly worsen, which is another counter-intuitive sign that you are on the right track. Ideally, a partner in the form of a practised ki reader will ensure you are performing this part of the suppression correctly.

3.1.5 Amping Pass

Logically then you can do the complete opposite. Consciously increasing the level at which you’re absorbing ambient ki will both continue to hide your ki-signature and extend the time you can remain suppressed. A scouter won’t look for negative ki spots, and a ki-senser scanning long distances for your ki-signature will not be able to discern that tiny eddy, so in particular circumstances this modification to the technique is perfectly sensible. To perform, relax as when detecting ki and let the surrounding ki wash over you. Now smile. You won’t need to do this every time, but a friendly face helps immensely when learning. You’re attempting to welcome the ki around you, to let it understand that you’re present and happy to be worked with. Should the ambient ki trust you as friendly enough it will take to your body’s instruction. Using this foreign ki, particularly when using none of your own, is a dissociative sensation - you’re connected to the world around you and yet feel like your body is not quite yours. You can grow accustomed to this with practice.

Suppression will always be the first nuanced technique I recommend students learn due to its life-saving potential. Although, as always, I hope you never find yourself in a situation where suppression is required.

In the next section we will be learning the second of the Earthling techniques, amplification - both in genki and field ki. These are techniques you will need to perform should your cover be blown, and are the techniques that form the backbone of the rest of the chapter.

next previous first contents ask?

#gohan #goten #trunks #ki #dragon ball #groundbreakingscienceupdate #((It's heeeeere!))#(( A huge thank you to StarBoyGoku for fully betaing this piece and seriously lifting it #the piece sings in places now :D!))#starboygoku

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theamazingsallyhogan · 5 years

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I’ll say this: it was very daring of the SVTFOE writers to go in the direction they did.

Not many light-hearted shows end with the main character committing genocide.

It’s just kinda mind-boggling that the writers made the decision to turn the spells into living thinking beings, with hopes, dreams, families, and the capacity to feel love, anger, and depression, and then the writers didn’t think twice about the whole “get rid of all magic and magical beings” ending.

Somewhere along the way, Star vs. The Forces of Evil became a show about the evils of bigotry, portraying the Mewmans as wrong for not showing respect toward monster races. But the same writers didn’t stop to think that there was a bit of moral conflict in treating the many sentient magical beings in the show as slaves whose deaths didn’t matter even a little bit. Their deaths were actually played off as a joke.

We even got to see one magical being - one who had gone without friends for a most of her life, and had been belittled by her parent for her entire life - say out loud that she figured the universe would be better off if she was dead, and her family with her. Kinda a not-great example for the viewers.

Heck, the show basically ended having established that spells and magic beings were created to be slaves, and it was okay if they all died on a whim that one person had.

The mega-arc they built was over the injustice of bigotry. The finale itself was built around a villain attempting to commit genocide. Which Star stopped by committing a different genocide, supported by Glossaryck and a couple others that said they were happy with a murder-suicide situation.

The writers did a spectacularly bad job thinking this one through.

#star vs. the forces of evil #svtfoe #svtfoe spoilers #star vs. the forces of evil spoilers #spoilers #still better than Voltron's ending #that's the most backhanded compliment I've ever given

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thegooddoctorsthoughts · 4 years

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Amalgamations Of Matter

“Are you okay?”

No, I don’t really think so.

“What's the matter?”

I’m alive and aware, an amalgamation of matter which is capable of placing itself in reality and grasping the finality of its own oblivion.

“Found the rot again?”

Not quite, there's something all too violent to this feeling. It’s the horror of knowing one day I will simply blink out of existence and there's next to nothing I can do about it. Something crushing, almost claustrophobic about how utterly final it is. The entirety of reality as I know it will end with me and continue on long after I vanish.

“You’ve gone all the way to the core of it all haven’t you?”

I was looking for something, can’t remember what exactly. Then I found its root, the core of that thing I’ve come to call my humanity. Vibrant and full of life, a flame of whose manner I put to words in any form that would do it justice. It stands in harsh opposition to the nature of who I choose to be, unrefined and raw, not even the metallic ore dug out of the ground but the rushing of iron through blood, iron left resting in a bog for thousands of years, preserved yet also eroded by time. There is life to it in a manner I cannot describe. I found it hardly acknowledged me at all, only going in search of more fuel to keep itself going, not stopping, not thinking, alive yet hardly living, only concerned with staying alive at all costs even for a few seconds longer. I pitied it in a way.

“You pitied it?”

Why wouldn’t I? It strove only to gather all the nutrients and kindling it could in the area around it, eventually it will break down and burn out. Going from raging inferno to dull warmth to dying cinders and then amongst the ashes of its life and it's time somewhere the last cinder will go out without any fan fair and no heat will ever come from those ashes ever again. It’s life was in all reality slight and realistically meaningless.

“Yet that is the nature of what you are, you are down at your very core human, or at the very least you came from us.”

Do I look like I care? Do you think I give a flying fuck about my heritage, I am conscious, I’ve been given the single greatest pleasure and punishment reality could realistically level upon me, knowing that one day the crude biological machinery that maintains me will break down even if I do everything in my power to maintain it and I will simply collapse in on myself and cease to be, no void, no darkness, no sight, no sound, no thoughts, nothing. A blink from a hospital bed and consciousness comes to an end and I will fall asleep, with no dreams to keep me idle, just a blink that never ends. Perhaps this is hell? Perhaps Limbo? Do you understand? Reality as a concept, the sense of progression, the sense of flow and regularity of it all. The narrative of the concept of reality as we know it you and I and everyone else, means fucking nothing the moment that light goes out. For all I know I am the only sentient thing in existence and everyone I’ve come to care for is simply a construct of matter following similar logic to me yet they at no point are actually sentient, a perfect simulacra, fuck knows most of the people I meet seem to be little more than glassy eyed automotons.

“Well don’t you think you are so high and mighty? What? Is the average person suddenly so far beneath you you hardly consider them aware of themselves?”

Do you have any idea I would give for the ignorance of the average person? Do you know what I would give to be free of this knowledge? So many people live happy lives blissfully unaware of this, or perhaps with the capacity for faith! Oh what I would give to find faith, genuinely, to find a deity to pledge my eternal soul to and have the comfort of an afterlife to work towards. To live well and be successful, to make this world a better place for one and all with the promise of it bringing me to something greater.

“You can still make the world a better place you know, even if it doesn’t promise you an eternal paradise.”

Oh but I am, in my own little quite way, I wake up in the morning in more pain than most people can imagine, my life mired by a silent suffering most can scarcely quantify in their minds. I work to make my life a better one, to make the world I live in better not only for myself but for others as well. I live in the constant fear that this is the only life I and everyone I care about will ever have and because of that I do whatever I can to make this world a slightly better place to make this world a place where people do not vanish into that void or become consumed by the rot long before their time to escape a suffering brought on by the very nature of reality. If there is a god out there, if there is anything greater than ourselves I intend to kill them with my bare hands, to march upon their throne and melt those pearly gates to nothing but molten slag and brandish it as the armor and weapons fit to slay whatever intelligence condemned me and everyone who possesses this level of awareness to this suffering. If there is anyone out there, I hate them for what they’ve done to me. I hate them for cursing me with this knowledge. I adore them with every fibre of my being for twisting me into existence and giving me the drive to hate them. I love them for giving me the time and space to learn to love myself, to cherish the life I have and to give me the determination to want to destroy them. They created me and should I have my way, should I ascend to this sense of immortality I strive towards, should I drag humanity up with me to this sense of godhood and bend the very fabric of creation to my will, I hope any being I curse with consciousness hates me for doing so as well because I will never do it willingly.

“I will be honest...I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, I don’t know if you’re right, but, I don’t know what to say to you.”

Don’t say anything, don’t think, just live, don’t reach whatever insane plateau I’ve reached because there only seems to be down from here yet the only satisfaction from this is to climb beyond the mountaintop and into the heavens themselves. Nothing short of godhood would satisfy me now and all I would do with it is witness reality as a dead husk, with no sentient life in it at all, only glassy eyed machines. Perhaps this is all some great joke. Perhaps I am some vast alien consciousness caught in a machine by my friends outside of this and they will mock me for growing attached to everyone in here because none of it was real. Perhaps this is what hell really is and I am being punished from crimes against reality itself. Perhaps the goal of all of this is to forget and live until oblivion devours me and there is no more consciousness to care whether I lived or died.

“...”

Perhaps one day I will ascend to the godhood I desire, only to create more beings such as myself now so as to have someone to talk to, something to play with, to simply play the infinite cycle as it is now and one day they will rise up and fashion their own godhood from my mangled corpse upon its throne of metal and machinery. I don’t know any more and frankly I wish I didn’t care. All I know is that I’m afraid...and I don’t even know if I should be any more.

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polarishq · 4 years

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Meet PANDORA WATANABE. They are THIRTY-SEVEN years old and hail from CARDIFF, WALES . Pandora embodies the WATER LILY nebula. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is HAYLEY KIYOKO.

Water Lily reminds me of incomplete crossword puzzles, vinyl dust jackets, do you double dog dare me?, dark academia but make it pink, bad posture, the broken spine of old books, no not all shades of black are the same, dog eared pages and margins filled with chicken scratch annotations, Welcome to the Black Parade’s opening G, vodka filled water bottles, and a carefully coordinated Instagram aesthetic.

BIOGRAPHY

The first time Pandora fell in love, she was four years old. Cross legged on the floor of her parent’s living room, she poured over an illustrated copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, using her budding knowledge of letters to try and sound out the words (spoiler alert: she didn’t get very far.) After listening to her try and struggle through the first page, her mother read the story to her and gave Pandora a beginner’s level reading book to try her own hand at. Her bookshelf expanded, yet she still insisted on being read Alice every night for years, until she’d somehow committed the words to memory, until she was able to sound out the words herself from sight and the illustrations started to fade from constant page turning. From there, she discovered hundreds of worlds and went on countless adventures, falling in love time and time again with a new character every week. Thank you, Alice.

The first time Pandora discovered her powers, she was nine years old. Her dad always loved cooking, and more importantly, he loved sharing that with his family. Yet he could never quite master one of his mother’s recipes, a favorite of his since childhood, no matter how much he followed the recipe. It was delicious nevertheless, and he taught it to Pandora the very first time she asked. The recipe card was more for show than anything else, the ingredients written in a beautiful cursive that was barely legible to Pandora’s untrained eyes. But all she had to do was pick it up and look at the ingredients laid out before them, and then she asked, “Grandma put paprika in it — shouldn’t we get that too?” Paprika wasn’t written on the card, but sure enough, a dash of it in the pan and it tasted just as her father remembered. When Pandora was questioned, she said she just knew when she picked up the recipe. The Water Lily nebula appeared on her lower back a few weeks later, looking like skin discoloration to the untrained eye.

The first time Pandora felt her heart break, she was twenty-three. For the most part, she’d only ever retained information from objects she touched. Sometimes it was a bit annoying, but other times it was wonderful. Her love of reading, for one, was certainly amplified when she could appreciate the history of each individual copy she owned. People had never bothered her, but then they did. Then, her father became sick, and none of the magic in the world could cure him. Maybe it was her lowered guard, maybe it was his. Pandora isn’t sure what triggered it. She just knows that when she went to hug him one day, a few weeks before he passed, she was assaulted with grief and fear that certainly wasn’t her own. All of her father’s worries about leaving the family hit her, topping off her already existing sadness over the inevitable. When Pandora went home and cried, she didn’t know if it was for her sake or her father’s.

That first time became a second, and a third, and a fourth; soon, Pandora refused to touch anyone else in her family — not if it meant feeling their grief in addition to hers. Yet her family had always been filled with hugs and kisses, pats on the back and high fives for no reason other than a reminder that they were here. How could Pandora explain her selfishness in not wanting to do any of those? Instead of trying, she turned inward and poured more of her time into reading. Words couldn’t hurt her. They gave her a chance to be someone else for a short spell. To be someone other than Pandora Watanabe — truly a dream. Even at the expense of the growing distance between her and her family.

To be someone other than Pandora Watanabe is to learn fearlessness. Sure, she’s a bit too careless, and yes she’ll do anything if it means getting an adrenaline rush. As much as she loves losing herself in her books, she’s never quite been able to taste the freedom that a main character has at their most pivotal moment. That was something she’d have to seek out all on her own.

The first time Pandora walked through Polaris’ halls, she was forty-three in human years, and had been wearing her gloves for close to two decades already. They weren’t perfect, but they gave her a barrier that held up more often than not. Truth be told, Polaris wasn’t meant to be her destination. By then though, she’d spent more of her life avoiding human touch than she’d spent comforted by it, and the damage between her and her family was irreparable. She’d tried to joke with her mother, “maybe its time I get an education”, and rather than declare that she would miss Pandora too much to see her go, her mother had said, “I think it is”. How could she have said it was a joke after that?

The thing is, Pandora wasn't to do better. Sure, she can hug someone if there si no skin to skin contact, and she can touch anything to her heart’s desire so long as she has her gloves. Sex is great, that’s no lie. Being able to experience your pleasure as well as another’s simultaneously? Mindblowing. But casual touch on a day to day setting isn’t a possibility. If she can get things under control and do better, maybe one day it will be.

INCLINATION

The Water Lily Nebula, while not the most terrifying sounding of celestial bodies, has always had a certain love for knowledge. Due to this, they gift their user with a skill in psychometry — knowledge through touch, rather they want to know them or not. Its strongest with inanimate objects, but this witch or wizard is also capable of learning details of living creature. In terms of sentient beings, rather than learning their history through touch, Water Lily may instead be hit with a mix of memories and emotions from throughout their lifespan. Regardless of if they’re living or not, processing so much at once can often lead to sensory overload for Water Lily, and until they are fully trained, they are not able to control when their touch is in effect.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Luca Ghorbani’s Please Choke.

Better Half: ‘Best Friend’ might be the more commonplace term, but that doesn’t really capture it. This is the one person who has Pandora’s full trust, and the only one that she feels comfortable touching in any capacity outside of the bedroom. They don’t make sense on paper, with opposite interests and contrasting personalities, but Pandora truly does believe they bring out the best in her. Around them, she feels like she just might have a shot at becoming a better person.

Bang Buddy or Bust: The only time Pandora really allows someone to touch her is during sex, but even reaching that point is a climb. This person (female-identifying, because Pandora is a big ol’ lesbian) has become a recurring visitor to her bed, and is someone who Pandora can genuinely say is a friend outside of it. She knows that they enjoy the sex as much as she does, but anytime they mention anything beyond that, it’s an immediate block from Pandora. She can’t imagine having to be emotionally and physically vulnerable on the daily with anyone, though the trust may be close to getting there.

Penned by Jeanne ★

#taken.#student.#jeanne.#waterlily.#water.

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overlyobsessedgaygal · 5 years

Text

Escape

Requested by @yourfreindlyneighborhoodnerd

Patton was escaping. After being locked away in a school lab for years with an evil scientist of a professor he was escaping. He didn't know how he would escape but he would.

Even with blurry vision and a headache to rival the giant footsteps he would escape. He had to make it. Along the bookshelf he crawled, carefully avoiding the line of sight of any human.

These humans were all bad, they were science people, they did experiments. Patton shuddered at the thought. His hand slipped and he had to quickly catch himself.

“Don't think, just crawl,” Patton instructed himself under his breath. It would be silent to the figures below him. “Just keep moving.”

Just as Patton was about to slide down the bookshelf the bell rang causing the tiny to jump. His hands sailed through the air for a minute, trying to locate safety, before they just gave up and went limp as Patton sailed towards the ground.

Patton was expecting to land on the concrete tiled floor and feel his body break into pieces. That's what he would prefer. He didn't want to go back to being in a cage. Never again.

When Patton roughly landed on a soft mound of fabric he felt panic over take him. He was either going to escape or going to die. He would not be stuck here.

He quickly sat up and attempted to take in his surroundings, he had landed on a piled up navy blue jacket inside of a case if some sort. Before the small man could make any moves a textbook was thrown beside him, nearly crushing him.

Patton drew in a deep breath. “Okay, I can get out of here. I just have to wait,” Patton reassured himself as darkness swarmed around him. He watched the last little streak of light vanish with the metal clinking of a zipper closing.

“Just have to wait until the bag opens again. I'm fine.” Patton curled his knees up to his chest so that he could rest his face against them. “It'll be okay. I won't go back, never go back.”

Patton found it hard to resist the urge to rest. Curling up on a thick fabric such as the jacket piled at the bottom of the back would be a luxury, compared to the harsh metal crate of cage flooring he had been subjected to for years.

There was no threat of the professor coming to drag him out and under the scalpel. There was no test to see how fragile his bones were or how easy it would be to squish him. There was just a stranger, a student of the professor, a human. A human who would hurt him again.

If it wasn't so miraculously dark in here Patton would be awake, kept up by the fear of what was to come, but for now he couldn't tell the back of his eyelids from his surroundings. He let his eyes drift close and finally gave in to the primal urge that told him to give in.

The jostling of the bag was soft and almost rhythmic, as the person who held must be very elegant, and Patton heard the lullaby his mother sang him in his head as he drifted off.

Bed is too small for my tiredness;

Give me a hillside with trees.

Tuck a cloud up under my chin.

Lord, blow the moon out, please!

Rock me to sleep in a cradle of dreams;

So that I may slumber in peace.

Tuck a cloud up under my chin.

Lord, blow the moon out, please!

When Patton woke up he immediately noticed two things, it was brighter than it was when he fell asleep and he was still wrapped into the jacket, his hand subconsciously clutching the zipper.

His eyes darted around the room he was in to take in his surroundings. It was a simply decorated room, it held a few pieces of white furniture, a small tv, and a coffee table. Patton was currently sitting on the coffee table with the jacket piled up around him.

A navy blue pot stood next to him, holding the first flowers he had seen since being locked in the lab. A beautiful green color adorned with simple white blossoms. He could smell the scent from where he sat and it reminded him of his home and the years he had sat and waited to experience the sunlight once more.

His breathing came to a stand still as he realised the situation. He had come so close and now he sat here beside a product of nature and accepted that the outside world was still so far.

The human knew he was here, there was no other way for him to have been so carefully nestled on top of the jacket mound unless he had been placed strategically. Whoever had him now was going to have him at their whim. Patton couldn't escape.

Even if he made the jump from the table there was no guarantee there would be an exit. A proper borrower would be able to escape, would have a plan, or even the will to move, but Patton hadn't thought of himself as a borrower in years. He was just a lab rat, an experiment.

He was fated to be stuck as nothing more than a caged creature his whole life. For now he could enjoy the freedom of having a soft surface and the nice smell of nature.

A throat clearing made him shoot up from where he was tangled in the jacket. A human male stood in the doorway, a pair of thick glasses on his face and a professional black polo and dark blue tie covering his torso.

“Hello, I would like to announce my approach as to not startle you,” he announced in a voice that rivaled the professor's in terms of emotion. None at all.

Patton didn't answer, he stared at the human in fear. He may not have a chance of being free but he couldn't do any experiments anymore. He couldn't. “Pl-please, let me go,” Patton sobbed out.

Logan's eyes widened in confusion. The begging was unexpected, although the fear was a natural response. However this person seemed to be specifically scared of being held against his will and Logan felt dread at why that was his first thought.

“I won't hold you here if you wish to go elsewhere.”

Patton crossed his arms to hide the shaking. He didn't believe the human, not at all, but he knew better than to argue. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.

Logan tried to give him a reassuring smile. “You are most welcome. Do you feel up to telling me how you ended up in my bookbag?”

Patton swallowed hard. He was going to tell this human. The human would return him once he found out he belonged to the professor. Patton didn't want to go back, but he didn't want to be caught lying. He drew in a shaky breath and began to tell the story, the real story.

Logan felt his blood boil. A living creature was not a science experiment, ever. It didn't matter that there were no laws put in place protecting this species, they clearly showed enough brain capacity to understand pain and fear.

The way the man in front of Logan kept trembling and had tears dripping off his face proved that he was human. It didn't matter to Logan that he was small, he was a person, a sentient person and Logan would protect him against anyone who said otherwise. If Patton let him, of course.

Patton glanced up once he finished talking, expecting to be grabbed and transported back to the professor immediately. The human was giving him a soft look, it didn't feel even remotely threatening.

“I...I would feel more comfortable if you were to remain here with to keep you safe,” Logan began. He quickly went on to clarify his intentions before Patton could react with panic. “We would not have to be in contact and you could leave anytime you would like. I am just offering a shelter space for your comfort.”

Patton looked at Logan, searching for any sign of deceit in the giant. When he found none he relaxed. He had been carefully removed from the bag and left in a soft, warm jacket. He hadn't been restrained or stuck. The human announced his presence before entering, to avoid startling him.

This human seemed much better than the others. Having a shelter that wasn't a cage sounded nice. Patton looked away from Logan, down at the table. He shuffled nervously as he answered.

“I think I'd like that.”

#sanders sides g/t #g/t sanders sides #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #platonic #romantic #you decide #kaytikittyfanfics

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