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alagaesia-headcanons · 2 months

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When shipping Orrin/Murtagh, do you ever feel the need to just... give in to their alcohol abuse tendencies? I wanted to do a drabble with them but halfway their communication problem turned into retreating, moping and drinking :(

Oooh that idea has a lot of interesting possibilities within it. Of course, it’s perfect for angst, and I think there’s great potential to develop it into a meaningful resolution.

I definitely encourage you to keep going! I don’t feel like the characters relapsing into alcoholism to some degree has to halt the progress of your story, especially when writing Murtagh and Orrin. After all, the ways that both of them made mistakes with alcohol in the past is one of the many interesting overlaps between them. The way their communication issue led them back to drinking is an interesting concept in itself. It’d be a cool approach to illustrate what emotions they’re most vulnerable to and what makes Murtagh feel the need to drink versus what makes Orrin feel it. What parts of their relationship are most affected by these struggles? Do they try to keep it hidden? Do they ever drink together?

That has a lot of potential to shift the situation and explore their dynamic from an entirely new angle. Would Orrin first suggest it, or would Murtagh? How exactly would they interact in that kind of state and how would they feel about it afterwards? That could lead them to reveal or confess things they were avoiding and kickstart proper communication. Or on the other hand, if their drunken distress feeds into each other and makes their pain and misunderstanding even worse, it could make them realize afterwards that they need to deal with things directly before they break something that can’t be fixed.

Alternatively, maybe one or both of them realize what the other is doing without ever seeing them drink. Since they both had past experiences with alcohol abuse, they could be particularly conscious of the signs. Maybe Orrin notices the glint of a flask tucked surreptitiously in Murtagh’s pocket even though he’d never seen him carry one before, or he sees tiny drops of red staining the sleeve of his shirt. Maybe Murtagh notices the smell of Orrin’s breath through the heavy perfume trying to disguise it, or catches him bringing his goblet away with him when dinner is finished.

Realizing that the other is also struggling can spark deep empathy and concern. Perhaps that earnest care and desire to help can overpower the feelings that caused the communication issue to begin with. Or the worry and urge to help make it clear that their own drinking habits are harmful and need to be addressed. It could provide a lot of motivation to open up and work through hard things together once they see how much they’re both hurt by such miscommunications. And breaking their habits and recovering together could ease so much shame and fear and show Murtagh and Orrin the value of support that they’ve never had quite like this.

So much potential! I really hope that was helpful or inspiring in some way, and I hope it wasn’t overbearing or anything. I just adore chatting about ideas for the two of them. If you do finish the fic, please please PLEASE send me a link, I’d fucking LOVE to read it!!!!!!

(If it’s of interest- I haven’t really felt drawn to show them falling back to their alcoholism during their relationship, but it’s more because I don’t tend to emphasize substance abuse in my own writing. On an individual level, I find it somewhat uncomfortable to write in depth, and I’m not fully confident in my ability to depict it well. It’s a very interesting theme and I’ve enjoyed plenty of stories that deal with it, but writing it myself is a different beast I’m not always up for.

Within my own story, I work through the alcohol abuse they demonstrate during canon in the first part and bring it to a resolution before they meet. Orrin overcomes his brief but brutal descent into alcoholism during the first few months after the end of the war as part of his journey to properly process his grief for the loved ones he lost. In my headcanons, Murtagh’s drunkenness was more isolated and extreme incidents, also very unhealthy, but not consistent in a way that led to dependency. That makes it easier for him to overcome, facilitated by the fact that he simply has no alcohol to drink in his isolation. By the time they meet, they both have a resolve to not drink if they can avoid it.

For the most part, they’re pretty good for each other in that way. They want to support the other’s resolve to stay sober and don’t want to undermine that with any temptation, and that tends to keep them from initiating drinking together. (Though that doesn’t always keep them away from other unhealthy behaviors...) I’ve written a conversation between them where they first talk about that part of their past. In a certain way, it helps alleviate some of their shame and fear of judgment to know that they’ve both made similar mistakes. They empathize with that struggle and would never condemn the other for it.

Although, all this has made me consider some ways having struggles with alcohol come back up might play a meaningful role in the story, so I definitely want to give that more thought!)

#even if you dont finish you can still send a wip if you want 👍 id devour it #eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #orrin #murtagh x orrin #mxo #answered ask #good luck writing!!!#these 2 poor boys probably would be the most insufferably depressing drunks to be around lol #thorn would need to get all the booze away and curl up around them to make them sleep it off instead #*simpsons meme* thorn: kids could you lighten up a little?#cw alcohol #ask to tag

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somehowmags · 9 months

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thank you for telling me what happened!! vil criticizing rook's lack of manners when talking to trey seems very likely. im also sure vil has quite literally told rook to shut up before, so if he wanted rook to shut up, he'd quite definitely have already made him do so. and yea, i also don't agree with the absolutely soul sucking standards of the industry vil is in because the damage it can do is irreparable but regardless of how any of us feels about it, vil is very much still adamant on remaining in it. so he abides by its standards. i would never comment on anything, appearance wise, that can't be fixed in a few minutes, regardless of our bond. that is where rook and i differ, but only because i don't have a friend who benefits from the type of criticism rook gives and my friends don't require it from me. i tell my close friends things about me i could not say the same for with an acquaintance, because i can rely on the formers acceptance and understanding. rook is the same in that there are more things he's likely to talk about in close relationships because there is the level of trust that permits it; in which case, is vil's trust in rook's reliable judgement.

rook, if you overlook his morbid interest in breaking the boundaries of beast men, almost always keeps a cordial persona in front of others. yes, it could also just be the byproduct of his purposeful attempt for others to think he is less dangerous than he really is. but i really don't think the man who finds beauty in everything would be arsed to make a senseless comment. the most senseless thing he's done (saving vil) was done precisely because he thought the consequences over (putting the dorm in more chaos, losing his role as VH) and was very much ready to face them in return for his goal. he would never tell you about anything you also cannot fix in under a few minutes-- he knows it's not his place to comment on it, and he knows the consequences of it. observant and mindful is his middle name, so he can most likely tell that you're not comfortable about something personal. he'd likely change the topic, provide some words of advice you could easily ponder on or dismiss, or praise you. he'd very likely PRAISE YOU!!! yes, oddly personally at that, but he genuinely finds no issue in most things. it's rather ironic to think rook could respect your boundaries about yourself when he stalks others and inappropriately addresses beastmen and fae, but as hypocritical as his nature is, he's not fat phobic. he's never been one for the most conventional of views. vil supports you in that he helps you reach your goals; rook also aspires to do that, but rook can appreciate the beauty before him in present time more thanks vil can or does. (not to say that vil doesn't at all) so he definitely would have a positive view of you as you are, and the you you could be.

and yea, rook DID, in fact, shit on vil when they legit first met. but again, it's likely due to the part of him that is very intentional. vil did not turn him away, and infact came to trust him deeply, so obviously his judgement about vil's aversion towards him was right. maybe he was just lucky vil didn't beat him over the head with a textbook, but it's been 2 to 2.5 years since then. he's likely grown and developed a degree of manners thanks to vil, especially now that he's a face of pomefiore. sure, he could learn to be more respectful when providing the criticism he does with vil despite their close bond, but if vil really did think he was rude, he would just tell him. rook would adapt and take a different approach in telling him. we all have had similar thoughts about people close to us, but as we had time to process it, we come to realize what they were trying to impart on us potentially negates whatever tone or action they take-- which also leads our appreciation of the sentiment to overpower any feeling of irritation, anger, guilt, hurt, etc etc. rook may not change all his eccentricities, but he's not incapable of change.

i fucking love rook because he's just such a GOOD character?? he so obviously has his perks and flaws, his charms and distastes. that's what makes him so easily to like because he's so obviously not perfect that he feels real, despite his enigmatic nature obscuring any chance we have at fully understanding his character. he's not a good person, but he's not a bad person. he does good things, he does bad things, he does blandly neutral stuff. it may just be bias, but he's one of the most interesting and morally grey characters in twst. i also hate rook the most. i have a mostly love relationship with vil but i HATREEEERSTETE rook. i want to violently hit him with an ikea mug. i want him in a rutsack. i wanna kiss him. he's so ugly he's so gorgeous. also i love the way you draw vil he's so scrimblio

SO TRUE SO TRUE sorry this took so long to answer i was doing hot girl shit (grocery shopping, watching inuyasha) all day but this is so true!!! honestly the only thing i would argue with you on is that rook isn't exclusively weird towards non-human students; he ALSO pulls that shit with humans, like when he shot that arrow at ace, deuce, yuu, and grim during book five to send the message that they were chosen. he's an equal opportunity weirdo!

honestly what intrigues me the most about him is that technically, he's considered a "heroic" character- he has the same light magic that kalim and silver, who are both based on "heroic" characters do instead of everyone else's dark magic. and thats so fucking interesting like...i don't know if i would consider rook or the huntsman from snow white heroic characters exactly. sure the huntsman helps snow white but for us playing the game rook helping neige means WE lose out on a lot. in the end both of them do what they consider to be the right thing but god. i need to hit him with a 2x4 tbh

also thank you! i haven't drawn vil in so long i should draw him again...in 2020 i just could think of a lot more funny jokes about him to draw LMAO now im old and decrepit and i have no ideas

#asks #twst

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lykkegaardvalentine07 · 1 year

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ash21mark · 2 years

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Black Void

Time & space , these are two very important phenomenon which kept humanity think for thousands of years about this vast infinite universe and to find out its unapproachable interstellar destinations like solar system , milky way , planets , blackholes ,etc.. This topic is “Search for extra-terrestrial intelligence” discussed with Dr Jill Tarter, she is an American astronomer, former director of the centre for SETI Research and holds the Bernard M. Oliver for SETI at the SETI Institute. She has led many astronomical projects including the phoenix project which observed and recognised nearly 700 nearby stars and also is on the management board for the Allen telescope array. She was presented two public service medals from NASA and was one of the 100 most influential people of the world in the year 2004 by time magazine.

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alvacommz · 2 years

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Cyber security: definition, importance and benefits of cyber security

Difficulties of network protection

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garnerhwgpayne · 2 years

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain.

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice.

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you.

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly.

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger.

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language.

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident."

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution.

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage.

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years."

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on."

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue.

"Aren't you going to finish the song?"

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you.

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me."

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead."

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them."

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things.

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice.

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were.

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about.

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with."

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore."

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir."

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked.

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?"

You admitted it point-blank. "No."

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly."

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood!

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?"

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?"

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute.

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles.

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders."

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand.

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield.

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin."

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library.

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!"

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge.

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance.

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again.

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try.

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look.

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine.

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it.

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere.

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!"

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center.

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it."

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free.

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center.

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen."

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground.

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again."

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'.

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it."

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors.

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of.

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick."

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?"

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that."

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?"

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable."

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now."

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.”

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?”

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction.

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.”

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion.

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.”

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?”

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.”

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?"

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.”

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach.

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?"

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around."

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor."

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom.

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set.

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got."

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz."

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving.

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap.

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do."

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant.

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you."

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside."

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do.

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.”

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme

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panlight · 2 years

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Do you think if identical twins were turned into vampires and happened to be “gifted,” that they would have the same “gift” given that they are/were the same/ have the same genetic makeup? I know Alec and Jane were twins, but they obviously weren’t identical, but both had “gifts.” If they were both girls or both guys, and identical, do you think they’d posses the same powers? Or do you think their powers would be different, if they were to have any, based off of their personalities and such. Then again, do you think that personalities play a big role in “gifts?”

I know Edward can read minds because he was good at reading people in his human life, and Alice could sense/predict something happening as a human. Do you believe this is more personality or genetic makeup, and how much of each contributes to a “gift” during the “vampification” process?

Sorry if this has been asked previously.

Cheers :)

My guess is that identical twins would either both be gifted or both not, but that the gifts wouldn't be exactly the same. While SM hints that gifts are genetic/inheritable to some degree, they are also tied to personality/experience (Jane and Alec's kind of neutral, nebulous gift was focused by their experience of being burned at the stake: Jane wanted to make those who were hurting her feel what she felt; Alec wanted to numb himself), so I think even identical twins would have different enough personalities and experiences that the gifts would be different.

I think like with Jane and Alec though that they'd probably be related gifts, maybe even mirrored gifts. Like a matching set. Jane makes you feel pain, Alec numbs you completely. Something like that but perhaps even more directly related if they are identical. Especially since it seems like you inherent gift/gift potential from your parents. Bella's gift is a twist on Charlie's muffled mental voice (and everyone falling all over themselves to help her all the time might be inherited from Renee?), and Renesmee's gift is a twist/reversal of Edwards.

Since apparently controlling the elements is on the table, I could imagine twins where one can control fire and one can control wind, or something like that. Or they both can influence the weather but in different ways--one can do temperature and one can do precipitation, but working together they could basically control all of it, or something like that.

(I don't LIKE these overpowered non-psychic powers very much, but, meh, BD and Benjamin made them canon).

With a more subtle, psychic thing, maybe one twin can make people happy and the other can make people angry or sad or whatever. Maybe one twin has the ability to know someone's deepest desire/wish/dream and the other twin knows their darkest fear. Some kind of matching set like that.

#asks

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surely-galena · 2 years

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NXX Boys as the Mystery Gang

I have no clue if someone has already done this, but this has been on my mind and I see no way where I can stick this pitch into an ao3 fic

I don't actually know the Mystery Gang as well as I think I do, but hey! I like analyzing things

WC: ~0.9K

DAVIS/the roomba as: Scooby-Doo

They're friendly and lovable sidekicks!

DAVIS, much like Scooby, is insanely overpowered (for good reason in canon, considering he's a powerful but benevolent AI)

They're both able to find things: DAVIS has access to cameras, internet history, and anything vaguely computer network related. If DAVIS wants to solve mysteries, I'm fairly certain he could

But here's where my pitch for the roomba comes in: did the cat find the roomba, or did the roomba find the cat? Maybe the roomba is actually secretly very good at scouting out clues. Anyway, the roomba has a lot of potential and I'm wondering if there are any further plans for it in canon

Luke Pearce as: Shaggy

If DAVIS is Scooby-Doo, then I pitch Luke as Shaggy purely because out of all the NXX boys, he's the most likely to be pals with DAVIS.

Also, if we also draw in Shaggy's love of food as Luke being happy to eat practically anything (SR 'Among the Great Blue', the goose card, the crabs) then that's another comparison I am willing to make

Shaggy is also occasionally the gang mechanic, which is fantastic for my point because Luke is always happy to take things apart and put them back together (computers, machines, I mean he owns an ANTIQUE SHOP)

AND! If you argue that Shaggy is the face of the Mystery Gang (I mean it's either him or Scooby) then I am copying and pasting Luke's dream of becoming a detective onto him. Both of them can be associated with solving mysteries! Luke adores the Sherlock Holmes series but I bet he and MC also grew up on Scooby-Doo!

Marius von Hagen as: Daphne

Daphne is fashionable, BUT

If we look at later versions of Daphne, it's shown that she is excellently skilled in martial arts (not quite sure which, I think it might be karate?) and that she's more than just a pretty face

So we have pretty pretty Marius von Hagen who does enjoy looking good and dressing well, but also hides his real interests, passions, feelings, etc. behind his shallow façade. Most people look at him and see someone who doesn't seem to take things seriously, who doesn't know anything about the world, etc., but this all tends to work in Marius' advantage -- he uses his presumed inexperience to make everyone let their guard down, thus allowing him to get what he needs, whether that be deals, information, that kind of thing.

We also know Marius can be absolutely vicious in the business world if he needs to be

And that's the dichotomy that I am placing on him: a pretty face who is far more dangerous than they seem.

Do not underestimate him at any cost

Vyn Richter as: Velma

If the NXX Investigation Team decide to go as the Mystery Gang for a costume party or [insert event], then at least he can keep his glasses as Velma

All of the NXX members are insanely intelligent, but Vyn "I have two doctorate degrees, whereas Artem has only one" Richter stands out

Velma is often linked to knowledge in science, and so is Vyn

Plus, Vyn's degree in psychology allows him to read people much more easily, and I argue that he's able to put together clues like Velma in this way.

I can also see him getting excited about learning new things, perhaps not visually, but internally he's genuinely ecstatic; knowledge is power but the process of collecting it is fun!! (cue odd look from Marius when Vyn mentions this)

Which leaves Artem Wing as... Fred

Okay, hear me out on this.

On his Which Scooby-Doo Character is the Best? video, JelloApocalypse states: "Fred is nothing, and that means Fred can be anything."

And to sort of draw back a little and look at Fred from a meta lens, Fred is boring because there are next to no personality traits attached to him -- hence the statement "Fred is nothing".

Artem, from your general Stellis citizen's point of view, is also boring. He's a workaholic who doesn't seem to think about anything else but his job. If you were to conduct a vertical cross-section of his brain, you would predict that you'd only find coffee and law books. No thoughts, head empty, just law.

But this, as we know, is untrue

Because as "Fred is everything", so is Artem

This is the sci-fi nerd we're talking about. This guy not only has a 99% win rate, is not only the youngest senior attorney, but also, along with an assortment of other things: reviews movies, fishes (and is good at it), is an excellent home cook for some reason, and knows how to use a gun

His resume is filled to the brim with so many skills that he might as well be Toodles from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, ever present and somehow helpful

The only thing he Cannot Do is art

Fred can generally also be classified as a himbo, but unfortunately, with the NXX boys' extreme individual intelligence, I don't think I can draw that parallel here

But! Fred does pretty well in positions of leadership, and so does Artem (not necessarily in the NXX because they're all equal there, but in the law firm)

oh yeah also Fred's classic ascot could easily translate into Artem's tie

#tears of themis #DAVIS #artem wing #vyn richter #marius von hagen #luke pearce #character analysis #sort of?#all the members of the mystery gang have gone through several iterations which means I easily mix up each version

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beyondthepalerpg · 3 years

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Patreon Q&A: September

Here’s the questions and answers for the months of September 2021!

I want to thank everyone who participated. Remember, all Warden tier (or higher) members are able to join in on the Q&A.

If you’re interested in the project and want to help support it, please consider becoming a Patron. You can find more information about the Beyond the Pale Patreon [here].

In terms of premade difficulty monsters, maybe dealing with a kelpie or haunting.

One of the features intended for the game is a way for Game Masters to have a variety of options for all difficulty levels. You could, for example, have an entire campaign that focuses on vampires because the Game Master has access to several kinds of vampires, each with differing difficulty rating.

The intended goal is to give the Game Master a large degree of freedom to tweak encounters to best suit their players.

So much of the cosmology of a lot of myths and religions in the setting are metaphorical or misinterpretations. Atlas doesn’t literally hold up the sky, for example.

So while I have read and researched these things, it’s not likely they’ll be given direct credence in the setting. The established cosmology of the game is the Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and the Nine Worlds.

The Four Horsemen is an angelic concept, a sort of ideology and mini-pantheon.

When humanity became known to Heaven and Hell there was much debate on both sides on how to approach the new possibilities. In Heaven, the seven archangels held council and weighed the pros and cons of humanity.

Three opted to spare humanity out of compassion, who argued that humanity would aid them in their fight against Hell and deserved direct intervension. However, three wanted humanity exterminated to deprive Hell of any potential advantage.

The deciding vote was held by the Archangel of Patience, who characteristically abstained. To this day, he still holds that vote and is still making a decision on if humanity deserves Heaven’s full grace or full wrath.

The three who voted for humanity’s destruction, plus the abstainer, are represented as the Four Horsemen. And should the vote finally be caste against humanity, they themselves will bring about humanity’s apocalypse.

It’s still a planned feature. The lore around genuine black magic that there the fall into darkness is an emotional one. Black magic is the rock bottom of that pit and if you can cast black magic you’re already too far gone.

Black magic is a complete corruption of someone’s humanity. Joy becomes pain, misery becomes bliss, empathy becomes hatred in a literal sense. There is no coming back from it.

A character who is struggling with that darkness within is not going to be able to cast black magic. It is only when that darkness has fully taken hold and completely consumed them that it is possible. And as a result, the character is effectively insane, similar to if their Sanity Points drop to lethal levels.

From a mechanical point, the moment you can cast black magic, your character is treated as incurably insane and is under the control of the GM. If you’re looking for a struggle with corruption, there are innumerable other options available.

Black magic is the exception. It is that bad and (mechanically) overpowered.

#Q&A #Beyond the Pale #Tabletop #RPG #Gaming #Magic #Angels

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nagirambles · 2 years

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Is there any magic in the series you wanted to see used more or have more spells? For example, I think that Archive's concept of being a magic computer is really cool and there are a lot ways you could expand on that. In addition, is there any magic you want explored more in terms of mechanics or lore? For example, God Slayer. Just the name alone is so intriguing in the implications. I'd want this expanded on with abilities and origins so it doesn't feel like a palette swap of Dragon Slayer.

Absolutely! I honestly think I'm more interested in the less battle-oriented ones. The ones that don't seem overpowered at first glance (like Satan Soul for example, you don't need much imagination on how that can be expanded,) and are dependent on how using them in different ways makes them tough opponents.

Archive is one of them, definitely. The coolest thing we see it do is immediately teach Lucy how to use Urano Metria and that's ages ago.

I really want to see God and Devil Slayers get more depth in the lore department. Especially in the question of 'why was this magic necessary?' I honestly think we could've gone without god Slayers in the franchise though, Devil and Dragon feels equal to some degree, but every time a God Slayer comes up it's just 'I'm you but better'.

I also want to see Requip used more! We've seen armor, blades, and guns. what about other weapons-- bows and arrows, spiked gloves for close combatants, maybe specialists like dagger-onlys or axe-onlys. Being able to switch weapons in and out is a very useful fighting tactic rather than Erza’s ‘i’m going to use a stronger armor with more swords until I decide the Clear Heart is a better option’.

And-- Card Magic. Cana's magic has so much potential but she only ever uses it for that one lightning attack, or to seal people/communication. What if the Wheel of Fortune grants her a spurt of really good luck? Like the moment she draws it by chance a stray wheel just socks her enemy across the face out of nowhere. Or the Tower makes her enemy's next move fail, or The Star granting her a temporary power boost.

A lot of magic is either one-note or underutilized in the show, and that's a bit sad. Celestial Spirits are another thing-- we know Regulus is light-related, but... uh, what else? Does it purify? Or is it just really shiny? And Aries is just a wool churner. I also wish we'd see other silver keys. remember Caelum? that thing's a transforming weapon.

Lorewise, I would love to see dynamics between spirits. That's never shown enough other than the ones that are lovers. For example-- would Aquarius and Pisces (Mom) be the mean girls of the group? Does Capricorn, Taurus, and Aries have a sort of animal family relationship? Do Capricorn and Virgo, butler and maid respectively, have a really professional respect for each other? If there was an Orion spirit, would they fanboy over Sagittarius or would they have an apprentice relationship?

That's long enough of a tangent, so haha! that's it.

#rambling about fairies #just a ramble #it's an ask #i'm reaching #it's a headcanon #the menace celestials #magic rambles

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45paperplates · 3 years

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More about Olivia Rodrigo: On her Lyrics

Starting some time in 2018 or maybe a little earlier, Olivia Rodrigo began to play original songs, or more often pieces of songs, one verse and a chorus, apparently unfinished, for her followers on Instagram Live. She was about fifteen at the time, although one of the more complete songs (“Naive Girl”) can be confirmed to date back to 2014 or 2015, when she was twelve years old. I began to listen to these songs, all but one of which are available to hear conveniently compiled into a single twenty-five minute Youtube video, when my appetite for her music was only beginning to grow to its present size, after I had listened to the album on repeat for a good three or four days straight. They are the kind of thing only obsessive fans can really gush over, something akin to Bob Dylan’s early Minnesota Hotel Tape from 1961: badly recorded and casually created by a young artist who never intended them to be anything more than they are, a fun and easy way to show off their talent at a time when a wellspring of inspiration was already pouring forth with no better available outlet.

youtube

These little pieces, however, establish finally for sure what a major label pop debut with other ambitions, no matter how special it may be, can only hint at, which is that something within her is driving a preternatural attention for detail, currently unmatched in it’s free naturalism, imaginative power, and consistency, only possibly consistent as a result of its being deeply possessed and long established, despite her youth. I have already touched on what I think that something may be in my first post about her. But whatever it is, it is immediately apparent in her performances here, an instinct that had already cemented deeply considered vocalization as her default, as a simple creative necessity, although a few of the earliest recordings have added even another layer of Broadway-like drama that has since been stripped away, I am guessing as a result of the nascent growth of some level of creative confidence.

Songwriting, then, is to some degree shown to be a third result of that engrained ability, after said holistic sincerity and its resultant vocal intuition, and yet a good chunk of the songs are lyrically composed as well with a just as holistically sincere and intuitive affect, presenting very well-understood conundrums, pared down to koan-like solids one would think by years of rumination. A few are, I would dare to say, more tightly constructed and figuratively multivalent than the songs on her album, many of which share their succinctness but not the violently prismatic irony that seems to be able to overpower the sincere creative drive that gave it life in its brightest inspired flashes. “drivers license” in fact excels by flattening that figurative prism into a simpler and more benign shape, allowing the casual listener to both easily understand and retain some wisp of hope in the end, even if it is only implied.

I would not be so stupid as to claim that Olivia intended these best-written of her unreleased bedroom productions to be metaphysical poems somehow toeing the line between classical balance and baroque terror in their meditation on the reciprocal quality of human sin. That would be silly, not because I don’t think a teenager is capable of such a thing (teenagers have, in fact, always been capable of making high art) but because these few songs focus on themes common to all of her songs: teenage insecurity, uncontrollable jealousy, and betrayal both social and self-inflicted. The depth of her imagery comes instead, I think, from an intuitive understanding of where the cultural meat of an issue lies, and when she writes a song her drive craves and so aims for power and gets rid of whatever there is that lacks it. Perhaps working with a co-writer somewhat slows that drive.

youtube

“Pretender” is a song about being “fake” and how it works both outwardly and internally. It’s personification, the “pretender” of the title, is accused, envied, pitied, and ultimately, understood. It moves through four key lines.

Pointing her finger at this automaton, about whom she alone knows the truth, Olivia first wishes vindictively,

If only they knew what I knew.

But then, now envious of the figure, she prays,

I wish I knew what you knew.

Maybe as a result of these two contradictory desires, she is forced to admit with regret that the pretender can only be a fantastic image rather than a full person, a strawman created by her mind to both embody her sublimated desire and reflexively maintain her own superiority when it goes unfulfilled:

I created you to be plastic and deadly.

Finally, in a relentlessly logical conclusion, she must admit, as the construction falls to pieces, that this is obviously all about herself:

I created you to hide my own envy, ... Maybe I’m a pretender like you.

With her catalog in mind, the canonical interpretation is pretty obvious. The pretender is someone who is perfect and happy and Olivia is jealous of that. By the guilt left in the wake of her accusation, she realizes, indeed it should have been quite apparent from the start, that perhaps the person who seems to be happy is actually not happy. She perceives by juxtaposition that maybe others see her, Olivia, the same way, and in a sinking conclusion, perfect happiness, the other’s and hers as well, is shown to be only truly possible in image and never in the fullness of experience. It is a song about the difficult process of empathy and its bitter personal rewards. This interpretation prevails in Youtube comments, specifically in reference to her other songs about the jealousy encouraged by social media. “I’m happy for them, but then again, I’m not.” Maybe Olivia’s own fun and carefree public-facing presence is just as false?

The genius behind this songwriting, however, is that this other person does not need to exist for the song’s structure to function. This is by design, no doubt; she could very well be speaking only to herself the entire time. If Olivia is pretending too, as the final line suggests, then why could she not have been the pretender all along? Indeed, how else could Olivia be the only one who knows “the truth” about this figure in the first place? A personal struggle with identity, that is the meat of it all.

Her first wish for the pretender’s exposure is based in personal remorse, for lying to the world about who she really is. That her own social facade might be justly but violently forced open to expose the truth would be a painful but cathartic release. She makes her second wish as she recoils in the face of such an embarrassing prospect, hoping against reason that maybe it’s somehow all avoidable, that by abandoning any loyalty to the truth and to herself altogether she might in fact achieve the paradise that the pretender affects, soulless but free of the pain of having a soul too. Third is the realization that this is evil, that her desire is sinful, both grotesque and inhuman (“plastic”), and cruel (“deadly”). Fourth and last she can no longer pretend that her original finger-pointing isn't itself the result of this same worldly desire, as narcissistic an attempt at personal redemption as the outward facade is itself. Insecurity and jealousy, no matter how embarrassing or ugly, no more compose an understanding of identity than any more knowingly-constructed and performative self-image, and are just as self-serving in their own twisted way.

So in this song she is deconstructing herself, from outward composure to cryptic narcissism, shattering layer after layer in an alarmingly accelerating regression. Unfortunately, all that is left in the end is what she has done after what she is—performatively, emotionally, intuitively—has fallen away, specifically the intended result of the accusation she threw at the pretender to begin it all: once again, guilt. What else but guilt is exposed now to be the substance left of the human individual? For Olivia, deep down at least, guilt is always the together creator and eraser of human pleasure, the identity that is desire, and the only thing that fears the emptiness that would be left without it.

That a teenager could write such a penetratingly self-critical work is of course impressive, but the fact that guilt, desire, pleasure, happiness, identity, and fear are shown ultimately to be one and the same generative source is far more exciting. Here she exposes the potential versatility of her created and creative ability, that in maturity this raw power without singular definition could be manipulated into many other things completely new, things only Olivia and not I can imagine now.

#Olivia Rodrigo #sour #drivers license #pretender #hsmtmts #bootlegs #bob dylan #metaphysics #john donne #existentialism #pop music #catholic guilt #taylor swift #lorde #billie eilish

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rhmg-au · 3 years

Text

Prequel part 2.

Man this was sitting here uncompleted for around, I don’t know, a month? Really need to get better at this.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Mentions of emotional manipulation, blood and gore

Mod Swanno: Read more due to length and content! :]

———

This isn’t right. None of this is okay.

Those were Charles’s first thoughts when he found out what happened to Right Hand- Green.

No amount of counterarguments can ever change his mind on one fact, that being that he never, ever deserved this. It’s not okay, they stripped him from who he used to be and turned him into a puppet, making him dance to their strings without realizing it.

But he never dared to approach the general about it.

He would get overpowered easily and he can guilt-trip him into going along with what he believes, though it never lasts long thankfully. He doesn’t know what could happen if he was under his influence permanently.

He would always say things like “it’s for the world’s own good” or “it’s in the name of the law”, but none of this feels like it. This is utterly wrong in every form.

He may be naive, but not that naive as most thought. Even when it gets to him sometimes.

Everyday he had been trying to help Green out from his brainwashed state, he wanted to help, no, he needed to help. He couldn’t let this go any further.

But he doesn’t want to die either. If he dies, he can’t help anymore.

Days after days of planning, strategizing, ways he can help the cyborg out of this while also still hanging onto his privilege of life.

There has to be a way, there has to be. There’s always one right?

———

“We have to find him! He has to be out there somewhere!” Charles practically begged, concern written all over his face, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

He had been at it for couple minutes at most, or was it hours even? He couldn’t remember, the argument felt like it lasted an eternity but it also had the feeling of quickness to it simultaneously. It’s just been a few hours and he noticed that there was something wrong with Rupert, he couldn’t find him anywhere on the premises. He called him multiple times, and all he hears is a voice message saying that he should call back later. None of his co-workers haven’t seen him either, or aren’t concerned whatsoever. It’s like he vanished off from the face of the earth entirely.

Galeforce shook his head, the pilot doesn’t know if the pity on his face was genuine or another facade made by him to play with his emotions. It was definitely the latter possibility, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe he really did care for the soldiers. “Charlie, even if there’s a chance he’s still alive, we’re not going to go and try to find him, heartless I know, but it’s for the better good.”

“Better good?!” The male let the water stuck in his irises escape when he blinked, the bubbles streaming down his cheeks as his voice raised. “He’s one of your best soldiers and you’re not concerned with him missing?!”

“Charlie, if you still think he’s just missing, then how do you explain this?” The general held up a hat with the emblem that signifies someone’s position in the government, but there was a difference to it - it was covered in dried stains of blood.

Charles felt his body stiffen, almost unmoving like a statue. “N-no, are you sure it’s just from his struggling?” He refused to believe this, he refused to, he refused to! This can’t be happening…

Galeforce sighed, still holding the bloodied hat out for him to see. “Unfortunately, a possibility like that is impossible to consider as long as this is still around.” His expression held guilt, genuine or not, it doesn’t matter at this point. What matters is the safety of his co-worker.

But is he still alive?

That’s one question he desperately wanted to seek for.

“We, we can’t determine his condition based on one thing!” He protested, more tears were shed as rage boiled inside of him to a dangerous degree.

Galeforce’s stare never left him, it was almost - actually no, unsettling. “There’s nothing we can do, Charlie. This hat is irrefutable proof that he’s no longer here with us…I’m sorry.”

“He has to be alive…”

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again, you need to let it go. He’s not coming back. I’ll leave you be to think about what I said.” The general then left, taking the blood stained and ruined hat along with him, leaving the pilot by himself and his tears and emotions.

Impulsively, he squeezed his elbow with one hand so hard he was surprised no blood came out from the amount of force he was putting on his limb. Was Galeforce this heartless to not care about his soldier? Would he go as far as that?

What happened to the caring one he knew?

Why had it come to this?

Why…

———

Charles doesn’t know anything anymore.

Okay, maybe not anything, but he felt like he lost so much purpose for not being able to help Green…

…or him.

The only times he can truly feel at peace is when he flies around in his helicopter. In the sky, all of his troubles fade away. The clouds give him some form of hope that somehow, someway, he’ll find a solution to this.

He always liked the sky, no one can hurt him up there.

Anyways, the air isn’t what’s bothering him at the moment.

Something horrible happened just yesterday.

The Toppats attacked the government to get Green back.

Now, under normal circumstances, he would’ve been relieved, as this gives Green a way to escape the government’s grasp and return to his former self.

But what occurred wasn’t what he would call “normal circumstances.”

Henry Stickmin, the leader of the Toppats, was captured.

Galeforce intended to use him as bait to get his right hand lady to initiate another attack so he can get both of them and ship them off to the Wall, as part of a deal he had with the warden, Dmitri Petrov, he believed that was his name.

Henry hadn’t said much since his capture, which is most likely because of Green. The distraught look he had when he heard and seen what had become of his former friend…it reminded him of when he heard that Rupert’s dead (he still doubts this, but he’s starting to believe it with every passing day).

Charles’s determination to save Green have increased since this event, he couldn’t afford to endanger anymore lives due to his fear of getting killed, he couldn’t…he was supposed to be someone who protects the helpless right? And at this very moment in time, the Toppats are the ones who are helpless.

The pilot headed to where the cells are located, nodding to the two soldiers who were put on guard duty to let them know he’s trustworthy, and allowed him to pass.

These cells used to contain Toppats, he remembered every one of their faces, how utterly defeated they looked, every little word he managed to pick up…now these confined places no longer have them. Executed for not obliging with the interrogations. By their own friend no less.

How many lives were ruined or taken away because of Galeforce’s actions?

Countless, that’s the only word he can find to describe it.

Charles stopped at the cell that contains the leader, sitting on the bed provided in the small and cramped confines, facing away from him and by the looks of it, he was fiddling with a piece of clothing, the collar of his shirt if he glances at him in the right angle. “Hey, Henry.”

Said man slowly turned around to get a glimpse of his new visitor, then whipped back to lock his gaze on the wall again, like it somehow became more important than anything else in the world. “What do you want?”

Can’t back out now. Charles reminded himself. You asked for this. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. This isn’t Galeforce or Dr. V or anyone who’s scary, he’s okay, it’s just Henry.

“I wanted to let you know that…you’re not alone.” No one’s listening, it’s them both alone.

His words prompted Henry to turn back around, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re joking right?” He asked with a scoff. Apparently he hasn’t believed him yet, understandable.

Charles masked his face with a look of determination, hoping that it would be enough to let the leader understand his intentions. “No, I’m completely serious about this.” His tone was firm, if his expression wasn’t the key, then his voice should be the nail in the coffin.

Silence reigned for while, sitting on its throne as the two males stared blankly at each other, every now and again the pilot broke eye contact to see if anyone was in the hallway or listening in on them, and thankfully neither of those had been activated yet.

Eventually, the silence was kicked off the chair of power when Henry spoke.

“I knew you weren’t under his control after all.”

Charles smiled softly, to of which the other returned. “I couldn’t stand by and watch, none of this is right. I’ll get you and Right out of here.” It felt weird to call Green by his old name, but it felt reliving too.

Henry nodded, standing up from the bed and walked over to him, or at least, as close as he could get when he’s behind bars. “You’ll help us?”

“You have my word.”

“How’s it going to go?”

“I actually haven’t figured that out yet.” Charles said sheepishly, playing with the fluff the encircled his jacket. “I just needed to let you know you’re not alone here.”

Henry’s smile never faltered. “How about we develop one now?”

Charles took one more glance around, making sure to cover everywhere in the hallway of cells before nodding. “Yeah, it feels good to work with you again Henry.”

“Likewise.”

———

Two days now, and nothing of the sorts have happened.

The plan has to be flawless, if executed in a poor manner, there’s no second chances or redos.

Which is why the plan is taking two days, maybe even more if nothing has been figured out today.

“Is there any potential escape routes we can take?” Henry asked, a scrap of paper in one hand and a pen in another, Charles had given him those so they can keep track of the progress they’re making and the possibilities they have to consider.

“My helicopter is one option, but I’ll have to hide you and Right inside, which’ll be difficult since even during the nights and early mornings, soldiers would be patrolling the area, and I’m pretty sure most of them aren’t on our side.” The pilot responded, racking his brain for another way to transport them out of the base before the raid could commence. His right hand lady would be planning it, and Henry wants to minimize as much damage done to the Toppats as possible.

“You think you can get me some military clothing and disguise me as a soldier to take me along with you undetected?” Henry proposed next, scribbling on the piece of paper he was given to rule out the option he wrote.

“Then I’ll have to take someone here with me, knock them out, and put their clothes on you. And how are you going to get your belongings out with you?” Charles questioned, this can’t go wrong, if it does he’ll never forgive himself ever.

“I’ll…figure it out.” The leader said, drawing something on the paper.

“So we’re going along with this, you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Henry glanced up from drawing, eyes widening with fear. “Watch out!”

“Huh?” Charles didn’t react in time and was smacked on the head, collapsing against the steel bars of the cell and slumping onto the ground, black teasing around the edges of his eyes.

Before he could get a chance to get up, he was picked up and thrown to the wall, his fighting spirit fading fast as the darkness was overwhelming.

The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut was Henry’s distressed face, and an evil grin of someone he used to look up to.

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ]#[ NON CANON ]#OH BOY CHARLES-#F in the chat they got him-#- MOD - [ SWANNO ]#tw blood #tw gore #tw manipulation #submission

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