TwiLyghtSansSparkles

If you add in the bits about Allmother and Calmseer, it could lead to an excellent contrast and a fuller perspective on the topic.

All righty, Timeport. There you go. Edit:

Quota stepped out onto the darkened street. Behind him sat the armory; before him sat Portland, a series of hard-edged silhouettes against a fading sky. The city, their part of it, was quiet, the vanillas intelligent enough to have survived this long having retreated to their homes at the first sign of nightfall. But Quota could change that. Fear hung in the air like a cold, crisp fragrance. In a city like Portland, fear led to self-preservation. Fear kept them inside, safe from Epics who couldn't walk through walls or tear them down. Fear was life. Quota had never dampened fear. The thought of doing so had never struck him as repugnant, but it had struck him as boring. Fear was always the most fun when it flared in their eyes, and tamping it down meant it couldn't flare. Not then, maybe not ever, depending on the sort of vanilla he was dealing with. And then they're telling their stupid little friends that there's nothing to be afraid of, and then what'll you do when you want some fun? Frightening them on purpose was always an option, but it was always more amusing to watch the terror flare at the sight of a cloak. Tonight, however, was different. Timeport wanted some fun, and for that to happen, they needed some vanillas. Quota inhaled the cold air and fear together, drew his pistol, and darted for the nearest house. Nothing fancy, just a standard vinyl-sided home painted in a tasteful blue-grey. The red door, though—that was interesting. He'd had a neighbor who painted her door red, saying it invited travelers and good luck alike. It hadn't worked out so well. Chuckling at the irony, Quota darted for the back porch and pressed his back against the house, motioning Timeport to do the same. He rested his head against the cool siding and reached out toward the family within. Their lights were already off, though he heard the hum of a generator heating the interior. The darkness, though it tempered their fear of running out of fuel, heightened their fear of whatever lurked in the darkness outside. He felt for their fear and tamped it down. A new kind of fear, a sharper kind, rose up in its place. Sparks! They'd dealt with empaths before. Knew their touch when they felt it. Quota withdrew, then reached out again, more gently this time. He shot Timeport a grin to cover his irritation, focused again, and pushed the fear down. It rose up ten time stronger. Sparking sparking sparks! Before Quota could bang his foot against the porch in an attempt at a distraction, he heard voices. Muffled and indistinct, but voices. Following close behind was... No. Quota grinned. Can't be. But it was. Footsteps. They grew louder as they approached the back porch. Quota heard the faint click of metal on metal, then a series of louder clicks as a series of locks and latches were undone. He stifled a laugh. This was just too good. Too good. Quota elbowed Timeport in the ribs, though a grin had already spread across the teleporter's face, a manic glint in his eyes stronger than any light Quota had seen. His hands clutched his battle-axe. "He's got a gun. I'll head for the bushes." Timeport nodded in assent as Quota dashed for the hedge, burying himself in the branches as the door opened.

If anyone else wants to sow chaos, go ahead. If not, I'll get to work on my Quota post.

Oh, great. Next you'll tell me Sparkle Glass is a thing.

Can I add "And then Nighthound died" as a meta example of a survival mantra?

If Reader wrote slash fics about that moment, would Vondra ask for them to be reported and brought to his office, or simply burned on sight?

Yes. Like that. When in doubt, have her bring down a flying pig in a shower of sparkles that would make Funtimes cry.

I believe I shall. Those fit Nighthound. I'm….afraid to search for any that fit his creepiness. Thank you, Moral Guardian, for preventing us from spending too much money on brain bleach. (Yes we do.)

No sooner had Autumn sent what could very well be her last words over the radio, she lost control. One of the twins lifted a shard of glass and brandished it like a weapon, the other shifting into a fighting stance; the sparkling newcomer smiled, oblivious to the two assault rifles aimed at her; and Backtrack appeared to silently beg Calamity for the power to sink through the floor and disappear. “Now now, I´m just here to help you with your flying pig problem, so there´s no reason to be aggressive.” She nodded to the bit of glass, unfazed by it or the weapons. “Anyway, the only thing that you´ll manage to do with that is cut yourself. I would say that glass is useless but that would be tactless, wouldn't it?” Autumn knew her first duty was to determine what sort of threat the newcomer posed. She wasn't supposed to care about her reputation, or how this would look when performance reviews rolled around, or what Arsenal would say when he heard she'd been murdered by an Epic whose shirt would make a four-year-old girl squeal with glee. But with two trained soldiers toting potentially useless weapons and three dangerous Epics who knew it, Autumn had different priorities. With one hand, she reached for her pocket. Her fingers brushed the recording chip she'd taken from her office and turned it on. If she released pressure on the button for more than a minute, the recording would be automatically transmitted to the nearest base, which could then send for backup. ​Wait—what's the nearest base? We're closer to Dallesport, which means we're nearer to the center of town than the edge, which means the closest base is…. Arsenal's. Of course. If her last words were "Augh! Put that down! Backtrack, come back here! If I've told you once I've told you a hundred times—listen to me, will you?" then Arsenal could read them at her funeral. Her smile stretching into a catlike grin, the Epic vanished, reappearing beside Backtrack in a shower of colorful sparkles. Before he could protest, she had her arm around his shoulder as he shrank back. If Autumn wasn't mistaken, a small whimper escaped his lips. “Calamity, communication broke down after that Koschei guy took charge here but why did no one tell me that there was such a nice pair of sunglasses here. Say, does that whole pig thing happen often around here?” Autumn did not say the first thing that popped into her head. She would not, under any circumstances, have something about unauthorized hugs as her last words. "Teleportation," she noted instead. "That's useful." If backup was sent, they ought to know what they were dealing with. "So other than the pigs, what brought you here?"

I can see those. And Funtimes fits those three almost too well. Is there a Self-Designated Hero trope? Because Lightwards fits that pretty well. Baxter Game has elements of Frontier Doctor. I suspect Moral Guardian has something to do with Nighthound's never-ending supply of extra clothes. (They really did. Oddly enough, that scene wound up setting up quite a bit in regards to how those four relate to each other.)

What would you suggest? Primary Power: Instantly sensing when something creepy is going on. Secondary Power: Immediately knowing where to find the firepower necessary to destroy the creepy thing. It's not her fault Nighthound was practically begging to have his shirt turned to acid. (And it's also not her fault Nighthound didn't bother to grab a bathrobe or something before casually putting an arm around Nathan's shoulder….poor guy.)

"Bring that along. Oh, and Rachel?" "Yes?" "Once we get there, I've got a feeling there's a redhead who could use a hug."

"Hold up," Remington said. "I've got a sudden urge to grab all the guns I can carry and go to a pet store." Rachel gave him an odd look, but Max did not. "Know what? So do I." "You want to take a few grenade launchers and maybe a wrecking ball?" "Yeah. And a couple bombs just to be sure?" "Yeah." Remington paused. "And I've got the weirdest feeling we should bring backup."

Well, Quota and Timeport have a murder spree coming up. And I try to keep Nathan's viewpoints free of thoughts that require brain bleach.

True. I was just thinking of him as a sort of deconstruction of sidekicks in general—like Robin, he has no powers, far fewer high-tech gadgets, far less combat training, and his connection to Funtimes is arguably his most important…and instead of being this awesome, fun, "I get to pal around with a super powerful Epic!" thing, it's just another source of stress for him, with his connection to her becoming one that could make or break his entire existence at the drop of a hat. Although it is a good thing for him in some ways, being her sidekick has brought him more trouble than she acknowledges. Already set to theorize, are we?

Large Ham? More like a visionary! Eeyup. I've been in play-per-posts that didn't last a week. Would you guys say Nathan is a regular Sidekick, a Deconstructed Cowardly Sidekick, or something else entirely?

Nice. Our plot to conquer the entire internet haas begun! No kidding. (Definitely. And I'd say Sam and Cricket would count as Deadpan Snarkers, while Aldo is a perfect example of Affably Evil.)

I made some changes to the WHiO TvTropes page. Just enough to get started. Also, I think you all should know that my mom suggested I apply to a few libraries in Northern California this morning. (She does that with every place she thinks she and my dad might be moving to once he applies for a transfer. Wants everyone to live close by.) I just nodded, mentally noting to put in a few job applications in Montana and the Dakotas.

Or, alternate idea to a The Dalles being destroyed: Paladin is actually successful in helping drive the "cultists" away. His victory goes to his head and he goes to Salem in an attempt to secure it as well.

How "Kill the Moon" should have ended: Sweet! I'll add as many as I can think of.

When I heard Capaldi was going to be a darker Doctor than Smith and Tennant, I was excited. I thought we would see him encounter darker situations, more terrifying nemeses, have his morality stretched to the limit. I thought we would see him struggle to maintain his moral code as he confronted enemies that got under his skin, enemies who brought out the worst in his personality. In short, I thought we would see the same optimistic character we've grown to love, confronted with situations that he can't always talk his way out of. So I rejoiced, because who doesn't like to see their favorite character challenged in some way? And honestly, I could relate to that arc. Having been homeschooled and tossed into public school in seventh grade (right when students are at their most sociopathic), I had to rethink the morals I'd been taught all my life. The lessons that seemed so simple, so clear, when hearing them taught by my mother at the kitchen table, suddenly became murky and hard to enact when confronted with the realities of public school. I had to reconsider everything I'd learned, figure out how to apply it to a world that wasn't as black and white as I'd thought. But in the end, I held on to most of what I'd been taught as a child. I kept my faith. I adjusted some beliefs I'd thought immovable. I saw the horrors of everyday life, and I managed to find beauty regardless. That is what I wanted from Twelve. I wanted a Doctor who had to rethink everything he'd come to believe. I wanted a Doctor confronted with problems he can't just wish away. But most of all, I wanted a Doctor who saw the darkness of the universe and held on to his optimism. I wanted to see him confront the ugliness of evil and leave with deeper knowledge of the beauty of existence. That is not what I got. Like you said, we got a Doctor who is a jerk because he can be. He's reverted back to his First Doctor tendencies, and no one calls him on it. Clara never says "What is with you? You were so nice before, and now you're not! What gives, you jerk?" Instead, we get the Doctor yelling at her, Clara crying, the Doctor rebuffing her for crying, and so on and so forth. In a way, the writers seem to glory in making him as unlikable as possible, and honestly, I get enough of that working customer service. I don't want to see that in a character I've grown to adore. My hope for Season 9 is that some of the themes Moffat took such joy in deconstructing will be reconstructed. I want the Doctor to realize that embracing his inner ugliness isn't the way to destroy it; no, it has to be confronted and exorcised. I don't want a Doctor who gives in to the darkness. When I said I wanted a darker Doctor, what I wanted was a Doctor who sees the darkness and embraces the light instead.

I've still been trying to decide how I feel about this season, honestly. There have been some episodes and some moments that I really enjoyed. Missy was one of this season's highlights, in my opinion. Really, though, I think I'd like this season better if the Doctor's current personality made sense in light of his regeneration. The Ninth Doctor came to be after a war, in which the timelines converged in just the right way to make him think he'd destroyed his own planet. So when we see Nine electrocuting a Dalek, it makes sense. It makes perfect sense. He was born during a war in which he thought he did something so terrible, so unspeakable, there is no way to atone for it. He thought he had no choice, so when he sees a Dalek, he's going to react sort of brutally. So then we get to Twelve. In some respects, I like him. I like seeing a colder Doctor faced with tough decisions. I adored Ten and Eleven, but a more ruthless Doctor is a good counterbalance; in my opinion, it makes it easier to appreciate Smith and Tennant's optimism when watching a more pessimistic Doctor. But….looking at his regeneration, his personality doesn't make a lot of sense. Eleven didn't die during a war; he died after 300 years of protecting a town led to the Time Lords granting him another set of regenerations. He didn't die after making a tough decision, or thinking he did; he died at a good old age doing what he did best—protecting the innocent. He took out a fleet of Dalek ships on his own. He teamed up with the Silence, for crying out loud! Shouldn't Eleven's sweet ending have led to a sweeter beginning for Twelve? Just look at how Nine led to Ten. We have the postwar Doctor, coming to grips with his inner darkness and the things he's done—and in the middle of all this is Rose. His sweet companion, leading him to become a kinder, gentler man. And when he dies, he's reborn as Ten, one of the most cheerful, funny Doctors to date, whose ferocity is directed entirely toward preserving innocent lives. Then, Ten's death leads to Eleven, who seems to want to preserve some of Ten's kindness, but isn't sure how to come to grips with the things in his past, so he's more than a little bonkers. But his optimism remains. How does Twelve's personality make sense in that context? Don't get me wrong, I understand why Moffat did this season the way he did. A lot of fans were complaining that Smith was Tennant Part 2, and they were crying for a change. And, in some of the earliest First Doctor episodes, the Doctor isn't a kind, grandfatherly man. He can be a real jerk sometimes, and he sometimes acts selfishly. I get that, with Twelve, Moffat probably wanted to do a sort of loop—take the Doctor back to how he was during his first life cycle. In a literary sense, I see what he's doing, and I respect it. But it doesn't make sense in context. If he was planning to have Twelve be a darker Doctor all along, why not give Eleven a darker ending? (Not that I'm suggesting it; I loved Matt Smith's last episode and wouldn't change it for the world.) Looking at the previous Doctors in continuity, it just seems like they're making Twelve darker and edgier than Eleven because they can. And honestly, it doesn't feel quite right.

Is this what Altermind will ask for? Because I think this is what he should ask for. (Although, back when CorpseMaker was taking the armory, we kind of killed off most of the characters from that movie. Oops. ) They're beautiful, in every sense of the word. The story is so complete, yet leaves you wanting more. The dialogue is wonderful. And the finale….it's a tearjerker in the best way. Those episodes are the sort of fairy tale I wish I'd heard when I was a kid: about a strange, wonderful man who shows up in a funny little box, lands in a place where things are going wrong, doesn't know what's happening but does his best—and when the time comes to step in and be the hero, he tells a poor young woman to be the hero he knows she is. And everybody lives. Just this once, everybody lives.