TwiLyghtSansSparkles

What—dice rolls or free-form?

Currently working on my last class project. I think you all should know that it involves an alternate universe where Sam graduated college, went to grad school, got a teaching certificate, and became the librarian for a low-income public high school. EDIT: On a whim, went back and changed the principal's name. Purple Phoenix is now the principal.

So….does Truthlock automatically have all the information about a question if the answer is found in the present? If he knows whether or not Dave's sister is alive if he says "no" and the answer is "yes," why would he hear "I don't know" if Dave doesn't know himself? It sounds like a cool power; it's just a little confusing.

I took a tutorial on basic coding, and whenever I made a mistake, an error message would pop up saying something to the effect of "YOU DID IT WRONG. READ THE HINTS." Half the time, the hints would be helpful; the other half, I had to review previous lessons just to see what was going on. And my prof wondered why I chose the project that didn't require extensive HTML use.

*eye twitch* HTML and CSS are so touchy. And cranky. Like, "You put a semicolon two spaces over when it was supposed to be three spaces over. Prepare to have your entire page awash in source code!" The grouchiest, most murderous OTP ever. I'm fairly good at those, though I do wish all sites would use the same markup tags. For example, on this site, you need [brackets] to write in bold and strikethroughs, but on another site I used to frequent, *asterisks* around a word would make it bold, and simply using -dashes- around another word would strike through the text. It's very confusing.

I would ship it. I took a graduate-level coding class this semester, and I still barely understand HTML. I can write it passably well, and I can fix it if it's broken, but I still get a little nervous when I look at a page and see numbers and letters all swirled together like an algebra teacher's idea of alphabet soup. So, with that said, I believe the Internet Gods must first wait for the Full Moon of Destiny, after which adequate levels of fairy dust will be gathered and they can blow it into the face of Invisibletononmembersius, the Demon of Hidden Sub-Forums.

I can't wait to hear her explain this one to Arvin.

Florida Man was also kind of an idiot. Although the unconscious bobcat attempt failed, they later succeeded by having a young girl sit on the side of the road, passing out free bobcats.

That sounds like a Reckoners assassination attempt. They knew he wouldn't say no to a free bobcat, and crossing the Florida-Georgia line is his weakness (unbeknownst to him).

There was also one about him almost being mauled when the unconscious bobcat in his trunk regained consciousness. There has to be a story there.

Timeport hasn't been in the Dominion long. Maybe one or two in-game days. He joined around the same time as Quota, so Travis might have gotten that intel. I kind of like Flashpoint. Maybe I'm not supposed to, but he just seems so earnest. His "why must I be so lonely" soliloquies make me an even bigger fan of the Panpoint ship. Oh! Maybe Florida Man's power is shooting beans of electricity?

Say it with me, Sam: "And then Lightwards died." Yes she is. Not as high as the MoNA. Probably 15, maybe 20 or 30 feet at the most. High enough to get out of Streetwise's range. There's other things in the house she can use to add to the propulsion device if they need to rise above an attack.

Agreed. Poor Sam. She's going through far more junk than anyone, save for Lightwards, Lucentia, or Nighthound, should have to go through. Ha! I didn't even see that at first! If there were an Epic who could fire beans of electricity, I might surrender because I couldn't stop laughing. Funtimes post is up. Hopefully, this will help break me out of that slump.

The more Doctor Funtimes saw of Lightwards, the more she regretted giving him that tank. And that hat. And the museum. The Sadrys’ house was the same as ever. Each room was still four walls and a ceiling, with a floor covered in wood or linoleum. There were pictures on the walls and the entire house carried that faint smell like potpourri and clean laundry that all old people seemed to have. Lightwards hadn’t bothered to clean the blood off the carpet or even ask her for a vacuum to get the broken glass. He was a stupid Epic, the sort who used blood to show off how awesome he was. A mean Epic. A dirty meanieface full of lame. Now the dirty meanieface stood at the head of the table, announcing her name and wearing a too-bright smile that she wanted to wipe off his stupid ugly face. “Without her, my conquests thus far would have taken far longer.” He was right. Without her, he wouldn’t have taken the MoNA. Well—maybe he would have, but he wouldn’t have an awesome flying fortress. He shouldn’t have had it, anyway. That was one of the few good ideas he had, and she had been considering something like it anyway. Lightwards just gave her an excuse to try it. She flashed him a smile of her own, but it wasn’t a real one, and she didn’t want it to be. I gave you everything, she didn’t say. I gave you everything you have except your clothes, and you sit next to Lucentia the Snotty Snotface like she made the museum fly. And then his eyes rested on Nathan. His mouth twitched like a rabbit’s nose, like he’d smelled something nasty and wanted it out of the room. His eyes narrowed—just a little, just a little, but they narrowed. I know who you are and I don’t like it, his narrowed eyes said. I like to kill things I don’t like. It’d be such a shame to let that brave little body go to waste. Then his voice said something different: “The fellow to her left is Traveler, a teleporter of no small skill. He’s a highly valuable asset to the Empire, and to our cause as a whole, I think you will find.” Our cause. Not my cause. Our cause. He hadn’t spilled Nathan’s secret, and he hadn’t cut her out of the Empire with his words. Funtimes looked for something to distract her. Something fun and sweet that would turn her thoughts fun and bouncy, something to keep her from thinking about Lightwards’ narrowed eyes and his smile as he punched Nathan— “In fact, I’d wager he and Sightline could learn quite a few tricks from one another. Why don’t the pair of you sit down and learn about each other?” Two of his zombies took hold of Nathan’s chair and pushed it away from her, closer to Sightline. Nathan, amazing as he was, only let his fear flash through his eyes, over his face and toward her, for a second before rising and tugging at his chair, trying to get the zombies to hand it over. They wanted the chair. They kept the chair. Nathan stood aside and let them push it the rest of the way to Sightline. Lightwards had to die. It wouldn’t last, she knew. He could come back from anything that killed him, for as many times as he wanted. But he didn’t like dying. He hated dying. The victor over death licked his lips and begged for mercy when all she did was cover him in gasoline and take out a lighter. Death scared him. Pain scared him. "And of course, this is Funtimes' retinue. Samantha Trattner and Revolution Jones. Not Epics, but she defends them all the same." Death and pain. He deserved both. Lots of both. He snapped his fingers, and feet came tap-tap-tapping across the linoleum floor, carrying an older woman past snotty-face Lucentia and right to her. "So once again--welcome Doctor Funtimes, and welcome to her retinue. My Warrior here shall attend your every need this evening.” The zombie wasn’t anything special. Just an older woman who, for some reason, was made to kneel after she set the cupcake pan in front of her. She had a nice face, a friendly face. The sort of face that made Funtimes think of cookies and cocoa at a scarred wooden table as a blizzard started outside, a blizzard that would cut her off from home and keep her at Grandma’s another night. But her face didn’t look sweet; it looked blank. Like all of Lightwards’ zombies. “Got her just today.” His voice was soft and his eyes were staring right past her, at someone Funtimes turned in her seat to see. "During a visit to a certain bakery downtown. Hopefully the baker does what she's told--I'd hate to have to collect the baker in her stead." Sam. He was looking at Sam, and Sam was about to cry. She had the clipboard raised and was scribbling across it, but she was still upset and it was all Lightwards’ fault. Acid. She’d dunk him in acid, nice and slow. No—not slow. Quick, so none of his stupid zombies could get to him in time. And then when he came back, she’d lock him in a closet. A closet with hungry alligators. And disco balls that cast pretty colors across those ugly alligators, making sure Lightwards could see them as they lunged for him with open jaws and— There was the hollow sound of wood clattering against linoleum, and Nathan was beside her. He smiled down the table at Sightline. “We’ll talk some other time. I’d hate to interrupt this extremely important meeting.” And then he sat. He flashed her a smile, a nice smile, before stretching his arm over her seat and around her shoulders. His arm was tense. Shaking a little, if she felt it right. He was trying not to look at Lightwards, trying to look at Altermind (who had cast a doubtful look at her pudding) but he was still scared of the man who punched him in the stomach and said he wanted to kill him. She blinked. Acid floor. Disco alligators. Nathan. Nathan would be scared of those things. Scared to see them suddenly appear, scared to see her bring them there. He wasn't brave enough to watch Lightwards die— No. He was braver. Much braver. He was better than Lightwards. Funtimes scooted closer to him, tugging his arm closer. He didn’t squeeze her tightly like her last boyfriend, or take her hand in his and talk about how small it was, how he could break it with just his little finger. Nathan let her snuggle up closer to him and smiled at her. He had such a nice smile. How Lightwards could look at it and think anything other than He’s the nicest guy I’ve met in a long time and he’s a million times better than I am was just evidence that he needed to die. But not now. Not with Nathan there. Remington was off finding people who would help. She would stay with Lightwards long enough to find a way to make his death permanent, and then they would do it. "Final introductions?” That was Altermind. Funtimes didn’t like the way he looked at Nathan, or the way he looked at her pudding, but she did like the tone he took with Lightwards. “I haven't even been able to name my partners here. Flashpoint, my lieutenant. Intervention and Mare. Sightline, you know, and Summoner and Smoky." Each one was pointed at as he gave their name. Funtimes waved, but they didn’t wave back. Poopie heads. She needed to distract herself. Keep from killing Lightwards. He deserved it, but Nathan didn't deserve to see it. Or Sam. Or Revolution Sunburst Jones. She looked down at the table, then at her chair. Wood. Boring, boring wood. She didn’t mind walking on boring things, and she had been fine with sitting on boring things up until Lightwards looked like he wanted to kill Nathan again. But she didn’t want to sit on a boring thing, and Lightwards needed to be reminded of how lucky he was to have her. Funtimes grinned, holding the sides of her chair. She envisioned what she wanted—glittering orange plastic, not too wide but tall enough to let her see over the top of the table, with an armrest and a place to put the soda she had just decided she wanted. Wood became bouncy, springy and fun. Her palms stuck to the sides just a bit. Nathan gave her a half-smile. She liked his half-smiles just as much as his whole ones. “Nice.” She giggled. The color of the chair made her think less about how much she wanted to kill Lightwards. So long as she focused on the color, the way the glitter sat suspended in the plastic as light shone through it all, she didn’t think so much about how good it would be to see that meanieface’s eyes filled with fear, hear him say how sorry he was to oppose her, to threaten Nathan and make Sam cry, how he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known how powerful she really was…. “Impressive, Doctor.” Altermind gave her an approving nod. His illusion did, anyway. She wondered what his real self looked like. Was he ugly? Sort of ugly? Maybe he had big bulgy eyes and hair that stuck out like Einstein’s and he wore clown shoes the color of dead mice. He moved on, laying out pictures of various Epics and named some of their powers. Funtimes took a few spoonfuls of the pudding no one seemed interested in eating, turned plate and pudding into a notepad, and pulled the first picture of Electro closer to her. She studied the picture. Stupid face, mean curve of the lips. Eyes still on the picture, she waved a hand over the notepad, duplicating Electro’s likeness onto the second page, using the first page as ink for the image. There, she wanted to tell Lightwards. I made this for YOU. If you don’t stop giving Nathan that glary-eyeball and making Sam cry, I’ll turn it back into pudding right as you’re looking at it. Then you’ll run around Portland looking for an evil bowl of pudding! HA! After the first few Epics, Altermind shut up and let Flashpoint take over. Funtimes wasn’t sure how much she liked him yet. He had smiled at her when she walked in, but he’d also smiled at Sam and Revolution, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she liked his smiles. He didn’t glare at Nathan, though, or give him the look Altermind had given him, so she decided Flashpoint was okay. For now. Funtimes was just in the middle of copying Streetwise’s photograph when Altermind spoke. “Doctor, would you mind fixing this problem? We wouldn't want Corpsemaker to know all about the plans we make here. Your floating museum seemed to do the trick, but I don't think we need anything too drastic here.” She blinked. “He can connect with cities,” Nathan said, jogging her memory of something she’d only been half-listening to. “So he knows about this meeting. But not about the Museum, since it’s not in the city, correct?” He looked to Flashpoint for confirmation and received a nod. Funtimes frowned. How much did this Streetwise guy know? Did he know about Remington? Maybe, maybe not. No—don’t think about that now. Think about what they need, what Altermind is asking for. Fix the problem. Make the house fly. Her frown became a grin. Fix the problem. Make the house fly. Show Lightwards what a dummy dummerton he really was. He couldn’t make a house fly. He could kill a housefly and make it into a zombie housefly, but he couldn’t make a flying house. Funtimes giggled. “Okie doki loki.” She took Nathan’s hand in hers, stood, and walked a few paces away from the table. She wanted to turn Lightwards’ chair into an electric one—no, no, turn it into a toilet. A toilet would be better. Later. Now, she needed to fix the house. After grinning up at Nathan, who looked a little less nervous but not much, Funtimes envisioned what she wanted. Gravatonics to make it float. A propulsion system, a strong one, to put it in the air. Glowing lights to make everyone see what she’d done. She stamped her foot, closing her eyes, picturing what she wanted and how she wanted it, sending her orders into the foundation. Lightwards would see what an idiot he was. He would see and feel as stupid as he was. There was a small tremor and a dozen cracking sounds as the foundation changed. “Or death, of course. There’s always that.” “Bug me.” It wasn’t the least of the options by any means, but it was the only practical one. The messenger would find no one, now that Tom and Mary were twice dead. No one he knew had mobile service, and there was no one to call. That these Reckoners assumed he could afford that luxury rankled, but he didn’t voice his irritation. It wasn't their fault their tea parties kept them so far out of the real world they forgot what most people didn't have. Lightwards, he reminded himself. This was for Lightwards. For enlisting others in the fight against him, others more stable than the glittering, childlike Epic who had trapped him in tar. He would tell her about the bug later. See what she could do.

Altermind: "Imbeciles, all of them. Except for maybe the goth. But everyone else is an imbecile." Flashpoint: "Heyyyy....those girls are cute. Hi, cute girls!" The contrast amuses me.

Nathan knew that look. It was the look of an Epic in the throes of self-pity; in Lightwards' case, most likely for the chair and the veiled threats from Funtimes. Lightwards saw his lot poor enough to pout over. It was only a matter of time before he escalated into outright complaints. Nathan didn't know if anyone would catch the lyrics. He hoped they wouldn't, but sang softly anyway. "My maid is cleaning the bathroom so I can't take a show-er...." Sam's voice answered. "When I do, the water starts getting cold after an hour.." "I couldn't order off the breakfast menu cause I slept in till two." "Then I filled up on bread, didn't leave any room for tiramisu." The necromancer's face was growing steadily redder, and Funtimes chose that moment to skip to the chorus. "I got--first world, FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!"

Neener neener, Lightwards. Neener neener.

Go ahead. She'll turn her chair into an inflatable orange thing with cup holders, narrow enough to not crowd the table but big enough to be noticed. If he looks impressed, she will set about trying to engineer a smaller version of what's holding the MoNA up for her and Nathan to impress Altermind and further annoy Lightwards.

If he behaves, his chair will remain a chair. So he had better be good at standing up quickly so he doesn't fall in. Yeah, she would. Maybe she'll notice Sam, but what Lightwards did to Nathan will have her plenty upset.

Aha! She needed a way to show off in front of Altermind, and turning her chair into something more fun would be just the way to go. (She may or may not turn Lightwards' chair into a toilet at some point. ) Just trying to figure out precisely how upset she should be, whether or not she could see Sam immediately or if she'd have to turn.

Sam was seated behind Funtimes? Or behind and to the side? The post was fine. I've been reading back over some of mine, though, and they seem so...rote. Hopefully that'll end when finals do. Makes her own energy indeed.

You tread a thin line, Lightwards. A very thin line indeed. Methinks I'll give part of the next portion to Funtimes so you can see just how much she's holding herself back.

I know how you feel. I have two projects due this week, plus a test next week. For a grad student, that's a lot. Especially since I'm working full time. On another note, my de-stressing method of finding funny stuff on the internet has led me to the best minor Epic idea ever: Florida Man. Florida Man is the most interesting man ever. He has his own Twitter feed, which shares headlines featuring his name. A few highlights: Florida Man sees car being towed, puts on bulletproof vest, gas mask, attacks tow truck with samurai sword Florida Man attempts to steal chainsaw by stuffing it down shirt, attempts getaway on bike, also stolen Florida Man assaults friend with bucket during fight over whether or not acquaintance was dead Florida Man attempts to avoid arrest by hugging palm tree Drunk Florida Man subdued by one-armed man with hammer I don't know about you guys, but I think Florida Man needs to find his way to Oregon ASAP.

Wait—how did he get to Newcago? And how scared should we be of what else he did while he was there?