#1 page down like 89 to go

[squid-bunny-msi]

HOPELESS FROM THE LEFT RIGHTS IS A PRE-MSI SONG AND IT'S THE EARLIEST RECORD EVER BY JAMES EURINGER (1989)

BEAR WITH ME STAY TIL THE END I SWEAR THIS THEORY MAKES SENSE. I can't draw so I just be typing words🤣🤣😂😂

First off, this theory isn't mine, but from a reddit user in a 2021 post, Most I'm doing is bringing this up to you guys in a more ""condensed way"". (I finished and I realized I just made it longer fuck me)

We know Jimmy has a habit of saving songs for later releases, like with YRTA and IF. But I don’t think Hopeless is a track that was made 4 or 6 years ago for the album. I actually think it’s from about 20 years before Bad Choices Made Easy (2010), and it's an 89-90's song and here’s why

1-Jimmy's voice and singing style belong more to the PINK /Tight era than the HIL or even YRTA era

Jimmy's voice at 40 is deeper and more mature than when he was 20, along with a different singing style.

I'll leave a comparison of Eat Those Words (2013), Panty Shot (1997), Pussy all night (1998) and finally Hopeless (circa 1989).

1-40 yo Jimmy vs 20 yo Jimmy

2-Jimmy's high notes and falsettos in the 90s

3-Hopeless

2-Michael Andrew Pascal, pre-MSI friend of Jimmy could be in this song and is credited on The Left Rights:

In the screenshots of old copyrighted songs by James Euringer pre-1990, we can see he has the pseudonym of "JAMES NEMO", while also Steve and a Michael Pascal guy are also here.

James is credited for words, music, performance, arrangement

Steve is credited for music, performance, and arrangement

Pascal is also credited for arrangement and performance, meaning that Pascal was physically involved in the songs of these times (singing or dancing along with James and Steve).

(This also appears on Jimmy Urine's page on the MSI wikipedia, the songs are all around 1989 max. )

Now, listen to the beginning of Hopeless again. Do you recognize three different voices? It seems like Andrew starts with the 'Here we go, break it down' part James says 'No bass, no synth, just da beats' in a peppy voice and sings 'I met this girl and she was so fine,' and then Steve delivers the 'I've traveled far, I've met the girlies' part (?) or maybe it's the 'I love 'em and leave 'em! I shove 'em and heave 'em' line. (To be honest, I'm not really familiar with Steve's voice u_u).

On top of that, look who is credited in the Thank you section of Bad Choices made easy (scan by Cain @tghtr )

The original poster said that Andrew Pascal is credited here, but not in the rest of the thank you sections of MSI albums, I don't have MSI's whole discography to check their Thank you sections, but for people that do, I encourage to check this up yourselves!

3-They don't sound like they're in a studio:

You can clearly hear a reverb at the beginning of the song because it doesn’t seem like they’re in a studio, but rather in an empty room. It's not a reverb done digitally. This could be because it was just a casual recording, something you’d record on a cassette tape recorder. All 1989 recordings of Jimmy are put under the category of "sound cassette"

Considering this, there are high chances that Hopeless is the EARLIEST RECORD of Jimmy Urine singing, being 1989, even before Pink. Could also not be 1989 if Andrew was still around making beats with Jimmy but weren't copyrighted in the site, James Nemo is still registered in max 1993. But the songs where Andrew is included are max 1989.

Jimmy said multiple times that he re-uses old songs if they sound good to him. So this wouldn't be new, but still fascinating.

This is getting too long brother they dont pay me enough, like and reblog if u read allat and lmk what do u think 😱

[eyneyke]

Felix's realisation pt.2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 9 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

Felix was still reeling from the Reddit threads as he tried to regain some composure on the live stream. Jack, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, grinning as he scrolled through more comments about Sam. The chat, of course, was absolutely relentless.

Fan 77: “Felix, you really didn’t know the Max Sam was talking about was world champion Max?! 😂”

Fan 78: “Jack’s a secret F1 nerd, and Felix didn’t even know it!”

Fan 79: “Felix, you need to bring Sam on stream to address the people thirsting for him. We demand it.”

---

Felix leaned in, squinting at the chat. "Okay, okay, slow down! You guys really want Sam to come on stream? Why? He's just my little brother... who apparently has ridiculously popular arms?" He glanced at Jack, bewildered.

Jack threw his hands up, barely able to contain his laughter. “Felix, the internet thirsts for anyone remotely attractive, and Sam happens to be a good-looking dude who's also a genius with cars. And apparently, Max Verstappen's personal favourite. You should see the stuff people are saying!”

Felix groaned, rubbing his face. “Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?”

Jack laughed harder. “Because you definitely will!”

---

Fan 80: "We demand Sam live reaction! Felix, do it! Bring Sam back on the stream!"

Fan 81: "Jack being an F1 nerd is actually the best reveal of the year!"

Fan 82: "Felix: Sam is just my little brother, Internet: obsesses"

---

Jack kept reading the comments aloud, trying to get Felix more hyped about the situation. “Look at this one: Sam Kjellberg is the most humble, under-the-radar engineer with the best arms in motorsport. Discuss.”

Felix laughed and threw his hands up. “Why are you guys like this?! He’s just doing his job! Now people are making it sound like Sam’s a model or something.”

---

Fan 83: “Low-key Sam is giving model vibes though, let’s be real.”

Fan 84: “This is the thirst trap of the century and Felix has no idea.”

Fan 85: “Pewds, you better tell Sam to check out Reddit—there’s a shrine to his arms now.”

---

Felix was caught off guard, practically choking on his laughter. “A shrine to his arms? Are you guys for real?!”

Jack was grinning from ear to ear. “Felix, Reddit is a wild place. They’ll create fan pages for anything. Sam just happens to be their latest obsession. Oh, and Max egging them on? That’s like adding fuel to the fire!”

Felix leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “You guys, this is insane. Sam is probably going to kill me if he finds out how deep this obsession runs.”

---

Fan 86: “Max Verstappen, F1 champion and Sam Kjellberg’s #1 fan.”

Fan 87: “Felix, do you even realise how many photos of Sam are floating around now? He’s the F1 fandom’s new crush.”

Fan 88: “Jack should host an F1 watch party with Felix, that’s the content we need now!”

---

Felix laughed again, reading the chat. "Jack, I’m not even into F1, but apparently, you're a huge fan?"

Jack shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "Guilty as charged. I've been watching F1 for years, man. Red Bull’s my team. I even bought merch—don’t judge me!”

The chat erupted with excitement.

---

Fan 89: “Jack as a Red Bull Racing stan is the best plot twist.”

Fan 90: “Jack doing F1 watch parties confirmed!”

Fan 91: “Jack, are you a Max fan? Admit it!”

---

Felix pointed at Jack, laughing even harder. “See? Now they’re dragging you into it! You’ve exposed yourself!”

Jack shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I love Max and the Red Bull team, but this obsession with Sam is something else. Honestly, I didn’t even know it was unknown that he was PewDiePie's brother until now! That’s just insane to me.”

Felix shrugged, grinning at the camera. “I guess we didn't really give people anything to go with about Sam.”

The chat was on fire, throwing more questions at the duo, but Felix was now fully into it, rolling with the punches.

---

Fan 92: “Sam needs to tell Max about this live stream!”

Fan 93: “Jack is geeking out over Max. This is amazing.”

Fan 94: “Can you IMAGINE Felix, Jack, and Max all in the same room talking about Sam?!”

---

Felix leaned forward, scrolling through the chat. "Alright, alright. So, let me get this straight—you want me to bring Sam on stream just to watch him react to people thirsting over him?"

The chat flooded with "YES!" comments, and Jack burst into laughter again. “I mean, yeah, Felix. This is what the people want.”

Felix shook his head, half-amused, half-incredulous. “I’ll try, but no promises, he is a busy guy! And you guys better behave if he agrees to come on next time!”

---

Fan 95: “We make no promises, Felix.”

Fan 96: “Felix bringing Sam to a thirst trap live is all we want in 2024.”

Fan 97: “This is what peak internet content looks like. Jack, Felix, and Sam in the same stream.”

---

Felix sighed dramatically, throwing his arms up. “Fine, fine. I’ll let him know. But seriously, you guys are wild. Poor Sam has no idea what’s waiting for him on the internet.”

Jack grinned mischievously. “You know, Felix, we could invite Max too. Make it a whole thing. F1 world meets PewDiePie world.”

Felix gave Jack a look. “Don’t you dare put me in the middle of that.”

But the chat was already losing it at the thought of Max and Sam both appearing in the same live stream, and Jack was clearly enjoying the chaos.

---

Fan 98: “Max and Sam in the same live? Let’s manifest this.”

Fan 99: “Jack, please! Make this happen!”

Fan 100: “Felix, Jack, Sam, and Max. The internet wouldn’t survive.”

---

Felix groaned but couldn’t hide his grin. “Okay, this has gone too far. You guys are insane. I’m ending this stream before you rope me into some F1 live stream with Max and Sam.”

Jack laughed, but before Felix could click off, the chat lit up again, and Felix couldn’t help but laugh as he read the comments pouring in.

---

Fan 101: “Felix, you can’t escape now! You’re in too deep.”

Fan 102: “Felix, bring back Sam and give us what we want!”

---

Felix shook his head, finally closing the stream with a grin. “Alright, alright. See you next time, you crazy people. Maybe Sam will join… maybe.”

And with that, the live ended, leaving the internet buzzing with anticipation for the possibility of Sam Kjellberg’s next appearance.

[bumlets-appreciation-blog]

Six Years of Newsies Observations

(Post Deletion Repost)

I’ve been a Newsies fan for almost six years now and I have this gigantic list of slightly deranged observations and opinions about the movie that I’ve been curating for that time. Since the list is 16 pages/348 points long, I won’t be posting everything but I will be posting the highlights. Please keep in mind that I started the list when I was 17 and I had a massive crush on most of the characters at the time. Hope y'all enjoy!

1. I did not fucking realize that a lot of those random ass black and white behind the scene pictures of the boys were also in the compilation of pictures during the intro. I feel like such an idiot!

5. Bumlets sleeps in the bunk next to the window on the other side of Mush and just flips to the other side of the bed to go back to sleep when Kloppman comes in to wake them up. It’s very relatable.

10. Jack is just casually flicking shaving cream at Mush for no reason whatsoever.

11. Blink really was about to punch Crutchy. “Equal rights, equal fights” indeed.

13. If I remember correctly, the real Mush Meyers got his name either because of his skin color or because he was really sweet on his girl.

19. I genuinely don’t understand what Kloppman is hoping to accomplish by counting the boys as they come dancing down the stairs.

21. Love that little redhead kid by the way. He’s so aggressive.

33. “How ‘bout a crooked politician?” “Hey stupid, that ain’t news no more!” Some things never change ¯\_(ツ)_/¯!

36. I love the older boys playing with the younger ones. They really are brothers.

42. I first saw this movie when I was seventeen and I still don’t understand the “shrimp” insult. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense, it’s just worded in the most ridiculous way.

45. I love the close-up of Les’s blank face. I genuinely do.

47. Bumlets swings his stick around a lot. How many people got hit while filming?

49. Maybe I’m biased because Weasel’s a dickhead, but I feel like if you’re a dickhead who works primarily with teenage boys and you have a ridiculous name, you should be prepared to be made fun of. They probably wouldn’t even make fun of you as much if you weren’t such a dickhead!!!

52. That poor two-headed baby in Brooklyn.

57. “This is my brother Davey. He’s older,” “Oh, no kiddin’”

59. Bumlets has a higher voice than I expected. It’s not ridiculously high or anything, but I just look at Dominic and expect something deeper. I do love how it sounds, though.

63. Excuse me, that poor three-headed baby in Brooklyn.

64. I feel like if you wanted a good headline, maybe write about the nude corpse instead of the three-week-long trolley strike.

72. “All this for one sip of beer?” Best line hands down.

74. Jack screams like he actually fell off the roof; the little drama queen.

78. Les should be an actor. Medda agrees.

79. Also, can Medda marry me? She’s gorgeous and I love her.

80. The first few times I watched this scene, I thought Medda called the boys her “kids” instead of her “guests.” Sometimes, I like to pretend, though.

85. Les is smoking a piece of licorice! He’s so precious!!!

89. Sarah should’ve had more screen time. She doesn’t have much, but we can see she has such good bones that it breaks my heart that we didn’t see more of her.

96. Dave clearly has no idea what “carrying the banner” actually means.

97. I was a mess at seventeen, but I can’t imagine being that broken and lonely. I will defend movie!Jack with my life.

99. I unironically love the Santa Fe dance break.

101. “Nobody told the horse.”

106. I hate that they turned the “sleeping on the streets” line into a joke in the Broadway show. It’s horrifying that this is something kids have to worry about.

112. David tells Les to shut up after he says strike.

116. I love that one kid with the bowler hat who’s super excited about beating up other kids. His energy is unparalleled.

118. Itey trying to encourage Dave is sweet.

120. Having Les be the only one standing other than Dave during the “and the young stand tall” line is such a great shot.

123. The same number of boys go to Queens and the East Side. Clearly, Jack knew that Pie-Eater, Snoddy, and Snipeshooter were not going to be as effective as Bumlets, Specs, and Skittery in spreading the word about the strike.

131. Yes, Dave is a Walking Mouth and we love him for it.

132. I love that Spot is a tiny fifteen-year-old boy, but he’s clearly the scariest person in the city. He’s running a newsboy mafia, for God’s sake.

134. David should’ve sung more. Like solos and everything.

135. Bumlets has bouncy hair and I love it.

141. I’m lowkey obsessed with the “Solomona and Hart Used Bookstore” behind Denton.

142. When he’s running up the ramp, Bumlets tosses his head to get the hair out of his eyes and it’s so good.

144. Skittery was trying so hard to jump on that kid’s back and it’s just not working out.

147. So many of the younger boys have sticks. Are they trying to copy Bumlets, Skittery, or both?

150. I bet the boys feel awful about Crutchy. I guarantee that Kloppman gave them the worst lecture of their lives when they got home without him.

153. I saw someone say that Movie!Crutchy not wanting to be carried was a sign that he had internalized ableism and I kind of want to scream just thinking about it. Maybe Crutchy just has boundaries.

155. “Seize the Day” (choral version) is so pretty. I’m sure all of these men and teenage boys would be thrilled to hear that I think they sound “pretty.”

157. I’ve got a still of Bumlets in that scene and if I ever make a Newsies blog, that’s what the icon is gonna be. I’m gonna try and find either a GIF or a picture of the newspaper photo for the banner. (AND I DID!!!)

161. Jack looking at David right before yelling, “Let’s soak ‘em for Crutchy!” was an apology because it was literally the exact opposite of what David just told them to do.

162. I just love how all of these grown-ass men are so eager to beat up children. It’s so charming, isn’t it? Fuck all of them.

164. “Never fear, Brooklyn is here!”

168. I think if I had been younger when I’d seen this movie for the first time, I would’ve imprinted on Spot Conlon like a baby duck. Instead, I was seventeen and now Bumlets is stuck with me.

169. Bumlets smiles into the camera and then changes to a surprised look. I think Dominic Lucero forgot he wasn’t supposed to be smiling until the last second.

170. Jack “No Pictures” Kelly smiling like an angel in a group full of beautiful disasters is my aesthetic.

177. I can wax poetic for hours about Bumlets’s hair, but when Snoddy runs his hands through his hair, it’s just as beautiful.

179. Giving Race’s “Sheepshead” line to a different newsie in the Broadway musical was so stupid. His name is literally Racetrack!

182. The exchange Race had with Itey was adorable.

185. I love Racetrack’s voice.

186. Bumlets’s hair goes flip.

189. Nothing’s better than watching a grown-ass man crawl on the floor to get to his place for the next shot.

190. FAN SPIN!!!!!!

192. Bumlets is the last to get the paper and I guarantee that he gave it to Kloppman as soon as they got back to the Lodging House.

196. “Our man Denton!”

197. “That’s Jack!” “You know this boy?” “No, never heard of him!” Jesus Christ Crutchy.

199. “That’s an unusual name for these parts” is on par with Crutchy’s conversation with Snyder in terms of ridiculousness. Bless you, Specs.

204. Sarah is so pretty like wtf.

208. “It’s the same sun as here.” I need more of Sarah gently calling out the boys on their stupidity. I bet she’d do numbers on Skittery and his misanthropy.

212. Robert Duvall really threw his whole-ass heart and soul into this movie.

215. I saw the theater exterior in pictures from Universal’s back lot. I tried picking out other locations, but since they’re more dressed up in the movie, it was hard to know for sure which locations were which.

218. “High Times, Hard Times” is such a fun song.

222. Blink, Race, and Medda dancing together is cute.

223. Bumlets, Swifty, and Snoddy are dancing behind them.

230. “Gotta kiss Medda goodbye even though I’m about to be arrested!” — Jack Kelly

233. Seeing Medda try to defend Race is heartbreaking.

234. “For God’s sake, he’s just a child, can’t you see that?” Fucking ouch.

241. “On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor.”

245. Les loves Jack so much.

249. It’s really sweet that Mr. Tibby tried to turn down payment from Denton and even sweeter that Denton paid anyway because Lord knows those boys eat a lot, and giving food away for free like Tibby was gonna (I’m assuming) would be a huge loss for him.

255. “Racetrack, watch him,” and no hesitation on Race’s part to grab Les.

257. Jack lowkey implying that Pulitzer fought for the Confederacy is hysterical.

260. Dave damn near killed a man with the horse trick he pulled.

262. The “Santa Fe” reprise is heartbreaking.

267. Spot was gonna rip Jack’s head off lol.

268. They had to drag him to the back of the group to keep the angry kitten from committing murder.

273. Les is too good for this world and all of the older boys trying to comfort him was heartwarming.

278. I think the little redhead boy is on strike, too! He’s not in the distribution center and it looks like Morris was doing his job.

281. Sweet face? Is that really the best he could come up with?

286. Jack running to David’s rescue in a shaft of sunlight is cinematic poetry.

291. Dave is a snarky little shit.

296. Mush looks so happy to see Jack.

299. Race asking the kids if they know how to read is very considerate and period accurate. Maybe he read the Banner to the kids who couldn’t read.

302. “Disgraceful Denty!”

306. Sweet little Les and his twenty older brothers.

310. I can find Bumlets in the little end shot of “The World Will Know” reprise with all of the other kids. I scared a friend doing that.

312. “It’s like the end of the world! Oh dear, I didn’t say that.”

315. Is Pulitzer aware that the kids probably can’t hear him? Is he aware that they hate him and wouldn’t listen even if they could?

318. Jack tells Les first!!

321. Skittery and Tumbler hugging and then doing the spit shake asdfghjkl!!!

324. “Make friends with the rats. Share what you’ve got in common.”

327. You can kind of see Race and Bumlets talking behind Denton. I think Bumlets is telling Race about Roosevelt.

331. Les is crying! That’s illegal!!

332. Blink’s Chin Tap™

336. Mush and Dave have an underrated friendship.

338. “I got family here.” My heart!

344. I don’t know if I’m jealous of Jack or Sarah. (I wrote this part when I was seventeen and still think it’s funny)

345. Bumlets, Blink, and Snoddy are hanging onto each other!!!

348. The final shot is Tumbler being an adorable bean <3!!

[sherlocksmethlab]

My first ever Sherlock Holmes BBC fanfic is of a rewrite on how i think Season 4 could've went. Sherlock Holmes Season 4 Rewrite titled "Studium Fraudis" is Latin for "The Study In Fraud". The reason why this is my first and why it came out late is because i started the show until S3 when i was 8 and finished S4 this year (turning 20).

This work takes the context that we had that ended in Season 3 which means that Moriarty is back, Magnussen has been shot by Sherlock, Mary with a child and a retired assassin. Instead of taking new cases, Sherlock faces the Moriarty problem head on. And instead of destroying Sherlock's and John's relationship like S4 did, I fixed it (kinda).

Here's a short read from Chapter 2 as Chapter 1 is a short prologue.

Link here:

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ short read below :

"Mary and I wanted to say," John glanced at Mary. "We wanted to thank you."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and then furrowed them. His hands behind his back like a soldier.

"Huh, I thought we've cleared that up," he tilted his head, still wondering why they were stunned by yesterday's arrest for the murdering of Magnussen.

Mary lightly smiled at Sherlock, "well, we wanted you to know that we're grateful that you made it out alive as well."

Sherlock groaned in disgust, "oh save your sentiments, there's another enemy amidst," turning his back again to look through the window.

John cleared his throat, and bit his lip.

"So have you figured it out?" he asked. "You know.. deducted yet?"

Sherlock turned to John and Mary tilting his head once more, as he smiled saying "you're right."

"Am I?" unsure, John asked.

"I need a second opinion from a normal mind," he flipped the pages off a nearby file written in red 'Reinchenbach'.

Sherlock flip the autopsy as he recited "89", finally reaching the page all while reading it aloud.

" Says here, the body of Sherlock Holmes was fresh,

so no possibilities of having a body from the morgue to act as S.Holmes' dead body."

John furrowed his eyebrows, "who wrote that?"

"Molly," Sherlock broke his stare at the autopsy to look at John and stared back down again.

"She did the autopsy report on my fake body which was Moriarty's actual body, but now that he's back.." Sherlock sighed.

"Mary, talk, I can't have two slow minds in the room," Sherlock urged her to give her second opinion on who this new Moriarty is, rather than being a bit slow like John Watson.

Clearing her throat, Mary stood up from the couch to see the mind map behind her, pinned with photos and papers scribbled with names.

"Well, if the body is truely Jim Moriarty," she started. "We'll know if the Moriarty we're dealing now isn't the real deal, probably one of the people he used to work with seeking out on his instructions or.."

Sherlock lifted his head up. "Or what?"

"You know, revenge?"

"I hate how human emotion always seem to be in the equation," Sherlock swiped the thought of revenge in the head. "Moriarty doesn't seem like the person to have romantic interest in his criminal work." he grunted.

"So when are we going?" John cut off their conversation.

"Going where?"

"To the cemetry?" John asked.

"Oh, you've caught up?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, surprised that nobody had to explain it to John bit by bit for him to get it.

John purged his lips, "I'm an adult and MARRIED at that, of course I can gather context clues."

Sherlock, at this point, had ignored him and mumbled to himself again.

" So if we successfully locate Jim Moriarty's body at the cemetry and identify it's his, we won't need to expect much from this Moriarty copycat. "

Sherlock turned to John, "phone," he urged.

John, stunned gave him his phone.

"My phone was in my coat, beside you, but this works as well," Sherlock cheekily took it from John's hands.

"Who are you calling?" Mary asked.

"I'm texting," Sherlock corrected her. "I'm on my way now." he handed the phone to Mary as he passed by John to grab his coat.

"Sherlock?" John asked, "where are you off to?"

Accompanied by loud rushing steps down the stairway, Sherlock shouted "to the second act!" before stopping to glance up the doorway to see John, "and bring a shovel with you if you don't mind!"

Sherlock went down as he plotted in his mind, the steps to know if this Moriarty was real.

" step one, dig the body. "

[samobservessonic]

I had a bit of time off work during the bank holiday, so I decided to do something I've been meaning to do for a while and sort my bag of surviving StC issues into order. Maisy helped, as you can see

The first thing I can say is that I found my copy of issue 86 and can confirm that it finally no longer smells of the Planet Krapz free sample that came with it! Hooray!

But sadly, these really were comics that belonged to a little kid who loved them, but didn't know how to care for them. There's whole pages like this one that have been drawn on with biro

This was the only one I could find where the Data Strip was removed, so I guess I did send one in at some point

There's also two identical issues, but neither of them have covers. What madness went on here? I wish I knew

A surviving poster! There weren't many of these, since most of the posters covered my walls as a kid, until one day my younger brother ripped them down :(

Here's the finished piles, with issues sorted into numerical order on the left and the quite large amount of coverless issues that I didn't bother sorting on the right

In the bag was also a Sonic Adventure Gamebook that I forgot I had! It was also drawn on. I like that they're like "chase Knuckles away and then go to the party". Early European canon Sally Acorn is also there

Lastly, for my own reference, I made a list of issues I have and need for if I ever want to track them down on eBay. It's a shame, because I did have every issue from 80 up until I think the end of the series, even after it went into reprints only. But there are huge chunks that didn't survive various house moves. I thought I'd share the list too, in case anyone was interested:

Own:

39 40 76 82 85 86 92 96 97 98 99 101 102 103 104 106 107 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 117 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 144 145 154 155 157 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 178 Total Sonic Special

Own, but severely damaged:

78 79 80 81 83 87 88 89 91 100 105 108 137 156 158 169 183 197

Don't Own:

1-38 41-75 77 84 90 93 94 95 116 118 138 139 140 141 142 143 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 159-168 177 179 180 181 182 184-196 198-end All other specials

[komatsudaya]

RKRN Komatsuda Yuusaku Appearances (w/summaries and translations)

The older Komatsuda brother has appeared sporadically throughout Nintama Rantarou over the years. Unfortunately, he was excised from several of the anime adaptations of manga chapters he appeared in, so people who haven't read the manga aren't getting all the Yuusaku content that they deserve. That's a problem which needs fixing!

Like my previous Rikichi+Komatsuda RKRN guide, I put together a little something showing all the times Yuusaku appears in the manga, with summaries and translations.

Quick list:

Vol 32, pages 31-32, 34, 36-37, 39, 42 Vol 33, page 188 Vol 35, pages 43-49 (voice appears on page 52) Vol 38, page 240 Vol 41, pages 30, 146-147, 154, 161 Vol 47, pages 126, 180 Vol 65, pages 11-15, 63-65, 67-70, 72, 82, 86, 89-90, 102, 107, 109, 119, 127, 148, 221-223, 235

Summaries and translations

Vol 32

Pages 31-32, 34, 36-37, 39, 42

Yuusaku's first appearance - and he didn't even make it into the anime adaptations of these chapters (episodes 11-22~24, 11-76~78)!

Komatsuda comes across a leaflet advertising ninja work and, still hoping to be a professional ninja, goes to find if he can get a job. He brings his brother with and runs into Rantarou, who came with his mother.

They meet up with everyone else looking to find work and are given their task: they must sneak into a certain castle’s outpost and retrieve some hidden documents. Rantarou spots Dokutake ninja among the job-seekers, raising his suspicions. Dokutake ninja would never go looking for other ninja work, he says; according to what Yuusaku has heard, Dokutake castle pays well. Perhaps that's something Yuusaku learned when Komatsuda went to take Dokutake's employment exam?

Yuusaku gets one more line, asking if Rantarou knows one of the ninja they meet. After that, Rikichi disguises himself as Yuusaku and takes the man's place without anybody else knowing. Where did Yuusaku go? Home, most likely. I like to imagine Rikichi pulled Yuusaku aside, explained the situation, and told Yuusaku he'd take care of it. Yuusaku would probably say that sounded fine and to take care of his brother. Maybe Yuusaku knew about Rikichi because his brother had written about him in one of his letters?

Let's take a moment to appreciate all the cool and fun expressions we get to see "Yuusaku" make when Rikichi is disguised as him.

Vol 33

Page 188

Yuusaku was cut from the anime adaptation (episode 12-67) of this chapter as well.

Some of the students of 1-Ha have noticed that Komatsuda has been unusually competent compared to usual. When the students ask Yoshino and Doi, both of them say Komatsuda's been the same as always; Komatsuda even lost the key to the explosives warehouse. Class 1-Ha goes to search for the key and ends up falling down a hole and getting hit by sleeping gas. Isuke, the last to fall asleep, finds Komatsuda kidnapping Shouzaemon.

When Isuke runs into Komatsuda after the incident, Komatsuda claims that he doesn't know anything about Shouzaemon being kidnapped. Luckily, Isuke remembers something that clues him in to the fact that the Komatsuda he saw in the hole was actually a fake. The Komatsuda he saw was wearing a uniform that had the "Clerk" tag sewn into the shirt. But during the last summer break, his family's dye shop got a request from a certain someone.

Yuusaku requested that the tag be directly dyed onto Komatsuda's uniform so the boy wouldn't have to worry about dropping and losing it. "What a sweet big brother," Isuke's mother comments - I agree.

Vol 35

Pages 43-49 (voice appears on page 52)

The anime adaptation of this chapter (episode 13-05) marks the first time Yuusaku appears in the anime - hooray!

It's summer break, and while Rantarou is in town to sell his family's rice harvest, he comes across Yoshino. Yoshino had mentioned conducting a house visit before everyone left for the break, and all the students figured the only person he could have been talking about visiting was Komatsuda. Rantarou asks if Yoshino is still going to Komatsuda's house, but Yoshino says that he's of two minds about the whole thing. Is it okay to tell Komatsuda's family that the boy isn't cut out for clerical work? Rantarou is worried that this means Komatsuda is going to be fired, so he decides to tag along with Yoshino to Komatsudaya.

Yuusaku stays at the store, and Yoshino tells Komatsuda to get ready to head back to the school because there's plenty of preparations to take care of for the next semester. Komatsuda packs a knapsack as big as himself and is crushed under its weight. "Ah, Shuusaku," Yuusaku calls from inside, "are you okay out there?" Komatsuda, still stuck under his belongings, squeaks out, "Oniicha~n."

Vol 38

Page 240

Yuusaku is the star of this volume's 4koma.

Much like how Doi learned to parse what the kids of 1-Ha say, Yuusaku can decipher what his brother means because he had plenty of practice while growing up with the boy. It takes a Komatsuda to understand a Komatsuda.

Vol 41

Pages 30, 146-147, 154, 161

Kirimaru slept through the announcement that the school's autumn break would be starting, so he didn't line up any part-time work. "Why not come work at our place for a bit?" Komatsuda offers. "If you ask my brother, I'm sure he'll hire you on for a little while." True to Komatsuda's word, Kirimaru is hired as a part-time worker for the day.

Kirimaru returns to Doi's house the next day. He mentions that the store received a strange order. To make fans, you fold the paper into a pattern that creates holes that you can then insert the bamboo frame in. However, a customer wanted a large order of separate paper and frames. Concerned, Doi asks if the store took the order.

(Yuusaku appears in this chapter's anime adaptation, episode 16-02)

Doi suspects the customer was someone who plans to use the fans to perform the Kasumiougi no Jutsu, where ninja place poison inside a fan then blow the poison at their enemies. The group manages to track down the customer, a Suppontake ninja, and find out what he's scheming. It turns out the Suppontake are targeting the lord of Chamidareamitake castle. The lord goes to view the autumn leaves every year, and the place he chose to view them is in a valley whose geography would make it easy for the Suppontake to overwhelm him with poison using the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. With this information, Doi devises a plan. Why not fight fans with fans?

While Yuusaku is helping to sell their sightseer disguises, Komatsuda is carrying the "ultimate anti-Kasumiougi no Jutsu weapons," as Niino calls them. The brothers go with everyone to prepare for the counterattack.

The Suppontake begin their attack, though it turns out that Niino has replaced the poison in their fans with laughing gas and eye irritants. As the fumes begin to approach the valley, our heroes pull out the "ultimate weapons" that Komatsudaya made - gigantic fans that they use to blow the fumes back toward the Suppontake.

(Unfortunately, Yuusaku doesn't appear in this chapter's anime adaptations, episodes 16-23~24. He isn't even the one to make the "ultimate weapons" - Niino shows up with giant uchiwa instead. What a waste, to not have Komatsudaya's proprietor in a fan-centric series of episodes!)

The Suppontake's plans are thwarted and the day is saved! Everyone starts heading home.

(Doi is crying out "Ah!" because he just remembered that the autumn break is ending.)

Vol 47

Pages 126, 180

Yuusaku makes two short but sweet contributions to this volume, and appears in the anime adaptations (episodes 19-28 and 19-31).

Ninjutsu Academy's cultural festival is approaching. However, when it comes time to send out invitations, Komatsuda makes a mess of all of Ninjutsu Academy's documents and ends up sending invitations to both friends and foes. But one thing is very strange, the students muse - how did Komatsuda manage to get the invitations sent out so quickly if everything was such a mess?

Two of the festival attendees are the assassins Masukarasu and Dosukarasu. They appear at the festival crossdressing and with fans in hand. The students worry that the assassins could have put poison inside the fans to perform the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. Saburou, however, says there's no need to worry about that. That's because…

There's that entrepreneurial spirit!

Vol 65

Pages 11-15, 63-65, 67-70, 72, 82, 86, 89-90, 102, 107, 109, 119, 127, 148, 221-223, 235

(As of this writing, this volume has not been adapted for the anime.)

School is starting up again after the autumn break, and some of the 1-Ha students have met up on the road to school - where they find Yuusaku tagging along with Kirimaru and Doi. Rantarou asks what Yuusaku is doing there.

Everyone finally gets to school while carrying Shinbei, who gained too much weight on the break and had gotten too exhausted to walk anymore.

While Yuusaku waits in the staff room, the students find out what's been going on with Komatsuda. Komatsuda has become obsessed with getting people to sign in and out of the school, all day and all night, to the point where he won't even take a bath because he doesn't want to be in the tub when an intruder shows up. Even when the teachers volunteer to make the rounds, he refuses to rest and is running himself ragged.

Rantarou finally manages to get Komatsuda to go to the infirmary, where Niino gives him medicine to get him to sleep. The students and teachers will take care of any intruders that appear while Komatsuda is incapacitated.

The ninja looking to scout Komatsuda is Komochi Wakana, who first appeared in volume 15. He technically already met both Komatsuda brothers, as he was one of the job-seekers in volume 32, but neither Komochi nor Yuusaku remember each other. Fushikizou says they should head to the infirmary to see Komatsuda, but Yuusaku says that going there right now is a bad idea.

Shenanigans ensue as Sonnamon shows up to challenge Doi to a battle. Yuusaku gets to learn about ninja tools firsthand when Doi uses a urine-soaked cloth diaper to defeat Sonnamon. The main Tasogaredoki crew, who came to pick Sonnamon up, leave, but not without one last word.

Knowing that his target is elsewhere, Komochi dashes off to find Komatsuda and complete his mission. Shinbei saves the day by using his snot to catch Komochi by the leg.

Komatsuda shows up again, having overcome the medicine he was given. Even worse, a ninja from Hidahatake castle (who'd previously judged Komatsuda's Hidahatake castle employment exam in volume 38) shows up to scout Komatsuda as well.

Just when Komatsuda starts to go with the Hidahatake ninja, Rantarou pulls off Komochi's hood and reveals his lusciously lipsticked mouth. Komatsuda is so surprised by the sight that he snaps out of his trance. Crisis averted!

Yuusaku continues to learn about the world of ninja, as well as why it was good that he got a name in his first appearance.

There's some hubbub as other intruders are spotted, but Yuusaku and Komatsuda are busy getting ready to return to Komatsudaya.

"Hey," Shinbei says after the brothers leave, "doesn't something about what Komatsuda's brother just said bother you?" If a ninja hears about someone ordering a large number of fans, of course they'll be concerned about the Kasumiougi no Jutsu. Convinced that Komatsudaya's customer is a ninja squad, everyone heads over to the store.

As the students stand by with bated breath, somebody approaches the store - and promptly falls into a hole that Ayabe had dug in the street. When the mysterious person is pulled out, it's none other than Shinbei's father.

And so ends Yuusaku's appearances - as well as Rakudai Ninja Rantarou as a whole. How lucky, getting to be one of the characters to appear on the manga's last page!

I feel like I have more to personally say about Yuusaku that would make this longer than need be, so I'll probably eventually make another post. In the meantime, I hope everyone who read this enjoyed seeing more of the Komatsuda brothers.

[sometimesraven]

20 Questions for AO3 Writers

I was tagged in this FOREVER ago by @the-frankenman-writes I'm sorry it took me so long to get to!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

89

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

84,067 (my fics are usually pretty short haha)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Quantum Leap (TV 2022) (18)

Dragon Age (Video Games) (17)

Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) (11)

Original Work (10)

Dead by Daylight (Video Game) (10)

The Witcher (TV) (6)

The Sandman (TV 2022) (5)

Doctor Who (5)

Elder Scrolls Online (2)

Critical Role (Web Series) (1)

Torchwood (1)

F.E.A.R. (Video Games) (1)

Mass Effect Trilogy (1)

The Champions (TV 1968) (1)

Baldur's Gate (Video Games) (1)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Cold and Dark (Detroit: Become Human)

Holy, Holy, Holy (Original)

Her Sweet Kiss (The Witcher)

Just A Scratch (The Witcher)

Less Than Stellar Judgement (The Witcher)

(,,, people really like my Geraltskier whump fics huh XD)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I respond to basically every comment I get, even if all I can usually manage is some variation of "sfkgjhsfkgj thank you!!" because I have no idea how to take praise but I want the commenter to know they mean the world to me

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angiest ending?

Ooooooooof uhhhhh probably the little Detroit: Become Human ficlet I did called I Will Go Down. TW for suicide XD But there are a lot of angsty fics on there so who knows lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics end pretty bittersweet but I think Hope (Doctor Who) is one of my happiest endings <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, surprisingly! My fics don't usually have much reach tbf. The only time I got anything close to "hate" was an ableist saying my disabled Dragon Age Inquisition OC is unrealistic to the setting and would likely be "with their clan or dead".

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sometimes! Usually it's abstract (a la Holy, Holy, Holy) or porn with feelings (a la A Tale of Yearning) but I've been known to indulge in a lil PWP on occasion

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Just one! I have an ongoing Torchwood x Quantum Leap crossover 'verse thanks to @chaos-of-the-endless 😂 I also wrote a Baldur's Gate x Dead by Daylight AU recently!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't believe so (please tell me if you ever do!)

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no but some of my fics were inspired by other people or based on RP I've done in the past

14. What is your all time favorite ship?

Oh don't even XD uhhhhh right now it's Jenn&Ian from Quantum Leap and Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier from the Witcher but my shipping loves go so far back I could never name an all time favourite

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Family Reunion :( I've been trying to write it for,,,, basically as long as I've been writing but I can never finish it and then years pass and I hate it and think it's cringe and want to start it from scratch, rinse and repeat)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Taking an impulsive headcanon and running with it. I have so many ficlets just because I thought of a headcanon and NEEDED to put it to the page. I also enjoy angst and hurt/comfort, things that expand on already existing angst and make it WORSE :3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

In fic writing it's definitely description. I tend to get carried away in dialogue and forget to Say Other Stuff but I think I have a good handle on it now. That and smut, I enjoy writing it but I have to be either In The Mood or shut off my brain so I don't cringe so hard I delete it all bc I struggle with explicit content and get embarassed when things I'm writing are at all Kinky bc I have a crippling fear of judgement

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language for a fic?

As a reader I enjoy it! As a writer, just be careful, stick to one or two words rather than full dialogue if you don't have the time or energy to deep-google that shit

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who <3

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

this changes daily but at the moment I'm loving Something More and the rest of my Sandman fics revolving around the dream OC I made for it. I'm in love with them and I enjoy writing their dynamic with the Endless siblings too <3

Tagging: anyone who wants to do this <3

[kefalion]

My AO3 2023 Wrapped

The post with the questions is here

Follow me below the cut to see my answers

Not all questions are relevant to my AO3 year, so some will be skipped

Fic you clicked on the most times this year (shows in History)

I went throguh 40 pages of history, so I'm not only sharing my top 1 clicked. You're getting a top 4 because the gap between nr 4 and nr 5 was huge. All top 4 have one thing in common. They're massive multichapter stories (or collections) that I began reading pre 2023. They're also all Star Wars

Number 4: edge of providence by adiduck (book_people), whimsicalimages. Visited 86 times

Status: Complete Words: 328,498 Chapters: 38/38

Anakin and Obi-Wan discover Kaminoo a few years earlier. It changes the course of the Galaxy. The main relationships is Obi-Wan & Anakin as well as Obi-Wan/Jango.

My favourite things about this story is seeing Obi-Wan be an excellent mentor to Anakin, the Sith plot unravel, and that the romantic relationship happens slowly, which to me makes it plausible

Number 3: The protégé by @spell-cleaver Visited 89 times

Status: Complete Words: 224,549 Chapters: 39/39

Sets up an alternative universe where Padmé joins Anakin when he turns on the Order and the Republic, Palpatine dies soon after, and Padmé becomes Empress Amidala. Follows Luke's journy in finding his family and finding himself.

What I like best about this story is that it's sprawling. The world feels huge and lived in. Naboo culture is explored beautifully. The relationships in the Skywalker family is another strong point. It's messy and real, but the love is always apperant.

Number 2: all the echoes fade by @reedroad Visited 93 times

Status: In progress. Words: 453,728 Chapters: 43/?

What if while searching for answers post the fall of the Empire, Luke fell into a parallel dimension where he and his sisters were raised by their Father? What if all the major characters from the films and animated shows were given room to shine? That's what this story does.

I love how big this story is and how at the same times, there is room for intimacy in how the relationships are shown. For example, the way Vader and Padmé's relationship is shown awed me time and again.

Numer 1: Prompted | Obikin by @intermundia. Visited 103 times

Status: "Complete" Words: 127,374 Chapters: 24/24

This is a compilation of short stories. Various AUs. From Modern. To various movie AUs. To Sith!Obi-Wan. All of them about Obi-Wan/Anakin. Maybe it's complete. Maybe more will be added.

To say why I like this is a bit tricker than the others. There are so many different things to be had here. All of it captures the essence of the relationship it is about, however, and to do it in so many packages is amazing.

2. First fic you clicked on this year

According to the History, I started the year with more of @spell-cleaver Fixing Your (Relation)Ship Since 5 AFE by SpellCleaver

3. First fic you Bookmarked this year

The Face of Antiquity by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles) for Cam_Watson

I have it marked as TBR. I've apparently not read it all year. Maybe this is how I should start my 2024

4. First fic you posted this year

A Roll of Destiny 

Status: Complete Words: 21,803  Chapters: 19/19

This is an RPG sheet story. I rolled out prompts and built a story about Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. Set after the Kenobi series. It was a very different writing expereince. Not knowing what was going to happen next made it more akin to reading. I could only plan out short chapters at a time.

5. Your most read Fandom this year

Star Wars. Hands down. I barely read anything else.

6. Your most written for Fandom this year

Same. Hard same. Star Wars.

7. Your most read pairing this year

Obi-Wan/Anakin

8. Your most written for pairing this year

Obi-Wan/Anakin

9. Most popular fic by hits you read this year

Oh dear. I need to go through all 40 pages again. Let me quickly see how many more questions are about my reading History. Oh. Read. I just checked if it was in my history. I'm not going through all those pages again. Most hits in my history of 2023 goes to

Bring Him to His Knees by Musyc Hits: 1,726,530

Going by the fics that were grouped with it, I was checking what was popular. I have not read this.

10. Most popular fic by hits you posted this year

Visualising Our Fantasies [Explicit Obikin Art] by Kefalion, SageGarnish Hits: 43,352 This is a landslide victory. My post with the second most hits has just over 2000. I guess people are starved for explicit art.

11. Most popular fic by kudos you posted this year

Same. But by a smaller margin. 1st place 410. 2nd place 200

12. Most popular fic by comment threads you posted this year

Same again. 29 for Visualising Our Fantasies [Explicit Obikin Art] and 10 for the second highest number of comment threads

13. Your personal favorite fic you read this year

Difficult. I've read a lot of good fic. One series that stands out to me is

Star Wars: Aberration by SiegeGunn

The main character is Cal Kesits, and it explores how things could go of it was converted to the dark side and became an Inquisitor.

By being a series, it explores widely varying povs and characters, though the larger stories in the series focus on Cal. Really cool.

14. Your personal favorite fic you posted this year

Another very difficult question. Let's go with this

Complete Your Training by Kefalion

While watching the Ahsoka Series, and before it too, I had theories. And right before the way they decided to take the story was revealed, I wrote this in a frenzy. It came together over a long time and was written down in hours. Really cool experience. And I think the story turned out great too. It's also the first time I've posted a podfic

15. Most recent fic you clicked on

Aside from the ones I've clicked on to answer these questions, it's

Obi-Wan Kenobi Is Too Polite to Tell You About His Huge Penis by kingdomvel The title alone is art

16. Most recent fic you Bookmarked

Forget Me Not by AFishNamedSushi

Summary: 5 years into Obi-Wan’s exile on Tatooine, a man calling himself Anakin Skywalker comes to call upon the old Lars homestead. This man certainly looks like Obi-Wan’s old Padawan, but he has no memory of the Clone Wars, his life with the Jedi, or Obi-Wan.

Status: Complete Words: 48,050  Chapters: 12/12

17. Most recent fic you posted

I added a chapter to the explicit art collection. Prior to that it's Complete your training from question 14

18. Highest word count fic you read this year

skip

19. Highest word count fic you posted this year

A Roll of Destiny  That's the RPG fic I mentioned in question 4. A bit over 20k words.

20. Your total word count posted this year (shows in Statistics)

34,662

21. Your total hits this year (shows in Statistics)

51,654

22. Your total kudos this year (shows in Statistics)

915

23. Your total comment threads this year (shows in Statistics)

54

24. Least popular fic by hits you read this year

thy fearful symmetry @ossidae-passeridae Only 144 hits atm! Go give it some love! But mind the tags! Dae doesn't write for the faint of heart. It's star wars. It's a reaction to the Mandalorian season 3. It's just over 2k words. And it's clever and unsettling.

25. Least popular fic by hits you posted this year

Complete Your Training makes another apperance. Hits: 1,074

26. Least popular fic by kudos you posted this year

Complete Your Training again. Kudos: 71

27. Least popular fic by comment threads you posted this year

Not a tripple whammy for Complete your training. Story with the least comment threads goes to Take Care of Yourself, I Wish I Could 

It's the first story I've written with explicit sexual content, and it's more of that than plot. I see why people hold off commenting. But that trend was more obvious than I expected at the time of posting.

Status: complete Words: 7,095  Chapters: 1/1 Star Wars - Obi-Wan/Anakin

28. Number of fics you clicked on this year (20 per page)

I've gone on and on about my fourty pages. 39x20 + 11 makes it 791 fics I've clicked from January to the start of December

29. Number of Bookmarks you made this year (20 per page)

222 - What a nice number!

30 - 45 skip

It's mainly about popular fandoms and ships. I've already answered that. It's Star Wars and Obi-Wan/Anakin

46. A playlist of all the songs you used lyrics from to title fics this year

I've not used any songs for titles. I have so many WIPs of this variety though. Next year maybe!

47. Shout out an incomplete fic you read this year

See you around, Jedi by PaperCraneCastles

Let's go with this. It's Cal Kestis/Boba Fett.

This is what I wrote when I bookmarked it: delightful. The characterisations are so fun. Boba is more than hot. He wears his competency well.

Words: 7,602 Chapters: 3/4

48. Oldest fic you read this year

Every so often I visit my old fandoms. This is from such a time. Updated Okt 2012 we have a Mass Effect fic THE STEPS AND THE SHORE by spicyshimmy

But holy wow did I almost only read fics from 2023 and 2022. Seeing 201x was frighteningly rare. I think it's because I've read so much Star Wars fic over three years. Only new things are new to me.

49. Your most posted Additional Tag this year

eh... There's no most. Got a lot of 2s

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (2)

POV Third Person Limited (2)

Scenting (2)

Animated GIFs (2)

POV Anakin Skywalker (2)

50. Your favorite comment you left or received this year

How do I pick one???

This one was fun.

I’m crying? WHY AM I CRYING???

To get people to experience emotions is always the goal

[plothooksinc]

👋 fanfic writer ask game: 3, 4, 15?

Yosh o/

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

A couple, but they're both ROTTMNT because everything else is already in the process of being written. One being relatively short and like a palate cleanser for NRFTW I guess (and because Hueso's entire presence in that fic was trying to get Leo to pick up his phone because there are humans in his restaurant whyyy):

Hueso takes his trash out at the end of the night and finds Leo sprawled in his dumpster for unknown reasons, but he's slightly bruised and exceedingly high and this is a very large test of Hueso's patience (and he doesn't feel any concern, of course he doesn't)

Okay, so upgrading Bishop from annoying third-wheel thorn in everyone's side to the outright antagonist as the man tries to adjust his world view after the events of NRFTW and makes a few calls, some of them surprisingly decent but several of them Not Decent At All, on the background of the turtles dealing with weird spots of corruption in mechanical objects found across the city (think Rise comedy crossed with creepy horrorville as a vending machine tries to pack itself with victims off the street, or an ATM literally having an existential crisis, and then there's all those Albearto bears)-- luckily Donnie seems to know where to find all this weird corruption and it reacts to him in a variety of ways from positive to outright yandere. His brothers would really like to know how and why and if he's doing okay? Please? Yes, this is a direct follow on from NRFTW, though several months down the track so Leo can get out of bed already. (The poor guy.)

I did have a third idea but literally 24 hours after I thought of it I saw the plot go past in a summary on AO3 so I went WELP /tosses it out the window, lmao

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

Much of a muchness! Like 1. above is a one shot and 2. most definitely isn't, I'm happy to write either depending on the story I try to write. I've written more one shots than multi-lengths, I think, but sometimes you can tell stories in the space of a few pages. (And sometimes you think you can and you're crying 89 pages later going why.)

15. Are there words, phrases, mannerisms or scenes you tend to use a lot?

Oh gosh, yes. People blink and breathe a lot in my fics, lmao. I MEAN WE ALL DO but I use them as shorthand for //processing// a lot, or breathing to steel yourself for what you're about to do next, etc etc. As said much earlier, I have a habit of saying such things like "He slept" but I've been good about this lately! (She says knowing full well she uses it in the chapter she's currently writing, shh.)

I tend to quirk a lot of small grins, have lopsided grins, and You Would Not Believe How Many Characters Are Capable Of Raising A Solitary Eyebrow (Or Eye Ridge As The Case May Be) and I have a fondness for writing scenes where characters wake up after several days out but that's just the comfort side of my hurt/comfort head space. Also I apparently kidnap people a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO LIKE MANY I SUFFER FROM SAID-BOOKISM (i.e. way too many adverbs, I literally comb through afterward and try to remove some they're just everywhere like my italics) so. I definitely have my tells as an author, but hopefully nobody grinds their teeth over them, lmao.

Thank you!

Fanfic Writer Ask Game Here

[morfinwen]

1, 13, 19, 40, 64, 65, 89, and 99 for the fanfic writers ask, please?

This dates back to uh January. But i just finished it!

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

I think it’s the middles that usually throw me, so it’s like i’ve got a destination, but it leads through figurative wilderness through which i can only hope to find a road, or at least a reasonably hikeable deer path.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

This story basically died at chapter 5. I had no idea how to handle the current section or where it would go after that, so it just sat there. For months -- years, i think -- i made no progress on it. Then out of nowhere, i knew how to proceed. And i finished it without any further struggles. To this day, i have no idea why, but i’m very happy about it.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

If it seems like i’ve been particularly influenced by someone, let me know! Because i certainly don’t have a clue.

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I’ve probably talked about the actual best feedback i’ve ever gotten already, but recently a blog i like reblogged one of my fics and tagged it “oooh i like this”, which was encouraging.

64. what is your favorite title for a fic you’ve read? 

I don’t really notice names, and i don’t have the patience to comb through all 20 pages of bookmarked fic on AO3 to find The Best Ones, so i’m going with one of the first ones i found. That said, Nothing Says “Feel Better Soon” Like Grand Larceny is a good title.

65. what is your favorite title for a fic you’ve written? 

Names are hard and most of them are not superb, but my most recent posted work, “of fire lilies and boys with golden eyes” is perhaps my favorite. That, or “Mirror Zombies”.

89. sarcastic narrators: entertaining or overdone?

I don’t think they’re overdone, it’s just a matter of doing it well. 

99. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? 

My first memories of using a computer are using it to write stories, and at one point i found an old notebook in which my mom had written down stories i had come up with but wasn’t able to write for myself. So yeah, it’s a very old hobby of mine.

Thanks for asking!

[hwadam-stories]

MASTER OF THE SUN | 태양의주인 | PART 5 (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

||| VOLUME 1: CHAPTER 5

||| TYPE: Light Novel (MTL)

||| TOOL: ChatGPT

||| CONTENT: contains dark and triggering themes (dead dove content), viewer discretion advised.

Chapter 5: The Approaching Storm

(page 89)

Snowflakes began to drift down, one by one. The sky was thick with ominous dark clouds, hinting at something significant. It seemed highly likely that a massive blizzard would descend soon.

Bayan's home was situated high on the mountain. It was quite a distance from the village nestled on the mountainside, which was ideal for avoiding people's malice, but also a perfect location for isolation. Especially here, once the snow started falling, it often piled up so high that it became impossible to walk, and they had been trapped indoors more times than Bayan could count. Because of this, whenever there was a hint of snow, they had to collect their rations in advance.

Of course, they wouldn't be given easily.

It was always the same. Despite there being a designated amount for Langbi, they never made it easy to get. If Langbi hadn't bluffed about laying curses, they probably wouldn't have gotten anything at all. It was only possible because people feared Langbi, who still possessed some of her spiritual powers. But after using that trick a few times, its effectiveness seemed to be wearing off; lately, it hadn't been as potent.

"Hmph... What kind of threat should I use this time...?" Bayan sighed, looking up at the sky. What choice did she have? If all else failed, she'd have to threaten to tell the Elder. She absolutely loathed asking for his help, but there was no other good option. If it were just herself, it wouldn't matter, but thinking of Langbi, this wasn't the time for pride. Langbi's cough always worsened in winter, so she absolutely had to eat well. Her body was already weak, and if she didn't eat properly, she'd be plagued by coughs all winter long.

The snowfall was getting heavier. Any more delay and the return trip would be difficult.

Bayan adjusted her backpack and headed down to the village.

(page 90)

Perhaps because of the snow, the entire village was eerily quiet. Usually, as soon as she entered the village, people would treat her like a plague victim, yelling insults or throwing stones. But today, no one bothered her. A few people who had been talking with serious expressions glanced at Bayan, then pretended not to notice her, turning their heads away.

Habit was a powerful thing. After being mistreated every time, the absence of any trouble made her even more uneasy. The village atmosphere also felt strangely subdued, and everyone's expressions were rigid, strained. Is something going on? Bayan wondered, tilting her head, before continuing toward the ration station.

"...Damn it."

When Bayan arrived at the ration station, her brow furrowed in frustration. Of all people, the person in charge of rations was Yul's father... She truly had terrible luck.

The villagers took turns managing the ration station. Everyone tried their best not to give Bayan rations, but Yul's father was the absolute worst. He would openly declare that there was no grain for "the likes of her," and spraying water was common. He would even mix dirt or refuse into the grain, or sometimes poisonous herbs.

(page 91)

It wasn't even a lot of food; it was just three handfuls of grain every five days. That was barely enough for one person for a day. Did they really begrudge even that meager amount? He never gave it to them kindly.

Bayan had intended to get enough for about half a month, not knowing how much snow would fall, but it seemed impossible now. Should she come back tomorrow? But what if it snowed all night and piled up too much? That would be disastrous.

She stood lingering in front of the ration station, unable to bring herself to enter, when Yul's father spotted her and frowned. He looked at Bayan, who was anxiously shifting her weight from foot to foot, like she was an insect, then clicked his tongue in disgust. Under his contemptuous gaze, Bayan felt a wave of shame, even though she had done nothing wrong.

Bayan lowered her head. Even though she experienced this every time, her chest still felt heavy with a dull ache.

When she was a child, there were a few people who treated her kindly, and Yul's father had been one of them. Secretly, away from the other villagers, Yul's father would come and give her food, saying, "What fault could a child have?" She had even wished, in her innocence, that he was her father... That's why his coldness now hurt her the most.

To be unable to manifest healing power among the Siyo tribe meant being an unforgivable sinner.

What should I do...? Bayan chewed on the inside of her lip, then lifted her head, her resolve hardening. No matter what, I have to get these rations, and I knew it wouldn't be easy, no matter who was in charge. This isn't the first time, so don't be weak.

"Excuse me, about the ra—"

Before Bayan could even finish her sentence, Yul's father tossed a brown sack at her. It was always palm-sized, but this time, for some reason, it was quite large. Bayan merely stared at the sack in confusion, and Yul's father clicked his tongue again, a sound of impatience.

An Unexpected Boon

(page 92)

"What are you standing there dumbfounded for? Take it. I put a chunk of meat in there along with half a month's worth of grain." Yul's father's voice, usually a cutting lash, was gruff but lacked its usual malice.

"...Huh?" Bayan blinked, utterly bewildered, her mind struggling to process the words. This was unprecedented.

"Take good care of the shamaness. I hear she's become very weak," he continued, his gaze pointedly shifting from Bayan to the distance, as if discussing someone else entirely.

"...Huh?" Bayan was still trying to process the sudden change, the words barely registering through her shock. Why was he being… kind?

"Now go," Yul's father said, his voice firm, a hint of impatience creeping back in.

"...Huh?" Bayan could only stammer, her mind still reeling.

"Ah, just get out of here already!" he snapped, a flicker of his old annoyance returning to his tone, as if even this small act of charity was a burden.

Fearing he might truly change his mind, Bayan frantically snatched up the bag, her hands trembling. She clutched the sack tightly to her chest, as if someone might snatch it away, and bowed deeply, repeatedly, her forehead almost touching the ground.

"...Uh, uh... thank you, uncle. Thank you so much!" she stammered, overwhelmed with gratitude, the words tumbling out. She couldn't believe her luck.

Yul's father, clearly not wanting to hear any more thanks or witness her confusion, turned his head sharply away with an exasperated look, dismissing her.

Bayan, still bowing, then clumsily shoved the sack into her backpack. The heavy weight on her shoulder felt wonderfully substantial, a comforting promise of sustenance, and her spirits soared, a lightness she hadn't felt in days.

(page 93)

It wasn't a small amount at all, and he wouldn't have bothered to add anything harmful if he was giving them this much. This wasn't his usual cruel trick. She had no idea what kind of inexplicable change of heart this was, what prompted this sudden, immense generosity from such a cruel man, but at this moment, she was simply, profoundly overjoyed. Her chest swelled with such relief and happiness at the thought of being able to feed her mom until she was full, at least for a while, perhaps even see some color return to her mother's pale cheeks. Her heart thumped with a joy so strong it felt like it might burst.

What incredible luck is this? A veritable windfall! It can't be a dream, can it? Not again. She pinched herself, just to be sure.

She wanted to laugh out loud, a joyous, uninhibited peal of laughter, but doing so might attract unwanted attention, break this fragile spell of good fortune. Bayan quickly smoothed her expression, forcing her face into a neutral mask, and hurried away from the village. Only when she was finally clear of the last hut, rounding the bend in the path and leaving the judging eyes behind, did a genuine, unrestrained smile finally grace her face. Bayan hummed a familiar, forbidden tune to herself, a song of the Siyo tribe, as she walked up the winding mountain path.

"Cover the sun, cover the sun. Let's put the sun into the red river. Red silk swallows blue silk, red dog swallows red dog." Her voice, though joyful, was unpolished.

"Bayan." A voice, sharp and annoyed, cut through her song.

"Cover the sun, cover the sun. Let's soothe the angry, surging sun. A vow will not change until a life continues." Bayan, lost in her melody, simply sang louder, ignoring the interruption.

"Can't you hear me?!" The voice was closer now, laced with irritation.

"Cover the sun, cover the sun. Let the poor sun sleep." Bayan continued, oblivious, her focus entirely on the rhythm and words.

"Hey! You! Are you ignoring me right now?!" The voice was practically a shout, right behind her.

Bayan was startled by the sudden, irritated voice and spun around, her heart jumping into her throat. Galmi stood there, her face flushed a vibrant red, panting heavily, clearly having run to catch up. Bayan had been so lost in her song, in her sudden happiness, that she hadn't noticed anyone following her, let alone Galmi. Bayan cleared her throat nonchalantly, trying to feign composure.

(page 94)

"Ahem, ahem... I didn't hear you. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Don't you ever sing anywhere," Galmi snapped, her eyes narrowing. "I thought a pig was being slaughtered, honestly."

...Mom said the same thing... Bayan's thoughts trailed off, a mortifying realization dawning on her. So, it was true? My singing really is that bad? I thought she was just teasing me, trying to get a rise out of me. Bayan's dusky cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment, a faint blush visible despite her darker complexion.

"Is that why you called me?" Bayan asked, trying to sound indifferent, but a hint of wounded pride crept into her voice. "To insult my singing?"

"Am I crazy?" Galmi scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "To come all this way just to say something like that. Of course not."

"Then what do you want?" Bayan pressed, her patience wearing thin.

"..." Galmi remained silent, her gaze fixed on Bayan, a strange, hesitant flicker in her eyes.

Bayan's eyes flickered down to Galmi's hands. She wasn't wearing her usual thick, leather gloves, the ones she always wore when she intended to deliver a beating. So, it didn't seem like she had followed her to hit her... Something felt distinctly off about this encounter. Galmi's expression was as haughty and disdainful as ever, but Bayan sensed a slight, uncharacteristic hesitation beneath it, a fleeting uncertainty. Bayan watched Galmi's face for a moment longer, then, deciding she had no time for games, turned to leave.

"If you have nothing to say, I'm leaving," Bayan said, taking a step up the path.

As soon as she turned her back, Galmi suddenly shrieked, her voice high-pitched and urgent, a stark contrast to her usual calm mockery.

An Ominous Gift

(page 95)

"Hey! I didn't give you permission! Why are you just leaving as you please?" Galmi shrieked, her voice shrill with indignation, making Bayan wince.

Permission, my ass, Bayan thought, rolling her eyes. What does she think I am? A servant? A slave? Whatever was wrong with Galmi's head, she was definitely as annoying as Saran. It was just easier to avoid her entirely. Bayan yelled back at Galmi, her own patience worn thin.

"Then spit it out already!"

"...This..." Galmi's sharp tone softened, and she pulled a small, soft pouch from inside her clothes, holding it out. Bayan stared blankly at the fist-sized pouch, utterly confused by this sudden shift.

"...What is it?" Bayan asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

"Meat."

"So?" Bayan's brow furrowed. She wasn't about to accept anything from Galmi without an explanation.

"...'So,' what?" Galmi's brow furrowed in genuine confusion, as if Bayan's reaction was completely unexpected.

"Why are you giving this to me? Did you poison it, by any chance?" Bayan asked, a suspicious glint in her eye. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to harm her.

"N-no!" Galmi's face flushed a furious red, and she burst out in anger, dropping the pretense of calm.

(page 96)

Bayan let out a sardonic laugh, watching Galmi's face redden with anger and frustration. "Of course not. Don't you know poison won't work on me? You just wasted perfectly good meat, didn't you? Tsk." Bayan clicked her tongue in feigned disappointment, enjoying Galmi's discomfort.

"I'm telling you it's not!" Galmi fumed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, in a fit of pique, she angrily threw the pouch she was holding onto the ground. Still not appeased, she stomped on it repeatedly with her foot, grinding the precious meat into the dirt. Bayan watched, horrified, as the good food was ruined. After venting her fury on the innocent meat, Galmi glared venomously at Bayan. Her eyes were gleaming with a disturbing intensity, and she seemed to be losing her mind, a vein throbbing in her temple.

"I was crazy to have felt even a moment's gratitude towards a filthy mutant like you!" Galmi spat, her voice dripping with pure contempt.

Oh, you just figured that out? That you're crazy? Bayan thought dryly, a sense of detached amusement warring with her irritation.

Look at her stomping on that precious food. Disgusting. She really is the craziest woman in the village, as expected.

Bayan shook her head slowly and stepped back, retreating a few paces. She didn't want to risk getting bitten if she stayed too close. She had no idea why Galmi had suddenly appeared and was throwing such a tantrum. Had she eaten rat poison or something? Or was she simply losing her mind faster than usual?

Suddenly, without warning, Galmi's venomous expression transformed into something eerily bright and pleasant, a chilling, almost predatory smile. She lifted the corner of her mouth into a sly, confident smirk, her eyes glinting with a dangerous calculation.

"Saran is dead."

"...What?" Bayan's voice was barely a whisper, the abruptness of the statement and the coldness with which it was delivered sending a jolt through her.

(page 97)

"Saran is dead," Galmi repeated, a perverse satisfaction in her tone, as if she were delivering the best news imaginable. Her smile widened, showing a flash of teeth.

"...Why?" Bayan pressed, her mind struggling to comprehend. Saran, dead? It felt impossible.

"Emperor Taemu killed her. Her body came back, cut into five pieces, they say. They brought her remains back to the village, and Saran's mother collapsed on the spot when she saw the corpse, screaming." Galmi's voice was chillingly devoid of sympathy, almost relishing the gruesome details.

"..." Bayan could only stare, speechless. The image was horrifying.

"And it wasn't just her. All the other concubines and the maids who followed them were slaughtered too. Saran, because she was a concubine, at least had her body returned for a proper burial, but they only sent word that the maids who followed them were dead. No bodies, no last rites, just a cold decree." Galmi's voice was a low, chilling monotone, recounting the horrors as if discussing the weather.

"...Why are you telling me this?" Bayan asked, a cold dread creeping up her spine. This wasn't information Galmi would normally share, especially not with such macabre glee.

"Because of what you said—'what if the Emperor likes the maid more?'—that made Saran abandon me and Yul and leave," Galmi said, her eyes fixed on Bayan, a strange intensity in her gaze. "I thought you were just a useless mutant, good for nothing, but thanks to your words, I saved my life, didn't I? She ran off, and I stayed." Galmi's smile widened, but it was not one of genuine happiness or gratitude; it was a calculating, almost triumphant grin.

"...That's fortunate," Bayan replied flatly, her gaze wary, a profound sense of unease settling over her. This wasn't a friendly conversation; it was a prelude.

"As you know, I'm not the kind of person who can live with a debt hanging over me. And you seemed to need food the most, but you refused it just now... Hmm, so how should I repay this debt?" Galmi tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully, but her eyes held a predatory glint.

Despite her words about debt and repayment, Galmi's expression was far from normal, far from sincere. What dark intention was hidden behind that cunning, almost malicious smile? Bayan felt an immediate, prickling sense of foreboding. As Bayan remained silent, offering no reply, her instincts screaming at her to be cautious, Galmi continued, her voice dropping, as if granting a great favor, or sharing a secret.

"A few days ago, when you were sick, you know, really out of it? The elders from three villages gathered for a grand meeting about something. And that's when Yul's father, that old fool, started foaming at the mouth and raising hell, demanding something..."

Galmi's behavior is unsettlingly volatile, swinging between furious insults and unnerving pleasantries. The news of Saran's death, and Galmi's reaction to it, hints at a deeper, more manipulative side to her personality. And now, she's revealing something about a secret meeting and Yul's father's rage.

What was the nature of this "grand meeting" that so agitated Yul's father, and how might it connect to Bayan, her mother, or Jahan?

A Sinister Proposition

(page 98)

"Why?" Bayan pressed, her frustration mounting, a chilling premonition settling over her.

"Because the Empire issued a stern order to send another concubine, and the next maiden chosen was Yul," Galmi explained, a strange mix of triumph and cynicism in her voice, as if she were relaying a darkly amusing anecdote. "He flew into a rage, absolutely furious, and declared he'd leave the village with Yul, defy the Empire."

"...But he's still here...?" Bayan interjected, confused. She'd seen Yul's father at the ration station just minutes ago.

"Of course he is! You might not know this, but Yul's father's healing power is on par with the Elder's. He's a valuable asset that they absolutely cannot lose, too critical to let just walk away," Galmi stated, a hint of grudging respect in her tone, which Bayan found unsettling. "Anyway, Yul was able to survive thanks to having capable parents. Their value secured her safety."

I remember his healing power wasn't that high before... Bayan thought, a faint, discordant memory from her childhood tugging at her. Yul's father used to be subtly ignored by the villagers because he couldn't even properly heal a simple scratch, a source of quiet derision. Bayan sighed, reflecting on the past. It was so long ago; maybe I'm just remembering wrong, or perhaps his powers grew.

"So, did another village agree to send someone instead?" Bayan asked, trying to grasp the terrifying implications, a cold dread twisting in her stomach.

"Other villages are all in similar situations. What parent would want to send their child to such a deadly place?" Galmi scoffed, a genuine flash of shared human emotion. "A huge commotion broke out in every single village. It got so bad the village was on the verge of splitting apart, with families threatening to abandon the community, so the elders had no choice but to find another method, another solution."

The snowfall was getting heavier, thick flakes swirling around them, obscuring the distant peaks. Bayan roughly brushed the accumulating snow from her hair, a futile attempt to clear her mind. She felt a pang of guilt, but honestly, Saran's gruesome death evoked no emotion in her beyond a brief, shocking surprise. That was all. It had nothing to do with her, she told herself, so she didn't understand why she had to stand here listening to Galmi's chilling, drawn-out monologue.

(page 99)

"Listen, can you just get to the point?" Bayan crossed her arms, her patience wearing thin, the cold beginning to seep into her bones. "I need to go make dinner quickly. My mom's waiting."

"Unfortunately, there's no conclusion yet," Galmi said, a sly smile playing on her lips, her eyes twinkling with a predatory gleam. "But wouldn't they send someone who's no longer needed? Someone… expendable?"

"Who would that be?" Bayan asked, a sudden, heavy knot forming in her stomach, a dreadful suspicion rising.

"How should I know that? I'm not the Elder," Galmi replied, shrugging her shoulders with infuriating nonchalance, as if discussing the weather.

Is she playing games with me? Annoyance contorted Bayan's face, her unease growing into genuine alarm. Galmi watched her expression keenly, savoring Bayan's discomfort, then smiled meaningfully, a hint of something truly sinister in her eyes.

"Oh, right," Galmi began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a chilling casualness in her tone. "You're not doing the Blood Extraction anymore, are you?"

"...What did you say?" Bayan's breath hitched, a gasp trapped in her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock, her body suddenly rigid.

"To think you can only live by having a full basin of blood drawn every month—you're not a monster, are you? Honestly, every time I saw you, it was so disgusting, it was torture to be near you." Galmi's voice was casual, conversational, yet utterly cruel, delivered with a detached fascination that made Bayan's skin crawl.

"..." Bayan could only stare, paralyzed by the sudden, brutal revelation. How could she know? Who would tell her?

"Why are you so surprised?" Galmi tilted her head, her smile unwavering, a taunting glint in her eyes. "Did you think no one knew? Did you think it was some big secret?"

"...N-no one..." Bayan stammered, her voice barely a whisper, her mind scrambling for an explanation, for denial.

"Oh, everyone who mattered knew about it, darling. It's not exactly a well-kept secret around here." Galmi's voice dripped with mocking sweetness.

(page 100)

Galmi chuckled, a cold, humorless sound, shaking her shoulders with amusement at Bayan's pale, frozen face. Her laughter was devoid of warmth, like the biting wind. Then, with a sudden, predatory quickness, she stepped closer, leaning in until her lips were almost touching Bayan's ear, and whispered conspiratorially, her voice a chilling caress.

"Not just knew about it, darling? They even shared and drank it."

Bayan wasn't sure how she'd even walked home. The world around her had blurred, the familiar path a dizzying maze, her mind reeling with Galmi's monstrous revelation. She must have been walking in a daze, her thoughts a chaotic storm, until she found herself, by sheer instinct, at her own doorstep.

Bayan stumbled into the small hut and dropped her backpack in the kitchen with a dull thud, the weight of the sack suddenly feeling insignificant compared to the crushing weight on her soul.

"You're back?" Langbi's voice was soft, calm, a soothing balm that Bayan barely registered.

"...Yeah," Bayan mumbled, her voice flat, emotionless.

"What took you so long, child?" Langbi asked, a hint of concern in her tone, her eyes still closed, turning her prayer beads.

"...Did you tell them?" Bayan finally asked, her voice barely audible, but raw with a desperate, breaking need for confirmation, for the truth, no matter how agonizing.

"Tell them what, child?" Langbi asked, still sitting with her eyes closed, her expression serene. But then, with uncanny accuracy, her head turned, and her eyes, still closed, seemed to look directly at where Bayan was standing, piercing her very soul. Bayan simply stared at her mother for a long, agonizing moment, the silence amplifying the unspoken question, before slowly, mechanically, she opened her backpack, preparing to reveal what she had brought back from the village, and perhaps, the truth of what she had heard.

Galmi's final, devastating revelation about the villagers "sharing and drinking" Bayan's blood adds a horrific layer to Bayan's existence and the Siyo tribe's practices. This completely recontextualizes the villagers' treatment of her and the shamaness, suggesting a far darker reason for their ostracization and the "healing power" itself.

What might this shocking truth mean for Bayan's relationship with her mother, and how will it impact her perception of her own identity and future within the tribe?

A Bitter Taste

(page 101)

"No... This time, they gave me rations without a word. I thought maybe Mom had said something beforehand, smoothed things over." Bayan’s voice was hollow, the joy of the rations overshadowed by Galmi's revelation.

"Are you saying I, with my eyes like this, went down to the village on a day like today?" Langbi's voice held a rare hint of sharpness, almost incredulity. "Are you sick, child?"

Bayan fell silent, a whirlwind of agonizing questions consuming her. Then how do they know I do blood extractions? They all know, Galmi said? Why did you tell them? Why? Did you want them to think I'm a monster? And… what did they do with my blood? The unspoken accusations choked her. The questions swirled in Bayan's mind, growing endlessly, but she bowed her head in silence, unable to voice her suspicions. She peered into her backpack, carefully taking out a little of the well-sealed grain and a small piece of meat, her movements mechanical.

As she cooked the rice and boiled the meat stew, a mouth-watering aroma quickly filled the air, a familiar comfort. Making food was usually what she loved most in the world, a simple pleasure, but today, the scent only intensified the turmoil within her. She couldn't even manage a smile. An unbearable nausea churned in her stomach, the taste of betrayal bitter on her tongue. Bayan almost threw the low dining table onto the floor in the room, her hands shaking, then scrambled outside, needing air, needing to escape.

"Ugh, cough! Cough, cough!" she retched, bending over, her body convulsing. Since she hadn't eaten anything, only bitter, acidic water came up, burning her throat. Bayan dry-heaved several times, her chest heaving, then pounded her chest, trying to dislodge the agony. Her throat burned, but slowly, the discomfort eased, replaced by a dull ache. She roughly wiped away the tears streaming from her eyes with her sleeve and scooped a handful of fresh snow into her mouth. The parched, stale taste in her mouth became a little clearer, a fleeting moment of clarity.

"Phew..." she sighed, the sound heavy with despair.

(page 102)

Bayan stared blankly at the darkening, swirling sky, letting out a long sigh that mingled with the wind, then suddenly stood up, a new urgency seizing her. She sprinted to the backyard, her feet crunching in the fresh snow.

"What...? Where did it go?!" she cried, her voice raw with dawning horror.

The sacred rope, the twisted strands of straw and protective charms that always marked a corner of the yard, where her jar was buried, was gone. A lot of snow had fallen, muffling the world in white, but not enough to cover the rope completely. It should have been visible.

Did Mom clean it up? A flicker of hope, swiftly extinguished. Bayan frantically dug at the hardened, frozen ground with her bare fingers, scraping against the icy earth. She dug deeper than usual, tearing at the soil, but the jar wasn't there. Is this not the right spot? Maybe the snow piling up confused me, and I misjudged the location. She looked around, disoriented, her eyes wide with a growing panic, then shifted a little to the side and began digging again, desperately.

After a long, agonizing time, her fingers aching and numb, Bayan finally understood. She hadn't misjudged the location; the jar was simply gone. Her mother, who couldn't see, couldn't possibly have removed the sacred rope and dug up the buried jar herself. It was impossible. Clearly, someone from the village had done this. Someone had known.

Then, what about the blood that was inside? The question echoed, chilling her to the bone.

"No way...?" The whisper was choked, barely audible.

No! Bayan shook her head violently, as if to physically dislodge the terrible thought, to push away the horrific implication. Mom just told them about the blood extraction. It's their fault for taking it and using it, not Mom's fault. She didn't know what they'd do. She tried to rationalize, to cling to any thread of innocence for her mother.

(page 103)

But what was this feeling welling up from deep within her heart, bubbling up like poison?

This gloomy emotion, akin to betrayal or despair, refused to subside no matter how much she tried to calm herself, to reason it away. Instead, it swelled, growing larger and larger, a suffocating weight. Bayan stared down at the empty, disturbed pit, its darkness reflecting the hollowness she felt, biting her lip hard until she tasted blood. Then, with a cry of anguish and fury, she dashed back into the house.

"Mom! Where's the jar?!" she shrieked, her voice hoarse, ragged.

"I thought you'd thrown the dining table and run off to... what, freeze outside?" Langbi asked, her voice calm, a slight note of curiosity, but her eyes remained closed, her expression unreadable. "What jar are you talking about, child?"

"How many jars do we have in this house?" Bayan demanded, her voice rising, laced with desperation and an edge of hysteria. "I'm talking about the blood jar buried in the backyard! It's gone!"

"Why are you asking me about that?" Langbi responded, her voice unusually flat, almost detached.

"Because it's gone and I didn't move it! It just disappeared! Who was it? Who took the jar?!" Bayan screamed, her anger finally erupting.

Langbi, who had been leaning against the wall, slowly lifted the corner of her mouth into a strange smile. It looked bitter, filled with resignation, yet it also seemed to mock, to hold a hidden knowledge.

"It's said that excessive greed brings misfortune, but why don't you know that, Bayan?" Langbi's voice was soft, almost a murmur, but it carried a chilling weight.

"Mom, don't change the subject!" Bayan demanded, her voice bordering on a shout, ignoring the cryptic words. "What did you do with my jar?! Tell me!"

"You saw it yourself, so why ask?" Langbi's voice was eerily calm now, a stark contrast to Bayan's rising panic. "Someone took it, obviously."

"So who?!" Bayan shrieked, desperate for a name, a target for her rage and anguish.

"Who else but one of those mongrels from the village," Langbi replied, her smile fading, leaving only a grim, knowing line. The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and a profound, shared burden.

Bayan's discovery of the missing blood jar and her mother's evasive, yet knowing, responses confirm her deepest fears. The villagers' contempt, Galmi's chilling revelation, and now the theft of her blood point to a systemic exploitation. Langbi's final, weary statement about "mongrels from the village" suggests a long history of this abuse.

What will Bayan do with this horrifying knowledge? How will this betrayal shape her actions and her relationship with her mother and the village moving forward?

The Father's Secret

(page 107)

“…”

Langbi cursing the villagers so openly was a first. Bayan was momentarily speechless, her mouth clamped shut. Langbi straightened her posture, letting out a long, weary sigh, as if shedding a heavy cloak.

"What do you want to know, child?" she asked, her voice softer now, but with an underlying current of profound exhaustion.

"...If I ask, will you answer?" Bayan's voice was hesitant, fragile, barely a whisper of hope. She desperately needed the truth, no matter how painful.

"Yes, I'll tell you. I was going to tell you today anyway," Langbi confirmed, her voice holding an unexpected note of finality, as if a long-held secret was finally ready to be unburdened.

Bayan roughly kicked off her shoes, the clatter loud in the small hut, and scrambled into the room. She shoved the low dining table to one side with a grunt, then plopped down abruptly in front of Langbi, her eyes wide, demanding answers.

"The jar, who took it?" Bayan demanded, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.

"That, I don't know myself," Langbi confessed, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Likely Danim or Yul's father took it. They're always the most zealous in these matters, the most eager to exploit."

"...The blood inside? They said... the villagers drank it, is that true?" Bayan's voice trembled, raw with apprehension, the words almost choking her. She needed to hear it from her mother, a confirmation to make sense of the monstrous act.

"Yes." Langbi's single word was heavy, a devastating confirmation that landed like a physical blow.

"For ten-something years, continuously?" Bayan pressed, disbelief warring with the grim confirmation, her mind reeling at the sheer duration of her unwitting sacrifice.

"Phew... Yes. That's right. It's been exactly twelve years," Langbi admitted, her voice tinged with a deep weariness, as if recounting a long, painful penance she had silently endured.

"Why? Why did they drink my blood?" Bayan demanded, her voice rising, edged with a desperate, furious need for an explanation for such a monstrous, prolonged act of exploitation.

(page 105)

"Your blood, before you become an adult, strengthens the Siyo tribe's healing power. It acts as a kind of panacea, an elixir of sorts," Langbi explained, her voice devoid of judgment, simply stating a cold, brutal fact.

So, the healing power that seemed to strengthen like a stroke of luck, starting at some point, had this dark secret behind it. My blood. They drank my blood and gained power, gained strength, yet they still treated me like a mutant, an abomination. They reviled me even as they consumed me. A wave of nausea surged through Bayan, stronger than before, a profound disgust for the villagers and for her own unwitting role. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control the disgust and the burgeoning, incandescent anger.

"So... that's why they watched me so closely? Because they were afraid I'd run away?" Bayan's voice was low, laced with a bitter understanding, finally piecing together the years of subtle surveillance.

"That would be their thinking, yes. To them, you were nothing less than a precious medicine, a walking elixir," Langbi stated, her tone detached, as if reciting a doctrine. "They probably couldn't sleep, consumed by fear, fearing someone else would snatch you away, or that their supply would vanish."

"What about you, Mom?" Bayan asked, her voice low, laced with a new, sharper suspicion, a betrayal that cut deeper than any physical pain. "What did you get from this? Why did you let them?"

"What do you mean?" Langbi's tone was guarded, a subtle shift in her composure, a warning in her voice.

Was the reason I suffered in such agonizing pain every month, the reason for the blood extractions, to provide them with blood? And for what? There must have been some gain, something my mother got in return for providing them with my blood, for sacrificing me. Bayan clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles white, her nails digging into her palms.

"You wanted to stay in the village, even with this kind of treatment, with us being outcast and despised. What promise did you make to them, Mom? You gave them my blood... what did you get in return? What was worth this?" Bayan's voice trembled with the unspoken accusation, the raw wound of betrayal.

"I don't know what you've heard, or from whom, but your assumption is wrong," Langbi said, her voice firm, suddenly cold, cutting through Bayan's pain.

"...What assumption did I make?" Bayan challenged, her gaze unwavering, pushing for the full truth, however painful.

(page 106)

"You're suspecting that I deliberately performed the blood extractions to obtain your blood, aren't you? That I did this to you for my own gain, for some twisted benefit?" Langbi's voice was low, laced with a deep, cutting hurt, a profound anguish that Bayan had never heard before, a sound of unimaginable pain.

"...Aren't you?" Bayan whispered, her voice barely audible, unable to deny the terrible thought that had poisoned her mind.

Smack!

Before Bayan could even finish her sentence, Langbi's arm swung out, swift and brutal, a force driven by pure, righteous fury and overwhelming pain. Bayan was struck squarely on the head by Langbi's open hand, the blow echoing in the small room, and tumbled to the floor, her head hitting the hard wood with a dull thud.

"Aargh! Why did you hit me?!" Bayan cried out, scrambling to sit up, her head throbbing, tears stinging her eyes, more from shock and hurt than physical pain.

"What on earth do you think of your mother, you ungrateful child?!" Langbi's voice was a ragged shout, laced with a raw, agonizing pain that startled Bayan more than the slap. "You tell me! What could a mother possibly trade for her own child's living blood?! What could be worth such a monstrous bargain, such a continuous sacrifice?!" Langbi's chest heaved, her blind eyes wide with an emotion so profound it twisted her features, a silent scream of agony.

"...If not, then fine..." Bayan mumbled, rubbing her stinging head, the realization slowly dawning on her, a wave of shame washing over her.

"Even if I could grasp the entire world in my hands, possess every power, every treasure imaginable, no mother would offer her child's living blood!" Langbi's voice was trembling, filled with a profound sorrow, a fierce, protective love that transcended her blindness, reaching out to Bayan.

Bayan, still rubbing her throbbing head, slowly began to smile, a weak, relieved grin spreading across her face, the warmth starting in her chest and spreading outwards. Mom didn't intentionally cause me pain. She wasn't one of them. She wasn't a monster. That was enough. The agonizing suspicion, the betrayal she had feared from her own mother, vanished. It was those bastards who drank the blood, not Mom. She suffered too, because of them, for me.

The feeling of being plunged into an outhouse, a suffocating disgust and betrayal that had consumed her, instantly vanished, replaced by a surge of fierce loyalty and understanding. Bayan glanced at Langbi, her mother's face still etched with the raw pain of the accusation, then cautiously reached out and gently took her mother's hand. It was cold, stiff with barely suppressed rage and hurt. As Bayan held it and kneaded it gently, slowly, lovingly, the tension in Langbi's hand began to soften, and for the first time in a long time, mother and daughter were truly, deeply connected in their shared suffering and their renewed bond.

(page 107)

"You needed to manage your energy through blood extraction until you became an adult. Do you think a mother would willingly tear at her own child's flesh? And not just once, but repeatedly, for years?" Langbi's voice softened, filled with a deep, heart-wrenching weariness. "I searched for other methods, believe me, but perhaps my abilities were lacking, for I could not find any alternative."

"Then why did you give them my blood? There must have been a reason for that, a trade-off," Bayan insisted, her voice quieter now, a desperate need to understand the full extent of the sacrifice.

"I gave them your blood, and I hinted at the power that resided within it," Langbi explained, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "In return... I extracted a solemn promise from them: that they would never touch us again, my daughter and I."

A promise not to touch them? This implied a prior threat. Who was threatening them? And why? What had they done wrong to deserve this? The contempt and coldness Bayan had received throughout her life, she could tolerate. But anyone touching her mother, harming her, was intolerable. Bayan frowned, her voice rising in a renewed surge of anger.

"Those bastards... they threatened you, didn't they?"

"They threatened me even when you were still in my womb," Langbi confessed, her voice a low, painful rasp. "At first, I still had my sight, and my powers were strong, so I could resist them, I could endure. But after you were born, my power and my sight gradually weakened, and eventually... they extended their reach to you. In the end, I had no choice but to offer your blood as bait, as the only thing that would keep them at bay."

"Why? Why was having a child without a father... such a great sin?" Bayan whispered, a dawning, terrible understanding beginning to form.

Langbi slowly raised her head, leaning it back against the wall. Her blind eyes, groping at the empty air, seemed to wander through some distant past, lost in painful memories. Bayan held her breath, not wanting to disturb her mother's fragile reverie, waiting for the pieces to fall into place.

(page 108)

"...They were afraid," Langbi finally murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Afraid you'd curse them?" Bayan guessed, though it felt wrong.

"No. They were afraid of the father being revealed. Those disgusting bastards were more afraid of that than of dying."

Afraid of the father being revealed? Why would they be afraid of that? Bayan tilted her head, confused. She didn't fully understand the meaning, but one fact became terrifyingly clear: the person who had threatened her mother, who had driven her to this desperate bargain, was her own father.

"...Then, the one who threatened you was Elder Danim, wasn't it?" Bayan asked, a chilling certainty forming in her mind.

"Danim? Yes, he was indeed one of them," Langbi confirmed, a flicker of something dark crossing her face. "But how did you know?"

Bayan hesitated, then slowly bowed her head in shame, her voice barely a whisper.

"He... he's my father, isn't he?"

"What?!" Langbi's voice was a sharp gasp, a sudden, explosive sound.

"When I was little, I overheard a conversation you had with Elder Danim," Bayan confessed, her voice tight with the memory. "You said I was his daughter. Of course, the Elder practically jumped out of his skin, denying it..."

"..." Langbi remained utterly silent, a profound stillness settling over her.

(page 109)

Langbi made no reply, as if the thought that Bayan might have known was simply unimaginable. Bayan rubbed her fingers nervously on the floorboards, then slowly, cautiously, raised her gaze.

"Uh, Mom, what's wrong?" Bayan gasped, her eyes widening in alarm.

Langbi's expression was terrifying, as if she were about to seize and kill someone. Her wide, white eyes, usually soft and clouded, now seemed to blaze with palpable killing intent and cold fury. Her tightly pressed lips were stark white, drained of color. The ominous atmosphere was suffocating, and Bayan swallowed hard, a dry gulp.

"Mom, why—"

Before Bayan could even finish her sentence, Langbi violently shook off Bayan's hand, which had been gently holding hers.

"Who is your father?!" Langbi roared, her voice echoing with a raw, primal rage.

"Huh? Uh... Danim..." Bayan stammered, taken aback by the ferocity.

"That scoundrel is not your father!" Langbi practically screamed, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

Langbi's face was rigid, hard as stone. Her clenched hands trembled uncontrollably. She looks like she's about to collapse. Bayan instinctively reached out and carefully, gently, patted Langbi's trembling hand, trying to soothe her. The revelation about her father, whoever he truly was, had clearly struck a nerve far deeper than Bayan could have imagined.

The revelation about Bayan's father, and Langbi's explosive reaction, introduces a new, profound layer of mystery and pain. Langbi's vehement denial of Danim as the father, despite Bayan's childhood memory, suggests a deeper, more complicated secret surrounding Bayan's true parentage and the source of the village's fear.

Who is Bayan's real father, and what is so terrifying about his identity that it drives Langbi to such a desperate pact and such an extreme outburst? This secret holds the key to understanding the full extent of their persecution and the twisted dynamics within the Siyo tribe.

A Mother's Agony

(page 107)

“Mom, please calm down, okay?” Bayan pleaded, trying to gently grasp Langbi’s trembling hands again, fear twisting in her gut.

“You have no father! You only have a mother! Only a mother, do you understand?!” Langbi shrieked, her voice raw, laced with an almost frantic desperation that clawed at Bayan's ears.

“Uh, Mom…” Bayan stammered, taken aback, recoiling from the sheer intensity of her mother’s outburst.

“Why aren’t you answering?! Answer me, now!” Langbi roared, her face ashen, her blind eyes wide and terrifying, fixed on some unseen tormentor. Yet, despite Langbi's chilling fury, Bayan, hesitant and fearful, still dared to utter the words she had long kept hidden, the resemblance too striking to ignore.

“…Elder Danim is my father, isn’t he…? Even though it’s hidden by his beard, I… I resemble him…”

“That scoundrel is nothing but a sinner deserving to be burned alive! He can never, ever be your father!” Langbi’s voice grew even more fervent, more enraged, instead of calming down, reaching a fever pitch. Bayan’s eyes widened, truly horrified now, the words painting a grotesque image.

“…What kind of sin did he commit to deserve being burned alive?” she whispered, a cold dread creeping into her bones.

Thump!

Langbi suddenly began pounding the floor with her fist, a dull, rhythmic thud against the wood, a primal expression of her pain. Her tightly bitten lips finally split, and blood trickled down her chin, staining the floor where her fist met the wood a growing crimson. Her hair, usually neatly tied back, had long since become a wild, disheveled mess, framing a face contorted in agony. Bayan watched her mother’s terrifying display, her heart pounding, utterly distraught. She couldn't bear it any longer, the sight too unbearable. With a desperate sob, Bayan strongly pulled Langbi into a tight embrace, trying to absorb her mother’s shattering grief.

(page 111)

“Mom! What’s wrong with you?! Please, try to calm down!” Bayan pleaded, holding her mother tightly, feeling the tremors wracking Langbi’s body.

Langbi, who had been struggling violently even in Bayan's arms, finally ceased her thrashing after a long, agonizing moment. Her body went limp, as if all strength had drained from her, and her lips merely trembled, her face vacant, lost, staring into an abyss only she could see. Bayan carefully leaned in, bringing her ear close to Langbi’s lips, straining to hear the faint, broken words.

“…Danim, Yul’s father, Galmi’s father, Saran’s father.”

What is she saying? Names, just names? Bayan gently smoothed Langbi’s tangled hair behind her ear, soothing her with quiet tenderness.

“Did they hurt you the most, Mom? Should I go teach them a lesson right now? I swear I’ll make them pay,” Bayan asked, her voice quiet, a fierce, vengeful protectiveness rising within her.

Langbi, who had been staring blankly at some unseen point, slowly, falteringly, reached out both hands and pulled Bayan’s face closer, her touch cold and trembling. Langbi’s expression was a horrifying mix of anger, profound sadness, and sheer terror, a kaleidoscope of suffering. Then, with a voice that trembled violently, like a desperate confession forced from the depths of her soul, she whispered:

“They… they are beasts in human skin.”

“I know. I’ll teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget, I promise…” Bayan began, her own anger blazing, ready to leap to her feet and confront them.

(page 112)

“And your mother…” Langbi cut her off, her voice breaking completely, a raw, guttural sound of unbearable pain.

Finally, tears streamed from Langbi's clouded, white eyes, thick drops falling onto Bayan's face, warm and salty against her skin.

“Your mother was… raped by those beasts, more times than I can count.” The words, delivered in a broken whisper, shattered the fragile peace of the hut, echoing with a horrifying finality.

When snow falls, the world becomes a little quieter. Not even the usual bird cries, common in the mountains, could be heard. Every sound seemed absorbed by the pristine blanket of white. Everything seemed to have stopped, frozen in time, an endless, profound stillness, mirroring the horror that had just been unleashed.

Tears flowed relentlessly from Langbi's tightly closed eyes, a silent river of grief. The hot tears stained her cheeks, leaving glistening tracks, gathered at her chin, and dropped, one by one, onto the floor, dark against the worn wood.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The tears were the only sound in the silent room, each drop a stark punctuation mark in the suffocating quiet. Bayan watched them fall, mesmerized by their slow, agonizing descent, a part of her numb with shock. Her vision blurred instantly, tears of her own welling up, unbidden. Why am I crying when I did nothing wrong? She hastily rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, but it was useless; the tears kept coming. Her chest felt like it would burst with pain, a pain so deep and profound it stole her breath, a shared agony with her mother. As she wept silently, heartbroken and enraged, Langbi's cold hand gently cupped her cheek, a fragile comfort.

“Don’t cry, child. I do not regret giving birth to you. You must not regret it either.” Langbi's voice was soft, broken, yet filled with an unwavering love, a strength that defied her suffering.

“Mom… Mom… I’m so sorry…” Bayan sobbed, clutching her mother's hand, the horrifying truth settling over her like a shroud, understanding the depth of her mother’s sacrifice and the monstrous cruelty of the village. The cold of the snow outside felt less chilling than the cold, hard truth revealed within the hut.

Langbi's confession is a devastating revelation, exposing the horrific truth behind her past and the village's cruelty. This profoundly deepens Bayan's understanding of her mother's suffering and the root of their persecution.

How will this traumatic revelation—the forced "blood extraction" and the repeated rapes—impact Bayan's perception of her own identity, her relationship with her mother, and her future actions regarding the village and the Siyo tribe?

A Mother's Sacrifice and Forbidden Sight

(page 113)

“It’s not your fault to be sorry, child. Rather, I should be grateful,” Langbi said softly, her thumb gently wiping away Bayan's tears, a faint, melancholic smile gracing her lips, filled with a bittersweet tenderness.

“…Why, Mom?” Bayan whispered, confusion etched on her face, trying to comprehend her mother’s gratitude amidst such pain.

“People have many branching futures laid out before them. Their future is decided by the choices they make,” Langbi began, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of a storyteller, ancient wisdom flowing from her lips. “A mother, your mother, was a shamaness, a priestess who could see prophecies, glimpse the threads of destiny. My work was to look into people’s futures and help them make the best choices, to guide them away from pitfalls. But even such a shamaness has a being whose fate she must never intervene with, a sacred, inviolable rule.”

“Who is that?” Bayan asked, leaning closer, captivated despite her turmoil, drawn into the gravity of her mother’s words.

“It is myself,” Langbi stated, her voice heavy with regret, the confession a stark weight in the quiet room.

Clack, clack.

Langbi sighed, her breath a soft whisper, as she rolled her prayer beads, the quiet clicking sound a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions. The hearth seemed to have gone cold, the embers dying, and the room was growing chilly. Bayan, noticing the cold, pulled the blanket closer and draped it over Langbi’s knees, a small, tender gesture of comfort and shared warmth.

“A shamaness does not look into her own future. The moment she tries to glimpse her future and intervene with it, she receives a divine punishment,” Langbi explained, her voice solemn, revealing the terrible cost of her actions.

“…Mom, so that’s why your eyes…” Bayan’s voice trailed off, a terrible, agonizing understanding dawning on her, connecting the dots of her mother’s suffering.

“Yes. I, as a shamaness, committed the forbidden act that I should never have done. I broke the most sacred rule,” Langbi confirmed, her voice filled with a profound sorrow. “As a result, I lost my sight.”

(page 114)

“You saw the future? Why? You knew you’d receive divine punishment, so why did you do it?” Bayan pressed, her voice laced with anguish, unable to fathom such a sacrifice, such a deliberate self-infliction of pain.

Langbi paused for a moment, her blind eyes closing, as if shutting out the haunting images of the past. Her eyelashes trembled violently, a tiny tremor reflecting the storm within. Her pale face seemed a mask of confusion and profound sorrow, lost in the torment of that memory, reliving the impossible choice.

“Because your future was invisible,” Langbi whispered, the words laden with a chilling desperation.

“…My future?” Bayan whispered back, utterly bewildered, her own existence tied to such a cosmic anomaly.

“The only beings whose future cannot be seen are the dead, those whose thread of life has been cut. I… I was prepared to do anything to save my child, to ensure your survival, even if it meant sacrificing myself. So, instead of looking into your future, which was shrouded in darkness, I looked into my own. Because I knew our fates would be intertwined, irrevocably linked.”

“But it’s not like I’m going to live with you until I die anyway! Why did you do such a useless, self-sacrificing thing?!” Bayan cried out, the depth of her mother's sacrifice hitting her with overwhelming force, her own future suddenly feeling like an immense, crushing burden.

As if sensing Bayan’s heartfelt emotion, the raw, confused love and pain, a faint, tender smile softened Langbi’s rigidly set face, a rare display of quiet joy.

“Such a temper, my fiery child. Do you think life has only one twist and turn? One single path of hardship? Even after giving them your blood and escaping their immediate threats, perhaps because you couldn't escape the pervasive influence of the dead, or some other dark force, your future remained as hazy as a fog-shrouded mountain, a path I still couldn't discern.”

“…” Bayan listened, a strange, profound mix of guilt and awe washing over her, realizing the continuous, unseen battles her mother had fought for her.

(page 115)

“Unless we lived our entire lives alone, isolated in these mountains, cut off from all others, you wouldn’t be connected to only me. You’d be intertwined with other beings, other lives, other fates. So, starting with myself, I examined each of those connections, one by one, tracing the intricate threads of destiny to find the source of the fog surrounding you. Most of my divine power was consumed then, utterly spent in that exhaustive search. Be grateful for the fact that you were born under such an extraordinary mother,” Langbi concluded, a hint of wry pride in her voice.

“…Yeah, I’m super grateful!” Bayan retorted, an involuntary burst of temper, even as her voice cracked, and she bit her lip hard to stop its trembling. Her mother’s blindness, the ultimate, agonizing sacrifice, was ultimately because of her. A profound sorrow festered within her, a raw, aching wound, and tears welled up again, blurring her vision, unable to stem the flow.

Langbi slowly, gently, reached out a hand, her touch hesitant. Bayan, on the verge of breaking into uncontrolled sobs, quickly leaned her head into that comforting hand, pressing her cheek against her mother’s palm. Langbi softly stroked her hair, a tender, loving gesture, and began to speak again, her voice a soothing murmur.

“Do you remember what your mother used to say?”

“…What saying?” Bayan asked, her voice thick with emotion, muffled against Langbi’s hand.

“That a parent’s duty and happiness lies in protecting their child, in nurturing their future.”

“…” Bayan looked at her mother through tear-filled eyes, the simple truth of the words resonating deeply within her.

“To be able to use my power for my child’s future, rather than selling it for a price to others, to use it for you, brought me such immeasurable happiness. It was the first time I was truly grateful for my divine power, for the gift that allowed me to do this for you.” Langbi's voice was filled with a profound, quiet joy, a love that transcended pain and sacrifice.

The awkward yet infinitely gentle touch and the soft, conversational tone made the tip of Bayan's nose sting even more, a fresh wave of tears threatening. Bayan, feigning gruffness even as her heart swelled with a new, fierce love and understanding, looked down at Langbi’s hand stroking her hair and gently squeezed it, holding onto the warmth, the connection, the unbreakable bond between them.

The Burden of Prophecy

(page 116)

“Tsk, truly a shamaness, always so eloquent… So, what did you actually see?” Bayan retorted, a touch of exasperation in her voice, the raw bitterness from moments ago softening into something akin to fond annoyance, a fragile peace settling between them.

“That, I cannot say,” Langbi replied, her blind eyes fixed on an unseen point, her voice a low, unyielding hum.

“No, but if you’re not going to tell me, then why did you even look in the first place? Why go through all that trouble and sacrifice?” Bayan pressed, her brow furrowed in confusion, still searching for a tangible answer.

“I already told you,” Langbi answered cryptically, a faint, knowing smile gracing her lips, frustratingly out of reach.

Bayan scratched the back of her head with an awkward expression, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Mom, um… I guess you still don’t know how dense your daughter is.”

“Know what, child?” Langbi asked, a hint of amusement, almost a playful twinkle, entering her voice.

“Your daughter, she’s not very smart, Mom. You’ve gotta spell it out.”

Langbi remained silent for a long moment, as if speechless, considering her daughter’s bluntness. Then, she let out a sigh so profound it sounded like the earth itself was groaning, weary with the weight of destiny.

“Phew… Such is my fate, to have a daughter who challenges even prophecy.”

“Seriously, I don’t remember anything at all. Not even a tiny bit. When exactly did you tell me?” Bayan insisted, a touch of genuine frustration returning, mixed with a desperate desire to understand her own destiny.

“I’ve told you countless times, through countless whispers and signs,” Langbi stated, her patience wearing thin.

“But when, exactly? Give me a precise moment!” Bayan cried, her voice rising in exasperation.

(page 117)

Langbi pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing again, a deep, tired sound. “Hmph… Very well. Listen closely, my impatient one: Give the red thread to the outsider with the blue thread.”

“What kind of gibberish is that? That’s like scratching someone else’s leg in your sleep! I told you I’m not smart, Mom!” Bayan exclaimed, throwing her hands up in bewildered frustration. The cryptic words meant nothing to her.

If divine secrets were revealed outright, without proper veiling, misfortune would surely follow. That’s precisely why no shamaness ever spoke her prophecies plainly, why the truths were always shrouded in metaphor and riddle. If the misfortune only affected herself, Langbi could bear it, could face any punishment. But the problem was that Bayan, her precious child, could also be endangered by a direct revelation. That was the constant torment.

This child… she doesn’t understand her mother’s heart, does she? She cannot grasp the delicate balance of protection. Oh dear, can this foolish girl truly navigate such a harsh world, fraught with unseen dangers? That’s my real worry, the burden that weighs heavier than my blindness.

Langbi, frustrated by Bayan's obtuseness yet filled with a profound love, raised her head and snapped, “Is that something to brag about…? Why don’t you just shout it from the rooftops, that you’re not smart! Announce it to the whole village!”

Langbi, who had been glaring fiercely with a raised voice, suddenly let out a soft snicker, a wry, unexpected sound, as if something amusing had just struck her. Then, she began to laugh, a deep, hearty chuckle that grew louder and louder, filling the small hut. It was a clear, unburdened laughter Bayan had never heard before, a sound of genuine release, and for the first time, a true, profound peace seemed to settle on her mother’s face. Contagiously, Bayan too let out a soft burst of laughter, the tension finally breaking.

“First you’re sobbing, then you’re angry, and now you’re laughing senselessly… What if hair starts growing in a very troublesome place because of all this commotion, child? What then, hm?” Langbi teased, a genuine playfulness returning to her voice, a lightness that was profoundly comforting.

(page 118)

“…Ah, Mom, stop pretending you can see me! It’s creepy!” Bayan retorted, her cheeks reddening slightly, a blush spreading across her face.

“A maiden’s voice shouldn’t be so unpleasant to hear, tsk. Go check on the fire. This room is an icebox; my bones are aching, child.” Langbi feigned a shiver, a playful nudge.

“Oh? Why didn’t you say so sooner?! Just a moment, I’ll get it blazing!” Bayan exclaimed, jumping up with newfound energy.

Bayan grumbled softly, a mere whisper of complaint, but headed directly towards the hearth. She opened the cover to find embers still alive, glowing faintly in the dim light. No need to start a new fire from scratch. She loosely placed dry kindling inside the hearth and blew gently, steadily, fanning the flames until they began to crackle and dance. As the smoke made her eyes sting, a convenient excuse, she discreetly rubbed them, wiping away any lingering tears, no longer tears of sorrow but of fury.

Once the moisture was gone, a potent, thick venom settled deep in her eyes, hardening her gaze. Bayan clamped her jaw shut, a silent vow passing her lips, glaring at the gradually growing flames as if they were her enemies.

Danim, Yul’s father, Galmi’s father, Saran’s father. The names echoed in her mind, a litany of tormentors.

Mom might have forgiven them, or perhaps she just accepted her fate, but I will never forgive them. Never. How can I capture and kill those bastards who dishonored my mother, sucked my blood for their own gain, yet still live so pompously, so unburdened, lording over this miserable village?

She wanted to run to the center of the village right now, in this very moment, expose their heinous deeds, reveal the true crimes of those beasts in human skin, and make them pay for their sins. She wanted to force them to kneel before her mother, to grovel in the snow, and beg for forgiveness, for mercy they did not deserve.

But who would believe my words? A wild, tainted child, an outcast, speaking against the pillars of their community?

Mom even gave up her sight, her very essence, for her child… And I, as her child, as the one she sacrificed everything for, can do absolutely nothing. I am utterly powerless.

No matter how much she pondered, how much she raged, there was no way, no path for retribution. They were the key figures of the village, the respected elders and powerful healers, and she was merely a dirty mutant, a despised anomaly. Moreover, her own blood, her own essence, had made those scoundrels even stronger; the thought made her feel like she just wanted to die, to simply cease to exist. It was the first time she had ever felt so utterly, crushing powerless. The injustice and outrage were so overwhelming, so profound, that tears threatened to fall again, hot and bitter against her cheeks. The flickering firelight danced in her vengeful eyes, reflecting a new, dangerous resolve.

A Vow of Vengeance

(page 119)

No. A chance will surely come. It has to.

The opportunity to return everything they’ve done to us, in full, will definitely come. For now, let’s leave this wretched village. Bayan felt a cold resolve settle deep within her. She could no longer tolerate those bastards lurking around her mother, their shadows touching what little sanctuary they had.

As the fire in the hearth roared back to life, casting flickering shadows across the small hut, Bayan closed the cover and sprang to her feet, her movements decisive. She opened the door slightly, a gust of frigid air sweeping in. The snow had piled up considerably outside, blanketing the world in an unbroken expanse of white. It showed no sign of stopping, meaning it would likely continue to fall for several days, perhaps even a week. Even after the snow ceased, no one would be able to reach them here, isolated as they were, for a long time. Bayan estimated the days, a plan already beginning to form in her mind, then walked back into the room, her gaze fixed on Langbi.

“Mom, let’s leave,” Bayan stated, her voice firm, resolute, leaving no room for argument.

“…Bayan.” Langbi’s voice held a touch of surprise, then perhaps, a dawning understanding, a weary acceptance.

“I know what happened to you, Mom. I know the truth now, and we can’t keep living in this village, not a day longer,” Bayan insisted, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “So don’t even think about saying you want to stay. No matter what, no matter what it takes, I’m taking you out of this village. We’re leaving.” Bayan’s words were a declaration, fueled by a fierce, protective love and a newfound, burning desire for retribution.

“And once we leave? Do you have another plan? Where will we go?” Langbi asked, her voice calm, assessing, weighing the practicalities against Bayan’s burning resolve.

“We have to go out and somehow gain strength. We have to become powerful,” Bayan insisted, gesturing to their meager surroundings, to the confines that had held them captive for so long. “We can’t do anything here, can we? We’re trapped.”

“Gain strength to do what, child?” Langbi prompted, her voice still quiet, but with an underlying current of knowing, a hint of the darkness that had always shadowed them.

Bayan glared into the empty air, her eyes blazing, as if her tormentors were standing right before her, their smug faces awaiting her judgment. Then, she whispered, her voice low and chilling, a promise forged in fire and tears:

(page 120)

“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to cut off their limbs one by one, slowly, brutally, and kill them. Before that, I’ll laugh as I watch them piss themselves in terror, just like they made you suffer.”

“Bayan.” Langbi’s voice was a soft caution, a single word, laden with a complex mix of fear, understanding, and perhaps, a hidden satisfaction.

“Aren’t you angry, Mom? Don’t you feel wronged, after everything they did to you?!” Bayan cried, her voice rising, raw with outrage and pain, a primal scream. “Are you just going to forgive them like this, just accept it and move on? I can’t do that! I can’t forgive them! I won’t!”

Langbi’s eyes, usually so clouded, seemed to widen, then she let out a hollow, bitter laugh that held no mirth, only a deep, weary resonance.

“Who said I’ve forgiven them, child?”

“…Oh, you haven’t?” Bayan stammered, a gasp escaping her, surprised by the unexpected answer, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

“Do you think your mother is a saint, Bayan? Do you think I am some benevolent spirit?” Langbi’s voice was dry, laced with a dark, cutting humor. “I am also a person. I am a woman who has suffered.”

“Then?” Bayan prompted, leaning in eagerly, her heart pounding with a desperate longing for shared vengeance.

“Your mother is merely waiting for her time, for the opportune moment.”

“When will that time come, Mom? Are you saying we should keep living here in this hell until then?” Bayan asked, a hint of impatience returning, the fear of delay pressing in on her.

Langbi looked calmly in Bayan’s direction, her expression unreadable, then, with a subtle shift in demeanor, changed the subject. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry, child.”

(page 121)

“Mom!” Bayan protested, exasperated by the sudden shift, but a glimmer of hope sparked within her.

“We can’t possibly break through this snow right now, can we? Not with this blizzard,” Langbi reasoned, her voice firm, practical. “Let’s eat first, fill our bellies, then we can talk about leaving, about what comes next.”

“R-really? You really mean it? You’re not just saying that? We’re going to leave this cursed village, aren’t we?!” Bayan’s voice was filled with renewed hope, almost childlike in its eagerness, desperate for the confirmation.

“Ah, yes, I said so, didn’t I? Now, bring the dining table over, before my stomach eats itself.” Langbi's tone held a hint of amusement, a rare lightness.

“Okay!” Bayan cheered, a burst of energy surging through her.

Bayan, afraid Langbi might change her mind, might retract the precious promise, quickly pulled the low dining table closer. The soup had grown cold, a thin film of oil floating on top, congealed and unappetizing.

“It’s too cold. I need to warm it up,” Bayan declared, already moving towards the hearth.

“It’s fine. Let’s just eat it as is. When will you have time to warm it up? My hunger won’t wait,” Langbi dismissed, her hunger evident, though her voice remained calm.

“No way! You get indigestion easily, Mom, are you going to eat something cold and make yourself sick?!” Bayan was adamant, her protective instincts kicking in, stronger than ever. “Just wait a little. I’ll warm it up quickly, promise.”

“…Don’t delay too long, then,” Langbi murmured, her voice almost imperceptible, a hint of vulnerability. “My resolve keeps wanting to weaken, Bayan.”

“What? Oh, seriously! It’s only been a moment since you decided to leave with me, and you’re already weakening?! Don’t you dare! I told you I’ll warm it up fast, so hang on!” Bayan exclaimed, half-annoyed, half-amused by her mother’s sudden admission, but spurred on by the urgency.

“…Yes, I understand, my fiery child,” Langbi conceded, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips.

Bayan snatched Langbi’s soup bowl, her movements swift and determined. She hurried to the hearth, poured the cold soup into the pot that had held it earlier, and quickly closed the lid, trapping the heat. As she inhaled the savory, comforting smell of meat beginning to warm, the hunger she had forgotten during the emotional turmoil now surged back with a vengeance, her stomach rumbling loudly. Bayan clutched her rumbling stomach and swallowed hard, her mouth watering. As soon as smoke rose and the soup began to bubble with a satisfying gurgle, she quickly scooped out a large serving into a fresh bowl and placed it on the dining table, a silent promise of a new beginning.

A Mother's Final Gift

(page 122)

“Mom, try some soup. I put in a lot of meat,” Bayan urged, pushing the steaming bowl closer, the aroma filling the small hut.

Langbi used her chopsticks to pick up some rice and brought it to her lips, then scooped up the soup Bayan offered with her spoon and slurped it down with a soft, contented sound. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, lost in thought. Then, as if a memory had just surfaced, she opened her mouth, her voice quiet.

“Bayan.”

Bayan, who had been waiting for Langbi to take a bite and was just scooping a full spoonful of soup for herself, looked up, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Why? Do you want some water? Is it too hot?”

“Sing a song for me,” Langbi requested, her voice soft, almost wistful.

“…Now?” Bayan blinked, surprised by the sudden, peculiar request in the middle of their meal.

“My stomach doesn’t feel settled. I thought eating while listening to your song might help a little,” Langbi explained, a faint, melancholic smile gracing her lips.

“…But I’m hungry, Mom,” Bayan mumbled, her stomach rumbling faintly in protest.

“If you don’t want to, then don’t. Indigestion is nothing new for me; I’ll get over it eventually,” Langbi dismissed, her voice holding a slight hint of disappointment, a subtle manipulation that Bayan, despite her intelligence and growing independence, often fell for.

(page 123)

“Ah, alright!”

With a sigh, Bayan put down her spoon, her hunger momentarily forgotten, and began to sing. Her voice was soft at first, a hesitant melody, then growing more confident as she lost herself in the tune. Langbi listened, her head tilted slightly, slowly eating her rice, bathed in the comforting sound. After a moment, she spoke, her voice laced with an unexpected solemnity that made Bayan stop mid-note.

“Do not let your eyes be clouded by rage, so much that you forget yourself. You will wield the greatest power only when you are wholly you, when your spirit is unblemished by hatred. Remember your mother’s words, child. Cherish them.”

Langbi’s sudden, unexpected words made Bayan stop singing completely, a tremor running through her. Does she mean I shouldn’t express my anger, even if I’m furious, even after everything they’ve done? Bayan tilted her head, confused, about to ask for clarification, when Langbi continued, her voice taking on a different, more practical tone.

“And about the divine bead…”

“The divine bead? Why are you bringing that up now?” Bayan asked, her confusion deepening.

“It is yours now,” Langbi stated simply, as if passing on a trifle, not a powerful artifact.

“Huh?” Bayan stared blankly, utterly bewildered.

“It was originally something that contained the essence of the energy in your blood. You know, the one that kept growing larger inside of you?” Langbi elaborated, sensing Bayan’s bewilderment.

“Oh! Right! At first, it was definitely fingernail-sized! I thought it was strange, but I never asked,” Bayan exclaimed, a sudden flicker of recognition in her eyes. “But why are you suddenly giving it to me now? I’m not a shamaness, and I don’t have even an ounce of divine power. What would I do with it? No, thanks.” Bayan dismissed it, shaking her head, genuinely perplexed by the unwanted gift.

As if she hadn’t expected the refusal, a look of discomfort, almost frustration, crossed Langbi’s face.

(page 124)

“What if it contains some kind of power, child? What if it’s more than you imagine?” Langbi pressed, a faint tremor in her voice, a hidden urgency.

“Honestly, Mom, even if it had power, what would I do with it? I can’t use it, I told you!” Bayan argued, exasperated, her practical mind unable to grasp the mystical.

“You never know. Perhaps if you swallow it, it could cure illnesses, or if you swallow it with a certain man, you could be eternally bound, their destinies woven together…” Langbi mused, her voice trailing off, a strange, faraway look in her blind eyes.

“I already recover from most illnesses just fine on my own. And I don’t have any man I’d want to swallow it with, anyway. That’s a creepy thought,” Bayan scoffed, disgusted by the notion of eternal binding.

Langbi roughly slammed down the spoon she was holding onto the table with a sharp clatter, her patience finally snapping.

“Just take it if your mother tells you to! Why are you so argumentative?! It was originally yours, I told you! It belongs to you!” Langbi snapped, her frustration evident, her voice rising.

“Ah, I said no! If you want to give me something, give me something else! Something useful!” Bayan retorted, her own temper flaring, pushing back against her mother’s intensity.

“You insolent child… Your mother has nothing else to give you, that’s why!” Langbi’s voice cracked, a desperate edge to it, laced with an profound, heartbreaking finality.

“Eh? What do you mean by that?” Bayan tilted her head, utterly confused by the strange tone, the unusual words. Langbi often spoke in riddles, but today, it was particularly severe, almost as if… as if she wouldn't see her again, as if this was a farewell. Surely, she’s not saying I should leave alone, is she? A cold dread seized Bayan. This time, she would absolutely not yield.

“Don’t even think about changing your mind, Mom. I’m prepared to carry you out on my back while you’re asleep, if I have to. This time, Mom, you’ll have to listen to me. I’m serious. Have I ever, even once, not listened to you before? No, right? I’ve always obeyed you. So…” Bayan’s voice was firm, a plea and a demand wrapped into one, her resolve unshakeable.

Desperate Flight

(page 125)

The endless stream of nagging, which had seemed like it would continue forever, suddenly ceased. From Bayan's mouth, which had been gaping in disbelief as she stared blankly at Langbi, a sudden, tearing scream erupted, raw with terror.

“Mom—!”

“Cough!”

A horrifying gush of dark red blood poured from Langbi’s mouth once more, staining her chin and dripping onto the floor, a stark, terrifying contrast to the quiet, domestic scene.

Crash!

The dining table overturned with a violent clatter, scattering bowls and food across the wooden floor. Hot soup splattered onto Bayan’s legs, but she felt nothing, the searing pain utterly eclipsed by the terror seizing her heart. Bayan desperately, frantically, embraced Langbi, who was falling backward, her body seizing.

“Mom! Mom, what’s wrong with you?! What’s happening?!” Bayan cried, her voice cracking with desperation, trying to hold her mother upright.

Cold sweat instantly beaded on Langbi’s forehead, glistening in the dim light. Her body began to convulse violently, a terrifying dance of pain, and the ceaseless flow of dark red blood spurted everywhere, spattering Bayan’s face and clothes, a gruesome spray. Bayan desperately wrapped her arms around Langbi’s flailing limbs, trying to hold her still, to offer some meager comfort against the overwhelming agony.

“Mom!”

(page 126)

Bayan didn't know what to do, her mind a whirlwind of panic. It felt like a terrible, suffocating nightmare, a cruel illusion. If only I could use my healing power now, if only I had it, I could save her! But all she could do was cling to Langbi and sob, her own tears mingling with her mother's blood. She hated herself for being so utterly powerless, so useless in this moment of crisis. No. This isn't right. I can't break down now. Bayan tightly closed her eyes, shaking her head to clear the tears, forcing them back, her resolve hardening.

“Mom, just bear with it a little longer,” she choked out, her voice rough with tears and desperate resolve. “I’ll take you to the village. We have to get you help.”

Bayan quickly brushed off the blanket, now messy with food and blood, and carefully wrapped Langbi in it. She hoisted her mother onto her back, the familiar weight surprisingly heavy now, securing her tightly with a rope, coiling it around her own body to prevent her from falling, binding them together. She grasped the wall, her knuckles white, carefully stood up, and steadied herself. Her legs trembled violently, perhaps from not having eaten, perhaps from sheer terror. Bayan planted her feet firmly, carefully adjusted Langbi's fiercely convulsing body, holding her close, and stumbled out of the house, into the biting cold.

The biting wind lashed at her face, stinging like a whip. Snow swirled so fiercely she could barely see ahead, reducing the world to a blurry white canvas. The tear tracks on her cheeks instantly froze, turning to icy streaks that pulled at her skin.

Bayan reached back with one hand, pulling the blanket higher to cover Langbi’s face, protecting her from the brutal wind and the blinding snow. Then, she plunged into the snowdrifts that reached her thighs, each step a monumental effort. The clothes soaked in soup were now stiff with ice, clinging painfully to her skin. Her legs, buried deep in the snow, ached as if they would break off, then finally went numb, losing all sensation. It’s better that way, at least I don’t feel the pain, she thought, her mind strangely detached. Even if my legs froze and had to be amputated, it would be fine, as long as I could save my mother. Bayan continued to push through the snow, each step a desperate struggle for survival.

She ran wildly, gasping for breath, each inhale a burning pain in her lungs, for a long, frantic time. Still, there was no sign of the village, no flicker of light in the vast, snowy expanse. Despite the freezing weather, sweat streamed down her back, and her body felt feverish, burning with exertion. Her heart pounded as if it would burst from her chest, a frantic drum against her ribs. Her ears were ringing, a dull roar, and the metallic taste of blood filled her throat. Bayan stumbled for a moment, her foot catching on something hidden beneath the snow, then she forced herself to stop, leaning against a snow-covered tree, gasping for air, trying to regain her bearings.

The mountain was a dark, silent expanse, utterly swallowed by snow, a desolate, hostile landscape.

(page 127)

Where… where am I? Did I take the wrong path because of the blinding snow? Panic clawed at her throat again.

Damn it! For a moment, tears threatened to burst forth, hot and furious, but she squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them wide open, shaking her head. I can’t be foolish now. I can’t lose hope. No matter what, it’s downhill from here, so I haven’t come the wrong way, not entirely. I just need to keep going this way. Keep going.

Bayan forcibly calmed her racing heart, shoving the terror down, then began to run again. She moved frantically, her legs pumping, as if fleeing from something terrifying, something closing in on her, a shadow of death. The thought of losing her mother consumed her, filling her with uncontrollable dread, a primal fear that drove her onward. Her legs had already given out, trembling violently with exhaustion, and the rope binding Langbi to her dug into her skin, chafing painfully, but she ignored it. She had no strength left to run, but she ran anyway, and ran, and ran. She was too scared to stop, too terrified to even consider it. Bayan plunged through the thigh-deep snow, tearing down the mountain path, propelled by sheer will.

“Hah! Hah!” she gasped, each breath a painful rasp, ragged and thin in the frigid air.

As she ran in a daze, her eyes unfocused, a warm hand gently cupped her cheek, surprising her. Then it tapped lightly, a familiar, comforting rhythm. Bayan’s unfocused, blank eyes instantly sharpened, snapping back to life, her gaze locking onto her mother's face.

“Mom!”

“Bayan…” Langbi’s voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it was there, a lifeline.

“…Hah, hah, Mom? Are you awake? Are you with me?” Bayan stammered, tears blurring her vision, tears of relief now.

“My daughter…” Langbi whispered again, her voice a fragile comfort, a blessing.

Ah! Ah! Thank you! Thank you! Tears of profound relief streamed down Bayan’s face, washing away the fear and the exhaustion. She’s conscious! At least one hurdle has been overcome. We made it this far. Now, all they needed to do was reach the village and get her mother healing. She had been maddeningly afraid that something terrible would happen before she could even try to help, before she could truly act, but now a tiny bit of her mind felt at ease, a fragile hope blossoming. Bayan sniffled, her nose running, and carefully adjusted Langbi’s drooping body, holding her close, her resolve renewed. They would make it. She had to.

A Final Goodbye

(page 128)

“Ugh! Mom, just a little longer. We’re almost there, I promise!” Bayan grunted, her muscles screaming, readjusting Langbi’s increasingly heavy weight on her back. Each word was a desperate breath, forced out against the searing pain in her lungs.

“…Don’t cry, child,” Langbi whispered, her voice barely audible above the howling wind, thin as a thread in the vast, snowy silence.

“Don’t talk! You need to conserve your strength, Mom. Just a little more, we’ll be there any moment now,” Bayan insisted, her voice tight with desperation, battling against a rising tide of terror. She felt a cold dread creeping in, a premonition she desperately tried to push away.

“…After you were born… there wasn’t a single moment… when I wasn’t… happy, my child.” Langbi’s words were disjointed, each one a struggle, yet imbued with a profound, unwavering love that cut through the physical agony.

“Huh?” Bayan barely registered the words, her focus entirely on moving forward, on placing one trembling foot in front of the other.

“Your mother… doesn’t regret it… And you… you mustn’t regret it either.” Langbi’s voice grew even fainter, her breathing shallow, but her message was clear, a final, loving command.

Bayan’s heart plummeted, a leaden weight in her chest. Her mind went hazy, and a deafening ringing echoed in her ears, drowning out the storm. Tears streamed down her face without reason, a sudden, uncontrollable torrent of grief, cold against her frozen cheeks. Bayan bit her trembling lip, hard, tasting blood, trying to ground herself.

No! No! Not now! Please, not now!

Driven by an instinctive terror, a primal fear of abandonment, she wildly shook her head, trying to deny the inevitable. But a voice, thin as a silken thread, tapped at her ears, a fragile whisper trying to bring her back to reality, to the present moment.

“My daughter… how grown… you must be…?” Langbi whispered, a profound yearning in her voice, a mother's last attempt to see her child.

“…Uh, Mom… p-please… don’t leave me…” Bayan stammered, tears blurring her vision, unable to articulate the full, crushing weight of her fear.

“I should… hold you…” Langbi murmured, her voice fading even further, a regret for the embrace she could no longer give.

“Uh, Mom? Mom, please! Stay with me!” Bayan cried, shaking her mother gently, desperately, trying to rouse her, to bring her back.

“My daughter… Happy… birth… day…” Langbi’s words trailed off, incomplete, swallowed by the wind and the silence.

“N-no…!” Bayan choked out, a raw, guttural sob tearing from her throat, a sound of utter devastation.

The warm hand that had rested on her cheek slowly lost its strength, the last warmth draining from it, then fell limply to her side. Bayan swayed, her legs giving out beneath her, then collapsed onto the snow, sinking into the icy drifts, the impact jarring her to her core. Like a dam breaking, the sobs she had held back, held in for so long through all the years of suffering, all the miles of desperate flight, finally erupted, uncontrollable and devastating. A primal wail ripped through the silent, snowy night.

“Mom!”

With her dead mother on her back, her body a heavy, lifeless weight, Bayan turned eighteen. The bitter cold of the night, the endless snow, and the profound, isolating grief became the harsh markers of her arrival into adulthood, forever etched with loss.

[wqbytop100]

WQBY

Top100 for the week ending February 9, 2025

Believe (Shooting Stars) --R3HAB, Mufasa & Hypeman, Mufasa, RANI -1 [2weeks@#1]

Everything Changes (But I Wont) --Rose Gray -63 --2weeks--

I Only Smoke When I Drink --NIMINO -6 --21weeks--

Told You So --Martin Garrix & Jex -22 --10weeks--

Heaven Knows --KASKADE & PUNCTUAL f/Poppy Baskcomb -15 --9weeks--

Someone Else --GT_OFICE -3 --8weeks-- [4weeks@#1]

Focus --John Summit f/CLOVES -8 --3weeks--

The Door --Teddy Swims -9 --7weeks-- (#7)

SunnyD --Emel, Whethan -5 --5weeks-- (#5)

Vibe --Bruno Martini, Avi Snow, No'Me -10 --14weeks--

Positions --Andy C, Wholsmoli -2 --13weeks-- (#2)

TYSM --Cheat Codes, Salem IIese -13 --8weeks--

Heart First --Lucas & Steve f/Jordan Shaw -11 --10weeks-- (#2)

Yesterday --Alan Walker, Ali Gatie -18 --3weeks--

Filthy Richmas --Ella Henderson -4 --7weeks-- (#4)

Maybe it's Over --Morgan Page, Damon Sharpe -12 --14weeks-- [2weeks@#1]

Without You --Petite Biscuit, Surf Mesa, JP Saxe -17 --7weeks--

Zen Cowboy --Anabel Englund -21 --6weeks--

Imposture Syndrome --Let Down -55 --4weeks--

Swim --Becky Hill -7 --10weeks-- (#6)

Is This Love --LP Globbi, Danielle Ponder -20 --16weeks-- [4weeks@#1]

Slow Motion --Marshmello, Jonas Brothers -26 --3weeks--

Let It Go --NOTSOBAD, MA:RK -24 --10weeks--

Chain Reaction --Ferry Corsten, MERYLL -19 --11weeks--

Bread --Sofi Tukker, Odd Mod (Odd Mod Remix) -23 --11weeks-- (#2)

Along For The Ride --COIN -14 --18weeks-- (#2)

Lead The Life --Morgan Page, Bymia -16 --20weeks-- (#2)

Modern Tragedy --Cheat Codes, Julia Church -25 --19weeks-- (#2)

Dancing In The Dark --Noizu, Annaca -100 --2weeks--

Call My Name --AVAION -62 --4weeks--

Don't Lie --The Chainsmokers, Kim Petras -30 --18weeks-- (#3)

Don't Let Go --NERIAH -29 --19weeks-- (#3)

Disease --Lady Gaga -27 --14weeks-- (#14)

This Rhythm --PROSPA f/RAHH -36 --10weeks--

Keep It Exciting --Mr. Belt & Wezol, Qobra, Alex Hosking -33 --10weeks-- (#13)

Somedays --Sonny Fodera, Jazzy & D.O.D (Dombresky Remix) -32 --13weeks-- (#6)

Before I Let You Go --CYRIL, MarLo -31 --16weeks-- (#4)

Dead Right --Let Down -39 --10weeks-- (#12)

Hold On Me --Kygo, Sandro Cavezza -48 --9weeks--

Without Ya --BAKERMAT -47 --9weeks--

Heaven In My Hands --Matoma -45 --10weeks--

Keep On Movin Up --Qorion -54 --10weeks--

Wrong Feels Right --FORMAT:B

Turn Off The Lights --Chris Lake, Alexia Roberts -35 --11weeks-- (#16)

Cinema ---YouNotUs, Cheat Codes -38 --13weeks--(#17)

Been There Before --Jorvis Voorn, Pig&Dan, LIVI -34 --14weeks-- (#8)

Forever --HUGEL & Diplo f/Malou & Yuna -37 --13weeks-- (#5)

Alone With You --Josiah Queen, Jervis Campbell -52 --9weeks--

Lights On --Marshmello, FAANGS -51 --10weeks--

Beautiful Day --Mike Posner -41 --19weeks-- (#9)

Do You Really Love Him --Good Life, Elderbrook -50--19weeks-- (#17)

Heal My Heart --Imanbek, YouNotUs -40 ---23weeks--[1week@#1]

Black Friday (Pretty Like The Sun) --Lost Frequencies, Tom Odell -49 --15weeks-- (#20)

Save My Soul --BAKERMAT, AMANZI -42 --10weeks-- (#19)

His Problem Instead --Alexander Stewart -66 --9weeks--

After Five --Luke Alessi -78 --10weeks--

Without You --Phantoms, Mariah Colon -76 --9weeks--

You --BUNT., Oaks -65 --

Perfect --PUNCTUAL, Lewis Thompson -56 --18weeks-- (#29) [OFF]

Looking For Love --Alok, Anitta -57 --10weeks-- (#50)

Walk With Me --Felix Jaehn, Shouse -61 --7weeks--

<>Rain --PARISI, Clementine Douglas -(re-entry) -[last on @#84 1/19/25] --now8weeks--

Heaven Feels Like --SLANDER, Fairlane -89 --13weeks-- (#62)[OFF]

Lights Camera Action --Kylie Minogue -60--12weeks-- (#60)

Another World --HUGEL, HAYLA (HUGEL Remix) -68 --3weeks-

Good Lie --Sonny Wern, Felix Samual -70--3weeks--

Wacuka --AVAION -86 --3weeks--

Nuraan --Nandu, Tripolism -84 --3weeks--

***Goodbye's Been Good To You --Teddy Swims -(new) --1week--

I Found You --Switch Disco, Charlotte Haining, Felix -44 --19weeks-- (#4) [OFF]

Who Created Love --SIDEPIECE f/Midian -46 --22weeks-- [2weeks@#1] [OFF]

Never Letting Go --Alok, Gryffin, Julia Church -53 --17weeks-- (#4)[OFF]

Letting Go --Drove -28 --18weeks-- (#2)[OFF]

Gasoline --Koyal -75 --4weeks-- [OFF]

Love --Armin Van Buuren, Omnia -87 --3weeks--

Apple --Charlie XCX -94 --2weeks--

Alibi --SEVDALIZA, YSEULT, Paballo Vittar (Tiesto Remix) -69 --4weeks-- (#63)

Hypnotized --Anyma, Ellie Goulding -96 --3weeks--

Someone For Me --Kylie Minogue, YouNotUs -95 --3weeks--

Please Don't Go --Gioli & Assia -72 --4weeks--

All I Know --TELYKAST -71 --6weeks-- (#65)

Like Sunshine, Sigala -74 --16weeks-- (#53)[OFF]

Onanon --Kellen -73 --4weeks-- (#72) [0FF]

Meet Me --Pat Premier, Dave Aude Remix -81 --7weeks-- (#73)

By Your Side (In My Mind) --Leony -98 --3weeks--

Autopilot --NIIKO & SWAE, Twin diplomacy -93 --3weeks--

***Push The Tempo --Sub Focus, Katy B, Odd Mod Remix -(new) --1week--

The Drums --Cosmic Gate, Maxim Lanny -90 --11weeks-- (#48) [OFF]

Kick The Nation --Lost Frequencies, Pickle -82 --4weeks-- [OFF]

***Hurry Up Tomorrow --The Weeknd -(new) --1week--

***Another Life --NOTD, Oaks -(new) --1week--

***Blue Symphony --KREAM, Jem Cooke -(new) --1week--

***Senorita --Tiago PKZ -(new) --1week--

Want U Bad --MKX (Dave Aude Remix) -67 --4weeks--

Edge Of Saturday Night --The Blessed Madonna, Kylie Minogue -64 --15weeks-- (#XX)

Angel In The Dark --Anyma, Massano, Nathan Nicholson -97 --3weeks--

Right On Time --Felix Cartal, Tegan & Sara -92 --8weeks-- (#XX)

Dancing On My Own --Flight Facilities, DRAMA -91 --10weeks--

Falls Down --James Carter, Lucas Estrada -88 --6weeks--

***Toxic Till The End --Rose -(new) --1week--

7new*** and 1 <> re-entry 2/9/2025 #<>62 Rain #69 Goodbye's Been Good To You #87 Push The Tempo #90 Hurry Up Tomorrow #91 Another Life #92 Blue Symphony #93 Senorita #100 Toxic Til The End

[todays-just-a-daydream]

lesson no. 1 in ticketmaster: just say no

looking at tickets for a local show to gauge the fees that ticketmaster might add on the oasis general sale tickets tomorrow.

this show i’m using as an example is a week from now. it probably will not sell out as it’s a new artist in a venue that’s outdoors and typically doesn’t sell out completely.

i click on general admissions for 2 tickets. they are listed at $35 each. so $70 face value and i’m curious what service fees will be added to $70.

but once i go check out, ticketmaster gives me an alert that the price of the ticket i selected has changed. say what?

my $35 per ticket price has changed to $49 each. but i looked at the venue map. i know what i clicked on. the $49 ones are in front of the section i want.

so i say no. i close out my checkout and go back to the venue page and click on the same tickets again.

then i go to checkout again. this time i get no message about any price change. the $35 price holds and it calculates the total with fees added. viola!

let’s be real, this is a scam. they tried to tell me the price had change to get me to buy a more expensive ticket. but the price hadn’t changed! obviously here, the difference is only $30. but you can see how much worse it would be if the ticket prices are double or even triple that price.

now obviously when you’ve been waiting in a queue for ages the last thing you want to do is close out. but in fact i saw multiple people name this as a method in the first uk round of tickets for getting the price they wanted. it did not impact your line in the queue. you can drop a ticket and add a ticket without a problem.

think of it as asking a grocery store clerk to help you get an item from the top shelf. you tell them what you want and they return with something different. what would you say? of course you’d say no i don’t want that one i want this one. same here.

lesson 2: service fees are killer.

the service fee comes out to less than $10 per ticket. that looks smaller and more acceptable cause the ticket is cheaper. but do some simple math. $8.90 out of $35? that’s 25% of the ticket price. so if the ticket is $350, is the ticketmaster service fee now $89 per ticket or $178 for 2 tickets ? cause that’s gonna bump a $200 ticket to $300 and a $300 ticket to $400.

keep this in mind when writing down your preferred price and ceiling price. if it goes beyond your ceiling price, don’t pay.

lesson 4: don’t forget to add insurance.

this is oasis. oasis in america. after a decade long feud. look they’ll most likely be fine. but let’s be real their track record is not so good. it’s a year out. no one really knows the real state of the gallaghers relationship. too many unknowns here. i’d never do it normally. but here, it qualifies. fork out for the insurance.

some links i found helpful:

reddit presale thread / metlife map with prices / metlife seat views / reddit ticket guide

have some tips for surviving ticketmaster? share them below.

see you on the queue at noon. (or you know in 30 minutes for the waiting room cause ticketmaster wants to eat my whole day.)

[st4rguy]

1, 4, 10, 11, 12, 17, 18, 19, 23, 29, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 48, 68, 88, 89, 92, 93, 98 for the homestuck thing ^^ feel free to skip anything if u want lol

@sleepy-kitty-boy lets gooooo sorry this took so long answers under the cut

original post -> st4rguy.tumblr.com/post/743052789002977280

1: When did you first get into Homestuck? around mid-October last year, I think I had started reading previously but got like. 20 pages in.

4: Ever made your own chumhandle? yeah, I have, it's cosmopoieticQuestant. idk if it's a good one and I don't use it for anything but l like big fancy words and its abbreviation would be CQ and because I'm a fucking nerd that makes me happy. uhh cosmopoietic is a word I really like it means universe-creating so yeahg 👍

10: Ever drank Faygo? No, I have not ever :P

11: Favorite Alpha kid? mmm that's a tough choice but probably Jane?? I find her fascinating like I could write an essay about her.

12: Favorite Alpha troll? Meenah. she's funny, spunky and fun to draw. I like to give her an anglerfish antenna just because why not. Her and (Vriska)'s relationship is. fascinating. Her Aranea are adorable tho.

17: Favorite Beta kid? Egbert probably? I love them equallyyyy

18: Favorite Beta troll? uahgh. thats difficult. honestly, I don't know.

19: Favorite Beta character overall? I simply could not pick.

23: Favorite guardian? MOM. ROXY. ok like. y'ever think about like. how she likely knew she was going to die. And she basically raised Joey and Jude from when she was a teenager. and we don't know how their story ends yet. I think about her quite a bit.

29: Favorite Friendsim character? HAVE MY LIST: CIRAVA, BRONYA, SKYLA, POLYPA, KONYYL, TYZIAS, AZDAJA, TIRONA, MARSTI, CHARUN, WANSHI, DARAYA AAAAND LANQUE. <- troll call order btw. I loooove them

33: Favorite pale ship? I'll have to go with the classic and say meowrails. you can't beat them.

34: Favorite pitch ship? JANEVRIS. rarepair blast attack!

35: Favorite flushed ship? scratch n sniff perhaps. idk sure I like em.

36: Favorite ashen ship? good question i love the Ashen quadrant I do not know

37: Favourite vacillating ship? KONYYL AND AZDAJA. I know no one cares but I love them. idk if they "vacillate" per se if you ask me they have like. whatever the signless and the disciple had going on. KONYYL LITERALLY SHARES HER THEME WITH THE DISCIPLE.

48: Zodiac troll? Are you happy with them?: I'm born on the cancer-leo cusp so Karkat or Nepeta I love those guys

68: Classpect you identify with currently? uhhh page of space probably. I'm bad at classpects but it fascinates me nonetheless.

88: Favorite Homestuck fics? Early June by RoseGardenofEden, Detective Pony by sonnetstuck and Pilot Light, Pale Rapture by purplebard (series) to name a few

89: Favorite Homestuck fanartists? missbehaviourOuO, conceptofjoy, tgcg, dammarchy211, teethcritter, serfuzzypushover, and like a bunch more

92: Favorite typing quirk? MEENAH FEFERI OR NEPETA. I LOVE PUNS. THEY INFECTED ME WITH THEIR STUPID PUNS. and they are also just cool 👍

93: Favorite MSPFA? burning down the house! idk if it counts really it's not hosted on mspfa but that's probably the most apt description and I think it's really cool and would highly recommend it

98: What characters do you relate most to? Aradia maybe? I tend to go through spells where I feel really detached and apathetic. yk. depression. but uh that's kinda heavy! I also am fascinated by dead things, as well as diseases and fungus and bugs and shit like that but they kinda scare me.

[theghostpinesmusic]

If 12/28 was the show that delivered a sledgehammer to the kneecaps of my belief that post-'21 Phish wasn't worth dedicating much of my time or attention to, 12/29 was the show that brought that sledgehammer crashing down on that belief's head, silencing it for all time in an ORGY OF HEROIC VIOLENCE

Okay, okay, sorry...I've been listening to a bunch of episodes of Behind The Bastards and it's clearly affecting me...in a good way?

Speaking of oblivion, "Oblivion" may not have been the highlight of 12/29 (I'd humbly suggest the "Chalkdust Torture" that precedes it to open set two), but it's a new Phish song, and there's a nice, crispy video of it on the official channel, so we're doing it.

Before I dive in to how awesome this jam is, one moment of snark: I appreciate the balls it takes to play "Oblivion" and "Sand" in the same set since they are basically the same song. Fight me in the commeeeeeeeeeeeeeents!

So, "Oblivion." There isn't much to say about it in a historical sense, since it was first played in July '23 and has been played a whole seven more times since. For reference, "Bathtub Gin," which I wrote about last time, debuted in '89 and has been played 304 times over 1,751 shows.

So...yeah.

I do know that "Oblivion" and a bunch of other new Trey songs were debuted during the short run that he and the Trey Anastasio Band (TAB) played in June of '23, then a few of those songs, "Oblivion" included, were picked up by Phish and adapted. I haven't sat down and listened through those TAB shows yet (blame Goose), but what I've heard translated to the Phish oeuvre ("Oblivion," "Ether Edge") I've liked so far. In particular, I find "Oblivion" really catchy in a somewhat dark way and appreciate that as the band keeps on keeping on they seem to be coming up with more songs that are good songs and good jam vehicles instead of just one or the other.

For what it's worth, and in case you're immediately wondering what you've stumbled upon, the first bit of this video is the ending of the "Chalkdust" that I lauded above: "Oblivion" proper starts around the 0:45 mark. There's a nice little organ solo from Page and a great call-and-response vocal outro to the song (which are both typical, from what I can tell, but I like them), and then Trey leads into the jam with some soloing starting at 5:05.

This jazzy, dare-I-say "Sand"-like soloing goes on for a bit. Mike is a monster here, too, but he gets sort of overshadowed in the mix when Trey starts ripping.

What even are these stage lights?! Fantastic.

Page's jazz-chording starts to cut through a bit more just after the 7:00 mark, and it sounds like this pushes Trey to move his soloing to something a bit more...reserved? My lack of music theory knowledge is showing itself again, here, but this section feels different.

By 7:45, Mike and Trey are both laying down fuzzy walls of noise for Page to solo over. As usual, whatever Fishman is playing here is beyond normal human comprehension.

There's a pause for breath at 8:30, and then things get even weirder as everyone (it seems) decides to actually play off of whatever the hell Fishman is doing. At this point in the jam during my view of the show, I was laughing out loud watching these four guys do one of my favorite Phish things, which is playing a jam that is 1) impossible for me to keep time to, 2) is utter sonic chaos, and 3) is somehow still fun more than anything else.

I'm not going to attempt to describe this section further. It lasts until 11:15, and it is awesome. Then, Trey starts chording a bit more, which causes Fishman to switch over to a beat that non-alien, human drummers can play. It's not that this next section isn't also weird, but at least it's recognizable as sounds from the planet Earth. In particular, the combination between Trey's high-pitched soloing and all the weird effects that Page (and Trey's looper) are throwing down starting at 12:20 is pretty amazing.

If your brain has been casting desperately around for something it can recognize as music for the last five to six minutes, at 13:05 Trey hits upon a repeating riff that feels like a lifeboat in the midst of the chaos...and this last until about 13:25 when somebody (Mike? Page?) hits on a particularly grungy tone and we become untethered from reality again. At least this is a bit more recognizable as rock and roll.

There's an enormous guitar peak shortly after if, you know, you're into that sort of thing.

I feel like they really embrace the "Let's make as much noise as possible" mentality around 16:00, as Trey starts looping peaks over peaks and everyone else helps drive the thing up and over the mountain. At 16:40, there's a (mostly) smooth transition back into the song's vocal refrain and we've landed from our journey through...oblivion? I mean, it feels a little on-the-nose, but also appropriate.

Next time, I'm going to write about how Trey wrote the best Beatles song of 2023 and then Phish jammed it out for thirteen minutes.

Then, I'll wrap up this mini Phish adventure with a (relatively) short blurb about how unreal the Gamehendge set from 12/31 was.

[dailyaudiobible]

10/21/2023 DAB Transcript pt1

Jeremiah 37:1-38:28, 1 Timothy 6:1-21, Psalm 89:38-52, Proverbs 25:28

Today is the 21st day of October, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, and here we are, closing down another week together. And in order to do that, we’ll read from the God's Word Translation, which is what we've read from this entire week. We’ll take another step forward in the book of Jeremiah and then we will conclude Paul's first letter to Timothy, and then we’ll begin Paul's second letter to Timothy, as we begin a new week tomorrow. But first, Jeremiah chapter 37 verse 1 through 38 verse 28 today.

Commentary:

Okay, let's talk about Jeremiah and let's talk about Proverbs. Okay, so where we find ourselves in the book of Jeremiah, the Babylonians have surrounded Jerusalem, right. And then so, there's a call to the Egyptian army who promises to come and help rescue Jerusalem, so the Babylonians back off. But things are heated. So, when the Babylonians back off, anyone who can get out, is getting out. Jeremiah has been held under house arrest and he's been ridiculed and marginalized all this time and he has bought this field in the land of the tribe of Benjamin and he’s just wanted to go there. And of course, because he has been prophesying, because he has been telling everyone, this city will fall to the Babylonians if we do not surrender. You can see why the guard wouldn't let Jeremiah leave because it looked like he was defecting to the Babylonians and that's what he was accused of, and that's what got him under house arrest, which eventually got him thrown into a well where he sank in the mud to die. And the whole ordeal of his rescue, right. So, things are tough inside the walls of Jerusalem. Hope is draining out quicker than the food that they have left, and there's all kinds of factions going on, right. Otherwise, why would Zedekiah, the king, need to have private unheard conversations with the prophet Jeremiah, that no one else can hear. And that the king is afraid for anyone else to hear. And he's asking Jeremiah, give it to me straight. Jeremiah's kind of like, I've been doing that for a long time. Jeremiah's prediction is if you surrender, if we all surrender to the Babylonians, then this city will stay standing and will not be burned down and nobody will lose their lives, and if we don't then the city will be burned down, and everyone will be taken away or lose their lives. Okay, just try to put yourself in that position because we’re like describing the situation where there is no clear right way to obey this prophetic utterance from Jeremiah, is to fly in the face of a lot of deep tradition and for that matter, national pride. And not everybody is on the same page. So, even though the king is having a conversation with Jeremiah, wanting to hear it once again and trying to work it out in his mind how this could happen, because if he tries to defect, he's worried that he's going get turned over to other people want to torture him. It's just a mess. So, if you put yourself in the position you can see, like there's no good way, even for the king, there's not a clear way for him to even obey the prophet. Everything is in turmoil. And when the walls come down, when the Babylonians break through, you can only imagine the mayhem.