#also the book cover is ai which makes this worst

[sarafangirlart]

Omg there’s a Danaë retelling let me check out the synopsis- oh…

[3liza]

thank you for speaking rational thought AS AN ARTIST into the ai debate. i get so tired of people over simplifying, generalizing, and parroting how they’ve been told ai works lmao. you’re an icon

some of the worst AI art alarmists are professional artists as well but theyre in very specific fields with very specific work cultures and it would take a long and boring post to explain all the nuance there but i went to the same extremely tiny, hypefocused classic atelier school in San Francisco as Karla Ortiz and am actually acquainted with her irl so i have a different perspective on this particular issue and the people involved than the average fan artist on tumblr. the latter person is also perfectly valid and so is their work, all im saying is that we have different life experiences and my particular one has accidentally placed me in a weird and relevant position to observe what the AI art panic is actually about.

first thing i did when the pearl-clutching about AI art started is go on the Midjourney discord, which is completely public and free, and spent a few burner accounts using free credits to play with the toolset. everyone who has any kind of opinion about AI art should do the same because otherwise you just wont know what youre talking about. my BIGGEST takeaway is that it is currently and likely always will be (because of factors that are sort of hard to explain) extremely difficult to make an AI like Midjourney spit out precisely wht you want UNLESS what you want is the exact kind of hyperreal, hyperpretty Artstation Front Page 4k HDR etc etc style pictures that, coincidentally, artists like Karla Ortiz have devoted their careers to. Midjourney could not, when asked, make a decent Problem Glyph. or even anything approaching one. and probably never will, because there isn't any profit incentive for it to do so and probably not enough images to train a dataset anyway.

the labor issues with AI are real, but they are the result of the managerial class using AI's existence as an excuse to reduce compensation for labor. this happens at every single technological sea change and is unstoppable, and the technology itself is always blamed because that is beneficial to the capitalists who are actually causing the labor crisis each time. if you talk to the artists who are ACTUALLY already being affected, they will tell you what's happening is managers are telling them to insert AI into workflows in ways that make no sense, and that management have fully started an industry-wide to "pivot" to AI production in ways that aren't going to work but WILL result in mass loss of jobs and productivty and introduce a lot of problems which people will then be hired to try to fix, but at greatly-reduced salaries. every script written and every picture generated by an AI, without human intervention/editing/cleanup, is mostly unusable for anything except a few very specific use cases that are very tolerant of generality. i'm seeing it being used for shovelware banner ads, for example, as well as for game assets like "i need some spooky paintings for the wall of a house environment" or "i need some nonspecific movie posters for a character's room" that indie game devs are making really good use of, people who can neither afford to hire an artist to make those assets and cant do them themselves, and if the ai art assets weren't available then that person would just not have those assets in the game at all. i've seen AI art in that context that works great for that purpose and isn't committing any labor crimes.

it is also being used for book covers by large publishing houses already, and it looks bad and resulted directly in the loss of a human job. it is both things. you can also pay your contractor for half as many man hours because he has a nailgun instead of just hammers. you can pay a huge pile of money to someone for an oil portrait or you can take a selfie with your phone. there arent that many oil painters around anymore.

but this is being ignored by people like the guy who just replied and yelled at me for the post they imagined that i wrote defending the impending robot war, who is just feeling very hysterical about existential threat and isn't going to read any posts or actually do any research about it. which is understandable but supremely unhelpful, primarily to themselves but also to me and every other fellow artist who has to pay rent.

one aspect of this that is both unequivocally True AND very mean to point out is that the madder an artist is about AI art, the more their work will resemble the pretty, heavily commercialized stuff the AIs are focused on imitating. the aforementioned Artstation frontpage. this is self-feeding loop of popular work is replicated by human artists because it sells and gets clicks, audience is sensitized to those precise aesthetics by constant exposure and demands more, AI trains on those pictures more than any others because there are more of those pictures and more URLs pointing back to those pictures and the AI learns to expect those shapes and colors and forms more often, mathematically, in its prediction models. i feel bad for these people having their style ganked by robots and they will not be the only victims but it is also true, and has always been true, that the ONLY way to avoid increasing competition in a creative field is to make yourself so difficult to imitate that no one can actually do it. you make a deal with the devil when you focus exclusively on market pleasing skills instead of taking the massive pay cut that comes with being more of a weirdo. theres no right answer to this, nor is either kind of artist better, more ideologically pure, or more talented. my parents wanted me to make safe, marketable, hotel lobby art and never go hungry, but im an idiot. no one could have predicted that my distaste for "hyperreal 4k f cup orc warrior waifu concept art depth of field bokeh national geographic award winning hd beautiful colorful" pictures would suddenly put me in a less precarious position than people who actually work for AAA studios filling beautiful concept art books with the same. i just went to a concept art school full of those people and interned at a AAA studio and spent years in AAA game journalism and decided i would rather rip ass so hard i exploded than try to compete in such an industry.

which brings me to what art AIs are actually "doing"--i'm going to be simple in a way that makes computer experts annoyed here, but to be descriptive about it, they are not "remixing" existing art or "copying" it or carrying around databases of your work and collaging it--they are using mathematical formulae to determine what is most likely to show up in pictures described by certain prompts and then manifesting that visually, based on what they have already seen. they work with the exact same very basic actions as a human observing a bunch of drawings and then trying out their own. this is why they have so much trouble with fingers, it's for the same reason children's drawings also often have more than 5 fingers: because once you start drawing fingers its hard to stop. this is because all fingers are mathematically likely to have another finger next to them. in fact most fingers have another finger on each side. Pinkies Georg, who lives on the end of your limb and only has one neighbor, is an outlier and Midjourney thinks he should not have been counted.

in fact a lot of the current failings by AI models in both visual art and writing are comparable to the behavior of human children in ways i find amusing. human children will also make up stories when asked questions, just to please the adult who asked. a robot is not a child and it does not have actual intentions, feelings or "thoughts" and im not saying they do. its just funny that an AI will make up a story to "Get out of trouble" the same way a 4 year old tends to. its funny that their anatomical errors are the same as the ones in a kindergarten classroom gallery wall. they are not people and should not be personified or thought of as sapient or having agency or intent, they do not.

anyway. TLDR when photography was invented it became MUCH cheaper and MUCH faster to get someone to take your portrait, and this resulted in various things happening that would appear foolish to be mad about in this year of our lord 2023 AD. and yet here we are. if it were me and it was about 1830 and i had spent 30 years learning to paint, i would probably start figuring out how to make wet plate process daguerreotypes too. because i live on earth in a technological capitalist society and there's nothing i can do about it and i like eating food indoors and if i im smart enough to learn how to oil paint i can certainly point a camera at someone for 5 minutes and then bathe the resulting exposure in mercury vapor. i know how to do multiple things at once. but thats me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[yuurei20]

Idia Facts Part 3: Family (pt3)

Idia says that the rule on the island is to return the living back to where they came from, alive, but this might only apply to those they kidnap rather than those who attack them: When Rook, Epel and the prefect appear, he tells them that, if anyone but himself had been in charge at the time, they’d be gone.

In addition to Tartarus and Cerberus, STYX also has the River Lethe: a system that can erase STYX from anyone’s memories, and from any data.

“There’s no point even thinking about making friends with people on the outside. After all…sooner or later, they wouldn’t remember it happened.”

At the end of Book 6 Ortho deletes the River Lethe’s configuration program, which Idia decides to leave to his parents to sort out, while he gets left with a group of classmates that remember everything that happened to them.

“And that’s…normal.”

In Book 7 Idia explains that due to a “tiny fraction” of what STYX does leaking to the public, the press has gone into a feeding frenzy to try and unearth their secrets.

We meet his parents in Book 7, with Idia’s father worrying that the worst may have happened to everyone on the island (“—including our boys…?”), but Idia’s mother says that she guarantees they are alive, based on “a mother’s hunch.”

His mother deduces that Idia has been using STYX communication satellites via access logs (“I’m sure he thought he covered his tracks, but he can’t fool his mom!”), saying, that she knows Idia would absolutely think he needed the internet to survive no matter what.

There is a vague reference to trouble that Aidne Shroud, Idia’s grandmother, had in the past with Briar Valley.

Idia’s mother seems to have great faith in Idia’s abilities: when debating how they will approach the Malleus-controlled Sage’s island with the insufficient AI in STYX power armor she says, “if only (Idia) were here!” (Idia’s mother refers to him as Onii-chan/Ide-kun on JP and “Idy” on EN.” Shroud Family dynamics explained here.)

Ortho asks their mother to craft him a set of gear that can survive Malleus’ spell, which she does by using a copy of Ortho’s schematics on one of Idia’s computers.

Ortho exclaims, “You actually got through Idia’s super-ultra-ironclad security program!?” and she assures him that she didn’t look into any of his password-protected folders.

[soulsxng]

Rules, tag 10 followers  you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @sansloii​​ Tagging: steal it from me!

Name: Aya, Riah, Rai-rai. I noticed there's a lot of people that pronounce Aya like...(the letter) A-yah, but it's actually Ai-yah. Riah is Rai-ah.

Star Sign: Sagittarius sun, Libra moon, Cancer rising!

Height: 5'9" (I shrank a little, weh.)

Middle name: It's a secret c: I'll just say that it's a super common one.

Put your itunes/spotify/youtube on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up? (*puts the bigass master youtube playlist on shuffle and shrugs tbh*)

Mon.ster H.unter: World - V.aal Ha.zak theme (FalKKonE metal arrange)

La La Latch (Pentatonix)

The Reverberation Ensemble (StudioEIM)

Requiem (Chogakusei cover)

Kisaragi Station (nqrse)

Put Your Records On (Corinne Bailey Rae)

Ever had a poem or song written about you: I have, a few times! When we were still in elementary school, my little bro wrote a poem about me for class. And then I had a group of friends write a song about me when I was in high school (I had been dealing with The Big C at the time and was in the hospital, and they wrote it to cheer me up. It made me cry orz)

When was the last time you played air guitar: I'm more of a random dancing/wiggling randomly when music is playing type. Oh! Actually, it was a few weeks ago, because I was messing with my little sister while I was visiting her at work. That was an air banjo though, from an inside joke I have with my siblings.

Who is your celebrity crush?: I don't think I have one? That feels like a cop out though, so I'll say that I'm a big fan of Ol.an Ro.gers? He's hilarious. Me, my wife, and a few of our friends got to meet him last year actually, and it was a lot of fun!

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: FUCKIN-- okay so there's a lot of bad sounds out there, but one that has been a pet peeve of mine for a long time? People chewing with their mouth open, or sucking on their teeth a lot. OH, ALSO SUPER HIGH PITCHED NOISES. Like when movies and stuff play that like...tinnitus noise sometimes?

As for a sound I like, uh...it's sort of hard to explain, but sometimes when you hear people singing a harmony, if the voices line up perfectly, you can naturally hear what's called an overtone. I might have to look for a video or something, but essentially, you can hear a pitch the next octave up from one of the harmonized notes even though nobody is singing it. It's super cool, and gives me goosebumps every time. It occurs in instrumental harmonies too, iirc?

Do you believe in ghosts?: Kinda? I guess it depends on the circumstance.

How about aliens: I mean, yeah. I think it's scarier to believe that we're the only planet out there with intelligent life and whatnot on it, than to believe that there's others out there that we just haven't encountered, yet. Also, the odds of that are just astronomically low anyway.

Do you drive?: I do! Where I live, it'd be kind of impossible to not have either me or Kei able to do so. Plus I just enjoy it overall, most of the time.

if so have you ever crashed: Nope! I've been driving for like 13 years now (started a little before I turned 15, shhh), and haven't had any accidents.

What was the last book you read?: Uhhh I think it was MDZS book...5? Whichever one just released earlier this month. Otherwise, it was The Starless Crown.

Do you like the smell of gasoline: Diesal, nah. It makes me gag. Regular gas...eh. I'm indifferent to it. Unless it's rancid gasoline, in which case, it also makes me gag.

What was the last movie you saw?: ...I think it was the D&D movie? I'm gonna be honest, I watch very little tv, and very few movies.

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: I guess it would be from when I was in like 9th grade? I was sledding with some friends, and we were at this massive hill, having fun and being stupid. It was fine, but there was part of the hill that the snow plows liked to push snow from the parking lot into. So there was a big snow pile off to the side, and because I'm in a state known for the bitter cold, these piles might as well have been-- as I referred to them when I was a teenager-- small glaciers lmao.

Anyway, random fun fact, but the average sled speed on a decently sized hill is like 20mph. (can't remember where I learned that though so don't quote me on it) This hill was especially steep, so I want to say that I was going even faster than that, I got bumped into by one of my friends about 3/4ths of the way down, and slammed into the of one of these frozen slowplow piles full force before I could stop myself or roll off the sled. I hit the entire right side of my body, but mostly my thigh.

The resulting bruise was so severe (It was a bone-deep bruise over most of it. The doctor that saw me afterwards thought I had been in a car crash!), that if you were to touch my right thigh even now, you can still feel the muscular scarring it left. Yeah though, it's from like...just a little above my knee, to just below my hip.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: Probably Eld.en R.ing. I've been on and off of obsession with that since it came out, and obviously rn is one of those "on" periods! Singing is always an obsession of mine, same with dog stuff (specifically training/behavior/health related stuff), aaaand...worldbuilding stuff. Like the deep, almost scientific worldbuilding stuff that I probably won't have any reason to share with anyone else, but will randomly babble at Kei about while she's captive in my car and my mind has clung to one idea in particular.

[dowdonacloud]

The Depression Manual

I am guessing I’m like many of you in that I have too much faith in the internet. Faith and lack of motivation that is. I google something, scan the AI explanation and browse the first 5 articles that the search engines deems worthy.  

I google depression a lot. I do this to verify that yes, the last 30 years are correct and my symptoms match. I also look to see if my diagnosis might be more severe and have been afraid that I have any number of personality disorders which I guess makes me neurotic since hypochondria is a type of neuroticism. I am not interested in this new coded way of calling women crazy- ahem neurotic. But here, I digress.

I rest assured that I am like many others and seek more information and in my case always looking for more accurate language to wrap around my experience as someone with recurrent depressive episodes. What I’ve determined is that the info on depression- the detailed info, from the point of view of people who have lived it- is hard to come by.  Instead, we get the health briefs from mayo clinic and NIH about the symptoms of depression and of course the hotline. The symptoms including feelings of sadness and hopelessness, loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed, fatigue/ low energy, sleep disturbances, difficulty concentrating, remembering details and making decisions, physical symptoms like headaches and chronic pain and thoughts of suicide.  A list. Not an article on anything beyond the list besides the mention at the end of the gold star standard treatment of SSRIs and cognitive behavior therapy. On my most recent search I saw an article that contained the regurgitated list and then emphasized self-care for the support person. We beg of you, take cover- I mean, take care of yourself when you are around the depressed person. Let them rot. They are rotting anyway.  These articles aren’t helpful to people who are experiencing the difficulty of not knowing what to do when their person is depressed.

My mom was very good about knowing how to interact with me, handle me during my depressive episodes. She wasn’t always good at it. When the episdoes first showed up in my mid-teens I didn’t know what to do about my personality slipping through my fingers, which is what it always feels like. She didn’t know what to do either and there was a lot of conflict. I wanted out from under the microscope and she wanted me to be OK. Worst. Episode. Ever.

I lost my mom two years ago to uterine cancer treatment complications. She was 73 and had lived a very healthy life. Never smoked cigarettes, drank only the occasional wine or beer, ate food prepared at home. She not only took good care of her body, she also took good care of her mind. She was extremely well read and had a wide array of references across subject matters. Sometimes I would find books in her nightstand stack about mental health. This was a semi-snoop on my part, trying to find out what she was finding out about me. Some of the books were hidden under clothes in her closet. This was a full-on total snoop. These books should be differentiated  from the books she would strategically place in my environment, knowing that I would be more likely to listen to the wisdom of a stranger than my mother. My favorite strategically placed book was titled “Caffeine: the Gateway Drug”.  That was strategically placed around the house after I got in trouble for taking a bunch of Nodoz at an overnight retreat freshman year. In my defense, these retreats were in the context of catholic school so they were dripping with prayer and reflections involving God’s plan.  I think I would have been manic at these retreats anyway.

I only started appreciating her approach when I was older and noticed changes in how she would communicate with me. 

I always feel the void of her absence. I especially feel it when I am struggling and wading through a depressive episode. I get lightning storms in my head when my partner or friends don’t demonstrate the same understanding of how to deal with a depressed person- which I know, is completely unfair. I have been wondering if it’d be worth it to write some sort of depression manual.

I am scared of being overly self-indulgent but in the interest of getting more articles out there from the point of view of someone who lives through depressive episodes, I’d like to contribute. I personally would like to read more articles from people who live with this pesky, devastating, debilitating disorder. 

My Depression Manual

1-AVOID THE MICROSCOPE

 Try not to throw a celebration when I say something little I did in a day that demonstrates “opposite action”, like running on the treadmill or leaving the house. It seems like this would be a nice thing to do but it actually feels condescending and reinforces the invalid state I’ve descended into. I would rather you wait a week or two and then you could say something like “I think it’s really impressive how much you’ve been running on the treadmill.” That would make me feel less like I’m under a microscope or like my loved ones are trying hard to find something positive to say. When I’m doing something that a normal, healthy person would do, like if I fell asleep easily or slept 8 hours, I’d like to have others react as if I’m a normal, healthy person, instead of drawing attention to the fact that the normal, healthy thing is abnormal for me. The pointing out reminds me that I’m different/struggling/ etc

2- THE VULNERABILITY LADDER.

I will share.  I share things.  I am vomiting my feelings and disorganized thoughts all the time.  I get embarrassed at the level of sharing especially when I feel like it’s one sided. So, you need to share too. If you share, then you don’t need to ask as many questions (ugh, too many questions are so irritating) because your sharing invites me to share.  Creating space for me involves a mutual level of vulnerability and trust. Often I share more when the other person puts some vulnerability on the table or if you want to keep it about how my reactions/ emotional states are affecting you, say something about how you have tried X but it doesn’t seem to be working. I often feel stagnant emotional states stir when I feel like someone else needs help or needs me to show up for them.

3- STOP EXPECTING MY BRAIN TO WORK IN THE SAME WAY

Depression interferes with my processing time, verbal speed and executive function. I get exhausted by socializing more easily, this includes phone time. I am working on using phrases that are kind and reflective instead of reactionary to end conversations. For now it might sound something like, “I need to get off the phone” or “I have to go”.  It’s hard not to take it personally but it’s not personal, it’s my capacity reaching overwhelm.  Often I try to hang in there and harangue myself when I don’t feel like I can hang in for long.  When I press myself to stay longer than I’m able it results in clipped, terse responses and acting in a way I don’t want to be, followed by guilt after the interaction due to the way I came across.

4- STOP EXPECTING ME TO BE BRIGHT AND SHINY

I’m sure you’ve heard of masking. We all mask to some extent and mask more during certain periods than others. And yes, of course I’m a little over the trendy mental health term of the past few years: authenticity, but it’s true. Having the ability to show up more authentically allows me to show up at all. If I can be lackluster, smile less, be less talkative, that’s the depression. I feel enormous pressure to somehow put it away and be the person that people know and like- and this leads me to not want to show up at all which leads me to my next point.

5-ISOLATION IS CAUSED BY OVERWHELM

One of my friends ( who has experienced major depression too) said to me that he is happy to come over and not talk, to sit and watch TV or just be in proximity, with no expectations from me. That was some magic my mom would provide- companionship that was gentle and different from the companionship that is possible when I’m not stuck. The isolation thing is something I see listed frequently- posed as advice to the depressed person as something not to do. Don’t isolate, get out, be around people. That is fine advice but it doesn’t deconstruct the why of isolation. Depressed people isolate because socializing is overwhelming, environments outside the home can be overstimulating, overstimulating environments combined with the pressure of socializing is too much. Despite that technically I may not be doing much, I still desire the slowness of being in my home environment.  When I take the instagram psychobabble advice of not isolating and just getting out there I am incredibly self conscious about point #3- that my brain, my words just don’t work in the same way.

6-CONVERSATIONS CAN BE DIFFICULT, SMALL TALK IS TORTURE- I know what you are thinking, small talk is always torture. But I mean really, beyond my brain processing slower with jumbled, disorganized, dark thoughts it’s so hard to work around the typical small talk questions. If we were to play this out with our favorite word to love and hate, authenticity this is what the small talk conversation might look like

Scene featuring: Non-depressed person aka the lucky bastard (LB)

Depressed person (DP)

LB calls DP on the phone because they are kind and supportive and this is a nice thing to do. 

DP stares at phone, feels panic, wants to ignore the call because they are not sure if they have enough energy in their body to speak but doesn’t want to be avoidant, doesn’t want to harm the relationship more than they fear they already have. DP picks up phone

LB: hi! What’s up?

DP: Not much, how are you? 

LB: Oh I’m just heading home from work, it was a really busy day but Carol brought in Schlotsky’s for lunch so that was nice I overslept because I was having the best dream so I think I got over 9 hours of sleep.  How are you?

DP: totally empty inside

LB: aw man, I’m sorry. That sucks. What did you do today?

DP: I woke up after a total of 4 hours of interrupted sleep throughout the night. I laid in bed for an hour contemplating the reason for my existence. My dog needed to be fed so I got up to feed him. I chain smoked 4 cigarettes and had coffee hoping that dosing myself with anxiety would be a sort of energy I could work with. I cried for 30 minutes. I stared at a picture of my mom for a while. I went to the bathroom and tried to convince myself to get in the shower but getting wet has been hurting my skin and making me panic lately so I didn’t. I went to do my TMS treatment and worried that I smelled bad. I came home and sat on the couch and literally stared at the wall for 40 minutes. I tried not to get back in bed but I was so tired that I got back in bed. I rewatched a show that I’ve seen a million times. I looked on instagram and thought about how different I was from people who actually do things. I cried again for a while. I remembered that I had clothes in the washing machine from yesterday morning that smelled musty so I rewashed them. 

LB:Well….that’s a lot of stuff at least. Are you feeling any better than yesterday?

DP: No. I feel the same as I’ve felt for a week which is worse than how bad I was feeling last week which is worse than how I was feeling the week prior to that. 

LB: Can I help in some way?

DP: I don’t really have the neural resources to figure out ways to help you feel like you are helping me. You could come over and sit with me and not touch me and just be in my environment.

LB: Oh I wish I could but I have to pick up the kids and head to their softball game. Another time though. I love you.

DP: Ok. Thank you. I need to get off the phone now. I feel exhausted from this conversation. I hope you don’t hate me because I am a terrible downer. 

LB: I don’t hate you. You’ll feel better soon. Hang in there.

DP: Ok. I will hang in there. Hopefully not literally. I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.

I don’t have anything to share about my day- on the bad days.  I can listen to your day but I’d appreciate acceptance when I say I don’t have much to share. Also would appreciate being able to answer the phone and not feel pressured to “turn it on” and make animated small talk. I’m not going to be as talkative, it’s not personal, it’s just part of it.  I don’t want it called out or told that I’m “not being nice” because I’m not being talkative. Being nice and being talkative are not mutually exclusive, like, at all. Think about that for a second. 

7-RESIST THE TEMPTATION TO GET CLINICAL- I have a team of mental health professionals. I don’t need another one. I don’t need you to suggest various diagnoses, medications, therapy methods or adding magnesium supplements to treat my depression. I have dealt with this for decades, have explored so many paths, there isn’t much you can suggest to me that I haven’t tried. I get offended when people start suggesting things to add into my treatment plan. I need loved ones, not more doctors and therapists.

8- UNDERSTAND THAT EVERYTHING IS EFFORTFUL

And this is just the way it is. Until the clouds start to part and I can have my personality back.

9- I KNOW I WAS A SNOT EARLIER ABOUT SELF-CARE BUT IT IS IMPORTANT, YOU SHOULD DO IT

Take breaks. Do what you need to do to refuel. I feel a ton of guilt about subjecting people to me when I am under water.

[carica-ficus]

I've watched the infamous hbomberguy video about plagiarism the other day and cannot stop thinking about "content mills" (and consumerism) and its integration in the book community.

I have a bookstagram account because the community there is much more active (and most of my reading/writing friends use it as their primary social site), but it is filled to the brim with so much stupid and uninteresting content. Moreover, I'd say that the Croatian bookstagram community is even worse than the bookstagram community as a whole.

I'm lucky to have really cool mutuals on there that don't follow trends or don't feel the need to play influencers, but so many people do. I unfollowed at least 15 profiles yesterday because I couldn't take it anymore. None of their posts showed any love for reading and so much of their content is sponsored.

Worst of all is they're not even advertising for the author or their work, it's just for the publisher, which makes no fucking sense, in my humble opinion. Since when are books about congratulating a specific publisher on deciding to publish a book, and not for the author or their painstaking and beautiful work?

Not to mention, I rarely see Croatian publishers actually publishing Croatian authors! The biggest publishers only ever translate internationally popular works. And yes, I do realize why that's the case (there's barely any money in this industry and most of our publishers would perish if it weren't for the profit coming from translations), but for fucks sake, if you're advertising for yourself, at least throw in a few of our own authors. At least make our bookstagramers support their own community, the community without which they wouldn't even exist!

And you know what's the worst of the worst? The constant fake amazement in all those countless sponsored reviews, for books barely any of them even read! They call themselves creative, but most of their content wouldn't even exist without the creative work of others. All those giveaways, AI generated pictures, thousands upon thousands of advertisements for publishers only looking for profit, posting content just to post something, promotions for books which barely even hit the shelves, and the never-ending drama of who copies whom in a community where no one is original.

Yes, I know ads also provide a profit for editors, translators, authors, illustrators and everyone else involved in the publishing industry, but I ask you another thing: Why are these people never mentioned in the posts then? Why are they not given any credit? Because it's hard or because, to them - the publishers and to influencers - it doesn't matter? Why do our publishers print translated works with AI covers? Why do we translate and print new editions of old, popular, international works, instead of giving our own writers a chance? Why do some publishers chose to use an AI generated cover instead of hiring a local artist? How much profit do writers, artists, editors and translators really achieve compared to the publishers?

"Oh, but you don't understand. The industry would collapse if we did it differently."

Yeah, because money is the most important thing when it comes to publishing books. It isn't about the author. It isn't about supporting creative endeavors. It isn't about supporting the local community. It isn't about the story and its idea. Yeah, you're right. None of that matters. Because reading is about consumption and about making money.

Spare me.

Let it collapse then. Maybe we don't deserve all the people brave enough to share their work with millions of people who don't even care about them.

In hindsight, maybe I'm bitter because I spend a lot of time surrounded by the truly creative community - writers, illustrators, photographers and all other forms of artists, so I'm angry they're looked over in the community that should praise them. Or maybe I'm just fed up with all the dishonesty and advertisement these co-called influencers push for a few free books. You decide. I'm just saying that I'm tired of it.

[capesandshapes]

I'm literally so pissed about this because I have to write an apology letter to my newsletter subscribers and readers for encouraging them to engage with an author who ended up running a publishing pyramid scheme, and pushing her books along to them despite the fact that I disliked them to the point I refused to review them (because it was going to be two to three stars) and kept tossing them in with other far more readable books

Solely because she was nice and I assumed she was dumb

Like surprise she's not dumb she's running a literal pyramid scheme and having people pay her for ads only to pocket like 95% of the money to shill for her own books

AND THEYRE SO BAD?????

HER BOOKS ARE LIKE THE WORST BOOKS OH MY GOD

Not even like content wise just like

SO POORLY WRITTEN

(also her company's editing service is her going through with prowritingaid and when she feels too lazy to go through your book with prowritingaid, which is supposedly a service worth so much (paired with ai covers generated from a 100 dollar a month subscription that lets her make unlimited covers) that her company pockets 70% of the 70% royalties that Amazon gives you, she hires people off of fiver at rock bottom rates to comb through with prowritingaid for her instead ☠️)

Actually full on can someone sedate me because I really want to give tea on the publishing scene, the new digital led 'traditional' publisher trend and the amount of people on Twitter claiming to be literary agents who string along authors for the attention and furthering of the agent's own potential publishing career while having no idea of how an agent works.

And of course fucking author coaches like Elise Kova who has always approached publishing with a business mindset and is widely believed to have, like Frost Kay, commissioned ghost written and generative work to pad her catalogue.

Like if I have a nickel for every time a romantasy author publishing openly marketed avatar the last Airbender fanfiction engaged in bad faith business practices and banked on the trust and goodwill on others, I'd have two nickles

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[boldlyvoid]

Freezer Burns | Chapter 7

Chapter Seven | Masterlist 18+ Chapter

Summary: Mean girl Steve makes a comeback

Warnings: implied/referenced rape (past), Angst with a happy ending, Eddie moves in with Grandma Beth, Steve has a panic attack, First Fights, Toxic reactions, suicidal ideation,

Word Count: 3.8k

He tells Grandma Beth everything through heaving breaths and teary eyes, still hardly able to believe it all himself. She rubs his back and wipes his tears, whispering that she’s sorry and she’s there for him as long as he needs her because she loves him. 

“But what do I do?” He whispers. “I can’t tell Steve but I also can’t keep it a secret, and I sure as hell can’t tell Dustin 'cause the little twerp will try and talk to Dick who doesn’t want anything to do with him and that’ll fuck him up even more,” he panics as he thinks about all the possible outcomes.

And none of them seemed good. 

“They should know. They both have the right to know and they’ll probably figure it out at some point and if you don’t tell them it’s going to eat you alive,” she reads him like a book. “If I suggest that you have them come here for dinner and tell them together at the same time, are you going to be able to talk to Steve until then?” 

“No,” he sighs. “I don’t even know how I’m going to be able to look at him tonight after work… god, of all the days for this to happen it really had to be right after we f— I’m sorry.” 

“No, no,” she bites back a smile, “it’s fine, you’re adults. But that’s life isn’t it… the worst things always happen when you’re least expecting it.” 

“We were so happy this morning,” he tears up again, leaning back in his chair and covering his face in his hands. “I can’t believe he ruined this for me.” 

“Nothing is ruined, love,” she assures him. “We just need a plan… I can move some things around downstairs and you can have Gareth’s dad’s old room and I’ll take you to get the rest of your things after Wayne leaves for work. You can tell Steve when you’re ready, I’ll call Claudia and see if we can talk and get a bigger picture because at the end of the day, this was a secret for Dustin's sake and we need to consider what unravelling this can do to him.” 

“God, you’re right,” he groans. “Their dad is so terrible.”

“But Steve ended up wonderful and Dustin is a sweetheart, they will have each other still, which I think they’ll value more than having a dad,” she explains. “Look at Robin and Gareth, I raised their parents and they’re the meanest, cruellest, coldhearted bastards there are. They don’t need a good mom and dad, they have each other, and they have me, Dustin and Steve will be the same.” 

He fully believes her, she’s never wrong, her optimism is so powerful it swings the balance of things and works in her favour. 

“And me,” he whispers, “you’ve got me too… right?” 

“Always,” she wraps him up in another hug, kissing his head gently. 

—

Steve and Robin come home to an empty kitchen, grandma beth was busy all day so there are leftovers in the fridge. Eddie isn’t in the garage, the guys haven’t seen him all day, he never came into Scoops for a treat or a kiss or anything, he’s just disappeared since Steve saw him this morning. The weirdest part, however, his van is parked outside. 

Steve asks Gareth if he’s seen him, but he hasn’t. Robins had been with him all day so she wouldn’t know where Eddie is. Grandma Beth is in bed after her long day, so he can’t go bother her and see if she knows. 

He uses the kitchen phone to call Eddie’s trailer, but there’s no answer. He calls mike, Mr. Wheeler says she hasn’t seen Eddie at all either. It bothers him deeply that he doesn’t know where Eddie is, to the point where he gets his shoes on and heads outside to peek into the windows of his van for clues. 

He’s not in there either. 

He doesn’t even say goodbye to Robin, he just gets in his car and drives to the trailer to see if maybe he got a flat at Gareth’s and walked home for the night… which would be even fucking weirder than him just disappearing into thin air like this. 

All the lights at his trailer are off, so he could be asleep? Steve knocks on the door, “Eddie? Eddie are you in there?” 

There isn’t a single answer. The trailer park is quiet, the sky’s a bright purple from the sun had barely set, the crickets are loud in the bush, and it’s silent in the worst way possible. 

He walks back to his car and opens the glove box to retrieve a flashlight, returning to the side of the trailer where Eddie’s room is. He stands on his tip-toes, shining the light into the room to see it’s completely different from what it was like yesterday morning. The walls are bare, his things are gone, the bed is made… it’s not his anymore. 

He backs away in fear, staring at the trailer like he pulled up to the wrong one but he didn’t. He knew this was Eddie’s trailer the last time he was here so why is it suddenly empty now? Did he dream up the last few weeks? Was this all happening in his mind cause he’s been in a coma this whole time? He spins in circles, unable to catch his breath, panicking about where the love of his life is. 

He gets back in his car quickly and drives back to his own house, the front door was locked, the back gate is still latched, and no one was there… He really hoped Eddie was just waiting at his parent's house for him so they could pick up where they left off but he isn’t. 

He drives downtown, and none of the people walking the streets are Eddie. He parks out front of the police station and it takes him a good 10 minutes to have the nerve to even just go in and look around just for the slight chance that he was arrested or something… but they haven’t seen him. They call the hospital too, he hasn’t been admitted and there are no John Doe’s matching his description either. And no one died today, no bodies were found. It was a quiet night in Hawkins...

He grips the steering wheel like his life depends on it the whole way home, breathing deep in and out of his nose to stay calm or else he’d start screaming. This wasn’t like him, he was always around and now he was fo where to be found. 

He bangs on the garage door until Gareth opens up in just his boxers, scars on display and hair messy, “what the fuck, man?” 

“Eddie’s room is empty,” the words rush out. “I’ve been looking everywhere for him, but I can’t find him.” 

“What?” He rubs his eyes and shakes his head, “what do you mean his room is empty?” 

“It’s completely clean and not a single poster is on the walls anymore, it’s like he moved out?” Steve explains further. “But his van is here,” he points out at the driveway. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” 

He shakes his head, “not since the party… me and Jeff were at work from 10 til 6, the van was here when we got home but my grandma never said he was over?” 

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” he grips his chest dramatically, finding his balance as he leans against the wall. “Oh my god?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gareth reaches out for him, rubbing his arms to soothe him and pull him inside. “We’ll go ask my grandma, she said we can wake her up for any issue. This is an issue.” 

“Okay,” Steve agrees, following him inside the garage to see Jeff sitting up in bed, one eye open as Gareth flicks the lights on. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Eddie’s missing,” Steve announces waking him right up. 

“Seriously?” He gets out of bed and quickly throws his clothes on, Gareth does the same. “Are you sure he’s not just here somewhere?” 

“Where? There are 2 bedrooms and they’re taken and the kitchen and living room are empty, and he’s not in here?” Steve points around. 

“Well, my dad used to have a room in the basement,” Gareth remembers, “it’s full of Christmas decorations though…” 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s the door opposite that one,” he points at the garage door that leads to the house, not the one that leads outside. 

Steve rushes through the door and then rips open the other one, he flicks on the light and runs down the old wooden steps, “Eddie?!” 

“Huh?” He sits up on the bed, hair a mess, face pussy and swollen, “Steve?” 

“What the fuck?” Steve loses it then.

“Hm?” He’s still out of it, the room smells like weed and his eyes are still bloodshot, he hasn’t been asleep for long. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you? What the fuck is going on?” He talks with his hands, big and expressive and emotional. “I thought maybe you ran away or hurt yourself or got arrested? I was checking everywhere, the police station, the hospital, the morgue, what the fuck?” 

“I’m sorry,” he cowers at the sound of Steve’s voice. He’s so mad, even if it’s coming from a place of concern, he doesn’t like it. 

Steve notices that and drops his tone back down. “Did sleeping together freak you out or something?” Steve tries not to yell but he’s been building this up for hours. 

Eddie just shakes his head, unable to speak. 

“You said you wouldn’t do this to me? What did I—”

“It’s not you,” Eddie tries to keep his own voice down too as he cuts him off. “I got in a big fight with Wayne about you today and he kicked me out, I didn’t want to go to the kitchen, I don’t want this to be real, I just wanted to sleep,” he cries. “I’m so tired… I’m sorry, Steve.” 

“Oh, baby,” Steve gets into the bed with him and holds him tight. 

Just then, Jeff and Gareth run down the stairs and look around at all eddies things set up. “What the fuck? Did you move in?” 

He nods against Steve, unable to pull his head away from the crook of his neck. “Yeah,” he cries harder. 

Steve turns to them, all 3 with the same matching sympathetic look. They’ve never seen him break down like this before and it’s weird. He was always the strong one for them, they didn’t know he could even break down like this, his voice almost gone from how hard he cried. 

“I’ve got it,” Steve tells them carefully, letting them know it’s okay to head back up the stairs and to bed. So they leave quietly while Eddie keeps crying against him. 

“You can tell me what happened when you want to?” Steve whispers into his hair before kissing the top of his head. 

“No… I don’t know how.” 

“But it was about me?” He worries, thinking their relationship made him homeless. “He hates me doesn’t he?” 

He nods, “your dad fucked his girlfriend… he can’t handle the thought of you actually being a good person.” 

“I fucking hate him,” Steve announces, “my dad that is. I’ve always hated him but this is the icing on the cake. I’ll change my last fucking name if I have to, seriously, I am not like him at all and if I have to go yell at Wayne myself to prove it I fucking will.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie shakes it off. 

“Is it?” Steve doesn’t believe him, “cause the way you were just crying has me fucking terrified, Eds.”

“I want to tell you everything,” he whispers, pulling away slowly and wiping his eyes. “But I don’t want to ruin your life either.”

“You won’t,” he places his hand under eddies chin and directs his eyes up at him. “You can’t ruin my life. As long as you’re in it, it’s perfect.” 

Eddie looks so panicked, truly scared by what he knows. “It’s going to ruin your life, Steve. But knowing the truth is killing me.” 

“So tell me.” Steve doesn’t blink, he moves in closer, staring Eddie down. “Do it. Tell me.” 

“You have a half-brother,” he whispers. 

“I know—

“But I know who he is,” Eddie cuts him off, wagging his finger back and forth between them. “We know who he is.”  

“What?” Steve backs up a little then, brain running a mile a minute to try and comprehend everything. 

“Your dad fucked Wayne's girlfriend and got her knocked up and that’s why he hates him. He paid her off, he didn’t want anything to do with the kid and Wayne’s been jealous ever since,” he explains. “I think 'cause he wanted to have kids with Claudia…”

Steve can’t place the name but he’s heard it before, he knows someone named Claudia, he’s sure of it. 

“He moved here in grade 4,” Eddie continues to drop hints. “He’s in mikes grade now…”

Steve laughs as it all hits him like a freight train, “no. you’re kidding. Your uncle is yanking my chain, he’s just trying to start shit between us because of my dad. He’s doing this on purpose, we don’t know who it is. He’s lying.” 

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, completely sincere. “I’m completely serious… Wayne wanted to be a dad and your dad stole that from him.” 

“With who?” 

“Claudia Henderson.” 

He laughs again, truly shocked and scared at the same time, “no… no you’re literally joking. This is a prank. You’re high or something,” he gets up off the bed, standing at the foot and shaking his head and both hands, “no. I don’t fucking believe you.” 

“Dustin doesn’t know his dad,” Eddie reminds him. “Claudia has a lot of money and doesn’t work anymore and your dad started hating you more when you brought Dustin home the first time, didn’t he?” 

Eddie knew more than anyone about just how fucking evil Steve’s dad was to him growing up, even more so in the last 2 years. 

“You're an asshole, you can’t use that against me in this. That’s not why he hates me, you’re so fucking gullible if you think that Wayne was being honest,” Steve shakes his head with regret and confusion, getting meaner as he gets more upset. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me again. It’s over.” 

“Steve,” Eddie reaches out for him but he’s gone too soon. Turning away and running up the stairs, he slams the basement door before Eddie even starts to get off the bed. 

Eddie runs upstairs, catching the door before Steve can slam it too and chases him into the yard, barefoot. “Steve! Are you being fucking serious right now? Do you really think I’d lie about this?” 

“I don’t know what you’d do, I barely know you!” He fights back. 

“No! I got kicked out of my fucking house for you, you can’t do this to me! You literally asked to know!” He yells back, crying. 

Steve grabs his keys from his pocket and starts to unlock his door, he reefs the door open only for Eddie to slam it shut and hold it closed. “Look at me, Steve. Fuckin' look at me!” 

He turns to him with his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. 

“Steve, don’t do this to me. I can’t lose you too, I can’t do this anymore,” he keeps crying. “I can’t keep losing everyone I love, I will kill myself.” 

“No you won’t,” Steve snaps out of it then. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Dramatic isn’t it?” He snaps back. “Now you know how I feel. You can’t just break up with me instead of talking to me.” 

He lets out a huff of air, “fine. Yeah, it was dramatic. But how the fuck else am I supposed to react to that?” 

“I got kicked out, how do you think I reacted?” He raises his brows, knowing he’s right. “He told me to never let you near Dustin and I told him that controlling me made him just as bad as Dick fucking Harrington.” 

“Ouch,” Steve agrees. “That’s my worst fear.” 

“Which I tried to tell him,” Eddie adds. “Believe me, I tried, I really wanted him to like you but this whole thing has him all fucked up… I just can’t believe he did that.” 

Steve carefully reaches out for him and Eddie see’s it on his face, he wants a hug. They lunge for each other, hugging so tight they can barely breathe, “I’m sorry,” they whisper at the same time and then laugh at how stupid they feel for blowing up like that. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Eddie adds, “the killing myself part, I just wanted to be as dramatic, I really wouldn’t leave you like that or blame it on you if I did…” 

“I don’t want to break up,” Steve accepts it by apologizing himself. “I love you too much.” 

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers. 

He settles then, still overwhelmed and emotional. He was so scared for him and then he was horrified and hurt and anxious all at the same time. It was more than he felt fighting literal monsters last year.

“Come back inside?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly. 

Thats when Steve sees that he’s barefoot. 

“Oh my god, yes, you’re going to freeze out here,” he worries, rushing them inside and all but pushing Eddie through the front door. 

They settle back down in the basement, he looks around Eddie’s new room with a smile, “this is nice, how come I didn’t know there was a basement?” 

He shrugs, “it was a mess before me and Beth tackled it today… she drove with me to the trailer after Wayne left for work and she helped me pack my things and set it all up.” 

“She’s the best,” Steve smiles. “Does she know?” 

He nods, “she’s going to see Claudia tomorrow and ask her for the full picture… we all need to think about Dustin and how it was a secret to protect him.” 

He nods with a deep sigh, “if we do tell him, I need to warn him that our dad isn’t a good guy… he’s been dreaming about having a dad and siblings and a real family his whole life, my dad isn’t that. He’s a monster.” 

“He already sees you like a father,” Eddie says it likes it nothing, folding the sheets on his bed back and getting back under the covers. He leaves space for Steve, patting the bed for him to come over. 

“You think?” He asks, toeing off his shoes and removing his pants next. He gets in with just his boxers and t-shirt on, cuddling into Eddie right away.

“I know,” he smiles, holding him close. “When he finds out it’s going to be the coolest thing in the world for him.” 

“It’s weird that I can actually picture Wayne and Claudia together,” Steve explains. “She’s so much like Dustin and Wayne’s so much like you, they’d get along so well…” 

“He didn’t go into details but I don’t think she was fully there when she got pregnant,” he admits. “It was a work trip, she was his secretary and Wayne said she was drunk…” 

“God,” he presses his head against Eddie’s chest. “Fuck, he would, too. Of fucking course he’s worse than I imagined.” 

Eddie rubs his back gently, “you’re nothing like him. You could never even dream of being like him… you were just placed here by something more powerful who knew you’d be able to change the world.” 

“Funny,” he shrugs it off, still not able to take compliments. “I don’t feel like a hero.” 

“From what I’ve heard, you kept all those little brats alive during the end of the world, that makes you a hero,” Eddie brags. “And you’re my hero…”

“I would’ve killed someone trying to find you,” he admits. “I’m so sorry I almost ruined this… I’m just so used to yelling and running away.” 

“I get it,” he keeps rubbing Steve’s back. “I uh… I’m sorry for saying what I did, too, I mean, really… I’ve had such a hard fucking day and all I can think is it would hurt less if I died too…”

“Eddie, baby,” he sounds so broken when he says it. Sitting up and pulling him up too, he cups eddies face and looks at him. “It hurts right now, I’ll hurt a little next week, and then it won’t hurt… and we’ll get back to good days like we had yesterday and we’ll live out the lives we deserve together. Live for the hope of it all, for me?” 

“My mom would’ve loved you,” he breaks down again, eyes welling with tears as his lips wobbled. He clenches his jaw, breathing out of his nose so he stays calm. “She said something like that before she died.” 

“She was a smart lady,” Steve smiles, tearing up just as much. “and she made a wonderful, beautiful man because of it. She’d be really proud of you.” 

“And you,” he can’t help but think about how perfect life would be if she was around. “She knew all about my crush on you in middle school, she’s the first person I came out to…”

“Wait, what?” He can't believe it. “Middle school? You’ve liked me that long and never talked to me?” 

“Yep,” he manages to smile. “Do you even remember me in middle school?” 

He nods, thinking back as hard as he can, “you had a buzzcut and you and Jeff played your guitars in the talent show.” 

He can’t believe he remembers that “yeah, that was a year before Gareth moved here.” 

“I need to apologize to him in the morning too,” Steve reflects. “I woke him up and scared the shit out of him too.” 

“I thought if I wasn’t in the kitchen you’d just go back to bed with Robin,” he admits that he wasn’t in there on purpose. 

“I needed you so I went to the trailer,” he admits. “You said I knew where to find you when I needed you and then none of your things were there. I think I genuinely had a mental breakdown at that moment cause I started to believe I made you up and you never lived there and thats why your things were gone.” 

“I’m very real,” he places his hand over Steve’s and guides it down to his heart. “And all yours.” 

“Forever,” Steve whispers, damn sure of himself. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he whispers back. 

Leaning in for a kiss, the love radiates from their chests in this beautiful ultraviolet light, reminding them how their love was worth the fight. Basking in the afterglow, everything was fine, and it always would be.

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @wroteclassicaly @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 

Steddie

@nosaladallowed-ao3 @maya-custodios-dionach @wifeyreid @girl-with-an-orange-cat

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Machine learning sucks at covid

The worst part of machine learning snake-oil isn’t that it’s useless or harmful — it’s that ML-based statistical conclusions have the veneer of mathematics, the empirical facewash that makes otherwise suspect conclusions seem neutral, factual and scientific.

Think of “predictive policing,” in which police arrest data is fed to a statistical model that tells the police where crime is to be found. Put in those terms, it’s obvious that predictive policing doesn’t predict what criminals will do; it predicts what police will do.

Cops only find crime where they look for it. If the local law only performs stop-and-frisks and pretextual traffic stops on Black drivers, they will only find drugs, weapons and outstanding warrants among Black people, in Black neighborhoods.

That’s not because Black people have more contraband or outstanding warrants, but because the cops are only checking for their presence among Black people. Again, put that way, it’s obvious that policing has a systemic racial bias.

But when that policing data is fed to an algorithm, the algorithm dutifully treats it as the ground truth, and predicts accordingly. And then a mix of naive people and bad-faith “experts” declare the predictions to be mathematical and hence empirical and hence neutral.

Which is why AOC got her face gnawed off by rabid dingbats when she stated, correctly, that algorithms can be racist. The dingbat rebuttal goes, “Racism is an opinion. Math can’t have opinions. Therefore math can’t be racist.”

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/01/yes-algorithms-can-be-biased-heres-why/

You don’t have to be an ML specialist to understand why bad data makes bad predictions. “Garbage In, Garbage Out” (GIGO) may have been coined in 1957, but it’s been a conceptual iron law of computing since “computers” were human beings who tabulated data by hand.

But good data is hard to find, and “when all you’ve got is a hammer, everything looks like a nail” is an iron law of human scientific malpractice that’s even older than GIGO. When “data scientists” can’t find data, they sometimes just wing it.

This can be lethal. I published a Snowden leak that detailed the statistical modeling the NSA used to figure out whom to kill with drones. In subsequent analysis, Patrick Ball demonstrated that NSA statisticians’ methods were “completely bullshit.”

https://s3.documentcloud.org/documents/2702948/Problem-Book-Redacted.pdf

Their gravest statistical sin was recycling their training data to validate their model. Whenever you create a statistical model, you hold back some of the “training data” (data the algorithm analyzes to find commonalities) for later testing.

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2016/02/the-nsas-skynet-program-may-be-killing-thousands-of-innocent-people/

So you might show an algorithm 10,000 faces, but hold back another 1,000, and then ask the algorithm to express its confidence that items in this withheld data-set were also faces.

However, if you are short on data (or just sloppy, or both), you might try a shortcut: training and testing on the same data.

There is a fundamental difference from evaluating a classifier by showing it new data and by showing it data it’s already ingested and modeled.

It’s the difference between asking “Is this like something you’ve already seen?” and “Is this something you’ve already seen?” The former tests whether the system can recall its training data; the latter tests whether the system can generalize based on that data.

ML models are pretty good recall engines! The NSA was training it terrorism detector with data from the tiny number of known terrorists it held. That data was so sparse that it was then evaluating the model’s accuracy by feeding it back some of its training data.

When the model recognized its own training data (“I have 100% confidence this data is from a terrorist”) they concluded that it was accurate. But the NSA was only demonstrating the model’s ability to recognize known terrorists — not accurately identify unknown terrorists.

And then they killed people with drones based on the algorithm’s conclusions.

Bad data kills.

Which brings me to the covid models raced into production during the height of the pandemic, hundreds of which have since been analyzed.

There’s a pair of new, damning reports on these ML covid models. The first, “Data science and AI in the age of COVID-19” comes from the UK’s Alan Turing Institute:

https://www.turing.ac.uk/sites/default/files/2021-06/data-science-and-ai-in-the-age-of-covid_full-report_2.pdf

The second, “Common pitfalls and recommendations for using machine learning to detect and prognosticate for COVID-19 using chest radiographs and CT scans,” comes from a team at Cambridge.

https://www.nature.com/articles/s42256-021-00307-0

Both are summarized in an excellent MIT Tech Review article by Will Douglas Heaven, who discusses the role GIGO played in the universal failure of any of these models to produce useful results.

https://www.technologyreview.com/2021/07/30/1030329/machine-learning-ai-failed-covid-hospital-diagnosis-pandemic/

Fundamentally, the early days of covid were chaotic and produced bad and fragmentary data. The ML teams “solved” that problem by committing a series of grave statistical sins so they could produce models, and the models, trained on garbage, produced garbage. GIGO.

The datasets used for the models were “Frankenstein data,” stitched together from multiple sources. The specifics of how that went wrong are a kind of grim tour through ML’s greatest methodological misses.

Some Frankenstein sets had duplicate data, leading to models being tested on the same data they were trained on

A data-set of health children’s chest X-rays was used to train a model to spot healthy chests — instead it learned to spot children’s chests

One set mixed X-rays of supine and erect patients, without noting that only the sickest patients were X-rayed while lying down. The model learned to predict that people were sick if they were on their backs

A hospital in a hot-spot used a different font from other hospitals to label X-rays. The model learned to predict that people whose X-rays used that font were sick

Hospitals that didn’t have access to PCR tests or couldn’t integrate them with radiology data labeled X-rays based on a radiologist’s conclusions, not test data, incorporating radiologist’s idiosyncratic judgements into a “ground truth” about what covid looked like

All of this was compounded by secrecy: the data and methods were often covered by nondisclosure agreements with medical “AI” companies. This foreclosed on the kind of independent scrutiny that might have caught these errors.

It also pitted research teams against one another, rather than setting them up for collaboration, a phenomenon exacerbated by scientific career advancement, which structurally preferences independent work.

Making mistakes is human. The scientific method doesn’t deny this — it compensates for it, with disclosure, peer-review and replication as a check against the fallibility of all of us.

The combination of bad incentives, bad practices, and bad data made bad models.

The researchers involved likely had the purest intentions, but without the discipline of good science, they produced flawed outcomes — outcomes that were pressed into service in the field, to no benefit, and possibly to patients’ detriment.

There are statistical techniques for compensating for fragmentary and heterogeneous data — they are difficult and labor-intensive, and work best through collaboration and disclosure, not secrecy and competition.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[127-mile]

Bots and books.

Pairing: Artificial intelligence Ten x female reader.

Genre: AI, bookstore | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Ten thinks robots are superior to humans.

Plot: When your boss asked you to train the new employee, you didn’t think you would end up with a robot freshly out of the factory.

Word count: +5.3k.

A/N: This is part of the AI project #14320 collab hosted by @pastelsicheng​​​.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

When you hear Taeil's voice behind you, you drop the book you were holding, and when it crashes on your foot, you pursed your lips so as not to be vulgar when so many customers are in the store. "Oh boy, I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I was here." Taeil whispers, and when you look over your shoulder, you notice that he doesn't look embarrassed by the situation, or ashamed, on the contrary, he looks amused.

"I feel like you are trying to hurt me, am I wrong?" you ask, squinting, and he shrugs. At least he bends down to pick up the book and put it where it was supposed to go. "Maybe I'm just trying to get you to go home because you're spending too much time here, maybe I didn't do it on purpose, who knows." If he wasn't your boss, you would have insulted him, but you care about your job, and you like being able to pay your rent every month without having to ask your parents for help.

“I don't spend too much time here, I even think that I don't spend enough time here. But getting back to what caused you to come bother me, yes we can talk. What do you want?" you turn completely towards him, and you tilt your head to the side. "We're going to have a new employee tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could take care of him, show him how the bookstore works, show him how to use the cash register, you know, everything that I taught you when I hired you."

"Aren't you supposed to take care of it, as the boss?" you ask, and he takes his hands out of the pockets of his pants when a client approaches, he smiles at her, and when she disappears, he regains his slumped position. "Are you listening when I'm talking to you?" you know it's a rhetorical question and yet you shake your head, you're not going to lie, you tend to stop listening when he talks for too long. Can he blame you? He has a soft voice that lulls you to sleep.

"I vividly remember telling you last week that I had to go away for a few days. I have an appointment in another city for my next book." oh yes, you remember hearing him mention a new book, an appointment with his publisher, and other people who might help him, but you don't remember hearing him mention the date, or how long he would be gone. "Am I going to have to spend weeks putting books away with your head on the cover? I better get a raise for that!"

"Why would you get a raise, you should be happy to see my face on books!" you could tell him that yes, it's an honor to work with a famous writer, but you don't want to give him that pleasure. "So if I have to take care of the new employee, does that mean that I will also be the boss until you come back from your vacation?"

"It's not a vacation," he mumbles, and you smirk, it's so easy to annoy Taeil, and that's why you like him so much. "but yes, you will be in charge of the store until I return. So are you okay with that?" you know you don't have a choice, that you are the only person working here that he trusts enough to entrust his shop, his baby. "Of course I agree! I won't miss an opportunity to turn a new employee against you."

"Maybe I'll take this opportunity away from the store to find a new employee, to replace you. I've had enough of you!" you're very happy that customers are around, otherwise he certainly would have shouted to sound more dramatic. "You can't fire me, because I'll ruin your business, and you love me way too much, you'll be bored without me. Do I also need to remind you that you wouldn't have a manuscript for your editor to read if I hadn't been there to force you to write?"

Rather than respond, Taeil walks away muttering something between clenched teeth, and if a client wasn't calling for your help to find a book, you most likely would have laughed at his behavior.

Night has fallen for an hour or so when you finally lock the bookstore door behind you, and when the cold wind caresses your cheeks, you sigh deeply. You like this place, it's a bit of a second home for you, but good god, you want to be at home, even if you have to deal with your roommates' antics until you fall asleep.

"Excuse me?"

Your blood freeze in your body, you should have checked that no one was around the store when you went out, because Taeil is already gone, and he won't be there to help you if a drunken idiot, or a little too pushy keeps you from coming home. You take a deep breath, but it hitches in your throat when you turn on your heels. "Can I help you?" you ask in a voice that you hope is not too shaky.

The young man stays silent for a while, and you frown when he tilts his head a little too slowly not to look like a killer straight out of the horror movies you love so much. You clear your throat, and he seems to take notice of the question put to him, so he nods, extending a hand to you. "You dropped that." in his hand, you see the notebook that you always keep in your bag, bag that you have thrown over your shoulder without even taking the time to close it.

The lump that had formed in your throat is disappearing as quickly as it came, and you refrain from sighing in relief. "Oh, thank you very much!" you take the notebook that you put in your bag before closing the zip. "Thank you?" the young man answers, but before you can open your mouth he walks away from the shop.

You happen to meet strange people, but this is the first time you've met someone like him, someone who seems surprised to have been thanked for something as mundane as returning a notebook. Taeil would say that this is a person's first life on earth. Him and his writer mind.

Even though the stranger didn't look dangerous, you make sure he got far enough away to walk in the direction of the stairs leading to the underground metro. If you're not a fan of this place, you like being there at this late hour, because it's not so crowded, and it's easy for you to find a seat in the metro. You push your headphones into your ears, and you look up at the screen near the sliding door.

You roll your eyes when you see the ads for LSM going on. If you were to earn $10 every time you saw it on TV, or heard it on the radio, you would have enough to pay your rent for at least six months without needing to work. This really isn't an exaggeration, the company really wants everyone to know about what they are offering, new updates on their bots, and how excited they are to have sent the most of their new robots in the world for work, for study, or for entertainment.

You have nothing against robots, you just think it's a shame to take jobs from people who genuinely need to work, but apparently: "robots aren't here to replace you, they're here to make it easier for you. Do not be scared, technology is good, we need it." You're not sure if you're okay with that, and you'll let it know when the robots take over the world.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost forget to get up to get out of the metro, these damn robots will end up making you miss your stop. Yes, sometimes it's much easier to blame the robots than it is to accept your responsibilities.

"Johnny, if you don't get out of the bathroom in a minute, I swear to god I'll make you swallow your camera!"

you growl, and you open your eyes. Why do you always have to wake up regretting all the decisions that brought you here, living with two roommates who are ready to tear their heads off at the first opportunity offered to them. "And I'll make you eat your books back if you do that!" you hear Johnny respond, and you wonder why the neighbors haven't filed a noise complaint yet. You would have done it since day one.

"Doyoung, you don't work Saturdays, why are you already up?" you ask in a voice loud enough to be heard, and what you didn't want to happen happens. The door opens, and your gaze meets Doyoung's, he has furrowed brows and dark circles, since when has he not slept? "For your information, young lady, I would be sleeping if Johnny hadn't knocked on my door at six in the morning to ask me for the time!"

"Not that I want to stand up for him, but you looked for it by setting his alarm clock to go off at five the other day." you answer, and he rolls his eyes as he walks into your room to drop into the bed, and you groan when his back blocks your legs. "Doyoung, I have to go to work, so if you could move that would be very nice." he doesn't move, and you wiggle your legs until you can free one. "As soon as I convince Taeil to give me a raise, I'll find myself another apartment and I won't have to deal with you anymore." you mumble, and Doyoung chuckles.

"Even if he agreed to give you a raise, which he won't do until he has published two more books, you won't leave. You don't like silence, and you will miss us too much after the first day." he's not wrong, but you could always find a new roommate. "It's okay, I'll find someone else. Someone who doesn't make me want to throw myself out the window every morning."

"If you need help finding a new roommate, ask us, we'll be happy to help." you sigh when you hear Johnny, and when you turn your head, you roll your eyes. Johnny is in the doorframe, a towel hanging low around his hips, and drops of water falling from his hair. "We'll find you someone good. Or someone worse than us, Doyoung and I will have to talk about it before we decide."

Before Doyoung can react, you free your second leg, grab your clothes for the day, and head to the bathroom, not without pushing Johnny out of the way. "Y/n, I'll make you eat your fucking books!" Doyoung growls as he straightens up, and you laugh. You know he can do it, but before that, he'll take the time to find the worst book in your book shelves to do it, so you'll have plenty of time to run away, change your identity and be forgotten.

You need less time than Johnny to shower, and to be ready to go. When you come out of the bathroom, you notice that the two boys are still in your room, and they are chatting as if they hadn't threatened each other less than twenty minutes ago. "Are you going to stay in my bed? Don't you have bedrooms, or a couch where you can talk?" Doyoung looks up, and he smirks. "Your bed is much more comfortable. We're talking about what to do with this room when you're gone." little shit.

"Well, since I'm apparently the only one working here, I'm going to go. See you tonight, or never." you get your bag that you throw on your shoulder and you stick your tongue out at Johnny who waves to you without moving from your bed, the sheets are going to be damp because of him, and you want to hit him for that, but that might make you late for work.

You leave the apartment, and like the day before, you quickly find the stairs leading to the underground metro, and unlike yesterday, it's more difficult to find your way through the students, workers and partygoers who have just returned from a party the night before. You concentrate on your breathing to avoid letting yourself be overwhelmed by the different smells of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

When the doors slide open, you quickly get out of the train, and you find the outside. You never thought you would miss the clean air as much as since you started taking the subway to work. Since Taeil is away, the shop is still closed, and it takes you at least five minutes to find the keys in your bag, and for a second, you wonder if you haven't left them at home, but you sigh with relief when your fingers come in contact with the cold surface of a key.

You unlock the door, and walk into the store smiling at the familiar scent of old books piling up in part of the store. When you started working here, you asked Taeil what the old books were for, that they would never be sold, but now you see the charm of the old book with the damaged binding, the sound of the pages, and you wouldn't do without them. You put your bag on the counter, and you turn on the lights.

Taeil must have gone to the store before leaving, because you can find the boxes already behind the counter. You could have taken care of the delivery, but Taeil likes to check that everything is there, even if he might be late for an appointment that could really change his writing life, even if in your opinion, he is already quite popular and doesn't need more help.

You sit up when you hear the door open, and you open your mouth. "We're not open yet, sorry." you say, and if you expected the door to close, it stays open, and when you look at the person, your eyes open wide. This is the man who gave you your notebook back last night, and once again, he tilts his head far too slowly not to be awkward to watch.

“I'm LC27296,” he begins, but he shakes his head with a certain vigor that you would never have at this time of the morning. "I'm Ten, I'm going to work here." your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. For a minute, you forgot that you were supposed to take care of the new employee. "Taeil told me to come before the opening to make it easier." oh he did that?

"Before I introduce myself, I have a question for you. What were you doing here last night?" you ask and he suddenly seems nervous. "I- I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure of how long it would take me to get here, so that I wouldn't be late for my first day." you hum, not sure you believe it, but it's not like you can accuse him of something without having any proof whatsoever. "Alright. I'm Y/n, I'll take care of teaching you how the store works until Taeil comes back in a few days. You can shut the door."

Ten does, and he approaches the counter, he doesn't seem in his element, but if Taeil hired him it's because he saw something in him. "Why did you give me numbers when I asked you for your name?" you suddenly ask, curious.

"Oh! It's my serial number, but I was told I had to introduce myself with my name, it makes it easier to fit in." a serial number, what the hell? You frown as you take your phone from the pocket of your jacket, and you open up the conversation with Taeil.

To Taeil: A serial number, what's wrong with the guy you hired?

Taeil must still be in the car, or on the train, since the answer is not long in coming. You shouldn't ignore Ten, but you need an answer before you decide whether you want to be locked up with a stranger all day, or not.

From Taeil: Ten is a robot. LSM sent me a letter a few weeks ago asking if I wanted to take any of them, and I said yes.

To Taeil: And you didn't find it useful to tell me that I was going to have to train a robot? And besides, aren't they already programmed to know how to do everything, why should I waste my time training him? Is this your way of telling me that I'm fired and that you will only hire bots from now on?

You don't get a response, which shouldn't surprise you, so you put your phone on the counter, and you meet Ten's gaze, who hasn't moved an inch. Did he himself on pause while you were busy? "So you are a robot?" you ask in a small voice, and he nods. "Yeah, you didn't know?" honestly no, even though LSM has some amazing quality robots you would expect to see them with bolts and metal.

"It's my first day away from the factory, and I'm very happy to be here!" he adds, and you roll your eyes, if he's happy that's the main thing, but you're not sure you are. "You can think of me as a human being like any other, no need to make a difference because I am superior to you." you gasp at him, but  you can't help but smile, stunned. "Just because you're made of metal doesn't mean you're superior to us. I'm sure if I throw water at you you'll rust and stop working, so in a way, I'm superior."

"You can try, but it won't work! That would be stupid to think we fear water, or fire, or anything for that matter, right?" oh, it might get hectic if he continues. "How about I show you how the store works? Because if we talk any longer, I might look for other ways to turn you off, and you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" he shakes his head, a worried look on his face. Perfect.

You're going to have a serious conversation with Taeil, you think, showing him where the books go, how the cash register works, and where the storeroom is, storeroom that is also used as a rest room.

"For starters, you're going to go to the storeroom, and you're going to sort all the books alphabetically while sorting them by genre, can you do that, oh you superior robot?" you ask, tilting your head, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Of course I can do it!" Taeil never asked that the books in the storeroom to be sorted, since most are unsold books that will be donated to associations or the city library, but you don't want to have him in your legs when the first customers arrive.

You take your phone, and you send one last message to Taeil before turning on the light in the storefront indicating that the store is open.

To Taeil: This robot is an idiot, and if he pisses me off too much, I'm going to fire him whether you like it or not.

To make sure you don't receive an answer, you turn off your phone before throwing it in your bag before starting to put away the new books. And surprisingly, the morning goes off without a hitch. Ten comes out once or twice to ask you for advice on an unfamiliar book, the few customers who come in don't need your help, so that's nice.

When the time comes to close the shop for the next two hours, you enter the storeroom. Ten is sitting on the ground, and he's surrounded by books that should have been put away for a long time now, but the robot seems way too deep in reading to do the job you asked him to do. You frown. "Do you know that reading is not part of your contract?"

Ten doesn't react, he just turns the page and laughs at something he just read. "Taeil buys LSM magazines, I'll go check if I can't find an article on how to deactivate a robot if it becomes threatening." you say, and immediately Ten lifts his head to look at you. "But I'm not threatening!" he exclaims, like a petulant child would.

He may be a robot, but he has typically human reactions, which is strange in itself. At least for you. "They won't have to know when I throw your body in front of the factory you came from." you answer in a slow voice, and Ten finds himself on his feet, not without slipping a bookmark in his book so as not to lose his progress. "Sorry, I found this book, and it's so interesting I couldn't help myself."

You look at the title, and you smirk. You hide in the storeroom when you don't feel like coming home, and it's one of the books you've read. "If you don't want me to tell you who the killer is, you're going to finish putting those books away, and then I'll give you time to read until the store closes tonight, do we have a deal?"

He mumbles something between his teeth, but ends up nodding. You walk away from the room before remembering that you had a question for him, so you go back. "Do robots eat?" you wouldn't want to deprive him of his lunch break and end up with some sort of robots protection squad on your back for mistreatment. "Yes, we eat. I told you, we are like you."

"It's break time so you'll finish tidying up later." Ten passes over a pyramid of books, and he leaves the room, not without taking his book with him. "So, what are we going to eat?" he suddenly asks, and you want to take his book and hit yourself with it. "What do you mean, we?"

"Taeil told me you would take me out to eat with you so I wouldn't be alone in the store." Taeil should remember to tell you when he decides something, because you can't continue to be surprised every time he opens his mouth. "Did he say that?" a nod. "Great. I'm going home to eat, so I think you're going to meet the two most annoying people on this planet after you."

He squeals with delight and you roll your eyes as you pick up your bag. You exit the store by locking the door behind Ten, and you head for the subway train. "I love meeting new humans, you are all so fascinating!" you wonder what can be fascinating about humans, but for a robot, everything has to be. "What fascinates you so much about us?" you ask going down the stairs, being careful that Ten keeps following you, you don't feel like looking for a lost robot in the streets.

"We can feel emotions, but they're programmed for us, so it's not as real as when you feel them." human emotions are difficult to understand, humans are confusing. "I think it's pretty nice to be programmed to feel certain things, it's probably easier, less confusing."

"You're wrong," Ten starts to say, following you in the subway, he sits next to you not without looking at a little dog with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen a dog in real life, so much so that you wonder if there are robot dogs, you'll have to ask him one of these days. "We're forced to feel the emotions, so we don't understand them. Being programmed doesn't mean we understand what's going on."

It's pretty sad, you think.

"Do you have a program that allows you to kill us if we becomes threatening for you?" you ask in a low voice so as not to attract the attention of the students around you. Ten's eyes widen and he chuckles. "No, we can't do that. We're not here to hurt you, just to help you." it's a shame, you would have needed it with Johnny and Doyoung.

"This is where we come down." Ten follows you to the door of your apartment. You can smell Doyoung's food already. He might be annoying, but when he's not working he always makes a snack for you for when you come home from work during the break, and that's very nice. "I live with two people, Johnny and Doyoung, they can be weird, and they might ask you tons of questions, so be prepared."

When you put your hand on the doorknob, Ten puts his hand on your wrist to stop you. "Wait, wait. Are they going to hurt me? Some humans can be mean when in the company of a robot." oh, he didn't sound so nervous earlier, but in a way you can understand that. "They're not mean, and they're quite fascinated by LSM's robots, so you have nothing to worry about, they won't do anything to you."

You open the door when he seems to be relaxing, and you sigh when you hear the loud voices that most likely come from the kitchen. "Johnny, how many times have I told you not to set foot in my kitchen? You're a walking hazard, you'll manage to set some water on fire if you wanted to! Get out!"

"Guys, I'm here. And I'm not alone, so if you could behave like normal people that would be really nice." you say and immediately Johnny's head pops out of the kitchen door jamb and you roll your eyes. "Oh hello mister stranger, who are you, are you our beloved Y/n's secret boyfriend?"

"I-" Ten seems unable to speak, and Johnny throws his head back when he notices the blush on Ten's cheeks as he lowers his head. "Oh, he's blushing! Adorable! He's in love but he hasn't had the courage to tell her yet. Doyoung, come see!" you should have known that they were going to mess with him. You should have warned them before you got home, threatened them, or promised to pay for the next pizza night.

"Shut up, big idiot! He's the new bookstore employee, we met this morning." you respond by swinging your bag in a corner of the apartment after removing your shoes. Ten does the same, and he follows you into the living room. You're pointing your index finger at the boys. "Johnny, Doyoung, this is Ten. He works with me."

"Oh, I didn't know Taeil was okay with hiring bots." Doyoung says, stunned. "How do you know it's a robot?" were you the only one who didn't have a clue? The only one that can't tell the difference between a robot and a human?

"It shows! And he's got LSM's name tattooed behind his ear." You'll have to go see the ophthalmologist to get glasses, because you didn't notice the black ink behind his ear. "Taeil didn't really hire me, it's just a contract for a couple of months to see how quickly I adapt to a new environment. Next time I'll be in a new place." oh, that's a detail you didn't know either, you thought Ten was here for good, at least until you got fired, or left.

"And can't you ask to stay at the bookstore for good?" you ask, sitting down in a chair, and Ten shrugs. "Why, have you already become attached to me? You refuse to see me go?" you could get up and hit him, but you don't want to break your fist if he is made of metal inside. "I said that because I wouldn't say no to less hours of work, dont think I appreciate you."

"She never introduced anyone to us, even casual employees, so you must be special." Johnny says winking at Ten, and you refrain from leaning over the table to hit him. "Taeil asked me to take care of him, what was I supposed to do, lock him in the storeroom with a piece of bread and a glass of water?"

"That's what you would have done with us, so yeah." he's not wrong, that's what you would have done if you had had Johnny and/or Doyoung as a colleague. "Anyway, we don't have all day, so if you could just leave Ten alone so we can eat." you mumble, but Ten shakes his head, apparently he doesn't mind being the center of attention. At least he knows that emotion, and he understands it, that's a good thing.

When it's time to go back to work, you almost have to pull Ten out of the apartment. "But why? I was having fun with your roommates!" of course he was having fun. "You can come back and see them if you want." you answer by going down the stairs. You have a little over thirty minutes left before you have to open the store, so rather than locking yourself in a subway train, you decide to walk.

"Really, you would let me come back?" you shrug your shoulders. "Why wouldn't I want to?" Ten plays with the hem of his hoodie, and you frown, he doesn't look like the type to be surprised or even slightly nervous over something as futil. "Because I wasn't very nice to you when I arrived this morning. But like I told you, some humans don't want us to fit in and want to harm us, and I heard so many stories that I defended myself if you ever decided to be like them."

"I don't understand robots, I don't understand LSM's motivation, but that doesn't mean I would hurt any of you. You should have waited, and you would have known it."

"I'm sorry Y/n, and I promise I'll do my job well until the end of my contract!" he exclaims, his smile back on his face. His beautiful face, moreover, you did not miss this detail. "I hope so, otherwise I won't give you time to read before closing." he gasps, but he laughs, and you have no choice but to laugh with him.

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever. Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for being so very supportive. You guys have been absolutely wonderful. Seriously I couldn't ask for a better group of readers. I need to warn you all that this chapter has quite the graphic and gruesome scene in it, so if that's not your thing I highly recommend skipping the part where Clark starts to watch the video. Some major questions answered here. Hope you all enjoy, and keep the reviews coming. Special thanks to my ever amazing beta Hipkarma. She always helps and inspires me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Chapter Eight

 Dawn smirked as she saw the caller ID flash. So, Buffy had talked to Wes. That was good. She really didn’t want to have to break into the Watchers Council just because she was nosy and worried for her sister. Buffy hadn’t told her much when they talked yesterday, just that there was some sort of prophecy about her and this Clark guy, which just raised all sorts of red flags for her. Dawn had insisted on seeing a copy of the prophecy and her hackles raised even more when she found out how quiet Wes and Willow were trying to keep this. Looks like big sis came through however, and now it was time to give the man on the other line hell for keeping something this important from her.

 “Xand, honey, can you take Abby? Wes is on the phone and it’s time for her nap anyway.” Dawn said, reaching for the phone.

 “No!” Her one and a half your old screeched at the top of her lungs, making Dawn cringe. When they coined the phrase, ‘children are your parents secret revenge,’ they weren’t lying. Abigail was just like her too, even in looks.

 Xander came out of their shared office, a crooked and amused smile on his lips. “You should know by now not to say that word in front of her,” He said, kissing Dawn on the forehead before reaching out and swooping up their toddler. “Come on Abby,” he said as Dawn answered her call. “Daddy will read you your favorite story.”

 “Try to get Joyce down too,” She added, before saying into the phone, “Hello Wes, so good of you to finally call me.”

 She heard the groan on the other end of the line and smiled. “How much do you know?”

 “That there’s a prophecy about my sister and some uber-powerful guy she’s been spending time with, on your instruction I might add.” Dawn said in a mockingly sweet voice.

 She heard him sigh. “Yes, that is all true. Look Dawn, I’m going to send you a copy of the prophecy through your secure fax now. We’ve been able to translate some of it, but there are certain areas where…I don’t think the language is of this world. It’s nothing like we’ve ever seen in any human or demon writings before.”

 Dawn got up and walked into the office, a frown on her face. “You mean like interdimensional, there’s gotta be a reference somewhere Wes.”

 There was silence over the line and for a second and she thought Wes had hung up. She’d just opened her mouth to see if he was still there, when he finally said, “No Dawn, that’s not what I meant at all.”

 Her frown deepened as the first page spat out of the machine. She slid it off the rack and looked at the prophecy. There were several different languages written on the copy, Etruscan, Ancient Sumerian, Ancient Greek, and Latin. At the top were strange symbols unlike anything she’d ever seen before, almost flowing together like cursive. The next page that came out was Wesley and Willow’s translation of that page. She bit her lip, walking over to her desk and went to work making sure what they had translated so far was correct.

 “So,” she began casually, “what I’m getting from the first page is that this guy is much farther from home than just another dimension.” She paused, huffing in annoyance as she snootily added,” It was Sun God by the way, not Star God.” She sighed. “Who are you using anyway, Basile?”

 “Vonten,” He answered and Dawn rolled her eyes. Of course, he was using that moron’s guide.

 “Vonten is an arrogant prick Wes, that book confuses people more than it helps. Burn it, it’s better as kindling. Bachman is the best at Etruscan and Ancient Sumerian, and you already know Ancient Greek and Latin enough not to need a reference.” She said, before frowning as she came to the part about the soulbond. “Wes, what the hell is a soulbond, and why is this referencing my sister and Mr. E.T. having one?”

 As Wesley began to explain what they knew so far, Dawn's face began to pale. Oh, this was not of the good. Buffy was gonna wig to the nth degree when she found out.

 "Does she know any of this?" Dawn asked, turning around and grabbing more of the pages that were still spitting out of her printer.

 "She knows about the bond. I told her this morning." He answered.

 "And what, you’re waiting until she gets pregnant before you tell her the rest?" Dawn asked angrily. "You know this is gonna freak her out..."

 "Which is why I decided not to tell her." Wes interrupted.

 "If you'd let me finish," Dawn snapped, slamming her hand on the desk. "I was going to say this is gonna freak her out, but it would be better if you tell her now." She huffed in frustration. "This just proves how little you guys know my sister. She absolutely will freak and she'll probably fight it at first. Just the idea of her own children having to live the life she has, is not gonna be a happy, joyous moment for her. She's already worried that Joyce or Abby, or maybe even both will be called one day.” Dawn said, before emphasizing her next words, "However, my sister is not stupid, and when push comes to shove, she'll make the right decision like she always does. I get that you’re worried about the Slayer line Wes, we all are, but keeping this from her is not the right way to go about it.”

 She heard Wes’s sigh, “I realize that Dawn, but with the bond itself needing to be fulfilled, I thought that was more than enough for both of them to handle at this time.”

 Dawn looked at the pages covered in the strange flowing script, similar to the symbols on the first page. Wes was right, it was a language. "We need to find a way to translate this. Do you think this is Clark's language from his home world?"

The line was silent for a moment, before he said in annoyance, “Yes, that’s what I meant when I said I don’t think the language is of this world.”

 “Do you think Clark knows how to read it?” Dawn asked.

 A sigh came over the line, “I honestly don’t know. I believe he just discovered where he came from, so I don’t see how he could.” He paused in thought and then murmured to himself, “But even if he can’t, perhaps the ship has a historical archive or maybe there is some form of AI technology that could translate it for us.”

 Dawn frowned, “What ship?”

 As Wesley explained how Buffy and Clark met and the danger Buffy had recklessly put herself in, Dawn found her ire sparking at Buffy’s stupidity. “I’m gonna kill her!” Dawn growled. “She hasn’t done something that reckless since Joyce was born. God fucking dammit, she promised me!”

 Wesley sighed. “In her defense, it could have very well been her fate that made her act so rashly.” He paused before saying, “In any case, Clark was there and according to Buffy, he saved her and watched over her after she went into a healing sleep.”

 Dawn was quiet as she processed that information. So, she didn’t die, which meant Buffy actively tried to stop it from happening. That was good, she was still getting smacked when Dawn saw her, but at least she hadn’t completely broken her promise from three and a half years ago. It was also good to see that this godlike Champion the prophecy spoke of wasn’t just a creature with a penchant for destruction playing at being a white hat because of a curse. That was a nice change.

 “What else do you know about him?” Dawn asked. “I’m assuming you started trying to find him as soon as you started translating this.”

 “Well,” Wesley began, “We first caught wind of a possible candidate about a year ago. We’d been monitoring airwave chatter for possible beings with superhuman strength when we caught a lead. A distress call came in about an oil rig off the coast of Canada in flames and about to explode. In that communication there was talk of a man rescuing the crew members aboard the rig and preventing the tower from collapsing on the rescue helicopter with his bare hands.” He paused for a moment, before saying. “We managed to find a few other incidents of him saving people, one that happened when he was thirteen. According to the incident report, his school bus went off a bridge and into the river. Three witnesses stated that a young Clark Kent managed to push the bus out of the water and rescue his classmate.”

 Dawn whistled, “So this guy really is the real deal white knight, huh?”

 “It would appear so.” He sighed.

 “Wes we’re gonna need to access that ship.” Dawn said, looking over a small section of Sumerian that talked about a trial of choice. The rest of the page was in the alien script however, so any clue as to what that meant was beyond her.

 “I know,” Wesley agreed.

 “Which means, we’re gonna have to tell Buffy and Clark everything.” Dawn reiterated.

 She heard Wesley groan, but he conceded nonetheless. “Alright fine, Willow needs to bring them some pendants to stave off the worst of the compulsion the bond is creating. I’ll have her stop by and get you on her way, unless you want me to tell Buffy myself, that is.”

 Dawn shook her head, “No, no. I think it will be safer for everyone if I’m the one to do it.” Then she bit her lip in thought, “And don’t bother with Willow, just call me when she gets back. I think I need to do this one on my own.”

 “Very well,” Wes agreed. “Willow should be finished within the next few hours. I’ll call you as soon as I know she’s returned.”

 “Alright, in the meantime I’m gonna go over this and make sure all the parts I can read are translated correctly.” Dawn said, adding, "Talk in a few," before hanging up.

 She sighed, rubbing her fingers along her forehead. "Well fuck," she muttered to herself.

 "Everything alright?" Xander asked, coming into the office. 

 "No, not really," she answered handing him the translated first page of the prophecy.

 She watched his eye scan the words before he blew out a breath. "So, this guys an alien?"

 "Looks like." She answered.

 Xander snorted, "Man the Buffster really knows how to pick 'em, doesn't she?"

 Dawn mock glared, before she couldn't contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, you know Buffy. She doesn't do anything by halves."

 ****<S>**<S>****

 As Clark followed Buffy down the hallway, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew she had been trying to reassure him, but her words only had the opposite effect. Were they only feeling any of what they were because of the prophecy and furthermore, given the choice, would she even choose him? She had basically confessed to falling in love with her best friend. The history they had both shared, as disturbing as it was, was an important one to her. She had cared very deeply for this man. How could he ever live up to the memory of a man who had essentially changed a piece of himself for her? Part of him wanted to erase Spike’s memory from her mind, to do whatever he could to drive this man, this demon from her past and another part of him just felt wholly lost. He didn’t want to be anyone’s second best and he certainly didn’t want her to want him only because some guy thousands of years ago decided they were destined. God, he wished his dad was still alive. This would definitely be the type of thing his dad could help him through.

 She stopped at a large set of double doors and turned, catching his expression before he had time to school it into a much more neutral one. She blinked in surprise, "Clark...what’s wrong?"

 He shook his head, “It’s nothing Buffy.”

 Her frown deepened, “Oh no, you definitely have something face. Talk to me. I promise whatever it is, I’ll try to understand.”

 Clark shifted uncomfortably, before finally admitting, “I’m just feeling a little unsure about all this.”

 Her eyes widened slightly, “Because of Spike?”

 Clark sighed, “Well I mean think about it Buffy. You basically told me that you fell in love with your best friend and were willing to marry him for eternity, but the only reason you didn’t is because you were too scared. Would you even look twice at me if he was here now? Are the feelings I’m having for you even real, or is this just destiny trying to force us together?”

 Realization flooded her expression, and she quickly shook her head. “I can’t speak for what-ifs, because I would be lying if I answered that either way…” She swallowed, “As for how you’re feeling, I’ve been under love spells before and granted you usually don’t know you’re under one when you are, but if the feeling’s part was being fabricated, we…we wouldn’t be able to fight this like we are. We would have probably already slept together.” She blushed, looking down. “Fabricated feelings they’re false obviously, but they’re very strong…strong enough to make people dangerous. If what we were feeling was a manifestation, you wouldn’t have these doubts Clark, you wouldn’t even realize there was doubts to be had.” She met his eyes then, her expression serious and stoic. “And as for the fear part, I didn’t want to get into it because…” She sighed again. “You remember how I told you that Angelus showed up right when I was starting to get my life back together?”

 Clark nodded, “I remember.”

 “Well, what I didn’t say is that I was planning on retiring.” She rolled her eyes, “I had this grand plan of going back to school and getting a degree in Art History and moving to Hawaii to open a gallery.” She shook her head, “It was stupid, I know.”

 He immediately shook his head, “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”  

 Buffy blushed. “I just mean it was stupid that I ever thought it could happen.” She shook her head, “Anyway, I started training a girl named Rayanne when we were first getting the new Watchers Council on its feet. She was bright, witty, resourceful and she already had the makings of someone who could be an excellent leader.” She looked at her feet, her hands clenching. “Me and Giles had agreed, in three-years-time, when Ray was eighteen, she would step in and fill my shoes. Faith didn’t want the position and the only other possible candidate that actually did, I flat out refused due to her inability to get along with just about anyone but Willow. I mentored Ray for over a year and she became…well, like a little sister to me. After the whole General Voll fiasco, I was ready to promote her to Senior Slayer status. She had been on it more than any other girl at the compound, helpful and demanding when need be. She’d fought through a horde of zombies and we came out of it with zero losses. The attack was completely unexpected and if she hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.” She met his eyes, “I was so proud of her.” Buffy sighed, “A few months later is when the first girl, Alicia went missing, and by the time Ray disappeared, there were already six that seemed to have just dropped off the planet.” She swallowed, “Angelus revealed himself and killed Giles a few weeks later, and almost three weeks after is when we found Alicia. She was the first and youngest to go missing and she was the first he dropped on our doorstep.” Buffy shook her head squeezing her eyes shut, “I knew what he was doing to Rayanne then, and that she would probably get the worst of it because of her association with me. Alicia was just a taste of what Angelus was capable of.” She opened her eyes, meeting his. “I wanted to have Spike claim me so we would be strong enough to save her and the rest of them, and I was scared because I knew I’d be asking for the wrong reasons. I was afraid Spike would know it too and I would only hurt him by asking. Does that make sense?”

 It was Clark’s turn to avert his eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly.

 She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through it, “Well just in case you have any doubts…” She swallowed, “I don’t even know why I kept this. Angelus loved tormenting me and we didn’t know it at the time but there were several Watchers from the old regime who were very unhappy with the way we were running things. Some of them made deals with Angelus, gave out my email and phone number and my location.” She looked at him, her lips pursed in anger. “One of them would even take video or pictures, documenting my pain for him when he couldn’t be there hiding in the shadows to see it.” She handed him her phone, “I’ve never watched this one, it’s the morning I found Rayanne, he saved her for last. I don’t need to see it, I lived it.” She nodded at her phone, “When he sent it, I didn’t even open it. I just dropped it in an archive and it’s been there ever since.” She shook her head, “I highly recommend only opening the third video file, the one that says, ‘Are you broken yet?’ She met his eyes then, “The first two will be what he did to her. So, unless you feel like throwing up, I would skip those.” She gestured with her chin at the double doors. “I’ll be in there beating on a bag, meet me when you’re done.”

 She turned without another word and went through the double doors not looking back. Clark looked down at the phone swallowing heavily, before opening the file. The video began with the image of the front of a house, not unlike the one they were in now, except there was a large tree in front and something very obviously dangling from it. It looked to be sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps early morning, but he couldn't tell either way due to the lights on the house illuminating everything.

 The person carrying the camera ran towards the house and a refined British voice in distress yelled, "Ms. Summers, come quickly. I think it may be Miss Stevenson."

 The front door flew open and there she was, except she looked nothing like she did now, her eyes were wild, feral even, and she was so pale and sucked up. She looked hollow, worn-down, nothing like the girl he’d spent the last couple of days getting to know. The scream that tore from her lips and the look on her face when she saw what was hanging from the tree, tore through him like a tidal wave of emotion. Clark felt himself growing angry at the Watcher, who was obviously playing both sides. Another man with bleached hair and nothing on but a pair of black jeans came flying through the door next, his eyes wild and worried. 

 The camera panned and followed Buffy as she ran out to the tree, falling to her knees and screaming again. Clark saw what was in the tree then and his stomach almost rebelled right then and there. It was a young girl, no older than sixteen and the only skin left on her body was on her beautiful face and near her pelvic region. The girl’s expression was frozen in a horrified scream that no one who cared ever had the chance to hear. A large white sheet wrapped itself tightly around the girl’s wrists and tied over the lowest branch, the excess linen draping behind the dead girl as some sort of sick backdrop silhouette for the body hanging lifelessly from the tree. There was hardly any blood to speak of, just a pinkish residue from where the body had touched the clean white linen, which told Clark she had been dead for more than a few hours. It wouldn’t be visible to a human through the recording, but because of his enhanced vision Clark could even see puncture wounds in places and deep gashes from where the girl had been restrained.

 The blond man came into the picture then and the Watcher came towards them, circling around so he could see Buffy’s expression, or at least that’s what he assumed the person with the camera was doing. Buffy's mouth was open in silent gulping sobs, giant tears dripping down her cheeks.

 “Love,” The blond man whispered in an apparent British accent not nearly as refined as the Watchers Clark had heard so far. The man fell to his knees behind her looking up at the tree. He shuddered as tears sprang to his electric blue eyes. “Don’t look Buffy…please kitten, please go back in the house.”

 The man placed his hand on her shoulder, and Buffy turned at the gesture and Clark could no longer see her face as she flung herself into the man’s arms and began to sob harder. “It’s Ray,” she howled. “Oh god, it’s Ray.”

 “Shh,” The blond man hushed, rubbing hands along her back in a comforting gesture. “I know,” He choked. “I know, love.”

 “We…we can’t leave her like that.” She sobbed. “I-I have to get her down.”

 Clark watched the blond man close his eyes and shake his head, “I’ll do it. Go back in the house, please Slayer.”

 “No,” Buffy shook her head as Clark caught the silhouette of another man flying from the house and over to them. The sound of retching could be heard, and it took Clark a second to realize the sound came from whomever had just come from the house and seen the body. “It has to be me. Don’t you see, don’t you get it? I knew,” she sobbed. “I knew what he was doing to her and I didn’t do anything.”

 “Oh, sweet girl, you’ve been trying to find her. We all have. This isn’t your fault.” The man choked.

 “It’s not good enough,” She screamed, shoving away from him and falling on her rear, “And it is my fault, all of it! They were called because of me, because I was too chicken shit to just except the power that was offered to me!”

 A sob broke from her lips, and she turned looking directly at the cameraman a sudden realization dawning in her hollow eyes. “You!” She snarled, her eyes flashing. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She started marching towards the cameraman.

 “Ms.…Ms. Summers,” Whomever was holding the camera stuttered and then she was there, a well-aimed kick flying towards the camera before Clark saw sky for a few seconds.

 “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” She screamed suddenly hovering over the man, the wild fury in her eyes telling Clark that she had every intention of killing this man, and part of Clark couldn’t agree more. “No one else but an Angelus minion would have called me out here for Rayanne! Everyone else would know better!”

 Clark watched as she threw a punch, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking ringing through the speaker as the guy howled in pain. The way her arms were angled next and the gurgling sound through the phone told him she was choking the man before three sets of arms suddenly grabbed her, pulling her off. Clark could hear the man wheeze as he tried to catch his breath while Buffy screamed and fought the three people who had pulled her away. Faith was one of them, and then the blond man, which Clark was pretty sure by now was Spike, and another man, tall, brunet, with an eyepatch. He saw Willow in the distance coming towards them and when she reached them, she touched Buffy’s shoulder before she could react and muttered a few words that sounded like Latin. Buffy suddenly collapsed and Clark realized Willow had put her to sleep. All eyes then turned towards the cameraman.

 “Get her in the house, Xander.” Spike growled.

 “Uh, Spike–” Xander started to say when Spike turned on him.

 “Get her in the bloody fucking house, now!” He snarled, a sound like grinding bone emanating from the man as his voice altered to something more sinister. “I’m not going to kill him.” He said turning back towards the camera as two glowing amber eyes stared at Clark.

 “Speak for yourself,” Faith said marching towards the man. “I’ve been getting those fucking emails too.”

 “So have I,” Willow said, her eyes black as she stared the camera down.

 “We won’t have to kill him,” Spike clarified as he fell in step with Faith. “Angelus will do that for us.”

 “How you figure?” Faith asked, her eyes just as enraged as Buffy’s had been.

 Spike suddenly sprung forward, his arm reaching out and a ripping sound emanated as the man screamed. His hand came back with what looked like a wad of hair. “This enough Red?”

 “Plenty,” Willow said, sudden realization dawning in her black eyes.

 “Now,” Spike said, a sinister grin stretching his fanged mouth, to the whimpering man. “The way I figure it, you got three options. The first being, you can go back to Angelus and give him this tape, at which point he finds out we now have a way to track you, and oh trust me Marcus, he will most definitely kill you for that.” Clark heard the man begin to sob, and part of him wanted to turn off the video at that point but couldn’t look away at the furious amber eyes that stared back at the camera. “Option number two, you can destroy the tape and run, which if we’re being honest would be the preferable of the three, but I’m sure you are well aware of the kind of wrath he would bring down on you if he didn’t get to see his almost masterpiece complete, so I’m sure you won’t.” Spike’s hand suddenly flew forward and the man screamed in pain, “Or option three,” He growled, “Where you run like a coward and keep the tape for leverage, hoping that your usefulness hasn’t run its course.”

 He suddenly had the camera in his hands, staring directly into the screen his eyes burning into the lens. “Looks like your mole got ousted. This is your last one, Angelus. We’re coming for you and when we’re done there won’t be anything left.” The screen suddenly went black as the video cut off.

 Clark let out a trembling breath looking around him and realizing he had slid to the floor at some point, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he didn’t know, he didn’t understand until that moment. That poor girl, no wonder Buffy was desperate. How many girls did she find like that before this one was left for her? How many videos did she force herself to endure before this one was sent, even Faith and Willow had said this wasn’t the first one? Clark squeezed his eyes shut, she had told him, so had Gunn but to see it. She was driven half-crazy by what that vampire had done and he could not blame her for that. What would he do if it was his mother in that position? God, he could only imagine.

 He shakily got to his feet, listening as he heard the sound of a fist hitting leather, he walked to the doors and threw them open, not stopping when she paused to look at him. He had to reassure himself that she was okay, that she wasn’t that angry creature that he saw in the video. He went straight to her, his arms coming around her in a crushing embrace before his lips met hers. God, she was so strong, he didn’t realize how much until that moment. Buffy immediately melted into him, her lips parting for him as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She was such a small woman, everything about her was deceptively tiny, except her strength and fortitude both physically and emotionally. To go through what she had and still be able to function on a normal level was just short of a miracle.

 He pulled away and looked down into her green eyes, haunted by her past but not dead and hateful like in the video. He bent down and laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I…” He started, “I didn’t…I’m so sorry Buffy.” He whispered, and he could still feel himself trembling. “I didn’t… You hear words like torture, rape, and murder but–”

 “They’re not real until you see it for yourself.” She finished in understanding.

 Clark sighed, hugging her closely, her head resting against his chest. “I get it now, not…but I understand how desperate you must have been to try and save the girls from that.”

 He heard her sniffle, “I didn’t know what else to do. I watched all the others you know, even…even what he did to them. It was my fault, you see; those girls lost their lives because they had a connection to me.” She shook her head, “If they hadn’t been called, they would still be alive today.”

 Clark pulled away and used his hand to raise her chin so he could see her eyes, “You blame yourself for every one of them that dies no matter how it happens, don’t you?”

 She closed her eyes a shuddering breath hissing through her lips, before she opened them, meeting his gaze head on. “How can I not?”

 He sighed, hugging her close again and shook his head. He had no response to that; he didn’t think she should. He didn’t think it was healthy, but he didn’t want to get in an argument about it with her right now either.

 They stayed like that for a little while before she whispered, “You’re shaking.”

 Clark nodded. “I know, the video…I’m still upset.”

 She pulled away, meeting his eyes again. “Do you want me to show you how to throw a punch properly? The heavy bags have been warded well, we can start there.” She looked down, “It will…it will help relieve some of what you’re feeling at least.”

 “Yeah,” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”

 ****<S>**<S>****

 To say Clark was a fast learner when it came to training would have been the understatement of the year. He was an absolute natural. He moved with precision and grace, sometimes striking so fast she almost didn't see him move. 

 As of now she was simply holding the bag for him as he got comfortable with the rhythm of landing punches and even with the wards on the bag, she could feel the impact of his strikes. At this rate she would need her suit within a few days to let him get the feel of fighting a moving target. At some point she might even bring him back to Cleveland to put him up against multiple fighters and see how he did.

 "Remember to move your feet,” She reminded. "A moving target is harder to hit."

 He nodded, bounced on the balls of his feet and struck, the impact of the punch making her bones rattle. "Whoa, nice one Clark." She laughed, "Felt that one in my toes."

 He grinned, striking the bag again harder. "You were right," he said casually in between punches. "This does help."

 She grinned, "Nothing like getting your aggression out with a bit of violence." And then she blushed, smirking, "Well almost nothing." 

 He chuckled as he threw a few more punches in quick succession, his own smirk forming on his lips. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and had just opened his mouth to comment when Buffy’s phone rang.

 Buffy sighed, releasing the bag. "That will either be Wes or Willow."

 It was now around three in the afternoon; Clark had told her he had to pick his mom up at six and it was an hour drive to Smallville from where they were. So, she was grateful that they were going to be able to get this taken care of before meeting his mom.

 Buffy walked over to her phone and answered. "Hey Wes," she said in greeting. "What's the haps?"

 He was silent for a moment and she could almost hear him roll his eyes at her butchering of the English language. "Willow," He began, "should be there shortly. Dawn would also like to see you. I told her I would call her once Willow was done securing the pendants."

 Buffy frowned, “What? Why?”

 “Dawn and I have come to the conclusion that one of the languages in the prophecy that I have been unable to identify, is most likely written in the script of Clark’s home world.” He paused, “We are going to need access to the ship, unless of course Clark can read it.”

 Buffy looked at Clark and raised an eyebrow, but he quickly shook his head. “Only a few words,” He confirmed. “I think the computer on the ship might be able to translate it though.”

 “That’s a negative, Wes,” Buffy answered, beginning to pace. “But he agrees that the computer on the ship should be able to do the job.”

 “Very well, I’ll inform Dawn to dress accordingly. The ship is still in the same location I presume?” He asked.

 “Whoa,” Buffy said halting her steps, realizing what he was suggesting. “You want us to go tonight? Clark has to pick up his mom from work, Wes.”

 “I think it would be for the best. The sooner we get this prophecy translated, the better.” He paused. “Lorne told me I needed to send out more Slayers to India, Kansas, and Metropolis within the next two weeks and I would very much like to know if I should be sending two or a few hundred. If this prophecy gives any indication of what’s to come, I would very much like to know what it is.”

 Buffy and Clark exchanged worried looks. “He only told me something was coming for Clark, and we’re gonna need all hands-on deck when it does.”

 Buffy watched Clark swallow nervously. “He told me my time for hiding was almost up, but he said it was in the coming month.” His eyes widened in realization. “We need to translate that prophecy.”

 Buffy nodded in agreement, “And I need to train you harder than just beating on a bag, which means it’s gonna be eight-hour days from here on out.” Clark opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand, “We’ll get as much as we need to do in the mornings done, but if for whatever reason we can’t, I would loan you the money before I would let you lose your home.”

 Clark frowned, “Buffy–”

 “Take it from someone who knows what those kinda money troubles feel like,” She interrupted again. “I think in the scheme of things saving the world is a little more important than pride, don’t you?”

 His frown deepened. “You think it’s going to be that big?”

 “Lorne said all hands-on deck and it’s you. Someone coming after you has got to be as powerful, if not more.” She watched his face fall and reached out her hand out running it down his arm, “You’ll be ready, and now that we have a general idea of where this stuff might take place, we’ll all be even more prepared.”

 “Wes,” she said, addressing the Watcher once more. “Were gonna need Willow to keep close, and I would call Illyria back from Cairo.”

 “I agree,” Wesley said, just as a portal opened up and Willow walked through. Her smile melting away at the look on both Buffy and Clark’s faces.

 “Uh-oh,” Willow said nervously. “I know that face.”

 “Is that Willow?” Wesley asked over the line.

 “Yeah,” Buffy said.

 “Let me speak with her, please.”

 Buffy held out the phone to Willow, who frowned but took it anyway. “Hey Wes,” Willow said in greeting as Buffy walked over to where Clark was standing looking more than a little worried.

 “Hey,” she said quietly.

 He attempted to smile but he couldn’t pull it off. “Hey, yourself.”

 She bit her lip watching him, seeing the turmoil play across his face of having an unknown enemy out there that could be responsible for hurting others when they decided to rear their ugly heads. She didn’t blame him, if she needed to pull out her big guns as Lorne hinted then it could definitely get bad. She was optimistic however, because of what she’d had to face in her past. Clark didn’t have that same luxury.

 “I-I know you’re not exactly used to going up against big bads, or having to fight gods,” she started. “But I promise you Clark, no matter what it is we’ll deal with it together. Tonight, I’ll have my sister meet us at your place and we’ll go to the ship and find out what this prophecy says. Whatever’s coming, we’ll deal. I promise you; we won’t lose.”

 “How do you know?” He asked, a bit of hope showing in his eyes.

 She stared at him seriously, “Because I don’t lose when it’s the world.”

 His lips quirked slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something when Willow walked up to them. “Wes wants me to fit you for a suit,” She said to Clark, handing Buffy her phone before saying, “And, he wants to talk to you.”

 As Buffy reached for the phone Clark said, “I already have a suit and it’s Kryptonian.”

 Both Buffy and Willow blinked in surprise at his words, their voices ringing out in unison. “You do?”

 He nodded, “Yeah, it’s on the ship still, but I have one.”

 Willow smiled, “Well then, that’s gonna make this quicker. Can you bring it to me? I can enhance it with magic, add some safety features and protect you against the mystical.”

 “Will that still work, even if the material isn’t of Earth?” He asked.

 “Yeah Wes,” Buffy finally said into her phone, pulling herself away from the conversation. So, Clark already had a suit, she wondered what it looked like.

 “So, for the time being I’m going to send fifty Slayers to each location, but keep the others on standby incase things go pear-shaped.” He said, already planning ahead. “I’ll also be moving quite a few closer to all three locations, that way all the girls have backup nearby. I think Willow should stay there at the safehouse that way she’s not far from either of you.”

 “And Dawn, Xander, and the kids? They live in Metropolis after all.” Buffy asked.

 “Perhaps you should explain the situation to her when she gets there. Staying there at the safe house with Willow might also be a wise move for them.” Wes said, adding, “As well as a few Slayers. I know Faith’s been itching to get out of Cleveland for a mission, maybe she and a few of the other girls should accompany her.”

 “Just as long as it’s not Tanya, that girl’s a liability and she doesn’t listen to anyone.” Buffy said.

 “I concur,” Wesley agreed. “Only the girls who are focused and dedicated will be allowed to participate in this mission. I would like as little casualties as possible.”

 “I agree,” Buffy nodded, “What about the mystics, how many of those can we tap?”

 “I have sixty-eight on file, I’ll start making phone calls now.”  He sighed. “I’m just glad we have this much to go on.”

 “Me too,” Buffy agreed. “I’ll call Dawn when Willow gets done here and tell her where to meet us and to put on her suit and a warm hat.”

 “Very well,” he said. “Call me when you know more and I’ll begin the preparations.”

 Buffy hung up, walking back over to Willow and Clark as they spoke to each other a bit awkwardly. “So, let’s get this over with Wills.”

 Willow quickly nodded opening a small bag she brought with her. “So,” she said quickly. “These were a bit difficult to make since from what we’ve read the compulsion itself seems to be based purely on hormones as well as a need to unite your souls.” She looked at them both, “It took me a little while to find what I needed and even longer to put the spell together.” She sighed, “The pendants themselves will be made out of several crystals used to block compulsion, amethyst, ametrine, chrysocolla, and ruby.”

 Willow pulled out two small corked vials filled with multicolored stones and handed them to both Buffy and Clark. “Now, hold out your hands and link your free ones together.”

 Buffy and Clark did as she asked, holding their hands out palm up. Willow placed a vial in each of their hands and then covered them with her own hands, closing her eyes and beginning to chant. Buffy immediately began to feel her hand heat up and for a second it almost became unbearable and Buffy even watched Clark wince from the heat. It was gone just as quickly however and in its place were two hard looking marble like multicolored stones with a dark metallic chain that would hang from each of their necks. Buffy heard Willow mutter one more spell that she recognized to be a ward against breaking.

 “Well go on.” Willow said smiling happily at her work. “Try them on, see if it worked.”

 Buffy quickly slipped the necklace over her head and a sigh of relief left her lips. The sexual tension that had never fully abated her all day finally easing enough to where she wasn’t thinking about sex every few seconds.

 Clark had a similar reaction, his face seeming to ease slightly, but Buffy was surprised when he turned to Willow and asked, “You said the compulsion is only based on hormones, does that mean any feeling we have that aren’t sexual are real?”

 Willow nodded, “Of course, real love is something that can only be based off of free will. Its why love spells don’t ever work. You can’t force someone to love you.”

 Buffy watched amused as Clark seemed to sigh in relief, and then quickly blushed when he noticed her watching him. “Come on stud,” she said hooking her arm through his and dragging him towards the door of the training room. “Let me go grab my stuff before we go get your mom,” a grin creeping over her face as she turned and wished Willow a good night and a promise to catch up tomorrow. “And for the record”, she added quietly as they walked out of the training room. “I still want to jump you, that hasn’t changed even with the necklace on.”

 He quickly reached out to grab her arm, but she easily dodged him and took off down the hallway, a blush and a giggle leaving her lips.

 Clark was suddenly there in front of her, a crooked and devilish smile on his lips. “Is that so?” And then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she squealed in surprise.

[aiweirdness]

AI + Vintage American cooking: a combination that cannot be unseen

A week ago, in a sudden fit of terrible judgement, I decided to find out what would happen if I:

Asked people to help me collect examples of the worst, the weirdest, the most gelatinous recipes that vintage American cooking has to offer, then

Trained a neural net to imitate them

People submitted over 800 recipes in all, including such recipes as:

“Beef Fudge” (contains marshmallow, chocolate chips, and ground beef),

“Circus Peanut Jello Salad” (also contains crushed pineapple and kool-whip), and

“Tropical Fruit Soup” (contains banana, grapes, and a can of cream of chicken soup)

“Lemon Lime Salad” (also contains cottage cheese, mayonnaise, and horseradish)

As I watched this dataset coalesce, much as one might watch a speeding dumpster begin to spin out of control, I began to approach the state I dreaded: all the recipes began to seem normal.

Shrimp + grapefruit + lemon jello? Citrus seafood is a thing.

Chili sauce + lemon jello + cottage cheese + mayo? Well it's not SWEETENED jello, so

I began to wonder if I would actually be able to tell the difference between the neural net recipes and the real thing. Jello was supposed to be easy-to-prepare, after all - maybe through repetition an advanced neural net like GPT-2 would learn how to make basic jello, and then anything it would decide to chuck in there would be technically reasonable. Maybe it would even coalesce on an ideal form, one that distilled human invention down to its essentials.

No, as it turns out. Here’s a neural net recipe.

It does cocktails, too.

The training data contained a lot of things. It contained eel only once. For some reason the AI has decided to use eel a LOT.

It also invents ingredients.

Some of the neural net recipes bear at least some resemblance to the human versions, but manage to mess them up profoundly. Without a sense that the recipe directions are describing ingredients and things that happen to them, the neural net never gets the hang of jello - that you need hot water to make it gel, that it doesn’t go in the oven. It also forgets to add all of its ingredients, or introduces some that were never mentioned before. This is partly because its memory is terrible, and partly because it doesn’t know what’s important.

I couldn’t find a setting at which the neural net recipes could consistently pass for human. Set the chaos levels too low and the neural net would repeat the same few recipes, forgetting a different key step or ingredient each time. Set the chaos levels too high and the neural net would get ever more inventive, producing recipes that promised creamy lime and called for golf balls or elk hide, or directed the chef to remove the lamb’s giblets.

Some of its recipes were beyond bizarre.

Remember that today's AI is much closer in brainpower to an earthworm than to a human. It can pattern-match but doesn't understand what it's doing. Commercial AI is not significantly smarter than this recipe AI. Humans have just hopefully done a better job of preventing it from making oblivious mistakes.

It got to the point where I would see a recipe like this and be excited and proud of the neural net. Then I would realize just how very low my standards had fallen.

One thing the neural net has learned from humans is that it's good to include a story with your recipe.

It is bad at this.

The neural net puts lots of words in its recipes that were never in the jello-centric training data. It’s drawing from its initial general training on internet text. It read a LOT of fanfic on the internet during its initial general training, and still remembers it now. Except now all its stories center around food.

It’s trying. It’s startlingly bad. It wants us to remove the internal rinds twice. AI’s not ready to take over the world - it can’t even figure out the kitchen.

Subscribers get bonus content: More jello-centric neural net recipes, including some that were too long to post here. Be especially afraid of the ones that aren’t exactly “recipes”.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

[irondadfics]

hi, I love this account :)))

have you got any good sleepy!peter fics?

thanks <3

Five Times Peter Parker Pretended to Be Asleep by @blondsak 

...and the one time he actually was.

Or: sometimes, faking sleep can work to your advantage. When it comes to trying to fool a certain genius, overprotective, superhero mentor, Peter finds this to be doubly true.

5 Times Peter Stayed Awake by LostSaturn

....and the 1 time he couldn't.

Peter Parker vs. Bert Achong, Anthony Epstein, and Yvonne Barr by @whimsicalethnographies

A teenage rite of passage and Spider-DNA

Mid-winter Siesta by @whimsicalethnographies

“‘M not tired,” Peter rubs his eyes when they reach the heavy oak door of his room, obviously very tired. He shivers. “‘M jus’ cold.”

“Probably because you’re tired,” Tony opens the door and walks Peter through, deliberately ignoring the mess of clothes and books on the floor.

“May always says that, too.”

“Probably because it’s right,” Tony has no idea if it’s right, but his mother always said it. Pepper says it. It sounds right. Maybe it’s a Parent Thing. “So get those covers I paid too much for off the floor and get in bed.”

Hush (For It Is Dark) by @losingmymindtonight

Tony Stark woke up, like clockwork, every morning at 2:00 am. -- (Or: Tony Stark, lullaby extraordinaire.)

Stay (I Could Be Your Hiding Place) by @losingmymindtonight

Peter isn't the only one who struggles with nightmares after the Avengers finally reverse the Snap. Every once in a while, Tony needs some reassurance too. Luckily for him, May and Peter don't mind that one bit.

losingmymindtonight actually has a bunch you can check out!

Of Fevers & Thankfulness by @awesomesockes & @whumphoarder

Peter comes down with mono just before Thanksgiving.

lay your weary head to rest by hopeless_hope

“Please.” He means to say it loudly, with confidence, but it comes out as nothing more than a raspy whisper. His ears are ringing painfully, and his head feels like it’s going to explode. It hurts and hurts and hurts.

“M-May,” Peter cries out to no one, feeling like a child. “Tony. Please, ‘m so tired.”

He inhales and chokes on his tears.

He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not, but he’s pretty sure he hears a laugh.

-

In which Peter gets kidnapped, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is he's not allowed to sleep.

you heal me like the light of day by @searchingforstarss

Peter tries to hide a stab wound and an infection-fuelled fever is never any fun. Also, it turns out that Beck is still lurking in Peter's mind much more than anyone realised.

Night(mare) Before Christmas by Desirexwolf

Christmas had always been a quiet affair for the Parkers and when Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that. Tony proves him wrong.

i pour my heart into your hands by @parkrstark

Insomnia has a tight hold on Tony. But, it's not much of a match for Peter Parker.

As Real as Anything by sahiya

“If you’re calling to ramble tipsily at me about something you dreamed up with Ted, I’m going to hang up on you,” Tony mumbled into his pillow without bothering to do anything so pedestrian as pick up his phone. This was what he had an AI for.

The sound he got in response made him shoot up in his bed. It was a sob, but not only a sob. It was a gut-wrenching, bone-deep, sob of despair, and it was coming from his kid. “Tony,” was the only word he could make out. And then again, “Tony, Tony, Tony.”

Warmer in the Winter by @the-reverse-mermaid

Nobody's seen Peter for a couple days. ...this is how Tony finds out that spiders hibernate.

(Written for the 12 Days of Fluffy Christmas prompt: "cold sleepy cuddles")

You Have a Bed (Don't Sleep Here) by endlessnepenthe

“‘m tired,” Peter exhales, more breath than distinct syllables, and Tony’s heart aches.

“I’m too old to carry you,” Tony jokes (but not really).

Or, Peter falls asleep on the sofa, but Tony isn't having any of that.

Also check out the Sleepy Peter Parker tag on ao3 for more!

[passionate-reply]

In 1993, Billy Idol--yes, that Billy Idol--went completely mad and made an electronic album full of futuristic themes, samples, and techno beats. Many consider Cyberpunk one of the worst albums of all time, but on this week’s installment of Great Albums, we provide a somewhat more positive approach. Check out the video, or read the transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be taking a look at an artist one might not normally associate with the usual “pantheon” of synthesizer jockeys I usually talk about: Billy Idol. Initially known as the frontman of punk outfit Generation X, Idol found success as a solo artist in the early 1980s, fusing tough-as-nails punk aesthetics with a lavish, almost camp sense of glam, and his visually arresting pop-rock made him an MTV-friendly star of the “Second British Invasion.” While one couldn’t fairly argue that Idol was an “electronic musician,” his early work does contain moments of mild electro-curiosity, perhaps most notably the mercurial ballad, “Eyes Without a Face.”

Music: “Eyes Without a Face”

But despite the minor synth touches of the hit single “Eyes Without a Face,” few in the 1980s could have possibly expected the turn Idol’s career would eventually take by the time of his 5th studio LP: 1993’s Cyberpunk. Cyberpunk is, of course, an album with a reputation that precedes it, and that reputation is not a particularly good one. Cyberpunk is a deeply fraught album, which commercially underperformed upon release, and did even worse in the eyes of critics, with the magazine Q dubbing it the 5th worst album of all time. In the nearly 30 years since the album’s release, opinions on it don’t seem to have softened that much, either. But as with everything I choose to talk about, I think Cyberpunk is worth listening to. I think it’s a daring and challenging work of art, and one that stands on its own terms when approached head-on. Whether you’re familiar with this album or not, I encourage you to give it a fresh listen, and a fair shake.

Music: “Wasteland”

Perhaps the most immediately apparent feature of Cyberpunk is its increasingly electronic soundscape, including a prominent sample-based hook on the track “Wasteland.” The album was created in less than a year, and chiefly through use of computers and digital audio software, which Idol evidently found easier to explore and use than earlier forms of music technology. I’m partial to the argument that sees the use of digital software as perfectly compatible with the famed DIY ethos of punk, and hence, not far from Idol’s wheelhouse at all. In the 1990s, computers were still something that far from everyone owned, but in our contemporary world of Soundcloud rappers on seemingly every street, it’s easier to accept the notion of computer music as a grassroots, egalitarian field where even the unskilled are welcome--perhaps even moreso than punk ever was, in the 20th Century. This is one sense in which I think Cyberpunk has aged better than anyone could have possibly imagined. Besides pushing the texture of Idol’s music into new territory, Cyberpunk is also a fairly risky album structurally, opening with a sort of manifesto being read, and peppered with brief interludes between its tracks proper.

Music: “Interlude 3”

It’s only fitting that an album so concerned with the bleeding edge of technology might also try to push the boundaries of the still-fresh CD age. Liberated from the confines of designing chiefly for vinyl, artists like Idol were empowered to create CDs that ostensibly had 20 “tracks,” with no need for empty grooves to separate these brief interludes from the album’s major compositions. This avant-garde touch adds significant amounts of texture to the album, and, dare I say, a sense of world-building. Undoubtedly, one main reason why this album was so poorly received at the time is that it is, quite simply, not what one expects a Billy Idol record to sound like--at least, with the possible exception of its second single, “Shock to the System.”

Music: “Shock to the System”

“Shock to the System” feels like something of an orphan in the tracklisting of Cyberpunk. While tracks like “Wasteland” certainly maintain a rough-edged rock mentality about them, and could never be confused for straightforward techno floor-fillers, “Shock to the System” feels more like it was tacked onto the album just so that it would have something that appealed to those who exclusively prefer Idol’s earlier style--and, given that most of Idol’s greatest hits compilations tend to include “Shock to the System” and nothing else from Cyberpunk, this may have worked. Cyberpunk, as a genre, is often concerned with political themes--its great literary progenitor, William Gibson, once said that “the future is already here, but it’s unevenly distributed,” epitomizing the extent to which the intersection between technology and class is a central issue in cyberpunk media. “Shock to the System” is the most overtly political track on Cyberpunk, inspired by the wave of riots that broke out in Los Angeles following the acquittal of police officers alleged to have used excessive force in the arrest of a Black man, Rodney King. While the role of computers in daily life has changed a great deal since the 1990s, police brutality and anti-Blackness have sadly remained quite similar.

Few have commented on the perhaps uncomfortable implications of Idol’s dramatization of the LA riots from outside, which seems to transmute the scene into one of high-tech fantasy while largely eliding over the racial implications of why people were rioting in the first place--something that seems particularly strange when one learns how upset members of the underground “cyberculture” were about the alleged co-opting and appropriation of their culture. Some have characterized Idol as an honest appreciator of cyberpunk who just wanted to make art that engaged with its ideas, and others more cynically consider him a profiteer who thought he could commercialize a more palatable version of the counter-culture. While the latter hypothesis may well be true, I’m not sure if it can rightfully be said that Idol had “no right” to mine cyberculture for inspiration, particularly since cyberculture has often encouraged amateur participation. Still, as a sometime fan of the literary genre myself, I’m tempted to agree with those who have questioned how deep Idol’s understanding of cyberpunk actually was, particularly when faced with tracks like “Neuromancer.”

Music: “Neuromancer”

In William Gibson’s novel of the same name, Neuromancer is a super-advanced AI with the ability to preserve people’s personalities in virtual reality...though you probably wouldn’t have guessed any of that from this track. Many who interviewed Idol seemed to think he had a weak grasp on the finer points of cyberculture, and even Gibson himself, upon meeting Idol, failed to take him seriously. Still, I don’t think it’s entirely fair to draw a line in the sand, as some have done, and say that Idol was particularly, individually, responsible for the dilution of cyberpunk ideals, as presented by authors like Gibson. While it may be easy to poke fun at the clownish, overwrought figure of Idol, as the embodiment of people who love books they don’t understand, it’s not like that many people owned this album. I think the success of popular films like Blade Runner and The Matrix has done much more to simplify and proliferate ideas cribbed from Gibson.

But however you feel about this, it’s clear that Cyberpunk was an album that ended up appealing to nearly no-one--it alienated Idol’s existing fans with its stylistic diversions, as well as feeling too commercial and inauthentic to cyberpunk enthusiasts. Something else that I haven’t seen mentioned in discussion of this album is the fact that Billy Idol really wasn’t the first to combine the ideas of cyberpunk and music. By the early 1990s, industrial acts like Front 242 and Front Line Assembly had already been making electronic music about cyber brain implants for years, albeit largely underground and often unnoticed by rock-focused critics. I can’t help but think that the prior existence of this stuff was yet another factor that caused Cyberpunk’s failure to thrive. Compared to the electronic body music scene, Cyberpunk comes across as less subtle, less insider, and much more surface-level.

The cover art of Cyberpunk has attracted nearly as much derision as the associated music. The image of Idol’s face bleeds and distorts “into” and “against” a gridlike field, perhaps the greenish terminal of an early computer screen, a representation of the hacker figure entering the virtual world of cyberspace, and identity blurring along those lines. With its wobbly image distortion and queasy complementary colour palette of yellow and purple, it instantly evokes not only cyberpunk aesthetics generally, but more particularly the fusion between cyberpunk and another popular aesthetic of the early 90s: psychedelia, which experienced a substantial resurgence around this time, related to rave culture and its embrace of hallucinogenic party drugs. So-called “cyberdelic” themes abound on the album as well, particularly on the hypnotic “Adam In Chains,” a track that sounds less like 80s New Wave, and more like 90s New Age.

Following the release and subsequent panning of Cyberpunk in the 1990s, Billy Idol went silent for over a decade. While he claimed that his disinterest in making new music was rooted moreso in mismanagement by Chrysalis Records than it was the album’s failure, it’s very tempting to look for a correlation here. Over the years, Idol was often asked if he ever planned to make more electronic music, and consistently claimed that he was chiefly interested in guitar-centric rock, while never completely trashing his vision for Cyberpunk. True to his word, when Idol finally did return to music with 2005’s Devil’s Playground, he delivered on his “classic” sound, and he’s continued to do so ever since.

Music: “Scream”

My favourite track on Cyberpunk is its lead single, the total showstopper “Heroin.” “Heroin” is actually a cover of a song by the seminal Velvet Underground, and it’s everything I think a cover ought to be: exciting, bizarre, and capable of taking something familiar and kicking it into a whole new territory. What’s the point of covering something without changing it and doing something a bit different? “Heroin” is naturally one of the most psychedelic-oriented tracks on the album, being a cover of a drug-themed 1960s classic, as well as one of the tracks with the most influence from dance genres like techno, boasting a very appealing extended outro that makes it feel like a 12” remix. While I think Cyberpunk is a fascinating album, “Heroin” is the one track I think really crosses the bridge from being interesting to being, quite simply, good, and it’s something I’m much more inclined to sit down and listen to recreationally. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Heroin”

[shintorikhazumi]

Romero and Julie (Act I: Truths and Lies)

A/N: Thought of it while I was looking up K-on’s romeo and juliet episode and accidentally typed “Romero”.

...I know i have so many wips, but this will most likely be a 2-shot or a 3. It’s not going to drag on that long. I think... I believe...

... I think...

...5 chaps at most?

Also, this story is as sloppily written as that search prompt, so I apologize. (I keep writing romeo as romero for some reason.) I don’t know how to write anymore, it seems. Also, I didn’t reread this for checks. Sorry again. I just... yeeted this out as soon as the last word was in place. Anyway,

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Two households, both alike in dignity,

   In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

   Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

   A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows

   Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

   And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which but their children's end naught could remove,

   Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which, if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to me-

“I can’t believe the utter bullshit I’ve just read.”

“Lady Claudine!” Mahiru gasped, unable to believe the words she’d just heard coming from the noble lady sat across her.

“Oh, come now, Mahiru. You can’t tell me you actually like this piece of work?” Claudine sighed, shutting the book and placing it on the table. She stared at the cover a few minutes more before pushing it away from her in disgust.

“Hmm? I don’t get it. It is a piece? And it is a work?” Mahiru’s escort cocked her head to the side in confusion, giving Claudine a look that requested clarification.

“Dame Karen.” Claudine sighed, resting her elbows on the table and propping her head up in her hands.  She ignored Mahiru’s wide eyes at her ill-mannered display and went on with her exchange with the female knight. “I’m saying it’s a terrible piece of work. Terribly inaccurate.”

“Ohhhhh. I get it.” Karen nodded, eyes wide, expression enlightened before it settled into a smile. “I think so too.”

“Right?!” Claudine thought her voice was a bit too enthusiastic there. Clearing her throat, she calmly reiterated. “Right? I actually had high expectations for this as many of the noble ladies I’ve come across recently have been flaunting their copies of the script. They even dubbed it as the ‘New Romance Bible of High Society’.” Claudine rolled her eyes. She would have made a gagging motion, but she was certain Mahiru would cry blood at that.

“Besides, I can’t believe they’d try to make a reference to my family name for such a piece, and even claim to have modeled the heroine after me when clearly, she is nothing like me.” Claudine continued to criticize. “Therefore, I have fair reason to dislike such a novel.”

“It’s not all that bad, is it?” Mahiru tried. “I managed to read up to half of it, and I believe it was alright.”

Claudine stared at her blankly. “I decided to give Junna the benefit of the doubt here, as she has been my long-time tutor and friend. I believe in her recommendations.” Claudine pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “So, I’ve read the book cover to cover.”

“Oh?”

“It was the worst decision I’ve ever made.” Claudine lamented. “Nana should have stopped her from picking up such a horrific title. I can’t believe she actually liked it enough to recommend it to me.”

“Maybe she thought it would be a nice read since it was about you?” Karen offered her opinion.

“Who would want to read about themselves in such a sad excuse of a tale?” Claudine played with her tea, swirling it in the cup. “Maybe if it was written more tastefully... Anyway, I can’t stand the book so maybe I’ll just give it away or use it for fire.”

“Madame Junna will feel sad to hear that, you know?” Mahiru sighed, taking a bite of her cake. “She might even cry.”

“No, she won’t.” Claudine chuckled with a wave of her hand, but then Junna’s face flashed a brief moment in her mind, and it made her pause in thought. “...right?” She wasn’t so sure all of a sudden.

“Lady Claudine... she sulked for three days when she’d heard you laughed during one of the most tragic plays of our generation.” Mahiru deadpanned.

Claudine’s brows furrowed, unable to recall the events that Mahiru was referencing.

“Que?”

“Remember? We went to Brighton theatre the other day?”

“...”

“Brighton?”

“Karen! You were with us too, you know!”

“Ah-”

Mahiru looked to Claudine excitedly. It seemed as though she’d finally remembered.

“That comedy skit Junna recommended?”

“Again, it was tragedy!”

“The one where the main character got shot after being stupid enough to not take a shield after he was advised to? The ‘A sword is mightier than a pen, but the sword is my...’ my...” Claudine thought hard, struggling to find the right words in her memory. “Something or other.” She gave up.

“Kuro-chan!”

Claudine grinned at the nickname, pleased that she was able to rile Mahiru up another day.

“Okay, okay. Enough teasing, I know.” She laughed, patting her friend on the head and gaining a blooming blush in return. “You were just too lovely, I couldn’t help myself.” She flashed a charming smile that made Mahiru burn even hotter, and made Karen pout.

“This is why you’re so... and nobles keep... hrmmrrgghh...” She grumbled. “And yet you complain about being crowded and you....”

“What was that, Dame Karen?” Claudine chuckled, eyeing her friend with an amused look.

“Oh, nothing really, Duchess Claudine.” Karen fired back.

“Hey now, don’t go spreading lies, my dear knight.” Claudine frowned.

“I speak no lies, milady. Everyone knows that you are the one who has been handling estate affairs as of late.” Karen spoke seriously all of a sudden, irking Claudine secretly.

She didn’t want to think of those things right now.

Before Claudine’s mood sunk further, Karen- with a quick flip of a switch- had returned to pouting. “And I’m not your dear knight.”

Oh, Karen could be so perceptive, sometimes. Claudine gladly accepted the bail.

“I know.” Claudine smiled, half-grateful, half-teasing. “You are Mahiru’s, right?” Claudine wiggled her brows suggestively. Karen flushed hot red, and Claudine thoroughly drank in her new target’s vexation in enjoyment.

“Kuro-chan!!”

Claudine admired the twin tomatoes in front of her. Life had been a drag lately, but time with her friends always seemed to offset all of those.

“Oh right. And Hikari’s too.”

Claudine broke into hysterics at the display of flailing arms and incoherent half-yells of denial at the mention of her knight’s name. She swore she could physically see the steam coming off of the pair in front of her. Was it from anger, embarrassment, or both? Probably both, Claudine supposed.

“Kuro-chan, you are seriously so mean.” Karen whined, fanning her face uselessly as the heat showed no signs of subsiding.

Claudine wiped a tear from her eyes. She’d laughed so much her sides were beginning to hurt.

“I’m terrible, aren’t I?” She smiled.

“That you are, Milady.” A stoic voice suddenly inserted itself into their conversation.

Claudine found herself jolting in her seat at its proximity from behind her. Whipping her head around, she sighed in relief at the sight of her escort.

“Hikari! At least alert us sooner if you’ve arrived!” Claudine complained. Her heart beat strongly against the palm she’d rested against her chest in an attempt to calm herself.

“I have arrived, Milady.”

“No, like I said. Say that sooner!” Claudine huffed, settling back into her seat, leaning her head on her palm once more. Claudine spared a glance at Karen and Mahiru who were looking rather bashful, eyes averted from the newest arrival.

She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the growing smile on her face as her knight stared at the pair across them. Claudine patiently awaited the usual awkward interaction between her friends that she knew would play out soon. She counted the seconds off in her head, knowing exactly when the first move would be made.

3... 2... 1-

Like clockwork, Hikari faced Mahiru and Karen head-on, straightened her posture, and bent into a deep bow of greeting. “Lady Tsuyuzaki.”

“Dame Kagura. It’s a pleasure to see you once more” Mahiru responded calmly.

However, Claudine caught the way Mahiru’s brow twitched. Her displeasure was skillfully hidden behind that gentle smile she’s known for forever, but Claudine would like to believe she’s adept enough at deciphering the true meaning behind Mahiru’s masks called grace.

She internally shook her head, hoping Mahiru could soon find the freedom to be free from the expectations laid on the lady known as ‘High Society’s Saintess’, and be able to express emotions outside of simple joy, kindness, or sympathy.

Turning to the other knight, Claudine waited for what Karen’s reaction for today would be. She had a variety for different days. Sometimes it was openly voicing her disappointment, and other times it was a response just as curt and detached as Hikari’s.

“Dame Ai-”

“Karen!” The owner of the name interrupted. “Just Karen. Karen is fine... H-Hikari...”

Oh? Today was a little more bold, Claudine noted. Usually Karen would only politely request the other knight to refer to her by her given name, even if it bore her title. This was a fresh attempt. Now, how would her dear knight react?

“Dame Karen.” Hikari stated blankly, completely unfazed by the hiccup in her usual greeting routine.

Claudine lightly slapped Hikari’s arm-earning her a confused yelp- before throwing Karen and Mahiru a consoling smile; one that told them there was always a next time to attempt to woo her clueless knight.

She watched Karen’s shoulders drop in a sigh, and Mahiru cover her relenting smile with her fan. She should talk to Hikari about this sometime again. For now, however...

“So? What goes on back at the manor?” Claudine took a sip of her tea that had now gone cold after she’d ignored it a while. With a minute flick of her finger, it grew warm in her hands and she smiled, hoping her friends hadn’t noticed.

She heard her knight groan from behind her. Quite a rare happening, to be frank. Hikari was usually very careful with her actions and reactions, so Claudine braced herself for some unpleasant news.

“Master Cyrille has finally arrived.” She reported dutifully.

Claudine somehow heard the frosty bite in her tone. It was understandable. Cyrille was her elder brother of four years, and the heir apparent to their household.

-Or that was how it was supposed to be.

He and Hikari never really got along after- ehem- certain incidents had taken place a few years ago. Those incidents also happened to be part of the reason why his successorship was being reconsidered at present.

“How did Pa- Father react?” Claudine caught herself before her small childish habit would be revealed.

Hikari scratched her cheek, another nervous habit of hers that Claudine had learned about after years of being together. “They had the usual debate. Right as he arrived.”

That was expected. Claudine knew something like that would happen. So why was Hikari so bothered.

“The young master came onto the premises yelling right away from the gate about being the rightful heir or something along those lines.”

This too was within Claudine’s foresight.

“I can’t believe he’s making a fuss on foreign land. We’re not here to start a war, we’re here as representatives of a peace treaty.” Claudine shook her head in disappointment.

Her family, the Capulets, had hailed from the Western empire and had been residing for a few months on Eastern lands. After hundreds of years of warring with the east, they had experienced the first fifty years of a truce. Finally, the two empires had decided to build friendly relations to completely cease all the needless battles between them. After fifty years of an ambiguous standstill, the emperors had finally decided to send forth representatives to celebrate the golden year of peace between them and cement the alliance of the nations.

As the grand ducal household located at the border of the empires, their family had naturally been selected. This was also the West’s acclaimed ‘reward for service in battle’ to their family who had always fought to protect the precious border.

Yes, all that struggle in history, and her brother might just be the one to render it all useless in one fell swoop.

Not that it would have been the first time.

“Anything else, Hikari?” Claudine could feel her headache coming on.

“They argued in the study.”

“I figured.”

Hikari still radiated nervous energy, and Claudine just had to wonder why. “What are you not telling me yet, Hikari?”

“... Master Cyrille kept pressing that he was the rightful hair to the Dukedom... then Your Grace was angered and said that... that...”

“Hikari?”

“You’re not going to like it.” The knight warned.

“Obviously not.” Claudine replied flatly. “From how you are at this moment, I’ve already figured that out.”

“The Grand Duke said he’d rather make you the heir... instead of Young Master Cyrille... so he wishes to speak with you back at the estate.”

Claudine’s eyes widened. She knew there was a possibility that this outcome would arise. She just didn’t think it was that possible. She had already voiced her stance on this in the past to her father. She was not willing to take over their family as head. She had other plans in life. Plans of freedom and of adventure; she had other desires that were probably not suited for a woman carrying royal blood.

Yet she longed for that particular life. Thus, she could not be the Duke’s successor. She’d suggested that her father give the title to their youngest sibling instead who was seven years her junior.

He might not be ready now, but he could still be groomed to be the perfect candidate in the future. She was sure Gabriel could do it, irresponsible as she may sound at that moment, pushing it all onto the child.

“Kuro-chan?”

Mahiru’s tender voice reminded Claudine that her friends were still there, quite worried that she’d suddenly froze on the spot.

“My apologies, Mahiru.” She got up, bowing deeply. “I know you’ve gone out of your way to prepare all of this for me, but-”

“Hey.” Claudine felt a warm hand on her cheek, guiding her to stand back up. Mahiru’s gaze was kind as it always was, full of tender empathy. “Go. A few tea and biscuits aren’t going to go to waste just because you’re not around.”

Claudine managed a small smile, taking Mahiru’s hand into her own two.

“You have Karen anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Hmm? What about me?”

The two young ladies laughed at their inside joke for a few moments before embracing one another goodbye.

Karen had offered one to Claudine as well, and she gladly accepted.

After being sent off with the best of regards and well-wishing, Claudine tried to not think on her dread the entire carriage ride home.

She just knew it was going to be a messy affair.

//-//-//-//-//

“Claudine.”

“Your Grace.”

The Grand Duke heaved a sigh, gesturing for his daughter to take a seat across from him. “I take it you’ve already heard from Hikari?” At the nod of Claudine’s head, he sighed once more. “I’m really sorry about that. I am aware that you do not wish to get involved in such dealings. However, I didn’t have much else to say. I could not think of any other argument at that moment.”

Claudine could see the exhaustion built up in her father. She felt bad for being so insistent on her own wants that she’d possibly pushed him up against a wall. However, she could not deny that this was the only path she was willing to take.

Taking her father’s hands and planting a kiss on them, she reassured him. “I understand, papa.”

“Claudine...”

“I am also at fault, anyway. I know you’re being pressured by the Royal family into a succession ceremony soon, and yet... I’m adding onto your troubles.”

“I just- I don’t understand why they are so adamant on it... yet at the same time I know why.” Duke Capulet’s expression turned stern. “I suspect this is the first prince’s doing.”

“Paris?”

The duke nodded, clearly unhappy at the mention of the name. “I don’t understand why your brother went against my guidance to not associate with him. The second prince would make a far better friend, as well as future ruler.” His frown deepened. “And yet, that imbecile, Cyrille...”

Duke Capulet brought Claudine’s hands to his forehead, bowing before his daughter.

“After all that fool, Paris, had done to you...”

Claudine shuddered at the memory of her days at the academy and the forceful ‘courtship methods’ of the first prince. Had her father been a different man, she feared she would have been long-engaged to such a twisted brat who hid behind a cunning smile and the power of the crown.

He was sure never to push too far, or too dangerously, but Claudine knew he was bordering terrible, terrible deeds. She was just glad she was far away from him now.

“Claudine.”

Her father lifted his head up, eyes saddened, but commanding in a sense as they stared into Claudine’s own. Claudine immediately knew that his next words would be incredibly important, that they would be of the utmost value to her and her life, as well as their entire household’s. She just knew that their weight would be something she would have to endeavor to bear for everyone’s sake.

She knew because he rarely ever asked her of anything that she did not desire. She knew that something must have happened to allow the Grand Duke to tremble in this way, before his nineteen-year-old daughter, with a gaze that was begging her to comply.

“You have to get married.”

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine swung her sword, ridding the area of the final beast and collecting its glowing core off the puddled ground. Handing the gem-like item to Hikari for safe-keeping, she slumped against a tree, sinking to the ground that dirtied her pants with mud that had formed from the night’s rain.

“Are you hurt, milady?” Hikari inquired, already rushing forward to do a thorough body-check for any injuries on Claudine.

“Nothing of the sort. Also, I told you not to address me that way while we’re out adventuring. What if someone found us out?” Claudine ran a hand through her damp bangs, grimacing at the repulsive feel and smell of blood and grime in her hair.

“My apologies.”

Times like these, Claudine wished she hadn’t focused too much on learning combat spells back then. She should have taken the foundational classes with Nana more seriously, and looked into metamorphosis magic sooner. She wouldn’t have to worry about issues such as being discovered then.

Better to start late then never, she supposed. She could only manage to change her hair and eye color, as well as clothes for a small amount of time for now, but she was working on changing her entire appearance for extended periods soon. Then she and Hikari could go off on any journey or mission without being recognized.

“Claudine?”

The soft calling made her smile. It was rare for her knight to address her so casually, and even rarer was the tenderness she allowed to escape in her voice. Claudine placed a hand on Hikari’s head, petting it lightly.

“Yes, Hikari?”

“Do you not want to get married, Claudine?”

The question wasn’t what she had expected. She hadn’t even told Hikari about her current situation yet. She must have listened in on the conversation secretly.

“If my dad had caught you...” Claudine laughed at the realization, shaking her head.

Hikari remained silent.

Claudine scratched her cheek, looking away from the knight’s expectant gaze. “It’s not as though I don’t want to.” She admitted. “I just...”

“Just?”

“I haven’t found a person I’d like to share that kind of joy with yet.” Claudine spoke with a loneliness to her tone that they both weren’t quite familiar with. “I haven’t gotten to know anyone who makes me want to experience that kind of relationship.”

Hikari didn’t seem to understand fully, but she nodded nonetheless. “Okay.” She decided not to push further, noticing her master’s discomfort. Instead, she held out a hand to aid her up on her feet.

“Thank you, Hikari.” For the assistance and for listening, Claudine said in her heart. “Shall we head back to the guild now? Wouldn’t want Cyrille to barge into my room first thing tomorrow morning and find it empty.” Claudine half-joked.

If Claudine knew her brother, which she did, she knew he’d have searched for her at the dinner table tonight already, but her father had likely made an excuse to keep him out of her hair ‘til morning. She already knew that he would want to speak to her on matters regarding the prince, or succession, or whatever it was he did that was likely no good.

If he ever got into Claudine’s room without supervision, she was afraid he’d stumble upon things he wasn’t supposed to, and would likely use it against her.

Her conversation with her father resurfaced in her mind. His words on finding a suitable partner, a suitor, and the reasons behind it were invasive, consuming her every thought.

Cyrille was trying to set her up with Prince Paris for some reason. He was willing to pull all stops to do so. It seemed that he had went ahead and made a proposal to the royal family under the authority of ‘Heir-apparent’ to the Capulet Dukedom. He’d sworn that once he was made Duke, she’d be married off into the imperial household as a way to strengthen the standing and influence of the emperor.

Whatever he had been promised to make him act so selfishly and vilely, Claudine didn’t even want to know.

As of now, he held no real power over her father. Neither did the first prince, in reality. Deep down, however, both Claudine and the Grand Duke knew there was more to this arrangement than two boys and their greedy egos being fed. He feared for the future.

With all they had already gotten away with in the past, Duke Capulet was suspecting that someone else held the strings to the puppets dancing to a tune. They had yet to know what gears were turning in a suspected grand scheme, but it must not come to pass. This was what their family feared the most, and why Claudine must not get involved with Paris.

In order to have a valid reason to reject such a candidate, she needed a better one. That was the part she had to play.

There was just one small problem-

“You there!”

A voice echoed through the shadow and mist of the forest, horse hooves stomping rapidly against the wet ground. Quickly, Claudine brandished her sword, pointing it in the direction from whence it came. “Hikari! Get behind me!” She commanded, left hand twitching in anticipation.

“Now see here, Milady. I’m the protector suppo-”

“Don’t move! Stay where you are and drop your weapons.” The voice commanded, a silhouette beginning to form in the distance.

“Like hell we’ll listen.” Claudine grumbled, sword still at the ready with a glow that traveled from its hilt to its blade.

“I’m warning you!” The voice echoed once more. “State your name and your business here. And don’t even think of trying to fight or escape.”

Claudine fixed her glare on the figure coming into the light of the clearing they were at, magic barely finishing its work of turning her hair black as Hikari’s shifted into a shorter cut. It was the best she could do at such short notice. Hopefully the night would be kind enough to be their mask and they wouldn’t be recognized afterwards should they escape successfully.

“Again, I order you to state your names and your business here, strangers. Are you not aware that these grounds belong to the imperial family?” The powerful stomping halted right in front of the women, a sharp huff from the steed sending them reeling back in disgust.

Finally, underneath the gaze of the moon, a figure cast in stardust light appeared before them, hooded cloak hiding the identity of the horseman.

“Who are you.”

Claudine continued to glower at the newcomer, unrelenting as she kept her lips tightly shut. Who was this person? Why had they suddenly been approached? This place was supposedly a mission ground for adventurers and hunters hoping to earn their keep by clearing out the ghouls and demons that infested this uninhabited land.

“Who. Are. You-”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Claudine spoke levelly through grit teeth, ready to slash at any given time should the newcomer move in a threatening pattern. “We’re only here on quest. Adventurers if you will.”

The cloaked man dismounted and walked up to Claudine, staring a few inches down at her. “Is that so?”

Claudine hated that he was even trying to intimidate her. Placing a firm hand on his chest, she pushed him away somewhat gently, not really wanting to potentially aggravate the already-tense situation. “Yes. That is so.” She confirmed, scowling. “For us at least. But what about you?”

Claudine eyed the man, watching for any suspicious movements. He returned the gaze, looking her up and down, searching her expression for signs of dishonesty. He seemed to have found nothing as his aura of hostility calmed drastically, and he sighed.

“I’m an imperial guard, patrolling.” As he said that, a sword was raised, still sheathed. Claudine was shown the imperial seal on the scabbard and she relaxed somewhat as the guard backed off with a small bow. “As I’ve mentioned before, these grounds are under the jurisdiction of the imperial household.”

“Apologies, sir. However, we were unaware of this fact as this place has been a known hotspot for adventurers for many years- or so we’ve heard.” Claudine explained, now sheathing her own sword.

“I understand.” The guard nodded. “I also apologize. While your statement held truth in the past, as of recent, this forest has been deemed more unsafe than it used to be. It’s not just magical beasts or ghouls that lurk these shadows now. Reports of spies, terrorists, and bandits trying to enter the capital via a newly discovered route through the woods have been reported, so we are at high alert.”

Claudine hummed, taking in their current situation. “I see.” Claudine nodded, agreeing to his words. She had expected these kinds of threats to arise as the peace treaty ceremony approached and more nobles from both empires flocked to the main city. It was an opportune moment to spark disaster, and even a civil war.

Good on the west to take quick measures.

“As such, I must ask for your identities to ensure the safety of all.”

Not so good for Claudine.

“I, er-”

“As you are adventurers- and I, of course, believe in your words, I would just like to see your identifications and know your names. It’s a quick process then I can let you go. That is... if you have nothing to be suspected of.”

Truthfully, she shouldn’t be as nervous as she suddenly was at the moment. However, there were a few issues with that request. For one, no one but Hikari, the Grand Duke, and the Head Guild Master of the Eastern Empire knew of her being an adventurer. She had been registered under special circumstances that had been agreed upon, and her issued permit in order to accept quests in the west was also an unorthodox arrangement, and very much a secret one.

When she’d first arrived at the guild hall, she was given an identification badge that also served as her permit like the rest of the adventurers. However, this did not contain her name at all. Instead, it only contained her registration code and where she had come from.

As a law-abiding citizen for the most part, she hadn’t ever needed to do much besides flashing the shiny trinket from a distance at other guards in passing.

This time, however, was different. She was certain that it would be scrutinized and most definitely questioned.

“You sure are taking an awful lot of time to simply identify yourself.” The stranger’s tone of voice was still calm, but his aura had shifted noticeably. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, not at all.” Claudine responded, proud that she’d managed to keep her voice steady. Reaching into her polo, she pulled out the chain that held her badge, presenting it to the imperial guard, praying that he wouldn’t check it as thoroughly as she’d feared.

“Um, excuse me. Why isn’t your name imprinted on it?”

‘Damn it.’

“Allow me to come clean.” Claudine spoke, instantly regretting her choice of words. It made her sound like she actually was someone to be wary of. She should conjure some believable alibi at least.

“Milady-” Hikari stepped forward, but was blocked with that same imperial-branded sword from earlier.

“It’s alright.” Claudine reassured before her knight could retaliate. One wrong move and they could actually be in jeopardy. Not only them, but the entire event of a peace treaty could lay to waste if they were not careful and would get found out.

“Go on.” Was the command.

“I’m actually...” Claudine licked her suddenly dry lips, thinking of how to say it. “I’m a daughter of a noble, and I’m operating under...  rather private conditions.”  

Okay, she hadn’t meant to be that truthful. If at all.

“How can I believe such a tall claim?” The cloaked man stepped closer to Claudine, now incredibly suspicious. “To which family do you belong?

Claudine had no time to secure a valid name, speaking the first that came to mind. “Sa-Saijou.” Another truth that would surely deepen her dug grave.

“Saijou? As in the Marquess Saijou?” She could almost shrink under that examining gaze. “I’ve never heard of or seen you before though.”

“I- I’m not his child, no. I’m a niece and I’ve been staying with relatives in the west. It was an arrangement made when I was very young, and I have only since been allowed to return here.”

‘Damn me and my inability to lie.’

“I’m sorry, as much as I’d like to believe you, I’ll have to take you with me for some questioning.”

No, no, no. This was not good. Claudine couldn’t risk more people prying into her identity. Also, she could feel the strain of her magic that was about to undo itself. She couldn’t keep up appearances- quite literally- for much longer.

“If you would come quietly.”

They had to bail.

“I’m sorry, but we-”

Suddenly, an arrow flew right by her head, barely grazing her cheek as sounds of multiple hooves and wolf-like growls filled the forest.

“Tsk.”

“Milady!”

“Stand back, you two.” The guard moved in front of them, sword drawn and aimed towards the origin of the arrow and sounds. Quickly, those same sounds began to shift and spread, as if circling them.

Claudine and Hikari quickly drew out their own swords, as the former launched a quick area check spell discreetly.

‘Twenty? No, thirty. Thirty men on horseback... at least ten hunting wolves.’

As Claudine weighed their situation, a harsh gust of wind came hurtling towards them, the hood on the imperial guards cloak coming off, revealing long brunette locks tied up in a ponytail.

The sight of such smooth strands on which the moon’s beams bounced off so gently almost made Claudine forget the gravity of their situation, eyes bewitched- captured- by stunning violet gems that she couldn’t believe she’d failed to take notice of before.

“It seems they have a mage in their midst.” The knight, now fully facing Claudine, addressed them. “I’m sorry to ask this of you after having suspected you; and while I still doubt your credibility, I would like to shamelessly enlist your assistance as of the moment.”

There was something in his gaze, in his entire beautiful expression, that compelled Claudine to know more, to say yes, to help him.

“Truly, you are quite shameless.” She grinned, head held high. “I would have done so without you asking.”

The smile she was rewarded with sent her heart into a frenzy. It wasn’t a handsome grin, no. Claudine took note that under the moonlit night, this man oozed a dignified beauty that was quickly distracting her from her mission at hand.

“You have my gratitude.”

Claudine nodded, willing herself to not stare for longer than necessary as she and Hikari took stance.

With their backs to each other, they stood in wait, counting down the seconds to their adversaries’ arrival. Claudine sighed ruefully as she felt her transformation spell fade, this instance confirmed as she glanced over at a now long-haired Hikari. She could just feel questioning eyes burning their gaze into her golden hair.

She was not looking forward to having to explain this too.

“What.” She spat, meeting the stare of her temporary ally, hoping no questions would come right now.

“Oh nothing. Just wanted to tell you something.”

“And that is?”

As she said that, gruff looking men arrived in the clearing, their disgusting smirks clearly indicated that they were looking down on the small group they’d surrounded.

Claudine was beginning to feel irritated. She hated being underestimated.

She barely caught the grin thrown her way as the guard launched himself at the group. She did, however, receive every single insulting word of challenge.

“Don’t hold me back now, Little Miss.”

Oh it was on,

“Insufferable asshole.”

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine did not frequent pubs. They weren’t her type of hangout spots. And while she wasn’t one for leisure cafe dates or tea parties with the other noble ladies, she did love the peace of libraries and the refreshing mountain creeks.

Needless to say, this place intimidated her more than any imperial guard could hope to.

“Not a good drinker?”

It wasn’t that. It really wasn’t.

If anything, both Claudine and Hikari were strong drinkers. Just not... public drinkers, she supposed.

“No.” Claudine sighed, taking a seat across the pretty man- damn, he was beautiful. Claudine would have almost mistaken him for a woman. He was tall, but not much taller than Claudine, and his voice wasn’t all too deep, so maybe she wasn’t wrong. Maybe.

“Then what has you so down, milady?” His tone of voice was playful, and Claudine knew she was being teased. He probably still didn’t believe in her whole ‘secret-noble-adventurer’ story.

“I’m just tired.”

“Hoh? Already? From that little excursion?”

Claudine growled, pounding the table with her fist. “Well, if someone would have just stayed out of my way while we were fighting earlier then-”

“Now, now. Don’t go blaming someone else for these kind of things, Young Miss. How are you ever going to survive as an adventurer if you blame others for your mistakes? Being able to take responsibility for one’s self is one of the most important traits in the field.”

Claudine clicked her tongue. She knew she was purposely being toyed with. “Shut up.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss.”

“And why the hell not?” Claudine’s glare went ignored as the man waved over a server to place an order.

Turning to her with that same smug smile that was equal parts gorgeous and incredibly annoying, the guard spoke. “Because I want to get to know you better.”

Claudine scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Starting with your names.” He clasped his hands together, resting his chin atop them. “I at least believe you are of some noble descent. If the silence of your companion, and her respect towards any of your earlier actions and decisions hold any significant hint to that.”

“Glad you’re at least that sharp.” Claudine huffed, putting up a mask to hide her inner thoughts that were struggling to come up with some alias for both her and Hikari.

“So. Names.”

Anything. Anything.

“J-Julie!”

Curse that damn book and the sudden memory of it!

Claudine inwardly cried as she gave away that piece of false information, even screwing up the actual name she was supposed to use.

“Julie... Saijou.” The brunette looked at her skeptically, but nodded. Somehow accepting it for now. “And your companion is?”

“She’s-”

“Kagura Hikari.”

“Hikari?!” Claudine whipped her head about in shock. So much for discretion! Just what was this girl thinking?!

“I’m sorry, Milady. But I think it is in our best interests to be as honest as possible.” Hikari bowed apologetically to Claudine before turning to her fellow knight, face blank and giving nothing away. “I am uncertain if you’ve heard of such details, but the Saijou’s have long since had ties with the Capulet family of the Western empire.”

Claudine covered her face with her hands, now groaning into her palms. She could only hope this wouldn’t ruin her already fragile freedom and put their positions at risk.

“They are the relatives milady has mentioned before. Her aunt married into the family, you see.”

Ah, so that was how Hikari was going to play it.

Well, maybe it wasn’t a bad excuse. Claudine believed the knight was considering any future encounters with the imperial guard since they would be attending palace events soon.

She spared the guard a glance, and was surprised to see that he actually looked to be convinced of those words. Not that they were much of a lie in the first place.

“I see! I understand. My apologies then.”

Claudine held back her sigh of relief, not wanting to give even the slightest thing away anymore.

“Yes, that’s it.” She said, trying to add onto their story. “And about the identification badge... well... you wouldn’t really expect any noble children, much less ladies, join an adventurer guild and all that.”

“I suppose so.” The guard chuckled.

Soon, their drinks had arrived, and Claudine found herself staring into the golden liquid the man across from her was downing to keep her eyes of his too pretty face, a question nagging on her mind.

“And you?”

“Hmm?” Placing his glass down, he gave her a curious, yet smug smile. “What about me?”

Somehow, Claudine wanted to wipe it off his stupid face.

“We gave you our names and background. It’s only common courtesy to introduce yourself properly in return, is it not?”

His growing grin was really pissing her off.

“Right, of course. Excuse me for my rudeness since earlier.”

“No kidding.” Claudine complained, waiting rather impatiently for his information. Not that she’d ever remember it, much less use the knowledge for any future plans. No. Not at all.

Not even for that.

“Hmm, well you could call me Romero.”

Romero.

Really, now. Romero?

Again, that damn book was really trying to force its way into Claudine’s thoughts. She internally cringed at the association.

“Romero. Of course that’s your name.” She rolled her eyes, not believing it for even one second. “You certainly look like a ‘Romero’.” She stated sarcastically. ‘Romero’ here looked as eastern as eastern gets.

“You wound me, Lady Julie. Can’t a man adapt a name of different culture simply because it suits him this much?”

“I didn’t say anything against it.” Claudine waved, taking a sip from her drink. It was cold, a little bitter. She liked it.

“Your expression says all there needs to be said.”

Claudine smirked, leaning across the table. “Oh? I’m glad it does then. Sir Romero.”

The man’s eyes glinted in amusement as he leaned forward as well. Claudine huffed. So this is how they were going to play it.

“So, Lady Julie. I said I’d like to get to know you.”

Claudine nodded. “Know all you want, then.”

“You say that so easily, but are you sure?” Really, this man unnerved her like no one else. His gaze was piercing, yet dull. It was clear, but betrayed no thoughts nor intentions of his.

Claudine nodded again, but a little less confident now.

“Then, if I may be so bold as to ask,” Romero began. “What business do you have here in the capital? Besides the whole peace treaty, I suppose. If I recall correctly, it is not a requirement for all nobles to attend, and I know the property of both the Saijou’s and Capulet’s are a ways away from here.”

Claudine swallowed a lump in her throat, wondering what she should say. “Isn’t it the greatest honor for any noble to be able to claim that they stood as personal witness to the changing of times?”

What a generic answer.

Bless Junna’s etiquette lessons that were coming to fruition.

“Ehh, how boring~”

Somewhat.

“Be that as it may, it’s the truth.” Claudine raised her glass back up to her lips, taking in more of that golden liquid.

“Is that so? Just that? Nothing else?” Romero pressed.

“That’s all I’m willing to divulge, Sir Romero.” Claudine said sternly, eyes ordering him to back down. Even for an imperial knight, wasn’t this a little too impudent?

“Fair, fair.” Romero responded, hands up in the air in surrender. “I must have overstepped my boundaries. My apologies.”

Claudine downed her drink, ignoring him for a moment.

“I’m simply curious. And to think, for the sole purpose of this event, you went out of your way to get an adventuring permit for quests from the main guild when you might only be staying a short while.” Romero continued to seek her gaze, peskily grinning in wait. “As an imperial guard, I’m just concerned, milady. It’s part of the job.”

Claudine gave him a blank look. Romero seemed unfazed.

“I just need a few more details for my report, that’s all. Something to make your story believable enough to not be sought out by other guards who aren’t as kind and considerate as me.” He winked to accentuate his statement, and Claudine threw him a disgusted look.

“If you were the least bit as considerate as you claim to be, you’d have been quiet for the last hour.”

“Harsh words, Milady. I only want to kno-”

“Milady is here to get married.” Hikari slammed her mug on the table, pinning her gaze on the troublesome man. “Now that you know, stop bothering my master.”

“Hikari!” Claudine didn’t know whether she should be touched at the intervention, or frustrated at the reveal.

“What a loyal guardian.” Romero complimented with a grin. “You’re the kind of escort the imperial palace would love to have.”

It was almost as if he were holding out bait for Hikari to take. Claudine didn’t like it.

“Excuse me, but Hikari is-”

“I belong solely to my Master. I serve no one else but her.  My loyalty has been sworn. Your words are kind, but they are not right. Not for me. I’m sorry.”

“Hikari...”

Romero and Hikari’s gazes remained locked in a contest, waiting for one or the other to crack first. Claudine watched on with concern. She hoped they wouldn’t get into any serious quarrel.

To her fortune, Romero finally broke. Broke into a fit of laughter, tears of amusement spilling that he quickly wiped away.

Claudine allowed herself to sigh in relief as she finally relaxed in her seat for the first time that night.

Romero finally calmed enough to begin talking again, much to Claudine’s chagrin. “Married. I see. Married, huh?”

Claudine narrowed her eyes at the amused man, scowl deep. “And what of it? Do you think I’m too unfit for such a maiden’s dream?” If he said yes, Claudine might just be tempted to chop a ball off or too. Tempting beauty of this man be damned. He should try to see if he could snag any lady after tonight.

“No, no. Nothing of that sword, Milady.” He smiled, settling down and emptying the remaining contents of his cup. “Just... Who is the lucky fellow to have caught such a strong-hearted beauty such as yourself?”

Claudine actually blushed at his words this time. Though she did curse her heart for being swayed so easily like that, and by this insufferable man, no less.

“There is... no man... or anyone at all.” She managed to say through grit teeth, slightly embarrassed at that truth that she had about zero suitors coming for her.

She was surprised to see that Romero looked genuinely surprised. It wasn’t some faux, mocking expression. He seemed sincerely shocked at the reveal that Claudine was as single as the lonesome sun in the daytime.

“No one?”

“Not one.”

“For someone as charming as you?” He blinked those big, violet eyes, honest and innocent-looking for once.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, good sir.” Claudine chuckled, actually finding Romero more endearing than annoying at that moment. A shocker for herself.

“I just can’t believe that no one would approach you or ask you. You.” He gestured towards her. “You’re appearance is definitely a win, but more-so is your personality.” He openly praised Claudine. “You are a lovely being. I’m not saying this shallowly. I truly mean every word, Milady.”

Claudine felt her heart warm a little at that.

True, she’s heard those words before from close friends and family. Said in a particular way that she just knew was honest. However, they knew her. They knew Claudine and how she really was. As for the other noble men and women she’d met, they had always seemed to presume things about her based on rumor and first impressions, never attempting to truly know Claudine enough to say compliments that Claudine could think to consider as truthful.

Empty laud, frivolous words, backstabbing comments.

A beautiful face, they said. A cunning mind. A brash personality, an unladylike disposition.

Claudine never claimed they were false, but they weren’t exactly accurate.

Just like that dumb book.

Why did Claudine feel so moved all of a sudden. It wasn’t as though Romero had said much more than others, now that she thought about it. She’d probably have already heard those utterances before. So why?

Was it his tone? The way he looked straight into her eyes with an unguarded sincerity?

Before Claudine could find the answers to her internal queries, the door to the pub burst open, a group of men tossing over tables, and harassing the nearest bar patrons, in search of something or someone.

Romero got up from the table, as did Hikari and Claudine, hands already on their swords, ready to swing.

Claudine’s eyes met with one of the men in front, and something seemed to click in the air.

A finger was raised and pointed right at her.

“Them.”

And they charged.

“Hikari!”

“Yes, Milady.”

The knight moved swiftly, positioning herself in front of Claudine to ward off those who targeted her master, buying Claudine time as she tried to infuse as much magic as she could into her sword and limbs. She didn’t have enough mana for an entire body enhancement as she’d used a fair amount up during the earlier hunts, disguise, and fights. She knew she had barely enough to spare. Just enough to hopefully end this.

She prayed it was enough.

Romero seemed busy as well, sword clashing against spear and blades, shields and armor.

He should be fine. Claudine couldn’t spare him much worry if she had to worry about herself first.

Other patrons had also joined in the fray, but it was clear that there was a difference in the power the intruders held.

With her amplifications complete, Claudine readied herself, and in one motion, swooped past a flurry of enemies, knocking them to the ground before a new wave could approach her.

Were these also among those that Romero had mentioned? Terrorists who had actually managed to enter the city? This wasn’t good. They needed to subdue them before more damage could be done.

Where were the other imperial guards anyway? Why was Romero even patrolling alone with such a dangerous agenda at hand?

She didn’t have time to entertain any of those questions, she decided. Claudine knew she had to focus on what was happening right now. Those could be saved for later.

Focus.

Focus.

Foc-

“Julie.” Romero called.

Claudine almost forgot that that was her name at the moment, barely managing to send him a confirming nod. “I’m a little busy, but what is it?” She responded, knocking someone over on the head.

“I just thought of something.”

Was it a plan on how to defeat all these men for efficiently? An easier way to protect all the innocent people from these terrorists? If so, Claudine was all ears. “Speak.”

“What about me? What about us?”

‘Huh?’

Claudine managed to throw him an incredulous look as Hikari kicked an attacker away just in time before he could touch Claudine.

“What about you- or us?” She asked, restraining another man with a single binding spell before taking away his consciousness.

“What if you...” Romero dodged a slash, countering with his own. Another masked man made a grab for him, but he easily turned the situation around, ending up on top of him, standing atop a few other bodies.

“I?”

“What if you married me?”

Claudine managed to smash a man’s skull against the wall just as she stared dumbfounded at the imperial knight who looked amazingly serious, and undeterred by all that was occurring around him.

Really?

“...Are we really having this conversation here? Right now?” Claudine questioned, movements fluid as she added to the pile of bodies behind her that were slowly being tied up and secured by a few free bar patrons.

“Yes? Why?” Romero replied nonchalantly, repelling a blow with his sword.

Claudine could not believe the audacity of this man. “Couldn’t it, oh I don’t know, wait until things have settled down?!”

“Couldn’t what wait?” Romero said clueless, stepping back from the force of one particular strike, approaching Claudine’s space.

“This talk!” She answered back, vexed.

“I’ll have you know I’m a hundred percent serious on this proposal. Despite its untimeliness.”

“And I can’t be serious thinking about it because there are so many things I have to consider. One of those being why I must reject your ‘serious proposal’.” Claudine growled as someone managed to hit her leg hard enough to cause her to go off balance.

Romero had caught her just in time, righting her and going back to his own fight. Claudine felt a little annoyed that he had so easily switched gears and was able to handle both his enemy and ally.

“Why ever not? It’s not like anyone else has made an offer?” Romero sounded disappointed.

Claudine really couldn’t explain it right now. Not in this situation, and certainly not as other people listened in.

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Just because!” Claudine yelled, sending one man up into the ceiling in uncontrolled temper.

“I need a concrete reason, milady. Else I’m unwilling to step down from this.” Romero laughed, continuing on with his battle as he and Claudine fought back-to-back.

“And I’m telling you we can talk about it later.”

“Just trying to tell you that I’m a very good candidate, Lady Julie.”

“No thank you, Sir Romero.” Claudine rolled her eyes, tossing another enemy away to the side.

“And that is because?”

Claudine noticed a quick shift out of the corner of her eye. The refraction of light off a blade gave her all the information she needed to calculate a countermeasure. With her feet firmly planted, she twisted her torso, channeling enough energy to deliver a speedy lethal blow into the attacker’s ribcage-

...and apparently also Romero’s who had decided to jump in front of her in a chivalrous attempt at saving her.

A wrong decision, clearly.

Both he and their foe dropped to the ground, on the obvious brink of consciousness.

Claudine’s mind flew into panicked disarray as she quickly knelt over her comrade, trying to think of how to help him.

“Romero! I’m sorry!!! But you’re an idiot!” She began to spout words out so quickly. “You should know that I’m a trained fighter. And why did you do that! You clearly saw what I was doing! This is why you shouldn’t interfere with my battles! Also what was with that sudden proposal in the middle of it all huh?! Are you trying to get us killed?!”

“Milady-” Hikari was at her side, trying to calm her as the fighting had finally subsided. Claudine’s vision however, was unexpectedly tunneled, worry apparent on her face as she desperately tried to aid the fallen knight.

“There’s a time and place for everything, Romero!” Claudine continued to scold, hands already taking on a healing glow. “You ought to be more mindful. And you claim you’re an imperial knight?!”

“Master Clau-”

“I fear for the empire if all the knights are like you. What, did you think you were saving me by placing yourself in front of me?”

“Stupid Romero. Now you’ve gotten hurt. You weren’t focusing at all, were you? And all for a silly proposal?!”

“Milady, I think he’s losing consciousness-”

“And you wouldn’t even let me explain why I clearly have to reject your proposal! I have very specific conditions, mind you. So don’t go mocking me once you hear them.

“Milady!”

“You see, I can’t accept your proposal because...” Claudine finally took a deep breath, a pause for once.  

Hikari tried to tell her that Romero had long since been knocked out, but Claudine couldn’t seem to hear her. At this point, she’d realized it would be better to give up and allow Claudine to settle down on her own.

Hikari only hoped her Master wouldn’t break down at the realization and the embarrassing memories to come.

“-I like women.”

“...”

“...”

Hikari sighed, finally seeing the truth sink in for Claudine as her eyes widened and her hands trembled in an emotion that was no longer just concern.

“... he heard nothing, did he?”

She was in for a long day tomorrow.

“Milady...”

A/N: Uh. I think I did my best atm. Yey. If you’re wondering why Claudine has eastern friends, and supposedly they go way back, as well as why her knight is also from the east, well... see you next ep! Or I think next next chap? Ma- er, Romero needs a turn.

Also, before ppl complain to me about genderbending or making this mlw, I’m not one to mis-tag something. Just saying.

I apologize for OOC-ness

Also I’m just... really tired. I wanted to amuse myself by writing something silly or like... unusual-ish. Idk.

Meh.

~Shintori Khazumi