#and YS is the ONLY book where something like this happens

[yuridovewing]

i will say though that i reject ravenbarley being a problematic ship bc "he showed up in yellowfangs secret so he should be way older than ravenpaw" bc yellowfang's secret is a shitty book that makes no sense and i think we should all declare it as noncanon

[booksandwords]

The Daughters of Ys by M.T. Anderson. Illustrated by Jo Rioux

Age Recommendation: Tween and up Art Style: Pencil style (digital) Topic/ Theme: Family, Loyalty and Repercussions Setting: The city of Ys on the coast of Brittany

Rating: 4/5

The first thing that you probably need to know about this is the thing that is written last in the book, though it was written in the blurb as well. "Daughters of Ys is based on an ancient Breton folktale.". Brenton is something of what became French, the land itself was in Brittany (aka Wales and part of England). All the existing version of the folktale provided by Anderson are in what appears to be French. This is relevant only because this all means it is not something that Anderson just made up. Also, it makes Rioux's art decisions fantastic, the style and colouring are well suited to indicate that it is an aged piece. It's not something new. This is a good way to story and I could see it being used in a number of ways in educational institutions (sorry that is my high school librarian side talking).

The Daughter s of the Ys tells the story of the two titular daughters of Lady Malgven after her death, Princesses Rozenn and Dahut. It starts with their father, King Gradion recalling their unusual meeting and coming together to Malgven's death and her gifts traits inherited by her daughters. "Rozenn, my eldest, to you she gave her love of wild things and lonely places... And to you Dahut her love of wonders and miracles". It is here the problems start. in a single person those are well-balanced traits, but practical sense they cause the sisters to have opposite world views. We meet the sisters as children but for the most part, they are young women of indeterminate age living vastly different lives. Princess Rozenn in the moors with the people and the wild things coming to court only when absolutely necessary as the future Queen, Princess Dahut the popular and necessary to impress court lady. The story is Dahut and their mother's secret unravelling in the most violent way possible and what happened next. It is a well-paced and written piece that makes good use of the art to tell the story where words would be too much.

Because the art is integral to the storytelling here it had to be done well. And it was that. It pulls you in. As already said the style suits the setting, the people look right, the art does not look modern if that makes sense. All the main character are distinct, which I find can be an issue in some graphic novels. Not only are the characters distinct the different worlds that Rozenn and Dahut inhabit their different lives. And it shows the changes in their worlds as they get darker. All in all, it's just a beautiful book, that is definitely work a read if you like historical works or graphic fiction.

[alloftheimaginess]

Wired Autocomplete

Other parts

Jared Padalecki

Alexander Calvert

Jensen Ackles

Ys = Your sign aka your zodiac sign

Bd = Birthday

Ht = Hometown

Sn = Sister’s name

Yh = Your height

"Hi I'm Yn Collins and this is my Wired autocomplete interview" I say smiling and I get thrown a card and I hold it up.

"Is Yn Collins" I say pausing.

"Dumb?" I say laughing and I pull the first one back.

"Is Yn Collins going to comic con" I read and I look up.

"Actually yes I am you can catch me there everyday, I'll be at the Supernatural panel when I'm not at my own so if you weren't able to meet me at mine you might be lucky and meet me at my husbands" I say looking back at the board.

"Is Yn Collins" I read pulling it back "adopted" I say looking up and I nod.

"I get this a lot so I'll explain here so people can continue to ask later down the road" I say laughing

"So my parents split up when I was 4 and my dad remarried my stepmom and she adopted me like made me legally hers and then my dad divorced her and went to jail so then I stayed with her and she remarried and she's legally my mom because she adopted me and her husband who I consider my only father is her husband" I say laughing explaining it the best I can.

"Is Yn Collins a" I say and I pull it back "a Ys" I read.

"Yes I am. I was born Bd" I say moving on, making it the shortest response.

"Is Yn Collins" I read and I start laughing "these make me nervous" I say laughing "Volt. Oh yeah, it's a character that I play in the marvel franchise. She started off bad but not really bad just misunderstood" I say nodding and I pull back the last one.

"Why is Yn Collins famous" I read "It all happened when I decided to audition when I was 7 and my husband" I say smirking "I'm just kidding not because of him" I say throwing the card getting another one.

"Where did Yn Collins" I read pulling it back "grow up" I read "I grew up in a million places lol, my dad was in the military so we moved often. I can name 9 places I lived. But before all that I grew up in H/t" I say.

"Who are Yn Collins siblings" I read. "I know you guys only googled this to see if Lily Collins would pop up which she didn't, we played adopted siblings in a movie and because of our chemistry and names everyone assumed we were actually siblings. But to answer this question I'm the oldest of four who's last names aren't Collins because that's my husbands last name" I say laughing, pulling the last one.

"Was Yn Collins" I read pulling it back "on glee" I read laughing.

"I also get this question often. That was my little sister Sn, we look super similar so at one point everyone struggled to tell us apart but yes she was the one on glee not me" I say.

"Does Yn Collins sing" I read "yes all the time. Who doesn't sing" I say laughing.

"Honestly at this point in my life I never stop singing" I say looking up at the camera.

"Misha tells me to shut up all time, I'm a nervous singer so when I'm anxious or nervous I hum, sing all of that" I say laughing.

"Did Yn Collins and Chris Evans date" I read "no, we just hang out like a lot. We've been making movies together since I was like 14 so he's just my best friend" I say laughing playing with the last cover.

"Did Yn Collins get married" I read laughing. "Yes that's why I'm called Collins" I answer. "Is this actually a question people google enough for it to pop up?" I ask shaking my head. "But yes I did my husband is Misha Collins. He's this really hot guy who plays an angel named Castiel on supernatural" I say pointing to the camera.

I throw the card and I catch the one that gets thrown to me and the first one has my avengers character name on it and I laugh. "Who is Audrey Patterson aka volt" I read "Aubrey Patterson is a woman who grew up in the south until she got her powers when she was just a wee tween and she was shipped away to live with her grandparents in New York" I say looking at the card.

"Is Aubrey Patterson and Sam Wilson friends in real life" I read "Mackie is my guy, when I first came onto the Captain America scene he was the first person who I hadn't met before to welcome me with opened arms" I say.

"Is Aubrey Patterson" I read and when I pull the tab back it pulls off the words "I guess we'll never know" I say laughing.

"Is Aubrey Patterson the youngest in the Captain America movies" I read "yes I am" I say laughing and I toss the board to the side.

"I'm almost done and I'm sad, I never want this to end I want to answer google questions all day" I say grabbing the board "can Yn Collins speak any other languages" I read.

"Three and a half" I say.

"Can you say something in all of the languages you know?"

"Yeah of course" I say nodding.

"Bonjour je suis avec câblé aujourd'hui" I say.

"Ik zal je vragen beantwoorden" I say raising a brow trying to see if I said that right.

"Don't come after me Dutch fans I'm sorry I'm still learning it's the half language I know" I say.

"Ich bin buchstäblich ein offenes Buch" I say smiling at the camera.

"Začnime" I say.

"What did you just say?" He asks.

"I said hello I'm with wired today and I will answer all of your questions, I'm an open book so let's begin" I say holding the bird back up.

"Is Yn Collins one of the best actresses of our generation" I read "literally I don't even know if I can properly answer that because naturally I'm going to say no because I work with a lot of amazing women so no" I say moving on.

"Who does Yn Collins look like?" I read "hmm, my sister like I said, my ten year old but she looks more like Misha than she looks like me but that counts. But definitely my eight year old son, he looks dead on me and my twins" I say smiling at the camera.

"What are Yn and Misha Collins" I read pulling it back. "kids names" I say.

"My oldest is Elodie, my second oldest is named after his dad so Dmitri, then the twins Maren and Mavis and then my youngest Farren" I say smiling at the camera because any time I can talk about my kids I'm in heaven.

"Is Yn Collins an alumna" I read "yes I am, I graduated from New York school of arts" I say.

"How tall is Yn Collins" I read "good question" I say laughing "I want to say about Y/H, in that area, just about" I say looking at the next one.

"How did Yn meet Misha" I read "aww" I say smiling "I love talking it about this a lot more than I actually should" I say.

"The year was 2009 and I was at comic con for Avatar" I say.

"He was there for his first comic con ever and we were next door neighbors and I got locked out of my room and my purse and everything were in there and I couldn't get a copy of my room key without my identification so I knocked on his door and the most attractive man I've ever seen opens the door in just a towel and I'm like lost for words at first and then he let's me in and enter through his room and we talked and hung out that whole weekend and 9 months I had Elodie" I say giggling.

"How long have Yn and Misha Collins been married" I read "nine years, we got married after Elodie turned one. Almost ten years" I say smiling at the camera.

"Is Alex Calvert Yn and Misha's kid?" I read laughing.

"How old do you guys think I am?" I ask laughing even harder.

"Also that would make no sense for obvious reasons but to answer your question no Alex is not either of our kid, separate, together, adopted" I say giggling.

"His wife is actually one of Misha and I's best friends, we've known her since she was like 14" I say.

"She actually named their first kid after Misha and he let's that go to his head because he has two people named after him" I say laughing.

"Is Yn Collins closer to Jared or Jensen's wife" I read.

"I'm super close to both and I love them to pieces but I do hang out with Jensen's wife more, we always go to lunch whenever we're together, and we always ride with each other to the airport when Jensen and Misha fly in together so I guess I'll just say her because we hang out more" I say shrugging.

"But like I said I love them both so much and equally" I say.

"Is Yn Collins pregnant" I read and I start laughing "you guys are good. But yes I am, 20 weeks today. We just announced it before I came in today so" I say throwing the card.

"I'm Yn Collins and this has been my Wired autocomplete Interview" I say smiling at the camera and blowing a kiss.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

This thing's existence is to be blamed on @anonymouscake you gave me too much inspiration to write this

After the exams were taken and returned to williams to grade them, all the eyes were in him

"That would be our class for today, we have a few minutes but start packing" William started stacking the exams. After not seeing any of the students start moving or packing he couldn't help but wonder if they truly remembered their bet "you can start packing, we will see again after holidays"

"Teacher! You promised" one of the students chimed in

" Yeah! You owe us a story. To think our teacher wouldn't honor his word" other student agreed

" You truly remembered, didn't you? I still have to grade this. So unless you want to be late to your next class I will see you after Christmas" nobody moved " well?"

" Your class is our last" those words made him stop

" No, you have modern literature with mister johnson" williams returned to stacking the exams " did you finish, mister Adams?"

" Professor johnson had an emergency last moment and couldn't find a replacement in time"

" You are awfully insistent" he sighed softly " if you wait for 5 minutes I can grade your exams"

Everyone stayed in place and William started grading, after a few minutes of silence William stood up

" The results of your exams are…" Williams didn't calculate that his bribery would make such a big effect "outstanding. If I knew a story was all I needed to make you study I would have started a long time ago "

Cheers resonated in the classroom. All their efforts didn't go to the trash.

" Average 96.5" he didn't truly want to tell so much about his love life, but a man doesn't back away from a fair bet" well, what story do you want to hear now?"

The room got filled by silence and now the true question arises, what story? Maybe their wedding, or their first kiss. But at the end they decided on their engagement.

" Our engagement? It officially started around 7 years after our meeting, I was 21"

" So you married at 21? Your marriage must be pretty old by now" said a voice in the back

" Mister stone, if I might know, how old do you think I am?" No one dared to breathe, less say anything " I am waiting mister stone"

" Your latmiearly thirwenties?"

" I am not going to bite" followed by a laugh " 24 years old. That is my age. Now where were we?"

" Who are you writing that letter to?" The now young girl of 19 wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling against it

" Your father"

" Why? Do you want to have a business meeting with him"

" You could say so"

" If so I could have said him directly, my dad quite likes you. It will be faster"

" Still, it would sit bitter in my mouth to not do this as it is customary to"

" Is it really a serious meeting isn't it?"

" Nothing bad happened, don't worry about it" William patted her head, laughing softly.

" Stop treating me like a child! We only are 2 years apart!" The girl protested. Now sitting on a chair behind his desk

" Yet still you behave as a kid" William teased without stopping writing

"Hey!"

Before they could keep quarreling louis entered the room

" Here is the tea"

" Thank you louis!"

" Thanks brother. If I could ask you to do a little favor could you send this to the mail?"

"Yes, of course"

" I really appreciate it. Now, should we have tea?"

"Eeeh! Professor moriarty sent his engagement letter without telling his wife?!" A student cut William

" maybe they talked about this beforehand? And this was some kind of surprise? Maybe her father is strict about who will marry his daughter?" Another student theorized

" I think it is a good theory" another agreed

" If you wanted to hypothesize about my life you might as well not have asked"

" Sorry professor"

" For context, YN, My wife, was going to get married to another noble-" William tried to explain but was cut again

" So you were jealous! I didn't peg you as that kind of man"

" I-" William Inhaled before deciding to not say the total truth, in fact the noble had a record of all his wives dying weeks after marriage. But ignorance was bliss " yes, I was jealous" he indeed had a little attraction towards you, but brushed it off more often than not.

Mister YS gave him a meeting. The door seemed to be heavier than usual,as if it was tempting him to go away, but he already set his mind on it.

He steps into the room, the lights on even if the aura of the room was far to gloomy for it to match

" William, son, do you know what you sending this letter mean?" your father sat straight in his chair, as if he was really to catch his prey

" I am pretty sure I know what it means" leaving his case by his sit he sat down " I want to get engaged with YN"

Taking a huff of his cigarette your father continued " you are a bright young man I'm sure you catched on to general merryland wish to marry my daughter. What is your counter for that"

" The general merryland has had 10 wives in a period of 1 and a half years. All of their deaths of mysterious circumstances. I fear her marriage with the general may cause her assesination"

" Kid, as much as I might love my daughter the general won't take a 'I think you might kill my daughter' for an answer". He is an influential man, he can't risk to anger him"

" But he might take an "apologies, my daughter is already engaged, we were yet to announce it"

" The general is a man who is well known and has reasonable wealths and reputation, if you blamed him for murder it would make us lose face, and is well settled too. You on the other hand, just settled and started working as a professor of university, what can guarantee my daughter to live well with you? Give me ten reasons to let you get engaged"

" I knew you were going to say something like that, I bought my finances book with me,you may judge if it's enough or not" even if he was playing innocent he knew the wealth he managed to hoard was a bit too nice for his age " plus, wasn't the general going through a bankrupt? His family business hasn't been talked about a lot lately" planting the seeds of doubt is an important part of his plan, if not the most.

" One reason down. nine left."

"So you tried to get him to let you get engaged for three hours, I can see how he let you, if my future in-law tried that I would give in too" a few students agreed

" It was tedious and long, I will have to admit. But it was worth it" admitted William.

" Then, how did you break the news?"

" I originally wanted to do it with the two of us alone. But it wasn't possible…"

After getting her father's blessing, now the only thing left to do was to wait for YN to go come to the state and break the news privately.

" Brother? What are you doing?"

"Oh? Nothing louis, I'm just waiting for YN to arrive to have tea"

"Then I shall put the kettle on" Louis was about to leave but noticed the bouquet on the table" brother you bought her flowers?"

" Yes. You will understand soon enough"

" I am off to the kitchen"

The fragrance of the flowers William brought was quite strong, intoxicating if you must. If you asked albert he would say they smell disgustingly sweet

" William, I haven't seen you at lunch, where were you?"

" I was at a meeting, albert. It was of dire need to have it as soon as possible"

" Who did you have a meeting with?"

" YN father"

" Mister YS? Why was it? If I might know"

" You will know soon enough"

" Then, I'm off to check some papers, I will skip tea."

A few minutes went on for you to arrive, in that moment William had everything ready for it to go smoothly. Everyone was busy, albert with his paperwork and louis had already brought the water but still had some chores to do so he would let you two alone for a while

" Liam!" The girl came almost running to him and hugged his torso "You haven't invited me in a few weeks, were you mad at me"

" Not at all" he brushed some bangs that came out of their place " I had to sort a few things out"

" That makes me happy"

"Should we go and have tea"

" If you want to"

After some idle chatter and small chat he thought it was the right moment

" YN" he calls you while sitting up to kneel in front of you " I already got your father's blessing but the word that matters the most is yours, so what do you say, will you let me be your husband in a future" taking out the engagement ring

The sound of copper hitting the floor snapped you out of your bubble

"I-"

" Louis, I see you finished all the housework"

" I just wanted a minute for ourselves" the girl lamented before noticing albert holding a few papels behind louis " if three wasn't plenty. well, they were both going to know soon so I guess it doesn't matter that much" she stood up after taking the ring and putting it on the correspondent finger" I was going to give you this in your birthday, but I guess I could give this now" she said before handing a cigarette case with a few designs engraved. " Father told me to return early so I must get going. Let's talk again soon"

" So Teacher does mess up sometimes"

" I don't truly think it was his fault, how was he supposed to know they were there" argued a back row student

" You got what you wished for, now go to your houses it is late and your families must be waiting for you"

The whole classroom started to run towards the exit. While a chorus of " Merry Christmas teacher!" And " see you soon" flooded the room. even if he liked to teach sometimes it was exhausting.

[extrovertedlyintrovertwriter]

[ PART 2]

[ You Are Only Mine]

Warnings:- it's long otherwise none.

Pairings:- Male Reader X Jongho

After 1 year:-

Author's POV:-

You and ATEEZ have become really close friends and to be more specific you got more close with Jongho.

Ever since you saw ATEEZ fellaz video on YouTube you had fallen for Jongho. But seeing him and talking with him in real made you fall for this guy even more.

Jongho basically received special treatment from you, which made other guys jealous. They would pout whenever you would bring his favourite takeout but not theirs.

Other members knew that you liked Jongho and being a straightforward person in these matters you admitted that you really like him.

One day you were at their dorms just hanging around there for a few moments. Your eyes widened when you saw him come out of bathroom in that tank top with a pair of shorts and a towel around his neck.

He furrowed his eyebrows because usually when he was around, you would not waste even a single second and hug him.

So he just randomly asked "no hugs today? Did I do something wrong? You mad at me?" You then realised and went to hug him.

You could feel his strong bare shoulders and his after shower scent. You again unconsciously murmured "I like his scent, it calms me down."

He then pulled away and asked "Do I smell that nice or are you trying to say that I usually stink?" You blushed at his words and smacked his chest.

It was just a romantic moment, your guys faces were inches apart and he was leaning in slowly to reach your lips.

But damn. What are friends for? They literally ruined the moment when Wooyoung coughed and that happy moment of yours was broken again.

You just stepped away from him, both of you blushing hard once you realised what you guys were about to do and he murmured a small "sorry" and left the room.

HJ:- "Looks like someone is a sucker for tank tops-"

WY:- "with a bonus of shorts-"

YH:- " towel around his neck-"

MG:- "And WET HAIR"

You blushed hard at thier teasing and they let out an adorable aww.

It was weekend with you guys all cuddled up on the couch for your movie marathon.

In the middle of the 3rd movie, it struck you that there was a carnival at Jeju for fall. You offered this to guys and they gladly accepted.

The next thing you knew was that you guys were on your way to Jeju, booking a room to stay too.

Guys had made a seperate group excluding you and Jongho. They were planning on making Jongho confess to you. They knew it wasn't an easy one since he doesn't show his feelings often.

By 2pm you reached Jeju and went to your respective rooms. Around 5pm you went to the carnival and just did some shopping since you guys were really exhausted with traveling.

Welllllllll......the next day was a BANG. You guys were out since morning and by the time evening fell you went to the games section. You saw a cute plushie in the claw machine and told Jongho that you wanted it.

It was the moment you told him and the next second he was at the claw machine, trying to get it for you. FINALLY, after the 5 try he got you that plushie and you squealed while hugging him and kissed his cheek. Dude. He froze there turning red.

Guys were already ready to tease both of you till no end.

YS:- "Woah woah woah, Jongho seems to have the time of his life."

YH:- "Of course. He got his cheek kissed with the most precious person of his life. So why won't he?"

HJ:- "Don't forget the hug buddy. He loved thta one part too."

SH:- "Okay okay okay..let's stop teasing and play some more games."

Then he literally played every game to prove that he was good at everything. Members had planned a confessing session for you at the end of the night.

There was this fireworks show you all had decided to go to, so you got yourselves some snacks to munch on while watching the beautiful designs of the crackers with 8 crackheads.

But the boys had something else planned for both of you.

Jongho's POV:-

I saw Hongjoong coming up to me running. He came and gave me the key card of y/n's room.

JH:- "why are you giving me y/n's room card?"

HJ:- "There's something in y/n's room. You gotta see it." I didn't question anything but just looked at him confused.

HJ:- "Just go. You will find a note on the bed and do accordingly."

JH:- "Okay hyung."

End of Jongho's POV.

Authour's POV:-

Hongjoong then called Seonghwa and told him that he has already sent Jongho to your room.

Seonghwa then called the staff and asked if he has reached your room and once he got the reply as yes, he went to you in order to finish his part of work.

End of author's POV.

Y/n POV:-

I saw seonghwa hyung coming up to me.

SH:- "we can't find Jongho."

Y/n:- "what? Wasn't he supposed to be with the rest of the maknaes?"

SH:- "He was. But then he said he wanted to go to washroom and didn't return."

Y/n:- "Then let's go find him. You-"

SH:- "Take these. These are the key cards to all of our rooms. I'm supposing you have yours with you." I nodded at his question and then he continued.

SH:- "Check all the rooms with these cards and if he's there in any call us and let us know. Okay?"

Y/n:- "it's done then. I'm leaving to check the rooms and you check the rooms."

SH:- "okay. Call me if you find him."

I nodded and we left our own ways.

End of your POV.

Jongho's POV:-

I reached y/n's room and was shocked when I saw the room decoration. Then I went to the bed and saw a letter. Hongjoong hyung told me to open that letter and read it.

The letter read:-

"jongho-ya, this all of the decoration is made for you to confess to y/n. Finally it's the time to do so, before it's too late and then you end up regretting your decision of never confessing to him. All of us can see that the feelings are mutual. Just go and confess. He will be there any minute.

Good luck maknae.

Hongjoong."

End of Jongho's POV

Authour's POV:-

As soon as he finished reading the letter, he heard the room's door swing open and saw you standing with tears in your eyes. You just ran to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace while sobbing.

Y/n:- "where were you? You know how scared I was when Seonghwa hyung told me that they couldn't find you? What if something would've happened to you? Do you even know how much you mean to me?"

Jongho's eyes shot up and popped out of their socket as soon as the last sentence left your mouth. He meant a lot to you. He ment something to you. But before he could say anything you said:-

"I LOVE YOU JONGHO."

He just stood there shocked, not uttering a single letter out of his mouth. But then he himself doesn't know from where he found the courage to kiss you. But he just did.

You kissed him back and your guys lips moved in a perfect sync. It was going somewhere else, but then soon you heard the door knob twist and saw the 7 boys piling inside your room.

Jongho didn't even give them more than a glance and just rested his forehead with yours and said:-

"I LOVE YOU TOO. YOU ARE ONLY MINE. ONLY MINE." And again leaned in to kiss. But after a few moments, the 7 boys coughed interrupting both of you.

MG:- "Go and get a room you guys."

You just smiled and again hugged each other. The other boys were smiling, happy that you both finally got together.

Heyyy guysss!!!! I'm so sorry this came out so late. But here's this. Hope you all like it. Thanks @mrsunshine999 for requesting.

Hope you guys like it. I'll stop bragging.

Requests are open. So keep requesting.

Peace ✌️✌️

Admin K

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[beneaththebrim]

what are your favorite mxtx ships overall?

I’ll split this up by book:

SV:

I am incredibly soft for liushen,,, incredibly,,,,, I’ve probably lushly imagined like 5 liushen fics in my head that will never meet the light of day just because thinking about them without the labor of writing them down is part of the comfort xD

I like the gremlin energy of moshang and the angst of qijiu, but liushen is definitely my fave SV ship. I also enjoy the idea of the harem sans b/nghe just having a grand ol’ time together. Oh, and 🥒 ✈️ has excellent comedy potential, I think–their ship dynamic is basically just literal fandom wank xD

MDZS:

Love wangxian. Especially from LWJ’s pov. Also love nielan–that’s a comfort ship much like liushen for me, but with more angst. I’m an eldest sibling, so I really like the chemistry of nielan shouldering responsibilities as they grow up and supporting one another as best they can.

Let’s see, other than that I also enjoy YZY/Madame Jin. I like lesbian ships with WQ, although I tend to pair her with OCs, bc I feel like the chemistry isn’t quite right with the other female mdzs characters. I could see her and Mianmian, but haven’t thought much about it tbh.

I like songxiao, wish there were more content for them. CQL turned me on to xiyao and nieyao, but I’m honestly on the fence with them, generally only read something with those pairings if I like the fic author’s other work. I’m okay with xuexiao as an angst pairing, but I’m v picky about that ship’s content.

TGCF:

Oh boy, I have a lot of favorite tgcf ships. This is also a different situation, because I actively write tgcf fics, so I have less distance–I’m simultaneously more passionate about certain characters, and more picky about their treatment. Anyway, here goes:

Lately I’ve been very much on my junmei shit (yes each of those links goes to a different fic), and I’ve written a meta about why I like them. That being said, I’m picky about characterization–I really don’t like Jun Wu being a dom daddy, for one.

YUWEN! (That’s LW/YS) I think they have a lot of enemies-to-lovers potential, and I think YS could provide a lot of stability for LW. See this post by @thisworldgodonlyknows which discusses the foiling between LW & YS. At some point I am planning to write a postcanon getting-together longfic for them, where they fight over mentorship of the person who is destined to be the next Wind Master.

God I love beefleaf… I have written a 128k postcanon fic for them, btw, if anyone’s looking for a slowburn fic with heavy plot and lots of feels to read while cooped up at home :P I also wrote a lil essay about why I like them here. This is another ship, however, where I am a bit picky about characterization–for fics that are canon compliant, I don’t think it should be very easy for them to get back together–my own fic involves SQX reincarnating into an OC for it to happen, for instance.

I like hualian, but I tend to view tgcf as a closed loop for them–they’re all nice and resolved, so there’s not much I have to say about them, y’know? Usually when I write stuff about them, it’s either smut or more about their relationships with other characters.

Also, plug for my pet rarepair: Muyin, ie. MQ/YY. Hear me out:

2 salty & judgmental boys

Parallel unrequited crushes on half of hualian

Frustration when people don’t follow advice

YY learns to accept his judgmentalness, MQ learns tact

They write a burn book together (with some help with LW, of course 😌)

I would like to write a postcanon Muyin longfic at some point, although I’ll have to have a lot of momentum for it since I’ve basically invented the ship 😅

Other ships: I’m fine with 3 Tumors and fengqing, but generally prefer them being just friends, and only really ship them in crack settings.

Hmm, think that’s it! Thanks for the ask ^^

[obviouschild2014]

I just saw that video of joanna newsom on my dash and. well I'd heard her name before but never heard her music and I was entranced... just put that video on repeat and then went down the rabbithole of random youtube videos of live performances....I am in love. so thank you for making that happen for me. and if u have any recommendations of like her quintessential stuff that i Must hear....i'm all ears 👀

OKAY FIRST OF ALL thank you so much for sending me this you have no idea how happy it made me. i read it out to my whole family who all rolled their eyes as a group it was great. I know EXACTLY how you feel right now bc story time story time i used to really not like jnew. seriously i didnt vibe with her at all. but then one day something just clicked into place and now i cant live without her. good intentions paving company came on shuffle and she sang ‘baayybee’ and i went oh i get it now and also im in love with you. and the ensuing first dive into the rest of her music was so much fun. 

i grew to love her in waves because i basically went album by album. and i started with have one on me which i think a lot of people consider to be her most accessible album because the songs arent crazy long and deal with pretty grounded subject matter and her voice was less comparable to lisa simpson which i know freaks ppl out when they havent Seen the Light.

When it comes to quintessential though, I think a commonly held perspective is that Ys is THE jnew album and for good reason. having a song by song listen through of Ys rly is an experience.

Okay when thinking about individual songs though i picked a couple from each of her albums and i really limited myself bc i wanted to pick everything but heres what really jumps out to me as important on each album.

Milk-eyed mender: sprout and the bean, the book of right-on, ‘en gallop’ peach plum pear

Ys: emily, only skin

Have one on me: have one on me, good intentions paving company, in california, go long, does not suffice

Divers: sapokanikan, waltz of the 101st lightborne, divers, time as a symptom.

But if i were to selfishly give you my personal favourites (other than the ones already listed up there) id nudge you towards these as well:

Milk-eyed mender: sadie, clam crab cockle cowrie

Ys street band EP: colleen (VERY special song i have a tattoo of it lol)

Ys: monkey & bear, sawdust & diamonds

Have one on me: you and me bess, soft as chalk, esme, ribbon bows

Divers: anecdotes, goose eggs

AND OF COURSE theres some other fun stuff like these playlists ive made that i plug to everybody all the time. Since you joined us after seeing That One Live Version of Baby Birch you should check out this playlist where im slowly collecting the canon of the best live baby birch performances and THIS PLAYLIST that is just my all time favourite live jnew performances in basically chronological order from 2004 to just a few months ago. sometimes her harp skills r crazy sometimes her voice hits just right sometimes the song just whips total ass with a full band behind it. I also rec this live album very very much.

ANYWAY what i really truly believe is that shes an artist that keeps giving. every other week a different song takes top spot in my life and i carry it around with me like a locket around my neck until something else comes along and captures my new mood. Right now i cant put monkey and bear down its the only thing i wanna listen to. PLEASE update me on what youre listening to and enjoying!! And thank u again for sending this u have no idea how much it brightened my week ur a star oxoxoxox

[ms31x129]

Chimera

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 2! I had to make a DJ! I felt compelled! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK or if you like AO3 it is HERE. 

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish  (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:  Months after watching the death of his adoptive parents and Mulder and Scully’s tearful exchange on the pier, Jackson decides to take the risk and head back to his home. He is in search of answers left behind and possibly something worth keeping as a remembrance before the house is sold and all is lost forever. In the attic he finds a letter from his birth mother and as he reads each line, the power and love each word possesses causes his mind to connect with the letter's past, one that he shares, and through visions he relives each moment including an answer to a familiar quarter that his birth grandmother would later carry on a simple chain around her neck only for his birth mother to do the same after his grandmother’s death.}

"My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel--it is, before all, to make you see." -Joseph Conrad

The handwriting drew him in first—elegant and delicate. The shapes of the letters remarkably strong, written with expertise and confident symmetrical lines. Beautiful strokes, both straight and curved, the letters flowing into one another with care and precision. His own handwriting was jagged: no artful roundness or discernable style. Sometimes his Os looked more like As and Ys like an S. They did not have that in common. With a deep sigh he dared to plunge forth, to jump and read the first line.

One day, you’ll ask me to speak of a truth of the miracle of your birth; to explain what is unexplained.

He paused at the word “unexplained” . Something within that word haunted him. His heart inexplicably raced, vision blurred and his mind blazed. Like a great rush of water, the memory returned as if he entered a time machine.

February 5, 2002  - "Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs" -Pearl Strachan Hurd

Silver. A quarter.

The delicious smell of something baking in the oven. A smile came into focus that was highlighted by lines and age. Security and warmth when he was cradled within her arms. She was an older woman, holding him tenderly with dark hair and a glimmer in her hazel eyes that matched the shiny quarter she had retrieved from her purse. After setting him down in his bassinet, she displayed it in front of his eyes. The woman flipped the quarter over like it held pure magic. As if she had never seen one before. Her features cracked into a familiar grin.

“This is luck, William. A coin in a baby's hand means they will never want for money. It’s an old Irish tradition. I put one under your Uncle Bill’s pillow when he was a baby. Same with your Uncle Charlie and your mother.”

Baby William grabbed hold of the coin. Jackson recalled the feel of it in his hand. Cold metal, yet warm in places where she had touched. With both small hands he tugged the solid object from her grasp.

A worried look clouded over the woman’s brow as she stroked his fluffy hair.

“William, I know you are special, but you will always be my grandson. You will grow to do many great things. Change the world in ways only you can dream. Always remember my dear, sweet grandchild, you can survive the unexplained—survive anything if you feel loved… and I do love you.”

The older woman with the hearts in her eyes took one last heavy breath before reasserting her smile. Even at his young age, her eyes and mind communicated to him and the words resonated making him bubble with laughter and kick with joy. The woman let out a laugh, loud and beautiful. Her face was aglow with new beginnings of a world he was ripped from and would never get to see. Their moment was interrupted by the front door and a familiar voice: Mother .

Her face bright and cheery as she finally came into view. “Mom, watch so that he doesn’t put that in his mouth.”

Mother knelt down as she took the quarter from his fisted baby hands and it angered him. He began to fuss and kick, desperate to feel the coin’s texture against his skin again.

“Shh, look,” she soothed while she held the quarter near his face. He let out a laugh as he reached for it, only to make it disappear. Jackson felt himself frown as baby William. Then his mother squeezed his button nose and out popped the quarter. She then held it out in the center of her palm for him once again, and a squeaking giggle rumbled out of his little chest as she laughed along too."Your daddy showed me that trick," she said and smiled so bright it warmed his body from his tiny rounded toes, to his now drooling, smiling mouth.  

“I was going to place it under his pillow. Give him some Irish luck,” the woman answered softly while coming back into his vision, drinking from a steaming cup.

“You know I don’t believe in superstitions, Mom, but I guess it would be alright.”

His mother’s hand gently stroked the swell of his cheek with her thumb and her bright blue eyes danced between his, connecting. A quick electric-like spark ran through him as if he were shocked. Her eyes narrowed onto his at the realization of the connection made while her hand jerked away from the softness of his face.

Jackson’s head snapped back and he found himself staring at the attic’s wooden ceiling, inhaling the musty oak while the past scent of his mother mingled with the present. He gripped his thighs and forced his breathing to slow.

“What the fuck?”

The length of the memory freaked him out. He had experienced snippets or clips of what he knew to be memories of his life as a young boy, but never to this amount of detail, and not even close to lasting that long before. His mind had never worked in a manner that society had deemed normal and this was just another example shoved in his face of how screwed up his head really was.

He scoffed and kicked the box next to his foot, angry as he glared at the letter that had floated to the floor.

“Why am I even doing this? I’ve lived my past and it certainly wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine.” Jackson shook his head and stood to pace the floor, tucking his chin to his chest as the low beams brushed along his wild chestnut hair.

Questions overwhelmed him.

“Who am I really?” he huffed, biting his lip and running a hand down his face. “Jackson or William? Some kind of freak with alien DNA? A Changeling? A Chimera? And do I even wanna find out?” Truth was he did. He wanted to know who he was and get his life back, take control of what could happen in the future. But in order to do that, he knew he had to look to the past no matter how painful it may end up being.

Overall his life was a happy one, for a kid who felt like an alien in his own skin a little more as each year past with no idea as to why. He’d laughed, played practical jokes, had friends, took family vacations, and learned life lessons. But, the bad soon followed the good.

At times, it certainly wasn’t the happiest of childhoods and sure as hell wasn’t normal; the unexplainable powers he’d just happen to acquire growing up put a wrench in the standards of normalcy. Beyond that aspect, his parents loved him and they showed it. Sometimes embarrassingly so. Perks and downfalls of adoption, he supposed. But after shit hit the fan as his powers grew and was forced to switch schools, he utilized his above average intelligence to hack into the State of Wyoming’s county birth records. That had only spurred his curious mind into overdrive. Searching high and low for clues within the confines of his bedroom, where is parents hovered less often, was his only real way to find his own answers. The answers that his parents nor doctors could ever truly give him.

The only way to find the truth was to seek it. And seeking it through unauthorized channels, after finding out his genetic material was not shared with his parents whom were raising him, was his only choice to answer the questions firing through his mind every hour of every day and throughout each night laced with dreams he couldn’t explain.

“Follow the breadcrumbs, Jackson,” Mrs. Wilson told him as she leaned over his desk, thumbing through his advanced science book. “There are always clues left behind to help guide you when you lose your way. No matter how small they may seem or how cloaked in misdirection they are, the truth is out there.”

And that is exactly what he was doing now: searching for his truth.

An average day in his grade school science class had turned into a room full of shocked classmates and a seriously freaked out teacher calling his parents to pick him up when he had hatched an egg out of thin air. Jackson cringed at the memory of being picked up from school that day and seeing the look of what he now knows to be apprehension plastered across his mom’s face. That incident only spurred his parents into action, calling the genetics specialist at the Children’s Hospital of Wyoming to make yet another appointment.

Jackson stopped pacing and slammed his eyes shut, recalling the very occurrence that flipped his childhood world upside down and had finally given him his very first breadcrumb he was unknowingly searching for already.

“Come on, come on, Jackson! Get your long legs moving!” his dad teased as he ran ahead through the reeds of the waving grass.

“You cheated!” he hollered, his golden brown hair that frizzes in humidity flopped into his eyes with each pound of his foot into the ground.

He was taller than most kids at age eight but still hadn’t honed his ability to use the length of his legs the way he wanted. The new spring sun shone brightly into Jackson’s eyes as he ran through the rolling hills of their farmland behind the house.

The competitive side of him ached to catch his dad laughing at him from the bottom of the hill and a sudden surge of anger rushed in as he picked up the pace. He was known for his swift shift in temperament recently and had even unintentionally shattered the sliding glass door after his mom had scolded him. That same anger resurfaced and Jackson stretched out his limbs as he raced down the steep hill, leaping over a branch only to fly awkwardly through the air and land crushingly hard on his arm.

“Jackson!” He heard his dad yell and run towards him. The pain shooting through his forearm was overwhelming and when he looked down, he saw the bone had broken and was protruding out jaggedly beneath his skin. “Oh, my God! It’s broken, Son.” His dad gently touched his wrist and told him he was going to get help.

No tears came while his dad disappeared into the house. He only stared hard at the bone and endured the pain as he narrowed his eyes, focusing on just making it go away. “Please go away, go away, go away…” As soon as he chanted that, a searing sharp pain lanced through his head and down to his arm, heating and mending the break right before his widened eyes.

Jackson sat in the grass, covered in damp smelling dirt while he watched the bones in his arm straighten back out in utter shock. It was like nothing ever happened. He had done it. He had just healed himself; and he felt completely alone.

Even as his parents arrived and hovered over him, shocked and confused, Jackson had never felt more different, alien—knew in his intelligent mind that his life would never be the same again.

And it hadn’t. Not one day since then. That was the day he had overheard his parents speaking in hushed tones through the doctor’s door at the Children’s Hospital, telling them that more testing should be done since his birth parents might hold the detailed answers to their son’s medical history and the key to his future health.

The rest of his life had been spent rebelling and testing his powers in some sort of weird competition with himself. Jackson had been trying to fill in the gaps on his own and it just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his mother, questions to which they needed to find the answers. There was only one way to get them now.

The question still remained: was he ready to receive them? And was she?

A loud bang and muffled noises caught Jackson’s attention and he moved to the attic’s window.

“Shit!” He jerked away from the glass and gasped as he saw two men in suits walking up the driveway.

Closing his eyes as he listened to the sounds and movement of the men outside, he heard the “For Sale” sign creaking in the wind again. An idea struck. He fisted his hands and scrunched up his face in concentration. In a matter of seconds and an exhale a breath, he was now the man shown on the sign sporting a fake smile and a bad haircut.

The front door rattled and Jackson knew that the men in black weren’t going to give up until they did a full sweep of the home. He moved to the doorway of the attic but just before he exited, he looked longingly at the letter written only for him. The decision to take the letter with all the beautiful words of nearly two decades ago etched into it with him, or let it collect dust and age without knowing every single word his mother had meant for him to read ended up being an easy one for him to make.

He lunged down and snagged the letter, folding it up in his pocket just as the back door flung open and smashed into the wall.

Using his illusion, Jackson stood before the surprised men and asked, “what can I help you with? If you’re here to see the house, another walk through is happening in a couple hours.” His voice was deceptively calm since his heart was pounding in his ears. The fact that he could easily kill them where they stood didn’t mean he wanted to do so. He felt like a monster enough already.

“You’re the realtor?” The man with thinning hair and glasses asked as he palmed what Jackson assumed was a gun at the spine of his back. “No one else has been here?”

“No, but who are you?” Jackson made his way casually to the front door and narrowed his eyes at the man’s hand. When he got no answer he unlocked the door and flung it open. “You should leave before the authorities notice that piece behind your back. And since you’ve basically broken into a home up for sale, I think they’d have probable cause to search you.”

The men shared a look and stiffened at his icy tone. Silence hung in the air until the decision of whether to explain anything to him finally came.

“We’ve been monitoring this place since the event of last year for classified reasons. No need to waste your time on a worthless phone call.” Spinning around in place, they stared up toward the landing on the second floor, as if they expected him to just pop out of his room and wave. “Seems hard to believe a house like this is still on the market,” he chuckled and nudged his partner with a smug expression. “I guess the multiple homicides might turn people off.”

It took all of his strength to not beat the hell out of these assholes standing in the exact spot where his parents’ killers stood, aiming their murder weapon at his own head from the stairway.

“Then go,” he sneered. “Unless you plan on buying?”

Attitude and rage oozed from his teenage mouth and he didn’t give one shit. His control was waning at a faster rate than he had anticipated and if they didn’t leave soon, he could only imagine how the entryway walls would look with a fresh layer of red blood painted across its pristine eggshell white.

The taller man took the hint and made one final glance around and nodded for his partner to follow him out the door and down through the front lawn. They slowly got into their car and drove off, but not before tossing out a look that could kill. And Jackson had no doubt that the men had done just that multiple times before.

He slammed the front door and locked it. His head banged against the heavy wood.

“Jesus,” he exhaled as he dropped the illusion. “I gotta get out of here.” He ran a hand through his longer hair now and slid his fingers in his pocket, brushing them along the letter he had yet to finish. “That’s just it, man… you never finish what you start,” he laughed, annoyed and frustrated with everything including himself. “But maybe now, it’s time to try.”

[walkineternity]

Day 3: Delirium

(The Umbrella Academy x Sandman)

Klaus knew he was in trouble.

He had overdosed again. He tried to stay clean, for Ben and Vanya, for his other siblings, and for Dave. He so very much wanted to see Dave.

 But. He tried, okay. Tried so very fucking hard, and everyone was so focussed on Vanya that his efforts weren’t exactly…supported. Ben, of course, knew. And Klaus was grateful to have him. And he didn’t really blame everyone for not paying attention to him. They never really did that in the first place, unless he was causing trouble. And this time, it was because Vanya had nearly ended the world and he got that. He really did. He was trying to be there for them.

 But. He was an addict, okay. He can admit that. And…it was so hard to stay clean. He was so fucking high right now. He was so fucking sick right now. And Ben was yelling at him again.

 “Fuck! I can’t do this again, Klaus! You were doing so well! Fuck! I can’t even pick up the phone to call the ambulance can I! No! You are going to die in this alleyway and then I’m going to have nobody to talk to and, and, and you can’t leave me alone! Please, Klaus, please! Shit, okay, I’m going to try and get help, okay? I’m going to try.”

 Klaus felt himself drift. Ben was still talking, but then suddenly everything was quiet. He didn’t really get how he could still hear Ben with all the drugs in his system, but the other spirits had quieted down. And now, finally, Ben was gone too. He was going to die alone. Like he fucking deserved. His eyes shut, closing over tears that never fell and let the fog take him…

 Next thing he knew there was something licking his face. Okay, still alive. Still dying. Probably. He opened his eyes.

 Well. Where was he? This wasn’t the alleyway anymore. Maybe he wasn’t dying and he was already dead. But this wasn’t heaven. This was…he wasn’t sure. There were explosions of colours and shapes twisting in and out of existence and he felt simultaneously the highest he’s ever been and stone cold sober. He felt like he was awake and dreaming at the same time.

 And in the midst of all this madness, there was a rather ordinary looking dog, who was licking his face.

 “Well, hey there, boy. You wouldn’t happen to know the way back to reality now, would you?”

 He didn’t know what to expect at this point. And yet it still startled him when the dog stopped licking his face and spoke back. “Ah. You’re awake. Good. You don’t taste very good.”

 Klaus frowned. “Actually, I’m a snack. A delicious- wait. I’m…awake.” He sits up and looks around. Nothing was solid. There was no up and no down and he had no clue what he was sitting on because reality kept changing. Okay, he was definitely going crazy. “I don’t think I’m awake.”

 “Hm. Well. In a manner of speaking. And in another, you’re dead.”

 “Huh.”

 “You don’t sound surprised.”

 “Well, I’ve been dead before. And really, I was asking for it anyways.”

 The dog tilted its head, considering him, “I should be more specific. You’re only mostly dead, this time. This isn’t Death’s realm, but her sister’s.”

 “…mostly dead? What am I? The man in black now?” Klaus hadn’t seen the movie until his teens, when he was homeless and couch-surfing. Or rather bed-surfing. And old lover had the movie on VHS.

 “I don’t know what that means.” The dog huffed and then said, “I’m Barnabas, by the way. Not that you asked.”

 “Aw, what an adorable name!” Klaus tried to pet him, but Barnabas looked mildly offended and ducked his head away. He looked like he was about to say something snippy when a bunch of brightly coloured fish swam past his head. Klaus had been trying to ignore his surroundings for the sake of his own sanity, but this caught his attention.

 And then the…strangest voice followed after. “Ohhh, fishies! Come back here! …Hi, Barnabas!” He couldn’t really describe it. He could understand it, and for the most part it sounded like a young women’s voice, but something was distinctly…otherworldly. The voice sounded how this world looked. Chaotic, ever-changing, pitches and stresses in all the wrong places. It would have been called musical, if it wasn’t so discordant.

 And then a figure stepped out of the swirls of colours and then he realised that nothing was ever going to make sense in here. She was colourful herself. Rainbow hair cut in an odd style. Two different coloured eyes and the oddest combination of clothes.

 Though, honestly, he couldn’t say anything about his clothes. Currently, he was sporting the same outfit he wore in the real world and, frankly, wasn’t to off from this figure’s choice of clothes.

 Well, at least they had something in common. “Nice shoes,” he tries.

 The woman (girl? Young lady?) was talking to the dog and the fish, but turned to him at the sound of his voice. She drifted closer and peered down at him.

 “Well, hello there, traveler. You seem a little lost.”

 Klaus shrugged. She giggled. “Welllll, I suppose that’s, uh, that’s what you call life, now, isn’t it? Just a little bit lost and a lot bit lost! Go-ing on Forever!”

 Barnabas came a bit closer to her, to sit beside her, not quite touching, but close. Like he meant to offer her comfort. She absentmindedly scratched his ears, but still didn’t look away from Klaus. Oh, was he supposed to offer a reply?

“Well, I’m hoping that’s not the case. I’ve been trying, lately, you see, to settle down a bit. Stay clean and, y’know, be there for my family. Try to…have a home, a proper one.” His voice grew more unsure as he continued to speak.

 She was staring at him as he spoke, but not in his eyes. Just looking there briefly and then looking at his shirt and then his hair. Listening, but just couldn’t keep completely still. As she did, her nail polish changed colour and her ears changed shape and the rainbow in her hair shifted. This whole place was topsy-turvy. Strange how a talking dog named Barnabas was the sanest thing in here.

 She looked back up briefly into his eyes and then down at her feet. “It’s Nice to do things for fa-mi-ly. I have many Siblings too. I like to help them sometimes. You said I have nice shoes. Would you like to wear them? We can trade!”

 “Um.” Klaus wasn’t really sure what to say. “I don’t think our feet are the same size?”

 She frowned. “Oh, what does that matter? Its just for fuunnn. C’mon!” And she proceeded to take off her shoes. Which, were just as colourful as her hair. Rainbow boots that had really neat buckles shaped like the fish that swam around their heads.

 His were a solid black heel, stolen from Allison. They pinched his toes, not being the proper size, but they made his legs look gorgeous.

 Allison probably wasn’t going to be happy to learn her shoes were traded away, but then again, she probably wasn’t going to be happy with him either way. If he ever made it back, that is.

 He decided he should probably say all that out loud, and then he did, because they really weren’t his shoes, but the girl in front of him just sat down to better take of her shoes. “Oh, you’ll get out of Here eventu-ally. I like you, but you’re not mine to keep.” She finally managed to pull off both her boots. She was wearing mismatched socks, but those seemed to vanish. “And your family is just worried about you. If your sssister is mad, it’s only because she cares. You should ask them for help.”

 He shrugged and easily kicked off his own shoes, accidently kicking it too close to Barnabas. The dog just looked long-suffering.

 “They just think I’m useless and crazy. Well, maybe not Ben, but I’m not exactly doing my best there, y’know? He deserves to follow someone else around. Someone who won’t disappoint him again.”

 The girl hummed. “They say I’m crazzzzy too. But that’s alright. Mad-ness isn’t always a Bad thing….it helps when I know too much. Sometimes its nice to have a break from san-i-ty.” Here she started to slip on the heels and gestured at the boots, so Klaus grabbed one and put it on, stamping a little to get his heel in. Huh. Perfect fit. She continued, “And just because I’m mad, doesn’t mean my siblings don’t care about me. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. We aallll make mistakes, even Beings such as us, even little ones such as you, and we…oh, shoot, Barnabas! What’s the word? The- the Big one.”

 She glanced around as if the word she was looking for would suddenly appear. “You know. When the butterflies are iiiinn your body instead of outside them. Like stepping off the edge of a cliff, but knowing there is Someone to catch you, or for you to catch them.”

 Barnabas opened his mouth to say something, but she snapped her fingers (which made Klaus do a doubletake when the snap sound created visual shockwaves of colour, like they were in some sort of comic book), and then said, “Oh! Love! It’s lo-ve. We all love each other the same. They loved me when I was Delight, and they still love me as Delirium. I mean, look at Bar-na-bas!” She gestured with a heel in her hand. The dog sat a little straighter. “He was a gift to me from one of my bro-thers, to care and look afterrr me, and we’ve become such good friends! Destruction cares in his own way, and I know your siblings do too. You just got-ta….gotta ask, okay?”

 Barnabas smiled slightly. It looked a bit weird on a dog, but it seemed gentle. “I think we are the very best friends, my dear Delirium.”

 She put the other heel on and bounced up onto them, smiling at them both, at the world around them, at the tiny fish swimming above her head. The black of the heels swirled with spots of colour, but mostly stayed the same.

 Klaus finished doing up the buckles on both shoes and stood up too. He reached a hand up and the fish swam through his fingers and around his arm. The rainbow shoes felt warm and comfortable on his feet. He felt a bit giddy. He gave her a big grin and said, “Yeah. Okay. Sure. If I ever manage to get out of here, I’ll ask. Why not!”

 She gave him a grin in return. To match. Though hers stretched a little too far on her face. Still friendly, but not exactly a human smile. Her eyes changed colours too, but never the same colours at the same time. A fish swam in front of her face and this distracted her from him.

 “Well, how do I get out of here anyways? Not that I don’t mind your company, I should be getting back to the real world.”

 She looked back at him and seemed to startle a little bit. “Ohhhh, what were we talking about?”

 He blinked and looked at her and then looked at Barnabas, who said to her, in a reassuring manner, “It wasn’t important. Klaus was leaving soon anyways.”

 “Hm. My he-ad hurts. Was I talking Rightly again? That always Hurts.”

 “Yes, Delirium, but you don’t have to anymore. Why don’t we help Klaus go home and then play with the fish?”

 Klaus frowned at Barnabas in confusion. Delirium laughed joyfully and said, “Well, hell yeah! There’s only a few swimming around, buuuut I can make more!” She proceeded to spin around and do exactly that.

 Barnabas sidled closer to Klaus and said, “She does that, sometimes.”

 “What? Forgets?”

 “No. Remembers. The advice she gave you? How coherent she spoke? Does not happen often. You should take heed. The knowledge she has…is vast. So vast that it seems to…hurt her. Now, it’s time for you to go.” He didn’t say this roughly, but there was a sadness when he spoke.

 “Thanks,” Klaus said, heartfelt. “And thank her for me, too, even if she doesn’t remember.”

 Delirium wandered back over with a great many more fish swimming around, some bigger than others. Some so small he could barely see in the swirl of colours and shapes. “Oh yes! You!” She tapped him firmly on the forehead and said, “Say the magic words!”

 “Um, please-”

 “Wrong, so wrong. Try again.” And here she clicked her new heels three times.

 Klaus couldn’t help it. He laughed. He saw that movie too. And then he copied her action and said the “magic” words, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no pla-”

 And then he was in an ambulance, the paramedic’s expression triumphant and relieved. Ben, hovering over him on the other side, looked similar.

 “Klaus, don’t ever do that to me again. You are so lucky there was this goth lady around. Apparently, you aren’t the only one that can speak to the dead. She was pretty Zen about the whole thing. Said it wasn’t your time and managed to find a nearby payphone. She didn’t even ask why I couldn’t call the ambulance myself!”

 Ben sounded a bit hysterical. The paramedic seemed to be chattering away as he checked Klaus’ vitals. Klaus felt himself tearing up. He could still feel the drugs in his system. “I’m so sorry, Ben. I can’t do this-”

 “C’mon, Klaus! I know you’re stronger- what about Dave-”

 “No, shit, Ben, just- I can’t do this alone, okay? I-I really need. I need help. I want to stay clean. Please. I just- please. I can’t do this alone.”

 The paramedic wasn’t paying attention to his babble, too focussed on actually keeping him alive, but Ben was listening intently. He tried to lay his hand on Klaus’ shoulder, but his hand passed through. Klaus shivered. Ben looked disappointed, but not surprised. He settled for leaning over, close to Klaus’ face, and said, “Never, Klaus. I’m here, okay. And the others…we’ll ask for help from them too. We’re all trying to be a family, right? And….and whatever you need.”

 Klaus felt tears in his eyes and with a rough voice he said, “Thank you, Ben. I always knew you were my favourite brother.”

 Ben rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged the corner of his lips. “Oh, please. I’ll remember that next time you say that to any of our other siblings.”

 “Why would Allison or Vanya be my favourite brother?”

 “Fuck off, you know what I meant.” Okay, definitely a smile now.

 And then Ben happened to glance at his feet. “Klaus, where the hell did you get those?”

 Klaus looked at his feet and saw that he wasn’t wearing Allison’s heels, but rainbow boots. Huh. So not a drug-induced dream.

 “Klaus?”

 “I’ve been thinking, Ben.”

 “Oh no. I didn’t know you could do that.” He gestured at the boots. “Are you not going to answer?”

 Klaus ignored him and stared at the boots. “I’ve been wondering if they might allow aquariums in rehab.”

 Ben stared at him a little. But he was also long used to Klaus saying weird stuff. “Well. If we manage to use some of dad’s fortune for rehab, they’ll allow us as many fish as we want. If…if that’s what you wanted the aquarium for.”

 It was…so fucking nice to hear Ben using “us” and “we” like that. He knew Ben was stuck with him, but it felt…. like he wasn’t alone. That Ben meant it. That he was going to have help this time, from the whole family. And if they used dear old dad’s money…well. That would be icing on the cake. Petty? Yes. Deserved, even beyond the grave? Hell yes. He’s glad that he didn’t have another visit from him. He doesn’t think he could stand anymore revelations or disappointment from him. He’d take a bizarre realm of multi-coloured girls and fish and talking dogs any day.

 Though, he really didn’t want to go back any time soon. Being mostly dead was exhausting.

 “Yeah, Ben, fish. Lots of colourful fish.” His voice sounded further away, like hearing himself through a long tunnel. Klaus could feel his eyes droop closed.

 Ben laughed softly. “Anything you need, Klaus. Have some nice dreams for me, will you?” Klaus’ eyes were closed, but for a flash, he thought he saw someone above him. He couldn’t see features, just a strange helmet and black robes. A pale hand sprinkled shining dust onto him. Onto his closed eyes. And then the figure was gone.

  And he swore, right before he drifted off to sleep, that he felt Ben’s hand on his shoulder. But then again, it could have just been his imagination.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Albert

" The sky is beautiful today, don't you think so? Albert" the young lady sat by a window, admiring the blue sky and the shining sun that was almost blinding to look at

" It certainly is a sight to behold" a short answer was all he could think of, not having anything to add. Letting the silence set for a while he asked something he was thinking about since breakfast " are you going to accept his proposal"

Yn turned around to look at him, wondering how Albert knew she was sent a proposal for betrothal " maybe, i still didn't think it through. And dad has been asking if I plan on marrying soon, he is itching for grandchildren. Plus he isn't half bad" she grabbed her cup that was resting on a table " why the curiosity?"

" Nothing special, just asking" after sipping his wine he looked at it as of it had the answers to life " do you think you will be able to help williams' plans if you are not available most of the time"

" I will have to make up some excuses but you should be pretty well off without me" she started looking at her nails. maybe she would get them filed, they got a bit too long " moneypenny can do an even better job then me, that woman is naturally beautiful. Isn't she your secretary? You two would look good together"

Ignoring your last remark Albert asked, trying to sound uninterested about the subject " who is the lucky guy? Perhaps a noble?" Even if the last question sounded like a joke it was feasible for it to be a possibility, given that the lady's father was a wealthy merchant with a long list of business contacts and connections to the nobility

She looked at him and lightly laughed " don't be silly!" Yn covered her mouth with her hands " it is papa's apprentice! Mark? He is a sweetheart. Papa likes him but he isn't too sure if he is going to be a good owner"

"He sounds like a lovely person." Albert gave a short answer and kept prying information "Does your father want you two married for any particular reason?"

" Oh he wants a male heir if he dies because I wouldn't be able to inherit his business and mark is the best thing he got " the lady leaned back on the chair " but let's change the subject! Tell me about that ball I couldn't go to"

Albert drank from his wine, knowing it was all he could get from you and simply moved on to the new subject " it was ok but have you heard of what miss gray did" he knew by the look on your face nobody has told you yet " do you remember the count of timester?"

Some time passed between gossip and anegdote and tea time ended and you had to go to the house of one of your aunts because of family business. Before your carriage set off you managed to yell something to Albert

" Albert I forgot my dad's papers at the table! Please give it to him" even as your voice got further away and it was harder to hear you he managed to understand it

Albert looked at the paper and the envelope that laid on the table, something about how a new product was selling and a report about if it was necessary to have a certain number of articles on stock.

The oldest moriarty sighed " well, i guess this is a good way to meet her father" tucking the papers under his arm he went to the market " I think i can remember where YN's Father's market is"

Albert went to the store walking, hoping not to call much attention. After some time he arrived at the shop, it had mainly foreign products like spices, fabrics and jewelry. Albert approached one member of the staff that was putting goods on the shelves

" Can I talk to the owner" Albert's deep voice resounded in the empty store, making the cashier jump and drop one roll of ribbons. After the scared look on his eyes albert clarified his intentions " i have some papers for him"

After the clarification the cashier seemed relaxed " oh yes, he is writing down the sales of this month, I will let him know you are here. He gets cranky when anybody enters his office, even his daughter knows better"

And with that the cashier left to notify the owner. It wasn't long before he returned to Albert to guide him to a dark wood door. The cashier returned to the from of the shop in case a customer arrived after albert knocked on the door

" Enter" a raspy voice order, when Albert entered he saw a man looking towards the opposite direction so he couldn't see Albert " YN, darling, you brought the pa- you are not my daughter" the graying man looked at Albert with distrust " who are you?"

"I'm not your daughter but she asked me to bring this to you, sir" Albert reach out for a handshake that mister YS answered

" What is your relationship with my daughter" his voice sounded passive aggressive

" sorry where are my manners? My name is Albert James Moriarty, a close… friend of YN" Albert remarked bitterly the world friend

" Moriarty?" Her father took a puff of his cigarette " it sounds familiar, tell me more"

" Well our family's manor burnt down when we were children. Maybe that is what you heard? I also entered the military early. Maybe that is why my surname sounds familiar?"

"Mh, I guess" FN wasn't sure that is why he remembers the surname but didn't worry a lot about it " you said you brought the reports, give them to me"

" Yes sir" albert gave the papers and the envelope and walked to the door

"Son, could I ask you to stay a bit longer? I would like for you to return some papers to my daughter after I finish with them" albert then walked in again, flipping through some books and past month reports

" sir I think there might have been a mistake on the report" YN father looked at him

" Why do you say that?" Albert got near to him with the book, there was a register of the cost of exporting certain products to the shop

" the price of this product per unit was normal but this month it seems to have grown three times the cost of past month" albert put both registers side by side and he was right, the price triplicated from past month to this

" You are right, I will have to have a little chat with daniel about his prices" YN father told from his desk and grabbed one envelope, inside put a letter that was laying inside one drawer and sealing it with green wax " give this to my daughter, don't open it" and he left the envelope on Albert's hands

Albert left the shop, and walked to the moriarty state, he was about to enter the manor when he heard the horses. Turning around he saw the carriage a few meters away from the entrance and saw you drag your skirts towards the main door after thanking the coachman.

" YN" he called when you where near him

" You could give father the papers? I hope you didn't have to go too out of your way for it"

" Please, don't worry. I had to do some things at the center too so it was by my way" he lied, he didn't have to do anything in the center of near the commercial zone but he wanted to be helpful to her one way or another " before I forget, your father sent you this" and he handed her the envelope

She looked at the envelope for a minute, and then smiled at him, a light blush on her cheeks " albert after dinner could we talk about something?" Her blush seemed to grow as she continued the sentence but Alber didn't seen to notice it and simply agreed thinking she wanted to talk about her future engagement

The dinner was cooked by louis, as always. Nobody had anything to say so the only noise was the one made when the silverware against the plate and the glasses being put down on the table. The time passed and everyone finished eating and fred went to the kitchen to clean the plates, after that everyone left to their rooms but albert and YN went to the living room

"Well, YN, what did you want to share with me?"

" Given that love is in the air, albert, do you have a liking for any young lady?" Her smile was smug

Albert took a breath before answering " I do indeed" he leaned back into the sofa getting more comfortable " but sadly my affections doesn't seem to be reciprocated"

" Oh, I feel for you albert" YN Empathized with albert, even more so now that it was certain he didn't have feeling for her. Noticing her vision getting blurry she grabbed the envelope and opened it, taking the first paper she could get her hand on and faking reading it, as an excuse as to why she was about to cry

Albert seemed to notice the tears falling down her cheeks to the paper " what happened?"

Trying to find a credible excuse YN said what came first to her mind " papa found a man who he likes better, and I like him too, but he doesn't seem to like me" YN left the letter in the table and laughed dryly " i guess we both are lovelorn" after finishing the sentence one tear fell down her cheek

Albert looked at the letter, it was empty " you are lying to me" he grabbed it " it is empty, now why are you crying. We are friends"

Those words caused her to cry harder " it is nothing albert, really" and she dried the tears with her sleeve

Albert knew she wouldn't tell him so he started thinking "Tears pooled in your eyes before reading the card…" suddenly it hit him " are you crying because I like someone else?" YN didn't look up from her lap " YN. Do you like me?"

" What does it matter if I do or not? You already have an interest on someone" YN crossed her arms

Albert sat up from the sofa and walked to the loveseat she was on " Well, I would like to know" he sat down next to her " it would be uncomfortable to start a courtship because I misunderstood your intentions"

YN (e/c) eyes went wide and her face red " don't mess around with me because of pity" she grabbed a pillow and try to hit albert but he grabbed the pillow

" Tell me,YN do you like me?" He was looking straight into her eyes, even if she denied it he would know she was lying to him

YN groaned " yes, i do like you. I made a fool of myself, happy?" She turned her head to not see him

" Happier than ever" albert grabbed YN's chin and kissed her. His lips were soft against her own and tasted like tea and wine " I would like a summer wedding" he whispered and sat up and went to his room

" Did-" yn touched her lips as if wondering it happened

" Yes, he did" moran walked to the main door

" What are you doing here"

" I slipped out of my room to go to the bar but you two were making a whole ass romantic movie." Moran grabbed his coat that he left hanging on a chair " oh, and I'm the best man. Bye" and he left to go drunk cheap booze

[scoutception]

Ys 1 & 2 review: the 22 year long journey to American computers

Falcom is one of the big underdogs of Japanese game developers, at least outside of Japan, a role pretty unfair for them considering they’re also one of the most important Japanese game developers to exist. Before names like Final Fantasy and even Dragon Quest were around, Falcom was pioneering action RPGs, JRPGs, and even innovating video game music as a whole. Dragon Slayer, the title that set the foundation for action RPGs, would eventually transform into the Legend of Heroes, better known as the Kiseki, or Trails, series, boasting some of the most detailed JRPGs out there, while the other big innovator, Ys, would remain true to its roots, while still taking steps to innovate as much as possible with every new title. Despite their games both being very influential and just plain great in of themselves, Falcom was basically unknown outside of Japan for decades due to very inconsistent localizations, and mostly being released on more niche consoles even when it did happen, like the Sega Master System or the TurboGrafx-16. The only Ys game to make it to American shores on the Genesis or SNES was Ys 3, which was barely recognizable as an Ys game in its original form, gameplay wise, and the first exposure America got to the Legend of Heroes was the Gagharv trilogy on the PSP, which recieved such awful localizations that they were actually released out of order, with the second game actually being released first, instead of the actual first, cause that certainly isn’t capable of causing problems. Thankfully, since 2010, XSEED has delivered fantastic localizations of many, many significant Falcom games released both before and after, giving fantastic games like Trails in the Sky exposure only dreamed of before. They’ve still got a ways to go, though, and so, it’s time for me to show my appreciation for these games by covering Ys 1 & 2, the games that refined the action RPG genre, farther than just starting it. The version I’m covering is Ys 1 & 2 Chronicles Plus on Steam and GOG, one of the most recent, and refined, versions available, and is based off the PSP version, which is based off the PC remakes. It’s a pretty crazy history for these games.

Ys 1: Ancient Ys Vanished: Omen

Story:

The story of Ys 1 is about the titular land of Ys (pronounced ees, like ease, or the middle part of geese), a mysterious floating island, which was, in ancient times, part of the island of Esteria. Ys was said to be watched over by twin goddesses and six great priests, named Tovah, Dabbie, Hadal, Mesa, Gemma, and Fact, until a mysterious evil forced them to raise Ys into the sky, with a few descendants of the priests and a gigantic crater being among the only remnants of Ys left in Esteria. 700 years later, odd things are happening in Esteria, with a wall of storms appearing to surround the island, cutting it off from the rest of the world. On the island itself, monsters have suddenly appeared as well, and something is stealing anything made of silver from the inhabitants, even resorting to assault. In the middle of this, the red haired swordsman Adol Christin, fueled partly by intense wanderlust, sets off to Esteria to investigate... only to predictably shipwreck against the Stormwall, washing up on the island and being rescued by the citizens of port Barbado, setting a fantastic standard for himself to repeat several times in future games. After setting out and reaching the town of Minea, Adol allies with the fortuneteller Sara, a descendant of priest Tovah, and sets off to collect the 6 Books of Ys, written by the priests, said to contain the secrets to the rise and fall of Ys, and the power to save Esteria, along the way meeting Feena, an amnesiac girl specifically imprisoned by the monsters, Reah, a troubadour with a silver harmonica, Luta Gemma, another descendant of the priests, and Adol’s future traveling companion Dogi, who has a hilariously small role considering his role in future games.

It’s definitely nothing too deep by today’s standards, not helped by the game’s short length, but having such an old game, we’re talking 1987, have an active focus on the story is pretty impressive, and to its credit, it does manage to make Ys genuinely mysterious, with an interesting explanation behind its fall, namely, the valuable metal of Ys, Cleria, caused the summoning of demons, and its discovery in Esteria, mistaken for silver, led to the island’s current troubles. While the characters as a whole aren’t anything special either, they have a likeable quality to them, and the main villain does have a fairly interesting twist to him; he’s also a descendant of one of the priests, Fact, out to collect the books for his own purposes. That said, the main strength of writing is just the general dialogue itself. For such an old game, the remakes added a lot of detail to the NPCs, giving everyone a name and a personality, and the translation gives a lot of life to them, making them pretty fun to talk to, turning what would otherwise be a lot of empty dialogue into amusing moments. They even gain new dialogue after certain points in the plot, which is another nice touch.

Overall, though, the biggest strength concerning the plot itself is the actual dedication put into it just relative to the time it was released. Touches like the Books of Ys being in a completely different language than what Adol knows, forcing him to find a way to translate them, and Luta Gemma’s mentions of guiding dreams, something that would become a much more common occurrence in the sequel. Speaking of which, this game was clearly betting on having a sequel with its plot, which is a pretty ballsy move even now. The deeper details to the downfall of Ys, the mysteries behind characters like Feena and Reah, and just what Ys itself is really like are left unanswered, with the game ending on an outright cliffhanger, with the books transporting Adol to Ys after saving Esteria, very likely one of the first video games to do so, at least in regards to following up on it. Overall, the writing side is still entertaining enough, and as long as it manages to be fun, that’s a success in my book.

Gameplay:

Here’s where stuff gets a bit, let’s say, contentious. Ys is played at a top down angle with you controlling Adol, and only Adol. Combat, compared to almost any other video game, even from the 80's, is rather unusual. You see, instead of using a dedicated attack button, Adol suffices with ramming into his enemies, swinging his sword and damaging them automatically on contact. This system, called the Bump system, may sound, well, dumb and overly simple, but it’s quite a bit more complicated than it may seem. Running directly into an enemy, rather sensibly, kills Adol dead in just a few hits, though he at least trades hits with them as well. In order to attack safely, you need to hit them at a vulnerable angle, such as to the side or behind them. Thankfully, you don’t need to pull hit and runs for every individual attack, as once you hit an enemy at a good angle, you can just keep moving forward and attacking, with them being unable to resist unless you choose to move away, or are knocked back by another enemy. While it can be difficult to put to use at first, it’s actually a fairly well designed system. It gives the game a fast and surprisingly intense pace, with enemies being able to kill you in just a few hits, and having telegraphed attacks of their own in addition to being able to hurt you just through collision. On the opposite side, being able to run into enemies and kill them in a second is pretty satisfying, and makes grinding for EXP and gold a lot less troublesome than usual in RPGs, considering you can just take things down on your way to something else. The game also takes mercy and allows you to automatically regenerate your HP on the overworld and in towns just by standing still for a few seconds, and considering enemies only respawn when you move the screen, it isn’t much of a risk to you either to just stop and take a breather.

Adol’s equipment consists of swords, shields, armor, and rings. The first three are pretty self explanatory, boosting his attack and defense, and acquired by buying them in shops, finding them in treasure chests, or even received from NPCs for free in a couple of cases, while the rings give effects like boosting attack or defense, slowing down enemies, or boosting health regeneration, either doubling it when Adol is outside, or allowing it in dungeons, where it is normally restricted, though unfortunately the rings do not work in boss battles. Adol also has a regular inventory, mostly containing key items, including a few equip able ones like a mask revealing secret passages, and a few other things like potions to restore health and wings to instantly transport him back to Minea. As this is an RPG, there’s also a leveling system, which gives Adol downright dramatic stat increases each time he gains a level. Problem is, these levels matter way more than equipment, and with the jump between each level, the early game consists of just grinding a few levels until you’re capable of taking on the next set of enemies somewhat safely, with several bosses in particular being outright immune to damage until you reach certain levels. At the least, you don’t have to do this many times, considering the level cap is only 10, which you need to reach to beat the third boss out of seven, after which you’re at the mercy of any equipment the game gives you to get any stronger. Speaking of which, bosses mix up the gameplay a bit by being vulnerable at any angle, meaning you just have to focus on getting to them in between their attacks. Unfortunately, most of the bosses aren’t exactly great, either being really easy, or really, really annoying, with special mentions going to the previously mentioned third boss, which spends most of its time as a swarm of bats capable of covering most of the screen, only being vulnerable when it reforms for the briefest of moments, and we’re talking barely a second. Sometimes it’ll reform almost immediately after transforming, but other times it’ll chase Adol much longer, and it stays as the bat swarm longer if you get hit. It doesn’t take much damage even when you do hit it, as a cherry on top, making for a very drawn out fight.

The 4 bosses after this one are a lot more fun, at least. From a giant mantis that constantly throws scythes at you, to a giant rock creature constantly firing projectiles at near bullet hell levels, to two giant floating heads bouncing around a room with barriers around them, forcing you to slip in between the barriers to hit while they swap between who is vulnerable, they’re legitimately intense, and a lot of fun, culminating with Dark Fact himself as the insane final boss, ping ponging around a room, firing near impossible to dodge projectiles, turning it into a game of rushing to meet him once you can predict his path and damaging him as much as you can, while he destroys parts of the floor for every hit he takes, killing you if you’re not on a different tile when he destroys it. It’s a nightmare attempting it at first, especially since you can’t even use your best equipment, as he is immune to any sword that isn’t the silver sword, and will kill you near instantly if you don’t use the silver armor and shield, and the instant death floor destruction is a cheap move, especially since you can outright get trapped if the right tiles get broken, nearly always forcing you to reload. Still, it’s actually pretty fun once you get the hang of it, and certainly lets the villain live up to the hype he built up. It should be mentioned there’s also a time attack mode that lets you go through a boss rush. It’s actually pretty fun, if let down by some of the roadblocks a few bosses present.

While at its core, Ys is an enjoyable time, there is one pretty difficult to ignore aspect to it: it is a very short game. There’s only three towns, a fairly small overworld, and three dungeons to go through. The first two dungeons, an old palace and a mine, are pretty decently lengthy, with quite a bit of stuff to find, but otherwise, it’s just a lot of backtracking and grinding. There’s not much in the way of puzzles, either, mostly only a few in the final dungeon. Once you’re forced into Darm Tower, with a full set of silver equipment and half of the books in your possession, you don’t think this last dungeon will be much. But that’s when the game throws you for a loop. Darm Tower is a behemoth of a dungeon, at a massive 25 floors you have to trudge through, with plenty of detours and backtracking. There’s new enemies every few floors, and 4 whole bosses are contained in this place. In the original versions, it easily took up half the game, and even in the newer versions, it’s a third of the game at minimum, if you spend enough goofing off. I have some mixed feelings towards this place. It’s miserably long and difficult, that mostly just has the same look to it in each floor, and even the music is the same until towards the end, not to mention once you go in, you’re stuck, and forced to keep on marching until you reach the top. On the other hand, I kinda like it just because of how unique it is. Darm Tower is hyped up even during the intro to the game, and plenty of NPCs say it to be an awful, fearsome place. If you’re savvy with RPGs, you might figure it won’t live up to that... but no, it lives up to all the hype it’s given. It’s utterly massive and exhausting, with tons of dangerous enemies that’ll hunt you down relentlessly. They’re even able to stick in plenty of plot and characters within, and seeing the day slowly turning to night as you make progress is quite a sight. In just living up to, and even surpassing, this hype, I kinda have to respect it. Overall, the gameplay of Ys works a lot better than you’d expect, successfully polished through over 20 years of remakes, but the short length alone could make it a difficult recommendation on its own.

Graphics:

Ys is actually a very pretty game to look at. The characters and regular enemies are in a sort of chibi style, which is pretty adorable, but not too detailed by themselves. The environments, on the other hand, look great, with lots of little details and allowing some fantastic views. While the enemy designs and locations aren’t anything too special, they still look quite good, especially the bosses, which are significantly bigger than normal enemies. Enemies also explode in a cloud of blood, bones, and body parts when defeated, which is both funny and satisfying, while not being anything too gruesome. You may have also noticed the border portrait in these screen shots, which I find quite nice to look at, if a bit restricting. You are allowed to go completely full screen, though, if it’s not to your tastes, but it doesn’t actually cut anything off.

The best aspect of the visuals, though, is the character artwork used when talking to important characters. It looks absolutely beautiful, and is a good contrast against the otherwise lesser detailed sprites.

This version also goes above and beyond in this regard by giving you options regarding this character artwork, namely a choice between using the newer artwork made specifically for this version, Ys 1 & 2 Chronicles, and the older artwork originally used in Ys 1 & 2 Complete, the PC remakes that have served as the basis for almost every port of these games since their release. Which you use comes down to a matter of preference, and while I do find the Complete artwork to look a bit odd at times, overall both options are beautiful. (Chronicles artwork is used first in these comparisons, and Complete artwork is used second)

Sound:

Ys 1 has an absolutely fantastic soundtrack, courtesy of Yuzo Koshiro, also known for the soundtracks for The Revenge of Shinobi, Etrian Odyssey, and, probably most famously, Streets of Rage, setting a standard for Falcom games in general, and providing quite an influence on video game music as a whole. This version again gives options in regards to the soundtrack, giving three different versions to choose: the original soundtrack on the PC-88, which holds up well even today, the Complete soundtrack, which gives a refreshing and different take on several songs, even if it’s very blatant in being in MIDI at times, and a new soundtrack recorded specifically for this version yet again, which is amazingly metal. It, again, comes down to preference, though while I like all of them quite a bit, I easily like the Chronicles soundtrack best, though it’s telling when the original PC-88 version of the title screen theme, Feena, is just as pretty as the other versions. Speaking of which, when it comes to individual pieces, some big standouts to me are Feena, again, for the title screen, Palace of Destruction, the theme of the first dungeon, Fountain of Love, Minea’s theme, Tower of the Shadow of Death, the maddening theme of Darm Tower, and Dreaming, played during a memorable maze section of Darm Tower. It is, overall, among some of the best music I’ve heard in a game, and is worth looking up even if you otherwise have no interest in Ys.

Ys 2: Ancient Ys Vanished: The Final Chapter

Ys 1 and 2 are so tightly connected to each other that I could not go without giving both games a proper looking through. Most releases of them nowadays can’t either, with almost everything bundling them together, which makes the short length of both a lot more acceptable, especially if you look at them as two split up parts of one game, like the acclaimed TurboGrafx-16 version did.

Story:

Ys 2 picks up right where Ys 1 left off, with Adol being transported to Ys itself. Unfortunately, his journey is not too smooth, resulting in him ending up unconscious and losing everything except for the six Books of Ys, eventually being rescued by a girl named Lilia and taken to her home of Lance Village. At least it wasn’t a shipwreck this time. But yes, as it turns out, people still live on Ys, and lived so in peace, until the same events that caused monsters to appear on Esteria caused the demons that once devastated Ys to reemerge. After being told that returning each tome to the sanctuaries of each great priest would open the way to the Shrine of Solomon, the former temple of the twin goddesses, and the current base of locations of the leaders of the demons, Adol sets off once again, to restore peace to Ys once and for all.

There unfortunately isn’t that much more for me to say regarding the writing. It’s about the same quality as the original when it comes to plot and characters, but overall, it’s a good conclusion to this tale, and the general dialogue is as entertaining as ever. I will say, though, that the tone works quite well, carrying a somber feeling reflecting the misery of the people of Ys, and their wish to return to happier times. Additionally, using a certain spell in the game, Adol is able to talk to the demons on friendly terms, and every one of them has unique dialogue. Not every type of enemy, every enemy has unique dialogue. Some of it is informative, but others just seem to be Falcom and/or XSEED going out of their way to prove how dedicated they are to detail, and I for one love it. Another notable thing to me is the setting of Ys itself. Esteria was a fairly normal location, but for such a mythical place... Ys itself isn’t too much different. It has some more extreme environments, like an ice wall and lava filled caverns, but it’s remarkably normal otherwise. While this may come off as disappointing, it fits quite well, considering Ys was never meant to be so grand and mysterious, and is a relatively normal place forced into an abnormal situation. Overall, again, it is a solid conclusion and step forward.

Gameplay:

The gameplay of Ys 2 is more or less the same as Ys 1, for the most part, divisive bump system and all. It does, however, feature several improvements, mostly to the combat. Firstly, the bump system has been changed so that ramming an enemy while moving diagonally will always count as a safe hit for Adol, making combat a lot safer, and enemies generally don’t deal as much damage either. The level system has also been revamped, going from the paltry level cap of 10 to a level cap of 55, meaning you’ll be leveling up and improving till the end of the game. Conversely, individual levels don’t mean nearly as much, but not only are they easier to grind for when necessary, they also make equipment much more important. The biggest gameplay addition, however, is the magic system. Over the course of the game, Adol gains several spells, most notably a spell to shoot fireballs, which can be shot rapidly or charged for a stronger attack, but also includes a spell to temporarily stop time, freezing enemies in place and leaving them defenseless, a passive, yet constantly active spell that reveals secret passages, a spell that allows Adol to appear as a demon, allowing the previously mentioned interactions, and even a spell that can warp him between various towns and other important locations, something that proves extremely helpful. This system alone adds so much to the game, and is a great way of expanding upon the rather limited system of the first game. Accessories have also been overhauled, as rather than just rings with simple effects, they’re various objects with much more unique effects, such as yet another ring that occasionally allows Adol to parry an attack, and an idol that gives homing properties to his fireballs. All bosses except for the last two now require the use of the fireball spell to defeat, making them a lot more reliant on skill than just being at the right level, making them a lot more fun as well, while retaining the frantic feel.

Another addition is the ability to give items like flowers and apples to NPCs as gifts. A few of them will reward you with valuable information, or even items, but for the majority, all you get is some amusing dialogue, all of which is unique, once again proving how insane these writers and localizers can be. You can also choose to throw fireballs at them, causing them to shout some pretty funny comments, which often include references to other games like River City Ransom and Final Fantasy 6. Still, it’s not very practical considering it lowers their affection, requiring more gifts just to get back to neutral. While it doesn’t affect normal dialogue, this little system is worth messing around with, just to see what laughs you can get from it.

Otherwise, the game is more fleshed out, with a lot more places to go to. You’ve got a shrine and a mine combined into one general dungeon, a beautiful ice wall, volcanic caverns, and finally, the Shrine of Solomon. Compared to Darm Tower, the Shrine of Solomon isn’t quite as dominating, but it’s still huge, and sadly still requires a lot of backtracking. I’d wager it’s about a fourth of the game in of itself, possibly a third if you’re quick enough with the rest, and can still get pretty draining. Still, it’s a lot more enjoyable than Darm Tower, having more interesting environments, such as plenty of outdoor areas and a subterranean canal, and certainly lives up to the hype itself had built up. There’s no overworld, but considering how you were gated off by anything you weren’t a high enough level to take on in Ys 1, combined with how tiny and featureless said overworld was regardless, this linearity is preferable, giving a nice sense of progression. There’s also 4 towns spread out quite nicely, giving some much needed breathers after some of the more expansive parts of the game. The game is a decent bit longer than Ys 1, especially if you allow yourself to goof off and take in all the detail, like I did. Overall, Ys 2 has some much improved gameplay, and is a lot more fun than the already enjoyable first game.

Graphics:

The graphics of Ys 2 are about the same level as Ys 1, namely, it looks great, especially the character artwork. One noticeable improvement comes in the area and enemy design, looking a lot more distinct than in the first game, making it all look a lot better. There’s also a dumb, but cute option that lets you hang a “mascot” on the screen, which just amounts to the sprites of various characters and enemies, more characters unlocking at maximum affection. Otherwise, I could just copy and paste I said in this section for the first game. Still, very good.

Sound:

The music, again, is very similar in quality to the first Ys, and is still amazing. Personally, I find the Complete remixes are a bit weaker compared to the first game, but the Chronicles soundtrack still hold strong. Some stand out pieces to me include Too Full of Love, Lance Village’s theme, Ruins of Moondoria, Ice Ridge of Noltia, Palace of Solomon, Tender People, Ramia Village’s theme, and this game’s remix of Feena, which is even better than the version in Ys 1. Overall, still a fantastic followup.

Conclusion:

Overall, Ys 1 & 2 Chronicles gets a recommended from me. It’s short length, questionable combat system, and overall signs of age can certainly be enough to make one wary, but getting past that leaves you with two games full of charm and passion. More than anything, they feel rather comfortable and relaxed. The shorter length, the various options for graphics and music, the general charm of it, and even the goofy and often context-less achievements, these two games manage to be memorable experiences.

This collection is a great introduction to one of the grandfathers of RPGs, a grandfather that’s still going strong after more than 30 years. Till next time, and apologies to anyone who reads this for how horrendously long this ended up.

-Scout

[concerningwolves]

A Faith in Flames

Before tensions broke, life on the Isles of Ys for Nessa and her friends was at least manageable–all they had to do was avoid the Newavers, pretend to shun everything that made them who they were, and keep their heads in the chaos. It should have been simple.

Problem was, none of them were very good and following the rules.

Nessa fought her way through the forest of legs, heart hammering in her throat from the sheer thrill of breaking the rules on her own. There was no Rue or Thistle or Fyrn egging her on, no Faela thinking up wild schemes with a grin; only Nessa and the people all around her, some of whom had once been family. The crowd began to thin. With an underbreath hiss of glee, Nessa pushed her way to the front rows--and her heart froze.

A pyre loomed up in the centre of the square, filling almost all of the space with books and wood and ancient figureheads from The Time When Their Parents Still Sailed Ships. Nessa had never seen so many relics all in one place. Her brain whirred as it tried to reconcile this barbaric pile with the wintering bonfire, which was at least half a year away and had never required the burning of anything valuable anyway. She glanced from side to side in furtive sips, taking in the clothmen with their slingshots and bare feet. They were only boys, most of whom had just a few winters more than her hard-earned eleven, but Gem was very firm about them still being dangerous. He said that the number of winters the clothmen had survived meant nothing because they were fanatics.

But still, still… Nessa could see a ghoulish totem-face leering at her from between two lengths of broken timber; a book that Faerfeld the Quill-queen had supposedly written flapping in the breeze; a stuffed ragdoll. She ground her teeth and straightened her spine. Nessa was descended from the people to whom those relics belonged, and she cared. Even if nobody else did. She took a brave step forwards.  

A hand closed around her shoulder.

Nessa jerked her head back, expecting to see Piper or Gem. Instead, she was met by the withered face of Grandma Milkeye who wasn’t really a grandma at all, but a girl of seventeen winters whose face had been twisted beyond by the clothmen’s poisoned magic. Her fingers were twisted, too, and the roll of her thoughts was all tangled up by pain and loathing.

“Don’t,” Milkeye hissed. Her left eye, the one that wasn’t smokey-blind, stared at Nessa with an awful intensity. Milkeye’s fear tasted like unripe fruit on Nessa’s tongue. “You should go.”

“I want to see,” Nessa said, trying to free her shoulder. Sick as Milkeye was, she had the greater strength out of the two of them, and the fear that Nessa didn’t understand only served to make her stronger.

“They musn’t see you here.” Milkeye began to shove Nessa back into the crowd that she had worked so hard to push through, her fingernails biting through Nessa’s overlarge cloak.

A sudden wail went up from somewhere in the throng. Nessa jumped. The slight sense of unease and curiosity that had been rising from the people like a heat-shimmer became a sudden, acrid flare. Milkeye grabbed the cowl of Nessa’s cloak and yanked it up, before enveloping Nessa in her own layers, trapping her with wiry arms. It was a clumsy hiding place, but better than nothing. Nessa could still see anyway, and that was the important thing.

Nessa’s weïrdness was running on overtime, trying to untangle all of the emotion from everyone gathered. She was straining against the grasp that Milkeye had on her, staring out through the small gap where the older girl’s cloak couldn’t quite cover the both of them. A strange procession was being led around the pyre, and although they were so clearly people Nessa found herself thinking about sheep. For the first time since diving into the crowd, it occured to Nessa just how much danger she was in.

She stared at the prisoners, four in total: a young mother, her toddling-babe, a spindly girl who looked around Nessa’s age, and Fyrn.

Fyrn.

The boy stood facing forwards with his arms folded in resolution, but from her close vantage point Nessa could see how his bottom lip was trembling and his eyes were just a bit too wet. Milkeye held her tighter. A clothman was strolling along the head of the crowd, weaving through the first few layers of people with a short knife glinting in his hand. Small weapon as it was, Nessa knew firsthand that they could be lethal in close quarters like these. The fierce impulse to struggle free blinked out like a light as the clothman’s legs stopped in front of her.

“Who’s that you’ve got there?” The clothman demanded of Milkeye. He was holding his knife close against his wrist, ready for a fight, the blade gleaming at eye level to Nessa.

“Do you think I would let a child see this?” Milkeye returned, and for all that the clothmen had done to her she still wasn’t afraid. Nessa felt a swell of strange admiration and settled back into the bony body swathed around her. 

“Are you hiding it from the truth of our lives?” The boy demanded with a gesture of the knife. “It should know what happens to people who won’t give up on the Speakfaith.”

“I’m hiding him from a horrible sight,” Milkeye said. Him. That was smart. Girl-children were regarded with more suspicion. They were more likely to retain their weïrdness into adulthood. “He already knows what’s happening, but I’m not going to let him see the burning.”

Nessa stifled a moan of terror and bit down on the neck of her own cloak. She hadn’t imagined that they would be burning people. When the clothman moved along she saw with a surge of nausea that Fyrn was being wrestled up the pyre to one of the long protruding sticks. Shackles closed around his wrists and ankles. Nessa went slack against Milkeye and tears began to fill her vision. She blinked them away angrily. Two clothmen bearing torches were approaching, and another had a bucket of something that looked like water but stank like strong medical spirit when he threw it across the pyre.

Fyrn screwed his eyes up against it, but he had breathed some in. Nessa could hear him coughing and spluttering for breath from where she stood. For one terrible beat she considered murder--wondered how it would feel to ram her own mind inside that of the boy holding the bucket, to let all of her anger and horror and fear loose inside, and watch as he writhed--but knew that she could only consider. Nessa had never felt trapped inside her own body before, but here she was, bound to herself and unable to do anything to help.

The torch-bearers touched their flames to the dripping wood. Nessa told herself that she would watch, but as the mother lost her grip on the toddler and the flames climbed ever closer to Fyrn’s feet, she turned and buried her face into Milkeye’s midriff. She couldn’t even feel ashamed for crying, and the roaring of burning wood swallowed her sobs.

But there was one sound, one haunting melody that refused to be quieted. A murmur shook the crowd. Do something, Nessa screamed at them inside her head, but she couldn’t steer the thoughts of so many people. Their minds were closed up like anemones at tidefall. They would listen though, and Nessa hoped with a bitter fury that none of them were ever going to forget this.

Fyrn’s voice was rich and raw, even as the smoke crept in and tore at his throat. Nessa did look then, with one hand still curled in Milkeye’s overshirt. The flames were eating their way up Fyrn’s body and his mouth was open in defiance. An ancient litany poured out of that gaping black hole, sung in the tongue of Old Ys and carried high above their heads in the wind of Fyrn’s own destruction. Then it was over. His lungs stuttered to a halt. The fire crowed in triumph.

Milkeye turned against the shock-stilled crowd and steered Nessa through, past young faces and frightened eyes, towards a familiar figure. Piper’s speckled-egg face swam in front of Nessa’s, more worried than angry, as he let her fall against him. He murmured soft words into the top of her head in his gentle Aevmaran accent, never one to be crude or cruel. Just being close was enough to soothe some of the roiling in Nessa’s stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Nessa whispered at last.

“You’re not the one who should be sorry.” Piper held her close and ran his hand through her hair. He then said something that would stay with Nessa in the dark years to come, “It’s those fuckers who should be sorry, and one day we’ll make them so.”

Tagging people who have shown interest: @oheoo @temporarysentences @brynprocrastinates @merigreenleaf (idk you expressed interest in oSaS a while back..?) @cog-writes @weregretnothing

[stanvicton1109-blog]

Victon’s Last fansign

Hey guys me again with a story from Victon, a lot has happened since the last time I posted about the fansigning. So I attended the last fansiging of the Identity era with some of my victon friends I finally made some Alice friends haha though some are from home. Anyways I met with one of the Alice friends I met here in Korea she is a teacher who lives in here, and she is one cool lady, Sejun biased nice girl. Anyways I met with her while waiting on my home school friends to arrive who was late by the way. I chose my number and I got 80 I kind of need to be like before 40 if I am going to be at a fansign. I realized this, anyways while waiting I just talked to my friend because she switched with someone and sat right next to me. While we were talking we are waving to the memebers who did not have anyone in front of them, I did not wave much I think I only waved to Sejun, Seungsik, Hanse and Subin, I do not clearly remember. But, when I waved to Sejun I shot my hand up like a kid in class trying to ask to go to the bathroom and waved to him he waved back. so  after an hour and a half of waiting it is finallly my turn to go up I waited in line, the staff cheked my album and checked my name and such so they could confirm I am me ( for some reason they were a lot stricter with the id checking that day) I am at the bottom of the stairs two people away, also I forgot to mention  they were 6 that day because Byungchan had caught the flu, and he was not there sadly. As I wait I talk to one of my home school friends I asked to record me since she had a good seat which was 1. Finally I am there up on stage sitting in front of Han Seungwoo the most amazing guy ever

Seungwoo: We say Hi to one another and he starts signing my album he writes to Porscha (yes that is my name) and he is like how do I say this again he does say my name right and I am like Yea in english and he like like Yeahh? I am like yea???? He tells me to say it again and I am like say yea again? he is like yes! I am so confused but I go Yeah yea yeah yeahhhhh yeah yea yea yea yea, and he is like ohhhh my god you are a rapper. I laugh so hard like WHat son oh my god I cannot. we continue our conversation and he asks me what did I do over Chuseok ( Week long Korean thanksgiving) I was like ummm I went to the club, and Seungwoo is shook guys and my myself was like oh my lord what have I done why did I say that, but he asks me where, I told him Hongdae, and he is like WHICH CLUB I am like NB2 and he is even more shocked I am like god take me now he is like ygygygyg I am like lord please take me now and he asks me did I drink whiskey I am like no, he is like what did you drink I am like Vodka and he like wow by this time comes it is time for me to move on to Sejun and while I am moving to Sejun who Yolo’s at me Seungwoo tells him that I went to NB2 and hes like ooooo

Sejun: ohhh how I wanted to die, We say hi to each other he is like soooooo you went to NB2 and I am like yes, he goes into saying how its interesting and how the Dj is in front and the people are like woooo and I  am sitting there like yea.... but how do you know but i didnt ask Sejun was sick so I gave it a pass. He is like earlier I saw you waving at me and showed me how I did it and i mimicked him, we laughed and he asks me something and I am like oh my please I cannot Korean right now and he figures and grabs my wrist shakes it and he asks me about the comeback that did I enjoy their promotions and I say yes, he say like thanks for coming all this time and seemed really genuine about it, we say bye and I move to chan and while I am moving to chan he tells Chan that I went to NB2 chan shake his head like yea then looks at my album and is like WAIT WHAT?!

Chan: Chan asks me did I go to NB2 and I was like yes, he asks me when and I like Saturday and Sunday, I say two nights he is like wowwww, I shook Chan then he changes to another topic did I mention that Chan is an angel sent from heaven and that I love him if I havent then I am now. He asks me about school he is like you are a student right I am like yes, he is like you are here for a long time I am like yes and he asks me where my university is I tell him Dongdaemun and that I go to University of Seoul he is like wowww. then he goes on to another topic like that the promotions are over and I answer yes.... and he is like oh no sad right I am like yes *makes sad face* and he copies me and tells me to come for next promotions, and I am like of course we say our goodbye’s and I move on to Hanse

Hanse: I seriously feel bad about how me and him interact when my mind wants to be an ass and not understand Korean. Hanse does not speak english at all the members before him mostly spoke korean but when I did not speak back or understand they tried to english a bit and it had not helped I had not spoken Korean like at all for over a week. While he spoke I shook my head ys but he asked me a question that I didnt know how to answer and it still was quiet he asked again and I was like uhhh I still do not know what you are saying honey, so he asked me about the promotions and I answered and I was like yes then he like told me by I feel so bad like seriously hanse I am so sorry I love you you know this thinking back I think he asked me did I go home over chuseok but I will never know. He tells me thank you for coming and to come again often. then I move on to Seungsik

Seungsik: We say our hello’s and he immediately tells me that Hanse and I have similar shirts on and I am like oh really, and he says Neon Style. My shirt is is bright yellow and Hanse’s shirt is highlighter green and they were both long sleeves, anyways Seungsik starts signing my album and im like wow m baby in my head. when he looks up he says something and I try my hardest to try and answer and I just shake my head and he says something about being there and for the 3rd album promotions and I am like yes, and he asks me if I enjoyed the promotions and thank you for coming all this time, and I say yes and he says you will come for 4th promotions and I am like yes we hi five at some point and I move on to Subin.

Subin: Oh my baby my son that savage maknae is learning. He tells me hello and I say hi, he signs my album and asks me have I been well and I am like Yes I have been well, and he asks me what have done over chuseok and I am like I slept ( I learned from earlier)  he laughs and said we are similar hehehehe, because we slept during Chuseok which leads him to ask me about school its kind of slipped my mind what he said last about school but I think I responded with what school I go to he then writes a message in my book. He told me to study harder at Korean and I read it and I felt kind of offended I know Korean quiet well but I translate in my mind so slowly that it feels like I do not know Korean the dissrespect but I will try harder. Thank you Subin for the encouragment

The end of it came soon after and the fansign ended after 10pm they had to go soon after they talked for about 10 minutes and then they left. when I finished my turn I like sunk down into my chair to hide the shame and I wanted to fade into nothingness but none the less it was fun and I love Victon still and I am sure they thing I am a real weirdo and that I am insane but I hope they think well of me since I am really in love with them as a whole :D I am getting better at talking with them though I have to work on my talking with Hanse I belive it will get better

[sonicmega]

Hm... I'm enthralled now. How did you come to do voice acting? Was it a sort of, spur of the moment? Or was it more so like a passion you wanted to pursue after highschool/college? I've also begun to wonder. What do you specifically do to change the timbre of your voice? I assume its different for every voice actor out there and, given your experience, you've most likely developed a method no? Lastly, how do you land jobs? Do you need a specific talent or is it more so fitting the voice color?

January 2007 

I discover that voice acting is a thing. My time spent on Neopets noticeably dwindles for the moment.

(Also none of these are specific moments that I think made or broke my career, I am just offering all relevant moments in time)

Feb/Mar 2007 

A man by the name of Deven “Mac” notices my frequent postings on Newgrounds - my fervent spamming, more like - and informs me about Voice Acting Club. Kira Buckland, 10 years younger, is finishing up school soon and has begun plans for moving out of Alaska to pursue life in Cali

March 2007 - 2008

Amateur Voice Acting AHOY! I audition for a shitload of projects, mostly fandubs. Mostly Newgrounds. my voice is terrible but my enthusiasm and energy is unyielding. Mac helps me with basic tenets of voiceover techniques and I also exhibit some pretty shitty behaviors (delaying submitting lines for weeks because I’m nervous about ‘doing them wrong’).

September 2008 

I get accepted into Western Michigan on a scholarship. I decide to major in Film/Video/Media studies because it’s 'the most similar to what I want to do’ (Voiceover) and decide to put more personal interests in as minors (Journalism, Japanese, Psychology).

The actual curriculum itself did jack shit for my career but it’s what I did during my time there that matters more.

2008-2012

Four years of college. I make friends within my interest groups but nearly all of my time is spent either in class or in my dorm room on my PC. OMGPOP is king of my time until Maplestory releases the Evan class.

More importantly, it was also the formative years of my freelance career.

I sign up for Voice123 membership. It goes horribly. Low ratings nearly all the time. I take on an audiobook job and deliver over-estimate by 7 goddamn months. Client is PISSED.A site called VoiceBunny also crops up; more suited for quick one-off jobs that don’t need 'the perfect voice’, just a suitable one. Extremely reliant on being at your computer at a moment’s notice.

I have no social life.

This meshes well.

Within college, I am constantly involved in things related to acting/voiceover.

- On-campus Sexual Health Peer Education group (skits and lectures) all 4 years of attendance. This also gave me opportunities to record voiceover for segments needing 'voice of god’- local radioplay group All Ears Theater (2 productions every 2-3 months, included a formal audition process and live performances in front of audiences for later broadcast via radio/web)- Audio Production class (as part of my Major) quick-learns me basic editing techniques, directly translates to my ability to do quickfire editing and turnaround now as a freelancer.- Continuing to do auditions for stuff for Voice Acting club. This is probably the most similar to many ‘Tumblr phase’ performers on here.Over time, constant exposure + guidance from peers/my mentor helps me to hone my skills. I still tend to 'loud-act’ things, IE using an unnecessarily loud/forceful voice for simple business narration,but I’m beginning to understand the intricacies of different styles (Commercial vs. Promo vs. character, etc)

January 2009

During winter break, on a ski trip with family, I learn about Anime Expo’s AX Idol competition. I tell my dad the one thing I want for my birthday present is funding to help go to this convention and compete. He obliges.

Summer 2009

I go to Anime Expo and compete in AX Idol for voiceover.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUQpkyfVYog

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-PwvyeM1jw

Things go well.

Fall 2009 - sometime 2011

Things DO NOT GO WELL. My victory at AX causes me to feel like I know what I am doing, leads to an almost 2 year stint of godawful delivery choices as I 'phone in’ performances like they’re just going to be good on foundation. My mentor is frustrated with me and at least one peer of mine actively thinks I don’t deserve the kinds of opportunities I’ve had over how hard he himself has worked.

2012

I graduate from college, determine that the only way I’m going to make progress is by forcing myself into the community where the industry exists. If I’m going to get workshops and studio auditions and actual non-online work, I need to be where the work is.

Summer 2012, 2 months after graduation

I move from Michigan to California

I have enough savings to cover about a year of rent if everything goes horribly horribly wrong (including losing every single freelance client I’d slowly built relationships with during college), but it’s obvious I need to find work to continue to stay out here.

I take a Graveyard shift job at Stanley security. It sucks my fucking soul out.

Meanwhile by day, I am still doing my freelance thing. I let BangZoom know I am now local. I work with my mentor on piecing together a demo both from good bits I’d done before and fresh content written for the demo, something I can show off to clients that is good enough to be worth listening to but that I can admit “I am new to the area and aiming to get my foot in the door for more professional work so that I can update my portfolio accordingly”

2012-2014

The Workshop Grind

Workshops with BangZoom, with Crispin Freeman, with VoiceTrax West, etc.

Through character archetype classes, I begin to understand where my inherent strengths lie (I already had an idea from my freelance side, but now I was able to confirm those strengths by having actual professionals go “You made great choices”)

BangZoom, meanwhile, SLOWLY works me up the chain of trust. I get called in for unpaid walla sessions just to see if I can meet appointments on time and follow directions.

Then unnamed 1-time characters in a crowd.

Then unnamed characters you can hear.

Then a recurring unnamed character.

Then at some point I get audition sides for something called Sword Art Online, for Kirito and Diabel. I initially only plan on auditioning for Kirito (dem Protagonist dweams) but have a last-minute Skype Workshop with Crispin about my auditions and get feedback from him.

He recommends I still try out for Diabel because it plays into my strengths and “why the hell not?”

I do.

2013-2014

Pretty much my ONLY studio work is coming from BangZoom, and it’s not frequent. I quit my job at Stanley only because I had some extra savings now and wanted to force myself to 'git gud’ instead of letting a safety net of money keep me from pursuing more.

But slowly, SLOWLY, through BangZoom auditions and the occasional booking, web strings begin to attach.

Out of personal interest, I do a brief stint as a QA tester for NIS America. This also happens around the time BangZoom is casting for DanganRonpa and Fairy Fencer F. My employment didn’t affect my audition chances, but it did solidify NISA’s knowledge of me as a voiceover artist.

I do some work for Ys: Memories of Celceta for a company called XSEED. Nothing comes of it until almost 3 years later, when a new localization lead named Brittany recalls my performance from Ys and says “I think he could be a really good fit for this dude named Rean Schwarzer”.

I land work on Killer Instinct through BangZoom. The director of that LOVES my performance, proceeds to slowly bring me back now and again for recurring roles on stuff like Gundam IBO and other projects.

Back to XSEED.I land my lead role in Trails of Cold Steel. Recording is at PCB Productions, who now knows I exist.

Everyone has a good time, I send my samples/demos to PCB (now updated further), they begin sending me THEIR audition sides as well.

At one point, a director for PCB I know well is collaborating with a studio called Cup of Tea on Akiba’s Beat. Kira has been working with Cup of Tea for YEARS but I had never had an opportunity to get in touch with them before now.

Director puts me in touch with Cup of Tea, who now knows I exist. Session goes decently, I tell them I am very interested in pursuing future work/auditions and would like to share my demos with them. They accept.For sake of time I will leave that thread where it is because I imagine you can understand what the underlying theme is.

Just a sporadic but progressive timeline of preparedness + Opportunity allowing me to expand my options.

Back to Workshop Side:

I continue actively pursuing workshops for other companies, especially VoiceTrax west. I sign up for “meet the pros” evenigns where I have a chance to perform + get feedback.

The workshop actively disclaimers that there is no expectation of getting work + it is intended to be a learning experience, but I go in with the mindset of “I’m going to leave them WANTING to work with me”.

With a much more thorough understanding of my strengths by now, I tend to do a formula of picking 1-2 characters I know I can do well, and one that is within my range but is relatively challenging. Worst case scenario I still leave a good impression, best case I completely surprise myself (and the host) and leave a lasting one.

This works out well. Said method greatly interests a representative from Mattel and one from Disney Parks (not the animation side, just the theme park side). I thank them for their time, ask if I can share demos with them/get their contact email, contact them and express interest in receiving audition opportunities.

Through one of these same workshops, I also meet my future agency, SBV Talent’s lead person Mary Ellen Lord. I do the same thing. Mary proceeds to circumvent SBV’s entire policy of “Referrals Only” representation to ask me to come to their offices to record an official application demo.Note that none of these workshop outcomes, or the workshops themselves, were things pointed to me by studios I was working for. This section was all self-driven/pursued (and also required me to be local).Since then, I’ve been continuing the routine of doing freelance work from home, sending out auditions for studio-hosted projects when the sides are provided to me, and generally working with my mentor when I have questions about approaching a certain character. Either because of personal growth or recent portfolio additions (or both), my success rate with booking new roles has kind of shot up; I’m hoping this trend continues for the foreseeable future.

[itsfinancethings]

New story in Politics from Time: Angela Davis In Conversation With Yara Shahidi: ‘We’re Doing Today What Should Have Started 150 Years Ago’

Actor and activist Yara Shahidi was born in 2000, three decades after Angela Davis began wielding her platform as a UCLA professor for radical activism. But their generational gap hasn’t stopped them from becoming friends or uniting in their efforts to dismantle white supremacy. The pair reconvened on Zoom to discuss the global nature of their struggle and the value of voting, regardless of ideology.

Yara Shahidi: Dr. Davis, I know it’s been almost a year since our last meeting, and so much has come to light in that time. Many people are talking about how unprecedented what we’re going through is, when, in reality, there have been generations of precedent set. What is the importance of opening the conversation to involve many generations?

Angela Davis: It seems like this is the moment we’ve been struggling to reach for many decades. It’s an extraordinary moment—and when conjunctures like this happen, they happen almost serendipitously. But if we have been doing the organizing work over the decades, then we can seize the moment.

But at the same time, I think we’re formulating questions and addressing issues in ways that ought to have happened in the immediate aftermath of slavery. We’re doing today what should have been started 150 years ago. Of course, beginning to eliminate or even minimize the impacts of racism on structures and institutions in our society is going to require a great deal of labor: intellectual labor, activist labor.

The focus has largely been on Black people. I’m glad about this. But we should also acknowledge how essential it is to understand racism against indigenous people, and what you might call the unholy alliance of colonialism and slavery-produced, racist state violence. So that when we examine all the complex ways in which anti-Black racism expresses itself in this country, we also should look at anti-indigenous and anti-Latinx state violence.

YS: It makes me think back to that event at the Underground Museum [when they first met], and how impactful it was for me as a high schooler to have a globalist perspective in regard to connecting our struggles here to our communities globally. Right now is another moment in which we’re witnessing a world visibly in crisis after generations of colonialism and imperialism. I was wondering, when facing what seems like many a problem, how we go about fighting for them all? Is there a perspective we can help cultivate that allows us to simultaneously dismantle systems of white supremacy that have happened globally?

AD: From the time I was very young, from the earliest period of my activism, I became convinced that our work has to be global. This insight came to me when I was in Paris for the first time. I was in college, and I went to France in search of a place without racism: I thought I would find ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité.’ Instead, what I found was the Algerian revolution. I joined demonstrations against the French government in support of their liberation.

In this country, It’s difficult to persuade people to think about what is happening in Brazil, or Africa, or the Middle East, because such a U.S.-centric focus has been encouraged. But I think this crisis of COVID-19 and the fact that almost all of our public interactions are happening virtually allows us to understand how easy it is to be connected to what is going on in other places. I think we can learn a great deal from listening to people who are involved in other struggles.

YS: I go back to the words of James Baldwin, when he talked about how one of the greatest sins of white supremacy was taking away our global language and our ability to communicate with one another, making it harder to actively disassemble these common evils and racisms. I think what you’ve said about being virtual is also something my generation is trying to utilize to the best of its ability. It feels like I and some of my peers have received great benefit from being in direct connection with one another on social media, regardless of where we are. At the same time, social media also has the tendency to allow us to disappear things as trends pop up and then fade. Something I’m trying to figure out is how we maintain consistent touchpoints and sustain conversations.

AD: Social media is very important. Unlike you, my formative years were not spent with these new technologies. My experience as an organizer involves knocking on people’s doors. I’ll never forget when H. Rap Brown was in jail, we raised $100,000 for his bail by going door to door in Los Angeles, largely in South Central, asking people to donate coins! That sounds prehistoric at this point.

But it’s still important to try to encourage that kind of contact. I know how important it was back in 2014, when Ferguson happened, for people involved in the BLM movement to visit Palestine: To witness with their own eyes what was happening in occupied Palestine, after the Palestinians were the first to express solidarity with them.

I think It’s so important to utilize the technology—to use it as opposed to allowing the technology using us. As a friend of mine pointed out many years ago, how many likes you have is not necessarily an indication of the organizing work you’ve done.

YS: I can look at every photo I’ve posted and see how many people have shared it. It then creates a hierarchy of what we think makes an impact rather than what actually does. One question I had tangentially: Being a part of the social media world is often how one develops a political opinion. Do you have guidance for young people developing an opinion now, on how to develop a non-reactionary politic?

AD: As a person involved in education for the vast majority of my life, it’s so important to not to confuse information with knowledge. In this day and age, we all walk around with these cell phones that give us access to a vast amount of information. But that does not mean as a result that we are educated. Education relies precisely on learning the capacity to formulate questions—what we call critical thinking. Learning how to raise questions not only about the most complicated issues, but about the seemingly simplest issues, so important.

This is one of the reasons I find the trans movement so important. When one learns how to question the validity of the binary notion of gender, one is questioning that which has persistently been the most normal context of people’s lives. The work of ideology happens in those seemingly normal spaces.

This is also why the police-abolition campaign has been so important. Prisons and the police state are assumed to have been with us forever. So we begin to ask questions about how we address issues of harm without replicating the violence: how we create safety by not resorting to the same tools of violence that are responsible for us being unsafe.

YS: I love the wording of “questioning the most simple.” This summer, I was going through an African philosophy canon, and what it highlighted for me is these Euro-centric or U.S.-centric norms that have been established. For readers who are submersed in Western media, are there other texts we should be turning to subvert these norms?

AD: I’m reading this book now that’s on my desk: Françoise Vergès’ A Decolonial Feminism. Speaking of which, I know you’re passionate about feminism. I’m interested in how that passion is expressed in the social-justice work you’ve been doing over the last period.

YS: At first, my interest came from, “How do I interrogate my own identity?” I realized for so long that the primary prism through which I viewed most things was through being a brown and Black person in the world. It’s been an ongoing process of being more honest in my experience and the ways my identities layer on top of each other. What does it look like to structure a movement strong enough to hold many of our truths in one, while still actively dismantling the lack of equity that is often tied to presenting as a woman?

How has the hetero-normative tradition influenced the rest of our trajectory? While I do voting work, what does that mean to know that the solutions presented to us on the ballot aren’t perfect? How do I engage with voting while engaging with this larger movement of equity in these spaces?

AD: So, how do you?

YS: The conclusion I’ve come to is that it is by no means the only means of civic engagement. It is actively necessary to engage throughout the year in whatever way -possible—and the months of continued protests have helped nuance this conversation. There can no longer be this binary of whether to vote or not is the difference between having an equitable society and not.

AD: Or to assume there has to be a perfect candidate in order for us to participate in the electoral process. I was severely criticized when I suggested during the last election that we all needed to vote, even though the candidate was not the one we wanted. It was a difference between a candidate that would allow our movements to flourish, which would also include being extremely critical of that candidate once she was elected to office—or be faced with the alternative we have experienced. I’m someone who historically has not been excited at all about the electoral arena. I was excited only to the extent I knew how important achieving the right to vote was, because I myself wasn’t able to register in my home state of Alabama when I first attempted to. I always tended to vote for the other parties: The Communitist Party, the Peace and Freedom Party.

Now, and I hope I haven’t gotten less radical in my framework, but I think that we vote for our own capacity to continue to do the work that will bring about change. Individuals don’t change history or create transformative moments. Every major change in this country has been a consequence of a kind of collective imagination. So we have to ask, Will this candidate enable that kind of arena or shut it down? In a sense, when we vote, we’re either voting for ourselves or against ourselves.

YS: I love the term imagination. One of the strategies of white supremacy is to take away the potential of the Black imaginary. We’re in a moment right now of world building—in which it’s time to build a world not based on precedent, or even in reaction to the systems that have been set up, but truly independent, based on these values of equity.

So I view this election as an opportunity to reclaim our space for imagination. We know the people we vote for will not be perfect, but we will dedicate our time to actively critiquing and moving forward. We know at the very least, that overt white supremacy won’t be sanctioned. Not to say it won’t be allowed. There just may be more space for us.

Moderated by Andrew R. Chow

from Blogger https://ift.tt/2FGWvx4 via IFTTT