#and better yet i wish destruction on the systems that put me in a lucky position at the expense of others

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

Not to be one of those adults but it's so funny how grown up things eventually start happening to you whether you think you're ready or not

I'm a gremlin, I wfh in my sweat pants, I think about anime in all my spare time. I had chicken nuggets for lunch today and I'm behind on my laundry. I tend to get overstimulated in the cereal aisle. But because I get on my computer every day and answer messages, my work doesn't know what to do without me and keeps giving me more money. 🤨 I didn't know I was capable of having a stable job for years but here I am?? They don't know how I live and don't care as long as I come to work and answer emails?? 🤨 How did this happen hahaha

[pradadoie]

A full translation of the third victim’s post - Part 1

T/N; Hey guys. Due to Tumblr’s post limit, I will post the convo translations on the second part of the post. Keep in mind that the situation is still going on and we should stay neutral. This is also not a XX hate post, I am merely translating this as this is a matter heavy post. Do not send threats or hate messages to any party involved and read this post with a clear and neutral mind. If anybody (Especially those fluent in mandarin) wants to make corrections on my post, please do so - this is my first time translating something like this. Thank you. 

At first, I didn’t want to speak up about this issue. This is because everybody including myself thought that we’ve broken up on good terms. To be honest, this incident did not cause me harm in terms of mental wellness or any other form, which was why I initially decided to forget about it and move on with my life. 

However, after reading yesterday’s posts (containing the allegations + timeline), what I noticed was my experiences overlap with the other victims, and many girls have come out to relay their experiences with him. I also found out that he would talk behind a girl’s back in order to scam a different girl and started up rumors about her - this made me feel betrayed. I felt that this situation isn’t as simple as it seems, and I don’t know whether there will be more victims coming out. I just hope that people would get a wake up call after reading my post/experience, and see him for the person he truly is - I also hope that there will be no more victims.

Pic 1 - Contact with HXX: At first, I was just a fan of his and I really liked him - which was why I attended some of his events/schedules. Until one day, I received an airdrop with the name “luca’s iphone” attached, I used an ID with my name on it to send him a sticker/meme for fun. From then on, we started contacting each other and added each other on Wechat. At first, I felt like a main character/lucky female lead in a romance drama - turns out, I wasn’t the only main character/female lead in his life. 

Pic 2 - Spending the night with HXX: After learning that the location (where he had his schedule) was close to my place, he immediately suggested he come over and visit my house, as he wanted to go somewhere with nobody around. 

He was somebody of the opposite sex as well as somebody I really liked, therefore I started to overthink. I asked him if he had a girlfriend and he replied that he didn’t have one. If I knew he had a girlfriend during that time, I would have never invited him over to my house and cut all contact.  

On that day, I thought that there would be a romance blossoming between us. After his schedule, he went back to his hotel before coming over to my place. I even asked him: “Does your manager know about this? (For a more direct translation, she asked “Does your manager not care?”)” He mentioned that his manager was asleep in the other room and was not aware that he (HXX) went out to visit her. 

The first thing he did after stepping into my house was smoke, he even invited me to smoke with him. After that, both of us started drinking and chatting. He mentioned that his best friend (who has not debuted yet) during his trainee days was useless and good for nothing, ranting about how his teammates never put in any effort during practice and never listened, ranted about how a teammate of his stole his fashion related opportunities, and also ranted about how some members are untalented and only debuted due to their visuals. He also mentioned how he disliked Keep Running as he didn’t like how tiring it is and how his seniors give him a lot of pressure. He disliked how his fans gathered at the airport to take his photos etc. He also opened up about how his family wasn’t doing well financially, how his dad’s investments failed, expressed his wish to save money to buy a house and a car and whatnot, and then started ranting about how society is unfair. During that time, I thought he was just a genuine, hardworking boy. However, after seeing many victims expose him of his ways, he was just using this to gain sympathy from me and take advantage of me (translation here may be inaccurate, please correct me if I’m wrong.) 

Back then, although I was surprised, I thought that his image was far from his true self. He was always preaching about how much hard work he puts in and mentioned that Iwas the only person who understood how he felt. He gave me the impression that he was realistic and bright, and made me misunderstood that he was someone I could have a heart to heart talk with. After spending the night at my house, he left the next day for his upcoming schedules. 

Pic 3 - Demanding for presents

Before arriving at my house, he made excuses about how he didn’t bring enough clothes and asked if I could buy some clothes for him before he came over. He even pointed out the brands he preferred (He wanted Saint L*urent, B*lenciaga, and said he didn’t want B*rberry because he disliked the brand - ironic because he is a brand ambassador for that brand) 

Pic 4 - Follow up

Before his schedules, I would ask if he wanted me to go/follow him. He always responded saying it was a waste of time and said I should be prioritizing my studies (and many other excuses). At first, I thought he was being sincere and genuinely thought that he was concerned about my wellbeing. Turns out, he didn’t want me there because he was meeting other people. I was the fool in the end. (Direct translation: Turns out, I was the clown)

When I followed him to his schedules, he would repeatedly ask if I had a house, whether I was living alone, etc. After I told him I had a roommate, he disappeared and did not reply to my texts over the next few days. 

I couldn’t bear with the mixed signals and the confusing feelings. During December, I decided to confront him about his ways. However, he ignored my attempts to talk, using his schedules as an excuse to avoid talking to me. After somebody exposed his teammate (?), he kept on telling me that “we’re just friends” and warned me to not expose him. After that conversation, I saw his true colors and cut off all contact with him. I would also like to say that I am grateful for my upbringing and my assertiveness - if the victim was someone who was emotionally fragile or lacked a good support system (or love), would she develop psychological/mental problems (T/n: read between the lines - she’s hinting that somebody could have gotten insecurities/change in mindset that will lead them to do/develop something worse because of his actions) because of scum like him?

During our period of contact, I have repeatedly asked him if he had a girlfriend or whether he was in contact with other girls. All the replies he gave me were “No.” (Refer to Pic 5) He also mentioned that he never drank with other girls as well. I really believed his lies back then, thinking he was just somebody yearning for love. Today, I discovered that he used his idol persona and fans’ love to fulfill his own needs and scam/cheat others, flirting with other women despite having a girlfriend himself, went to different cities to meet different girls and treat them like a personal harem. He also talked behind every girls’ back, constantly speaking ill of them. His behavior made us (OP and the other victims) feel worthless. I acknowledge that issues like this will be forgotten easily as time goes by, and that people would nitpick on this issue and blame this incident on my behavior, for the way I threw myself into a fire of destruction. 

In the end, I hope that people like me - who blindly followed and believed him - will open their eyes and see his true side - I hope that you will know better and don’t get hurt the way I did and bear the pressure I faced. Lastly, I hope that all boys and girls alike will no longer suffer from people like him.

[livingdeadinsideyourhead]

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

[lycorogue]

A Family Tradition: Giving Thanks Tree

Tina Belcher - Image care of “Bob’s Burgers” on Fox

When I was a kid - I can’t even remember how old I first was - my mother would tape a cardboard cutout of a bare tree onto the attic door. Along its trunk were the words “Giving Thanks Tree”. She would then hang up a manila envelope filled with leaves cut out of red, orange, and yellow construction paper. Our goal for the month of November, leading into Thanksgiving? Write just one thing we’re thankful for each day and then hang it up on the cardboard tree so it is full by the end of the month.

As a child I HATED this tradition. It was so hard for me to think of 30 unique things I was grateful for, and usually ended up with generic things like “food” or “a home” or “boys” (I was a bit like Tina there). It wasn’t until college did I truly get the value of taking a few minutes each day to think about a blessing in your life you may have otherwise taken for granted. It was hard for me my freshman year of college to know I couldn’t participate in the family Giving Thanks Tree, so, with a new appreciation for the tradition, I made my own cardboard tree, hung it on my dorm room door, posted a sign explaining the tradition, and put out my own envelope of paper leaves for my floormates to join in. I was a naïve 18yo, but thankfully no one posted joke leaves. I was surprised at how many joined in on my tradition as I filled my tree with gratitudes. (I later brought my leaves home to post on the family tree).

In 2011 I got married and officially moved out of my mother’s home. I have yet to find a good wall or door to hang a big ol’ cardboard tree, so instead I switched to a digital list. This year I had decided to share to more than my personal Facebook page. I tried posting daily on Twitter as a month-long thread, but... well, it didn’t go so well, so I stopped after day 13, I think. I did finish the thread over on Facebook, and I decided to bring the complete list over to Tumblr.

So, for any who are interested, below the break is my list of 30 things I was grateful for this past November; things I hope to remain grateful for well beyond the next year. Always remember to stop to count your blessings. If you really try to find them, you will discover you have more than you might have realized.

1. I am grateful that my friends and family have been (mostly) safe and healthy this year, and that those who did contract COVID-19 were able to recover. ❤ (*proceeds to knock on wood*)

2. I am grateful for the amazing support system I have. I know I am one of the lucky ones, but between my husband, my family, my friends, and even my readers, I have so much positivity lifting me up, and I want to make sure I never take that for granted.

3. I am grateful to have a stable roof over my head. It's a decent size for two people (we just have a LOT of things). It has sturdy walls & a secure roof. We can keep it warm in the winter and cool in the summer (not cool enough for Hubby, but nothing outside a meat locker would be). We have an attentive but not intrusive landlady. She repairs anything that needs fixing ASAP, and is a lovely woman we can just pal around with on occasion. Those are things I know a lot of people can't say about their landlords/ladies. We also have welcoming neighbors that are a joy to run into in the parking lot. If we have to be "stuck" somewhere until we can buy our own place, where we are works wonderfully.

4. I am grateful that we are no longer hurting for money. We can splurge on smaller purchases (under $50) without much second thought. We can now pay off ALL of our monthly bills after just the first paychecks of the month. And then the rest of the month is building up funds for the next month's bills and savings. Speaking of, we have a little nest-egg of a couple grand, which is still relatively new for us. I'm also over-paying my student loans and car payment. Not by much, but enough that my bills are a couple months ahead, so... cool. I know that during this year in particular, having any sort of financial security is hard to hold onto, so I want to count our blessings that we're doing alright. *proceeds to knock on wood again*

5. As silly as it seems to say, I am grateful for all of the election memes. It was a super stressful time for most of us, and to have some sort of humor that most of the country could relate to (such as Flash from Zootopia being in charge of counting Nevada's votes) was a great stress reliever and bringer of much-needed smiles. So, thank you, Meme Lords/meme creators for bringing us such fantastic content to help ease that wait and stress.

6. I am grateful to see that my Muse is slowly returning to me, like a groundhog after a long hibernation, poking its head out just enough to acknowledge it's there before scurrying back into its burrow to hide again. It hasn't been much, and only one story was actually written in November, but I have been playing with a handful of plotbunnies. It's nice to be able to de-stress via plot-building and playing with character growth again. 😊 ❤

7. I'm sure you all saw this coming, but I am grateful that T**** lost the election. Not so much that Biden/Harris won, because there's issues there too, but that T**** will be out of the White House. Mostly, I'm grateful because that means so many that I love - and those online personalities that I respect - are going to be in a safer America (and world) as of January 20th. For those who suffered through physical, mental, emotional, financial, and maybe even spiritual hardships over the past 4 years - both Americans and international citizens alike - I am grateful that you get to take a breath and relax (at least, for a little bit) now. I don't know if Biden/Harris will (or can) do anything to actually help heal what caused my loved ones' suffering, but at least they won't be actively adding to it.

8. Getting away from the political, I am grateful that Hubby and I can eat whenever we want (outside of work). We may grumble about what we have available, but that's mostly due to not having the energy to turn ingredients into meals, or we've had the same meal 3x in a row already. Regardless, we CAN eat whenever we are hungry, and I am grateful for that.

9. Keeping with the "things people can take for granted easily" theme, I am grateful for my wardrobe. It may be simple and repetitive, but it is enough to wear something clean each day for anywhere between 7 and 12 days before needing to run to the laundromat. Nothing has holes or ratty edges (unless it's a beloved shirt I refuse to give up). My shoes have good soles to them, and I rarely have sore feet. When my feet DO get repeatedly sore, I have the funds to either fix my shoes via new insoles, or I can simply buy new ones. My coats are warm and, aside from one missing the grip of the zipper (but the zipper itself still works), they are still in good condition. I may not be the most fashionable, and I'm sure I'm not picking the best clothing to fit my body shape, but over-all, I'm protected from the elements, my body is protected, and I am well-kempt.

10. Kept me too long to mention this, but I am grateful that I was able to marry my best friend. There are those out there still looking for companionship. There are those who found it, but, in some cruel twist of fate, lost it. There are those who love their spouse, but may not exactly be friends with them. And yet, here Hubby and I are: two people who would gladly spend every waking moment with each other. I found someone I could chat and cuddle and laugh and cry with every moment of every day. Someone I share interests with, and someone who expands my list of interests. Someone who also expands my view of the world; who makes me wish to be more understanding and accepting, and just... better. I am lucky, and I never want to see a day when I forget that fact.

11. I feel a bit silly with this one, but I am grateful I don't have any major allergies I have to worry about. Specifically, no food allergies. I've seen how difficult it is for people to navigate around food allergies or intense airborne allergies. To have to not think about those sorts of things is such a privilege, and I'm truly grateful for it. I have enough issues with lactose intolerance.

12. Another kinda silly one, but, I'm grateful for @dragnime​ living next door to us. Same was true for when another friend was our neighbor. There's just something about seeing dragnime’s car when I come home (again, same with the other friend and his car) that makes me smile. I don't have to actually socialize with dragnime that day if we're both busy, but to see his car and know he's there should I want to reach out is just a weird sort of comforting. (Man, I really need Hubby and I to win the lottery so we can build our commune already....)

13. I am grateful for publicly announced self-appointed deadlines. Last year I started up my own tradition within the Miraculous Ladybug fandom: Friday 13ths should be Plagg Appreciation Day. Plagg is a character who, I feel, doesn't get nearly enough love or screen time. He's also the kwami of bad luck and destruction, so... Friday 13th seemed fitting. The final bit of writing I had actually finished and posted prior to November was for this fandom holiday back in March, and at the end of that story I told everyone "see you in November!" so I felt silly if I'd let this poor-writing year defeat me. I was determined to have at least THIS story written, and that determination paid off. It ended up taking almost literally my entire day off, but I was able to become inspired enough to write SOMETHING, and it seems to be received well, so... added yay. 😊

14. I am grateful for my relatively easy life. I have been loved and supported my whole life. I never really experienced abuse or prejudice (or even really bullying) personally. I was able to fully experience college without much personal trouble (my student loan debt notwithstanding). Aside from a single 6-month stint right after moving to NY, I have been able to find work easily enough. I haven't had to struggle for food or clothing or housing (stretch budget, yes; struggle, no). I haven't had to live without electricity or clean running water. I've never lost loved ones or valuable items (even sentimentally) through natural disasters. *knock on wood some more* There have been struggles in my life, to be sure, but, on the whole, I've had a happy, safe, supported, and relatively easy life.

15. I'm calling out @chibisunnie​ specifically. I am so SO very grateful for her. I mean, I always am, but this year in particular she's been such a pillar of strength for me. I can't even imagine the stress and panic this year must cause her, and yet she's still always there to comfort ME. (I mean, I hope I comfort her too, but this year in particular I feel it's more her comforting me.) She's been the main one (right behind Hubby) to remind me to be kind to myself this year and that it IS an unusual year; my "failings" in 2020 don't define who I am seeing it's an outlier year.

16. I am grateful that my sister is seeing her true self-worth. She’s worked so hard to improve herself and to find out who she truly is, and it's been fantastic to see her continue to evolve. It's also great to see her find someone who builds her up, so a side bit of gratitude to her boyfriend. And, yes, her perseverance, strength, and determination (as well as her mad crocheting skills) are still things that I greatly admire in her. I'm just so happy and proud and grateful that she seems to be in such a good place. ❤

17. I am grateful that my mom has discovered how capable she truly is. This year has been undeniably hard on small businesses such as hers. It must be such a struggle to keep everything afloat and to stay positive, and yet she is. She's pushing herself to improve her business and marketing. She's dealing with modern technology – basically the bane of her existence – nearly all day long between Zoom meetings to network and learn and grow, to working remotely, to making videos to help promote herself, to reworking her business's website, etc. She's grown so much over the year and I'm so proud of her.

18. Since I mentioned it, I am grateful for video conference programs such as Zoom. Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts, exhaustion, and my right knee getting worse, I had to stop doing Zumba (I'm hoping to work my way back into the routine again sooner than later). However, before June screwed me over, Zoom was how I was able to keep up with this exercise routine post-shutdown. It's how I've been able to see my family. It's how so many have been able to continue working. It's how YouTubers I enjoy manage to still interact for their videos. It's fantastic that this technology is not only available, but it's also accessible to so many.

19. Speaking of which, I am grateful for the Oxboxtra crew, Dicebreaker, the Theory Family (yes, I’m aware people find MatPat problematic...), SuperCarlinBrothers, OSP, Hello Future Me, and The Warp Zone. In total, that’s nearly a dozen different YouTube channels I routinely watch – focused mostly on OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, Film Theory, Game Theory, Food Theory, and SuperCarlinBrothers – and these channels have really helped me keep my sanity. The fandoms specifically for OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, and SuperCarlinBrothers are just so sweet and supportive of even fellow fans. The YouTubers have such big hearts and are so delightfully goofy, it's almost like welcoming friends into my home whenever I watch them. I even started checking out stuff on Luke Westaway's and Ellen Rose's private channels on YouTube because I enjoyed these entertainers so much. So, thank you, YouTubers, for helping me find something that lets me forget what's going on in the world for 2hrs and just have fun. ❤

20. Along those lines, I am grateful for games such as Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Among Us. Both of those games, and similar ones that were available this year, were great distractions from the chaos of 2020. They have provided fantastic and unique gameplay content for the YouTube channels I follow, which, in turn, provided great video content for me to watch. These types of games were also, and most importantly, great ways for people to stay connected. I've been able to bond and joke around and preoccupy myself with games and gaming streams, and they have certainly been such great lifelines.

21. I am grateful for quiet cuddle moments. Be it in the evening while Hubby and I are watching TV, or while we're actually snuggled in bed watching Disney+ or Netflix, or after hitting snooze in the morning and just wanting to stay cuddled together for another 5 minutes, or even when one of us (*cough*usuallyme*cough*) is feeling super stressed and we just take a couple-minute time-out to just hug, I am grateful for all of them. I know not every couple gets to have these physical contact moments for various reasons, add in my own experience of having an 8-year long-distance relationship, and I try so hard to not take those quiet moments of just simple hugs or hand holds or back scratches for granted.

22. I am grateful for music and the ability to experience it. It motivates me. It inspires me (I have so many stories/chapters written because a song made me think of the plot). It helps with cathartic release. It gets me moving and exercising. It keeps me focused. It allows me to just zone out. Music is just so important in my life and the life of so many more. Bless all the music creators and performers.

23. I am grateful for Anime Night. It's a bit of normalcy in this year of anything but. It's a way to stay connected with a couple of my friends, and the little bits of socializing we do outside of watching has really allowed me to get to know both men more, as well as learn more about the other people really important in their lives.

24. I am grateful for the experience of turning fans into friends (and also being allowed to evolve from fan to friend). One of the best things about fanfiction is the ability to see people interact and react with your work, and to then respond in kind. It's sort of a silver lining to the relatively small number of views and comments on most fanfiction (compared to most professionally published work, that is), since it means you aren't too overwhelmed to truly experience each comment, follow, fave, like, reblog, etc. Through people gushing about my work, and me gushing back at how happy they've made me, I've been able to build up some really sweet friendships. I've also made two new close-acquaintances (we don't interact QUITE enough to be “friends��� just yet) from my own gushy reviews and their responses to how great my reviews made them feel. So, to @chibisunnie​, @thetauruspixie​, @livrever​, @tlos21​, @chanceuseladynoire​ and @zenmisery​ (I hope that's all of you), I am so grateful for the bond we've had over fanfiction. Love all of you so much! ❤

25. I am grateful for members of minorities and other marginalized peoples for taking the time and effort to try to educate others; making it easier on us when they are in no way obligated to help us understand at all (it's really on us to put in the effort to try to understand them). This year alone, via personal posts on social media, infographics, comics, people posting reference sheets of hotlinks to research/source materials, etc, I was able to learn so much. I was able to grow and try to overcome my own prejudices, misunderstandings, and misinformation. All because people decided to share their raw experiences or do the research for me. It was something each and every one of them volunteered to do in an effort to help educate, and I am so grateful for the lessons they've taught me.

26. I am grateful that people find me a safe person to talk to. It is one of the few things I want in life; to be a safe haven for friends, family, and even strangers who are hurting. I realize the amount of trust people put in me and the vulnerability they are allowing themselves. It is humbling, to say the least, but also such an amazing feeling. I will try to keep learning and keep growing to keep earning the trust warranted me being this safe haven, but in the meantime, I'll continue to be grateful that people do find me as someone they can be safe with.

27. On the flipside, I am grateful to have friends who allow me to just be who I am. I can be obsessed with a cartoon aimed at 10 year olds (Miraculous Ladybug), and my friends not only don't judge, but they also happily let me know when their young children start to enjoy the show! I can be goofy or forgetful or screw something up, and, again, there's no judgment. They just accept me as I am, and I am blessed.

28. I am grateful for the support my friends and family have (outside of me) in their lives. It does my heart well to know that even if I disappear due to my own mental health issues, that my friends and family still have great support around them. They are all kind people surrounded by more kind people, and I nearly cry whenever I read or hear about my friends getting support they need and the outpouring of support. YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE AND I LOVE YOU ALL AND EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU DESERVE THE OUTPOURING OF SUPPORT YOU'VE FOUND. ❤

29. I am grateful for the continued bonding we've had with my sister-in-law this past year. I miss having the post-Zumba walk where we can just talk, but, largely through effort on her part, we've been having some time every Tuesday when she comes over to work after dropping the kids at school. We also had a whole evening with her on Black Friday. She's also texted and called a few times to chat, and we are getting closer and closer each year. Not everyone thinks of their in-laws as family despite what the law says, so I'm grateful that we have always thought of each other as family, and that we continue to bond and grow as siblings.

30. I am grateful for this family tradition. It allows me to really focus on what is important in life, and all the joys and blessings I've experienced. It's especially important during this trash heap of a year. I love that I can find silver linings in my life and appreciate what I have. This tradition is also a reminder to not take things for granted. I am so SO grateful that my mom introduced us to this tradition and forced us to participate as we grew up. It's a lesson that will stay with me, and it's such an important one. Thank you, Mom!

[currentfandomkick]

JL confronts Marinette

From bio!dad Strange au, where they made her kryptonian to keep her alive. This is post-Hawkmoth (debating using a random and revamping Gabriel altogether tbh)

“Don’t.” Marinette was tired of heroes, tired of being one. She had to handle hawkmoth’s fallout, keeping so many secret identities (hers, JL, miraculus team, her gotham family’s) and she just wanted to sleep.

Flash found her first, but Superman grabbed her and put her in the air for a ‘talk’.

“Don’t what?” She knew superman wasnt a detective. She knew he was a reporter though and she could see baiting and needling just under the surface. He’s an interrigator then, she decided.

“Don’t come in and try to fix what the miraculous team already handled. Paris was abbadonned by your league.”

She figured this was about Ladybug. Paris is always going off the the miraculous holders and ladybugs were always deemed the defacto leaders. She liked that Daesuqa (Talia) took over leading long term missions for the most part, handled meetings and politics so her and Chat and the others could be more like the teens they are in theory.

And everyone knew Marinette was Chat Noir’s favorite after she got how many akumatized people to release their akuma on their own? And that she supplied mirauclous users with kwami food (though it was common for many other civilians). It was common knowledge to all, but Hawkmoth apparently, that if Chat or his miraculous team or the entire team was needed, you went to Marinette.

Superman furrowed his brow at that though. “I didn’t know there was an active team here.”

So it wasn’t about the miraculous or years of magic terrorism her city endured?

“Been here for years. Hawkmoth’s sentencing is in a few hours.”

She hoped it was the kwami’s choice. Tikki murmured that people were surprised by what they could live through, and she is thw kwami of life. Tikki would make him wish he was dead routinely. He deserved it for regualrly slaughtering the city.

“No, that’s...” superman shook his head. “I came here to talk to you about...” he gestures to her then. She didn’t get it until she realized she was floating on her own.

When did he let her go?

“I know you’re Princess.”

Marinette’s blood stopped then. No. He can’t. They can’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know Chloe changed my handle to Princess of Paris a few years ago but indont think heroes can stalk teens for that.”

Good, play into that. Distract until someone you trust can come. She hit an alert on her phone while he wasnt looking.

Pegasus should be here soon.

“I know you know it only as the Chimera project.”

Wrong. It was the surgery that kept her alive.

“And i know you’ve been poisoning yourself to stay hidden.”

Antidotes came from venom. It was fone to ise the stickers, they kept her human. The crystals were for emergencies only.

“What I don’t get is why.”

Why would she want him to kidnap, or abduct her? Take her from her family? Her life?

Don’t show that you’re who he thinks, anvocie whispered. Keep being the Paris Marinette from social media. The savage who snarled Weredad into submission.

“I really think you have the wrong girl. Its listed under my file as a volunteer flyer that i’m a flying meta, like most of the flyers.” Good, keep it up.

“And superman, if I had to guess why some girl that i look like would supress their powers, its becuase this is France and until the Miraculous team came clean about some being meta, you were imprisoned on suspicions of being meta, even infants were, are in the rest of France. Paris is the only place you arent imprisoned for it.”

Superman paled at that. “I. I wasn’t aware.”

“why would you be?”

Superman did respond to that.

“And if this Princess of yours is still hiding, she might be protecting her loved ones. Or maybe she thinks you’d steal her away from her life and home? Everyone knows about the fortress of solitude and i dont think anyone besides you would like living there, especially so far from people.”

Marinette watched him process. As long as Red Robin didnt see her, didnt confirm her identity, she was in the clear.

“Now if you’d excuse me, I’m needed to finish filling out a report on the final battle.”

That had superman’s attention.

“Final battle.”

“Yes, we just took down Hawkmoth a week ago.”

“He already has his trial, in a week.” Disbelief. Not worng either.

“It took the citizens of paris a week to finish voting. Finally tallies come in tonight if we try him as humans or if the kwami—gods of various concepts—are the ones to try him for his crimes. Afterall, he enslaved one kwami and abused another.”

Superman was not doing well, far too pale. Shock? No, they sent so many videos before the JL banned them.

Guilt. Regret, too. Probably.

“Now can you put me down somewhere? I’m not out as a meta and indont plan on being out anytime soon. Any supporting the miraculous teams do have their enemies too, and i dont want to be targetted.”

Superman nodded. Numb? Possible.

She let hersef be taken down.

Pegasus was there, Flash on his way. Another person who could make her.

She had to move fast.

“I hope I cleared things up?”

Superman nodded.

Max was ready to fight, glaring at the blue boyscout.

“Ready to go Miss DC?”

Marinette nodded, letting him guide her to the portal.

Flash didnt make it in, but he didnt see her face either. She’s take the narrow victory.

They exited in the Paris Grande Hotel. The Mayor had Batman and Red Robin with him. Crap.

“Is this...”

“Our civilian contact, Miss DC,” Pegasus stated almost too professionally. Great, now Red would know they know each other as friends. batman too.

“Batman, Red Robin, correct?”

“Yes. We, we just found your heroes videos and came to help. I see we’re too late too.”

Marientte nodded, avioding eye contact with Red. She wasnt sure if he learned to act infront of Batman yet, and wasnt risking it.

“I heard you came up with many of the emergency procedures and built the comms system with Pegasus.”

“As a flyer, yes. As Miss DC I just make sure the team stays fed and Chat doesnt forget to sleep.”

Batman shot Red Robin a look as he said, “I know the feeling.”

Marinette didnt fight the smile then. Yes, that was her Hero Stalker Tim alright.

“Would you two be interested in helping the league develop a better system to sort incoming messages?”

Pegasus moved first. “If we do, Miss DC is to be left alone. Her mother is very atrict about her not getting involved in science, and refuses to believe that her daughter has been actively helping the miraculous team.”

Batman turned his attention to Marinette then. “Is that so?”

Marinette nodded. “My birth father and her left on... terms i never got the jist of. He and his friends teach me in secret. Mama,” not maman, she forced herself to say, “she said something about it being destructive and dangerous, so she wants me to stick to the arts instead.”

Batman nodded. “Experiments can be, but that doesnt undercut the good you’ve done. I’ll tell the league you will work off-site should you accept.”

Marinette nodded along. “I can help where Pegasus gets stuck, and be contacted through him but otherwise would prefer not to be contacted by the League. I’m a civilian, and no offense, but there ahve been leaks before.”

“Understandable. The league thanks you for your help, and apoligizes for what you went through.”

Marinette could feel the hole Red Robin was burning into her. He earings. And the fox miraculous. Shit. He knew.

Marinette wanted to punch the league in their face collectively.

“All May i go now, i have a meeting to get to.”

“Of course.”

Pegasus opened the portal and escorted her out.

They both waited five minites, Max feeding Kaalki, for the call.

“So why didnt you tell me?” Tim was pissed.

“Media blackout. Any time i tried to call it was blocked.”

Tim swore. “Alfred!”

“You are so lucky Pegasus doesnt know anything about gotham.”

“He’s there?”

“I work with him alot.”

“So when you visited Gotham...”

“French government would know. Not hard to connect the dots of girl leaves to see gotham fmaily and suddenly the league shows up after banning all of Paris from contact.”

“I. When did it happen?”

“Before Chrismas. I would have had Nonna tell you but she didnt know either until after the fact and they said if she told anyone itd be me going to jail for her.”

“That’s. What hellscape do you live in?”

“I died so many times i don’t even know now.” She stopped keeping track after she got into the eighties. That wasn’t even a full year into being Ladybug.

“That’s not comforting.”

“Please tell me that you’re not outing me to Bats. I just got two leaguers off my tail.”

“I won’t tell him, but if the new Robin does i’m not stopping him.”

She almost forgot Talia’s son was a Robin. She didnt see him in uniform yet—as Damian (not wayne but damian who was mourning lost family, damian who didnt know how to talk to people his age). She knows he’s a bit thick with social cues, and his detective skills need work in her opinion but he’s skeptical and has good insticts. He might make her as Marinette if he’s there.

“Is he...”

“He’s with the Titans now, but theyre debating coming here to yell at the league.”

“Videoing it?”

“Obviously. Want a copy?”

“Ill make popcorn before watching.”

“Rkc are doing well by the way—stopped a human trafficking ring and i think they took the victims.”

“Harley’s working with them,” marientte got he update earlier. “Hood and zsasz took out the lower and mid tier that woudlnt snitch. The case should be smooth sailing—the sirens put out a blanket hit on anyone trying to touch the witnesses.”

“So managing two teams this whole time,” red murmured, almost... bitter, or disapointed in something—no someone. Himself?

“Just tweaking things. Daesuqa handles most the team since she found me and Chat. Apparently she was compatible enough to do a lot of the non-fighting work. I still did battle strategy and all but,” Marinette shrugged.

“She focused in survival aspects here, and long term stability for Gotham. Daesuqa has handled most of non-kwami work here outside of kwami and candidates,” Max added. “On top of her work as a student and designer and inventor.”

Red Robin groaned. “When do you sleep?”

Marinette hummed. “I have meds to make me. And angry family to make me take them.”

“Her... what are we calling him now?” Mac was asking about Felix, adiren’s gremlin cousin who’s mom isntryign to adopt her. Also a fellow reverse theif and possessive friend.

“Uh, gremlin.”

“Her gremlin calls to let is know if she does get rest on the weekends and we trade off on weekdays.”

Red robin hummed into the phone. “So staying to the shadows?”

Trixx and Tikki looked up at Marinette at that. tikki wanted her to be the Ladybug, the be seen and everywhere and she...

Trixx knew why Marinette liked the shadows and background. Trix understood that bit.

“Yeah, i’ll still play in between and have some kwami things for life now.” She and Chat were working out gaurdian duties still.

She wasnt interested in the JL.

@emeraldpuffguide @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @mystery-5-5 @weird-pale-blonde-person @dast218

[the--highlanders]

for the drabble game, situation 17 (because I'm predictable dklsjnb) and sentence 2, or situation 6 and sentence 28? :3 <3

“I just want to let you know that I love you. A lot. Never forget that.” 

on ao3.

“Can I see him?”

The nurse bobbed back and forth before him, dithering as if their size alone did not block his view of the door entirely. They towered over him, tall and solidly built, but the tendrils that ringed their face were twitching in alarm, waving back and forth as he tried to peer past them to catch a glimpse of the Doctor.

“I’m sorry, sir,” they were saying with the practised patience of someone who had given the same explanation a thousand times to a thousand different people. “He’s still in a fragile state. We can’t allow him to be disturbed just yet.”

Disturbed. Like he was just some interloper, come to bother the Doctor. Like he had not been the one to carry him into the hospital, cradling him in his arms, Victoria rushing ahead to push open the doors and snap at the reception staff to call for help. “I want tae see him, I’ve – I’ve got tae see him.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse said, as infuriatingly patient as before. “I simply can’t allow it.”

“Please.”

“I can’t. Unless...” The nurse’s tentacles paused in their waving, twitching in place. “Are you family?”

Wordlessly, Jamie reached inside his shirt, tugging out the chain that hung around his neck to hold it out towards the nurse in triumph. The silver of the ring that hung from it glinted in the cold, white light of the hospital, almost making him blink with the brightness of it. “Is this good enough for ye?”

“O – oh.”The nurse looked as if they wanted to ask for something more, papers or tablets or whatever ridiculous system they used to document such things on this planet, but something in Jamie’s eyes must have made them decide against it. Instead they stepped aside, flicking one hand towards the door. “Go right ahead, Mister – er -” They floundered, mind visibly ticking over. “Sir.”

It was kind of them, Jamie thought, to be letting him inside. “Not sir,” he said gently. “Jamie.”

Stepping into the doorway, he hesitated. He had stormed his way through from the reception to the Doctor’s ward – but for what? To see him lying battered and bruised in a hospital bed? To sit and hold his hand until he fell asleep over him and dreamt of how small he had looked when he had collapsed, his limbs all bent at odd angles? Could he really stomach seeing him like this?

“He still needs quiet,” the nurse was saying. “And time. I’m not sure how long it will take for him to wake up.”

“Alright.” He held his hand out to grip the door handle, but did not turn it. “Can I – can I touch him?”

“Gently. No sudden movements.”

“Alright.” Scrunching his eyes shut to brace himself, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

Closing the door to lean against it, he dared to squint out at the room before him. It was not so bad as he had feared, he supposed. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the vase beside the bed held a spray of yellow flowers. There was a low bookshelf against one wall, curtains rather than shutters over the windows to the corridor outside, and the chair in the corner was comfortably upholstered. It could almost have been called homely, he supposed, were it not for the bed itself, clothed in starched white sheets and netted in by a web of softly beeping machines. No amount of homey touches could take away from the horror of that, of seeing the Doctor curled beneath the covers, frighteningly small against a mattress designed for a far larger species.

Stepping closer, Jamie reached out to bump his fingertips against the bars at the end of the bed. He pulled his hands back as soon as he felt the shock of cold metal, looking around as if alarms might start blaring at any moment, but the quiet was unbroken. The machines kept on murmuring away, burbling out the ups and downs of the charts that snaked their way across their screens. Gripping the bars more tightly, Jamie leant forwards to examine the machines, trying to make out what they might be measuring. One of them was clearly monitoring the Doctor’s heartbeats – he had seen the same lines before, on machines hooked up to himself after he had taken one too many risks. The lines on this one were doubled, one for each heart – and wasn’t it terribly lucky, that this had happened on a planet where people knew what to do with two hearts?

Sidling around the bed, he drew the chair up to perch on the edge of it. It was as comfortable as it looked, and somehow that only made him feel worse. There was something permanent about the way the room was furnished, the threat that the Doctor would be staying here a long time woven into the very fabric of it. The Doctor had snuffled a little at the sound of the chair legs scraping against the tiled floor, but he did not wake, nor did he move. It was odd, Jamie thought, to see him sleeping so peacefully. He had always been such a restless sleeper, as busy at night as he was during the day, shuffling around the bed and snoring and occasionally muttering to himself in some incomprehensible language. To see him so still was unnerving.

He lifted one corner of the sheets, just enough to reveal the Doctor’s hand, and drew it out into the open tentatively. The Doctor gave another mumble, but his fingers did not so much as twitch.

“Hello,” Jamie said. “Erm -” What did he think he was doing, talking to someone who would not hear him?

“You’re gonnae wake up soon,” he carried on awkwardly. If talking to the Doctor felt silly, then saying something so confident felt even sillier. Like he was saying it for the benefit of a small child rather than himself. “You’re gonnae get better, aye?”

A Dhia, he hoped the Doctor really could not hear him. It would be awfully embarrassing for him to wake up and remember everything.

“Ye shouldn’t have done that, ye know,” he added, sternness creeping into his voice. That was something he wished the Doctor could hear – and that he knew he would say again, one he was recovered enough to take it. “Ye can’t just go around throwin’ yourself in front of things like that. That’s my job.” He squeezed the Doctor’s hand just a little too tight, and let go hurriedly. “I don’t know what I can do for ye if I can’t protect ye. You’ve got tae let me help ye.”

There was no use replaying the moment it had happened in his mind, he told himself. No use imagining the Doctor shoving him out of the way to take the full impact of the blast himself, the split second in which Jamie had seen him lit up with the flash of it before he crumpled to the ground. The acrid energy-weapon tang that had drowned out his normal honey smell, seeping out of his clothes and hair and skin. But when he turned the Doctor’s hand over, he found his palm bandaged, the skin around its edges still reddened from where he had thrown his arms up to shield himself. Well, he had no choice but to think about it now.

To wish that their places had been reversed.

Was that selfish of him? To wish that he was the one unconscious in a hospital bed, and the Doctor the one left to wait for him?

Maybe it wasn’t. The Doctor would surely be much more rational about the whole thing than he was. Or so he wished he could believe.

“Victoria’s been worried sick,” he carried on. “She pretends she’s not, but she is. They’re lucky she’s good at puttin’ a brave face on things, else they’d be out of tissues by now.”

They should be going home, she had told him. They should have been back at the TARDIS by now, setting off on some other adventure. Not stuck here, waiting for the Doctor to come round again. But the Doctor had made a slight miscalculation, and Jamie had been paying just a fraction less attention than he should have been, and now they all had to live with it. Victoria had not said that last part out loud, and he knew she never would – but surely it was there at the back of her mind.

“Ye know what the worst thing is,” he said flatly. “That they never even caught Wilkins. He’s gone, sure, we chased him off – but he’ll just go on tae the next place through that portal he made, an’ he closed it behind him so we couldnae see where he went. Nothin’ we did will have made any difference. It was all for nothin’, ye endin’ up like this.”

Maybe he should have thrown his knife, he thought. Or better yet, taken some sort of gun of his own, before they had left the city. If he had just thought a little more about it, then maybe he might have struck first. Wounded Wilkins before he could fire back. The Doctor would have disapproved, of course – but then, he would never have known what might have happened. Better to have him a little offended than lying in a hospital bed.

But it was not just the Doctor’s injuries on his conscience, he thought with a pang. The Doctor might have gotten the timing wrong, but it had been his own slowness that had allowed Wilkins to escape. He had run to the Doctor’s side as he collapsed, and only looked up again just as the hateful little man was vanishing through his portal, and all the evidence of his wrongdoing with him. They could have brought him back to the city, put him on trial for his experiments, called on someone to come and take care of him. As it was, he had only moved on to do the same thing somewhere else. All the destruction he could dream up next time – that was all Jamie’s fault, too.

He wondered if the Doctor ever felt the same way. He wondered how he bore it.

“I just want ye tae know -” Drawing in an unsteady breath, he scrubbed his hand over his face. His eyes were blurring with tears, and he rubbed at them until they stung. “I just wanted tae tell ye that I love ye. A lot, ye know? Don’t forget that.” He squeezed the Doctor’s hand one last time, then shoved the chair backwards to stand up. “I’ll be back. I”ll come an’ see ye tonight, aye? An’ tomorrow. Maybe I’ll bring Victoria, if she wants tae come.”

Opening the door, he threw another glance up at the machines. This ought to be the moment when the Doctor revealed that he had been awake all along, he thought. They would have a teary reunion, and Victoria would arrive, and the three of them would bundle together, and he would be able to breathe again. But the graphs were as even as ever, and the Doctor still slept soundly. He had rolled over a little, drawing his hand back into the safety of the covers, looking quite unwilling to open his eyes.

Well, then. No use waiting around and dwelling on it in here.

Jamie stepped through the door and closed it behind him with a click.

[the-kings-of-games]

GX Month 2020

SUper late and I’m too lazy to do anything (as always), but this seems like fun to think about. So let’s go!

Day 1 (August 31): “Game on!” (It’s Judai/Jaden Yuki’s birthday today! Let’s celebrate!): 

Jaden is a great protagonist. I love dumb but OP main characters, especially when they got lucky-go attitudes. 

Day 2 (September 1): “Red, Yellow, Blue!” (Ah, the tier system at Duel Academy. Which dorm is your favorite?): 

I’m attached to Slifer Red, lol. They got a cat for mascot, what more do I need? Also, they serve tempura for lunch.

Day 3 (September 2): “Rule the School” (These kids might be saving the world, but they’re still students with homework to do and exams to pass. Celebrate the school life today!):

Don’t know what to put here, but I was a terrible student because I didn’t study or do things in a timely manner. Do better than me, kids. 

Day 4 (September 3): “Sometimes I Can’t Believe We’re Related” (10Join! Today is all about the iconic brother-sister pair, Fubuki Tenjoin/Atticus Rhodes and Asuka Tenjoin/Alexis Rhodes!):

I love this sibling pair! ^^ Alexis is really cool, and Atticus is so far out of the left field. I really thought Atticus was going to be cool like his sister, or edgy like Zane, but nah, this guy is, like, I just want to support my sister and play this ukulele. They make such a contrasting pair, so it adds to the humor.

Day 5 (September 4): “Pass The Salt” (No story is perfect. So what is something you wish you could have seen in the story of GX?)

I can’t think of anything. 

Day 6 (September 5): “Going Down With The Ships!” (You know what I’m talking about. We all have an armada parked in the bay, but there’s that one ship, that one ship, that you would die for. Today is all about OTPs and OT3s!)

I really like Rivalshipping. I don’t really have that many ships for GX. 5D’s and Zexal are more of my jam. 

Day 7 (September 6): “Bring the THUNDER” (Ichi! Juu! Hyaku! Sen! Chazz it up! Today the world does in fact revolve around Jun Manjoume/Chazz Princeton.)

HANDS DOWN, one of my two top choices for favorite rival. (Jack’s the other.) My favorite things about Chazz are his name, his energy, and that fact that he’s a baby brother. He’s so cute! ^^ I just want to make fun of him.

Day 8 (September 7): “The Power of Friendship!” (Favorite dynamic duo, two characters you think would have been friends if only they met, how friendship saves the day, or maybe a friendship fail. It’s up to you!):

Chazz and Pharoah, lol. I need Chazz to hold that cat and pet it. Why didn’t he? :’(

Day 9 (September 8): “Born to be Bad” (Inherently evil, brainwashed, misguided, or misunderstood. GX boots a colorful cast of villainy. Who’s your favorite bad guy?):

I haven’t finished season 4 yet, but Nightshroud. 

Day 10 (September 9): Free Day/Introductions (Tell us about yourself and your GX experience! Your favorites, why you like it, how you got into it. Or leave the day open to do whatever you want!):

I’m known as kappa. I got Hulu, and Hulu has almost all the YGO series excluding VRAINS and SEVENS which is fine because I also have Crunchyroll and the internet, lol; so, I watched all the YGO series simultaneously, skipping back and forth between series. I did not watch any of them in order. GX was number 5 or 6, but it’s the one series I’m putting off. 

Day 11 (September 10): “Cyber Legacy” (No Yu-Gi-Oh! show is complete without a pair of brothers. Today’s stars are Sho Marufuji/Syrus Truesdale and Ryo Marufuji/Zane Truesdale!):

I love these guys! It was great to see them grow and become their own people. ^^ They had, I think, the most realistic relationship.

Day 12 (September 11): “But What If We Had Bikes?” (That’s right! It’s time for the GX crew to rev it up on their very own D-Wheels/Duel Runners!):

I CANNOT DRAW. SORRY LMAO

Day 13 (September 12): “And You Are…?” (Got a favorite OC? Or one you’ve been hiding in the closet? Introduce them to the world today!):

I only have a Rivalshipping OC baby. Her name is Mira Princeton, and she has Jaden’s brown hair and Chazz’s dark eyes (with a bit of a golden glow). Since both her parents can see spirits, it’d make sense that she can too, lol. Her companion is Yata-Garasu, a rare card that her mama won at a tournament. She likes pink and flowers. She is very close to Aster and calls him Uncle Aster. She’s four, and most of her life, she knows her dad as the “Slifer slacker but a really good duelist.” 

I love her. :)

Day 14 (September 13): “The Perfect Formula” (He duels with the power math and science! Today, show the world that you still remember Daichi/Bastion Misawa!)

Bastion is a funny character. “Everything is science. I’m going to disappear for several months. Don’t forget to forget me,” I think. 

Day 15 (September 14): “Insert pun here” (It’s meme day! Recreate your favorites! Make some shitposts! Be the troll you’ve always wanted to be!):

Bastion: SIr, I’m afraid your DNA is backwards.

Jaden: AND?

Day 16 (September 15): “Creation and Destruction” (The Gentle Darkness and the Light of Destruction. The eternal struggle. And also the Darkness that tried to drown the world. Huh. Feels a little unbalanced.):

It’s pretty cool to have darkness and light reverse, and then watch as darkness conflict with itself, lmao. The Light of Destruction would be a chaotic good, and the Gentle Darkness as chaotic neutral. (Don't quote me on that, I don’t do personality quizzes.) 

Day 17 (September 16): “Putting the D in Destiny” (Pro duelist by day and crime fighting vigilante by night. Today is Edo/Aster Phoenix’s day!):

He’s great. I like him. He’s the precursor to Declan Akaba’s D/D/D archetype. Maybe not. Can you believe that he actually said “Shmaden Shmuki on national TV???? LMAO

Day 18 (September 17): “In Another Life” (It’s AU day!):

Currently trying to write a fantasy-ish AU in which Jun marries the Supreme King. Trust me, I have no idea what I’m doing.

Day 19 (September 18): “I Was Here Too!” (GX has a vast array of unique characters, some of which we only saw once. Pick a “one shot” character and show them off!):

I really like Princess Rose. She was pretty, and her spirit monsters care for her. I appreciate that. 

Day 20 (September 19): Free Day 2/Support Fellow Creators (Show some love for your favorite creators, or leave the day free for whatever you please!):

Literally @ everyone whose work(s) and/or post(s) I’ve reblogged. Keep up the good work!

Day 21 ( September 20): “Prehistoric Predators” (The dino duelist with a fossil in his leg. Today is all about Kenzan Tyranno/Tyranno Hassleberry!):

Dino DNA is so funny; I’m sorry, Hassleberry, but I don’t like dinosaurs. At least you were cute as one. 

Day 22 (September 21): “Stop Blowing Holes In My Ship!” (Some ships are popular and some are…not. Today is all about rare pairs and crack ships! Give those underdogs some love!):

Tanya/Bastion is kind of cute. And I guess Chazz/Atticus too. ^^ 

Day 23 (September 22): “And For Today’s Lesson…” (The teachers at Duel Academy have their work cut out for them, but they still take care of their students. Show the DA staff some love today!):

Fonda Fontaine!

Day 24 (September 23): “Legend of the Seven Gems” (Resurrect the greatest light in history today with Johan/Jesse Anderson and the Crystal Beasts!):

Johan is very cute! I’m so glad they gave him a Southern accent in the dub. ^^ It makes him extra soft and lovable. I can’t believe that Johan/JIm is called Cowboyshipping, but I love that name so much.

Day 25 (September 24): “For The Glory of Academia!” (We got to see Asuka/Alexis and Edo/Aster over in Fusion Dimension, but what about the rest of the cast? Show us some Fusion counterparts today! What are these dorks up to and what part do they play in the war?):

I’m bad at rewriting canon. ^^: Sorry. 

Day 26 (September 25): “Dream Team From Overseas” (Austin O’Brien/Axel Brody, Jim “Crocodile” Cook, and Amon/Adrian Gecko. Today is all about them!)

I absolutely love Jim Cook, from him being Australian to having a crocodile as his best friend to getting burned with a mysterious object to cowboy hat. xD 

Day 27 (September 26): “Duel Monster Spirit Day!” (The world of GX is full of spirits. Do something fun to celebrate your favorite!):

Mine would be Scapeghost and Rose Garden Maiden! 

Day 28 (September 27): “Gold Eyes in The Darkness” (Today’s all about the Supreme King! Unleash the Darkness and create your content!):

I like his aesthetic. I’m into Chazz/Supreme King for sure.

Day 29 (September 28): “Don’t Forget Me!” (Have an underappreciated character you wish you’d seen more of? Give them some love today!):

Miss Dorothy! She’s wonderful, she’s friend shaped. 

Day 30 (September 29): Free Day 3 (Share anything. Anything at all. It’s free game.): 

The Chazz/Supreme King fic I’m working on: The Supreme King’s Husband (Prologue)

Day 31 (September 30): “Gotcha!”:

Is this a Pokemon reference? O_o

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Eight

List of Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

I accidentally messed up the numbering on part Seven’s link to post six, so if you missed post six (or yesterday’s part seven), the numbering up there is correct.

Wherein we get back out into the galaxy, explore, help some people, and kill some others!

So now that we have Liara, it’s time to really dig into the galaxy.  We have a few people we talked to on the CItadel who need help, and maybe we’ll stumble into a few more things along the way.

First of all, let’s check out the galaxy map...

Hey wait a sec, what’s this?

Petra Nebula!?  Oh hey, another new addition by the ME1 Recalibrated mod.

Gorgeous map, only one system available.

Heeeey we recognize this place, we’ll get to go there in.... two games!

Can’t land there (or anywhere in the system) but it’s cool that it exists! There are a couple of other neat little things in the system I didn’t screenshot so that you can have a cool new experience yourself if you decide to use the mod on your next playthrough.

What I really miss from ME3, by the way, is the % markers which note when you’ve fully explored a system or if there’s more stuff to find there.

Anyway, my PLAN had been to take a screenshot of each planet or spacecraft before I entered it to help orient the playthrough better, and then the non-screenshotting couple of hours happened, so we lost some of that along the way, sorry.  

Still, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into.

I love this planet.  The lava juuuuust below the surface, peeking out.  Just some of the coolest terrain in the game.

What a great view, let’s get a little clo--

OOPS.

I meant to do that.

Wide open spaces with no fears of a thresher maw living in the lava! ...I hope?

Ah, here’s our objective, a distress signal being sent from this location, let’s see if we can help...

FUCKING GETH AMBUSH.

Aw yeah, jumping over those explosives like a pro!

...most of the time.

Well this planet was a bust.  Let’s see if we can actually help someone.

Another planet, scanned a few things, not sure what we’re doing here but hey, I found a lone building!

Ah yes, a prefab which is totally different from all the prefabs we’ll enter because the creates are stacked in a different configuration.

Honestly they should have put one of these prefabs in ME3 for Old Times Sake. (The ones that actually look like homes/labs/whatever make so much more sense.)

Annnd we’re being attacked.  Not sure why, but here we go!

Awww yeah, Throw!  And Ash and Kaidan managing to be useful I think?

Except they let a guy slip by us, but luckily there’s a convenient explosive nearby.  That got ‘em.

OK back to facing forward OH FUCK A KROGAN.

Kaidan’s biotics and my shotgun, a favorite combination.  Now stay down!

Sweet, level up!

And that fight’s over, time to explore this pla...

Whew, thanks Kaidan.

This guy thought he could sneak past me.  Well me, my shotgun and my 20 shield strength sure showed him.

ME1 combat is so... messy though.  I mean, I honestly still enjoy it, but I’m in the camp that agrees combat gets better every game, Andromeda included.  Of course, I just REALLY LOVE Vanguarding in ME3... charging into a group of enemies, hitting Nova, spamming charge again praying that I’ll find a good target to charge to in time.  ME1 combat is basically all just... spam abilities from cover and hope your companions are doing something useful.  Being a Vanguard is more about style over substance in ME here.  I mean you do get some really useful abilities, but your shotgun isn’t that much use unless things get too close.

Which, you know, they do pretty often.

Anyway, remember... I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!

FUCK I hadn’t been back to the Citadel to pick up Nassana Dantius’ quest yet.  Let’s just reload the quicksave from outside and we’ll... come back and do this the right way later and see the entire quest.

I do this more often than I care to admit.

Also no screenshot for this but... I also found Wrex’s personal quest planet and recognized it only when I saw the building, since it’s in a pretty memorable location.  Still, grabbed everything else off the planet so it’ll be quick when it’s time to go back and do that quest.

Well let’s go back to poking around the galaxy.

Message coming in.  Patching it through.

Ah, yeah, hey Hackett.  What’s that?  You’ve got some dirty work you need me to do for you?  Cool, be right there.

Before the ME2 DLC Arrival came out, Hackett was one of Mass Effect’s biggest mysteries.  Who is this guy?  Why is he telling us to do things?  Does he have some secret agenda?  Why is he so sketchy?  Our Shepards seemed to trust him but WOW he sure did send us on some touchy missions.  Speculation was all over the place on what he looked like and what he was really doing.

Turns out, he’s just a pretty cool guy who wants you to take on all the secret spy missions the Alliance doesn’t want to take credit for.

I wish I’d saved it, but just a week or two ago I saw a pretty great post circulating about Hackett.  He IS the guy that’s going to make sure a job gets done, even if he’s not going to do it himself.  He’s the back-room Admiral with the squeaky clean image up front.  He’s the Gus Fring of the Alliance.

Also getting Lance Riddick to voice him was great.  Just a real authoritative, steady guy who you actually want to trust.  

And it turns out he looks basically exactly like most people thought, but maybe with a few more scars. (I mean, he really looks a lot like Lance Riddick, tbh)  But we don’t know that yet.  For now, let the mystery be.

Time to actually go help someone.

Ah yeah, Chairman Burns, we do negotiate with terrorists, in this case.  But they needed negotiating with.

Maxing out the Paragon-meter is worth it for moments like this.  These guys have probably suffered and it’s no surprise that no one has really listened.  Sounds like a lot about the galaxy hasn’t changed since we got out there.

This is also an excellent moment for Kaidan.

Being able to let Kaidan reason with them is fantastic.  Although he probably ultimately doesn’t make a difference mechanics wise, it’d be nice if maybe the check is easier if he’s here.  I don’t know.  But Kaidan knows, even if he’s one of the “lucky” ones who “only” gets migraines.  

One of the grossest posts I’ve seen about Kaidan are people who argue she shouldn’t be on the team because of his implants and since he has a “disability”.  Or that it’s “kinder” to sacrifice him on Virmire.  That’s some real gross ablism you’ve got there.  

Anyway, I love being able to keep this situation under control. Burns actually comes through if you do, even if those guys probably go to prison for awhile for terrorism.  Better than being dead.

Time for... another planet!

Again, didn’t take a screencap of this one but... there’s a missing survey team? I must have picked this quest up in the elevators, because normally you get it on Noveria.  Anyway,  Let’s go find them on Trebin, I’m sure they just can’t broadcast anymore or something.  It’s cool

FUCK. SHIT SHIT SHIT.  FUCK!!!

I probably could have actually used Warp or Throw or even Barrier there but... too late now!  We lived!

I was all ready to blame this on Cerberus, but creepily, there’s no explanation for who huskified them or why.   I’m still going to blame Cerberus, seems like something they’d do.

Well, time to move on.

Honestly, I can’t believe anyone who says ME1 isn’t beautiful.

And driving the Mako is FUN in places like this!

Oh there’s a camp up ahead, we’re here to find the remaining crew of a crashed ship for our new friend in the Citadel Tower.  

Again, no footage/screenshot but eventually you find where the mercenaries tracked down Willem (the brother) and killed them.  Shit.  We were too late.  I actually tear up sometimes telling Garoth that his brother died.  They held out for awhile, too, but we were too late.

It would have been nice if, say, if the very first thing we did after leaving the Citadel was to come here, we could have saved him, but I guess this quest is another way of Bioware telling us that sometimes, there’s just nothing you can do to change things.

One more quest this update, then we’re stopping back off at the Citadel next.

Presrop, one of the most well-known of the sidequest planets. (OKok, technically it’s a moon.)

One of my favorite landing sequences, just because the stars make it so... dramatic.

I mean DAMN.

Klendagon's most striking feature is, of course, the Great Rift valley that stretches across the southern hemisphere. What is most fascinating about the Rift is that it does not appear to be natural. The geological record suggests it is the result of a "glancing blow" by a mass accelerator round of unimaginable destructive power. This occurred some thirty-seven million years ago.

It took a solid three minutes of Flycam flying to get that closeup shot, btw.  I actually flew all the way in the first time I came here, and didn’t take screenshots.  Took about six minutes.  The updated texture is impressive.

Well, Hackett sent us here, let’s deal with Major Kyle.

Being nice and non-threatening gets you into places.

I’ll admit, before I came in here, I decided to cheat in enough paragon points to max out Paragon already.  For me personally, I’m trying to make sure this is an “ultimate” playthrough, a save file I can just use over and over from here on out.  I want everything to import into ME3 the first time around with all the plot flags set how I want them without messing with Gibbed’s Savegame Editor, so making sure I can convince everyone how I want them to is important.  So hey, Major Kyle, stand down.

I don’t think I’ve ever played as a Ruthless Shepard in ME1, or if I have, it’s been so long I’ve forgotten how it goes.  But he was the commanding officer at the battle of Torfan, and your CO if you’re Ruthless.  He’s also a reminder of how serious PTSD can be, and what it can do to a person.  

I also love this tidbit from the Wiki, which I didn’t know since I’d never done these particular choices before:

(In Mass Effect 2)  If Martin Burns was not saved in 2183, a news report on the Citadel will announce that Kyle is trying to form an all-biotic community as the reparations were not given to L2 biotics and they have become even more alienated from galactic society.

I really liked that if you reason with him, he doesn’t give you any trouble and turns himself in like he says.

Hey, this negotiation thing is easy when you’re the best person in the galaxy at it!!

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

On the Outside Looking In: Growing Up in the Moonies

Flore Singer Aaslid, Ph.D. (2007)

Abstract The author recounts her experiences as a child and young adult in the Unification Church (“the Moonies”). She discusses the enduring sense of not fitting in, which arose from her many years of travelling and being taken care of by people other than her parents (who were usually busy with missionary work) and stigmatized for being an “unblessed” child (not born to Moonie parents). During this prolonged conflict situation she vacillated between trying to “buy it” and rebelling. Leaving the group proved to be difficult because she discovered that she did not fit in “outside” either. Ultimately, however, she left the group permanently and began to build a new life.

____________________________________________

There is a saying that if something doesn’t kill you it will only make you stronger. A spiritual perspective might interpret this statement as meaning that most challenges in life, however unpleasant or inconvenient, are like trials laid out by some Grand Master Plan for the sole purpose of adding some muscle to one’s otherwise weak disposition. Perceived from such a perspective, being raised in an environment such as that of the Moonies is really a blessing in disguise, with a vast array of potentials and possibilities to grow and expand in every conceivable manner. In my case, I can see how the whole experience has toughened me up in many respects. Nevertheless, for me, the most enduring and overwhelming side effect of growing up as a cult kid (having been set apart from society at large and carefully protected in a dogmatic cocoon for most of my formative years) is the relentless, almost haunting, yet mostly exasperating feeling of never quite fitting in—anywhere. I have yet to discover whether this is a blessing or a curse, but it’s probably a little of both.

Like that of many of my peers also raised in “the church,” as we called the whole ordeal, my childhood was somewhat turbulent. From the age of two, I never lived more than two years at a time in any one place. By the time I was eight, I had already lived in four different countries and learned three different languages (two of which, unfortunately, I forgot as I no longer used them). The number of “caretakers” I had during those years is beyond my recollection (probably more than 20 and fewer than 50), for both of my parents were missionaries, busying themselves with the very important task of saving the world. I was a sacrifice for the sake of a greater good, my mother used to tell me. I was put into God’s Hands, and with the help of a lot of faith and a seemingly endless number of dedicated prayers, He would protect me (sort of like paying holy instalments toward some kind of sacred life insurance). This might have worked, for all I know; I was an almost abnormally healthy child, and even today the most serious illness to fall upon me has been the flu and some nasty stomach problems in India.

Still, it is as if all this moving about, learning new languages, making new friends, adapting to different environments, only to be torn away from it all and repeat the process all over again (and again, and again, ad infinitum), somehow turned me into a weird little muddled misfit. I was doomed to feel like a perpetual stranger, forever the foreigner, like some bizarre product of shoddy enculturation, sloppy socialization, or whatever one wishes to call that process through which young children experience a sense of belonging, and identify with their nearest and dearest. I wasn’t, of course, consciously aware of my predicament at such a young age. I just felt exceedingly lonely, and of course being an only child didn’t help matters. Children, as a rule, don’t like to stand out, and lord knows I did my best to fit in. I made friends easily, was unusually outgoing, learned languages and dialects in record time, joined the Girl Scouts, the swim club, the ski club, and even a glee club (chorus). I wore the right clothes and probably liked the right things, but to no avail; that lonely feeling just never left me. And all this, by the way, relates purely to my experiences with the Outside World (that is how we Moonies referred to what other people might perceive as “normal society”). Children growing up in cults, or in any kind of fundamentalist movement for that matter, always get stuck between (at least) two worlds.

Things probably would have been slightly different, although not necessarily better, had I felt some sense of belonging in the Inside World (my own personal term for the Moonies, or “the family,” as we insiders referred to ourselves). This fate was not to be mine, however, for one big reason that I can explain only by examining the Moonie Belief System (B S). This “family” came complete with a set of True Parents (Sun Myung Moon, also founder and self-proclaimed messiah, and his wife) and True Children (their 14 children). All the other members lovingly referred to each other as True Brothers and Sisters to complete the Holy Metaphor, but also, I suspect, to linguistically prevent any kind of sexual activity from occurring between these “Brothers and Sisters.” Premarital sex was regarded as an almost unforgivable mortal sin. Sex was so terrible that any children born from this impure act were blemished forever with the stain of Original Sin, passed on through generations all the way back to when Adam and Eve had premarital sex. This is “the fall” according to the Moonie bible (otherwise known as “The Principle”)—which, incidentally, was Eve’s fault because she had sex with Satan first and then felt guilty because she remembered that it was Adam she was supposed to have sex with, whereby she seduced him, but, alas, too late or too early, or both, and so women became the inferior sex and suffer childbirth and menstruation and all sorts of womanly misfortunes as a consequence of this badly timed and somewhat bungled-up sex act.

To remedy this calamity, all lowly mortals (both men and women) must pay Indemnity. Any kind of personal misfortune could be seen as one form of paying Indemnity, but most members supplemented this payment with additional suffering, just to make sure that Indemnity was indeed being paid. There was fasting (often for [7] days with absolutely no food whatsoever); getting up very early and praying hysterically for days, weeks, or months on end; as well as fundraising (practically all the members fundraised at some point or another; many did nothing but fundraise) and witnessing (getting other unsuspecting outsiders to join the happy family). The only other activity that could remove the stain of Original Sin was The Blessing. Here, several hundred (sometimes several thousand) couples, whom True Father himself picked out from pictures or in a great big gathering called “The Matching,” would all get married at the same time by True Parents, in some very big place, like a football stadium, or Madison Square Garden. 

▲ Sun Myung Moon “matching” couples in the 1980s.

Not only the Blessed Couple, but all the future children born from this holy matrimony, would then be freed of Original Sin (which explains why it was so popular; I think the Moonies are even in the Guinness Book of World Records for the biggest mass weddings in history). The offspring of these decontaminated couples were then subsequently called the Blessed Children since these lucky little cherubs were born into the world unblemished and completely free of Original Sin. In all metaphysical respects, as perfect as can be.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view), I was no such child. Born to an unwed mother before she joined the church, I was doomed to carry the burden of Original Sin. I and others like me were continually reminded of this disgraceful state of affairs by simply being given the rather unflattering designation of Unblessed Children [“Jacob children”]. 

As an Unblessed Child, I was excluded in several different ways: Ritually during Sunday morning prayers (which always took place at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m.), for example, where I was consistently prohibited from saying the Pledge of the Families (not belonging to a Blessed Family myself). Socially, during big Moonie celebrations such as God’s Day, where special seats were always reserved for Blessed Children (I was allowed to sit there on many occasions, but hardly ever without first being solemnly informed that these seats were really for Blessed Children). Then there was the obligatory trip to Korea ( [usually for 40 days, but possibly] lasting several years), which was an absolute must for most Blessed Children, but not for me (although from what I’ve heard, I think I was blessed to have missed it). And of course, as opposed to most of the Blessed Children, I was in no way exempt from the fundraising and witnessing. After all, Indemnity must be paid, and I have many (not so very fond) memories of myself standing on street corners selling flowers with my mother, usually for some worthy “Christian” cause (we hardly ever said it was for the Moonies, unless we happened to be in the mood for some rather unpleasant “persecution,” as we called the stone throwing, name calling, and other mostly verbal abuse).

Understandably, after many years of this kind of treatment, one is always in danger of feeling vaguely inadequate and prone to a slight sense of inferiority with respect to those Holier Than Thou. So, to finally make my point, even in the Inside World, amidst my own True Brothers and Sisters, I felt like an outcast, a recluse, a misfit, and once again, the freak in the group.

Psychologically speaking, there are probably several ways to deal with this type of dilemma. I have ascertained two primary methods: Either you buy the crap (pardon my French), or you don’t. Choosing the first method would have been highly destructive to my fragile psyche. No complex psychological analysis needed here; I simply state what to me seems obvious: believing that one is fundamentally inferior to most of one’s peers, for whatever reason, can dangerously stagnate one’s own personal growth and development. (However, believing that their superiority is due to a somewhat more elaborate mating ritual between their parents than that of one’s own does make it all the more absurd, even though some 50-odd years back, the majority of our God-fearing citizens adopted this view regarding unwed mothers and their “bastard” children. But this just goes to show how cruel and easily duped we humans can be.) Therefore, probably to protect myself and spare myself serious damage in the long run, somewhere in the depths of my psyche (possibly even subconsciously), I decided at a relatively early age that I was surrounded by a group of gibbering morons.

This was, perhaps, not the most sophisticated strategy, but it was effective, and it worked wonders when it came to ignoring and shutting out most of the ranting and raving that appeared to compose the greater part of my conceptual reality tunnel (the Inside World), although, admittedly, many times the two worlds collided. The resulting clash was so straining that I did my best to convince myself that this plump little Korean guy jumping about on a stage, flailing his arms energetically and barking loudly in gibberish (Korean), really was the Messiah, here to save the world and populate the planet with little Blessed Children. Fortunately, this phase was usually fleeting, and then I was back to my familiar miserable, cynical self. Ironically, I strongly believe today that had I been a Blessed Child, this strategy (deciding that I was surrounded by a group of gibbering morons) would have been very difficult to adopt. This is because Blessed Children had, for the most part, been told all their lives how very special, important, and unique they were, sort of like Holy Super Kids. The whole world depended on them, and if there is still widespread misery and suffering today, it is because they haven’t taken their role and mission seriously enough (what a burden, poor kids). Basically, my guess is that it is much harder to disregard and block out positive affirmations that build self-esteem and make one feel like a Very Important Person than it is to ignore a Belief System that ultimately makes one feel like a little piece of poop. In other words, I think I was blessed to have been unblessed (life is funny that way).

Another factor worth mentioning here is that many of the Blessed Children, in addition to being conveniently Blessed to one another, later became very economically dependent on the church, which mediated and sponsored both jobs and higher education, making it hard for a recipient to break free on any level, even if one did start developing a mind of one’s own. Put slightly differently, where subtle and sophisticated mind-controlling techniques fail, hard economic facts still tend to win out in the end (I, of course, was never worth sponsoring and have had to make do with a combination of student loans and welfare, sigh). Finally, I do believe that all that moving about during my early years, and the fact that I never really managed to “bond” successfully with my mother, made it much easier for me to break out later on. Filial piety (playing the role of obedient and devoted daughter) just didn’t seem to be in my nature; and as for my father, he drifted out when I was 12 and later helped me do the same.

I have often wondered why it was so easy for me to turn my back on my True Family, and (almost) never look back. I left to live with my father in California when I was 14 (although mentally I was long gone way before then). About two years later, I decided to re-join, and become a missionary myself in France (the Outside World was too much for me at such a vulnerable age, and I had to escape before it gobbled me up—“from the frying pan into the fire,” as they say). Being a missionary in France was probably the most serious attempt I made at “buying it” my whole life. Growing up in the Moonies was due to unfortunate circumstances way beyond my control, but becoming a missionary at the age of 16 was a desperate and conscious choice. It was, in many ways, a matter of survival, at least existentially. The loneliness and emptiness I felt in the Outside World at the age of 14 was so intense that I’m really quite surprised I emerged from it all as relatively unscathed as I did (my mother was almost certainly paying holy instalments to my sacred life insurance more than ever at that point).

The best illustration I can think of to illustrate this feeling is that of a small animal, locked up in a cage most of its life, and then suddenly set free to manage as best as it can in the jungle. Or, as another cult kid I read about in a Norwegian newspaper described it, being raised in a sect is like growing up in a spaceship, protected and confined, and then one day leaping out into space. Compared to the chaos, the overwhelming freedom and the incredible loneliness I encountered out in the big cruel world, being an Unblessed Child in the Moonies seemed like peanuts. After all, here at least I was part of something, even if it was the lesser part of an otherwise perfect family. Orbiting the Outside World, having cut all ties linking me to the Mother Moonie Spaceship, I felt utterly and completely alone. Therefore, I quit high school and set off to become a missionary and sell flowers (more out of necessity than conviction). A stranger in yet another strange land, but, as fate would have it that was probably one of my wisest and most courageous decisions. Sunny California would have been the death of me, and even though I ended up staying in France only for a year (after which I fell in love with a young Norwegian and moved to Norway), I knew instinctively that I had to get away, no matter where, no matter how.

The Moonies (or whatever they call themselves today) are not the Ku Klux Klan, as one of my childhood friends has already pointed out in a previous article. They do have some positive values, and they do mean well (yes, I know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions). On the whole, my experiences have taught me a lot about society, human nature, and this very bizarre and sometimes unpleasant state called life. The feeling of being a misfit, a social freak, doomed to dwell forever on the outside looking in, still haunts me wherever I go. However, I do have a new “family,” I have my friends, and I have my son (and I can rest assured knowing that when it comes to child rearing, I certainly know what NOT to do). I also have my sense of humor to chase away any new devils (traumas and tragedies) that might happen to fly my way. I have noticed that fanaticism (in its many forms and guises) and humor are unhappy bedfellows; they just don’t mix very well. So for those of you who find this article somewhat offensive in any way, my sincere apologies; but when it comes down to a conflict between preserving other peoples’ Belief System and my own mental health, I tend to get a little selfish.

In many respects, I suppose that growing up the way I have has made me stronger and wiser. But I certainly didn’t choose the easy way out, and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if things might have been less problematic if I’d just stayed on the inside, content with looking out. But then, I seem to attract adversity; and besides, I was never really on the inside, just like I’ll never really be on the outside. You’ll find me floating in those fuzzy grey zones in between.

____________________________________________

This material was originally prepared for a presentation at the AFF [now known as ICSA] annual conference, June 14-15, 2002, at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, Orlando (FL) Airport.

It was published in Cultic Studies Review, 2(1), 2003, 1-8

http://www.icsahome.com/articles/on-the-outside-looking-in-growing-up-in-the-moonies

____________________________________________

Flore Singer Aaslid was born 12 October 1972 in Rosenheim, Germany. She was raised as a “non-blessed” child [a “Jacob child”] in the Unification Church and grew up in Germany, England, USA, France, and Norway, respectively.

She was about 8 when her mother was ‘blessed’ to her father at a Unification Church mass wedding at Madison Square Gardens in 1982.

Currently, she is a social anthropologist based in Trondheim, Norway, where she lives with her son.

____________________________________________

Wise Mind – A Case for the Integration of Subjective Experience with Objective Reality in the Age of Fragmentation written by Flore Singer Aaslid

Introducing ‘Ethnography and Self-Exploration’ — Sjaak van der Geest, Trudie Gerrits, Flore Singer Aaslid

Marginal groups, marginal minds Reflections on ethnographic drug research and other traumatic experiences by Flore Singer Aaslid

Flore Singer Aaslid Thesis: Facing the Dragon: Exploring a conscious phenomenology of intoxication

Flore Singer Aaslid Book: Facing the Dragon: Exploring a conscious phenomenology of intoxication  Paperback – 23 Feb 2010

Do you see it? Adam and Eve were husband and wife before the Fall, not brother and sister.

In the 1952 Divine Principle, Jesus was married.

Sun Myung Moon’s explanation of the Fall of Man is based on his Confucian ideas of lineage, and his belief in shaman sex rituals.

Hooked on the “true lineage” rhetoric

Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members

Sun Myung Moon: The Emperor of the Universe

Writings of former FFWPU members Many recount their experiences in the organization or their journeys out of it

Ashamed to be Korean

[chanceuseladynoire]

Snow Angel

I started posting my fourth work. You can read it on AO3 here.

Rating:General Audiences 

Category: F/M 

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug 

Relationship: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug 

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Alix Kubdel | Bunnyx, Tikki, Plagg 

Additional Tags: Time Shenanigans, aged-up, Fluff, Angst, Kidnapping, Searching, Getting help from unlikely places, Adrien has gone a little crazy, Adrien is in denial, lost kitty, Bunnyx _really _needs to get a lock for her burrow, Miraculous Wish, Relationship Advice, Worried Friends and Family, Season 3 Spoilers, Chat Blanc Episode Spoilers - Freeform

Summary: Where is Marinette? It is a popular question this morning and Adrien is starting to worry. The 17-year-old lycée student (and teen heart-throb supermodel) can't do anything about it, but perhaps a certain cat-themed superhero can pick up her trail.

*Warning: Season 3 Spoilers Ahead*

Chapter 1: Missing

Adrien dropped his school bag next to his usual desk, took his seat, and waited for class to start. He scrolled through his calendar on his phone. Only three photoshoots this week, and the regular piano, fencing and Chinese practices. A chemistry quiz today, history paper due on Friday. It was actually shaping up to be a pretty light week. He might be able to sneak in a few more patrols with Ladybug.

Or perhaps get Marinette to slip one of Paris’ favorite heroes a few cookies on her balcony. Either option sounded fine to him.

Speaking of Marinette, where was she? Class was going to start in two minutes. She’d been making a special effort to squeak into class five minutes before the final bell since starting their second year of lycée and no longer having the luxury of living across the street from school. She probably overslept again.

The seconds ticked by. The bell rang. The history class started. The desk next to Adrien remained empty.

He didn’t start to worry until class ended and there was still no sign of the bluenette. Adrien hoped she wasn’t ill. She had seemed fine yesterday.

He could text her and ask if she was okay, but he felt that might be overstepping. Besides, he didn’t want to disturb her if she was feeling unwell. He decided to try the next best thing to messaging Marinette directly.

[Adrien] Hey. Have you heard from Marinette this morning? She wasn’t in class.

A reply popped up almost instantly.

[Alya] I haven’t. Give me a sec.

Adrien pocketed his phone and walked down the hall to his calculous class. He set his phone on his desk and unpacked his tablet and stylus. The phone’s screen lit up a minute before the bell rang.

[Alya] She’s not answering her phone. I’ll try the bakery next.

[Adrien] Thanks. Class is about to start. I’ll check back in with you later.

Adrien pushed the budding sense of unease away as the teacher began lecturing about integrals.

With his math class over, Adrien once again packed up to move to classical world literature. They were studying Shakespeare’s sonnets. He was gleaning so much glorious material for Chat Noir to use later. It was almost better than his Sunday night ritual of scouring the internet for new cat puns and memes. Almost.

Adrien did his best not to bump into anyone on the stairs as he headed down to his next classroom with his attention focused on his phone.

He had received six new texts and a missed call in the last hour.

[Alya] I talked to Sabine. She hasn’t seen Marinette since last night.

[Alya] She assumed that she just missed her leaving this morning.

[Alya] Mari still isn’t answering her phone.

[Alya] She wasn’t in our French class last period.

[Alya] Let me know when you see her. Okay?

That uneasy feeling from earlier had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach and was growing.

He typed a quick promise to Alya that he would notify her when he saw their friend.

The missed call and sixth text were from Mme. Cheng.

Adrien rounded the last step and stopped out of the flow of traffic before opening the text. The squirming feeling in his gut was getting worse.

[Mama Cheng] Have you seen Marinette this morning? Alya just called and no one seems to have seen her since last night. Tom and I are starting to worry.

Adrien failed to notice his foot tapping out a nervous staccato against the floor tiles.

[Adrien] I haven’t seen her this morning either. I will have her call you the minute I do.

He pressed ‘send,’ hoping that his optimism in stating ‘when’ not ‘if’ he sees Marinette was not unfounded. He didn’t want to start thinking that way.

He stood there, staring at his phone, trying to decide what to do, as the halls emptied and the next period of classes began. He felt Plagg start nudging his hip from inside his book bag. It was the final push he needed.

Adrien hurriedly stopped by the school nurse and told her that he wasn’t feeling well and asked to be excused from his classes for the rest of the day.

The nurse took one look at his pale face and agreed to let the rest of his teachers know of his absence. Having a reputation for being a model student had its advantages.

Adrien walked out the front doors of the school as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. As soon as he had the freedom of the pavement outside, he ran to the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

Usually Plagg talked to Adrien from wherever he was lounging at the time, but as soon as they were hidden from view, the kwami of destruction phased through the bag and floated at eye level. His tail was flicking back and forth agitatedly. He crossed his stubby arms over his chest and narrowed his toxic green eyes at his holder.

“Well, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?” Plagg drawled exasperatedly, but Adrien could read the subtext after four years of partnership. His kwami was worried.

He finally had a name for that feeling crawling its way up from his stomach and grasping at his throat now. Fear. It was definitely fear.

“Plagg, claws out!”

----------

Five minutes later Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s balcony with a soft flump.

Nothing looked out of place, but something... wasn’t quite right. Chat couldn’t quite put his claw on it just yet.

He moved the information to the back of his mind to let his subconscious work out whatever it was. His attention turned to the skylight hatch leading to his friend’s bedroom. He eased the door open and poked his head inside.

Still nothing seemed amiss. Her bed was unmade (not uncommon with how quickly she usually needed to leave for school after hitting snooze on her alarm four times). Bits of pink fabric were strewn across her sewing desk and pinned to the dress form in the corner. Pictures of her friends were taped to the walls. It all looked perfectly normal for her room.

Chat Noir dropped onto the loft, careful to land next to the bed to keep his boots from dirtying her bedding. That’s when it hit him—the thing that was out of place.

There was an unfamiliar scent in Marinette’s room.

He sniffed around the bed. It smelled mostly of pleasant things that he associated with the young designer, like vanilla and sugar. Underneath the comforting scents was another, unfamiliar one.

Chat Noir wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It smelled... cold. It was like the sharp sting of ice on a bitterly cold day when the wind bites at your ears and nose and burns your cheeks with snowflakes like shards of glass. The scent stood out in sharp contrast to Marinette who smelled like everything warm and comforting.

He took a few minutes to sniff around the rest of her room. He didn’t pick up the foreign scent anywhere except near the bed. He did find Marinette’s phone under her bed. It was on silent and the battery was nearly dead. She had forty-six missed calls and messages. Chat was willing to bet that most of them were from Alya.

He left the phone where it was and pulled himself back up to the balcony.

The icy scent was on the edge of the hatch door. He also smelled it on one of the many potted plants surrounding Marinette’s oasis. Whoever it was must have brushed against the leaves.

The intruder had entered through the skylight from the balcony, just as Chat Noir had.

A string of events started taking shape in his mind. He didn’t like where they led.

A stranger had come to Marinette’s balcony, let themselves into her room, and taken the girl from her bed.

Someone had kidnapped Marinette.

----------

Chat Noir spent the rest of the afternoon sniffing around rooftops near the Dupain-Cheng bakery in an ever expanding radius. From time to time he dropped to ground level as well, but that didn’t seem right for some reason and he inevitably returned to the roofs.

After a few hours, he got lucky. (No one was more surprised than him since good luck was not his forte.)

Someone in a building to the south had left a pool towel hanging out to dry on a balcony railing. A brush of odor on the colorful material matched the one locked in Chat’s scent memory.

He continued searching to the south. He had never put so much effort into tracking before. Why hadn’t he thought to practice before now?

An hour later, he found his next clue. He followed the scent along a straight line of roofs at a full run on all fours. Chat’s mind presented him with two pieces of information as his claws dug into the roof tiles and his legs propelled him forward.

First, the scent was getting harder to follow as more time passed. Second, Chat knew of only three groups who took routes like this. None were great options.

He slid to a stop at the end of the roof line and stood easily on the edge. His breathing was labored and he could feel his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. Anxiety and exertion were flooding his system with adrenaline. Chat’s tail twitched behind him just as Plagg’s had before transforming that afternoon. A low growl slipped past his clenched teeth.

He’d lost the trail.

Chat needed help. He opened the map feature on his baton and searched for Ladybug’s icon. She wasn’t there. It was a long shot anyway. They usually weren’t transformed this time of day unless there was an Akuma attack. Fortunately he hadn’t had to deal with one of those today. Chat could only handle one crisis at a time.

He switched his baton to phone mode and called his partner. It went to voicemail.

“Ladybug, I’ve got a bit of a situation here. Do you remember Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I think she may be a friend of yours, but that’s not important right now.”

He did his best to keep the strain out of his voice. Ladybug didn’t want an update on his emotional state. She only wanted cold, hard facts.

“Look, I think she’s been kidnapped. No one has seen her all day. I went by her house to check if I could find anything and picked up an unfamiliar scent. I’m tracking it south through the fifth arrondissement right now. And, LB, I’m tracking it across the roofs. We might be looking at an akuma or sentimonster, though it’s been pretty quiet for one of Hawkmoth’s games. There’s a possibility it might be a—another miraculous holder.”

He paused for a moment to let that sink in.

“Anyway, call me when you get this. I’m going to keep looking. Bye.”

Chat Noir ended the call and continued his pursuit.

Frustration outweighed his anxiety hours later as the sun started to set beyond the Paris skyline. He hadn’t been able to pick up the trail again. He tracked it as far as he could, but he lost it.

He groaned as he slid down a brick wall protruding from the roof he was currently on. He sat on the plaster and released his transformation. A crackle of bright green energy washed over his body and Plagg sprang from the ring. Adrien handed him a piece of Camembert before the grumpy little cat could ask.

“How’s it going, kid?” Plagg asked, then tossed the chunk of smelly cheese in the air and swallowed it whole. Normally with him it was eat first, ask questions later.

“I lost the trail.” Adrien thunked his head against the bricks behind him. The small pain this caused was a slight comfort in the face of Adrien’s disgust with his tracking skills.

“I know, kid. But, honestly, you did great. It wasn’t an easy scent to find. I’m impressed that you were able to follow it this far.”

If Plagg was trying to comfort him and willingly handing out compliments, it really was the end of days.

Adrien appraised his old friend. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Plagg stared off to the south. Adrien was sure the little glutton had heard him, but was declining to comment.

Plagg had always seemed partial to Marinette. Adrien didn’t know why. His kwami had never met the girl, but he did seem to bring her up more than Adrien’s other friends.

“Let’s go, kid. There’s nothing more we can do tonight, and I’m sure Pantsuit is wondering where you are by now.”

Adrien pushed himself to his feet. He had no idea what he was going to tell Nathalie, but he didn’t really care right now. Maybe he would do something crazy and try telling her the truth that one of his friends was missing and he had been out all day looking for her. Telling Nathalie the truth. He scoffed. There was a concept.

“Plagg, claws out.”

[half-explored]

and she breathed her last

format: novel

status: outlining

place: second in series (hopefully the LAST)

pov: third person limited

genre: fantasy, adventure

themes/aesthetics: old, damp caves; family secrets long untold; death & destruction; people with greed running through their veins; memories long gone; found families; betrayal

first line: caspara never knew you could get sick of the ocean. But it was quickly happening to her.

characters:

‘I never quite thought I’d say this, but Tajuddin, I’ll help you’

                                                            ~

‘Ah, my little bloodthirsty and assuming sister. I assure you that what I am about to do is a lot less illegal and dangerous.’

caspara boutros: muslim, yemeni, aromantic, autistic, 12 (subject to change). she’s snarky, unforgiving, and unwilling to accept [REDACTED] as she once did. griffinclaw, wears her hair in a long braid, constantly in overalls. a genius TM. special interests include zoology, ancient creatures and old books.

                                                           ~

‘Usually rich people find a better bar. What brings you here?’ The bartender sat down, before remembering the huge task that lay before him and called a drunk Tajuddin over to the bar, inviting him to sit, which he did.

‘Well, what else right?’ Tajuddin gestured with his hand, distractedly. ‘Problems with girls, problems with the family, and of course’ he burped. ‘imminent death.’

                                                           ~

tajuddin boutros: the one who started this whole mess. having a whale of a time getting to know [REDACTED]. clumsy, lovable, and innocent (as innocent as a once-siren hunter can be at least). the protagonist of when siren blood runs, 23

                                                           ~

‘What do you think we should buy? I want to help make dinner today.’ Faarih said brightly as they searched through the eggs trying to find some good sized ones. Tajuddin had insisted on paying.

Tajuddin scoffed disbelievingly. ‘I haven’t been here for 6 years, but I highly doubt your cooking skills have improved since the last time we let you cook. No way.’

Faarih’s smile wavered, remembering the incident. ‘Ok, but I was twelve. Twelve! Mama and Papa says it told them all they needed to know about my cooking skills and that,’ she put up little quotation marks, balancing one of their two baskets on her compromised hands. ‘I should focus my skills elsewhere, which is absolute rubbish! I could… I could be a good cook!’

                                                          ~

faarih boutros: 19, soft, feminine trans girl but absolutely ready to kick your ass the second you disrespect her. hijabi muslim, friendly and bubbly, romantic, hufflepuff. she has vitiligo.

                                                          ~

Iassar still didn’t look alarmed. ‘Slow down kiddo. Are you so self-centred that you think I courted your sister because of you?’

Tajuddin was taken aback. ‘Wait… you didn’t?’

He smirked, though it was less effective because there was green blood trickling down his face, effectively ruining his outfit, Tajuddin thought, with no small amount of satisfaction. ‘I didn’t say that.’

                                                         ~

iassar almasi: if you believe everything tajuddin told you then you would hate him for a lot of stuff, including him being a self-centered prick. in truth, it’s a lot more complicated than that. slytherin. he’s 20 or 21

                                                         ~

Tajuddin had so many questions. ‘Firstly,’ he approached Lyth. ‘how did you sirens manage to hide this from us? Secondly, how come no one knows? You could make a fortune of th- ow!’ He hobbled around, his body sore from the beating he took earlier and swore at Lyth.

‘What was that for?’

‘Killer, you need to learn a few things about us sirens. Firstly, there has never been a siren who thought oh! exposing this place to humans would be a great idea! You humans are fools. You think everything special ought to be shared, or exploited.’ She took a deep breath and looked out at the city, eyes shining with something Tajuddin had yet to see. ‘There are some things, that should never, ever be shared with your kind.’ She gave him a black look. ‘You’re a prime example of why we would never share this with the public.’

                                                        ~

lyth levane: former diplomat for the Council, never had any direct connections to the sirens tajuddin murdered, but she certainly feels their loss as keenly as anyone. reluctant to involve herself with him, but as we all know, resistance is futile. 25, she/her they/them, disabled. they invented and built most of the ramps around the siren’s city (one which i have yet to name) due to them using a wheelchair. they are genderfluid, and have a strong interest in carpentry (lucky for them, eh?) and dead languages.

                                                       ~

taglist (if this interests you and you’d like to hear more, please let me know!): (from the first wip, this is the only post you’ll be tagged in if you don’t ask to be tagged for this wip) @livvywrites @woodhouse-jay @mvcreates @purpleshadows1989 @sunlight-and-starskies

thank you for reading this far! If you’re interested in the first wip, I’ll link both the page, it’s tag and it’s intro for your enjoyment :D

summary below (be wary of consequential spoilers ~ the ending of the first book is spoiled, pretty major to some)

summary:

After three weeks of travelling, Caspara, Tajuddin, Lyth, Faarih and Iassar reach the sorceress’s island. Their mission to convince her to destroy the highly unstabled stones - family heirlooms - is quite simple. Until life throws a wrench in their plans. Or really, the lack of life. The sorceress is dead.

But an intelligent Caspara knows better. The sorceress’s last dying breath still lurks on the island - the only reason the island hasn’t fallen into disrepair. Now the newly-tasked five must venture into the depths of an intricate cave system - used by the sorceress to shield herself - to find the dying breath, still capable of granting a wish. But there’s another problem. The breath must be found in under two weeks and, unbeknowst to all except Caspara and Lyth, another evil lurks on this island. One that stands to destroy all that Caspara knows and loves as her own.

[ketopian]

Putting Your Money Where Your Research Is

So my wife and I are starting a business selling all the Ketogenic Diet related things that we wish there was already a website for. We've been eating keto for a couple of years now and it has had a huge impact on our health and our lives. My wife has lost a huge amount of body fat and overcome multiple metabolic issues and I've been able to stop taking immunosuppressants for Crohn's Disease and am now completely drug free. We both have hugely increased energy levels. There are loads of great Keto and Low Carb blogs in the world, so I thought long and hard about writing yet another one, but I thought that a) it might help me to get more clarity on certain issues b) give me reason to experiment a bit more with my meals, as I've gotten a bit lazy of late and everyone loves a recipe, and c) force me to consolidate all I have learned from reading various bits of scientific literature in relation to nutrition, which is something I do a lot given my past as a scientist, engineer and science teacher. While my background isn't medicine, I have spent the last few years educating myself on biochemistry. This was originally to help my wife with various issues (many of which a plan to go into at a later date), but I quickly discovered that there was a lot more I could learn.   

I, like most scientifically minded or "sceptical" (there's a word that's been seriously corrupted by the internet) people, thought I knew all there was to know about nutrition: a calorie is a calorie, an energy deficit is all you need to lose weight, and no, you aren't fat because of your hormones. I went at least a little further than most; I understood how digestion worked and that starches ended up as glucose in the body, a message some medical professionals still seem to have trouble with. Nonetheless, it came as a shock to me when all this stuff didn't seem to work for my wife. I was seeing how little he was eating, how hungry she was getting and how difficult it was for her to shift those fat stores. Her pregnancy was a major turning point. PCOS had been mooted before but it was never confirmed until a scan ended up with the radiographer saying “Your ovaries look a little polycystic to me”. This was followed a number of weeks later by a diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes, accompanied by the standard advice – eat regular meals (six per day plus snacks) and make sure you have loads of carbohydrate at each – accompanied by the offer of medication. Well, we were both determined that that wasn’t going to happen, so I set about researching, which is what I do best (well, one of two things, but we’ll come to the other much later). The obstetricians could not believe her blood sugar readings – they were better than most non-diabetics. One of them even asked to see the glycometer, as such low readings could not be possible. How did we do it? By ignoring all the advice we were given, reducing carbohydrates to a very low level (although not keto levels at that point) and using a small number of carefully researched supplements. We didn’t mention the supplements to any medical professional; we had enough patronising advice from them, but it was following the science that allowed my wife to avoid medication and to produce a daughter who was born incredibly healthy and with a great start in life.

I don’t want to criticise the medical community too much, most of them are only trying their best, but there is a certain amount of arrogance which tends to come with being a doctor, which often is not concomitant with their intelligence or knowledge. Just as in any other field of endeavour, ability as a medical practitioner is on a bell curve. In other words, there are a few who are fantastic at their jobs, a few who are truly awful, and most are pretty much middling in ability. I’ve taught students who became doctors, and if I were ever given an appointment with them, I’d run a mile! Most doctors follow the guidelines, and it’s a lottery as to whether you get to see the occasional few who do enough research in the right areas to go beyond that. If we educate ourselves to a high enough level, we may be able to help our doctors to help themselves and then eventually to help everyone else.

So back to the story. So this whole pregnancy episode got me really intrigued. Was everything I knew actually complete bullshit? I had spent around close to 300 hours during Hayley’s pregnancy reading papers and getting familiar with the biochemistry and biology of nutrition, and countless more hours not sleeping but thinking about what I had read. It completely changed my attitude to my own knowledge. It had also deeply concerned me. How could everyone have been so wrong on this for so long? Well, it turns out that they absolutely could be, and the reasons are complex and too long for now (stay tuned for a post on this precise subject), but there was something else that intrigued me.

I have Crohn’s Disease. For those of you who don’t know, Crohn’s Disease is an autoimmune disease of the gastrointestinal tract. What this means is it causes inflammation, ulceration and pain, anywhere from the mouth to the anus. It is essentially when your own immune system decides that your gut is a foreign object and therefore needs destruction. My own Crohn’s was mainly confined to the colon, although I also got very large and painful mouth ulcers. Crohn’s is usually treated with steroids, anti-inflammatory drugs, immunosuppressants, which damp down the immune system, and a more recent sort of therapy called biologic therapy. I had been a biologic many years ago, but I was fairly lucky in that I was OK on just anti-inflammatories and immunosuppressants, however the immunosuppressants were not pleasant. I got every illness going. If I got a cold, I had it bad for two weeks, including having to spend a day or two in bed. I had got to the end of my tether; there had to be another way.

Enter ketone bodies. So if you know anything about ketogenic diets you probably know that when you restrict carbohydrates enough that your body starts to use fat to create substances called ketone bodies, the most important of which for human metabolism is a chemical called Beta-hydroxybutyrate (BHB). Well, it turns out BHB has a strong anti-inflammatory effect. “Aha,” I thought to myself,” This might be worth a go”. It was. I had tried to come off medication several times previously, under medical supervision, of course. Always, within about six weeks, I would have a serious and painful relapse. Not this time. I bit the bullet, stopped my medication (this time without telling any medical professionals) stopped the carbs and waited, fully expecting the usual relapse. It’s now been two years drug free and I have never felt better. I would go as far as to say I have no symptoms of Crohn’s. While I would hesitate to say all Crohn’s sufferers should do this, especially the way I did it, it might be worth a try if you’ve had enough of the side effects of your drugs, or if you can’t get any relief and just want an extra bit of help. With medical supervision, of course. It might also be worth a try if you have any other autoimmune disorder, such as ulcerative colitis, rheumatoid arthritis, psoriasis, lupus and maybe even multiple sclerosis. Please don’t take this as medical advice but try to educate yourself and your medical practitioners as much as possible on this subject. If you want any help in this endeavour please let me know.

Well, this has been a long and rambling story, but we’re almost up to date. Since my discoveries I have helped a number of friends and family members send their type 2 diabetes or prediabetes into remission, lose weight and become healthier, both physically and mentally. My wife is slimmer, healthier and feels generally better. I didn’t even realise I had fat to lose but the recent appearance of my abdominal muscles seems to confirm that I actually had a fair bit to get rid of. All by getting rid of refined sugar, starchy carbs and the vast majority of processed foods, and getting BHB levels up. Do I think that everyone should be doing keto? Absolutely not. Everyone’s biology is unique – some people will respond fantastically to a ketogenic diet, some people will get less than nothing from it. But for those for whom it works it is life changing. Hopefully via the website, this blog and the planned videos we will be able to help more people get what they need out of this incredibly powerful dietary intervention. 

TL;DR: For lots of people Ketogenic Diets are awesome. Welcome to Ketopian.

[sevenclowds]

Barriers Thoughts/Review

I first heard most of this album under extremely tense yet awesome circumstances, as one of the lucky recipients of a VIP place on the band's tour bus for a private listening session two months before the record's official release. 10 of us were crammed into a small area while Frank played the songs over the bus sound system. It was both exhilarating and intimidating to be listening to the songs while the band was RIGHT THERE watching and waiting for our reaction. I remember absolutely loving everything I heard, although some of that I'm sure is due to the context of it being one of the best days of my life :) There was a lengthy discussion from Frank and Evan about the order of the songs being of the utmost importance and how you MUST listen to them in order. Guys, they have put SO MUCH thought into which song should go where in terms of creating a journey for the listener, I really can't emphasize that enough. They also said that since the vinyl release is two discs, they feel like it's 2 mini albums, with Motopop being the first song on the second record. They gave us permission to start with A New Day's Coming or Motopop and that would be fine, so we can have 2 mini journeys if we want to do it that way. Thanks guys. That’s all well and good but this gal is far too addicted to shuffle to take any notice of your detailed instructions lol.

I don't think I'm alone in saying that Frank's music is sometimes an acquired taste. I don't usually love his stuff on first listen and it often takes hearing them live for them to really reach their full potential. So with that in mind, after almost a week and several plays, here are a few jumbled thoughts on the album:

A New Day’s Coming - Frank announced that this was a lullaby he sang to his kids to cheer them up when they'd had a bad day. He said he was going for the uplifting, gospel feel, which he's clearly managed to do. I honestly don't remember much of it from that first listen (my critical faculties were offline that day) but on subsequent listens I feel like this is one I'm going to probably skip more often than not. Sorry Frank. Giving you an extra point for the nice intro tho. 5/10

Young and Doomed - LOVE the intro. Then it gets a bit meh. I don't hate it. 7/10

Fever Dream - Love this. The piano intro and grungy feel are perfect. I'm hearing lots of British influences which of course is the fastest way to my heart, Mr Iero. 10/10

The Host - I need another adjective, but I love this one too. Those "Cure"-ish guitars. Sigh. 10/10

Basement Eyes - A feature of this album seems to be Frank's isolated vocals, something which he's never felt too happy about doing previously. He's becoming more confident in his voice and I'm living for it. He hooks me in from the first line. The bells in the chorus are an odd choice but whatever. Nice MCR-ish guitar action though. Definitely digging this overall. 8/10

Ode to Destruction - Again with the exposed vocals. Bless you sweetie, we've waited so long to truly hear your voice and it makes me emotional. The intro and that “go to hell” line are something special. Sounds a bit like a protest song at the start (”This is a protest song!” - Derek Zanetti) This song checks all my boxes thanks. 9/10

The Unfortunate - Okay, so this song legit makes me want to cry, and that's exactly how I felt on that first listen too. I don't know why I connect with it so much but this instantly implanted itself into my heart and isn't leaving anytime soon. Apparently I'm a sucker for a good melody with violins and who knew Frank would ever deliver that? 10/10

Moto-Pop - An absolute banger! Comes out the gate flying! Frank said the title is because it's Motorhead vs Iggy Pop, duh! 10/10

Medicine Square Garden - Frank said this is his fave song from the album and is super proud of this one. I wish I could say that I shared his enthusiasm. It's fine but very forgettable. 6/10

No Love - It's gonna take a few more listens I guess. I keep hearing the Doors’ People Are Strange in here and now I can’t unhear it. 5/10

Police Police - I kinda dig it and I suspect this will grow on me even more. I’m so thirsty for screaming at this point that this chorus feels cool and refreshing. 8/10

Great Party - Oh god, yet another exposed, emotional, heart-wrenching vocal. He loves to inflict pain. Makes me cry. I'm such a fucking emo. Ooh, raunchy guitars. Loving that. 8/10

Six Feet Down Under - Of course, this one's about the accident so it's going to be a difficult listen. The spoken part at the beginning is very nice because we all love to hear him talk, right? Personally I wouldn't mind if he released an entire spoken record. Could listen to him talk forever. This song's got a kinda spooky feel that would go really well on a movie soundtrack. Not my fave but perfectly fine. 7/10

24k Lush - Is this a lost Pencey Prep track? Dude, resist the urge to slip into the Pencey nasally twang, please! You and your singing coach have worked far too hard for that. Oh wait, the chorus is better. Is it supposed to be this slow?This is definitely the wave-your-cellphone-flashlight track on the album. Too slow to do anything productive to. I literally fell asleep to this the other day.  6/10

Overall, more singing and less screaming than we’re used to. More easy listening tracks than before, but I don’t mind that because it’s the kind of thing I used to listen to before Frank invented Good Music and it fills me with nostalgia. I like the variety and the musical growth exhibited here. Not sure how they’ll go down live, but if they replace BFF with literally any of these songs then it’ll be an improvement. (Not a BFF fan, and it’s time to retire it from the setlist, sorry Lily.)

[luckyspike]

Adventures in America, Ch. 9 - Jackson County, Missouri

In which we learn about Rachael and Noel

Adam and Lucky bond over mutual interests that aren’t weather

And Aziraphale and Crowley share a soft moment at the edge of a corn field

Read the previous chapters here (not on AO3 yet!): ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8

or just check out my fanfiction tag

-

The next day brought a trip to the great state of Missouri, and more tornadoes. Bigger, this time, longer-lived. Adam and Lucky watched with great enthusiasm as the powerlines flashed when the tornado tore through them, and then with dread as they watched the biggest tornado of the day lift a barn entirely up off the ground and hurl it, in pieces, hundreds of yards to either side. When the danger had passed, Rachael drove the truck toward the property, the students taking in the destruction as they drove past the bits of barn on the way up the farm road. Noel and Rachael led the way to the farmhouse, where they knocked on the door and checked on the homeowner and were assured that it was just hay in the barn, thanks for checking but we’re fine, appreciate the stop. 

“It should be a compulsory part of storm chasing,” Noel told the boys solemnly as they piled back into the truck. “Lots of chasers do it, and that’s great, but I’ve seen vans and trucks blow past a trashed building just to keep following the storm.” He shook his head. “No excuse for that, not really.”

There wasn’t as much lightning with that system, so Rachael didn’t bother throwing the probes out. After they checked on the farm house, they drove after the storm for a little while longer, but it fell apart near the capitol, and they called it a night. Noel was driving by then, and when the group decided a diner sounded just perfect for a quick bite before bed, he somehow managed to navigate to a greasy spoon on the side of the road that promised some of the best burgers in the midwest. Adam wasn’t typically a fan of burgers, but when faced with a claim like that, he felt it was fairly mandatory to at least give them a try.

They chatted idly about the storms of the day while the waited, Adam nursing a Pepsi and Lucky working on a black-and-white milkshake. “So what are we thinking about tomorrow?” Noel asked, over the rim of his coffee cup.

Rachael had the laptop out, and she didn’t look particularly happy. “Not … not looking good. Not for the next few days, as much as I can estimate.” She sighed. “I can look again in the morning, for sure, but if there’s anything, it’s going to be little, and it’ll be all the way up in South Dakota, probably.”

Noel winced. “Worth the drive?”

“Well … I mean, I’ll check tomorrow, but if you want my money on it … no. Sorry. There’s a few little system set-ups in the works, but nothing I can forsee producing anything worthwhile. Probably a bust day.”

Lucky and Adam exchanged a look. “So what do we do on bust days?” Adam asked, over the slurping of the milkshake. Although this was supposed to be an educational trip, he was sort of desperately hoping the answer wasn’t going to be studying. Certainly, if he was in America, there would be something to do besides sit around and study.

“Well, Noel has some textbooks in the truck that you two can share, and -” Rachael caught their expressions and stopped to laugh. “Nah, just kidding. I mean, you can if you want to, but doesn’t sound very fun, does it?” They shook their heads slowly. “Noel and I have a lot of photos and video to edit, so we’re gonna be pretty tied up with that most of the day, but since we won’t be traveling anywhere, might make sense for us to head back to Kansas City tonight and stay there, and you guys can explore around tomorrow if you want. There’s museums and stuff there, and it’s not even a two-hour drive, so not too bad to head to tonight.”

Lucky nodded. “Kansas City’s good with me. I’ve never been there.”

“I have once,” Adam said, as the waitress set his food down in front of him. Regardless of the quality of the burger, it was certainly one of the biggest burgers he’d ever seen. Next to him, Lucky made a confused noise that reminded him, a little, of Crowley, and made something that felt a little like homesickness twist in his gut, although that might have just been hunger at the sight of the burger and fries. “Nah, just kidding.” He picked up a fry and smirked at the other boy. “I’m game though.”

“I was so confused for a minute.” The waitress set down Lucky’s meal: an enormous plate of fried chicken. “Oh man, oh yes.”

“You really gonna eat all that?”

“Or die trying.”

Noel sighed wistfully. “I wish I could still eat like that without needing a handful of antacids afterwards.” He’d ordered a BLT for himself, and Rachael had chosen a tuna melt.

“You can have a piece if you want?” Lucky pushed the drumstick close to Noel, who shook his head. “Sure?”

“Enjoy it for me. Much as I’d like it, I’d prefer to sleep tonight.”

They ate in silence for a while. Adam considered his burger. It was certainly good, but was it one of the best? He chewed each bite thoughtfully, and tried to balance the juiciness of the meat with the sharpness of the cheese and the varied tastes - sweet, acid, umami - of the condiments. About a quarter of the way through, he settled on the conclusion that it maybe wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it certainly was in the top five. He set it down to take a photo of it for the group, which he would include with the tornado pictures when he sent them later.

“You guys still have to show me your pictures,” Rachael said, the sight of Adam’s phone jogging her memory. “Lucky, you took a million yesterday and today - I heard your camera. Any favorites?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed his mouthful of chicken. “I’ll show you when I’m not greasy.”

“Deal.” She cocked her head, a loose lock of dark hair falling across her nose. She blew it out of the way. “How about you, Adam?”

He thought about all the photos and videos he’d taken, and considered. “I think some are pretty good,” he concluded. “My friends back home loved some of the ones from yesterday, but I think that was more because of the tornado and not as much the quality of the photography. I’ll show you when I’m done.”

“That’s fair.” She nudged Noel. “I know you have some great pictures, I heard your camera going off all day like it was going out of style.”

Noel replied, and Adam ate quietly as they bantered back and forth. He grinned a little too, around bites of burger, because for two research partners, Noel and Rachael were really very funny together. He wondered if they were more than research partners, but neither had ever said, and while he wouldn’t have thought twice about asking when he was eleven, at eighteen he liked to think he had picked up enough social graces through the years to know better than to come out with a question like that*. Besides, neither wore a ring, and neither had made any kind of overt romantic gesture toward the other, which led Adam to believe that if they were more than research partners, they probably didn’t like to discuss it with customers. 

[*And if anything, Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship had taught him that an obvious friendship and incredible chemistry didn’t always infer a relationship that any involved parties would be willing to talk about for any length of time without blushing, or turning into a gigantic serpent and escaping through a window. Although Adam also knew the latter was significantly less likely within the general population.]

“So where are you guys from?” Lucky asked, and Adam startled out of his reverie. “I mean, I read your bios online, but like - Noel, you’re from around this part of the country, aren’t you?”

“Not quite - I’m from Montana.” Noel’s expression changed when he mentioned that state, settled into something calm and peaceful. “Big Sky country. Not too many tornadoes up that way, though, but the winter storms can be something up in the mountains. That’s home base for me, when it’s not chasing season.”

“So you like snow and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah! Cross-country skiing, trapping, fishing.” He laughed. “Growing up out there, just me and my mom, it was a little wild. She’s kind of a frontier-woman type, so we grew or hunted a lot of our own food.” He shrugged. “Not that I don’t love it, obviously, nothing better than being out in nature if you ask me, but I do like being able to run to the store when I’m out of peanut butter. College domesticated me, I guess.”

“Education’ll do that,” Rachael agreed, laughing. “One minute you’re Grizzly Adams, the next you’re eating Top Ramen and yelling at the weather channel in an air-conditioned dorm because it’s kind of hot outside.”

Noel acted affronted at that. “My dorm didn’t have air conditioning, excuse you.”

“Oh, so sorry, my mistake.” Lucky and Adam were laughing, which Adam rather suspected was the intended outcome of the little show the two scientists were putting on. “Was it actually a constructed building or did you fashion your own dorm out of hewn logs?”

Noel shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me build a log cabin on campus, can you believe?” He nodded her way. “Anyway, that’s me, what about you? Where you from? The public wants to know.”

“Florida.” Rachael sighed. “Sorry to say, I am Florida Woman.” Lucky and Adam laughed again. “Fighting alligators, selling fake Superbowl tickets, finding manatees in the swimming pool … Yes, all my doing.”

Lucky looked somewhat worried, and Adam paused. “Wait, really?”

“No.” She scoffed. “Well, okay, one time a manatee did get into our pool, but that was one time. During a hurricane.” She waved a hand. “Storm surge, you know how it is. Anyway, I did not grow up on the wild plains of America - I grew up like a normal American kid in a kind-of-nice trailer park on the Gulf coast, and was already completely civilized by the time I arrived at college.”

Adam nodded. “Did you guys meet in college, or … ?” he trailed off, letting the question hang. Rachael’s mouth dropped open.

“Adam, how old do you think I am?”

Adam winced. “Sorry, I just -” but she was laughing anyway, and he relaxed and broke into a grin. “Sorry.”

“Kidding, kidding. No, we didn’t meet in college. Well,” she amended, “I was in college. He was working for OSU at the time, I think?” Noel nodded in confirmation. “Anyway, I was working with OSU’s lightning research team and he was helping with the mesonet, so that’s where we met. Then a few years later, when I was looking to do more lightning research for my PhD, he had started storm chasing, and he actually hired me on.” She shrugged. “Free research opportunities for me, and another driver for him.”

“Plus I can pay her in Dunkin coffee, which is a lot less than what the other candidates I interviewed wanted,” he joked. She made a face at him. “Alright, and money, yes. Even benefits, eventually.”

Rachael pushed her plate away, the tuna melt long gone and the fries all but eaten. She rested her face in her hands. “Yeah, that was a bigger adventure than storm chasing was that year, I think. God, getting him to do literally any amount of official paperwork is actually painful.”

“Which is why I gave her a raise and expanded her duties to include the business operations.” He snorted. “Worked out great for me - I just keep the truck and the equipment running, and don’t get us killed, she finds the storms and does taxes.”

Lucky frowned then, and Adam could almost hear what the other boy was thinking. He watched Lucky chew a french fry thoughtfully, swallow, and then open his mouth. Rachael, grinning like a shark, headed him off before he could get a word out. “If you’re about to ask if we are anything more than business partners, the answer is no. Everyone thinks so, though.” She sighed. “Alas, I’m married to a lovely woman who holds down the fort in Florida, and Noel here is married to Montana, I think.”

“Yeah, okay.” He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“And you both just really like weather?” Adam asked, also choosing to push his plate away, although the handful of fries left were practically calling to him. “S’how you got into storm chasing?”

“I mean, I grew up in lightning country, so I guess it just carried on from there. I always liked it, wanted to know how it worked.” Rachael shrugged. “You?”

“I like road trips and tornadoes,” Noel answered, simply. “I went to college with a plan to get a business degree or something, but I actually went chasing for the first time after my freshman year, kind of fell into it, and switched my major to geology after that.”

Adam sat back. “Wicked.”

The waitress came back with the bill, and they all threw down a little cash, before wandering back out to the truck. Behind the storm, the sky was clear and dark, a few stars winking over the light pollution. Noel looked up as they crossed the parking lot and sighed. “You know that’s the thing about Montana. It really does have a sky you don’t get anywhere else. Figuratively speaking.”

“My Dad took me out to Colorado once,” Lucky said, conversationally. “We were out at some base in the middle of nowhere. The stars were insane - you could see the milky way and everything. Back home, there’s so much light pollution you’re lucky if you see enough stars to count on two hands.” He sighed, wistful. “Sometimes I think I might move out this way after school. I’m sick of DC, anyway.”

“Can’t imagine it’s a quiet place to live,” Rachael said sympathetically. “And if you’re looking to study meteorology it’s nice to have it closer to your backyard, so to speak. ‘Course, if you stay in Washington, maybe you could lobby against climate change.” Lucky made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and stuck out his tongue. “Or not. Just a thought.”

“No way. I’m over it. The whole DC rat-race.” He waved his arms, and then hauled the door to the back seat of the truck open. “Forget it.” Once in the truck, he looked across the back seat to Adam, who was fiddling with his seatbelt in the dark. “What about you, Adam? You think you wanna stay in England?”

“Oh, yeah,” Adam replied, without ever even having to think about it. He had, after all, made up his mind about that ages ago. “I like to travel and everything, though, so it’d be cool to find some job where you get to travel a bit. But yeah, Tadfield’ll always be home for sure.”

“That’s cool.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, wiping the last remnants of chicken grease off on his shorts. “Is it a big place?”

Adam shook his head. “Oh, no. Few hundred people at the outside. But it’s close to Oxford, and not all that far from London, so it’s kind of the best of both worlds, I guess.” He looked out of the window, and tried to ignore the feeling of homesickness then - definitely not hunger anymore, no way it could be after that burger.

There was quiet for a minute, and then, gently, Rachael said, “Have you ever been away from home this long before?”

“No,” he answered, automatically, and then he flinched, glad for the darkness and the fact that his face was turned away from Lucky. He wasn’t ashamed that he hadn’t traveled for six weeks before, not at all, but he didn’t want the other guy to think he was some homesick little kid. “No,” he decided, going on as if he was bored with the subject, “but I’ve gone away for a couple weeks before, on holiday.”

“Six weeks is a long time,” Rachael answered, tone neutral. “I guess if we’re not going to be chasing tomorrow you’ll have time to call England at a reasonable hour, though, so there’s something, right?” She cracked the laptop open and smiled in the soft glow of the screen. “Silver lining in every cloud, right?”

“You see clouds?” Lucky leaned around the seat a little to get a better look.

“Not a one.”

-

When they arrived in Kansas City, the sun had long-since set, and the lights of the city illuminated the sky with a soft glow. They found a hotel on the outskirts of the city, cheap and clean, and parted ways to crash for the evening. Adam was looking forward to a quick shower and the soft embrace of a hotel mattress, but as he started to unpack for the night it appeared Lucky had other plans.

“So what do you think we should do tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh. I dunno. What do you want to do?”

Lucky thought it over. “Dunno. We could just wander around the city, I guess. Oh, there’s an amusement park. You like rollercoasters?”

“They’re cool.” Adam shrugged. “Any museums or anything? Or like, barbecue?”

“Oh, a barbecue tour. Might be cool.” He tapped at his phone for a while, and scratched his beard thoughtfully. “What about this haunted building walking tour?”

“Oh yeah? Sounds awesome, actually. I’d be up for it.”

Lucky put his head to the side. “Yeah, I guess the Mormons were big around here for awhile? Oh, man, if we had a car we could take a day trip to the Garden of Eden, apparently.”

That drew a laugh out of Adam. “The Garden of Eden?” he asked, incredulous. “In driving distance? What is it, like a religious amusement park or something?”

“No, no, some people believe that the Garden of Eden was here in Missouri.” He giggled. “I always heard Eden was in the middle east or whatever. Like Mesopotamia area. Guess it could have been in Missouri though. Why not? No one really knows.”

Adam laughed. “I dunno, maybe someone does.”

“What, you know some immortals?” Lucky grinned. “Or what, wizards? Is Hogwarts real? I mean, I did move away when I was eleven, I could have missed my Hogwarts letter.”

“Never been to Hogwarts, nah. But you never know.” He shrugged. “All kinds of scholars figure it’s in the middle east. Maybe one of ‘em has an inside line, you know?”

“To who? God?”

Adam smirked. “You never know. Anyway, I’m gonna grab a shower. I’m in for the ghost tour thing tomorrow, though - sounds awesome.”

“You think they’re real?” The question stopped Adam halfway to the bathroom. “Ghosts, that is.”

Adam considered it. He could be honest**, of course, but then would Lucky think he was weird? But then the other boy had been the one to bring up the ghosts up in the first place. He chewed it over for a second, and then shrugged again. “Yeah.”

[** Not completely honest. There were things that he would always leave out. Being the actual Antichrist, for one.]

“Same.” He frowned. “I mean, I’ve never seen one, but there’s so many people that believe they exist, and that they’ve seen them, there has to be something to it, right?”

“Well …” Adam chewed his lip, and then, after a second, smiled. “Alright, maybe, yeah, but to play devil’s advocate for a minute, what if it’s not ghosts at all, but a totally natural phenomenon? Infrasound, or something?”

Lucky cocked his head. “Huh? What’s that?”

Adam looked to the shower, and then tossed his pajamas into the bathroom, haphazard on the tile floor, before he turned back around and headed to sit on his bed, legs crossed and leaned back, across from Lucky. He raised an eyebrow. “Infrasound. Supposedly can make people see and hear and thing all kinds of stuff. Hallucinations and everything.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Lucky tossed his phone aside and fixed Adam with his full attention. “It can make people see ghosts?”

Adam grinned, wide and wicked. “You ever heard of the incident at Dyatlov Pass?”

“No. Is it weird?” Adam nodded. “Cool?” Another nod. “Mysterious?” A very affirmative nod. “Dude, tell me everything.”

Adam did. The pajamas sat, forgotten, on the bathroom floor, until the early hours of the morning, while the boys chattered on.

-

“Independence, Missouri.” The 4-Runner’s brakes didn’t dare squeak as it pulled to a stop. The engine hushed and shut off, and Crowley and Aziraphale sat for a long minute, staring out of the dark windshield to a field lit only by the car’s headlights. They didn’t need them, so Crowley shut them off too. “City of Zion,” Aziraphale observed, dryly. “Site of the Garden of Eden, they say.”

“I don’t remember all the corn,” Crowley said. Aziraphale didn’t respond, instead opening his door and stepping out of the car, into the humid night air. Above, the stars that managed to shine in spite of the light pollution glimmered weakly through the gaps in the clouds. 

Aziraphale surveyed the field below them, and when he spoke again, it was in a language so long-dead that Crowley had to scramble to figure out what he was saying, at first. But it surprised him, eventually, how easily it came back, how it rolled off his tongue when he replied, like it had never died, never been shattered to the four corners when the Tower fell.

“It’s funny, how they think, don’t you think?” The angel chuckled a little. “Wonder what our lives would have been like if it had really been here, don’t you?”

Crowley was silent for a second, and then Aziraphale looked over, surprised, as a skinny elbow dug into his ribs. “Maybe I’d have been a corn snake.”

“Crowley,” he admonished, while the demon burst out into laughter. “You’re speaking a dead language that’s not been heard in thousands of years, and you make a pun? Have some respect.”

“I never will.” He ran his hands through his hair, still snickering. “If the Garden was actually in Missouri …” He sighed. “Well, for one, we’d have different accents.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He left the demon to his own devices for a minute, giggling and making terrible puns in a tongue long-forgotten, and instead looked over the cornfield, flat and stretched out across the plains. On the other side, he could just hear the sound of running water.

“Oy, angel.” Startled, Azirpahale looked to Crowley, wide-eyed. The other was watching him, and because his sunglasses were perched on his head, sending Crowley’s mess of red hair in all sorts of directions, Aziraphale could see his eyes properly. He looked amused, most of all, but somewhere in there he was watching Aziraphale carefully. Thoughtful. “What’re you thinking about?”

“The Garden. The real Garden.” He looked around, the creatures of the night crying and squeaking and chirping all around. “Do you think, Crowley, that if it had been here - really, in real life - things would have gone the same?”

Crowley puffed out a breath, thoughtful. “Deep, angel. S’a big question. You’re giving everything a whole new beginning, for a start. It’s all so big, an’ ineffable, hard to know, isn’t it?”

“The ineffable plan might have stayed the same.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “It … would be different though, wouldn’t it? It’d have to be. The Garden is in a whole different place.”

“Not necessarily. What happened in the Garden probably didn’t happen just because the Garden was where it was. It happened because of the plan -”

“Oh, sod the plan,” Crowley said with a disgusted noise. “It happened because Eve wanted to know what else was out there, and Adam agreed with her. And She made it easy for them to find out, in a way.” He pointed upwards, to where the moon was trying to peek through the wispy layer of clouds left behind from the day’s storms. “Could have always put it up there.” He snorted. “She never had a plan, she just set the pieces out and let them fall where they did.”

Aziraphale scowled in the way he always did when his disagreed, and disapproved, but he didn’t say anything about it. It was an argument they had had time and time again - Aziraphale arguing that the plan is ineffable and therefore extant but not anything either he or Crowley would ever be able to understand, and Crowley arguing that there was no plan to begin with, and She was ad-libbing and rolling with the hits as they came - and he didn’t feel like having it tonight. Instead, he re-set his expression to a more neutral, thoughtful one, and slid his hand into Crowley’s. The demon, wordlessly, squeezed it. “What about us?”

Crowley looked surprised. “What about us?” He shifted nervously onto his heels, and then laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s, the better to keep his balance.

“Would we have turned out the same, do you think?”

“I …” Crowley trailed off. He thought. Aziraphale let him, and stood beside him in companionable silence, trying to corral his own ideas about that question into something he might be able to elucidate. “Depends,” Crowley decided, eventually. “I’d have still done the bit at the start of it all, but after that …” He fixed Azirpahale with a curious expression. “Would you have still given away your sword?”

It was a question Aziraphale hadn’t expected, only because the answer to it was so obvious. He blinked. “Of course.”

The demon nodded, satisfied. “Then angel, I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth to find out what you were going to do next, no matter where we started.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “So we’d probably have ended up just the same.”

The thought of it made the angel smile, and he stepped closer to Crowley, standing close enough that their shoulders bumped and settled together, close and familiar and soft in spite of Crowley’s bony joints. “With different accents.”

“Well, yeah. With different accents. Naturally.”

-

Now with Chapter 10!

[jayalaw]

HTTYD3 FixIt: How to Crown A Dragon King, Chapter Six

@ashleybenlove @kingofthewilderwest @wolfie-dragon-rider @evilwriter37

Valka hadn't taken leading duties in a while, with people at least. She was better with dragons, where the dragons had simple agendas. As the chief's wife, which she had been a long time ago, it had been harder when her notions clashed with those of other Vikings.

Her day had started with an old lady marching in with tea. Valka had waited by her son's empty bed, having made sure she had removed all the stuffies that Hiccup had used as a decoy Gothi had read her the riot act. Rather, Gothi had drawn it in the dirt in fury and tried to hit her. Valka had caught the stick and dug her heels into the ground. They grunted against each other.

Gothi's eyes told Valka what she had probably drawn: "What were you thinking in letting him go when he needs his bed rest?"

"And who would I be if I stopped my son from trying to prevent a war?" Valka retorted. She craned her neck to look at the runes in the dirt.

Gothi pulled her stick free. She rapped Valka's arm; the armor took most of the blow. Valka still recoiled; the wise woman was old, but she had a punch.

"I remember when you took down Stoick with a blow like that before our wedding," she couldn't help but recall. "Aye, he listened to you. Can we call a truce?"

Gothi glared at her. Then she leaned her stick on the ground and gave a curt nod.

"I know. I wish he had stayed as well," Valka said. "But you know him. Stubborn like his father. And he wants to do what's right. Shall we have breakfast together?"

Gothi wouldn't walk beside her; she strode ahead with confidence. She was obviously not going to have breakfast with Valka.  

Valka shook her head. The next step was to oversee the village's rebuilding progress. Without the twins, at least no one would be blowing up the lumber on purpose.

She talked with Helga, one of Stoick's former generals, about the Timberjack cutting down the nearby forest. Helga made sure to replant saplings, but she fretted at how much burned. Before, Berk had been a relatively small village, and their fire system after was enough to prevent any mishaps. Grimmel taking down every building in one night was a concern.

"I don't think we have enough wood on Berk to fix it all of the houses," Helga said with worry. "We can trade for hardy lumber, but that may take time because we don't know when the traders are next due to come."

"Can we use a substitute in the meantime?" Valka pressed. "Or shall we cut down trees from nearby islands?"

"We could, but I worry that it leaves Berk open to another attack. Grimmel made our forces look like fools."

"Take a team with you," Valka urged her. "If we need assistance, we'll send up a distress signal. Stoick's ghost will not haunt you for reinforcing his village."

Helga managed a laugh that turned into a cough from the smoke. Valka walked away, pondering. Grimmel was not that much different from Drago; the main difference was that he was more hands-on with his darts and destruction; Drago always made sure to cower behind the Bewilderwest.

It was a concern that Grimmel had actually managed to succeed where Drago had failed: in destroying the village and the chief's confidence. Cloudjumper shared her sentiment. He drew in the dirt as he walked, and his horns furrowed.

If not for her promise to Hiccup to watch over the village, she would have taken Cloudjumper after Grimmel. It was what she was best at; finding Dragon Trappers and destroying them with fire and ice.

She had to trust that her son knew what he was doing. Hiccup believed in preventing war. Surely he would be safe. He wasn’t alone on the Island of Tomorrow. She had a job to do and she couldn’t ignore her son’s wishes again.

It took effort for her to watch over the team that Helga assembled. Cloudjumper flapped his wings and grumbled irritably at the baby dragons. Moose, the large dragon they had rescued earlier, was allowing the Vikings to use him to carry the lumber they needed. Valka stroked him, hoping that the Goregutter would be able to defend the village again.

#

Hiccup preferred his bacon fresh off the stove, and eaten with his friends in the Great Hall. His stomach turned as he chewed on the dried bacon offered with eggs.

The Great Hall on Tomorrow was filled with dusty walls, and cobwebs among the dust. Larger webs coated holes in the window. He wondered if Chucklehead had left because of the large spiders. Fishlegs hadn’t taken a bite of food, despite being exhausted; he kept stealing glances at the large arachnids.

“So, this is the place from where we were exiled,” Hiccup said, trying to sound snarky. “I guess we weren’t missing much.”

“Don’t be disrespectful, Hiccup,” Astrid hissed. “We have to win these people over to make sure they don’t declare war on us.”

“I think if they wanted to declare war, they wouldn’t give us breakfast.” Tuffnut was chewing on a cold mutton leg.

“They have to abide by sacred hospitality,” Fishlegs said. “Why hasn’t anyone cleaned this place?”

“It’s a place of ghosts,” Eret said, chewing on cold bacon. “That’s why. They don’t want to make anything permanent and tempt fate again.”

Toothless was eyeing the spiders. His tail and butt swung back and forth as if he wanted to pounce on the walls and gobble them up legs first.  

“Toothless, no,” Hiccup said firmly. “First that’s disgusting, and second, they may be the Guardian’s pets.”

Toothless slumped to the ground with disappointment. He was the only dragon who had refused to go to the stables. The Guardians hadn’t argued. They viewed him and merely tightened their hoods.

Grimmel ate without care. He had taken several plates of dried bacon and eggs and was laughing with several Trappers. Hiccup tensed. He swallowed some of his breakfast; bits of bacon seemed to lodge in his throat.

The sundial that was also covered in cobwebs changed angles. Grimmel stood, holding a goblet of water. His eyes glittered with malice.

"We are all here because we have a common enemy," he said. "A common enemy that has terrorized all of us. One that for all we know may approach soon."

"Don't say anything yet," Eret whispered. "He's setting the stage and to goad you into appearing unreasonable."

Hiccup hadn't even realized he had prepared to stand.  Astrid pressed a gloved hand to his upper arm.

"We'll have a chance to say our bit," she whispered. "Just hold on."

"You have all been terrorized. Driven to flee here to Tomorrow," he said. "Our lands ravaged, our sheep stolen. All because of one dragon."

Toothless growled. Hiccup reached out to scratch the scales behind Toothless's ears. He knew exactly what his dragon was feeling.

"And now we have a Red Death hunting us all down, one by one, we must choose a leader that can handle it."

A pause. Eret blinked. Toothless stopped mid-growl.

“What?” Hiccup mouthed.

"Aye." One chief stood. "A mysterious beast came in the night and laid waste to the Peaceable Islands. At least with the other dragons, there would be hundreds of them that we stood a chance of beating. But this one doesn't even give us time to retaliate."

"I cannot even lay my father in his final resting place, because the Red Death melted his icy tomb," a larger chief stood up; his chair had cushions. "And it also fired at me in the rear! What does it say that I have a flaming behind and that I cannot sleep properly? My papa would not have approved of his son Norbert the Nutjob being treated so disrespectfully."

"I don't think he's referring to us raiding the Dragon Trapper factions," Ruffnut whispered with an aura of confidentiality.

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Hiccup replied snarkily. Disbelief mixed his nerves. What was Grimmel's game, if the Berkians weren't the common enemy?

Other chiefs spoke up: they mentioned a mysterious large dragon that had emerged in the night and burned down all of their land.

"With all of these concerns, should you not put your faith in a leader that has a reputation for defeating the strongest dragons?" Grimmel urged. "I am the one who can defeat this Red Death. Can anyone else claim such daring feats?"

"Hiccup's beaten a Red Death!" Tuffnut shouted.

Another pause. Hiccup didn't even have time to process the words.

"Who?" Norbert the Nutjob said.

"Yes, Chief Hiccup of the Berkian tribe," Eret said, standing. "The tale has surely reached your ears. When he was a lad, Hiccup rode a Night Fury and flew to battle a Red Death in the skies. And he lost his leg for it."

Eyes fell on Hiccup's peg leg. He shifted his weight. Toothless glared at all of the VIking tribes.

"Perhaps it did happen," Grimmel said. "His tribe will certainly back him up. But even if it did, the chief is a mere boy. He hasn't properly led."

That was a good point, Hiccup had to admit. He hadn't led his tribe for a long time, compared to his father.

"Have you actually killed a Red Death?" Norbert asked. "Have either of you?"

"I have my experience," Grimmel said.

"Yes," Hiccup replied. "We had to draw it into a dive and trigger its firepower. We were both lucky to make it out alive. "

The hall silenced. Something had changed, but Hiccup wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. Grimmel’s calm had vanished.

“Do you even have any proof?” he demanded. “For all we know, you may have lied about the Red Death perishing.”

“We were all there,” Astrid spoke up. “We all rode on dragons and faced that thing.”

“It was super cool!” Tuffnut said.

“I hit that dragon in the eye with a hammer!” Snotlout bragged.

“I can offer stats on how big it was and that it didn’t have a blind spot,” Fishlegs offered.

“All your tribesmen obviously vouch for you,” Grimmel sneered. “But obviously they will not speak against their chief. And no outsiders here were witnesses to the battle.”

“You don’t have proof either,” Eret retorted. “Show us the skull of the Red Death you defeated. Who are your witnesses?”

That silenced Grimmel. He clutched his goblet as if it were a throwing knife.

“Hiccup would make a better king than Grimmel,” Eret went on. “He has protected his tribe for years when his father fell in battle. He took me in when Drago Bludivist sentenced me to death. I was an outsider, and once an enemy, but I’ve seen the Chief of Berk at his finest. He protected me, and he will protect all of you.”

Hiccup wanted to hiss at Eret to shut up. He didn’t like the way Grimmel stared daggers at him.

“It seems we have two potential contenders,” the head Guardian said. “You have your choice, as you did hundreds of years ago. Spend this day wisely, Vikings and heroes, and gather your evidence. You will be deciding who rules your future.”

That didn’t sound good. Before Hiccup could stand up and tell everyone that he didn’t want to be king, Astrid tugged on his sleeve.

“I think you’re stuck, babe,” she whispered. “If you back down now, they’ll go for Grimmel. And then Berk would be toast.”

Hiccup growled. Of course.

[aspoonofsugar]

Hello! Have you watched Psycho Pass? If so, what do you think of Akane's arc, in terms of how it adds to the themes of the story?

Hello anon!

I am sorry for this late reply, but I took the chance your ask gave me to rewatch the series (the first season), so that I could have a fresh prospective on it.

When it comes to Akane’s arc it is important to underline that all the three main characters in Psycho Pass are connected and foil each other.

Moreover, Kogami, Makishima and Akane are all representative of a specific part of society.

1) Kogami is a latent criminal.

2) Makishima is a person who is criminally asymptomatic.

3) Akane is a normal citizen whose psycho pass is within the accepted levels.

When it comes to Akane specifically she isn’t simply a normal citizen, but she is the ideal citizen and this is something which has been observed several times during the series:

Akane’s friends, Kogami and the Sybil itself have all defined Akane as somehow an ideal person even if they all say so for different reasons.

1) Akane’s friends say so because from their prospectives she appears as a person “blessed by Sybil” and so as one of the lucky individuals who can gain the most from the system.

She has a psycho pass which never gets clouded and is valued very highly by the system meaning that she can aim to an important position in society.

However, despite this, Akane is immediately presented as a troubled person. She wants to feel fulfilled and is scared of lacking the ability to do her job in a competent way. In episode two it is made clear that she is searching for a sense of identity and individuality:

Why did you become an Inspector?

That said, the fact that Akane is shown so troubled despite her being a privileged individual and despite the Sybil system being supposedly a system designed to make people happy and free from worries is meant to immediately underline one of the contradictions of the system itself. Not only does the system make life difficult for people who are identified as lacking abilities or latent criminals, but also an individual who is supposedly the perfect citizen to live in such a system is shown struggling. So, since her very appearance, Akane shows us how the happiness the system promises is an illusion.

2) and 3) Kogami and the Sybil’s assestments of Akane are similar and yet opposite in their conclusions.

As a matter of fact Kogami comments that if every person were like Akane, the Sybil system would become useless and people could live without it.

Sybil too considers Akane as a precious speciman, but ironically they don’t share Kogami’s prospective on her. If anything the system would love to have more people similar to Akane and they have decided to use her in order to evolve. Their objective is to win her over on an emotional level. The system argues that if they were to manage such a thing they could develop a methodology to make society evolve in a way that the normal citizens could accept the truth about Sybil without being shocked by it.

So, it is clear that in Akane’s character lie both the potential to overcome Sybil and the potential to make the system evolve more. Which one between Kogami and Sybil is right is a question left open by the series and every watcher can give their own answer according to their own vision of the world.

So, Akane is introduced as a naive newcomer who is searching for a place fit for her in society and her development leads her to find it by giving her own answer concerning the job of Inspector, the Sybil System and what law truly is.

To better explore Akane’s journey let’s compare her to both Kogami and Makishima and let’s see in which way she is similar to them and in which way she differs.

AKANE AND KOGAMI: JUSTICE AND DUTY

Yuki suggests that Akane and Kogami may be similar people and she is right. What Kogami and Akane share is a strong sense of justice and the ability to see that their duty and justice don’t always overlap:

Kogami: “You were able to put justice before your duty”

Akane: “Solving crimes or protecting our own Psycho-Pass… Which one is more important?”

However, they give their love for justice two opposite spins:

Kogami underlines how he considers a part of his duties to be strong enough to be able to handle a dominator of his own free will. He also says that it’s not the dominator which kills the criminals, but Kogami himself.

When it comes to the act of killing a person of one’s own free will Akane has shown not to be able to:

Makishima tells Akane she failed and kills Yuki as a form of punishment for Akane’s inability to act of her own free will. However, what Makishima misses is that Akane channels her own free will in ways which differ from the ones Makishima recognizes:

Akane might not take responsibility when it comes down to kill a person, but she does when it is about saving them. She has shown it since the very first episode when she chose to ignore the correct procedure and refused to let Masaoka and Kogami shoot the woman even when the dominator was in paralyzer mode.

I actually don’t even think Akane has killed a person (with or without the dominator) during the first season. On the contrary she has used the dominator to save other people’s lives:

When Ginoza’s dominator is being cracked by Sybil in order to kill Kogami, Akane acts faster and hits Kogami with a paralyzer saving his life in the process.

Later on she asks Sybil to hack a dominator, so that it gets stuck in paralyzer mode and unlocked:

The dominators are objects highly symbolic in the series and in general in the universe of Psycho Pass since they are Sybil’s eyes. They are introduced as instruments always able to correctly judge every person. However, by the end of the series, Akane has overcome this vision of the dominators and has basically transformed one of them in a stun-gun. Eventually Akane accepts that the judgement given by Sybil is not objective and decides to change a dominator into a weapon she can use of her own free will, exactly like Kogami is ready to shoot with his gun. It is just that Akane’s weapon, differently from Kogami’s, isn’t a lethal one.

Kogami’s gun and Akane’s dominator are contrasted in the opening:

The gun represents a justice which acts outside the system in order to do what is right and whose main aim is to stop the criminals in order to punish them and avenge the innocents hurt by them. The hacked dominator represents a kind of justice which operates within the system using the blind-spots of the system itself and the limited freedom the system grants in order to save as many people as possible:

In the end Kogami is ready to self-destroy if this means he can kill Makishima. Akane on the other hand prefers to let Makishima live if this means she can save Kogami too:

AKANE AND MAKISHIMA: HALF-ANARCHISTS

Let’s consider this scene and the definition of anarchism offered:

Saiga comments that Makishima is somehow an anarchist, but is too focused on destruction and lacks any constructive idea. Akane is the opposite:

Akane has shown a strong desire to make society better since early on, but as Sybil says when they confront her she imagines an ideal she can’t quite grasp and can’t come up with a way to reach it in a short time. If Makishima is too concentrated on destruction and he doesn’t care about people, Akane is too focused on an ideal future and cares about people too much to think of sacrificing them in a revolution to change the world.

This is why when Sybil asks her this key question:

Tsunemori Akane, do you wish a world without the Sybil System?

Her answer is no. She hates Sybil, but she doesn’t want a world where people kill each other like the one Makishima showed her.

Akane’s answer has its root in Akane’s strong love for life. It is this which makes her different from Makishima:

Makishima: “I want to see the splendor of people’s souls. I want to check and see if it is really precious. However, when humans base their lives around Sybil’s Oracle, without ever consulting their own wills, do they really hold any value?”

Akane: “There is no way they don’t!”

In this scene Akane reaches a turning point. She recognizes that there is value in thinking about things on one’s own and understands that what matters is not what good and evil are:

I’m sure the important thing wasn’t the conclusion of good or evil. I feel it was to think about it yourself, agonize over it and accept it.

Akane agrees with Makishima here. Using one’s free will is something indispensable for humans and Akane even seems to think that it is something necessary to be truly happy:

Yuki: It was fun and easy. I didn’t experience any hardship at all. Someone else always took care of things for me and I never even asked myself what was important. Say, Akane, do you think I was still happy that way?

As long as people are alive they can always become happy because they can always grow and evolve. It isn’t the system which gives people happiness, but it is thinking about things in an independent way. However, a person must be alive to do so. So, while Makishima sees the system as something which prevents people from thinking with their own heads, Akane sees it as an imperfect and detestable weapon which has still the merit to protect the lives of the citizens. And as long as those lives are safe there is value in them and there is for them a chance of happiness.

This is Akane’s starting point and she is shown to apply the same ideology on a larger scale:

She thinks that people, as long as they are alive, will find a new way of life which will overcome Sybil. She thinks it will be in this way that society will be reformed.

In short, Akane accepts Makishima’s premise, but arrives to her own conclusion which is the opposite of Makishima’s. This is why Makishima never accepts Akane nor respects her:

He sees her as a puppet of Sybil because she refuses to act outside the system.

Let’s note that Makishima and Akane’s respective ideologies can be used to criticize each other and to show each other’s limits.

On one hand Makishima makes valid points about the system influencing negatively people’s thought processes and he might be right when he says it might be necessary to destroy it even if violence may be necessary to do so.

On the other hand Makishima’s vision of a person’s free will is incredibly partial and it is often plainly wrong:

Makishima presents himself as a person who gives people the means to express their repressed wills. However, in the series Makishima’s accomplices are often described as victims of Makishima’s manipulation skills. A manipulated person is the opposite of a free and independent person.

In a sense it is as Kagari says:

If Sybil is God, Makishima is playing the role of the Devil and is simply manipulating people to act in a way opposite to the one the Sybil wants. It is a change of behaviour, but it isn’t acting in an independent way. Makishima simply associates acts of free will with violent actions, but this is false and Akane is the living embodyment of this. She chooses not to kill exactly like Makishima chooses to do so.

A good example of Makishima and Akane’s contrasting prospectives is the case of Ouryou Rikako:

Makishima kills Rikako because she lacked originality and depth and doesn’t even explain to her what she did wrong. While Akane keeps thinking that no matter what people can find the right answer if their life is protected, Makishima thinks the opposite. If you aren’t able to intuitively give the right answer when Makishima asks you, then you are worthless.

This is why Makishima kills Rikako, despite her being still a child with several chances of becoming wiser in the future. And this is why he loses interest in Akane after she fails to kill him. And this despite the fact that Akane is able to change and to grow stronger after that failure.

CONCLUSION: LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF AKANE’S IDEALISM

Each one of Psycho Pass’ main characters offers a different prospective on the system and on justice and each prospective is partial and imperfect. This is why every character either fails to obtain what they want or they only partially obtain it.

1) Kogami is eventually able to kill Makishima, but in order to do so he gives up being a detective and decides to make himself nothing more than a hunting dog.

2) Makishima isn’t able to destroy the system, but in his final moments he is finally able to find a relationship which is irreplaceable i.e. the one with his hunter Kogami.

3) Akane is able to find the sense of purpose and individuality that she is shown searching for in the beginning. However, despite this positive development she fails to reach her objective i.e. stopping Kogami from becoming a criminal.

Her failure underlines how Akane’s POV, despite its beauty and importance, isn’t perfect.

This is hinted at in episode 1 when Akane fights Masaoka and Kogami in order to stop them from shooting the rape victim. Akane is right about the woman, but it is also true that Akane’s actions put her own life, the woman’s life and the enforcers’ lives in danger:

When Masaoka is about to shoot the woman in the beginning the dominator is in paralyzer mode meaning that the woman wouldn’t have been killed. Akane, however, is against shooting her and stops Masaoka. At this point the woman starts panicking after observing the fight between Akane and her subordinates. The fear of being killed leads her crime coefficient to rise up until she is considered an individual who can be killed. In the end Akane is able to make said coefficient go down, but at that point Ginoza arrives and the woman is hit with a paralyzer like she should have been in the beginning according to the procedure.

So, the first episode shows us how Akane’s strong idealism and compassion towards people deeply contrasts with the utilitaristic law of Sybil which is cold and unethical, but it is efficient. In the end the woman is paralyzed, she is given a theraphy and is able to go back to her life. This is exactly how things would have gone if Akane had let Masaoka shot her in the beginning. In the end Akane’s strong idealism didn’t change things exactly like it isn’t able to convince Kogami or to stop Sybil.

That said, it isn’t useless:

Akane being able to connect with the woman shows the viewers how the system is reductive and how the crime coefficient and the psycho pass aren’t a perfect indicator of what a person is like. There is definately another way of doing things Akane is able to intuitively grasp.

Akane’s ideology isn’t non-sense. It is a deep and beautiful prospective which is very difficult to realize. It is in this inefficiency which lies its major limit.

Thank you for the ask!