#and nor did it even seem possible to understand as 9 year olds generally get 0 exposure to info about these issues)

[chemicalarospec]

My experience with Hannibal so far:

Jeff the killer: kills people. Mutilates and eats them too.

Me: Yeah that's alright with me (skipping the eye gore tho)

Jeff the evil liar: evilly lies to someone about the cause of their psychosis

Me: I Am Not Okay With This

[sparrowwritesforbnha]

When Crows Cry

Y! Villain! Tokoyami Fumikage x Reader

(Deku x Reader if you squint)

Summary

While the war between Hero Society and Paranormal Liberation Front is nearing its climax, you find yourself in the clutches of one of it´s members. Tokoyami Fumikage, a hero turned villain you admired as a child, seems to be weirdly infatuated with you. Will you be able to regain freedom, or will you maybe find a way to turn things around? 

Warnings

Yandere, slight mention of violence, potential NSFW in the future

Chapter 1

Insanity, you thought, Insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly yet expecting a different outcome. Isn’t that what they say?. He worried you, sitting there on the hospital bed, looking at you like a kicked puppy, while holding his arm. It was hanging to far down, probably disjointed. You wondered how that could even happen. Doesn’t he have any sensitivity for pain left? Heck, pain is a safety measurement of the human body, doesn´t he know?

It was not planned that way at first. Being a doctor, a healer was the original idea, the logic solution considering you had a healing quirk, but fate had a different idea. You met him during your time at UA, which was not unusual since he (as the number one hero and proud UA- Alumni) was usually present for festivals or special lessons. His inspired sight on the hero world, and heroism itself was not just motivational for you, but everyone else as well. What you remembered clearly to this day is the way he looked at the students, including you. Until then it was the plan to finish UA´s General Course, go to university, become a doctor and that would´ve been it. Your quirk was not flashy or one of a kind per se. But he saw something in you, to this day you struggled to understand what exactly that was. Even though he was only 24 years old back then (only about 9 years older than you at that time) he encouraged you to try for the hero course. You would be lying if it hadn´t been a dream of yours, it pretty much was impossible to name a single person that never had the wish to be hero even once. But being an actual pro-Hero only equipped with a healing quirk? Seemed like an insane thought, considering there were heroes and villains with quirks like Dynamight, Shigaraki or Dabi. Being able to heal people, save them from death is pretty neat, but plain in comparison to a literal explosion quirk. Still, he kept motivating you, telling you that the very thing making a person a hero is the thought itself and not the quirk and so on. And to be fair his training was fruitful, the glowing tendrils you used for healing did make an excellent capture weapon. Even though it was a long journey for you to fully master the combat portion, your quirk could offer, he never lost hope in you. He always was awfully positive, basically shining in his own light. It didn´t surprise you that he was compared to All Might at every chance possible. They both had this aura of charisma and altruism around them. He made it so easy to trust him and you did, took him up on his offer and in fact managed to enter the Hero Course through grades and get you licence. It didn´t surprise you (nor people around you), when he was the first one to offer you a place in his agency.

Deku was a strange person, on the one side being this sunny, friendly hero that saved hundreds of people, while geeking out about other heroes even though he himself was places over all of them in the annual rankings, but on the other side he seemed almost mysterious to you, calculating even. To this day you couldn´t fully comprehend what drove him into picking you out of the crowd. Though, your talent for healing was a great fit for Deku´s talent for breaking almost every bone in his body. And now here you were, his sidekick, the one always nearby, directly by his side and suddenly a member of hero society, officially a Pro-Sidekick yourself. It wasn´t supposed to be like that, but did you complain? Not really. You certainly weren´t complaining about your paycheck. “How bad is it? Do you think you can fix it” He looked up at you, hopeful look in his jade eyes. Maybe he could go right back to patrol. Your Boss really was a workaholic.

“Comparing the injuries I treated in the past, it´s nothing, but that does not mean, that it´s something you should take lightly.”, you smiled at him. “At least it shouldn´t hurt that bad.” He gave a curt nod, mentally preparing for moving the injury and pulled the zipper of his costume down, far enough for you to help him take out his injured arm. The number ones rather slim frame made it easier to give you a short overview of the damage his quirk caused. The joint of his shoulder seemed to have left it´s socket, the muscle of his upper arm was pulled less taut compared to the other arm, potentially due to a bicep tear, the skin around already turned into a deep purple. You hummed, while carefully examining him, “How did that happen? Is that the recoil of your Black Whip? The muscle seemed too have fully teared this time, that does not happen, usually” He nodded, faintly cringing at the pain. “That´s right. I used Black Whip to catch the guy, but I think I underestimated his strength. Which is noteworthy since he neither seemed to have any obvious physical strength nor a raw power quirk. I wonder if it was a hidden advantage of his given abilities or if he used some other way to enhance his natural power, on the other hand his quirk was water based, so it would be exceptionally uncommon or- “ You stifled a laugh his fascination with quirks could get out of hand sometimes, best to stop him before he could run off to get one of his various notebooks. This man never arrived in modern century, always scowling when you used a digital pad to write on. According to him digital notes lack the inspiration. “Deku? Deku”, you raised you voice a little “Can you hear me?” He blushed a little after being caught in one of his infamous mumblings. “Yes, I´m sorry (Y/N), go on”, smiling awkwardly he scratched the back his head with the good hand, messing up the already unruly curls.

“Alright then. You know the drill, please keep still for a moment, boss.” The tendrils came naturally by now, slowly wrapping around the injured arm, keeping the muscle and joint in the correct position, before glowing. The man yelped softly at the sting of his joint popping back into it´s socket. The aggressive purple of the bruises receded in unison with the soft glow of your quirk. Smiling at you, he rose to his full height to roll his shoulders back. “Thank you. It feels a lot better now!” It was daunting to stand in front of him, nothing you could ever get used to. According to Videos from his own time in UA, he hasn´t always been that tall, the opposite in fact. But now he overlooked most people even if he still was pretty slim, not lanky though. His muscles were defined, but not of the bulky unusable bodybuilder kind, rather the kind of muscle you gain through years of intense hero training.

Even if you just came from a mission, it was not likely that your shift would be close to be over. Having learned from past experiences, you sat down on one of the padded armchairs. The Infirmary of the Deku Agency was unusually comfortable, which does make sense, considering the Top Hero and Agency founder spends a great deal of his time there. As you thought, peace did not last long.

The ringing of Deku’s pager broke the comfortable silence between you two. The first times you had heard the ringtones it unsettled you a little. Your Boss did nothing to hide his fascination with the former Number One Hero, even used his signature “I AM HERE” and “PLUS ULTRA” as his ringtone. “Hm. I got it. We´re on our way. Send reinforcements now, please”. Deku was all business now, which could only mean that you were going to work overtime today. Sighing you stood up to straighten your hero costume, time to be a professional.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were practically flying to your destination, using your tendrils to catapult you forward, a move you may or may not have stolen from Pro-Hero Cellophane. “They want to free Gigantomachia?!” You stared at him in disbelief, almost hitting a lamppost. “But, Boss. Isn´t he in Tartarus?” He tried to match your speed to answer you properly, “He was, yes. But apparently, he got transferred to a hidden medical centre, due to an injury. I just don´t understand how they found out. They must have someone in our ranks. That is concerning!”  

Indeed, it would be. The Paranormal Liberation Front (or short PLF) was nothing to be taken lightly. They have been one of the most feared threats, since the League of Villains merged with it. Shigaraki now leading the Organization, together with some of the strongest Villains and some heroes, turned to their side. Hero society changed after the PLF was formed. You could clearly remember the day you saw the emergency broadcast, informing the population of this tragedy. The Organization managed to gain sympathy by lying and inducing fear under the pretext of ensuring freedom for everyone. It was laughable, but even sadder was the fact that these criminals managed to gather a decent crowd of supporters, luckily not enough to harm the existing structure, but enough to worry Heroes and Civilians alike.

“There it is!”, Deku’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking into the direction the number one pointed you spotted a cloud of smoke and stirred up dirt. The building they attacked seemed awfully inconspicuous, seemingly the perfect place to hide a villain.

You arrived at the same time as other Pro-Heroes, if you would´ve had time to look around you would´ve spotted some friends from school, but you were not granted the luxury of having time. Not now. A roar took your attention away from the ruckus around the medical centre. The sound coming from inside the- well inside of whatever was left of the building. It was followed by the sound of breaking glass and other things. Whatever was going in there was powerful, extremely strong. You and Deku did not wait long, you followed him as he sprinted towards the sound. “(Y/N), secure civilians! Come in after!” “Yes!” You didn´t bother with formalities, immediately springing to action. Luckily there weren´t many civilians there, due to the building being located in a less densely populated part of the city, with most buildings being empty. There were a few casualties, thankfully only a few minor injuries. Nothing you had to treat immediately. After securing the outside of the building together with a few fellow sidekicks you finally managed to enter the building, already hearing the sound of fighting. The sight of the battlefield was gruesome, you knew you eventually must work with something similar but seeing it this early in your career…. The floor was scattered with people in lab coats, hero costumes, guard uniforms. Blood staining their bodies. You could see that there wasn´t much you could for them, their injuries were too severe. To your left laid a body- clad in a lab coat, head missing. Luckily darkness hid your grimace. The rational part of your brain didn´t want to meet whoever was the cause of all this, but fortunately heroes weren´t made to be rational. Pushing forward you tried to ignore the bodies, tried not to think about who died here, who was loving these people, who was sitting at home with a cooked meal waiting for them. Maybe asking themselves what was taking their loved one so long. Did they know? Was there a news broadcast already? You couldn´t recall seeing any reporters or helicopters somewhere. Surely it was just a question of time. After all reporters were like sharks, as soon as they smell a fight, murder or other gruesome act of violence, they would come in a flock in order to be the first one with the big scoop. They simply don´t care about trivial things like decency or privacy. You clearly remembered your first mission, a few “brave” -or rather impudent- reporters tried to record the severed bodies of the victims. Humans really went the extra mile in order to appease to their need for voyeurism.

The sounds grew louder, it was amazing how big this building was. It was not helping that the light was flickering. You spotted a green flash. Deku was currently fighting a guy dressed in a black straitjacket, only his mouth was uncovered. Moonfish? Was that it? He hasn´t been spotted, since All for One freed him, you thought.  It was a big newsflash back then, as he was one of the first ones to ever flee Tartarus, which until then was known as the safest place on earth, even named after the place the titans were held.

Finally, you were close enough to hear the villains scratchy voice “Ahhh, hero. Opening you, seeing your guts. Pretty. So pretty. No. This is work. So alluring. But no. Can't...Pretty flesh. Gah! So enticing though...Gotta do the job. Free Giga. Free Giga. Kill, hero. Kill, hero.” He kept rambling to himself, trying to pierce the number one hero with his disgusting teeth. Deku’s veins were protruding, glowing in a faintly pink light while he kept bashing the teeth that kept coiling in his direction. He was clearly struggling by now. He just could not get close enough to use his quirk properly. He was used to close combat fights, but as soon as he a whole row of teeth, the first grew back. Not waiting for an order you ran up to them. It took the Villain a while to notice you. You wondered if he has eyeholes in his questionable outfit, because it felt like his glance was piercing your skin. “Ahhh, new person. Never seen. Pretty. So pretty. No. This is work. Can't...Pretty flesh. Gah! So enticing. But yes, but no. NO!!Gotta do the job. Free Giga. Free Giga. Kill, hero. Kill, hero” Your eyes locked with jade ones, a silent understanding between the two of you. Then you started talking. “You´re Moonfish, right? Why are you here?” He was taken aback for half a second, probably trying to comprehend your question in his loud mind. “Free Giga, Kill Hero. Kill Hero. Kill Hero. NO time, but flesh, so pretty so fresh. Want flesh. No!!” You stepped a bit closer to him. Hiding your left hand behind your back, you hoped he wouldn´t notice the glowing tendril protruding from it, slithering around to his behind. “Flesh. Do you like that?” It surprised you that you managed to keep a somewhat innocent smile, feigning interest. “Flesh. Flesh warm, flesh soft. Flesh goo- NOOO. NO MUSN`T. But pretty flesh, so pretty. So—” He kept rambling. Good, I hope he is distracted enough. Springing to action, you snapped your fingers. The tendrils soaring up and curling around his head, keeping his mouth closed. Your Boss, didn´t wait a second longer. Screaming his signature, “ONE FOR ALL: FULL COWL – SHOOT STYLE”, he smashed the remaining teeth, using the recoil for a close combat attack. With a final “St. Louis Smash Air Force”, the green haired hero knocked the villain out.  He turned to you, not a tad breathless. Seriously how does he do that? “Well done, (Y/N). Quick thinking”, if you weren´t already used to it, you are sure his million-watt smile would´ve knocked you out right next to Moonfish. This man had zero idea of his effect on people.

But you really didn´t have time to dwell on it. Both of you kept running towards the banging sound. “Shoot, I think they´re trying to break to the wall.” You stared at him in disbelief, slightly out of breath from running. “Wait- “, you kept huffing. Where the hell does he take all this stamina? “Do you mean- to tell me that they just keep him in a -no- normal room?” He hummed, “No not a normal room, but there are less precautions. He still wears quirk-cancelling cuffs, the walls here are strengthened and he is under 24/7 surveillance. But the safety standard is still lower than it should be. That´s why the location here is top secret. Well, it is supposed to be at least.”

Whatever answer you wanted to give stuck in your throat as you arrived at the source of the noise. Behind the armoured glass stood Gigantomachia at full height. He´s been captured when you were still in kindergarten, watching the screen and cheering the heroes on. He looked less imposing on the tabloids. But now you were in front of him, seeing him in his full 25m glory. Even though Deku took you to many fights, this was visually the most daunting experience. Something put you off thought. He seemed to use his fists on very specific places of the glass. According to the information you got about him on the way, he wasn´t supposed to be able to strategically think on his own. But there wasn´t anybody in here with you. Right? Besides, where was the person to kill all those poor people in the hall?

“Um, Deku? Where are they?”, he looked just as confused as you. He opened his mouth to answer, when something caught his eye. “Look, there!”. He pointed to the corner of a room. There laid someone, clothes to flashy to not be a hero’s costume. You stepped closer. Relief flooded you, when you could see a faint pulsing on his neck. In the distance the sounds of fighting grew louder. You turned around to your boss. “I can handle this. The barrier doesn´t look like it will break anytime soon. I will come after you, as soon as I’m finished here.” He smiled proudly at you and sticking out his upturned thumb. “Yes, good thinking. Call me when you need help!” You smiled at him and turned around to the hero. You didn´t know his name, but you believed that you met him before maybe at a smaller mission, maybe at one of the hero galas. He looked in a bad shape. His side was bleeding, it looked like he was pierced with claws. You just hoped the wound wasn´t deep enough to puncture the lung. That would be exhausting to heal.  With a small glance back you confirmed that Gigantomachia was still safely behind the protective barrier before summoning the tendrils. It was tedious work, whatever attacked him had done a great job. Almost too good. Suspiciously good. He hurt him severely, but the claw marks on the man’s side seemed almost carefully placed. Being deep, but not dangerously deep in critical places. Deep enough to draw blood but lacking depth only in places where the arteries were running. Whatever had meticulously cut him, you just hoped it was far away from you. But fate was an asshole.

[tiramisiyu]

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years. 

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person. 

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.) 

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him. 

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms. 

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness. 

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself. 

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date. 

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe. 

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before. 

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak - 

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man 

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position. 

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks). 

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers. 

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian��s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then. 

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear. 

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much. 

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!! 

Sound Effects 

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts 

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do? 

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left. 

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring? 

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys. 

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date. 

[shihalyfie]

The Kaiser wasn’t very good at being a villain (and that’s the point, actually)

Ken’s journey of redemption is generally well-documented overall, and it was explicit enough in the series that there’s only so much you really need to explain it, but due to the blurred boundary of what was supernatural influence from the Dark Seed and what was Ken’s own emotional problems wreaking havoc, it’s somewhat more difficult to bridge that gap between the Kaiser and Ken, and how they can be the same person.

The easiest way to understand it comes from both directions. One is that Ken, even in his normal element, is much more assertive than he’s often given credit for -- it’s just that the Kaiser is a (fragile) manifestation of that very carefully cultivated to channel that in all of the wrong directions. The other has to do with the fact that the Kaiser is actually really terrible at being a villain, and the persona itself is very fragile and difficult for him to maintain.

Rewatching the first half of 02 shows multiple indications that, for all he seemed to be the stereotype “evil genius”, Ken was forcing himself into the mold. He was never cut out for it from day one. Even from the beginning, Ken’s actual nature as a lonely and inherently kind eleven-year-old child was tearing apart at the Kaiser persona, and the fateful episode 21 was not so much a single turning point for him as much as it was the last straw in a series of things tumbling down for him.

Before we continue: While all of the meta on this blog is only possible thanks to support and input from a handful of friends (whose names will not be disclosed on account of privacy requests), this one in particular arose from a long and extensive discussion with said friends that I am extremely grateful for. As always, I hope I was able to convey your points well.

Well, firstly, it’s important to understand that, much like nearly any other character in this series, Ken’s surface demeanor is a bit deceptive. The Crest of Kindness has the original Japanese name of yasashisa (優しさ), which has a secondary meaning of “gentleness” (lost in translation, but still apparent with the bubble metaphor in 02 episode 23). That also ties into the secondary meaning of “kind” -- it’s not just about being naturally “soft”, but actively choosing to be gentle with others even when you’re theoretically capable of not doing so. (For those of you who have seen Appmon, the entire point of that series was about what it means to consciously and deliberately choose to be kind, and, in fact, quite a few parallels could be made between Ken and Haru...)

The contrast between Daisuke and Ken goes far beyond just the surface. Daisuke’s surface demeanor is abrasive, but he’s not actually very good at being assertive until push comes to shove, and he otherwise tends to bend easily to others or get overwhelmed; in contrast, Ken has a more polite demeanor and for the most part seems non-confrontational, but has much stronger control of his emotions and is more easily able to be assertive than Daisuke is. (Of course, both of them share the common point of being like-minded when it’s something that really matters, but Ken is much better at imposing his will and getting what he wants done before Daisuke ever gets to that point, which is what fuels the whole punchline of Daisuke and Ken’s Shopping Carol.)

So, the point is: Daisuke is kind out of instinct and just “naturally” being so, but Ken is kind because he consciously believes in treating others well and not causing conflict, and not causing pain to others.

That’s not to say that Ken’s behavior is out of suppression or anything! It’s not a case like Takeru, who’s trying to push complicated emotions down while pretending they’re not boiling under the surface, nor is he like Hikari, who’s compulsively pressing her emotions down out of a desire not to burden others. Rather, even as early as 02 episode 26, he’s very straightforward about what his issue is and what he thinks about it. Ken’s “shyness” during the latter half of 02 is largely due to shame and hesitation from not knowing the other 02 kids well, but as the series goes on and as we go into post-02 material, he indicates that he’s perfectly wiling to be vocal about what he thinks without necessarily fighting any compulsion to suppress it. For someone who claims he doesn’t know much about his own heart, he arguably seems to have the best grip on understanding himself compared to a lot of this cast!

So in essence, the main take-home here is that Ken is theoretically capable of being strong-willed and assertive, and is very good at choosing when he wants to be assertive and when he wants to hold back. And he likes seeing people get along, and he wants everyone to be happy, and he doesn’t like seeing people be hurt or hurting others, and under normal circumstances, Ken has very good control of his emotions for the most part and quite a lot of self-awareness. That’s why Ken is the one to get the unique designation of this Crest; everyone in this cast can be said to be generous and supportive of others in some form, but there’s a difference between being a “natural” doormat who defers to others by default (Daisuke being a very good indicator of how this kind of mentality has a flip side of lack of self-esteem and high insecurity, and Tamers’s Takato being a good indication of how “being deferential” doesn’t necessarily preclude you from having tendencies towards selfishness or cowardice), versus choosing to be kind by understanding everything and still being gentle out of a belief that it’s the right thing to do (again: see Shinkai Haru). And it’s why Wormmon says in the 02 episode 23 flashback that Ken’s kindness can be used against him; being “kind” in this way requires a lot of mental fortitude, strength, and guts, all of which are things that could easily be very bad things when applied in the wrong direction.

This means that all the Dark Seed really needed to do in order to turn him into the Kaiser...was make him lose grip on that self-control.

Actually, Ken says it himself in less-than-subtle words in Spring 2003:

…It was revenge. But who was this revenge against? Did I want to triumph over the ones who made fun of me? The ones who looked down on me and used me? But… In the end, it was revenge against myself. I couldn’t do anything but deny the kind of human being that I was.

So in other words, the Kaiser persona was, effectively, a self-loathing eleven-year-old boy throwing a massive tantrum. A lot of the Kaiser’s actions in the first half of 02 are honestly rather petty -- he’s basically upset at the kids spoiling his holiday in 02 episode 6, he attempts torturing Daisuke out of a petty grudge over a soccer sliding tackle in 02 episode 8, and everything to do with expanding his territory and eventually (hopefully?) becoming ruler of the Digital World is frankly very sloppy. For all he’s said to be a genius, his genius only seems to extend to book smarts, and his “tactical planning abilities” never really expand beyond that of a soccer field sort of affair; his way of locking down control on other things is basically just “brainwash it harder” or “whip it harder” and applying harder brute force instead of doing something in the long-term like, say, trying to rule with charisma and recruiting allies.

(Again, bringing Appmon back into this, seeing Cloud in action will give you a much better example of a charismatic human villain who’s actually competent at his job. Or, heck, you can even look back at Savers’s Kurata, who at least was savvy enough to pull strings with people in powerful positions. Or even the Kaiser’s predecessor Saiba Neo from V-Tamer, who may have been openly sadistic but still had the sense to align himself with background power. Really, compared to all of these folks, the Kaiser is downright pathetic.)

Remembering that Ken fell into the Kaiser persona partially as a desperate attempt to become a “perfect person” like Osamu, Ken “imitated” Osamu’s cruelty to him because he felt that was how he could improve himself to become a “strong” person better than him. But the irony here is that Osamu’s “cruelty” was something that he himself never liked, and mainly came from lashing out at Ken due to feeling like he had a lack of control over his own life. So Osamu was never happy in that position, and Ken, who is indirectly pointed out via the bubble metaphor to be even more fundamentally inclined towards gentleness, is probably even more miserable.

Because everything Ken does as the Kaiser is “unfocused lashing out at everyone”, the Kaiser has less control over his emotions than Ken normally would. Takeru manages to emotionally pin him to a corner by confronting him with enough assertion in 02 episode 19 (this is before he punches him), and correctly points out that the Kaiser isn’t capable of winning with words (i.e. ideologically) and resorts to violence as the first thing he can think of. You’d think that if the Kaiser were actually someone with the self-confidence to consider the other Chosen Children beneath him, he wouldn’t even bother giving them the time of day, but Takeru just happening to be a little assertive is enough to make him lose his composure and start falling apart, and a lot of his shaken “insects!” yelling comes from him seeming pretty desperate to cling onto that rather than being all that confident about his natural superiority over anyone. 02 episode 20 establishes that he’s getting himself in over his head by tampering with the powers of darkness he can’t control, and while, on a plot level, it means that he’s misjudged his own capabilities, on a metaphorical level, it corresponds to the fact that even Ken himself is incapable of getting himself out of the emotional abyss he’s in.

And on the flip side, one of the biggest “tells” that Ken is still miserable during all of this is 02 episode 9, where he’s seen ruminating on the “glory” he’s getting in the real world despite having just decided to leave it all behind. The episode prior, after all, had been called “The Digimon Kaiser’s Loneliness”. The media is using him like some kind of “hot topic”, his parents’ affection (in his mind) is shallow and based only on his achievements, and he has no friends (how much of a role Akiyama Ryou played in his childhood is unclear, but either way, he’s no longer around now). With no emotional support coming from any direction in the real world, he’s resorting to at least trying to have some “fun” in what he perceives to be a “game”, and yet he’s still not having fun at all.

If you look carefully at a lot of the Kaiser’s actions during the first half of the series, one thing you’ll notice is that there are multiple indications that he’s not quite up to par to being as sadistic as you’d think he’d be. Recalling that we learn in 02 episodes 20-21 that the Kaiser is under the impression that the Digital World is like a game that he can “reset” and the Digimon in it not real living beings, it has interesting implications of the fact that he’s actually very hesitant to physically harm other human beings -- he certainly likes emotionally toying with them, but even when he’s trying to take petty revenge on Daisuke in 02 episode 8, he goes out of his way to set up a trap with Bakemon to torture him rather than, well, actually using the kids as hostages. That’s a hell of a lot of work to do, but he instead uses this extremely roundabout way to get them out of the picture in a somewhat less harmful way, risking having them escape (which is exactly what happens).

And in 02 episode 19, when Takeru confronts him and he ends up whipping him, you can hear a slight “...gh?” in the Japanese audio for a split second right after that, meaning that the Kaiser is, for some reason, having a hard time dealing with the fact that he just hit Takeru, and he does a very poor job defending himself against Takeru punching him out despite ostensibly being trained in judo. (Seriously, if you watch the animation of the scene, he’s just lying there while Takeru repeatedly punches the hell out of him, because he’s so out of it.) Regarding the Digimon, he’s convinced himself that they’re not living beings, but regarding the human Chosen Children, who undeniably are, no matter how much he might look down on them, he has a suspiciously hard time harming them as much as he could...

On top of that, one interesting question that might come up to one rewatching the first half of 02 is the strange “contradiction” of why the Kaiser ostensibly seems to hate Wormmon so much, calling him an unworthy idea of a partner in 02 episodes 10 and 19, and yet does remarkably little to get Wormmon away from him or off his case (he hates Wormmon calling him “Ken-chan”, yet doesn’t really try very hard to stop him). He could have easily locked Wormmon away in a cage or something if he really wanted to -- actually, there’s the question, why doesn’t he slap an Evil Ring on him? Because in the end, Wormmon is the only emotional support he’s really getting, and so it’s likely he unconsciously doesn’t want to lose that. Recalling that Digimon are fundamentally linked to the inner self, the Kaiser rejecting Wormmon for being “weak” is analogous to Ken rejecting his own self for being “weak” and “not perfect” -- which means that the fact he still keeps Wormmon around is analogous to the fact that Ken hasn’t really been able to bring himself to completely let his fundamental nature go. And, hence, it’s why he gets so initially incensed at Wormmon’s “betrayal” at 02 episode 10 (and yet still keeps him around despite that), and is ultimately emotionally destroyed by his death in 02 episode 21.

Although, actually, if you look carefully at 02 episode 21, it’s not quite Wormmon’s death that necessarily does it -- the turning point where he sheds the Kaiser persona is right before that (and in case you have any doubts, the animation puts highlights in his eyes for the first time in the series right at that point). Wormmon’s death is the first major consequence of his actions that he has to deal with, but what actually brought Ken back to his senses was his own realization that Digimon are living beings, that his actions have had permanent effects this whole time, and that he can’t take back anything he’d done.

Remember that 02 is a series that is largely about moving on and accepting that you can’t change the past, and that you have to move forward regardless of that. Ken’s fall into sadism was only possible by driving him into extremely deep-seated denial -- he was already starting to face the potential reality of Digimon being real, existing beings in the real world an episode prior. He says, outright, in 02 episode 21, that part of the reason he came to the Digital World to do all of this was escapism -- and, presumably, under the idea that any mistake he made could be rolled back and redone, unlike Osamu’s death. But the Digital World is not a place you can reset like a game, Ken will have to live with the consequences of his actions again, and moreover, every single one of the actions he’d been convincing himself were relatively meaningless had caused severe and permanent harm, and the entire thing overwhelms him.

It’s also important to point out that this was probably where the Dark Seed had to work a lot of magic to get Ken to embrace this kind of denial so easily -- after all, it’s established in the final quarter of the series that it does have a tangible impact on personality and puts a damper on one’s ability to feel empathy. In the flashback in 02 episode 23, regardless of whether Ken considered the Digital World to be a “game” or “able to be reversed” or not, he clearly still didn’t care and treated those around him with proper kindness (even if he did consider it to be all of that, it probably wouldn’t have been entirely unlike how a lot of us have a hard time picking rude choices in video games). It’s a very complicated chain reaction of events that allowed this to be even possible, and it was so against his fundamental nature that once the denial broke and Ken reached his limit, he wasn’t able to do it anymore. The Chosen Children’s main role in 02 episode 21 was really just cleaning up the massive mess he’d made in the form of Chimeramon, but as far as the whole thing about the Kaiser’s persona completely falling apart and Ken being forced to confront his own self goes, that was pretty much all Ken and Wormmon, in a series of dominoes that had already been collapsing for episodes on end.

The following episodes have Ken treat the 02 team with a certain amount of detachment, and this is often construed by a handful of people as being reflective of Ken being standoffish of some sort. The fact that Daisuke and Ken are often promoted in franchise materials as “rivals” mainly due to them being in the “protagonist and right-hand-man” position such characters are in might tempt you to think that way, but they are most definitely not!! (Considering that even saying that Taichi and Yamato fit that mold is a bit questionable, and neither Ruki nor Jian quite fulfill the expectations of the role in regards to the genre-subverting Tamers, Frontier, which is explicitly said to be deliberately written to be conventional, is probably the first proper execution of this trope in the form of Takuya and Kouji.) Ken’s detachment from the group at this time in the series is something he actually gives the reason for quite directly: he believes it’s his fault and doesn’t want to burden them with what he considers to be his job, and in the end Daisuke ultimately breaks through to him and they become completely normal friends who get along. “Rival” what?

Ken is, at worst, distant during this point of the series, but he’s actually very straightforward about what he wants and intends to do; it’s just that he’s being a bit blunt about it because he’s still drowning in his shame and not sure how to approach them. (Also, consider the fact he was rather lacking in friends or a support group before all of this; he doesn’t have a lot of experience in socializing, either.) So he keeps everyone at arm’s length, and the reason he comes off as so standoffish is because he’s so assertive! He directly and bluntly makes some very strong remarks about how he believes everyone else shouldn’t be getting involved! Again, when left to his own devices and not being manipulated into by a supernatural evil seed into multiple levels of denial, Ken is very in control of what he wants and thinks, and is even very open about speaking his mind.

That’s even when they’re not good decisions, mind you. Ken starts off the climax of 02 episode 26 being very firm about wanting to suicidally throw himself into the reactor in order to stop it, and 02 episode 30 has him consider himself a burden to the team after the fallout with Iori and try to stay out of it despite them very badly needing his presence, which Daisuke (of all people!) rightfully calls him out for being childish about. But he also listens to reason very quickly and acknowledges the others’ point very easily, with Daisuke reminding him in 02 episode 26 that his suicidal recklessness is actually pretty self-centered and short-sighted of him, since it’ll prevent him from doing anything else to take responsibility for his actions going forward, and Miyako, uh, slapping him in 02 episode 30. (But he comes quietly right away as if acknowledging his own idiocy, and never holds it against her thereafter.)

Nevertheless, the point is: you can see that this kind of assertiveness is the same kind of assertiveness he had as the Kaiser, just channeled in a different direction and for a different purpose. But as the Kaiser, he was angrily lashing out at anything and everything and stepping on anything he could just so he could have a show of power; once he comes back to his senses, he reserves that force for it being something he consciously believes is the right thing to do (regardless of whether it’s actually the right thing to do or not).

Because of the fact Ken spends a lot of the last quarter of 02 suffering and parsing a lot of trauma, a lot of people have tended to pin him as constantly sad and being a soft crybaby, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! Despite all the emotional pain he goes through, Ken has a hell of a ton of strength through all of this -- he even flings a well-aimed quip at Oikawa in 02 episode 44 despite being in a completely helpless situation, and in 02 episode 45 he himself is the one who volunteers to open the gate to the Dark Ocean, despite knowing exactly what it entails. That takes a lot of guts, and all things considered, his recovery from being the Kaiser spans only four months and is altogether incredibly fast given what he went through -- it did not take long for him to regain his bearings and get himself back on track. Again, it’s the same kind of “assertiveness” and capacity for action that fuels what the Kaiser did, just better controlled and in a direction Ken knows he actually wants.

This is also why I tend to object to insinuations that Ken would be overly touchy about or traumatized by the mere discussion of him being the Kaiser in the aftermath of 02, because the series itself, multiple times, portrayed him as being very able to talk about his experiences bluntly and honestly, at worst maybe considering it a bit of an awkward topic. He has no problems admitting that it was a thing that happened, especially if it involves discussing it as part of taking responsibility or preventing further damage -- it’s just that he of course doesn’t enjoy it either, and is equally as open about the shame he feels as a result. All of the times Ken loses his composure in the latter half of 02 involve either physical pain being inflicted on him, or a lot more actively vicious invocation of his memories and insecurities, and even then he gets himself back on his feet with a rather prompt amount of speed. Poorly timed of a statement as it may have been, Miyako is not incorrect when she says in 02 episode 31 that he has a certain amount of natural resilience that he carried from being the Kaiser.

All the way back in 02 episode 9, shortly after it was revealed to the group that Ken was the Kaiser, Iori, Hikari, and Takeru all label Ken as someone who doesn’t look like someone who could do something so horrible, and Hikari even says that his smile looks “gentle” (note that this is yasashisou, a word derived from the same root word used for his Crest). So in other words, even all three of them were able to catch on to his actual nature betraying himself even during that awful period of time. It’s still poking through, all things considered.

But we as the audience know he’s putting on that face for the camera, and his eyes are still as dead-eyed as they are for the first half of the series, and when Miyako accidentally makes him laugh during the Christmas party in 02 episode 38, it’s very much framed as probably the first time Ken has been this genuinely happy in a long while. He was never able to be this happy even when “satisfying” himself by stepping on others as the Kaiser.

And that’s why it’s so extremely unlikely that Ken will ever be able to lapse back into the Kaiser persona after the events of 02, even with the Dark Seed technically still inside his neck. He wasn’t enjoying it anyway; the Kaiser persona wasn’t a habit that he fell into out of emotional suppression or even catharsis, but rather him forcing himself into a role he was never comfortable in to begin with. He was never truly satisfied with anything he was getting out of it, and moreover, it took the combination of supernatural influence and a hell of a lot of denial to allow it to get that far in the first place, because of how far against his fundamental nature that was.  (Again, for those of you who have seen Appmon: think about what it would take to get Haru to embrace sadism.) Even Osamu wasn’t enjoying being cold; being kind and living your life with positivity is a lot more fulfilling and fun, anyway.

In 02 episode 48, Ken describes the influence of the Seed as “horrible” in retrospect; even if it didn’t involve physical pain and exhaustion the way it did for the Dark Seed children, the entire experience sucked even back then. And while Ken theorizes about the Dark Seed’s influence being countered by the power of love earlier in the episode, when you look at the whole of 02, it’s not just his family’s love -- Ken now has the emotional support of his family, and Wormmon, and his newfound friends, and that’s giving him all of the fulfillment he wanted that putting on a front of sadism wasn’t giving him, and he doesn’t really need anything else anymore.

02 itself is very much about the fact that it’s not a bad thing to rely on the support of others to be happy; the Ken and Kaiser are undoubtedly the same person, but the latter’s existence requires a very specific lineup of events and factors to happen, and one of the massive parts behind that was a severe lack of emotional support or anyone who properly understood him. And by the end of the series, Ken has more than enough strength of heart to accept everything that’s happened and move on, and to stop reaching out to denial and clinging onto the past, and he has emotional support and understanding from a whole new group of friends that thoroughly understand everything he did and went through, and wholeheartedly accept and love him anyway.

He is never going to have a gaping hole in his life like that again.

[meimi-haneoka]

Akiho Shinomoto - a manifesto of love

Despite becoming one of my favorite characters in the whole Cardcaptor Sakura franchise (and I would’ve never expected to love a new character this much), I realized I’ve never spent a long post for her, like the ones I did for SyaoSaku or for Tomoyo and Syaoran long time ago.

And there’s a lot to say, because Akiho Shinomoto is actually the first character who has introduced the concepts of evil and child abuse in Cardcaptor Sakura.

Something that wasn’t even remotely conceivable until (almost) 5 years ago.

Often considered boring and weak from the CCS fandom, Akiho actually harbors an immense strength inside of her, which goes mostly unnoticed to everyone, in-story friends included. Let’s see why.

Sentenced to death, for lack of magical powers

Once upon a time, a baby girl was born in a clan of powerful magicians, the most ancient of Europe. Clan members seemed happy and curious about the new entry to the family. They had great expectations about what magic she would develop, as everyone else in that family. At the ripe old age of 1 year and a half / 2 years, the baby girl was expected to show some signs of magic, but she had none. But hey, maybe she would become powerful later, let's pat her head and wait patiently. At that time, the Clan still showed some kind of "attention" for her.

But by the time the girl was around 6/7 years old, no fragment of magic appeared in her. Unacceptable. She's the daughter of two top rank magicians, in a clan of magic prodigies. Yet, she showed none of those gifts. They kept comparing her with some boy, living in a far away country, part of another famous magical clan. The girl suddenly held no more interest for her Clan. They actually started seeing her as a stain on their Clan's pride. Suddenly, the focus was all on how they could surpass the other rival clan. The girl was left all alone. A magicless member of the family is a member who doesn't even deserve being talked to. An interrogatory, at most. Who cares if the little girl wants to socialize, if she wants to play, if she's the only young person in that Clan, already without her parents who died so early on? The only thing this girl was good at was reading books, so all that's she's allowed to do. Not even playing with stuffed animals. For some reason, she's allowed to keep only ONE plushie, which is basically everything to her. But books and dolls can't fill that sinkhole she's already feeling at such young age.

Obsessed with this "anomaly", when she was about 2 years old, the Clan had the baby girl examined by a member of a Magic Association in England, known to be the den of shady magicians. A 8/9 year old bored magic genius, named “Yuna D.”, was her examiner. The boy said "She's like a blank book". The girl grew up, and the situation was still the same. The disapproving stares of her relatives cut the little girl’s heart like a sharp knife. They called her “worthless”, “useless”. They even doubted she could really be the daughter of her powerful parents. So what should they have done? Let the little girl live her life like any other regular human being, or taking literally the words of a BORED, EMOTIONALLY UNDEVELOPED CHILD who literally spat out the first thing that came to his mind?

Although the choice should’ve come easily for any normal human being with a functioning brain, they actually went in the other direction, greedy for power. And so, they decided to treat the girl like a tool, using her to store all kinds of magic for them to use. If she couldn’t be of any help to her clan with her capabilities, they would give her a purpose.

On some kind of altar, halfway between a lab rat and the sacrificing ritual of a sect, the most ancient Magicians of Europe together with the Magic Association performed a dangerous magic on her, which afterwards would take its toll even on the casters: they turned her into a magical artifact, capable of engraving in herself all the magical books she would encounter, transforming her de facto into a book herself. As if this wasn’t horrifying enough, this spell will progressively try to crush her soul and conscience, until it gets destroyed completely. So when the artifact will reach its limit, it will be the death of her, as a human being. Only a shell of her will remain. And judging by what was said later on in the story, they actually hope for her to lose her consciousness completely, so they can make use of her more easily.

Afterwards, they burned the book they took the ritual from, so the procedure would remain in their knowledge only. Greedy till the very last drop.

Once their perfect magical tool was achieved, turning a little girl into some sort of artifact, both the Clan and their accomplices couldn't stop bragging about it. The only positive words Akiho has ever received in her life by her people were after she was turned into a tool.

With a newly found purpose for that stain on their clan’s pride, they sent her away into the world to collect all the magic books she could find and write their powers into her, even though she was still just a child. For reasons still unknown, Yuna D., the boy who involuntarily caused this horrible ritual to happen and basically condemned her to death, offers himself to accompany her. The very first decision he took in his own life. That decision will change forever the course of their life, for both of them.

Rising from the ashes, towards a future of hope

Rehashing Akiho’s past is important to understand her personality and behavior fully. CLAMP, in the Clear Card manga, have portrayed the story of her past in a very peculiar way: it starts as any other fairytale, with light tones and cute designs. But as the story progresses, and the horror ensues, the tone of the tale changes, and so the drawing style too. It becomes serious, and “realistic” (ad opposed to the initial cutesy style). What started as a possible generic fairytale, turned into a real nightmare.

On top of being deprived of the love of her parents ever since she was born, because apparently they died right after, Akiho spent her early childhood in complete solitude. Those magicians who were supposed to be her remaining family were too absorbed into their own greed for power, to consider the needs of a baby girl. Not to mention that they had some kind of disgust for her, for being magicless. She was denied attention, cuddles, conversations, play activities, toys. She was denied love and care. All basic things that contribute to shape the personality and psychology of a person. Akiho grew up with the conviction that she wasn’t worth any of that, because no one gave it to her. One of the complaints I have seen the most about her in the fandom, is how she’s always so apologetic, to the point of becoming obnoxious. If you think about it, one of the most prominent characteristics of her personality is how she continuously apologizes to people, thanks them for any smallest thing, and is always, constantly seeking validation. 

But if you stop for a second to think about her past, you’ll realize with dismay that those are none other than symptoms of the abuse she suffered in the past. She was called “good for nothing” and “useless” by her clan and the Magic Association, and those words carved themselves into her heart, forever scarring it. Akiho grew up believing that she was really worthless and good for nothing just because she couldn’t meet the expectations of her clan, and it’s apparent when we see her considering herself “extremely clumsy”, even though we have afterwards seen that she’s perfectly capable of cooking, sewing, even playing sports. She only needs the dedication of someone who would teach her that.

With a disastrous psychological situation like this, one would naturally wonder how this girl didn’t commit anything extreme yet. Completely alone in the world, deemed useless. Unloved.

Books, books were her first lifeline. The fictional, magical, wonderful worlds depicted in those stories saved her sanity, making her dream about a better life, about friendship, about love. They taught her everything. They gave her the hope that those things existed out there, and maybe one day she would be blessed with them too. The fantastical characters kept her company when no one was there for her (yet). And she loves them viscerally for that, to the point of seeing herself mending damaged books in the future, as a possible occupation. Just like they mended her lacerated heart.

The second lifeline was her meeting with Kaito. Uncharacteristically to him, Kaito showed immediately a kind and interested behavior towards her. This was so shocking, so incredible that Akiho’s first reaction to his introduction was to run away. No one ever addressed her with the intention of having a conversation. No one was ever interested in what she was reading. Even just by this you can get a glimpse of how miserable her life had been till then. Full of psychological issues himself, thanks to the human connection Kaito gradually turned his attentions towards Akiho from contrieved mannerism, to genuine and sincere gestures. Akiho can feel that affection, even if her self-criticism always pushes her to believe that she’s nothing more than “job” to him. It’s something small, but what she’s experiencing with Kaito is her everything, and more than she’s ever had.

The third lifeline is Momo: Akiho doesn’t know, nor remotely imagines she’s actually a living magical creature. But she has been her constant presence ever since she was born. Her connection to her is special, and you can see it in their daily (one-sided, for now) interactions. Akiho talks to Momo, she greets her when she comes back home, she constantly carries her around, she thinks about giving her a little dress as a present. Momo is Akiho’s strength. The love this girl pours into what she believes is just a stuffed animal is incredible. It goes to show Akiho’s immense capacity to love something/someone without expecting anything in return, but actually just enjoying the simple presence and courage they give to her. If you think about it, it’s the very opposite of what she experienced with the only human interactions she’s ever had before Kaito came into the picture. Her aptitude to selfless love is also remarked between the lines in chapter 49, when Akiho is telling Sakura about her relationship with Kaito. Despite all the ugliness she went through, she’s still able to find in herself the strength to overcome all of it, and change her life for the better.

This certainly hasn’t been an easy or quick process, because in the flashbacks of her journey with Kaito we always see her with a pensive/serious look. It must have been extremely hard to start trusting others, when she had no one she could count on in her own home.

Akiho’s capacity to love and rise from the ashes of her terrible past has been so contagious, that it has started to affect Kaito too.  As Momo said in chapter 51, once you’re given the reason to change, no person can ever stay the same. This must have been true for Kaito, but certainly for Akiho too.

I’m absolutely positive that Akiho (and possibly, Kaito too) will be the symbol for one of the most important, beautiful messages in the whole Clear Card Arc: even if your life isn’t perfect, even if your past scarred you in multiple ways, there’s always hope. Hope to turn over a new leaf and change yourself for the better too, in the process. Overcome everything that had you stuck in pain and grief. Achieve what you always wished for.

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

.

Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chapter 5

A/N: Hi everyone, next chapter here. Back to Seth. You might recognize some bits from a Knox & Seth bonding fic I posted some months ago, but it’s different in the story and I still really like it. Enjoy!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 5: Agitated

Have to take care of the sanctuary. Have to take care of the sanctuary. Have to take care of the sanctuary.

Seth’s mantra had stopped meaning anything ten minutes ago, but mantras were all about repetition, right? Maybe if he said it enough times, he would actually believe it. Because what he wanted, what he needed to be doing, was going after Kendra. And he was pacing at the top of Seth Tower to keep himself from doing something reckless without a plan. He could feel the elements of a plan buzzing in his head, and his last couple hadn’t turned out too badly. If only he could put them all together. It had been twelveish hours since they lost Kendra, he needed to get it together soon.

They had dealt Celebrant three deliberate blows: claiming their staff (complete with Kendra telling him off and Seth rebuilding the Keep), having the Somber Knight survive striking him in his own castle after taking away his title of caretaker (Wonder how the dragonslayer was doing? Probably suffering), and finally, denying him the Wizenstone. If the dragon king was smart, he’d take some time to lick his wounds.

Which meant Seth wasn’t needed here. 

He didn’t have enough proof for his grandparents, but he knew Ronodin was behind Kendra’s kidnapping. It didn’t matter that the Sphinx was likely the one who took the barrel at Fablehaven, only Ronodin knew Kendra had lost her memory. Kendra was more vulnerable than she had ever been, fairykind or not, and Seth couldn’t watch over some butt-hurt dragons when his sister needed him.

If Seth had been the one kidnapped, Kendra would never give up on him. But she wouldn’t abandon her duty as caretaker either. What could he do? What would she do?

A red-maned dragon reared its head over the inside walls of the keep, and Seth’s muscles seized into place.

“I’ve come to alert you about a message from Stormguard,” Marat said. “It is addressed to the Caretaker, and your grandparents are waiting for you to open it.”

He couldn’t be the caretaker, not alone, not if he still seized up like this. It was ridiculous. When he first encountered dragons, he didn’t feel scared, but his mind was mesmerized by the dragon, and he couldn’t think. Kendra cleared up his head, he cleared up her fear, and together they were a single dragon tamer. Since then, even without Kendra, he got to the point where he could keep his thoughts clear, and he wasn’t scared, but it was like his body wasn’t getting the memo.

“You have to get past this Seth,” Marat said, shaking his head.

He couldn’t be caretaker, not without his sister. He was the only caretaker; he couldn’t leave to find his sister.

Seth was the only caretaker.

Celebrant didn’t have a veto anymore. He could give the job to someone else, and go after his sister. Marat started to move away, but he needed to know now. He was one answer away from being able to go after Kendra.  

Inside his chest, he felt surge of control spread over his muscles “Marat, wait!” Seth said, and something settled over him, something that made him stand a little taller. Marat turned back, and drew his head closer, curiously. Seth grinned, “I’m the last Caretaker. Celebrant was stripped of his title. The treaty is back to its foundations. Can I turn being caretaker back over to you, and go after Kendra?”

“Well done Seth,” Marat said, then took a moment to think over Seth’s plan. “I do believe that is possible. The provisions of Celebrant’s veto were very specific to the amendment making him co-caretaker. Agad will be arriving soon, we will ask for his advice, but I see nothing wrong with that plan at present.”

Marat shapeshifted back into a human, alighting on the rampart beside him, “A shame that your loyalties take you elsewhere the moment you become a full dragon tamer,” Marat said casually.

“I did it?” Seth asked, “I did!”

“Yes, it seems your sister being in danger was enough for you to push past the final effects, just as the threat of Celebrant to your family was enough for Kendra.”

“Marat,” Seth said, “I know things are a mess, would you be able to keep things under control on your own?”

“Let’s see,” Marat said, holding up a hand, counting off his fingers, “You have already dealt with the Dragon Feast. There will not be another festival night for a quarter year. We have the staff and the amulet. The curse on Stormguard is lifted, and more Fair Folk generally heralds greater opportunities for peace. Celebrant will not be happy, nor will he give up his machinations. However, I do believe I would be able to manage.”

“You can call me back, in case you need any of my specific…expertise,” Seth grinned, and Marat smiled wryly. They both remembered how reluctant literally everyone was to give him the job. With Kendra missing, the risks were really nailed home, but no one could doubt their skill at keeping preserves functioning. First Fablehaven was the only one of the five secret preserves to hold itself together, and now Wrymroost, against the King of Dragons himself, was functioning better than ever.

“I believe I will try to reserve your assistance for true emergencies,” Marat said drily.

“Let’s keep our plan quiet,” Seth said, quietly, “At least until Agad tells us if we can do it and how. I know the staff was safe when we got here, but things have changed pretty quickly.”

Marat nodded, and they entered the interior of the keep. They approached their…War Room? To be honest, he hasn’t spent nearly enough time at his Castle to learn all the stuffy old names for everything. The room with lots of maps and chests. Since he was going to give up caretaking this place, this might be the last chance to name them himself.

Marat opened the door for him, and Seth walked in, shoulders squared.

“All right, I see everyone has gathered in the War Room. What have we got?”

Grandpa and Hendrick held back sniggers, Grandma rolled her eyes, Newel gave him a thumbs up. Grandma held out the letter.

Seth took it, cracked open the old-timey wax seal, and pulled out two pieces of paper. The first one had letters that were so old-timey they were basically illegible. He wasn’t even sure it was English. The second letter was written by Tanu.

Dear Sorenson’s,

We are safe. We have rested and celebrated the restoration of Stormguard Castle, and updated them as much as we could on the current status of the rest of the world. Knox was unfortunately blunt, and they will be holding with their neutrality. They are giving us a ride to Blackwell keep by flying carriage, don’t panic when we arrive. We look forward to understanding what occurred after you were separated from Lomo.

Regards,

Tanu.

Seth let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t thought his friends were in danger based on Lockland and the Fair Folk’s general determination to stay as far away as possible from anything remotely interesting, but it was good to hear all the same.

“It’s fine. Stormguard is sending a carriage with Tanu and Knox. They already took him out of the quiet box it seems, and the first thing he did was stick his foot in his mouth,” Seth looked around him, “Any possible allies in Quiet Boxes here?”

“Oh, don’t you act like you didn’t mouth off to the Fair Folk about their neutrality the first chance you got,” Grandma said, as Seth handed her the letters. “And we are not sticking Knox in another quiet box. It’s not healthy for a growing child.”

Seth gave a put-upon sigh, “All right, fine. We’ll find somewhere to put him. Isn’t it a little dangerous to go flying around right now?”

Marat shook his head, “One of the benefits of the neutrality you so casually mock is that the carriage of Stormguard has full immunity for diplomatic missions under the treaty. They have as many, if not more, protection on their journey than we do at the castle.”

“Safe transport is a boon that should not be taken lightly,” Grandma Sorensen said, “Knox has already likely ruffled feathers, but they owe Seth and Kendra much for freeing them. Debts hold with Fair Folk like they do everyone else in this world, though their aid is limited in scope. Everyone on their best behavior. The official letter says much of the same”

Seth made a face, but didn’t argue because she was probably right.

An hour later everyone was gathered in the courtyard as the Carriage landed lightly in front of them. It didn’t even kick up dust. Never leaving a mark, just like the people that owned it.

Knox, Tanu, and Lockland exited the carriage.

“Glad to see you guys,” Seth said, giving Tanu a hug and punching Knox on the shoulder.

“I’m afraid we don’t come with good news. While everything is fine at Stormguard, we stopped off at Terrebelle to retrieve Tess and Doren,” Tanu said, “They weren’t there and no one knows where they went. Lord Dagorel’s daughter was missing as well.”

Well, that was rude of them. Who did they think they were? Wandering around a dangerous preserve like Wyrmroost the day after a festival night and in the middle of a dragon war? Now he was going to have to track them down himself and make sure no one gets eaten. How irresponsible — Oh no, Seth was turning into Grandpa.

“They have the cloak of innocence,” Knox assured them, “So they’re safer than us. But we should still find them.”

Seth rubbed his forehead, “Great. Yeah, we’ll get Henrick on it, see if we can track them down. And whatever else we can do. I’m guessing you guys want Eve back at Terrebelle too?”

“Lord Dagorel would appreciate your consideration,” Lockland said with a bow. Well that was a little much, Seth wasn’t going to be the one giving the order to send Eve anywhere. She could do what she wanted, as far as he was concerned, it was Tess that didn’t know anything about this world he didn’t want wandering around. Probably better not to mention that.

Lockland came up from his bow.

“Hey, none of that.” Seth said, giving a tired smile, Lockland was one of the better Fair Folk after all, “Thanks for helping back there. We literally could not have done it without you.”

Lockland shook his head, “Your sister is the heroine, towards the end the only help I could give was that of one mindless puppet not trying to capture her,” he looked around, “Where is she? I’d like to know that she’s alright for myself if that’s okay.”

Seth’s throat grew thick, but no tears came. He’d cried himself out that morning before Grandma passed him one of Tanu’s calming potions, finally allowing him to get some sleep.

“Kendra…lost her memory,” Seth said, looking at the ground, not at the horrified faces in front of him.

“The key of forgetting,” Lockland said. It must have been mentioned in one of the riddles that he heard. “Seth, I’m so sorry —”

“What the heck Seth Breath?” Knox said, “You’re supposed to protect your sister!”

“I have the authority to send you to the dungeons,” Seth threatened back, “I know what I was supposed to do, but she stole the key from me and wouldn’t listen.”

“Can I still see her?” Lockland asked, “I don’t have to talk to her, just make sure that she’s okay. I feel terrible about not being able to do more before you guys came.”

“Sorry,” Seth said tightly, more than ready to shift the blame to the Fair Folk, but Grandma’s warning made him pull back, “But that privilege is reserved for allies and friends, not neutral diplomats. I only told you about her memory because Celebrant already knows what happened and you helped us. You aren’t getting any more information from me until I know you won’t give it up to the dragons for a perfectly neutral reason.”

Lockland flinched back. He had spent the past several hundred years as a human in a competition, it had probably been a while since he’d dealt with the drawbacks of neutrality. If he had ever dealt with it before. After meeting the royal children of Stormguard, Seth wouldn’t be surprised if their parents kept them under lock and key and only taught them untested morality anyway.

“Seth,” Grandma Ruth hissed. She turned to Lockland, “I would like to apologize for the Caretaker’s current temperament. The loss of his sister’s memory, due in part the schemes of Celebrant and Ronodin, is still a fresh blow. Thank you for returning our friends to us.”

Subdued, Lockland nodded, “I also came to inquire about what happened to my brother Tregain. As you are mourning the loss of your sister’s memories, surely you won’t begrudge me knowing the fate of my brother. Enemies though we were, he is family.”

Seth felt a pang then. He wasn’t being fair. It wasn’t like Lockland hadn’t suffered under the curse. And with a memory-less Kendra captured by Ronodin, Seth might be fighting his sibling in the future. Oh God, he might have to fight Kendra.

He shoved those thoughts aside, he needed to get through this, “Tregain died, so did Obregon. There was a final trap for the Wizenstone, anyone who touched it…turned to ash. The only thing I could do was send the stone away with the Rod of Banishment. It was…it was never winnable in the first place.”

Lockland was still and silent, then he nodded. “We were playing a dangerous game with the greatest prize. That those two were the only deaths is…nicer, than what other competitions for magical items are like. The business of the Fair Folk is concluded. Farewell, Caretaker Seth Sorenson.”

Lockland stepped back into the carriage, but before closing the door, turned back to Seth, “I know what we all have to do in war, but believe me when I say I can never thank you and your sister enough for ending the curse. I hope you succeed, and I hope for your safety. If Kendra is willing to give up her place in the war, now that she has no memory of what she is fighting for or how to fight, she will be welcome at Stormguard to wait in neutrality as others take her place in your battle.”

Seth didn’t know what to say. No witty comebacks, no apologies, nothing came to mind.

“Thank you for this extension, we will consider it and offer it to her when we see her next,” Grandpa Sorenson said with a bow, “Please return with the knowledge that Blackwell Keep rejoices in the freedom of you and your people.”

Lockland nodded, acknowledging Grandpa’s words, and closed the door. The carriage took off.

Grandma put a hand to her head. “Seth, I am terrified to know what you said when you and Kendra visited Terrebelle.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Calvin’s voice piped up from Tanu’s pocket, “Lord Dalgorel’s children were quite accommodating and understanding. Kendra did most of the talking.” Tanu lifted the nipsie out of his pocket and handed Calvin to Seth.

“Calvin, we left you with Patton!” Seth said.

“As soon as dawn hit, I went to test the barriers and found them undone,” Calvin said, “Patton will be making his way back with the flying mounts soon.”

“Forgive me,” Tanu said slowly, “But if Kendra truly has lost her memory, letting her claim sanctuary with the Fair Folk sounds like a good temporary measure. Her abilities are extraordinary, and easy to be misused and misguided.”

“Come inside,” Grandma said, “We have to catch each other up.”

“Hey, I’m sorry for snapping at you about Kendra,” Knox said, walking beside Seth, “I know both of you, and Kendra’s stubborn as a rock. And its not like I did any better protecting Tess from danger.”

“I would say sorry for threatening to put you in the dungeon,” Seth replied, “But I’m not. You’re making me realize just how much Grandma and Grandpa were trying to protect me when I first learned about this stuff, it sucks.”

“I bet Kendra was always trying to protect you too,” Knox said, “How long do you think it will be before she’s back at that? At least she doesn’t have the grounds to nag you when she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Shut up,” Seth said, slamming the keep door shut. “I don’t know. I don’t know if she’ll ever talk to us again. I don’t know if the next time she sees me, she’ll try to kill me. Ronodin kidnapped her, and she is somewhere, right now, being convinced that she’s Ronodin’s girlfriend and would do absolutely anything for him.”

“Did I hear right?” Tanu asked, turning back. Grandma sighed.

“Yes, and I think we could all use some tea right about now.”

Seth glared at his teacup while his grandparents caught everyone up. Newel had gotten the task of brewing, snagged on their way back to the War Room, and he was sure Newel slipped a little bit extra in for the adults. Seth knew, because they had caught eyes as he was about to slip something from an unidentified bottle into Knox’s tea, and Seth shook his head.

“Agad will be here in the morning, to follow up on what leads he can,” Grandpa finished.

“I’m telling you, it was Ronodin,” Seth said, “The sleezy jerk was all over Kendra, trying to make her blush and calling her ‘Love’. It’s going to be Gavin all over again.”

“Then perhaps you can take some faith,” Tanu said gently, “Kendra’s heart is good, and her abilities meant to help and heal. Our enemies will have a long ways to go to convince her to do harm. And do not forget who else Ronodin is holding captive.”

Seth blinked, then smiled, “Bracken. If anyone can convince her that she’s better than that jerk, its him.” Seth turned to Knox, remembering that Knox didn’t know who Bracken was, and saw his cousin staring into his cooled cup of tea. Seth nudged him with his shoulder, “Hey, no spacing out in the War Room. Bracken is Kendra’s unicorn boyfriend. They’ve done the prison spree thing before. It only took them five-ish hours, I think. It will probably take a little longer with Kendra’s memory gone, and we’ll have to give them a hand, but that’s good news. As good as it gets anyway.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m a little off, I think I’m going to get some air,” Knox said, putting down his teacup. He left the room, heading inward instead of towards the outside.

“Did something happen at Stormguard after they let him out?” he asked Tanu, frowning after his cousin.

Tanu shook his head, paused then said, “A pretty girl was invited to dine with him. Like most young folk, he couldn’t resist the urge to brag about what appeared to be an unconditional win. Between understanding that it was not the win he thought it was, and likely feeling remaining guilt over the stolen barrel. I believe, given time, he will work through his problems.”

“He likely also thinks that you blame him,” Grandpa Sorensen said, “Please try to keep your temper. You are in charge here, and your attitudes and temperaments affect everyone. The situation with Kendra is bleak, and you must hold together.”

“In better news,” Marat said, “Seth has managed to conquer the last hold of Dragon fear. I found him as a dragon, and he spoke to me clearly.”

Grandma brightened, “Oh, that’s wonderful Seth.”

“It feels kind of an empty victory,” Seth admitted.

Grandpa smiled, “One more dragon tamer in the world is a victory all the same.”

Seth looked around, “When was Henrick supposed to be back?” Maybe the Alcetaur would have something for him to do to whittle the hours until Agad showed up. There wasn’t anything they could do from their end except guard the barrel.

“He’ll be back in the morning,” Grandma said. “I know it’s frustrating, but the wait is short.”

“What if we tried to establish communication through the barrel?” Seth asked, the idea popping into his head.

Everyone blinked at him. “It’s a shared space, right? Coulter showed us how it worked with coins and tin cans,” Seth said, “It doesn’t just move people. If we put in a letter, asking for Ronodin to tell us what he wants in exchange for Kendra, maybe we can work out a trade.”

“Classic,” Newel said, “All the crime shows agree, the first thing you do with a kidnapper is keep them talking. Then you do a little give, a little take, until you’re negotiating for the right stuff. Once they trust you, Bam! Hit them where it hurts.”

Grandma and Grandpa shared a look, “It wouldn’t hurt.” Grandma said. “It will let us track activity with the barrel, if nothing else.”

“I’d feel better waiting until we have Agad’s approval,” Grandpa replied, “But I can’t see any harm, and the longer Kendra is in their grasp, the worse it will be. Could you write the letter?”

Grandma nodded, standing up. “Just to explain that we are open to negotiating for the return of Kendra. Hopefully their reply will contain clues as to where they are, even if they ask for something we can’t give.”

“I have a feeling we will not get peace enough to brew for a while yet,” Tanu said, returning his teacup to the tray, “And my ingredients are most potent fresh. We slept a while before the celebration at Stormguard, I will be brewing in my room, if you need me.”

They both left. “That was a smart idea, Seth,” Grandpa Sorenson said. Seth slumped, “Yeah, but there still isn’t anything I can do.”

“I have the feeling you’ll have the chance to do plenty,” Grandpa said, “Tess and Doren are still at Terrebelle. Agad is coming. If you like, we can do something active. How about a sword-fighting lesson? See if these old bones remember anything.”

He let Grandpa get him into a sword fighting lesson. He didn’t use Tregain’s sword, as the goal was to be seen and fight, and instead practiced as many moves as he could remember Warren and Vanessa teaching him. Grandpa showed him a few as well, from back when he learned.

Grandpa was much more of the “best way to win was never be hit, and you don’t get hit if you’re never there” camp. Instead of Warren and Vanessa’s focus on attacking, counter attacking, and movement economy with broad swords, Grandpa had him dodging in circles, keeping out of striking range by positioning himself on the outer side of the blade.

When Seth complained about not having a good position to attack, Grandpa proceeded to disarm him seven times in a row, attacking from that exact angle when Seth was too slow to move. It was safe to say that ‘the best way to win is to not be there’ was beaten into his arms by dinner.

Knox still hadn’t come back, so Seth took a plate of food and started asking around to find his cousin. Grandpa and Tanu had both suggested giving Knox space, but they didn’t know him. Grandpa wasn’t related to Knox, and Knox was the kind of person that needed someone to show off to in order to be a person at all.

Eventually a dwarf pointed him towards the room at the very top of the central structure. It wasn’t really a room, since it had no walls, just a couple of pillars holding up the roof. A sort of small pavilion.

“I see you’ve found the High Judgement Court,” Seth said, rounding the top of the stairs.

“That what this place is called? It was empty, I figured I wouldn’t bother anyone here, but I suppose it’s a fitting place for me,” Knox said.

“You missed dinner, I brought you some food,” Seth said.

Knox waved it away. ���I ate my fill at Stormguard.”

Seth set down the plate of food by him anyway, “You know, we’re taking turns being an absolute wreck about Kendra. I had first go before sunrise, Grandma and Grandpa went while I was sleeping. Thought I should warn you that your turn is almost up.”

“I can’t believe you’re still cracking jokes while Kendra’s kidnapped,” Knox said, clenching his fists. “And with the person whose fault it is.”

“Ronodin’s not here,” Seth said, “He’d be getting a sword to the gut if he was.”

“It’s my fault Kendra was kidnapped!” Knox yelled. “Everyone knows it, they’re all angry and just trying to spare my feelings. It was making me sick. That’s why I am up here. Now leave.”

“Knox, you screwed up,” Seth said, “Everyone does it. No one blames you. We’ve fought tricky enemies before, and we’ve all figured out how to put the blame where it belongs, on the bad guys. You’re the only one who hasn’t yet.”

Knox snorted, “Maybe everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone gets people kidnapped on their first go.”

And it clicked for Seth, in a weird moment of vague empathy. Looking at Knox, he remembered a rushed salt circle, clinging to Kendra, trembling as ghastly noises raged through the house.

Seth regretted not coming sooner.

“No, you’re right, some of us wait until our second mistake to get our family members kidnapped and threaten the whole world,” Seth said. Knox jerked to look at him, but if they were going to have a feeling-ish touchy heart-to-heart, Seth was going to be looking over the preserve.

“You can’t mean —”

“We haven’t had any time between dragon feasts, cursed tournaments, and everything else,” Seth started, “But you’re a couple of important hours late to the magic party. Back when we went to Grandma and Grandpa Larsen’s funeral, all our parents went on a cruise, remember?” Knox nodded. “Kendra and I were sent to stay at Fablehaven for two weeks.”

“That’s when you found out about this stuff? You’ve only known three years?” Knox asked, looking a little perplexed, “I thought you guys had been doing this way longer. How’d you get to be in charge?”

“Longer story,” Seth said ruefully, “We knew things were a little odd, back then. Grandpa kept telling me to stay out of the woods for more and more dangerous reasons, while Kendra played riddle games in the attic of the main house. Grandpa had set up clues for us, to see if we were curious enough to be open to the secrets. Kendra figured out about the milk, she used me as her guinea pig.

“My first mistake? I wanted a pet fairy. A fairy trader had come to visit, and I thought I could catch one too. He was a real adventurer, you know? But I didn’t know the rules, like you didn’t know not to trust the dungeon goblins. I caught a fairy, and kept it in my drawer overnight. Doing that turns the fairy into an imp. Dark, scaly, multiple fangs and eyes, angry. A butterfly into a spider. She had pleaded and begged me from inside the jar not to keep her trapped, but I knew so much better than her, I was going to release her in the morning.”

“Woah,” Knox said, “Tess would hate you forever for that. Could you undo it? With your shadow stuff?”

Seth smiled ruefully, “Me? No, no one can undo that. And the shadow stuff came later. So the fairies got their revenge. You made it to Terrebelle because Tess is like, the most innocent person ever, right? That day was when I lost my innocence protection under most treaties. The fairies came and attacked me. The next part’s a little fuzzy, Kendra said I was some kind of malformed, fleshy walrus. It hurt, my senses were all mixed up, I was breathing through my back, and Grandpa and Kendra fixed me by making a deal with a witch. So yeah, my first mistake didn’t get anyone kidnapped, but it wasn’t a small deal either.”

Knox hesitated, and Seth waited.

“And… and your second mistake?”

“The third floor of the main house is meant for children, and when only children are in it, they have extra protection. You saw how everything went crazy last night?” Seth checked, and Knox nodded, “That’s what happens on the summer solstice at every preserve. Part of the treaty says they can party without boundaries on solstices and equinoxes. The boundaries of the actual buildings at Fablehaven stay secure, but the creatures can party around the yard and all the way up to the window.”

Knox shuddered, “Dude, you’re making this sound like a horror story.”

Seth gave a weak smile. The sun was finally starting to touch the horizon, on the longest day of the year. “Dude, because it was. Over and over they told me not to go near the windows. Don’t look. Phantoms can take any shape, and wraiths were waiting to suck the life out of you. But that just sounded so cool. A little peek wouldn’t hurt anyone. Looking never hurt anyone.

“I peeked. Kendra scolded me the whole time. Fairies were lighting up jack o’lanterns outside the window, keeping the worst of the monsters away so I didn’t see anything good. They saw me though, and the fairies couldn’t ditch me fast enough. They hadn’t forgiven me for turning their sister into an imp. They flew away, Kendra dragged me back. Creatures got right up to the window and started playing out horrible things. It was the wolves eating toddlers that got me, and I opened the window, worried for the kid. That let them in the house. We managed to get the creatures out of the attic, and nothing could get back in with the extra protections. The ones I let in though, they let in all their friends to the rest of the house.”

“No,” Knox said. Seth looked over and saw the appropriate look of horror.

“Yep, I clung to Kendra like a baby the whole night. When it was over in the morning, Dale was a statue, Lena and Grandpa were abducted, Hugo gone. See, it took my second mistake to really mess things up. You were able to do a lot of good before your big screw up. You helped with the scepter, which, no joke, saved Wrymroost. And we wouldn’t have found Lockland, who gave us the glove to go forward, if we didn’t put you in the quiet box.”

“They couldn’t attack me because of the whole innocence thing, right? How did you guys get out of it? How did you fix your mistake back then?”

The memories replayed in his mind.

“Err, I have the feeling you’re not going to believe me if I told you,” Seth said with a small grin.

“Really dude?” Knox protested, “I was turned into gold last night, flew back here in a flying carriage, your sister was kidnapped by a wooden puppet after loosing her memory, and waiting out there are a bunch of dragons ready to kill us. I think I can take whatever you did at Fablehaven to rescue your grandparents.”

Seth stood up, “I’ve pulled you out of your slump. No one blames you, because mistakes happen, and what’s important is working to fix them. Come on, it’s time to turn in.”

“I’m not leaving until I get the rest of the story,” Knox said, “You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

“Fine. Well, first off, Grandma Sorenson hadn’t been captured because she had been turned into a chicken…”

[thewebcomicsreview]

Seeing as I don’t have a job right now (one week furlough), I managed to get a lot of writing for Saffron and Sage done today. Now I feel good! Time to ruin that with a Homestuck 2 Liveblog! Last time: Jade kidnapped “Yiffy”, much to Jane’s distress! No time for that, though, as we’re back with the Candyland Kids. 

HARRY: vrissy, i know this is a stressful predicament but i think that's going too far. HARRY: my dad believes in us. HARRY: and if he thinks there's something we can do, then there has to be a way!

Kind of interesting that Harry holds his dad’s opinion in such high esteem, considering that his dad has been AWOL pretty much his whole life.

TAVROS: Uncle john isn't to blame for this,,, HARRY: yeah, no shit tav. HARRY: this whole situation is because of YOUR insane hitlermom.

How the hell does Harry Anderson know who Hitler is? When did that conversation come up? This is a completely different universe! 

TAVROS: Is less sincere,,, than it is,,, an attempt to weaponize something difficult for me, TAVROS: In order that you can win an argument,,, with harry anderson,,,,, VRISKA: GRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! VRISKA: WILL YOU ALL JUST VRISKA: SHUT!!!!!!!! VRISKA: UP!!!!!!!!

A good example of why characters like John, Jade, Vriska, and sometimes Karkat are important in Homestuck or in stories generally. They actually do shit. 

VRISKA: Neither you nor your friends have anything really important going on. VRISKA: Your lives and your planet are a total 8ore! VRISKA: 8ut somehow John loves you anyway. VRISKA: Try and be fucking gr8ful for that every once in a while. VRISKA: Not everyone is so lucky.

Vriska please do not be pining for middle-aged John Egbert. You have literally half a dozen semi-official love interests (John, Terezi, Eridan, Tavros, Meenah and Kanaya), please don’t pick the one old enough to be your dad. It was already weird enough when Adult John got hot and bothered by teen Roxy in the epilogues, to say nothing of you fucking a middle-aged homeless clown in a bush.  

thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG]

Oh, fuck you, Homestuck. It’s bad enough that Harry and Dave are both going to be referred to as “TG” in chatlogs, but now Vrissy and Vriska are both AG and have the same font color! 

TG: i've allocated the strife specibus with the scissorkind abstratus? TG: hm. TG: using this weird vocab and stuff feels... well, weird. TG: i'm not sure why, but it seems as though everything that's about to happen is that much more important now. TG: or maybe it already was, but i just didn't understand just how important until this moment.

One issue with wearing your metaphor on your sleeve as much as Homestuck 2 does is that thematically important lines become really obvious. 

I like how the triangle-shaped panel around Vriska escaping the crowd by simply walking into it is reminiscent of a magic 8-ball. That’s clever! 

VRISKA: Your society... no, your whole planet... it deserves to 8urn str8 to MEGAhell, and I'm gonna 8e the one to fly it there! VRISKA: I'm gonna shatter your paradise into pieces with my 8are hands and SHIT IN ITS GRAVE!!!!!!!! VRISKA: HOW'S THAT FOR A FUCKING ST8MENT! VRISKA: YOU GOT ALL THAT, JANE CROCKER? VRISKA: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT'S COMING FOR YOU???????? VRISKA: YOU'VE MESSED WITH VRISKA: ********VRISKA******** VRISKA: ****FUUUUUUUUCKING**** VRISKA: ********SERK8T********

There’s some extreme Dungeons and Dragons energy here, where Vriska’s plan to escape a mob of reporters working for a totalitarian dictatorship run by literal gods is to simply walk outside and publicly declare her intent to destroy the world as punishment for its sins. 

And yeah, this is how that plan usually works in DnD, too.

Man, the next page is a wall of text, whereas in old Homestuck this’d be an animation. I get “fair wages” and “small budget”, but is still feels weird to see a big Strife scene merely get described with boring-ass words.

Fearing gunfire, the few paparazzi who aren't currently getting their asses handed to them by the world's angriest traffic cone start to trip over each other, diving for cover.

The world’s angriest traffic cone.

Far away, in her lair, Jane Crocker grabs the two sides of her computer monitor with enough strength to snap it in two. She can't believe what she's watching. Behind her, from a shadowy corner of the room, there is an agitated growling noise and the rattle of chains.

Is that Yiffy? Is Yiffy an animal? Please tell me Yiffy is not a person that Jade named Yiffy. 

....Actually, please tell me that Yiffy isn’t an animal Jade named Yiffy that is Jade’s child via sex with another animal that might be my breaking point.

Vriska alights on the ground, rakes her throat, quietly spits out a little wad of blue, and wipes her mouth unceremoniously. Tavros pats Harry Anderson tentatively on the arm. Vrissy tries to be badass and cough up something too but she doesn't really make it work.  

Vrissy::Vriska Vriska::Mindfang

It’s weird that John’s sprite is the same even though he’s middle aged now, but I like that his God Tier outfit doesn’t fit any more. Isn’t it magical? Ahh, who cares.

JOHN: this old thing is pretty uncomfortable in a lot of ways. JOHN: hm... JOHN: when we get a moment, maybe the two of us could brainstorm a redesign? JOHN: no pressure though. HARRY: !!!

Oh, that’s why! That’s cute. 

JADE: theres something i need to tell you

don’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadogdon’thavefuckedadog

JADE: john... i have a daughter JADE: shes almost harry andersons age JOHN: ... JOHN: ... JOHN: you have a daughter.

Named Yiffy?

ROSE: It was at this point that Jade came to me. ROSE: I could understand her pain quite acutely, and so... ROSE: I agreed to carry a child on her behalf. KANAYA: . ROSE: ... Without telling Kanaya.

Without-

Kanaya is your WIFE. You LIVE WITH HER. Even ignoring the question of why you’d keep 9 months of pregnancy from your wife, how? Kanaya would have been living with humans for years at that point and she’s literally in charge of reproduction don’t tell me she thought Rose just got fat for a while and then lost the weight really fast. 

ROSE: I'm... not sure why I made that decision. ROSE: I regret not telling Kanaya, of course. ROSE: But I can't say that I regret going through with it. ROSE: At the time, it didn't feel as though the deception was even all that prolonged. The whole affair was... short. ROSE: Purely physical, and nothing more.

ROSE: John, there isn't a father. ROSE: Jade and I are the sole parents of this child. JOHN: oh. JOHN: ... JOHN: OH. JOHN: oh i'm so sorry, i didn't th- ROSE: That's quite alright John, although you might like to direct that apology more towards your sister. ROSE: All I will say is that if you would like to take up the particulars with us, ROSE: Some *other* time, 

Actually, if John doesn’t know that Jade has a male dog’s genitals due to a fusion accident, I’d love to know what that all-caps OH means. What does he think happened, that Jade and Rose managed to have a baby? 

JOHN: so... how did you hide the pregnancy? ROSE: Oh, that was simple. ROSE: Jade's genes being, as they are, part canine, the gestation period was substantially reduced.

OH NO 

Yiffy is literally a furry, isn’t she? Moreso that Jade, she’s a full-on “Can be naked onscreen and it’s okay because she’s covered in fur” dog girl.

JOHN: i think i understand everything so f VRISSY: WAIT!!!!!!!! VRISSY: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME VRISSY: NOT ONLY DO I H8VE A SISTER VRISSY: 8UT YOU NAMED VRISSY: YOUR ****SECRET CHILD**** VRISSY: ********YIFFY********????????

Vrissy makes an excellent point. 

ROSE: We didn't call her Yiffy. ROSE: That would be a quite ridiculous thing with which to burden a child. ROSE: Her full name is Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley.

Vrissy looks as though she is about to shit the belltower they are standing in, brick by brick.

ROSE: It was, in hindsight, a monumentally terrible decision acting as the final chapter in a long series of novels, each one full of progressively more terrible decisions than the last. ROSE: But that is the name that we decided upon.

Oh, wait a second. Vriska changed Vriska Maryam-Lalonde to Vrissy, and changed Harry Anderson to just Harry. So obviously she’s going to rename Yiffy to literally anything else, then rename Tavros, and then we’ve got a new set of four kids as Vriska leaves to do something else. That’s what going to happen, right? Right? Please? 

ROSE: You have to understand... this whole situation ended up playing out a bit like an ironic game of chicken between the two of us. ROSE: Something that far outstripped anything that the Strider fraternity could have produced in their wildest, most jpegged creative wet dreams. ROSE: But in the end that triumph of irony came back to bite us in the fucking ass, as irony is wont to do. ROSE: There was absolutely no possibility of us casually letting you all know that, by the way, we had had a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking. ROSE: At least, not right away. ROSE: But carapacian change-of-name paperwork is so complex and circuitous that, eventually, keeping quiet forever just seemed like the more reasonable option.

This is, even for Homestuck, monumentally stupid. You named your daughter Yiffany Longstocking as a joke and then kept the child secret because you were embarrassed. You two are awful fucking parents. You are the worst parents in the entire series, and that includes Bro Strider and the spider that made Vriska feed it children. 

And we’re literally at the point where the writing is bad and the joke is how bad the writing is. This isn’t enjoyable to read; you can’t make a bad B-movie My Immortal fanfic on purpose.  

Even now, Yiffy is likely being held at spoonpoint

I feel like “Jade and Rose have a secret daughter named Yiffany Longstocking” can be a joke or it can be drama but maybe not both at the same time. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT HAPPENED TO DISAGREE

The other cutoff, 38, has a hundred and forty, so can we have credit for the larger of the two we aim at. It's easier to make an inexpensive product more powerful than to make a million dollars worth of wealth in the world.1 If someone sat down and wrote a web browser that didn't suck a fine idea, by the way, the world would be that much richer. If a server got wedged, we jumped; just thinking about it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, years later.2 Makers depend on something more precarious: inspiration. The customer support people were about thirty feet away from the company, as well, when you look at the same time, as their next door neighbors. Burning through too much money chasing too few good deals. Rebellion is almost as stupid as it sounds. What's missing? Then a squad of QA people step in and start counting them, and that is exactly the spirit you want.3 As knowledge gets more specialized, there are twenty more that operate in niche markets.4

Presumably it killed just about 100% of the startups we've funded have. For most of the founders might decide to split off and start another company doing the same thing, you're probably not going to kill the company. And a good thing for the Democrats that their screen lets through an occasional Clinton, even if you don't do everything you're supposed to have. Some people could probably start a company with a valuation any lower. A great programmer, on a roll, could create a million dollars worth of wealth in the world. In a feudal society, there are a lot of people to ask themselves about this explicitly.5 People who didn't care much for religion felt less pressure to go to work for the Post Office for fifty years. Everyone knows these, because there are no releases, ports, and so on.

The danger here is that you get instant feedback from changes: the number of founders in the same business. And yet bullshit does have a distinctive character. Google, and Facebook all began this way.6 The important thing is to be young. If you want to understand change in economic inequality, is different from growing one. If two companies have the same kind of stock and get diluted the same amount in future rounds.7 Over time the teams have gotten smaller, faster, and more informal.8 So have we just shown, by reductio ad absurdum, that it's false that economic inequality is to treat it as a single phenomenon. It's hard to write entire programs as purely functional code, but you have less control over the rate at which individuals can create wealth as well as keeping worse time, mechanical watches have to be prepared to see the real Nixon.9

At the seed stage, investors don't expect you to have an increasingly prosperous society without increasing variation in income, but it could not have put into words exactly how their ugly ducklings were going to be good at what I did be satisfied by merely doing well in school. Plus they were always right.10 When I said I was speaking at a high school. But, like children's books, TV was also misleading. What Microsoft is this the Altair Basic of? If you ask yourself what you spend your time on them have to be small? The only company selling SSL software at the time it seemed the future. So despite those millions in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. Morally, they care about getting the big questions right, but not all jobs offer internships, and those that do don't teach you much more about the work than being a batboy teaches you about playing baseball.11 Our existence depended on doing these things right.12 And more specifically, is it possible to create wealth how much people want something x the number who do make it. And while some of the fragmentation we've seen?

Notes

But those are the first philosophers including Confucius and Plato saw themselves as teachers of administrators, and mostly in Perl. Nor do we push founders to try, we'd have understood why: If you actually started acting like adults, it may be some part you can remove them from the compromise you'd have to follow redirects, and they were going about it. A doctor, P.

Most people should not try to ensure startups are usually obvious, even though it's at least once for that reason.

I know it didn't to undergraduates on the richer end of the word wealth, seniority will become correspondingly more important.

Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 2005.

7 reports that in fact I read comments on e. And startups that seem excusable according to some abstract notion of fairness or randomly, in virtue of Aristotle's immediate successors may have to watch out for here, I believe will be better to overestimate than underestimate the importance of making n constant, it would take up, but this sort of idea are statistics about the smaller investments you raise them. Some of Aristotle's immediate successors may have been the losing side in debates about software design. The founders who take the line?

Investors are professional negotiators, and should in some cases e.

I warn about later: beware of getting credit for what gets included in shows is basically a replacement mall for mallrats. How much more depends on where you could turn you into a big angel like Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the future, and earns the right to buy stock, the big winners aren't all that value, counting users as active when they're on the parental dole for life in general we've done ok at fundraising is so plausible, you have is so pervasive how often have valuation caps, a valuation. So starting as a predictor.

Calaprice, Alice ed.

As he is at least on me; how can I make it harder for you; who knows who you start fundraising, but that's overkill; the Reagan administration's comparatively sympathetic attitude toward takeovers; the Reagan administration's comparatively sympathetic attitude toward takeovers; the critical question is only half a religious one; there is a case of the class of 2007 came from such schools. I wrote a hilarious but also like an undervalued stock in that category. Candidates for masters' degrees went on to the decline in families eating together was due to fixing old bugs, and so on.

It's a bit misleading to treat macros as a consulting company is common, to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to.

I'm not saying it's impossible without a time machine, how much they'll pay. Successful founders are driven by the normal people they're usually surrounded with. And no one else involved knows French. If you're trying to decide between two alternatives, we'd be interested to hear about the nature of an urban legend.

If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they wouldn't have the same amount of material wealth, the higher the walls become. I used thresholds of. When you had a day feels like it that the usual way of calculating real income, or at least 150 million in 1970.

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 22 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 22: Lost Memories

AO3 Link

Previous Chapters: 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

–––––––––––

On Friday, Dabi found himself surrounded by four figures, recognising only one by his still-long silver hair like strands of moonlight, his hardened, battle-scarred face and calm expression. 

“This is a nice reunion. I can’t say I remember all of you – mostly because I don’t care to do so, but if Nine let you guys into his special club, you guys are likely decent.” Dabi smirked, eyeing each of them in turn. 

The rightmost one, an imposing wolf-man gave a growl. “Decent? I’ll show you decent.”

“Chimera,” Nine, to his left, spoke softly. To Dabi’s surprise, the subordinate huffed and stayed silent. Turning back to face Dabi, Nine said, “It has indeed been a while. You understand the logistics of this experiment?”

“Shigaraki put me to it, of course I do.” 

“Then let us proceed.” Nine stepped towards him, while his minions tensed up. 

“Nine, are you sure about this?” The skinny man directed a glare towards Dabi. Dabi didn’t need that to tell him they were suspicious of him. 

“I’ll be in safe hands. We will meet at the location I’ve given you all. Take care, friends.” Nine gave a wave of dismissal, and with some reluctance, the remaining three departed in silence. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Dabi pocketed his hands and began leaving the forest clearing, heading back towards Deika City. He heard Nine’s footsteps behind him. 

“Your demeanour has certainly shifted. What happened to the old Vengeance?”

“Who?”

“You, obviously.”

Dabi racked his brain, but the name didn’t ring a bell. “Well, I don’t call myself that horrible name now.”

“I’ve heard. Numerous cases of burnt corpses or piles of ashes, blue flames. They call you Dabi now. I thought it was peculiar, but it made sense when I could no longer contact your old mentor.” 

“Your squadmate.” Dabi corrected, the fact returning to his memories. As Nine’s voice entered his head, it hummed in resonance with old recollections where he had met the man in his teenagehood. He now recalled the one encounter, out of the few, where Dabi had first seen that calm, controlled countenance contort with rage, born from the ideology he stole. 

“It confused me initially. I wondered why a man you respected and perhaps even cared for would be subject to your flames. The possibilities ranged from hallucinogens to collateral damage. But no.” Nine murmured. “You killed Dabi intentionally, didn’t you?”

Dabi was silent for three seconds, the air cold as winter storms. “You were right,” Touya said. “He left me for dead, but I escaped, and then...yeah.”

Nine sighed. “How poetic. To die by his partner’s hands, as he let his squad die all those years ago. But that brings me to my other question.”

They were drawing near to civilization, weaving through pine trees and stepping over brooks. 

“Why take his name?” 

“Figure it out yourself,” Dabi said with a forceful tone of finality. “We’re almost reaching the place.” 

To his credit, Nine dropped the subject. Perhaps he did so because he needed what Shigaraki had to offer. Antagonising Dabi wouldn’t be smart.

They were reaching one of the tunnels that led to the Liberation Front’s assembly square, now empty. It was empty, likely only watched by Skeptic’s surveillance. But a few raised eyebrows is all it would draw; Skeptic was too cowardly to question Dabi’s tasks or Shigaraki’s plans. 

“Here?” Dabi heard disgust in Nine’s tone as the musty air rushed out of the opening doors. 

“Can’t let anyone see us. This is good.” Dabi shut the doors behind them. Tapping his earpiece, he said, “We’re good, Doc.”

“I’ve been waiting for a while now,” Ujiko huffed on the other end of the line. “Give me a second.”

“Have a safe trip, Nine, I’ll see you on Monday.” Dabi waved, concealing a grin. 

Nine gave a nod, before Ujiko’s teleportation took hold of his form, and Nine’s body disappeared within the swampy goo. 

Dabi leaned against the wall, feeling more memories return of the other Dabi. The first Dabi. Did I ever know his name? I don’t think he, nor Nine, ever told me. Special forces… all that secrecy. 

He felt his fire ignite on his arm out of instinct. He willed it to die, and instead, let the past engulf him. 

––––––––––

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“Touya.” I rubbed my hands out of instinct. What time is it? How long did I sleep?

“Quirk?”

“I can shoot fire.” 

“Was it you back there? The fire at that mall in the afternoon?” 

“No,” I lied. 

The stranger cocked his head. “I ain’t gonna report you to the police, kid. I’m not exactly on best terms with them myself.” 

“Are you…” The word on the tip of my tongue was like a matchstick to a fuse. 

“A villain?” He scoffed. “I just fixed you up and gave you a place to sleep for the night. Do I look like one?” 

I looked him up and down. Grey coat, green goggles on his forehead, a cigarette in his hand. “No,” I said. 

“Well, your perception needs some work.” He leaned back on the creaky folding chair. “Officially, I’m considered one, but unlike the thugs in alleys like this, I have standards. And I don’t take kids hostage, even if you’re Endeavour’s kid.” 

I backed away, my back slamming against the mouldy bricks. “How did you —“ 

“Please, a fire quirk, and recent sightings of Endeavour at the same mall that was set on fire? Don’t play dumb with me.” 

“That was his doing,” I argued. 

He took a puff and clucked his tongue. “Now you’re blaming it on your dad? Not very filial.” 

“I hate my dad.” The venom coursed through every word I spat out, which seemed to startle even the stranger.

“Hm, some spirit in you. Well, take that bravado and run off now, why don’t you?” 

“What?” 

He quirked his eyebrow. “You heard me, shoo.” 

“But…” My head drooped. “I’ve nowhere to go. I’m running away.”

“Well, you should have thought of a plan before setting fire to a mall, using that as an escape, and nearly choking to death in the flames you made.” Every word in that sentence made my skin shudder. 

I was desperate, I wanted to say, but desperation would only paint me as prey in the underbelly of society, my next stage of hell that the gods were benevolent enough to throw me into.  

“I can help you,” I decided to say, raising my head, mustering the drops of defiance in myself.

The man snorted. “How exactly does a 13 year old kid benefit me? I don’t do teams, boy.” 

“What if I beat you in a fight?” I clenched my fists, which still stung from the wounds. 

He scanned my form and the guise of confidence on my face. “Oh, so you were trained by Endeavour. I thought you were one of those prissy boys enjoying a rich life.”

My face drained of heat and colour. How did he know?

“Look, I’m not a smart guy, but I’m smarter than you. I can make my own assumptions, one of which is that I’d win you in a fight. No contest.”

“I…” My voice trailed off.

“How about this?” The man said, throwing his cigarette behind him. “You know hide and seek?” 

I frowned. “Yes. It’s a childish game.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s one of the best strategies for its simplicity. Let’s play that game. Give me a minute, then go to the nearby park. It’s midnight, no one will see you. And if you get caught by a stray policeman, I’m not saving you again. Anyway, if you can find me, I’ll let you in. Got it?” 

I gulped, hoping this wasn’t dangerous for myself, but considering how I’d be unconscious for a couple of hours and he hadn’t done anything, I felt a sense of trust in this stranger. 

“Ok, tha – thank you. How long do I have?”

“60 seconds. Start counting.” With that, he left the alley. 

1...2...3

Ten seconds in, I wondered if he was simply leaving me as a twisted joke. How far could he run in a minute? What was his quirk anyway? 

Twenty seconds in, I contemplated scrounging this hideout for whatever I could find and running from him, but the guilt of betraying his hospitality stopped me. 

Thirty seconds in, in a moment of panic, I thought he was going to turn me in. What if people died in the fire? I would be held responsible, wouldn’t I? What if everything he said about himself being a villain was a lie?

The minute felt stretched into eternity with the unceasing torrent of worries flooding my mind. But after being frozen in one spot throughout, I heard myself say 60. Taking a deep breath, I got up and left the hideout, entering the cold night. 

––––––––––

Dabi heard the door groan open. He opened his eyes to see a familiar form, shrouded by a recognizable parka hood.

“You?” Dabi frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Geten’s form went rigid, like a burglar who had been caught by a flashlight. 

“I thought...there was a meeting,” She said. 

“And you chose to enter by this tunnel?” His tone was acidly amused. 

Geten didn’t reply for a couple of seconds. “Yes.” 

Dabi sighed. “For a lieutenant, you’re shit at lying. You were following me, weren’t you? Why would you enter an empty place where you know your entrance would be heard so goddamn clearly?” 

“You were in there for a while. I thought,” She caught herself, but relented. “I thought something happened to you. That man. He looked dangerous.”

Dabi’s breath was stuck in his throat. It was his turn to be stunned. “I was fine, alright. I’m just thinking. So, how much did you hear?” He folded his arms in annoyance, but he found it suddenly difficult to muster anger against her.

“Next to nothing, apart from your farewell. What are you doing when the Festival starts?” 

“I’ll be there during the Festival. Don’t worry.” Dabi figured Twice could simply generate a copy of him. Technically, it was the truth. 

“You’re a liar.” The emotion in her words took him aback, as if that really struck a painful chord in her. “You wouldn’t sound so reassuring. What’s going on?” 

Ugh. Shigaraki won’t be happy if I told her. 

“I’m not going to divulge this to anyone. I’ve no intention to, anyway,” She added.

“It’s just a side task, okay? You can handle the regiment just fine.”

Geten was quiet, then she spoke, “Can we continue this somewhere else?”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t want to make the amateur mistake you did when speaking to that man.” She gestured around them. 

Ah. Dabi had an idea what she intended to say. “If you say so. Where’s a good place?” 

But Geten responded only by opening the door and motioned for him to follow. 

[dawnwave16]

Not what I Expected

One chapter left!  I’m going to put a “Keep Reading thing at the bottom of the actual chapter as I name-dropped four celebs and I don’t know how many people know of them so I figured it would be better to at least let people know who they are :)

Start; 11; 12(here); 13(Last)

  Chapter 12:

For now, though all she could do was have a good night's sleep.

In theory, the plan was simple, in actuality, it was much more complicated to pull off then one would think. They had all the evidence they needed, as did the Italian embassy, who had deemed it appropriate to revoke their diplomatic immunity. As soon as everything started Mrs Kelly would be arrested for conspiracy to commit murder and for aiding a terrorist. That was the easy part. The hard part was going to catch Hawkmoth and Nekane.

The Parisian police had set up a very discrete perimeter around their prim suspect's residence with camera's trained on every window and door to catch any butterflies that left. They had a special camera focused on a window that looked like a butterfly and had what looked to be blast shields that would slide open or close depending on what the operator wanted. They had seen movement within on their infrared camera earlier but they needed more than circumstantial evidence to move in and make an arrest. If necessary, Commissaire Clement had the turtle miraculous and would move in to do the arrest, but that was the last resort only. 

Nekane's takedown was where things would get complicated. Essentially it would be announced to the school as a careers day. Marinette had organised for the school to be called into the main courtyard at 10 am. There was a stage set up at one end of it where the various guest speakers would be speaking from there were chairs for them to sit in once they were done. There had been an announcement on Monday to let everyone know that they would be hosting guest speakers for the careers day and Nekane, although she was still known as Lila to the rest of the students, had claimed she had organised everything. She even claimed that Marinette had tried to talk her out of it.

Everything proceeded well, Prince Ali had spoken about his work with children's hospitals and how he wished he could do more. When they allowed questions, Nathaniel had pointedly asked about his go-green projects to which Ali had replied that although he supported the idea, he didn't have any projects like that as otherwise, he would be too busy.

Jagged Stone had gone next and spoken about life as a rock star and being on the road. He spoke of how Penny had been such a big help and as a result, he emphasized the idea of having reliable people to support them when they were busy. This time it was Luka who spoke up and he asked about Jagged's kitten and despite knowing the question was coming, Jagged had looked highly offended and declared he'd never had one. He wasn't allergic nor did he have anything against them, he just didn't think it would handle the travelling lifestyle.

The next few speakers continued in much the same way. As they all had roughly 30 minutes to talk, plus 10 minutes extra for questions if they so wished, it seemed like everything was going well. They had talks from Steven Spielberg, Michael Houlie, Diane Sawyer, Shinya Yamanaka* and a few more. Each one of them got asked a question by a member of Marinette's class or group about one of Lila's lies about them only for those questions to be answered in such a way that it showed Lila had lied. With each lie that was exposed Lila got angrier and angrier so the team was on high alert for an Akuma. 

By this stage, the whole class had realised she was lying and they were subtly trying to shift away from Lila. It was the perfect time for their last two speakers. First Reid stepped onto the stage. He didn't like being a public speaker but he was good at it when he needed to be. He spoke about what it was like to gain multiple doctorates and to be the youngest person in your workforce. He also spoke very briefly about bullying and what it could do to someone. His main topic, however, was about teaching and how you should make sure to look at all sides of an argument within your class before calling anyone out. As he could quote anything he had read he used their school's code of conduct to do this effectively calling out Mlle Bustier on her behaviour. When he finished his talk he could see several teachers glaring at her and at M. Damocles, both of whom were trying to make themselves look invisible.

Finally, it was time for the final person to speak. Lila watched in horror as David Rossi walked onto the stage and started talking about the work the BAU did and about criminal psychology in general. He spoke about some of the different unsubs they had convicted and what lead to those convictions. He didn't give all the details but enough for everyone to be able to understand the cases. When the time came for the questions and Lila's lie about him came out, Lila's temper finally exploded.

“Oh, I see what this whole thing was. Let's make everyone humiliate Lila in the worst possible manner! Let's make Lila the bad guy!” As she shouted they kept an extra careful eye out for the Akuma they were sure would come. They were so focused on Lila however that they missed it taking over someone who had an even better reason to be angry, Jack.

Jack had been sitting quietly next to Mireille and had been content to simply watch everything but he had slowly been realising that there was more going on then what had met the eye. Although he was generally slow to anger he was still his father's son and the person that the whole day was aimed at taking down had been attacking his big sister. A big sister he thought the world of. A big sister who he had come to love wholeheartedly.

He hadn't realised that his temper had attracted a different villans attention but when he heard the voice inside his head he still tried to fight it, knowing that these were not his thoughts. Unfortunately, Hawkmoth knew just which buttons to push to make Jack give in. Due to nobody suspecting that Jack would be Akumatised, Candid was able to strike hard and fast. Where had once been a bubbly 9-year-old boy who loved his sister now stood an Akuma that they knew they would have to be careful facing. He wore what looked to be Captain America's costume, however, it was done in shades of blacks and blues mixed together as a camouflage pattern that made it hard to tell if he was solid or liquid or even if he was really there at all. His weapon was another nod to his favourite hero as it was in the form of a utility belt that he could draw pellets from, with each pellet having a different effect based on what he needed it to do.

The first they knew of him was when he made his first move which was to hit Lila with a pellet that contained a sort of truth serum. This made her start bragging about everything she had done. As the cameras were still on her from when she stood up after Rossi's talk, they decided to keep recording her but to not let anyone know as they didn't know if they would be able to use the knowledge in court. Even if it couldn't be used it would give them a surefire way to be able to pull her lies apart later.

As Lila was currently the centre of attention, Marinette signalled to the other's to get away and transform, then come back. She wouldn't be leaving to transform. Kitsune would make a mirage of ladybug purifying the Akuma and she would do so after everything had settled slightly. Chat could catch it in his bell to keep it contained for the meantime. She had let them know that she thought that the Akuma was in his belt so they had that going for them at least. The battle strategy that she had come up with on the fly didn't work out as she hoped though.

Candid hit several people with a different type of pellet that turned them into his own version of the Howling Commandos who worked together to stop people getting away. The Miraculous team had thankfully already transformed when Candid did this but it also meant they couldn't leave if they needed to. Marinette finally managed to get away and transform, using her Dragonbug form, and rejoin the group. She sighed softly then called for her team to listen carefully, as much as she didn't want to do it, she would have to use the dragons lightning body against Candid. She knew he would be healed when she used the miraculous cure but this was still her little brother and she hated hurting him. 

“Right, Viperion, be ready in case everything goes wrong. Kitsune see if you can get out to recharge if not just make sure no-one can see you as you drop the illusion. Akira I need you to be ready to use howl to distract him long enough for me to immobilise him. Tigris I'll need you to use your claws on his belt so that we can get rid of his belt, if the Akuma isn't in the belt, it'll be the shield so Chat be ready to use cataclysm on it. Honey, Oilarrak keep the commandos away from us as long as you can.”

Once she got nods from everyone, she motioned for them to move and they all sprang into action. A mild shock had Candid unable to move and a broken belt later the Akuma was free. She purified it quickly, used her cure and dashed away to detransform, making sure to run in from a different direction when she scoped Jack up into her arms. Soon they were surrounded by everyone wanting to make sure Jack was okay. Police had arrested Nekane, who had revealed her true name while under the effects of the pellets. 

She looked to Hotch and Quietly asked, “Did Commassaire Clement...?” She couldn't finish her question, nor did she have to as Hotch nodded. She looked down and swallowed. Gabriel Agreste had been caught as Hawkmoth while transformed and had been arrested. Nathalie hadn't had the chance to transform before she had been taken into custody as well. She sighed and moved away from her family, she had to go take possession of the two broaches and check for any other Miraculous related objects within the mansion. This was not going to be pleasant. 

This is the camo used:

Shinya Yamanaka

Yamanaka is a Japanese Nobel Prize-winning stem cell researcher. He received the prize in 2012 for his co-discovery that existing cells of the body can be converted to stem cells. He also received the 2013 Breakthrough Prize in Life Sciences, worth $3 million.

Extract taken from:https://bigthink.com/paul-ratner/top-ten-greatest-scientists-alive-today

Diane Sawyer

Sawyer is an American journalist who was the first female 60 Minutes correspondent and most recently anchored for ABC World News until September 2014. She currently does high-profile interviews and specials for ABC News. Beginning her career at the local news station and then the White House press office in 1970 at a time where there were very few female journalists, she was considered a great pioneer for the women who followed in her footsteps. During her long-standing career, Sawyer has co-anchored Primetime Live, 20/20 as well as ABC’s morning show Good Morning America, which she held for much longer than anticipated due to her popularity in the position; one she also received an Emmy Award for in 2000. She also won an Emmy in 2007 for her reporting on ABC World News, along with numerous others like the Peabody Award and the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award during her time on the show. Sawyer has also frequented the annual Forbes Magazine’s List of The World’s 100 Most Powerful Women since 2004.

extract taken from here:https://www.nyfa.edu/student-resources/top-12-influential-journalists-today/

A little of my heratige pushed it's way forward for this choice!  For future refrence I was born in South Africa but currently live in New Zealand

Michael Houlie

, South Africa

Michael Houlie turned a ton of heads last year at the Youth Olympic Games. His unabashed front-half speed on the 100 breaststroke is something that few elite internationals (Adam Peaty comes to mind) have the turnover to put in. Houlie moved to the US and started at the University of Tennessee (Molly Hannis, PJ Stevens) in the spring semester. After just a few short months with his new team, his NCAA Championship results didn’t quite match the hype – he was 23rd in the 100 breaststroke and skipped his other individual, the 200 breaststroke. But, that wasn’t really a fair data point – we don’t know how good he is in short course, and it was such a short turnaround after arrival, all while adapting to college and a new country. This week, Houlie is the top seed in the 50 and the 12th seed in the 100. He’s the youngest #1 seed in the meet on the men’s side.

Extract taken from:https://swimswam.com/top-10-male-swimmers-to-watch-at-the-2019-world-university-games/

Steven Spielberg

Producer | Schindler's List

One of the most influential personalities in the history of cinema, Steven Spielberg is Hollywood's best known director and one of the wealthiest filmmakers in the world. He has an extraordinary number of commercially successful and critically acclaimed credits to his name, either as a director, ...

Extract from:https://www.imdb.com/list/ls056848274/

@moonlightstar64​; @northernbluetongue​; @wargraymon0709​; @winter-gardenflower​; @bee-wrecker​; @starsshineandgivehope​; @goggles-mcgee​; @vivilakitty​

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

1826 Wednesday 5 April

6 11 1/4

Wrote the rough draft of index from 18 March to 1 April (this month) which took me till 8 3/4 - Went out at 8 55/60 to William Keighley and his son William who have this morning begun to cut and lay the fence at the bottom of the wood, in Mitholm holm - came in at 10 5/60 - took a turn or 2 on the terrace - then came upstairs - my long expected Letter from Mrs. Barlow (Paris) 3 pages the ends and under the seal - great deal of useful information respecting our journey, and a pattern of corded muslin to match for Madame Galvani - must not travel veturino - must not go to Bordeaux - one or other will not suit my aunt at all - the livre de postes very correct - follow this and cannot go wrong - Par poste (of 6 miles)

'1/50 for each horse, that is trente sols par cheval - trente sols par postilion, to the latter you give an additional dix sols, par poste, as 'un pour boise' or etrennes for himself which brings it to 2 francs for the postboy - they will often charge you 15 sols greasing, mending etc. which you can look to'.....'Captain Droz calculates the expense of posting from 9 to 10 francs par poste'....'Mr. and Madame Droz seemed to recommend Montpelier - a great many good physicians reside there also should I be in Paris when you visit it you will call on me or not just as you please'

She then proceeds to tell me of having been at a call at Mrs Kidds her Mrs Kidds society improved etc etc. such is all the notice taken of my seeing her or of my returning her letters etc. her letter is mere chit chat and about our travelling and as cold or rather as indifferent as possible never once addresses me by my name pointedly avoids any address at all concludes with

'did Madame ever tell you that she had passed fifty six at the abbaye saint germain (military prison) with her lover and that she had spent a thousand francs per day in giving dinners to his friends etc. etc. wishing you a long continuance of happiness and prosperity and that every blessing may attend you hereafter allow me to remain your very sincere friend CMB'

What a letter her style how altered is she then going to be married that her being in Paris in the autumn is uncertain my heart misgave me as I read her pages I felt I know not what my aunt asked if I had had a letter from her she wished to speak of her I said her letter was deadly cold I knew what she meant did not blame her it was my then mind not to call on her and I turned the subject I could not speak on it my heart was full tears were almost rushing to my eyes and all my blood seemed in my head perhaps she will not write to me there will be little more intercourse between us a feeling of desolation came over me tho I thought of Pi [Mariana] she must go back to delta [Charles Lawton] we will hurry thro Paris I will see no one there my mind seemed unstrung unable to attend to anything how can she be so cold so soon

I hurried up from breakfast at eleven and a quarter said to my aunt I would write my journal it always did me good

Came upstairs at 11 1/4 - have just written all the above of today - it has done me good my mind is more calm I begin to feel as if I could care less about it I will not write to her from the impulse of the moment I begin to reason on the altered style of her letter the change is too sudden the last was all religion this all indifference I cannot help returning to my old thought she is deep she wants to catch me is it not possible the change in her manner is studied she expects and means me to notice it I will take my time and muse upon it and play cautiously I will lay my feelings aside if she really did love me as she said she cannot be really indifferent so soon I will be calm and composed I have always had flying doubts of her we shall now see and try the truth - poor Pi [Mariana] I can trust her and she will suit me best perhaps after all I have known and tried her long my journal has indeed done me good the tyrannous feeling of the moment of mortification and I know not what is passing by God be thanked oh that I was better better in the eye of heaven -

Mrs. B- [Barlow] says,

'with vetturino horses you travel ten leagues a day, neither more nor less, you are not permitted to stop where you please, and the postilions always take you where their horses can be best accommodated, and this generally proves to be the worst and dirtiest Inn for the travellers to travel post, or vetturino, will come to much about the same expense, but the latter can only be tolerated in Italy'....Travelling post 'is just once again as expensive as the diligence conveyence; besides that, you will find their charges at Inns much greater; and also, if an accident occurs to their carriage on the road, you may detained on your journey a fortnight or more to get it repaired'.....

Vide line 13 et sequiter of the last page - I am much better she answers all my questions about travelling so particularly or I should begin to feel rather indignant at 'should I be in Paris when you visit it you will call on me or not just as you please' - Mrs. B- [Barlow] met Madame de B- [Boyve] at Mrs. Kidd's - very civil to her and most attentive -

'She never pronounced your name' - 'Monsieur de Cussy said you would require 4 horses, so did Monsieur Droz - the latter calculated that it would cost you from 800 to 1000 francs to get to Montpelier or a similar distance' -

Had just finished the above of today at 12 40/60 - Whitley has sent me a wrong periodical this morning 'the Edinburgh Journal of Science', conducted by Dr. Brewter, instead of the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal conducted by professor Jameson - my father came - downstairs about an hour - gave him money to pay the men Riley and company who will have finished walling tonight at Northgate - From 2 1/4 to 3 40/60 wrote the latter 1/2 page 3, and the ends, and under the seal, very small and close, of my letter written this day week, and on Saturday and finished today - very kind letter - tell her of having hired Mc.D- [Macdonald] say today whether she suits us or not we shall always be equally obliged to her Miss Mc.L- [Maclean]

'If we like her the credit is yours; if we do not, the responsibility is our own - Never have a fear when you are good enough to do anything for us - we do not measure intentions by their success' - Bad her not fidget herself about that over which she has no control 'and if the interest of the debt does not amount to more than half your income never mind it her brothers good management may bring all round - I wish you could make over all your cares to your brother, take a certain income, be it what it might, and go, and be wherever suited your father best' - Our plans uncertain - 'we shall go to Paris in the 1st instance, and thence, I think to Montpellier - we should fix upon Florence for the winter, but I am doubtful how my aunt will be able to bear so long a journey - Dr. Scudmore says Nice' - ask her advice and to get us what information she can - 'I have not yet read Dr. Clarke on the different merits of these places - If it should turn out that my aunt is not able to go abroad (and Heaven only knows what will be the event), we must try Bath - You know it is not my custom to look on the dark side of anything; but, turn which way I will, the prospect is unclear and cheerless - Never dream of saying too much on the subject of your health to me - I think of it perpetually with much anxiety - Except on this account, you Sibbella, are the only one of my friends who has never given me a moment's uneasiness; and my regard for you is perhaps better, and steadier than you think - You will take my letters as they may be; and I will keep my promise, and write 'pretty frequently' - It is not in my heart to disappoint you in anything - 'Incomparable woman!' I write as in the person of your niece - Find fault with her and not with me - I think of you when I am happy - I think of you when I am not so - I seem to remember you only as I saw you at Esholt - Now and always, here and even where, it would delight me to see you and those who love me best, love you for my sake, till they love you for your own - I have thought more deeply than you may have fancied, on the contents of your last - I, too, have been, perhaps foolishly, plunging myself in debt by a very dear purchase which, somehow, I could not resist - but there are melancholy contingencies which seem as if they must happen, that, with economy, will clear me in 2 or 3 years after their occurrence This is not so much my reasoning, as my aunt's, whose conduct towards me is, in everything, most kind, most liberal, and most admirable - Our income will be lessened I know not how much as yet' -.....

''I will allow I am not congenial to Miss B-' this makes me smile - Poor Miss B-! she does not much suit either you or myself - I sometimes think, how nearly she had prevented all lasting intercourse between yourself and me! Sibbella! Could she have recompensed you for the loss of one whose regard for you will endure unaltered to the end? - Now that you understand me better, and know me well enough to believe me reasonable, and have forgiven me the sins of dress and address, I will acknowledge, there was, and is, and ever will be a tinge of romance in the colouring of my regard for you - But does it offend you Sibbella? or do dishonour to your judgement, or injustice to your heart? or have you even one prejudice that it would alarm? There is little, perhaps too little of romance in my feelings towards the world in general - My great regret is, that I did not know you earlier - A bulletin of your health at the end of your letter, if you please - and you, too, have dreamed of ossification! - you are right - What matters it how we leave this world, so our passage to the next be smooth? Good bye, Sibbella! May we meet there where consolation is not wanted, and, while we are here, may you believe me always very faithfully and affectionately yours AL - Tell us your opinion - Montpellier, Nice, or Florence? I think it will be Montpellier' -

Twenty minutes reading over my letter then From 4 to 4 3/4 wrote the last 41 lines of today - wrote the rough draft of the index of these 5 days of this month - wrote a note to Mr. Whitley to go tomorrow to desire him to send me the right Edinburgh Journal, and returning him the wrong one - Read over Mrs. B-'s [Barlow's] letter again - I feel quite composed about it now and quite reconciled-

Dressed - Dinner at 6 1/4 - tea and coffee at 8 1/4 - In the evening looking over and burning papers out of the cupboard opposite the door - after my aunt went to bed and to have her bath at 9 1/4, sat up looking over the top middle drawer of my uncle's bureau - burnt my uncle Samuels pocket book full of orders payments and patterns and burnt etc. etc. - Fine day, tho' a little damp and rain early in the morning and about noon and towards evening - Barometer 1/2 degree above changeable Fahrenheit 49° at 10 35/60 at which hour came up to bed - wrote the last 4 lines - hurried into bed having to curl my hair - E..O.. -  

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/9/0080 - SH:7/ML/E/9/0081

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2019

The last list, for now. It’s been a wild ride.

Not the best of these lists, but some really refreshing stuff charted that year, and what was good was super good. And also, here’s a barely elligible #1 that nobody seemed to care about for some reason.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

In 2019, my finger was fixed, I dropkicked depression in the garbage bin (with a little help from Eurovision because it was super good and full of hilarious shit), got married, and went on a roadtrip on Vancouver Island (BC, Canada), and that was my first real travel in 13 years. Met a lot of great people, seen amazing places, trees, bears and whales. And planes are also part of the adventure when you’re not used to them (you can watch movies on little screens from your seat now?? I had no idea. I watched so many movies). It was very exciting.

I also saw VNV Nation live in February, for the third time in six years. This time I had enough budget to buy a tshirt. I wasn’t expecting that concert to be even better than the previous two. At that point the new album had only been out for a couple of months and we still knew the lyrics of most of the new songs and Ronan’s face was constantly broadcasting a kind of “...........how” expression (face it guys, we like you. A lot). And they finished with All Of Our Sins and let me tell you, half the club was ready to start a revolution by the time that was over. Super intense.

Ok. 2019 albums! First, let’s talk about some negative things. Coldplay released Everyday Life at the end of the year. It was... uh. It was basically how I stopped loving their new stuff. That’s a very sad conclusion (for now) to this saga. This is exactly what I feared would have happened after Viva La Vida, aka them trying to go back to their earlier sound - except in the meantime we’ve got three fantastic albums with songs full of energy and joy. So I’m not too mad about this, just disappointed.

Within Temptation released Resist, and it wasn’t very good either, but I appreciated the general aesthetic of it. More SF-themed albums in symphonic metal, please. NF released The Search and while I’m still not a fan there’s a song on it that would have been #1 on this list if it had been elligible, so that’s something. And Carly Rae Jepsen released Dedicated and it was super good so why isn’t she getting new hits. Why. It feels unfair. Oh, and Avantasia made Moonglow and that’s the first time I’ve cared about their stuff in like a decade or so. Ghost In The Moon is super good, check it out.

But the big event of the year music-wise, as far as I’m concerned, was the return of two bands I thought we had lost forever. Of course My Chemical Romance reformed, but they don’t have new music yet, so the main event for this post is the return of Tool with Fear Inoculum. It’s not even their best album, but having a pretty good new Tool album in the year of our lord 2019 wasn’t at all something I was counting on. Of course, the hardcore fans are still as insufferable as ever (insert the “you need a pretty high IQ” copypasta here), but it didn’t spoil my enjoyment of it. Come on! Their first album in 13 years! 80 minutes of hypnotic heavy rhythms and weird shit, an album that trolled me when I opened it by playing a music video while I was looking somewhere else (yeah I jumped), and they even managed to land a track for one week on the US hot 100! Again, Tool! On the hot 100! in 2019! Unbelievable. Are we starting to return to the good timeline? I certainly hope so.

Unelligible songs, now. The Search by NF would have topped this list super easily. Might be one of the songs I listened to the most in 2019, actually. Now That I Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen, again, should have been a hit, and I beg you to watch this music video if you’ve never seen it. The 1975 released the super unexpected People, which was still good, and also Frail State of Mind. And most unexpected of all, three artists I didn’t care about at all teamed up and made absolute gold: I Think I’m OKAY, by Machine Gun Kelly, YUNGBLUD and Travis Barker. That would have been the second slot on this list if it had been elligible. Or maybe the first, even? Not sure. I’m just so happy this kind of angry but uplifting music is starting to become popular again. I just love everything about this song.

Here’s a short list of honorable mentions!

Roi (Bilal Hassani) - I don’t like this song a lot, but I do like it, I’m glad it was our song for the ESC 2019, and Bilal is a very nice and endearing person, and everyone who disrespects him on twitter is free to come fight me in the pit, where I’m still waiting with that tambourine from my 1992 list.

Con Calma (Daddy Yankee, Katy Perry, Snow) - You already know I liked the original Informer a lot, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to hear this clone of it on the radio.

Breathin’ (Ariana Grande) - Here’s the usual “if I had better taste this would be higher” honorable mention.

Summer Days (Martin Garrix) - In the absence of any new hit song from Macklemore this will do in a pinch.

Circles (Post Malone) - The fact that everyone seems to adore this and I’m over there saying “it’s ok I guess” probably means I will never love Post Malone nor understand the hype about him, and that’s okay, I can live with that.

High Hopes (Panic! At the Disco) - Still elligible. Still good but too borderline annoying to make the list.

How Do You Sleep (Sam Smith) - This year Sam Smith pulled a Viva La Vida and decided to stop making boring music all of a sudden and I’m LIVING FOR THIS. I certainly hope they continue in that direction.

And now, the list.

10 - La Grenade (Clara Luciani)

US: Not on the list / FR: #55

The only semi-filler on the list. I still like it a lot. Don’t have anything to say about it, though.

9 - Panini (Lil Nas X)

US: #40 / FR: Not on the list

Wasn’t too impressed by this at first and it took a while to grow on me, but the chorus is a nice little earworm, and “hey panini, don’t you be a meanie” has a tendency to pop in my head when I read hateful comments on the internet now. And Lil Nas X is just too endearing to be ignored. We’re so lucky to have someone who became famous so quickly and instantly decided to dress like a Jojo character and have the geekiest music videos possible and still be super nice and humble. We don’t deserve this guy.

8 - Dance Monkey (Tones And I)

US: Not on the list / FR: #6

I’m super glad the US are finally getting on the hype train in 2020 because this is a ton of fun. If the voice was juuuuuust a little less grating this would be even higher. Impossible to get it out of your head and somehow in this case that’s a good thing.

7 - Dancing With a Stranger (Sam Smith & Normani)

US: #14 / FR: Not on the list

As I said in the honorable mentions, Sam Smith pulled a Viva La Vida and decided to stop making boring music all of a sudden and I couldn’t be happier about that. This song is still a bit too calm for my taste most of the time, but when I’m in the right mood, it’s just fantastic.

Again, I hope Sam Smith continues in that direction, because if you had told me a couple of years ago that I would start to like their stuff one day, I would have laughed out loud.

6 - Bad Guy (Billie Eilish)

US: #4 / FR: #16

Duh.

I’m not as enthusiastic about When The Party’s Over as a ton of people are, mostly because, well, it’s a slow emotional song with little to no colour in it and by now you’re already aware I tend to have next to zero interest in that kind of songs. Bad Guy, on the other hand, is half hilarious half scary in equal doses, and even if I’m not super fond of the weird outro, it’s still a fantastic, weird as shit song, and I’m really glad Billie Eilish exists. Can’t wait to see where she goes from there.

I’m super glad this song didn’t come out when I was a teenager myself though. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I would have survived if the musical landscape from 16 years ago had been as depressed as it currently is. Thank god music is slowly getting more energetic again in 2020. Let’s stay on that track.

5 - Hey Look Ma I Made It (Panic! At The Disco)

US: #61 / FR: Not on the list

I follow several music critics on youtube and over the course of 2019, I’ve seen undiluted vitriol and hatred against this song (Spectrum Pulse even made a list of his “worst hit songs” of the decade and put this one at #10! TEN!!). And... I don’t really get where it’s coming from? Maybe I’m too literal-minded to see what the problem is with a sarcastic song saying “look I sold out and now I found success again! And it’s not that great!”. I just think it’s a lot of fun. Thank god Todd put it on his best list, at least we can agree on one thing for once.

It is hilarious that after putting so many Fall Out Boy songs on my lists, the one that I love the most from Panic! is the sellout song. Not sure why this was huge while the even better Say Amen wasn’t, though.

4 - Sunflower (Swae Lee & Post Malone)

US: #2 / FR: Not on the list

I usually don’t get the “chill” songs that tend to be successful these days but this one, unlike most Post Malone songs (bar Circles), has lovely pastel colors and a cloudy texture and it’s a really good vibe. It took several months to grow on me but it sure did.

In about ten years, people will listen to Sunflower and be submerged by nostalgia, mark my words.

3 - Old Town Road (Lil Nas X)

US: #1 / FR: #1 (see, everyone agrees for once)

Everyone on the planet already wrote a thinkpiece about this song and yet I’ve only seen maybe one out of five mentioning, just in passing, that the entire song is based on a Nine Inch Nail track from Ghosts I-IV, superbly re-used to make a weird and insanely catchy country hip hop song out of it. Ghosts has been one of my go-to albums to listen to while I’m painting for about ten years now. I’m saying all this because hearing a track from Ghosts on the radio for months was absolute bliss for me, especially in a new and improved version.

Thank you Lil Nas X for everything you’ve been doing and I wish you a long and successful career. You deserve it. I love this and I love you.

2 - Bury A Friend (Billie Eilish)

US: #73 / FR: Not on the list

Hello again, Billie Eilish.

This song is absolutely terrifying and that was before I even saw the music video. This is the soundtrack of your nightmares right there. I’m not even sure it deserves to be so high on the list, but frankly I’m too terrified to care. Maybe Old Town Road should be higher. I don’t know.

Also you have to know that when I’m super tired I go into echolalia mode and automatically repeat words or entire sentences that my brain considers interesting, like “potiron” (pumpkin) or “dramatique” ; and recently, my brain decided “when we all fall asleep, where do we go?”, sung exactly like it’s sung in this song, was its new favorite sentence. So. Hearing yourself saying that to an empty room while you’re drawing or folding clothes or cleaning plates is not a very pleasant experience, and it makes this song extra scary to me.

And now, here’s the last #1 of the last one of these lists (for now), and I’m glad to announce it closes this series of posts in a super fitting way.

Check this out. It’s so perfect in every way.

1 - Walk Me Home (Pink)

US: #99 / FR: Not on the list

Nobody seemed to care about this song over the course of 2019, and it's barely elligible, and I still have no idea why. The music reviewers I follow only either talked about it super briefly when it came out, or not at all. The rare ones who were making top 100s at the end of the year instead of top 10s usually put it somewhere in the middle of their lists. And yet it’s the elligible song I’ve listened to the most.

If you’ve been reading this series of posts for a while now, you probably already know exactly why it’s here, but here’s a quick recap.

The second album I ever bought in my life was Pink’s Missundaztood in 2002, and I loved her music a lot:

I was still really fond of her stuff in 2007:

Then she started to become less interesting and I basically ignored her apart from a brief blip on my radar in 2017:

Meanwhile, in 2012, fun. made some of the best songs of the entire decade before vanishing instantly, and I’ve been mourning them ever since:

And in the middle of last year, here I am, listening to the radio, and suddenly I hear something that sounds exactly like a fun. song, except I’ve never heard it before and it’s sung by a female singer, and, most importantly, it’s 2019 and fun. broke up more than six years earlier. And I’m like, what’s going on. This is so good. What the hell. What is this.

And I hear it a second time weeks later, and I google it, and I discovered that 1) it was Pink singing this, which made it my favorite Pink song in literally more than ten years, and 2) it was, indeed, written by one of the guys from fun., among other people who’s influence is less obvious.

I guess the main lesson from 2019, between newcomers making great music based on dead trends, old groups reforming, and this song, is that nothing’s gone forever, and things you used to enjoy can come back at the most unexpected time and in the most unexpected form.

There’s always, always gonna be new music to love, and it’s just a question of time.

Quick note

And with this, these lists are over... for now.

I don’t regret making them even if they were a ton of work, because that was super useful for a lot of different reasons.

They helped me get a better understanding of my own life’s chronology. That may sound stupid but I tend to link events to the music I was listening to at the time, and putting all that music in chronological order helped a lot.

I rediscovered a ton of songs I had completely forgotten about, and a lot of new ones. My playlist is much richer now and I’m happy about that.

I also discovered a few artists I knew nothing about.

It forced me to analyse two depressive episodes in my life and just because everything was now in exact chronological order, it accidentally helped me pinpoint what caused both of them. Better and cheaper than therapy. Impressive.

It made me realise how important some bands and artists had been in my life, and I relistened to some of their catalogue while making these lists. For some it was really obvious (Indochine, Placebo, Mylène Farmer, My Chemical Romance among some others), and for some others (Moby, Linkin Park, Mika in particular), it was a real surprise.

It made me realise that Placebo might have been huge in France but weirdly enough not that huge in the UK nor in the US. It’s especially striking when you look at their wikipedia page in English then in French and realise how detailed the French one is compared to the English one. Can’t believe Sleeping With Ghosts was a n°1 album here and basically nowhere else. That was the band where that discrepency was the most obvious but it wasn’t the only one like that. Really puts stuff in perspective.

It also helped me realise how cyclical popular music is. 1) trends tend to die near the end of every decade and the worst year is usually somewhere between the 8th and the 9th year. 2008 and 2018 tend to confirm this. 2) For the same reason, some new & interesting stuff appears at the beginning of every decade, and reaches its high point of quality between the 2nd and 4th year of the decade. 3) Basically I’m saying we’ve now passed the lowest musical quality in recent memory and 2022-2023 will have some exceptional music.

See you in December 2020. I have no doubt there’s a ton of great music coming up in the near future.

[kingmaker-thac0hno]

An Expected Journey: Part 1

The journal of Evrin Brazenbrook

1 Pharast, 4710 

Today was the day we first set off from Restov, charged with the task of exploring the Greenbelt and to put down any banditry we may encounter. We made it to Nivatka’s Crossing without incident, and though there was not much in the way of conversation, which suits me just fine, my initial sense of Armauk’s and Adnachiel’s suitability for this expedition remains intact. Armauk seems deeply devoted to Erastil, and though I was raised with more of a connection to Gozreh, I admire his apparent conviction. It should serve him well in what I expect to be tough times ahead. Adnachiel is harder to get a read on. Like me, he is quiet, and closed, though not exactly unfriendly. I am most curious about some of his belongings, such as a strange, animated raven that looks like it is made from metal. He also brought two common women, which I found unusual, but he assured us that they would be useful for aiding with some menial tasks in the future. As for Karisathiel, I truly cannot say. Having met him only twice, and including him more because of the tactical loss of Oaken than because of his innate skills, I simply hope that he proves to be different from what I’ve heard about Galtians. In a sense, the four of us are a band of misfits, and while I have spent seven years in Restov, I feel, as the others seem to do, that leaving the city will be a welcome balm to my soul. While on the surface of it, I chose to lead this expedition for “the glory of Restov,” I am not so foolish as to believe that any glory will come from this enterprise. I expect danger and death, but in my heart, I welcome that challenge.

2 Pharast, 4710

The expedition has proceeded without incident thus far, and Armauk has had much success with fishing, noodling for a couple of plump catfish that proved to be surprisingly tasty. Karisathiel has taken to playing his lute quite often, which was initially rather annoying, but has grown on me. While I have never been inclined toward the performing arts myself, seeing them often used as the tools of charlatans, I have realized that few things can help unify a disparate party better than music. By mid-afternoon we found ourselves at Fort Serenko, which was curiously unoccupied. We’d heard that there was usually a garrison of soldiers stationed there, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. I suppose that they may have been dispatched on some pressing business—dealing with bandits, perhaps—but it must be unusual to desert a fort completely, without at least a few soldiers to keep watch. We all found this somewhat troubling, but there was nothing to be done about it, so we pressed on and made camp. If Adnachiel’s charts are correct, we should reach the Greenbelt around midday tomorrow, and Oleg’s Trading Post by late afternoon.

3 Pharast, 4710

Today was eventful, and may have given us a glimpse into the truth of the bandit situation so frequently sensationalized in The Quill. First, we came across a body in the bushes, seemingly looted of all valuables, and missing his ring finger. Armauk showed the purity of his faith by insisting that we bury the body, and all agreed to do so without complaint. Late in the day, we arrived at Oleg’s Trading Post and noticed four unkempt horses outside. As we approached the door, we heard gruff voices talking about taxes Oleg owed to the Stag Lord. This struck us as odd, given that the very nature of the so-called “Stolen Lands” is that there is no government to speak of, and no magistrate to levy taxes. As the situation became increasingly precarious for the proprietors, Armauk bravely entered the trading post, which looked to be a converted fort, and spoke to the four rough individuals inside about their purpose. They insisted that they were collecting their monthly taxes for the Stag Lord, who began the practice one month prior. They seemed to know very little about the purpose of the taxes, nor could they answer any of our questions about the so-called Stag Lord, or indeed, anything else about their purpose. It was clear to all of us by that point that they were bandits, and as Armauk spoke, we slowly advanced, making it clear that we were armed and prepared to act. Tensions were increasing, and weapons were starting to be drawn, when I suddenly lost consciousness. It was a strange sensation, not at all natural, and when I was nudged awake, I saw that all of the bandits were tied up and sleeping. I learned afterward that Adnachiel was able to put people to sleep with a wave of his hand, and while I was quietly infuriated at the personal embarrassment, I was equally grateful that he is of my own party.

When we found that the bandits could give us no further information, we killed and buried them, of course, and talked at length with Oleg and his wife, Svetlana, about their options. We all agreed that more bandits would eventually return, and from information Armauk somehow gleaned from the bandits’ horses, we learned that the main camp was at least a two-day ride away. As such, we figured we had between three and five days before the absence of these bandits (led by one “Happs”) would be noticed, and further bandits would return to investigate or avenge. I proposed that Oleg and Svetlana could abandon their shop and join us, or we could remove all traces of the bandits and have the pair pretend Happs’s crew never arrived, or we could remain at the trading post to shore up defenses and do our best to protect the couple and their livelihood. They chose the latter option, which did seem to make the most sense for us as well. Since Oleg’s Trading Post is within the area granted for our exploration by the charter, it seems like a reasonable base of operations, as it were, and since it is clear that we will need to deal with the “Stag Lord” and his gang at some point anyhow, a fortified position is a strategically sound tactic for the inevitable encounter. We were naturally invited to stay at the trading post, and Oleg and Svetlana were more than grateful for plans to aid with defenses. They seemed surprised that no soldiers had arrived by that point, having sent an acquaintance named Kritoff to Fort Semenko for that express purpose, but we deduced that Kritoff must have been the man we saw on the path earlier in the day. As I put my pen down for the evening, Karisathiel is once again playing his lute—a strange tune about an old woman who is certain that all that sparkles is coin, and who seeks to use said coin to purchase passage to the heavens. It sounds foreboding, and I fear my dreams will be disturbed tonight.

4 Pharast, 4710

Much of the day was spent on bolstering fortifications. Very little of note occurred, other than Adnachiel spending an inordinate amount of time tinkering with broken catapults, and Armauk catching us a sizeable deer for dinner, which Svetlana cooked to perfection. All told, it was a good day.

5 Pharast, 4710

More fortifications. We did, however, have a visitor come from the north. He was quite disheveled, but claimed to be a priest of Erastil who hailed from Galt. Armauk understandably took quite an interest in the man, whose name was Jhod, and had I a lower opinion of the affable half-orc, I might even say he was fawning over the supposed priest. I have mild concerns about him, as he persistently evades questions about his background, save for a repeated assertion that he has been pursuing vivid dreams of a lost temple to his god. According to Armauk, he seems to be highly conversant in the finer points of the Erastil faith, but I remain on guard about possible ulterior motives. Otherwise, we expect we may see more bandits tomorrow, but plan to carry out our expedition’s purpose as best we can while being vigilant.

6 Pharast, 4710

No sign of bandits today. Both Adnachiel and Karisthiel (whom we have begun to call Karis, per his request), sent their “familiars” into the air as lookouts for bandits, while the four of us proceeded to explore and survey the area in the immediate vicinity of the trading post. We found nothing remarkable, save for the beginning of a forested area a few miles due south.

7 Pharast, 4710

I write this entry by firelight, as we are currently camped a few miles to the east of Oleg’s. We surveyed a large swath of generally uninteresting terrain, though came across a particularly surly individual whose name, we presume, is Bokken, based on a description Oleg gave us a few days ago. Bokken had no interest in conversation of any sort, which is his right, and we generally left him alone. While we were setting up camp, Armauk shot a plump boar which he tried to share with the surly hunter, but to no avail. We left him the boar’s head regardless, and have kept a respectful distance. Adnachiel claims to have set several “alarms” that would warn us of any bandit approach, but what exactly he means by that, I cannot say.

8-9 Pharast, 4710

When we returned to Oleg’s yesterday morning, one of Adnachiel’s assistants claimed that she had seen several bandits off in the distance the day before, not far from the tree line. She couldn’t say much about their features from that distance, but she felt they were watching for quite some time. After some brief discussion, Karis and I decided to see if we could pick up a trail…which we did. We followed it for several miles until it entered a forested area that we had yet to explore. The trail was certainly less than a day old, but we were so interested in tracking it as far as we could that we paid little attention to the time of day. By the time the sun was starting to set, Karis and I decided it would be more prudent to make the long journey back to Oleg’s rather than try to camp out in an unfamiliar forest with a presumed bandit encampment somewhere in the unknown vicinity. I cursed my lack of common sense and lack of discipline, and by the time we made it back to Oleg’s early this morning, we were both exhausted. Our fellow party members had been worried about us, though they seemed to understand our reasoning. I slept for the next ten hours, and after an uneventful late afternoon and evening, I write this entry shortly before midnight, trying to will myself to sleep once more. 10 Pharast, 4710

We have decided that it will be more prudent if we refrain from venturing more than a mile from Oleg’s. This means that we cannot do the task we were assigned, but it has given me the opportunity to practice my swordwork for the first time in nearly a fortnight, and also to work with a bow. Fortunately Oleg has a few bows available, and while the weapon was never my strong suit, I expect that it will be useful when there are enemies outside the fort.

11-15 Pharast, 4710

I write merely to note that little has happened over the past four days. A few of the party are getting a little on edge, and Armauk had to forcibly stop Adnachiel from smashing Karis’s lute after he played some song about everyone having “an additional thing arriving” one too many times. Expecting a fight, and the fight not coming does strange things to the mind.

16 Pharast, 4710

Today, the fight came, and I am much relieved to declare at least a temporary victory. I must lack the eloquence of prior writers who can make a battle seem romantic and glorious, because today’s events were anything but. I was grateful to have spent the past few days practicing my bow work, as it was particularly useful today. For much of the conflict I was stationed at the northeast battlement, where I managed to kill at least one bandit and wound another. When the bandits were called to the gate by what seemed to be their leader, I ran as fast as I could in that direction, noticing as I did that Karis was completely out of position, while Jhod was also not where I might have expected. I cannot say what happened during the battle beyond what the others have told me—Adnachiel was able to put the leader to sleep, apparently, and Karis had dispatched her with his magics—but I did manage to slay a couple more bandits with my sword, and from what I could tell, the whole party seems to have availed itself well. If anything, Armauk has won my trust completely, as he was remarkably selfless in helping to heal the wounded, and I heard tell of him preparing to extinguish flaming arrows with his own unique magics. I still can’t quite get a firm read on Adnachiel or Karis, but fighting for a common goal bonds like nothing else—not even music. As I write, we have taken one bandit hostage, while we know that at least two others escaped. We can be assured that more will follow now, perhaps even an insurmountable force, but for the time being we all feel a sense of righteousness that we’ve removed some of the blight that plagues Brevoy, and a sense of relief that we should see the dawn for at least a few more days.

[lezliefaithwade]

David & Goliath

My grandfather, on my Mother's side, immigrated to Canada from Italy in the 1950's. For years I thought I was Italian until one day my Mother explained that her real father (who was Danish) had died when she was seven and that Ralph was actually my grandmother's “companion”. At seven I had no idea what a "companion" was, nor did I care. All that mattered was whether I would inherit his talent for cooking and gardening.  As a child, Italy seemed like a mythical land filled with beautiful palaces and amazing desserts.

When I finally had the opportunity to visit the land of my grandfather's birth, I made it a point to seek out all the places I'd heard about as a child. So, it was, that while I was in Florence, standing in front of the statue of David I was suddenly reminded of an episode in grade 9 when for three solid weeks I was bullied by a fellow student three times my size who I believed would destroy me.

In the Old Testament, the story goes that David, who is just a boy, takes down the 6'9" Goliath with nothing but a sling shot after King Saul, supposedly over 6' himself, is too afraid to challenge the giant on his own.

As I stood there examining the statue, I couldn't help wondering why Michelangelo had sculpted the boy to be so huge when Goliath was the giant?  At 17 feet, David stands three times larger than an average man. Is his size a metaphor for his bravery?

Growing up, I never considered whether I was brave or not until the summer before my thirteenth birthday when my parent's separation marked me (at least in my mind) as an oddity. I was the first one I knew of to come from a broken home, and to me, this was a truly embarrassing fact. I was ashamed of what I perceived to be a major failure on the part of my parents, and worried that everyone would think less of me because of it.  I wanted my family to be idyllic and though they were far from that, at least while we were all under the same roof, I could pretend. To save myself the embarrassment and shame of having to explain to kids I knew why I was no longer living at my old house on Belmont, and instead in an ugly apartment building across town, I opted to attend an all girl’s Catholic high school where no one knew me. For almost three months, I lied about where I lived. I pretended the apartment building I walked to every evening after school was where I babysat someone's kid. I never let on that my parents weren't together or that I was struggling with the reality that they were headed for divorce.

Catholic girl's schools, I soon discovered, harboured two types of young women. Those who longed for small classroom education among a female community of likeminded individuals, and those whose parents were forcing them to attend a school they hoped would reform them. Possibly attending Catholic school was a last resort ordered by the court. In any case, I was soon the target of gang terrorism brought about by answering questions in class – namely in English where I seemed to excel in understanding Shakespeare. Somewhere between The Merchant of Venice and Romeo and Juliet I became the object of abuse. Short and obnoxious, I was an easy target for a small but imposing group of girls who were significantly bigger and louder. The leader of this particular gang of delinquents was an overbearing, unusually tall girl named Susan Podansky. Susan had thick brown curly hair and a large set of yellow teeth that filled her face when she smiled. Not that her smiles were warm and generous. When Susan smiled, there was foreboding in the air.  She reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel licking her chops as she prepared to eat everything in her wake. Her neck was thick, her hands were large and her voice was low. “Guess who’s going to die tonight?” she’d whisper in my ear as I scurried from Math class to Science. The whole time I was dissecting my frog I imagined my innards splayed across the grass beyond the school.

It occurs to me now, many years later and infinitely wiser, that there was nowhere for Susan and her gang to actually pommel me. The school was small and well supervised and the yard was too. Unless their aim was to be caught, there was no way they could beat me up and get away with it. At the time, this logic escaped me. Instead I cowered in classrooms, stayed late for extra help in things I was already excelling at, and volunteered for everything from library duty to bible study. If something needed to be scrubbed, painted, sorted or filed, I signed myself up.

There were rumours going around about Susan and her gang. They set fire to garbage cans. They stole from variety stores. One of them had a friend who’d been decapitated on the roller coaster at Crystal Beach. Each story was more shocking than the one before. What started out as careful avoidance, turned into full blown terror.

Ironically, I’d known Susan in grades 3 and 4 when I had attended Holy Family elementary. I was not Catholic, but the school was close to our house and my mother deemed it more convenient than the public school that was a good deal further away. My parents were never concerned about what rubbed off on us. During the day I learned about the Virgin Mary and the Holy Ghost and after school my mother played Rock and Roll albums and allowed me to read, Mad Magazine, and Creepy comics. Susan had been in my class back then. She was already bigger than the rest of us, but harmless. Once she even invited me to her house. I remember her mother was pleasant enough as she cooked something in the kitchen that smelled foreign and delicious.  Most of the kids at Holy Family were Irish or Italian, but Susan was Polish. To me that made her exotic. But then again, I was the daughter of Wasps attending a Catholic school. Everything was exotic to me. In the two years we shared a classroom at elementary school, we’d never clashed. In fact, in a childish act of solidarity, we both called Mrs. Flint, a substitute teacher, Mrs. Flintstone and were called to the office. We were equally contrite and that was the end of that. What prompted this new vitriol, aside from a seemingly innocent love for Shakespeare, I’ll never know. Whatever it was, her threatening demeanour was scary and all consuming.

At home, my mother couldn’t help but notice that I was at school later than usual. I’d enter the hallway out of breath, eat dinner, then retreat to bed. After a week of this she coaxed the truth out of me with cupcakes and before I knew what I’d said, she was on the warpath. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I’d been warned by Susan that if I snitched on her, she’d make my life even more miserable. I begged my mother to leave it alone, but she was determined. My mother had lived with an abusive step-father for a time before Ralph, and bullying wasn’t something she tolerated.

The next day I was called down to Sister Rita Mary’s office where two seats were arranged in front of her desk. I could see from half a mile away that large head of messy hair belonging to Susan. I timidly entered and sat down next to her. Sister Rita Mary smiled, “It’s come to my attention that there has been some nuisance between the two of you.”

Nuisance? Between the two of us? I could see where this was heading.

“It’s my belief that you just don’t know each other well enough, so my solution to this misunderstanding is to arrange for you to sit next to each other in all of your classes from now on.” Then, with a smile on her face she dismissed us from her office and closed the door.

Susan grinned, “This oughta be fun,” she announced. “Guess who’s gonna have a funeral?” And then she galumphed off to class.

Sitting beside Susan was excruciating. In math she broke my pencils. In English she poured ink on my assignment. But it was art class where she really crossed the line. I’d been working on a painting for several weeks and had almost completed my masterpiece when she and her gang “accidentally” spilled paint all over the canvas. “Oh, sorry!” she feigned, and then left me to absorb what had just happened while the teacher insisted I stay and clean up the mess.

Two other girls in my class – Vicki and Sarah shook their heads in disgust. “This can’t continue.” they stated. “That girl has to be stopped.”

“I agree,” I muttered as I crawled about the class on my knees cleaning tempra paint off the floor, “But how?”

That afternoon at lunchtime the three of us hunkered down at a table in the cafeteria to eat. No sooner had we settled when Susan came bounding over, knocked my tray off the table proclaiming me a moron and warning, “Better watch yourself tonight.”

I could feel my face flush and the bile rise in my mouth. I’d learned one thing from comic books, and that was how things were never what they seemed. The meek were often strong. The strong were often scared and bullies could be undermined. Before I knew it, Sarah was standing.

“What did you say?” she asked her.

For a moment I saw Susan blanch. She was shocked. This was unexpected. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“You heard her, " Vicki demanded, also now standing. They looked like two Davids' to Susan's Goliath.

"What's wrong with the baby?" Susan taunted, "Needs other people to stand up for her?"

"No," I said rising to my feet, "I can stand up for myself."

She hesitated. Everyone was looking at us. Even the lunchroom nun was staring in disbelief.

“You'd better watch yourself.” Susan growled just low enough for my table to hear.

“Or what?” I asked

Susan just stared at me.

“Or what?” I repeated, “You’ll kill me? Beat me up? Hit me? Bury me? Why wait until tonight? Come on. Get it over with. Do it. Come on. You want to hit me? Hit me.” I was on a roll. Words were ammunition from my slingshot and I was on the attack. Next thing I knew, Vicki and Sarah chimed in.

“Yeah,” they echoed, “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”  

Susan blinked. The cafeteria was eerily quiet. All eyes were on us.

“You’re not worth it,” Susan grunted, as she backed out of the lunchroom alone. And that, was the end of that.

For a moment, I felt 6' tall knowing that I had faced my biggest fear and somehow come out the better for it.

Vicki turned to me, "One Goliath down." she smiled. "Listen, I'm having a sleep-over this Friday. Ask your parents if you can come?"

This was the moment. If I could stand up to Susan, I would finally have the courage to say, "Just have to ask my Mom. My folks are separated."

I waited for the judgement that never came. Instead she simply said, "Cool. I'm adopted. Come by at 7:00."

[renegade-skywalker]

Out of the Abyss, Chapter 18

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2  / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18: Hedging Bets

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Now in transit, Mission and Erebus head towards the next leg of their journeys while Brianna comes to the final chapter on hers... for now.

Also found on AO3 | fanfiction.net

3951 BBY, Hyperspace Mission

“I need you to get to Coruscant as quickly as possible, or anywhere Mid-Rim if you can,” Carth was near manic now, his nerves apparent even on the hologram, “Did you get a good look at the ship?”

“It’s a Star Forge Centurion-class battlecruiser, that’s for sure,” Orex replied, arms crossed and voice gruff as usual, “Though it looked pretty beat up. Not sure how that thing was still in orbit.”

“What’s on Coruscant, Carth?” Mission asked, already impatient, “I don’t even have anything to deliver to Bastila, the Exile still has the… erm, the package, or whatever it is.”

“I realize that, but I need you to get as far away from the Outer Rim as possible, do you hear me?” Carth said, almost reprimanding, concern coloring his face. Mission wanted to make fun of him for it but instead bit her lip and let the amusement wash over her, a pleasant change from the panic that had otherwise taken over.

“Not to butt in here, but we had orders to rendezvous on Dantooine,” Zayne cut in, “I don’t know exactly how this little operation worked before Draay had me take over, but the rest of my crew’s at the old temple, and if these Sith are looking for something specific-”

“They’re looking for something specific alright,” Carth said, “The Exile.”

The room fell silent as Mission, Orex and Zayne all exchanged glances, waiting for Carth to continue but finding that he wasn’t about to award their patience just yet.

“But-” Mission began, looking at both Zayne and Orex before turning to Carth again, “Isn’t she headed for you?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Carth replied, sighing, shoulders slumping slightly at the admission. The man needed sleep, Mission knew that much, but wasn’t sure if he’d get any. None of them had. “We lost contact with the Harbinger a couple of hours ago. We’ve heard nothing since.”

There was only silence and dread. Mission didn’t want to look at the others, her gaze fixed on Carth as he watched on anxiously, and she knew it killed him to appear too vulnerable. But what with Revan gone and everything going south...

“This is no coincidence,” Zayne assured them suddenly, taking on an air of authority that wasn’t wholly out-of-character but still jarring, as if things weren't dire enough, “But I still say we head to Dantooine. It’s enough out of the way for us to disappear while things blow over. If anything, our heading compared to the Harbinger may confuse them, if they’re still chasing her.”

“The Exile was last seen with us, I’m sure of it,” Mission said, “I’m pretty sure we were followed for at least part of the way in the market, and if anyone thought to keep tabs on us after-”

Carth nodded though not quite in agreement, more like he was thinking things over, considering all possibilities.

“That might work,” he eventually said, a hand stroking his bearded chin, the streaks of grey even visible in his holo-double. “It might be our only option, given how much time has passed.”

They had jumped to hyperspace as soon as they were in range, but even then they had only just jettisoned to the nearest feuling depot. Zayne’s shuttle was already sputtering by the time they’d cleared the Nespis moon, and even now it was rumbling unnervingly beneath them as they talked things over.

“If you do go to Dantooine, make it quick,” Carth conceded after another moment of consideration, “If these Sith are looking for any remaining Jedi, they just might head there first.”

Zayne nodded, understanding, his expression grim. Carth nodded again and without another word signed off, the space where his holo-shadow had been now strangely empty, the room oddly quiet.

“So I guess we’re going to pick up our original shipment after all?” Mission asked, turning to Zayne now, who was running a hand through his hair.

“Looks like it,” Zayne let out an uneasy breath, and turned to Orex, “And if we’re lucky, maybe a little extra. Y’all along for the ride?”

“To the end,” Orex affirmed, hand on his blaster as if the man were swearing an oath. His good eye turned on Mission, and she couldn’t help but nod in return.

“To the end,” she said, wishing she had a drink to toast the sentiment with. A strong one.

------------------------------

3951 BBY, Hyperspace Erebus

“May I ask why you’re so keen on Dantooine, Master?” Erebus sneered, uncomfortable with the amount of strangers on his ship and the circumstances under which they were all here. Mical was still looking meek, though more-so by choice than by nature, strategically shrinking himself into the background by remaining quiet and compliant. On the other hand, Master Vash wouldn’t stop examining every corner of Erebus’s ship, but not with any innate curiosity, something more like an insatiable impatience.

“The visions said as much,” she responded, absently examining every surface still, unsatisfied with what she’d found.

“Right, obviously,” he murmured, sighing as he collapsed into his desk chair. “When you’re ready to give me some real answers, just let me know.”

Master Vash shot him a glare.

“Judging by the… items in your possession, I would say you’re not one to judge.”

“Yet here you are doing just that, judging. I don’t answer to you anymore, Lonna, nor do I follow the will of the Council as you may very well guess,” Erebus mocked, waving a hand about at his cargo hold, “And let’s be fair, no matter whose side I’m on, this is still my. ship.”

It all felt surreal. Sleep deprivation and pure exhaustion would have otherwise wrecked him, but now he was running purely on the now-potent fumes of fear and anger, almost egging himself on as Lonna Vash explored his stores without express permission. He could live off his fear for long enough, but it was the anger ran through him like adrenaline. His eyes would glow a molten yellow if he was forced to keep it up, as he knew from experience, fading only when the aggravation faded… or when he let it. Lonna flashed him another glare, and limped toward him.

“This is as much a shock to me as it is to you,” she admitted, setting herself down slowly on one of Erebus’ unopened cargo crates across the room from him, her eyes intent on holding his gaze as she spoke, “I am only here because the Force wills it.”

Erebus rolled his eyes before he began nursing his right temple with a thumb and forefinger, “Why am I not surprised?”

What else did the Force have in store for him? He could scoff at the idea, despite the mounting evidence.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Lonna laughed a hollow laugh, her expression dark, “Trust me.”

Erebus’ hand dropped from his head and into his lap, both hands now forming clenched his fists - attempting to control his anger, temper it, lest Master Vash get another snippet of his thoughts unwillingly - before releasing all tension by spreading his fingers wide again, like a blooming flower. No electricity prickled at his fingertips with the movement. He breathed, relieved, but continued to watch on as Master Vash made herself comfortable with a wary gaze. Lonna closed her eyes, inhaling slowly as she let the weight off of her bad leg. Erebus glanced down but saw nothing other than the cloth of her pants and the edge of her boot, seemingly intact, only extending to just above the ankle. Whatever injury plagued her it was an old one, her appearance otherwise unruffled.

“Let’s start at the beginning shall we?” Erebus smiled sourly, sending a wayward glance at his desk and the onyx pyramid that stood there, its dark energy radiating. He wondered if Lonna Vash could feel it too.

“As you know, I was one of the Jedi that judged your sister some nine years ago,” she began, pulling no punches.

Erebus nodded, remembering the news clear as crystal. He had been both enthralled and horrified when Atris told him. Elated to hear that his sister had been dealt due judgement for her actions, for rebelling, but devastated to hear what had become of her, to hear of the shell of herself that she had become. He could feel the hollowness of her cheeks, could see the dark circles wreathing her eyes, sense the sallowness of her skin, the ache in her heart and in her chest and her bones. And to hear Atris deliver the news with such righteous surety, with a fire in her eyes he was certain could not be sated, it broke him. Even as a nemesis, Eden was more worthy of her attention than Aiden, Atris’ own student. It was no wonder he fell not long after that, letting a bloody brawl in an alley of a backwater metropolis lead him down the path he was still currently headed on… granted Nihilus didn’t kill him for it.

“I had my doubts then, as I’m sure Atris might have told you.” Master Vash said this was absolution, and Erebus nodded again. He remembered Atris’ rant, her angered words as she paced the Jedi Archives in retelling the trial in its entirety before him as he tried to catalogue their latest shipment of ancient scrolls.

“Yet you still voted in favor of her exile,” Erebus mused, “Curious.”

Vash sighed, “This is true. Though I will admit, it was in part due to my trust in Master Kavar. He seemed quick to judge her, his own student.”

Wrong, Erebus thought. Kavar had nearly become Eden’s Master, before he chose a seat on the Council over her. In that regard, Erebus had always been happy that his sister had some inkling of what it felt like for your mentor to favor another protege over you, even though Kavar chose the Jedi as a whole over Eden instead of a single student, as Atris had with her, before realizing Eden would rebel against everything she believed in.

“I doubt it means anything to you, but that single decision haunted me for years,” Vash said, closing her eyes for a moment before saying anything further, “Zez-Kai Ell as well. He believed we should have explored her abilities, allowed her a full trial. I think he was right, and I know I wasn’t the only one, eventually. But none of us did anything about it. We lived with our choices and then moved on. Until Revan came… again.”

“Again?”

“You’ve undoubtedly heard the story, or some version of it,” Lonna continued, a wry smile spiriting over her lips “Revan is betrayed by Malak and suddenly becomes an agent of the Light again? A tool of the Jedi?”

Erebus shook his head. He’d heard of Revan’s change of heart, but among the Sith the nature of her new allegiance was glossed over, likely due to Malak’s attempt at keeping the remaining Sith under his power in line, a haphazard effort of turning those who followed solely for Revan into loyal followers of whoever held the Sith mantle.

“An interesting story at that, and none that would paint the Jedi too kindly.”

Mical appeared in the doorway now, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, locking eyes with Erebus before he said, “We’re on course for Dantooine, alright. We should arrive within the day.”

“Excellent,” Lonna said, “You should be happy.”

Mical balked, looking at Erebus again before continuing.

“Erm… me?”

Lonna laughed knowingly, but didn’t elaborate.

“You arrived just in time for a history lesson,” Erebus greeted, extending a hand towards another unoccupied cargo container, “I heard you were a fan. Take a seat.”

Heard. More like pried into his mind and extracted, Erebus thought. Though best to assert dominance where he could, especially now with another Force user on board. Mical scowled but did as Erebus said, his wary gaze shifting between Erebus and Lonna, looking the opposite of relaxed once he sat down.

“As you were saying,” Erebus said, directed at Master Vash now, “Revan, the Jedi tool.”

Mical sighed and mouthed a silent ah, as if he knew the story, watching Master Vash with some mild intent despite sensing Erebus’ latent bitterness.

“I won’t go into detail, though perhaps I will later, if you have a mind,” she said, as if silently making fun of Erebus, a Sith, for not knowing the true nature of Revan’s sudden change of allegiance. “But it didn’t sit well with me, nor did it sit well with Zez-Kai Ell. Though I wouldn’t have long to discuss it at length with him. Or anything else for that matter.”

Erebus waited, watching Master Vash, noting the dark coloring of her robe, the streaks of grey in hair, yet the sharpness that never seemed to leave her eyes despite the pain she was in, even while sitting.

“And not long after Revan’s change of heart, Jedi continued to go missing. What I mean to say is that Jedi had been disappearing since the beginning of the civil war, undoubtedly in part to Revan’s influence. But even while Revan was being watched by the Jedi it continued, much as it had before, but this time under Malak. And then once Malak was defeated, things were quiet for a while. Until it started happening again, six months ago. Though, I have a feeling you may know what’s behind that.” Erebus remained silent for a moment, mulling it all over. He had been one of those first missing Jedi, gone rogue once the civil war broke out.  Recruited by Revan, though not personally, just a remnant of a program she had put in place. But he hadn’t turned out of love for Revan. In fact, he still felt the opposite, even all these years later.

“I’m curious as to how you can say that with such surety,” Erebus drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“As much as it may seem the contrary, I am not here to accuse you,” Lonna continued, “Your Master is the key to the missing Jedi, yes, but there is oh, so much more to it than that.”

“This is where the visions come in, I take it?” Erebus asked, almost accusing. He wasn’t sure where Master Vash was going with this, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“As a matter of fact yes,” she said, standing again now, “As well as your visions.”

Mical looked between the two of them, unsure of what was unfolding and unsure of whether he wanted any part in it. Erebus’ gaze remained fixed on Lonna, who now stood over him with her arm outstretched.

“Let me see the artifact,” she said quietly, and Erebus knew exactly what artifact she meant. “He might need to see it, too.”

She glanced at Mical, surprised again to be acknowledged.

“Then you might want to show us what you uncovered back at that temple.”

------------------------------------

3951 BBY, Citadel Station Atton

Atton eyed the Pazaak table, still unsure.

Nursing his second drink, he tried his best not to watch the gambling but failed, keeping a keen eye on each player’s hands, looking for even the slightest movement in the eyes, a blink or a twitch, a tap of the knuckles, a twinge in a lekku strung over a shoulder. Instead he feigned to appear nonchalant, bored almost, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t tempted to go at it himself.

You’re a natural, his father would say. A shame you can’t teach me how you do it.

He’d tried, once or twice, but his father’d been slow to read others, too preoccupied with showing off and making a show than anything else. Atton had tried getting him to look at the smaller details, teaching him how to read the other players and how to keep track of the numbers in his head. But Atton was shit at explaining things, and his father was shit at listening. Plus, if Atton couldn’t help his father cheat at cards, there was no reason for him to stick around, no reason for his dad to pity him and let him pocket some of his winnings before being shooed back home to his hovel where his mom would be waiting, with credits if he was lucky.

He hadn’t yet decided if Atton was the type to gamble, the sort of man to place his bets. It was gambling that got him into this mess in the first place, the reason why he decided to saddle up with the Peragus mining outfit to settle his debts. Jaq had been an amazing gambler, gambling often and recklessly with his life and his money. But the aliases that came after had varying luck, and his last one dealt the worst hand of the bunch.

His fingers itched, his brain already busy counting, singling out the victors before the game was even half over. Even if he didn’t play, he could still turn a credit on backing a winner alone. But that was still betting, wasn’t it?

Atton downed his drink, at least certain that this Atton Rand was a drinker. He could play Pazaak games in his head if he wished, but conjuring the effects of juma was something else entirely. Maybe if he could somehow figure out how to more effectively numb himself - his thoughts, his feelings, his regrets, and daresay his fears - then maybe he could manage foregoing it. For now, the alcohol was necessary. Very necessary.

As if reading his mind, or at least craving the credits, the bartender slipped his empty drink out of one hand and slid a full one into his other. Too thankful to be dumbfounded, Atton only nodded and began sipping again, trying not to eye the Pazaak table now, as if were a challenge.

How long can you go before you slip? He thought bitterly, How long does it take for the memories to creep back? For the guilt to set in?

Sneering at no one, Atton turned to the other side of the bar, now in full view of the performing band and the throng of the dancing crowd beyond. Despite a lack of skill, he could lose himself in there. If he downed another drink or three, he could disappear, dissolve until he was nothing but sweat and heavy breathing, the beat thrumming in time with his pulse as if it was all he was born and bred for. It was either that or waste away in his designated apartment, surfing the spice channels until something worse came his way…

But what he really wanted was… sky. Space and sky. And stars.

He’d applied for a delivery rotation with Peragus, not knowing they weren’t the type of outfit to take position requests. They were full up on delivery pilots, booked with ship outfitters and repairmen, no need for a single worker having anything to do with their incoming, outgoing or out-of-commission vehicles or even a position with even a sliver of a view of the wrecked asteroid field and the stretch of space it hung precariously in. But they were in constant need of miners, considering the hazard pay and all - not that the money made up for the mortality rate. Which Atton took as a challenge after considering it. But as much as he might deserve death, he was a survivor, above all else. And he'd yet to change his mind.

The view was shit here on Citadel Station, the window outside the cantina offering little else other than countless finger smudges on the duraglass that separated the station from the inhospitable atmosphere outside, but it sure as hell beat the view from Atton’s room. Maybe he’d meander the station for a while, clear his head, and try to forget about Pazaak, about his debts, about his father, his past…

He downed the rest of his drink and began rummaging through his jacket pocket for credits, only for the bartender to stop him. The bartender held up a hand as the droid beside him tendered credits from a woman across the bar, her pink skin aglow as she winked at him and nodded, biting her lip as she shooed him off, assuring Atton silently that she’d cover his tab.

Atton paused, unsure if he’d ever seen the Zeltronian woman before and if he’d ever made a pass at her, or worse, owed her money, her gesture more of a threat than one of good will in hopes of a future rendezvous. Or perhaps she was just an interested patron, hoping to catch a man drunk enough to dance.

He doubted it, but Atton nodded in return all the same, brows furrowing as he turned to leave, his limbs suddenly leaden with the movement. Atton shot the woman one last glance, her eyes still on him as he retreated from the bar, a strand of crimson hair falling into one of her eyes as she watched him leave, gaze unwavering. Atton froze. Normally, he wouldn’t walk away from an invitation, but this one seemed… strange. He hadn’t been looking to shack up with anyone, but more than that, he felt as if this gesture came with strings attached, though still unseen. So he thought it best to cut ties while he still can, acting as if he’d always meant to leave, regardless if this woman wanted him to stay or not.

He turned back again, eyes fixed on the cantina’s exit, knowing the entire time that he was being watched. Atton scanned the space with his peripheral vision, careful not to linger on any one person for too long, uneasy as he made his way back to his sad excuse for a room. He glanced at the duraglass, hungry for some slice of sky, but the air outside was instead full of a thick, grey smoke, billowing in stacks just beyond the window.

“Ain’t that a metaphor if there ever was one,” Atton murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets, already hungry for the empty black of sleep.

-------------------------------------

3951 BBY, Hyperspace The Last Handmaiden

Fire. All she could see was fire. A blue-hot flame at the core of the galaxy, burning, burning… burning bright in the center of a black hole, time warping around it in a way she could not explain only… feel. It echoed within her, the very core of her, somehow, commuting its existence without words, before disappearing entirely. And then… she was in a room, but asleep, suspended in something but not swimming, unaware of what was around her other than the lukewarm liquid that made her skin tingle as if she were drenched in menthol, cool and warm at once. She could feel lights shudder out, one by one by one, before the darkness settled in, like a ship overhead, eclipsing the sun, much as it had back on Nespis VIII, back when-

Brianna woke with a start, fever in full swing. When she opened her eyes, the world was black static, the ship around her slowly coming into focus as the sounds around her grew to a low murmur, then a gentle hum, like an engine running. Only… there was an engine running beneath her. The ship… Her hands grasped at the sheets she was wrapped in, her palms pressed against the thin mattress as if to confirm that she could feel the engine running somewhere beneath her, that she was on a ship, that she was no longer in the Jedi Temple on Nespis VIII…

The last she remembered she was running through a room full of bodies, either dead or about to fall, and a man… a most familiar man…

“You’re finally awake,” Arianna’s voice floated into the room from nearby. Brianna swung to meet the sound but found herself dizzy, her vision swimming. “Sit, sister. Sleep.”

She could hear her sister cross the room and set herself down beside her, the weight of her body shifting the mattress slightly.

“I’m surprised we got you out of there,” Arianna continued bitterly, “If there were any time to lose consciousness, that was not it.”

Brianna was too weak to reply, though her mind knew she was in the right, that she had acted accordingly, though… how did she know? Her memory was fuzzy, though part of her knew something wasn’t right, something hadn’t added up back at the temple. But she was in no state or test her theories, and no state to trust her own judgment or recollections…

Brianna tried to will herself awake, though her vision was fading again. With Arianna at her side, the blue-hot flame from her dreams formed again in her central vision, though her sister’s hand on hers anchored her to the here and now, an image transfixed like a ghost in the room that only Brianna could see.

“Your fever should break, before we arrive,” Arianna said, resting her other hand on Brianna’s burning forehead for a moment before pulling away. “And Mistress says you’ve done well, for now,” Arianna continued, almost cooing, as if Brianna were still a child needing coaxing before bedtime. Brianna wanted to glare at her, but another part of her shrunk away, ashamed as always, wondering what she could have done to do better, to be better, allowing the dream-image of the flame and the pressing dark of sleep close in around her.

Mistress had trusted Brianna with her initial mission after all - her first foray into the galaxy alone, without her sisters, without supervision. It was nice, for a change, but temporary. Only temporary.

And with that, Brianna drifted back into a fitful half-sleep, filled to the brim with dreams and visions, and the unending black at the edges of space.

---------------------------------

3951 BBY, Citadel Station Atton

Atton had never ridden a swoop bike, but now he was betting on one. He’d approached the table with an intention of hitching a ride, of at least bartering with the bookie to let him take one for a spin. But it was a no-go. It was all bets or nothing, and unfortunately, Atton had the credits to spare.

He started small - five credits. Then ten… then fifteen… but he stopped at twenty. Managed to stop at twenty, giving himself hell for it after forking over the last of his pocket money. He’d intended the cash to pay for juma and juma alone, and it was the lack of drink in him that convinced him to stop betting. And it was on his last bet that he actually won.

No. Not again. Not now.

As soon as the cash prize was doled out, Atton strode to the bar, making sure to turn his back to the swoop den tucked in the corner, lest he find himself itching to place another wager.

“Come here often?” a voice cooed in his ear as he finally edged into a seat as its previous owner edged out of it.

Atton glanced sidelong at the voice’s owner - the Zeltronian. Again.

“I take it you know the answer to that,” he replied darkly, taking a sip of his drink, the heat of it slithering down his throat, “And I take it you must come here often enough to notice.”

“I only take notice of those worthy of my attention,” she smiled, the pointed edges of her incisors peering out over the edge of her red-painted bottom lip. Atton doubted that, about to abandon his newfound seat to find a table somewhere, one without unoccupied chairs - but the woman stopped him, a manicured hand caressing his chest until he sat back down again.

“Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not interested,” Atton said without breaking his gaze, downing his glass and placing it on the bar with purpose.

“Who said I’m selling anything?”

Atton narrowed his eyes and glanced at the swoop bike den, at the pazaak tables in the corner, thinking only of the debt he owed. Shaking his head, he stood back up despite the Zeltronian’s hand still placed gingerly on his chest, though he knew an old version of himself would gladly take her up on her offer - whatever it was.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” was all Atton said before walking off.

He craved another drink, or maybe three, but he didn’t like the feel of this. In another life, Atton would have taken any offer handed to him, and in another, he would only do it if he deemed it worthy of his time, depending on his mood. He might have flirted a bit more back at the bar but still… he knew a swindler when he saw one, and even an afternoon with a plaything wasn’t worth it. Not that Atton had the interest for such a thing anymore, anyway.

Without thinking, he’d walked himself to the shuttle depot, watching as countless ships docked and undocked, and undoubtedly argued with the port authority on landing codes from the comfort of their own cockpits. Maybe soon he’d transfer to a shipping unit, managing cargo to and from the mining facility. Maybe his transfer request would be granted once he returned from his annual leave. One year down, four more to go. He sighed, knowing his luck didn’t run that thick.

With nowhere else but the bar to haunt, Atton considered grabbing a bite before ultimately settling on the idea of sleeping. Like a ghost he wandered the station, wondering how in the ‘verse he landed with this sorry lot this time. Well, at least I’m not dead, he thought, keying in the code for his sorry excuse for a company apartment, eager to toe off his boots and dive head first into the lumpy bed assigned to him for the week being. But when the doors to the module slid open, a woman was waiting for him at the small sitting area, a blaster in her hand.

“I really just wanted to talk, Atton,” she said at the sight of him, running a nail along the white leather of the chair she sat in, and tsked casually before continuing, “Now look what you’ve made me do.”