#for context they are: almost seven and three years old

[mxwhore]

this was a request made by my friend @elinekeit that naturally evolved into an epic, multiple entry saga. enjoy!

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[forestdeath1]

Magnum Opus or Great Work: Alchemical Codes in "Harry Potter"

"I've never wanted to be a witch, but an alchemist, now that's a different matter. To invent this wizard world, I've learned a ridiculous amount about alchemy." JKR. By the way, it seems JKR never became an alchemist because you can't be that evil an alchemist, Joanne. Something went wrong.

The first part about Lily and James

Voldemort – an occult alchemist, Lucifer. Snape – a Seeker who chose the wrong Path. Dumbledore – Keeper of the Tower. Hermione – Hermes Trismegistus. Harry, Hermione and Ron – the three principles for creating the Philosopher's Stone.

Alchemy is the universal path of spiritual transformation. In a literal sense, universal, this code is practically everywhere–from ancient myths and the Bible to the philosophy of Nietzsche (though in his understanding) and Jung's books. Harry Potter himself is a complete alchemist's path, but there's also a well-displayed second path–the path of the occult alchemist.

True alchemy tells us that God is in everything, like a seed present in every person. Through alchemical transformation, a person can be reborn – and become golden, divine, immortal.

Many famous people were fascinated by these ideas – from Newton to Goethe, from Walter to Mozart. Yes, Walter and Mozart were freemasons, but freemasonry is built on the Magnum Opus, it's its foundation. Who has seen the opera The Magic Flute? A completely masonic opera: the surface layer was for the people, and the deeper layer – for the spiritual elite of that time. In this opera, the power of love transforms people and makes them divine. Oh, it seems to resemble Harry Potter, hehe... Harry Potter also has two layers – one as a fairytale about a wizard for teenagers, the other – for those who can "feel" the symbols, even without knowing them.

Each symbol can be interpreted in several ways, that's the complexity of alchemical symbolism. For example, Albus Dumbledore. He symbolizes (in JKR's own words) Spirit ( he's white), and Rubeus Hagrid – Soul (red) – and they're both like two fatherly figures for Harry, distant and warm, judicious and understanding. But all this is at the character level. Dumbledore has other meanings – much more important ones. As I've said before, the symbolic level and the character level are different levels. In interpreting symbols, you don't need to interpret every line, you need to take the context as a whole. Characters operate on one level, symbols – on another.

So, alchemy is an extension of the universal idea – to be reborn, you need to "die." Like Jesus died on the cross, Orpheus on the banks of the River Gebre, and Osiris in the coffin prepared by Typhon, in alchemy, until all the elements (parts of the old personality) die, the work cannot be completed.

The stages of this alchemical process can be traced in the lives of almost all world "heroes" and in the mythology and legends of many cultures. This is a universal code.

“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again” John 3:3

Alchemy proclaims that without decomposition, the Great Work cannot be accomplished.

The past Self dies on the cross and in the retorts and becomes black during decomposition. The new Self rises from hell, like a phoenix. The phoenix is a pure alchemical symbol.

This is the creation of the Philosopher's Stone.

It is symbolically described in "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz". The book presents an allegorical story divided into "Seven Days" or "Seven Journeys," which tells how its author, Christian Rosenkreutz, was invited to a castle full of wonders to help with the "Chymical Wedding" of the king and queen. Harry also receives a letter in a storm (like Rosenkreutz) and goes to the castle for 7 years, chooses one of the four paths (Gryffindor), and so on.

Alchemists called the creation of the Philosopher's Stone the Great Work – Opus Magnum. This process consisted of three stages: decomposition (nigredo), rebirth (albedo), and final perfection (rubedo). Each of these stages corresponded to a specific colour: black, white and red.

Nigredo. Albedo. Rubedo.

In Harry Potter, these stages correspond to Sirius Black, Albus (white) Dumbledore, and Rubeus (red) Hagrid. The end of each stage is marked by their death. In the seventh book, it's Hagrid who carries the "dead" Harry.

There is a fundamental difference between "true alchemists" and "occult alchemist."

Tom Riddle is an occult alchemist. For him, the Great Work is also self-creation, but what kind? For him, it is complete mastery of his abilities and his future, and especially the complete liberation of his will.

Tom is a will, but his will not submissive to the will of God. It's a Luciferian will. The will of a fallen angel who began to oppose his own free will to the influence of Divine Love-Light. Instead, he sought and loved his own power outside Divinity, in himself.

"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven" John Milton, "Paradise Lost"

Baphomet, or the Sabbatic Goat, drawing by Eliphas Levi, on its hands are inscriptions "Solve et Coagula." This is an alchemical principle. JKR, by the way, also has such a tattoo.

In occultism, it is believed that magic is control of one's will, and a will can control matter. After all, what did his followers choose for their motto? Magic is Might. Harry never defeated Voldemort with such magic. Because he doesn't need it.

What does Tom boast about? Tom boasts that he has mastered the deepest depths of dark magic. He went so far in it as no one before. Dark magic requires an iron will, and Tom achieved incredible heights in it. He even achieved immortality in this material universe, literally cursing his soul! Only Tom doesn't understand that Dumbledore (a true alchemist) is not interested in all this. Because true immortality is not there. True transformation is not there. Because their paths are completely different – Dumbledore is going to the "God and divine immortality," and Tom is going to "material immortality."

In general, fans of occult alchemy, the Left-Hand Path, and Nietzschean philosophy probably consider Tom a much more interesting character because here he is – the king of matter, a man of incredible will and strength who destroys the slave Christian morality and proclaims that God is dead, long live the Übermensch (homo superior)! (Nietzsche would have been proud of him…) By the way, Bellatrix is most likely symbolically – Lilith, Adam's first wife according to Kabbalistic apocrypha, who rebelled against Adam. God created them equal, and Adam wanted to have power over Lilith... In short, Lilith is the first feminist in human history, hehe.

The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel. Lilith.

In short, Tom Riddle is such an adept of broken alchemy. Where Tom is his own personal will, Harry is Faith and the will of the Spirit. Harry is also very strong-willed, but his will is different, it's not individualistic. It's a will of sacrifice, a will of love, a will of mercy, a will of trust. The main theme of the seventh book is a crisis of faith. And what kind of will does one need to show to continue the quest for Horcruxes and not go for the Deathly Hallows? Simply put, the will of Harry and Tom is completely different.

And Tom will never understand this. He's an individualist. He's a Nietzschean Übermensch. He's reached the limits of human capabilities. But for what? From dust you are and to dust you shall return, Tom...

Severus Snape — a Seaker who chose the wrong Path

And Snape, by the way, initially turns away from Lily (Lily is love of God, represented in the world). Because he's obsessed with becoming dark magic, his ego and desire for secret knowledge and being proud are very great.

Btw, Lily is a mudblood. In the sense that God is not in shining beautiful armor. This is Lucifer's mask – to be pure, to shine, to sparkle. But the real God can be found by seeking, under the feet of the poorest and "dirtiest" person. After all, for God, everyone is equal. It's the Devil who divides.

And pure-bloods, for example, the Blacks, are "false purity." Luciferian purity. Material purity, purity of shining gold. It's division. And where there's division – there's the Devil.

In short, Snape turns away from Lily because this path is difficult, he doesn't understand how to approach her, he already uses dark magic, has a lot of knowledge, and delves into various secrets, and shows what "bad" paths other seekers (the Marauders) take... (The seeker is not my term, it's from the Rosicrucian manifesto, alchemists call themselves seekers) But Lily still refuses to unite Spirit and Soul. And he calls her a "mudblood," insulting her. For Lily, this is a sign that this soul is almost lost. And there's no sincere regret in him when he asks for forgiveness. He asks her to forgive him, but his soul is still on the old Path. Lily isn't angry with him, it's not about anger or offense. Snape's soul is almost lost at this moment, closed to the divine spark and love. After all, for love to enter your heart, you first need to open yourself to it.

Only when Snape sees true face of Tom's "alchemy," in which Tom is ready to kill Love, the divine spark, essentially kill God in the souls of all people, then Snape, as a real Seeker, realizes that he's going the wrong way... And he runs to the main Alchemist, Dumbledore, to ask to preserve this love, this manifestation of God on earth.

But you can't preserve it without preserving the seeker of the right Path in your soul (James) and without preserving the possibility of the emergence of the transformed soul (Harry).

This is a very important moment, not only because you can't kill people in principle. Dumbledore literally tells him that you can't save love of God, the divine spark in your soul, if you kill in yourself the one who reaches out to God (the deer) and if you kill the POSSIBILITY of becoming this new transformed soul (Harry).

For Snape, this becomes a turning point, and he decides to switch sides to true alchemy. Dumbledore asks in return for Snape's soul, but not in the sense that the Devil demands it, he asks for loyalty to the Path. Below I'll explain the symbolism of Dumbledore and what he means in terms of alchemical symbolism (I don’t think he is God).

Snape becomes loyal to Dumbledore. But Lily is killed, as is James. The world, despite the fact that Voldemort temporarily goes into hibernation (and the Savior is alive), plunges into despair. Sirius (as a divine symbol of light) is in captivity, Remus (a symbol of a seeker with a "good but not brave" soul) is somewhere wandering the world, and Harry lives very poorly with the Dursleys... Harry doesn't know any God, and the seeker in him is also "dead". And Voldemort will soon rise again, he's just gathering strength.

Harry's path is the path of returning to God through Mother of God (Theotokos). Because it is Mother of God who is the true Spirit. That's why he meets Lily only at the end of the seventh book, when he's almost completed the alchemical transformation. For Christians, this is heresy, but for alchemists, it's not. The Son and Mother of God are one whole. The Virgin Mary is part of the Trinity, because only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son is the salvation of humanity possible.

And who does he meet her through? Through Snape. Who dedicated his entire life to transforming his Soul, merging it with the Spirit, ultimately coming to God.

He spent his whole life hating James, as a Seeker of a different kind, not like him—Snape always leaned a bit towards Nietzschean stories. And James always hated Dark Magic and all dark things (although this doesn't make the souls of this type much better, they can also be egocentric). Snape teaches Potions, he knows how to bottle up Love, Death and Luck... So much power, so much pride in this...

Recently, I reposted a very interesting post. Snape wanted to recover his soul, because he was guilty of Lily's death. A very beautiful meta, but I see a bit different alchemical meaning. His soul is broken not only because Lily partly died because of him. His soul is broken overall because of the Path he chose - that of an occult alchemist, and he remains a "spy" to the end of his days, playing two roles, constantly "here and there". He dies at the hands of his former master.

Snape takes Lily's letter because he needs Lily's love (like people wear crosses), while there isn't enough understanding of where to go (Dumbledore is already dead)

Snape always yearned for Lily. And Dumbledore asks for us, the readers: "After all this time?" And Snape answers for us "Always." You must love God always. And that is salvation for the soul.

In general, Snape only understands towards the end that you cannot love Lily without Harry and even James. Only one Path leads to Lily - the same as James’s path. The path of Ego, pride, thirst for power, secret knowledge, occultism, malice, hatred must finally dissolve. Snape fully exposes himself to Harry, although he shouldn't have (he should only pass on information about death), revealing the good (and the bad) that he always hid. His revelation to him speaks of his complete acceptance. He shows him his soul, literally bowing his head to him - here I am, here is my soul, in some things I have no excuse, sometimes I have justification, but I've been seeking God, seeking love all my life.

Will you accept my wounded soul?

This is confession. The realest confession.

And Harry accepts. Of course, Harry accepts. He looks at him with Lily's eyes.

Because no matter how "bad" you are, if you truly love God in your soul, if you truly seek Him, there will always be a place for you in the City of God. Snape is the constantly replayed plot of the Prodigal Son's return.

At this moment, all the "black" in Snape dies – the nigredo. Tears - the white stage, purification – the albedo stage, purification. Blood – naturally, the red stage. The alchemical transformation for Snape is complete.

(But geniuses from TikTok will still say that Harry shouldn't have named his son Albus Severus, because Snape was baaaad. Ofc he was bad sometimes, that's the point!)

Dumbledore is the embodied Path and Plan

As I mentioned before, Dumbledore asks for Snape's soul in return, but not in the sense that the Devil demands it, he asks for loyalty to the alchemical Path.

Dumbledore, as an alchemist, besides embodying the completion of the albedo stage for Harry with his death, is also the embodied Path. Dumbledore is the highest Guardian of the Tower, who watches over the Paths of others, he is the Man of Spirit, he is the Principle, he is the Master. What is the difference between Dumbledore and Lily? Lily is a more important symbol, she is like pure divine power, God = love, as in what all souls dissolve. Dumbledore, on the other hand, is the Guardian of the Path through which everyone must pass. In short, Lily is the answer to the question "where", and Dumbledore is the "how". And Dumbledore is just a man who also underwent his alchemical transformation and who can also succumb to temptation. But Dumbledore is not GOD, imo. To personify God in a book is too much (even for me, although I’m not religious at all). I don’t like the idea of him being God and... really, where? God is transcendent and pure divine love emanates from Lily that’s why she almost an empty canvas. Dumbledore is a principle. He is the answer to the question "HOW". That's why he asks to believe in him, believe in the ALCHEMICAL PATH AND PLAN. FOLLOW THIS PLAN TO THE END. Ascend the tower, as I once ascended it. After all, he lives up there in the tower. He observes.

For Snape, Dumbledore is so important because Dumbledore is the Path, a new Path that he did not have. And Dumbledore's death is so important for everyone because now no one points them towards the Path. But they must find this Path within themselves. Because the answers are inside them. You cannot become a true Alchemist if you constantly rely on external help. It's time to see the Path independently.

"You must kill me."

There was a long silence, broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone. (HP and DH)

After Dumbledore says that Snape must kill him, there is silence and a very clear symbol - the phoenix and the bone. It's time for their souls to go independently, to eat away all the old to come to rebirth. Meanwhile, they also need to save Draco, who, by "Lucifer's" order, is about to kill the Path (although you can't outplay God's plan...). And then Dumbledore reveals that Harry must die.

This shocks Snape. Like any alchemist on the Path. How so, to die? After all, we all do everything to become closer to God, to immortality, and you say – just die? What kind of Path is this?

"I thought…all these years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”

After all, we were protecting Harry for Lily, because as I've already said, only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son is the salvation of humanity possible. Snape is protecting the son for the mother, and Dumbledore wants to kill him? For what?

Simply put, Snape doesn't understand that no one can save Harry until he dies and is reborn. It's painful, but all heroes go through this path for rebirth.

Dumbledore knows that there is a "seed" of "evil" in Harry, as in any of us. After the fall, we all carry Luciferian part within us. This is the last thing that must die in Harry, and he himself must die for it.

No one promised that the path of the alchemist would be easy. It's understandable why not everyone loves Dumbledore, he seems too cold and manipulative, but there is no other way for Harry on the symbolic level.

The Great Work

There are three stages of the Great Work: decomposition (nigredo), purification (albedo) and ultimate perfection (rubedo). These stages for Harry culminate in the deaths of Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, and his own death, where he is carried out of the forest by Rubeus Hagrid.

And the result of his alchemical work should be Rebis — essentially the alchemical philosopher's stone, an androgynous being. In the collection of dialogues attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, God is depicted as androgynous. (Hermes Trismegistus is essentially the one who created the corpus of Hermetic texts).

Rebis is the unity of opposites. Day and night, Man and Woman, Good and Evil, Light and Darkness. All is one. There is no division. The wholeness of God. After the fall, we are all divided. And after the alchemical transformation, we can finally become whole and find ourselves and God.

In the form of merged men and women, sometimes depicted as the Virgin Mary and Christ, because They are one whole. As I have already said, for many alchemists, the Virgin Mary is part of the Trinity because only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son was the redemption of original sin made possible. As I have already said, although Harry suffers more for James (his father turned out not to be as ideal as he thought), Lily is the main symbol in "Harry Potter".

The Nigredo stage literally means "blackness" - it signifies complete breakdown, decay, descent into the underworld, the trance of grief. It's a descent into the deepest fears, disbelief, denial, loss of self, anger, aggression. And through this - a return to the prima materia. This is what happens to Harry, "The Order of the Phoenix" is a very dark and depressing book, and with Sirius's death, this stage for Harry is completed. Sirius himself also undergoes transformations, but about this in the next part. The nigredo stage, during which a person's ego dissolves, is agonizing but necessary for further development. After the "I" meets its "shadow" and disintegrates into parts, it will need to be purified and recreated.

Albedo ("whiteness") symbolizes purification, transition to another world, change of life priorities, awakening, enlightenment. In alchemy, the transition from nigredo to albedo is achieved through the process of washing. The whole sixth book is misty, "white", "wet". "Washing" (albutio, baptisma) directly leads to whiteness (albedo). Purification. It's also silver, a lunar state. In Harry Potter, there is a character named Luna, which means moon in Latin. In different parts of the books, Luna also symbolizes this stage. With Dumbledore's death this stage for Harry completed.

Rubedo ("redness") - the final stage of the alchemical Great Work. The alchemist must establish a kind of sacrificial relationship with his inner essence. At the final stage, the so-called "alchemical marriage" takes place: the marriage of the Red King and the White Queen - Soul and Spirit. Harry (soul) and Lily (spirit) are united. With Hagrid carrying Harry this stage for Harry completed.

Bu the way, the Golden Snitch is an alchemical symbol also.

Firstly, Harry's position is called the Seeker. Alchemists also called themselves that. Secondly, the winged disc is a very ancient symbol, meaning the sun (God) and immortality.

The Snitch reveals to him the Resurrection Stone, and Harry "encounters" his main symbols, but the main one is Lily. It is her he asks not to leave him.

Harry's death here is read by everyone as the well-known plot of Christ's crucifixion. The path to this death is also a reference to the agony of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane before the Crucifixion. After all, Harry also wanted to end up somewhere, but Hogwarts is his home, and he accepts his fate.

My Father! all things are possible for Thee: take this cup of suffering away from me: and yet not what I desire, but what Thou desirest. Mark 14:36

He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home... But he was home.

Lily's Eyes

To be honest, I can assume that her green eyes was chosen at random. But what if they weren't? Her green eyes may seem illogical, as this is the colour of the snake, the colour of Slytherin, the colour of evil. But this is the occult Luciferian snake, the erroneous snake. Originally, green also dates back to Hermes Trismegistus – the god who gave the knowledge of alchemy. The most famous of the old hermetic-alchemical texts is inscribed on the "Emerald Tablet". According to legend, this document was left by Hermes Trismegistus on a plate of emerald in an Egyptian temple.

"The Emerald Tablet" is very important for alchemists." According to legend, a large emerald fell to the earth from Lucifer's head when he was cast out of heaven. From the same emerald that fell from the crown of the fallen Lucifer, angels made the Holy Grail (which is also the philosopher's stone, and the Snitch...). Emerald is a sacred green stone, and the heavenly divine world - the homeland of the emerald - a precious stone in which information about the heavenly homeland is encoded.

There is also the Ouroboros - a snake that devours its own tail - a symbol of infinity and immortality.

And the Snitch, which is a reflection of Hermes Trismegistus' staff (which has two battling snakes - two opposites, Spirit and Soul, Good and Evil and so on, and Hermes establishes unity between them with his staff).

Occultists, of course, interpret these symbols in their own way.

Hermione is Hermes Trismegistus. Mercury. Ron — Sulphur. Harry— Salt.

Hermione (Ἑρμιόνη [hermi. ónɛː]) is a feminine given name derived from the Greek messenger god Hermes. As I said, Hermes Trismegistus is the main figure of Hermetic teaching, he is also the one who predicted the coming of the Savior (traditional Christianity should not be confused with Gnostic teachings, the Church has always been against Gnosticism). In addition, Hermes is Mercury, and that is knowledge. Hermes Trismegistus shares "secret knowledge" with the world, which forms the basis of many Gnostic directions - from alchemy to Kabbalah.

Hermione is a little alchemist, she shares knowledge. It is Hermione who insists on complete trust in Dumbledore, it is Hermione who often leads Harry in the right direction when Dumbledore is not around. It is through Dumbledore and Hermione that "moral lessons" are often sounded, which often seem completely out of place. Like when Dumbledore says that James would forgive Peter. At that moment, I always want to say, "Are you out of your mind?!" although I understand that it is described on a symbolic, not personal level.

Mercury (Hermione), Sulphur (Ron), and Salt (Harry) were necessary in the alchemical transformation and were the main components. To create the philosopher's stone, all three elements had to be combined, and Harry is next to them throughout all the books.

Both Hermione and Ron are equally important in Harry's development.

Mercury is the more fluid primary principle, more rational, the feminine principle, while Sulphur is dynamic, expansive, unstable, acidic, unifying, masculine, paternal, and fiery principle. Sulphur is emotional, it is desire and passionate impulse that motivates life. Sulphur is desire. And according to Jung's reflections, it can also be foul and dangerous. Complete transmutation depends on the correct application of this variable principle. Sulphur must be of quality for transmutation to occur. And Ron achieves this quality.

Also, in mystical alchemy, Sulphur is crystallized inspiration of Mercury (Mercury).

Mercury and Sulphur are simultaneously antagonists, like the male and female elements, but at the same time Sulphur is crystallized Mercury.

So I have always been and will always be for Romione! Hehe. They were made for each other!

And as for Salt - that's Harry. It's the body. Sometimes it is called earth and body, salt is the essential body (corpus).

Alchemists say that salt was the first substance created by fire, emanating from God. In salt, all creation is concentrated, in salt the beginning and the end of all things.

Salt is associated with the ultimate elevation of matter - with matter that has acquired consciousness, achieved through the unity of opposites, including the unity of fire and water, the unity of what is above and what is below. Salt is the ultimate Philosopher's Stone, representing transcendence and ultimate knowledge.

Thus, salt symbolizes consciousness (thoughts, feelings, material, etc.), which must be elevated through alchemical processes of dissolution and recrystallization. Well, that's Harry himself.

Just love this stupid moment

Well, that's it, I think I've said everything, and from the next part, we can move on to the Marauders themselves :D

[apr1lias]

During the last race weekend, I posted about making a stats post about three particular riders if it received a certain benchmark (one like). Since we reached that marker with ease, and I have nothing better to do with my time, I am presenting you the findings of this research.

The Context: Jack Miller’s "princess" rant was post-race at the Sachsenring on 18th June 2023, so it’s almost been a full year since then. In this rant he targeted Fabio Quartararo and Marc Marquez who were complaining about their Yamaha and Honda bikes not working last year and told them to shut the fuck up and stop complaining, a quote that seems to have aged poorly when looking at their results.

So let's see if this is the case...

Qualifying results:

(Also for reference, each of these will show 2023 and 2024 results separately because there will ofc be a spike for a certain someone who went from a Honda to a Ducati lmao)

For 2023, Miller did the best out of the three in terms of his average qualifying position, narrowly ahead of Marquez, and he also had the highest qualifying position of them all (his P2 at Silverstone in wet conditions).

Quartararo did the best in his inter-team battle with Franco Morbidelli last season, being the top Yamaha in nearly 85% of the races. Marquez was the top Honda in 9 out of the 13 races (with Joan Mir x3 and Taka Nakagami being the two riders to beat Marc to top Honda in qualifying last year).

However, when it comes to the three of them, it was Marquez that was able to qualify the highest on the grid, with him beating Quartararo and Miller in 6 out of the 13 races post-Sachsenring in 2023. Jack was top 4 times, with Fabio taking the remaining three (as you can hopefully see by the colour-coordinated gold, silver and bronze).

For 2024, it's clear to see that Marc has been the best out of these guys, with the highest average position, as well as being the only one out of the three to take pole position which he earned in Jerez. However, he has only been the top Ducati twice, in Jerez and COTA, but as well all know he has a year old bike to contend with the Pramacs and factory Ducati riders.

The rest of the data shows that both KTM and Yamaha have gotten worse, with Fabio and Yamaha failing to qualify in the top 5 so far this season, but despite this, he still leads the head-to-head against his teammate. Jack, on the other hand, has a respectable qualifying average so far in 2024, but has only been the top KTM once (in Portimao).

So far this year, Marc has been the best of the three 4 times, with Jack taking two and Fabio taking his one win over the three in Le Mans.

Sprint race results:

For 2023, none of the three riders had particularly good sprint record, with the highest average finisher (Miller) not having a good enough average to even score points.

Marc earned the most points in the sprint races last year with 23, though he only finished in the points three times. Fabio scored the lowest number of points and had the lowest average position, however he was still able to earn a podium.

Marc and Fabio share the exact same record in sprints when it comes to beating their teammates, with the two of them being the top Honda/Yamaha over 50% of the time.

In the 2023 H2H, Marc was the best of the three across the 12 weekends (due to no sprint in Phillip Island), winning 5 of these battles; Miller took four sprint weekends and Fabio took 3.

Marquez clearly has the better record in sprints this year, with his average position of third leaving him on the podium. Fabio's average has improved since last year but he has only finished in the points once, and Miller's has also improved - with his average position ninth and meaning he would more often than not be in the points.

Marc, Jack and Fabio all currently have the better record against their teammates in the sprint races in 2024. Marc has a 100% record against his brother Alex, while Fabio has beaten Alex Rins in six of the seven sprints so far this year (which could've been 7/7 if he had completed the Mugello sprint). Jack has beaten Brad in 5 races out of the seven, however is still struggling when it comes to beating the rookie Pedro Acosta, as he has only been the top KTM bike once.

In the H2H between the three of them, Marquez takes it on the sprints winning 6/7 races. Fabio takes the other with his fifth place in Jerez.

Race results:

In the main races in 2023, it was Fabio who led the statistics between the three riders. Despite having the worst average qualifying, he won six of the 13 weekends against Marc and Jack. Marc took 4 while Jack took 2; although Assen is colour coded here, they all DNFd so it doesn't count, and it is coded in order of race completion (so because Fabio DNfed the latest he's gold if this makes sense).

Marc and Fabio once again had the better of their teammates in 2023, while Miller was only able to beat Binder in 23% of the races. This is even more damning for Miller when comparing the teammates' 2023 averages - with Binder averaging a finishing position of 4.8, while Miller's was 10.6. This is compared to Marquez vs Mir (9 vs 10.75 in Marquez's favour) and Quartararo vs Morbidelli (8.42 vs 12.23 in Quartararo's favour) where the battles are closer, and the riders are winning their team and factory head-to-heads despite being considered to have a worse bike than the KTM.

In 2024, it's clear that Marquez has the better race statistics, with three podiums and an average position of 5th. However, he has not finished as the top Ducati in any race so far this year, but he does have the better record against his teammate.

Quartararo and Miller have similar records with their average finishes this year, however Quartararo is the more consistent rider with more points and more races completed. He is also currently winning his head to head against teammate Alex Rins by finishing ahead in 57% of the races in 2024.

In terms of KTM, it has been a disaster year for Miller, who is yet to finish ahead of his teammate in any race this year and, consequently, has not finished as the top KTM. His average is significantly less than that of both Binder (6.71) and Acosta, the rider that will replace him next year, who has an average race position of 7th.

From this, Marquez has won the 2024 comparison in 6 of the 7 races, with Quartararo taking the remaining one.

In summary: Although he has done well in qualifying and sprints since these comments, Jack Miller has been outperformed by both Fabio Quartararo and Marc Marquez on inferior machinery (for Marc's stats from 2023). Marc has of course had the better of 2024 after switching to Ducati, but also has won out against the other two in qualifying and sprint races while on a Honda for 2023. Fabio does well in the races despite his relatively low qualifying positions, but is limited from achieving top 5s due to the Yamaha's capabilities. Jack does well in qualifying and sprints, but when it comes to the main events on Sundays, he lacks a bit in comparison to his rivals.

From what this data is showing, it seems as if Marc has comprehensively beaten Jack Miller despite his complaints about Honda in 2023, and Fabio has also narrowly done it due to his race pace. In short: those comments aged not-very-well to say the least.

If there's anything anyone wants to know or ask about then my asks are always open but I kinda had fun doing this!

[picnokinesis]

I’ve been rereading it again and I just wanted to say that I ADORE your campervan series. like genuinely I think it is both one of the best modern aus AND fics out there like the way you get the characters while blending in the show is just INCREDIBLE. obviously take care of yourself first, but I cannot WAIT for part seven and the rest of the series. like I think it’s one of the only fics where I’ve actively tried to figure the mystery out - you’ve had me googling what crimes a 15 year old can get charged 23 years for SKSKSK

Ahhhh oh my days hi!! Ahhhh this is so so lovely, thank you SO much 😭💕You are so kind augh - like the fact that you've not only read it once but multiple times is absolutely astounding to me, wow! Like - it's not a short series, by any stretch. So, just wow!! That's absolutely amazing!! I'm so glad that you've enjoyed the story so much so far. My favourite thing about writing it is making sure I'm getting the characters to ring true in a completely new context, whilst also holding a mirror up to series 12 itself and trying to examine it more deeply - and, honestly, I've discovered connections and threads along the way that have surprised me as much as anyone else haha

Part 7 was kicking me up the butt BUT I have started getting the ball rolling with it again. We're almost at 70k now - I was hoping that it would be around 85k in the end but, if I'm completely honest, I'll be lucky if it's less than 100k haha. But I have 3-4 chapters left to write, once I've finished off Chapter 7, the number being uncertain simply because I've got a plan for three chapters but knowing me it'll spill out into an extra chapter. We'll see how it goes! But for now, I'm just very glad that I did my research about the length of prison sentences for young offenders - so, just know that the number is actually accurate for the UK criminal system lol. What crimes lands a 15yo with a 23 year sentence? Uh. Not many!

Anyway 💕💕 I was inspired by the last ask to draw Koschei a la the last chapter of Part 6, and I was debating about posting it or not but seeing as you've sent this lovely lovely ask, I gotta share - so here you go!! Queen of Evil in all her glory

[dcficrecs]

I'm a Good Pretender

By on shipNslash on AO3

I just finished the first chapter of this, so my apologies if the rest of the fic isn't as good, but the last line of the first chapter was actually so genius I had to share. Minor spoilers for how Dick finds out Bruce is Batman, I guess. Although everyone knows that he does find out eventually, so the only spoiler is how. In this scene, Batman is interrogating Tony Zucco's old cellmate. He refuses to talk and Batman just knocks him out.

The whimpering tapers off until it's just blubbering and then nothing but unconscious breathing. Batman drops him with a sigh, stopping only to zip tie his hands to his apartment radiator.

What a waste of his time-

Creak.

Batman freezes, melting into the shadows out of instinct more than any sort of training. He peeks around the corner, ready for- for…

For anything but that.

Crawling in through the seventh story apartment window is a young Richard Grayson, dark jeans and black hoodie the only thing separating him from the glittering Gotham backdrop of flickering street lamps and red and blue sirens. He pads across the creaky floor on silent feet and stops only when he sees the unconscious resident.

The boy mutters something in an unfamiliar language but it's clearly a swear.

Bruce, never one to waste a dramatic entrance, steps forward a foot. "It's a little late to be out of bed, Richard Grayson," he whispers, voice still as loud as a gunshot in the silence.

"Câcat!" To his credit, when the kid jumps three feet in the air, he lands without a sound. Even more impressively, he doesn't have any other reaction besides for dropping a hand almost imperceptibly into his pocket- a weapon? "Holy fuck. You're Batman."

He cocks his head to the side, trying to get a clearer shot with his contacts. "Yes. How’d you scale seven flights of an exposed building?”

"I’m good at climbing,” the boy says dismissively. “You know my name. Why?" Chin tilted back, eyes a bright splash of anger in the dark- Richard is more confident in this moment than Bruce Wayne has ever been in his entire life.

Instead of answering, Batman nudges the man between them with his boot. "I know it's not a coincidence that you're here. What was your plan?" He's burning with curiosity.

"I- I was going to make him tell me where Tony Zucco is. I know he killed my parents and the last person he associated with was this piece of shit." Richard sounds angry. Fascinating. "What'd you do? He’s not dead, is he?"

"I don't kill people, Richard."

"Stop saying my fucking name unless you tell me how you know it."

Bold.

"Your face has been in the news a lot lately. I've been trying to solve your case."

The kid seems to crumple. "...why? The police obviously don't give a shit."

"That's not true. It's not exactly police procedure to discuss the details of a double homicide with the couple’s orphaned eleven year old." Bruce almost winces -that wasn't good socializing- but Batman doesn't care about those types of things so, for now, neither does Bruce.

Richard doesn't seem to care either. "First I'm going to catch him and then I'm going to kill him. And if you think anything is going to stop me, you're not as smart as they say," he spits out.

Bruce almost laughs, if only in disbelief. Who is this kid?

Instead, he pages Gordon with the address. There's usually an officer patrolling this block. "Listen, kid-"

"Dick."

"Excuse me?"

"My name." God, Bruce feels like he's looking in a mirror. For all that the boy doesn't look anything like an eleven year old Bruce Wayne, that burning rage is achingly familiar. "Nobody in this stupid fucking city might care about me, but I have a name and it's not Richard," he spits like a swear. "It's Dick. Dick Grayson."

Okay, now you know how he met Batman. Here's how he met Bruce (The second time, anyway. The first is at the circus, after his parents' murders). And for context, Miss Lopez is Dick's social worker. More context is that Alfred met with Dick at the orphanage and said that Bruce offered to buy Dick's parents' trailer and all their belongings and give it to Dick whenever he was ready.

Carefully pulling on a more refined accent (Mama loves southern France, she thinks their dialect is ‘fancy’), he jerks to his feet and gasps. “Mister Pennyworth! You came!”

“I told you I would,” the old man says simply, pushing the door all the way open.

And behind him stands-

“Do you remember Mister Wayne, Richard?”

Dick almost collapses under the weight of-

Strong arms, wrestling him to the ground. “Don’t look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just don’t look.”

So, yeah, maybe he’s off his game a little, but the first thing that pops out of Dick’s mouth is, “you don’t look like a billionaire.”

Mister Pennyworth laughs in a distinctly British way while said billionaire makes a face that Dick would hazard to describe as a pout. “It’s early,” he mumbles, shoving his pale hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

Aw hell, Dick thinks and suddenly feels guilty. Even though he really shouldn't because it’s true. He’s dressed like a homeless person, layers of old clothes and mismatched aesthetics, and he even has a ratty backpack over his shoulders. Shouldn’t a billionaire have someone to carry his stuff for him?

They’re saved from the awkwardness by Miss Lopez, who sweeps into the room in her usual chaotic way, her stupidly big bag overflowing with all the stuff she never seems to need.

She doesn’t even acknowledge the two men already in the room. “Really, Richard? Again?” She asks, sounding so tired.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whimpers. (He’s not). “I won’t do it again, Miss Lopez, I swear!” (He will.)

He watches her deflate. “Oh, Richard. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t I just go back to-”

“Please don’t bring up the circus again-”

“But it’s where I belong-”

Mister Wayne interrupts, his voice painfully quiet. (Mama says enunciation makes the difference between talking and speaking.) “I'll take him.”

…what?

Dick and Miss Lopez both freeze. She just now seems to realize that they’re not alone and Dick can pinpoint the exact moment she recognizes who’s standing in front of her.

“Oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Hello, Mister Wayne!” She gushes, the hand not holding up her stupidly big bag reaching up to swipe at her hair.

Mister Wayne doesn’t exactly look like the type of person to judge someone for a bad hair day but even Dick feels the urge to fidget under the weirdly intense stare. He knows better, though, and keeps himself perfectly still while Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth start talking about things like state certified foster homes and mandatory wait periods and generous donations.

He follows along with that side of the conversation with perfect ease. People with enough money can do whatever they want and Mister Wayne has ‘more money than God’ according to the cop who brought him in. The only thing he doesn’t understand is…

“Why?” He asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Intense eyes lock onto him. “Hm?”

“Why are you offering to help me?” Dick asks. He knows he’s blowing his act. The optimistic orphan would never look a gift horse in the mouth. But he just doesn’t get it. “You don’t even know me.”

Mister Wayne shifts so that he’s facing Dick head on instead of Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth, who are looking over a thick legal document. “You don’t have to. I’ll still help in any way I can. If you'd rather try a different foster home, I'll pay for a lawyer,” he murmurs and Dick gets the impression that this is more talking than Mister Wayne has done in a long time.

To be fair, he seems harmless. Dick doubts he’s a pervert or something. There are plenty of less famous orphans he could have snatched up if all he wants is to cop a feel. And he definitely isn’t a good actor, so this has to be at least a little genuine.

When Dick doesn’t answer, Mister Wayne sighs and crouches so that they’re almost eye level. He’s very tall and Dick is very not tall, okay? And he doesn’t say any stupid shit either, like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘how are you doing?’ that everyone else seems so insistent on. Instead, he pulls an envelope out of his backpack and offers it to Dick wordlessly..

“Um. Thanks.” Dick takes it, checking to make sure that Miss Lopez isn’t watching before opening it-

Holy fucking shit.

Mama and Papa’s faces smile back at him, a chubby cheeked Dick balancing on their shoulders in front of the Eiffel Tower.

This time, the tears in his eyes are real. “Mister Wayne…”

“I want to help, Dick,” he whispers.

There’s a long list of thoughts running through Dick’s head right now.

He’d somehow forgotten that Mister Wayne has his parent’s trailer. He wants to kiss the picture of his family, safely sealed inside of a little plastic bag. He knows that he’s going to juvie. He knows that Mister Wayne is his best chance at getting out of juvie. He knows it’ll be way easier to sneak out of some big mansion than it will be to break out of a detention center. He knows that Tony Zucco is still alive and roaming free.

But all he can think about is the fact that he’s only told one person in this god forsaken city his real name and it was Batman. So why did Bruce fucking Wayne just call him Dick?

Literally holy shit. I love obscure details that the reader can miss, sometimes is supposed to miss, becoming important later on. I sure as hell missed it.

This fic is good so far, but one thing I know I don't like is the tags saying that Dick's parents were slightly abusive. That's just too out of character for them for me. But I am really into any 'Dick Grayson becoming Robin' fics right now, so I'm trying not to be picky. If this fic does end up being good despite that, I'll probably post more excerpts here.

[weswritesscripts]

[A4A] The Robbery [Mystery] [Detective Speaker] [Seer Listener] [Healer Listener] [Urban Fantasy] [Plot Heavy] [Annoyance to ???] [Part 1]

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Script be upon ye. Just a quick disclaimer, I've tagged this as [A4A] but multiple speakers appear in this script though none of them talk at the same time/are in the same conversation.

Narration Key

{...} = Pause for Listener response for about 2-3 seconds

{—} = Pause for Listener response for about 5-6 seconds

[Insert text] = Tone indicators, narration cues, descriptions to help with clarity (not to be narrated) and sound effects (which are optional but may help convey actions)

“Insert text” = Dialogue

Usage

Feel free to use this script monetized or not, just be sure to credit me if this script is used and send me a link! Please, however, keep this audio as “4A”. Gender of the speaker can be changed but the gender of the listener must be kept as “anybody” if you wish to use this script. Thanks! :)

Characters

Detective Marley Droit (pronounced: dʁwa [it’s french]): A curt and stoic Uninclined (no magical abilities) detective working for Informed Law Enforcement in Salvatrice whose worked a few too many years and is feeling the weight of their decisions wear them down. They’re the overcast day to the Listener’s unending enthusiasm.

Listener (AKA Doc/Seer): A seer who pursued healing magic (a facet of Vitaemancy) and now works in a back-alley (and probably illegal) healing clinic in the lower city. Highly curious, they always seem to be poking their nose where it's most unwanted, especially when it comes to cases in their area of the lower city that Detective Droit might just be covering. They channel their foresight/divination through a set of tarot cards.

Unseen Voice: The voice that narrates when the Listener uses their foresight.

Morgan: The Listener’s mentor and the primary healer.

Setting

The Lower City of the fictional city of Salvatrice in a back alley healer and then down the street from the healer.

Context

The Listener hears of a robbery that has occurred down the street from their apprenticeship at a backend healer in the Lower City.

Script

[The scene fades into the sounds of cards shuffling as the Listener shuffles through a tarot deck. As the Listener splits and shuffles the cards, an indistinguishable murmuring gradually grows louder. The Listener draws a card. The murmuring quiets but doesn’t stop]

Unseen Voice: [Three voices echo, overlapping themselves and fading in-and-out to seem almost ethereal] “Five of Swords. Upright. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. They say, lamentings heard in the air; strange screams of death, and prophesying with accents terrible of dire combustion and confused events. Some say, the earth was feverous and did shake.”

[The Listener draws a second card]

Unseen Voice: “Seven of Swords. Upright. I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at. I am not what I am. And thus I clothe my naked villainy with old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ, and seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”

[The murmurs grow louder. The Listener draws a third card. The murmurs abruptly stop]

Unseen Voice: [Three voices, all at once] “The Devil–”

[A door opens and the Listener’s cards flutter to the ground. The sound of the radio starts up again]

Morgan: “Oh! You’re still here. You clocked off an hour ago, what in the hells are you doin’ sneaking around my backroom?”

{—}

Morgan: “That apartment a’ yours I swear – that place is a beacon a’ trouble. You ought to move out.”

{...}

Morgan: “I hear ya, I hear ya. Money’s tight. I get it. But if push comes to shove kid—”

{...}

Morgan: “Alright, I’ll lay off of it. For now. ‘Sides, didn’t come back here to nag you again. Grapevine tells me that Detective of yours is sniffing ‘round here again.”

{...}

Morgan: [snorts] “Sure they aren’t.”

{...}

Morgan: “Whatever. Word on the street is some old money family was transportin’ some odd and ends through here – God knows why – and the transport got robbed! Don’t know what they were expectin’, driving through the Lower City in some fancy [in a posh accent] ‘Automobile’ is bound to get you in trouble if you’re not careful.”

{—}

Morgan: “God if I know. Not my business and, frankly, I don’t wanna know. You should know by now kid, the less you know, the better.” 

{...}

Morgan: “I can see you practically vibrating out of your skin, kid. You’re off the clock so stop entertainin’ this old curmudgeon and go check out that crime scene before you blow a fuse.”

[Footsteps, running as the Listener rushes out the door. Tinkle of a bell as the door opens. Door shuts]

Morgan: That kid, I swear…

[Scene change to down the street. Listener’s footsteps slow from a run to a walk. Detective Droit’s voice, deadpan and a little monotone, fades in, questioning the driver of the transport.]

Droit: “Right. So you hit a bit of uneven road and thought you heard something shatter, making you pull over. You were checking the back of the van to see what had broken when you heard someone else enter the van but when you turned around, no one was there?

[Pen on paper as Droit writes something down]

Droit: “Did anything seem off?”

[Pause for unheard driver’s response]

Droit: [Narrating their writing] “A… small… box… Do you know what items went missing? 

[Pause] 

Droit: “Any idea why your client didn’t want you to know what was in the boxes?”

[Pause] 

Droit: “Uhuh, and this client of yours—”

[Droit catches sight of the Listener. Droit swears under their breath]

Droit: [Sharply] “For Christ’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you. Get out of my crime scene.”

{—}

Droit: “You’re the furthest thing from a concerned citizen.”

{...}

Droit: “What you are is a nosy busy-body.” 

{...}

Droit: “I don’t want or need your help. This is Informed Law Enforcement business.”

{...}

Droit: “Like I said the first fifty times, your involvement isn’t necessary, Seer. Though I guess Doc is more fitting now, huh?”

{—}

Droit: “I’m aware the definitely not up to regulation healers is where you work.”

{—}

Droit: “I don’t need you to persuade Morgan to let me see the security footage. Unlike you, if the case requires it, I’m authorised to access all security footage across the city.”

{...}

[Droit hesitates, thinking]

Droit: [Reluctantly] “Fine. But just this once. After we’ve seen the footage, you go on your merry way and I’ll get back to doing my job.”

{...}

Droit: “I don’t wanna hear it. It’s that or nothing.”

{...}

Droit: “That’s what I thought. Now c’mon, I don’t have all day.”

[Scene change. Back in Morgan’s back room. The radio is playing softly and a fan clicks in the corner. The Listener types on an old keyboard]

Droit: “Thought Morgan was gonna flay me alive when they saw me on their doorstep.”

{...}

Droit: [Scoff] “Not that bad. They’re your mentor, of course they’re lovely. But to anyone who's dipped even a toe into law enforcement? We may as well be the dirt that clings to the bottom of their shoes.”

{—}

Droit: “I’m not saying I blame them. [Bitterly] The others turn a blind eye to almost anything if they can reap a reward out of the folks in the Upper City, then come down like a ton of bricks if anyone from around here puts even a toe out of line.”

{...}

Droit: [Smugly] “But I guess that’s why I’m the detective with the generous pay and they’re still pushing papers behind their desks.”

{...}

Droit: “You found it?”

[Pause as Droit looks at the screen] 

Droit: “Yeah. There’s the van.”

[Pause as they both watch the video footage]

Droit: “He’s stopped now, and there's the driver getting out.”

[Longer pause]

Droit: “It’s really like he said. There’s nobody there but you can see the van sway as if someone stepped inside.”

{—}

Droit: “What, like using Perceptoxis to create a cloaking illusion?”

{...}

Droit: “It’s plausible, but that’s gotta be some pretty powerful magic to both interfere with the cameras and the driver. And the Inclined would’ve had to be familiar with this street to know where your cameras are.”

{...}

Droit: “Although, they might not be Inclined at all.”

{...}

Droit: “It’s a bit of a stretch, but they could’ve bought an item infused with raw magic, something enchanted or maybe a potion.”

{...}

Droit: “That’s right. Not many people would’ve been able to afford that, so it can’t have been a local. That kind of high-level raw magic isn’t easy to do and is even harder to find.”

{...}

Droit: “But if they’re not a local, how’d they–”

[The chiming of a phone signals that Droit is getting a call]

Droit: “Hang on, I’m getting a call.”

[They pick up the phone]

Droit: “This is Detective Droit.”

[Pause as the person on the other end speaks] 

Droit: “I’m already on a case I can’t—”

[Person on the other end interrupts. Pause] 

Droit: “The Augurs? What’s that got to—” 

[Interrupted again] 

Droit: “The missing items belong to them?” 

[Pause. Droit sighs, world weary] 

Droit: “Trust a simple robbery to be involved with the biggest Seer family in Salvatrice.”

[Pause] 

Droit: “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go speak with them as soon as I can. Alright. Bye.” 

[Droit sighs again, even more world weary, before addressing the Listener]

Droit: “I’ve gotta go.”

[End]

[wcspriter]

As mentioned before, I spent an entire week and countless hours across a version of Undertale as told by dedicated fans who spent seven years developing a massive love letter to Toby Fox in the form of Undertale Yellow. With the game turning one year old today I thought I'd weigh in my thoughts on it.

So I came into the game with an unusual task; to learn about this alternate world's lore for @vyletbunni's The Last Amalgam series (as of this post, parts one and two are officially up, part three is currently still in development). Not only did I get what I asked for but alongside @deltatraveler, it was something I think I actually needed to play. I've spent so much time on open online games that I forgot how nice it was to take it slow with something far more one-player that doesn't have a massive checklist of things for completionists. No achievements, no online mishaps, no stream system, just me and a game that took up one-fifth of a gigabyte on my drive.

The amount of work that went into this game is insane. Things that would take a pair of sprites to convey were stretched into pixel-sized animations that shows the additional lengths this team would go to telling their story. The music? I'm still going through the soundtrack on my commutes. Of course BEST FRIENDS FOREVER! is my top-most replayed song. And the (non-canon) lore? This no doubt opened the door for tons of people to make all kinds of new Undertale work and speculations off of it.

It's actually kinda hard to nitpick something super specific because I can't remember any flaws through all three playthroughs. I guess the only thing I can say is that Yellow through a curve-ball making me think that I need to first do the Neutral route on my first playthrough when "Surprise!" you're already on-route to the Pacifist ending instead. I don't know…the reveals Flowey gives you on the Neutral ending may or may not feel like required context for when you take that Pacifist route first. But that just might be the original Undertale talking to me; so some beats can be shaken up.

I do wonder how this game was handled. Seven years of development time, Toby Fox making Deltarune alongside them, most of the...admittedly weird fangames that just boil down to the fights. Actually, come to think of it, one of those Yellow devs had previously worked on Undertale Red (Red as in the fan character who made a cameo in Yellow) ended up working on base Deltarune itself!

So closing thoughts: Yeah, this DID take 7 years to make. This is a team of people who didn't get paid to work and completed a near-canon Undertale experience that captures the original game almost perfectly. The battles, the animation, the music that didn't have to hit so hard but they hit it out of the park...all in all, I kinda wish I paid for this game because the devs can still take Yellow as a stepping stone for bigger projects in their future.

...huh...I wonder...

...

...

...

...yeah, I'm keeping this lmao

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

I know this seems weird but self shipping with Desmond Miles actually brought me back to my faith.

Context:

I was raised Roman Catholic and I am a fully confirmed Adult (ie. I'm Baptized, have had my first communion and was confirmed.). But even as a child I struggled to see how a two hundred year old text mattered to me in my daily life.

2020 happened and the Church closed I didn't go to virtual mass. As the song God's Not Dead goes, my faith was dead. For almost five years I was not going regularly. I may go to Ash Wednesday here, Easter there, Christmas another time and definitely when my family went during our reunions.

Cue December 3rd 2024 and that weird and vivid dream (if you are following me and @guyfawkesreborn this is the jumping point of the rp we are currently doing.) I start to self ship.

Now granted I can trace my self shipping back to when I was about six or seven and my first crush on Fiore from Sailor Moon R Promise of the Rose and I have self shipped with Saix, Steve Rodgers, Erik the Phantom of the Opera, Kauai Liang and Hanzo Hasashi but none really stuck or stayed.

Unlike Desmond Miles. He's going strong here. Now I knew of him in 2014/2015 but admittedly I thought he was a bit of a brat.

Hey that hurts Hun.

Sorry dear but yeah my first impression of you wasn't the greatest. I started to get back heavy into Assassin's Creed around the end of 2021/2022 thanks to my dad seeing trailers for Assassin's Creed Valhalla back around 2020ish time period.

Well I started to gravitate to Desmond the more I went back and looked at the whole story of Assassins Creed. It is kinda like why I gravitated towards Anakin Skywalker when I was heavy into Star Wars. The tragic backstory that gave me comfort.

I tested the waters during December 2024 and he latched on to me reviving my self insert Jamie Ella Tundra who hadn't seen the light of day since 2008/2009.

Desmond was there when the owner of where I work passed away shortly after the start of the year this year. We attended his funeral at my current church and I will say I was impressed and hooked with how safe I felt. The next week I sat in at the 8:30am service and welp I have been going ever since. I have missed three days so far. Once because I didn't feel like it, once due to weather, and I had to work the third time. And the last two times I at least streamed the service.

That's another thing about the church Jamie here likes, that if she can't physically go she can stream it later. But also, Hun I am just happy to be here with you as support. I don't believe myself and yet every Sunday I am sitting reading the Bible readings for the day and adding my two cents. Not something I thought I would say. I am also happy you feel comfortable belting out Christian music with me around.

Right. Speaking of that. I have a couple songs that have got me singing along.

Anyway so yeah Desmond has led me back to my faith. But on my own terms.

[thestarpilot]

“Less Green Euglossine”

The body arrived mid-morning yesterday. Unaccompanied by the usual vibratory contexts of discovery. All but the time since her estimated expiration: four days. The collectors delivering her shook their heads. Only saying, “This is above your paygrade.”

Everyone in the building was rattled. Seven hours into external examinations and little headway had been made at all. Opinions were split and war seemed more likely than consensus. Identity was pivotal. Those in the examining staff were the same in the newly scribed title– Imperial Haruspex. Only distinguished by degrees of seniority. But factions of thought superseded and three sets of characters feuded: the augurs, the coroners, and the pathologists. The mad, the bored, and the righteous. Most haruspices were bored, but satisfied with survival.

Vaulted ceilings loomed over the observation room. Freshly tapestried imperial banners hung from the mullions of the glass-block windows that arched toward the rotunda’s zenith, eclipsing most light. What had once been a bright space inviting thorough inspection had become grim. Washed bloody by the woven garnet hues. The building was old, older than most. Republican-old, but only the maddest, soon-to-be dead fool would say something like that. Yet still, some republican remnants persisted beyond buildings. Even the newly distinguished haruspices remained by their previous title medicator. At least in casual reference.

All haruspices had been medicators once. A soon fading memory. Since the upheavals of the old regime, the coalescence of the new one, and the quietus time since, there hadn’t been much opportunity for medicine. The thirty years of change had only one exceptionally static pattern. Bodies. All needing examination and factful determination. Yet almost all receiving the same broad detail of report:

“Case #: …

Subject: …

…

General Findings:

Presenting body displays usual processes of exsanguination. Putrefaction is almost non-existent. Except slight remnants of intra-abdominal cavity decomposition, near complete desiccation of remains.

Specific Findings:

No atypicalities.

…”

Death had become the exclusive writ of the imperium. All natural causes were absent in considerations. Being in the capital, the old mortuarium was centered amongst the bloodshed. Its haruspices had seen more than most of Empire’s fate-stained hand. But the cases were always the same: waifish young women, servants from the palace presenting divoted patella from too long knelt in Empire’s company; large brutes of men with scar-stained skin, praetorii given the graft marks their once fleshbound armor seared across the bodies once removed; feeble and crooked-shaped old men bearing the blackened internal tissues of nyxene drinkers, a lifestyle which only magistratuum salary could afford. No matter who it was the corpse on the table had been, the report was generally the same: They were letted.

The woman on the observation room’s examination table would receive no such report. Haruspices received corpses on the day they died without fail. Except her. And none of the waves of bodies before her had ever had any cause for the dispatch of an imperial envoy. When the Empire’s adjutant arrived, the dozen or so haruspices of the mortuarium gathered in the observation room at attention. Ready to brief him on their unfinished report. Case #: 2473-B:

“Case #: 2473-B

Subject: Unknown

…

General Findings:

Presentation of highly anomalous characteristics. Subject exhibits a complete absence of post-mortem change. Indications of either unknown techniques of preservation or novel state of physiology. Warrants further investigation.

Specific Findings:

Abnormal external appearance. Skin pale with subtle yet uniform blue-green undertone. Skin texture smooth showing no signs of dehydration or epidermal slippage. Surface temperature cool to touch but warmer than expected ambient temperature. No rigidity of soft-tissues, subject musculature remains manipulable. Absence of lividity. Signs of ocular clouding absent, no corneal turbidity or tache noire formation. Pupils remain undilated. Edges of sclera exhibit faint tinge of blue-green hue consistent with skin undertone. No presence of typical odor of decomposition. Faint metallic scent, unfamiliar to all observing haruspices. No visible wounds, contusions, or any other signs of violent trauma. Fingernails intact, no defensive wounds present.

Additional notes:…”

The adjutant’s face had seemed to freeze and boil at the same time as he read the findings. He stopped before the report concluded with additional notes. His consternation suddenly muted and resumed its cold, neutral state. One of the haruspices, an augur, began to chime in excitedly. Surely hoping to suggest some horrid new inquisition against this abnormal genestrain.

“Distinguished adjut–”

“Say nothing,” he blared, “Nothing at all. You are all hereby embargoed by order of the Emperor. All information pertaining to this subject is to remain secret by threat of death.”

His voice was almost resolved, but betrayed a thin quaver. Clearly, even he wasn’t sure how to handle this or its relay to his superiors. Upon his decree, after only the briefest pause and a somewhat rushed official imperial salutation, he turned and his accompanying retinue followed. Much to the relief of the attending haruspices who were left to their duties. Thankfully– seemingly– spared for now. But as the doors of the observation room slammed shut behind the imperial procession, a silence thickened in the room. The haruspices exchanged uneasy looks.

“What now?” A coroner sputtered, as surely uncertain as the rest.

“Nothing, you heard the adjutant!” Barked back one of the augurs. “Whatever foulness this is, there will be no further examinations. Not unless so ordered.”

The augur’s words lingered in the room, vested with the hefty weight of imperial authority. But they were also untrue. The adjutant had embargoed dissemination of findings, indeed. But he had mentioned nothing of further examination. Eyes met in glances as the room of haruspices searched amongst themselves for answers.

“And if we’re ordered to forget?” One pathologist rejoined, his eyes fixed to the subject on the examination table. Her faint blue-green skin almost aglow in the waning red light of the room.

The room again felt a thick silence as the implications of the question rippled through. Coroners shifted, caught between survival and curiosity. Even the augurs themselves, torn between loyalty through obedience and service through discovery. Both groups wrought by fear and wonder.

“It reminds me of bees...” The youngest haruspex broke through the silence. All eyes turned to look at him in massed confusion.

“Her skin.” He tried to solve their puzzlement. “Her skin reminds me of orchid bees. Euglossines, I think. But less green.”

[cpw-nyc]

Top 10 Amazing New Finds From Ancient Greece

by Jana Louise Smit * fact checked by Jamie Frater

Greece is almost as old as time. The layers of history shaping this ancient culture are still being unfolded, sometimes with breathtaking results. Vast artworks, cities, and ruins are changing what scholars know about the ancient Greeks.Then there are the intriguingly rare tombs, strange skeletons, and unusual versions of old familiars. Incredibly, the region also recently revealed a fossil that could change the story of human evolution.Featured image credit: sciencealert.com

10 Coin Stash Mystery Photo credit: Live Science During two excavation seasons in 2016 and 2017, archaeologists investigated an ancient harbor. It belonged to Corinth, once a bustling city in Greece that existed for thousands of years.Among the finds was a hoard of buried coins. They were discovered inside a building that had collapsed long ago. Most of the 119 coins were bronze and were minted during the reigns of different emperors of the Roman Empire. Together, they dated from AD 306–518.Researchers strongly believe that somebody buried the cache on purpose because it came with an iron lock. Perhaps as time went by, the organic-type container holding the stash decomposed, but the lock survived.Sometime after hiding the money, the building collapsed on top of it. Strangely, the owner never returned even though the money was reachable beneath the rubble. The loot was not deeply hidden. Whoever put it in the ground only dug about 30–40 centimeters (12–16 in) deep.[1]

9 Untouched Minoan Grave Photo credit: Smithsonian Magazine

In 2018, a farmer on Crete parked his car. He chose a shady spot under a tree on his property outside of Kentri. During a scary moment, the earth under his vehicle sank but the farmer managed to drive to safety. Curious, he walked back and was amazed to see the remains of something ancient far below.

Archaeologists were ecstatic. It turned out to be an undisturbed Minoan grave (1400–1200 BC). A lot of the Minoan culture’s history remains missing. This makes any site that hasn’t been looted very valuable. Once a place is robbed, many of the artifacts lose their context, even those that remain behind.

This tomb was an underground affair carved from limestone to shape three areas. There were two larnakes (clay coffins with embossed details), each containing a man. They were buried with colorful and high-quality pottery, including 14 amphorae, which suggested the pair enjoyed high status in life. Ancient masons sealed the tomb and preserved the contents for thousands of years.[2]

8 Proof Of Tenea’s Wealth Photo credit: Smithsonian Magazine

At the root of many legends stands the city of Tenea. Said to have been founded by Trojan war captives, the Greek settlement thrived on the Peloponnese until the sixth century. Tenea’s location was known but seemed empty of archaeological finds.

In 2018, the city delivered in a big way. Earlier in the year, the graveyard outside Tenea yielded seven tombs. The quality of the grave goods provided evidence of an old suspicion—Tenea was small but wealthy. A ring adorned with Egyptian gods, plenty of jewelry made of gold and bronze, vases, and coins accompanied the dead.

When archaeologists returned in October, they made a landmark discovery. The previously bland settlement produced the first residential ruins. The rooms also showed a marked opulence.

Walls were plastered, and floors were crafted from clay, stone, or marble. Other finds included a clay pipeline, ceramics, and coins suggesting a period of affluence around AD 200. The most unusual thing was recovered from one of the buildings’ foundations—a burial jar containing two babies.[3]

7 Oldest Written Odyssey Photo credit: Live Science

The first Olympic Games were held in Olympia in Greece. Today, the region remains a hotbed for archaeologists. A recent survey investigated the Sanctuary of Olympia, a collection of ancient temples and other religious buildings. Ironically, while digging in an old trash heap left by the Romans, archaeologists found a remarkable artifact. It was a clay tablet fired sometime before the third century AD.

The date made its content very special. The slab contains 13 verses of the 14th book of The Odyssey. The fragment is now considered the oldest written version of Homer’s epic poem that includes the first eight verses. The complete poem was penned in the eighth century BC and ran 12,000 lines.

The fragment contains a scene where Odysseus returns home from the Trojan War. Nothing similar to the tablet was found at the Olympia sanctuary. Researchers are still trying to understand how it ended up there and what it was used for. Such answers could explain why the discarded slab contained a slightly different version of the story than the one told in later copies.[4]

6 The Zeugma Muses Photo credit: sciencealert.com

Founded in 300 BC, the Greek city of Zeugma was one of the Roman Empire’s pivotal trade centers. In modern times, it stands in Turkey and is known for some of the most breathtaking mosaics from the ancient world.

In 2014, a team worked on-site as part of a long-term project designed to save the settlement’s mosaics from water damage. They decided to head toward a building called Muzalar House. This massive residence probably belonged to a wealthy family.

What they found inside supported the notion. Three new mosaics, packed with detail and color, greeted the archaeologists. The most stunning was an enormous scene depicting the nine Muses.[5]

At the center was Calliope, described by an ancient Greek poet as the most talented of the muses and patron of the arts. Her beautifully rendered face was surrounded by those of her eight sisters. The artwork’s theme was not random. Homeowners chose images to highlight their interests. The muses meant that Muzalar House liked intellectual gatherings or parties, most likely both.

5 Neko’s Mausoleum Photo credit: reuters.com

Around 1,800 years ago, a woman was buried on the small island of Sikinos. Her grave was robbed a couple of centuries ago, but other than that, she remained undiscovered until 2018. Grave goods announced her as a noblewoman, and the body was adorned with gold, including bracelets, a necklace, and rings.

The tomb was found in the vault of a rare building. Constructed during Roman times, the burial memorial later became a Byzantine church and monastery. Today, the building is known as the Episkopi monument.

The entire site is an exceptional find. Likely built to protect the woman’s remains, the mausoleum stood as one of the most impressive and best-preserved in the Aegean region.

Even better, archaeologists could link it to somebody’s name. Written on the grave in Greek letters was the name “Neko.” This rare treasure survived almost intact because it was sandwiched between walls and the building’s basement in such a way that nobody realized it was there.[6]

4 Bronze Age Breweries Photo credit: Live Science

In 2018, archaeologists found ruins that changed the alcoholic history of Greece. The ancient Greeks consumed wine with gusto. No evidence existed that they used any other alcoholic beverage.

Recently, ruins were unearthed at two sites—Archondiko in the north of Greece and Agrissa closer to the east. At both, the buildings had been destroyed by fire. The inferno preserved plenty of artifacts, and some unexpectedly suggested the sites were breweries. The best clue was the discovery of cereal grains.

Found at both locations, they had just started growing when the fire occurred. Part of the beer-making process calls for malting, or cereal sprouting. The sprouts also dated both sites to the Bronze Age, as early as 2100 BC.

Additional evidence that ancient Greeks enjoyed beer included drinking cups at each site and at Archondiko, a double chamber that held temperatures below 100 degrees Celsius (212 °F). For a beer-making facility, this made sense. The later stages of brewing require an environment of around 70 degrees Celsius (158 °F).[7]

3 Master Female Ceramicist Photo credit: Smithsonian Magazine

In 2009, archaeologists examined a 3,000-year-old grave on Crete. It contained a woman from Eleutherna, an ancient Greek city. Compared to other female burials, the woman’s skeleton was unusual. When she died, aged 45–50, her body was very muscled on the right side. Cartilage in a knee and both hips were nonexistent.

Curious about the unique development (and damage), researchers created digital models and also used real people. Both groups performed tasks while the physical results were studied. Things came to a dead end when spinning wool, loom weaving, baking, and working the land did not produce a match.[8]

Amazingly, a chance encounter with a local woman solved the mystery. As a master ceramicist, she demonstrated the production of large artisan vases. When she explained the craft’s physical demands, the shoe dropped.

A lifetime of making giant pots explained the skeleton’s state. Working the kicking wheel damaged the leg joints, and leaning to shape the clay strengthened her right side. This is also the first woman employed as an expert ceramicist to emerge from ancient Greece.

2 Crete Hominid Controversy Photo credit: discovermagazine.com

In 2017, fossilized footprints were discovered on the island of Crete. They belonged to something that walked on two legs. The impressions showed sandal-like soles and no claws. The first toe was in line with the rest, unlike an ape’s big toe. (Those look more like thumbs.)

For this reason, it was decided that the footprints were made by a hominin. These primates were closer to humans than the apes. But the creature, who walked on Crete 5.7 million years ago, stepped on a very modern nerve.

Officially, the region’s first hominins arrived only millions of years later. This was the tinder that caused a fire in the scientific community. There is an old theory that humans evolved in Europe and not Africa. It has been debunked, and the scholars who found and classified the Crete tracks as hominin agreed that humans evolved in Africa.

Even so, they were accused of pushing a Eurocentrism agenda. If these footprints are proven to be hominin tracks, it may well rock the boat. The Crete walker strolled along two million years before the oldest acknowledged hominin trackway, which is in Tanzania.[9]

1 Names Of Amazons Photo credit: National Geographic

For years, the gibberish written on many ancient Greek vases mystified researchers. The vessels had something in common: They depicted Amazons, the female warriors from the realm of the Scythian nomads near the Black Sea. Greek writing surrounded the women, but the words made no sense in the Greek language.

A breakthrough came in 2014. Scholars knew the Greeks battled the Scythians but also admired the Amazons. So, why produce ornate vases about them and then write nonsense all over it?

A close study found the vases also showed gods. Nearby words revealed their names in clear Greek. This suggested that the rest might also be names. A dozen vases were chosen, and their “nonsense” was phonetically translated.

To make sure that the results were as organic as possible, an expert linguist analyzed the phrases without knowing the project’s details. It turned out that the Greeks wrote Amazon names phonetically, giving researchers an earful of a language (Circassian) that had not been spoken for almost 3,000 years.

The gibberish revealed interesting names, including Don’t Fail, Princess, Hot Flanks, Battle-Cry, and Worthy of Armor.[10]

https://listverse.com/2018/12/06/top-10-amazing-new-finds-from-ancient-greece/

[pynkhues]

Very silly question, but how much time do you think each of the succession kids has spent with each parent (in one-on-one settings and I guess just generally)? I've had it in my head that Roman's actually spent less time with Logan than his siblings in both contexts (especially in childhood where I tend to think Logan didn't actually spend a ton of time with his family), but I'm not sure if that's a common read or something I kind of made up lol.

Ooo, I think that's actually a really interesting question, anon. Mm, I agree that I think Roman's probably spent the least time with Logan, and I actually think he's even spent less time with Logan than Connor has. While we know Logan abandoned Connor for that three year period, I think the show's implied a level of relationship between Logan and Connor that exists beyond the game of Succession, particularly in the RECNY Ball but also, of course, in the video played in the finale. I kind of have a lot of Thoughts on Logan's relationship with Connor, haha, but that feels like a whole other post.

There does seem to be a degree of punishing distance between Roman and Logan, and I think there's a lot that could be read into it as Logan's discomfort with seeing shades of his own weaknesses in Roman, which is perhaps clearest in the reveal that Logan was sent away to school himself and sent away Roman in turn. Interesting too, because I think the show's also been pretty clear about Logan seeing his favourite strengths in Roman too (his instincts, his politics [or lack thereof], and his nose for occasional ruthlessness), but I do think for Logan the weaknesses outweigh the strengths, as they do with all his children.

As for Caroline, I do think it's Kendall. There's a post that's been going around for a while that Kendall is Caroline's Connor, which I appreciate the idea behind, but actually pretty vehemently disagree with. I think to reduce the complexity of Caroline and Connor's mother's respective relationships both to Logan and to their children diminishes the

I do think Caroline seems to feel least connected to Kendall, but we also have Logan making clear that Kendall was his heir (and as a result, his son - what's the quote? The heir, the spare, and then one for mum) from at least the time he was seven-years-old, and I think that combined with the fact that Kendall's inherently vulnerable in a way she herself has never been allowed to be and as a result doesn't know what to do with, is kind of quietly devastating.

Like, gosh, we see that three times over between the kids with Kendall trying to tell her about Dodds' death and her disappearing, to her awkward conversation with him at her wedding after he almost drowned, and then again with Roman crying at the funeral and her inability to leave the pew.

Harriet Walter actually did a great interview a while ago with The AV Club about Caroline and she talked a bit about how she always assumes Kendall wants to have it out with her about what a shit mother she is, and she just doesn't want to do that, which I also think is an interesting character note, especially as she seemed more willing to have that type of conversation with Shiv.

In that sense, I guess I do think Caroline feels the most distance from Kendall, but I think in a lot of ways her feelings about him are probably more complicated than Logan's are about Connor. There's so much dense terrain between them - a forest of her personal sense of failings as a first time mother, of Kendall never getting to really be her son, of the further forced separation Logan inflicted on her with all three of their children, of Kendall's vulnerabilities and addiction issues and suicide attempt which she has no tools or capacity to handle. It's complicated! And messy! And I don't think helped by the fact that Kendall's likely enabled that distance for more reasons than one.

[singlecrow]

What do you find has changed the most about how you write or experience some of the MASH characters over your years of writing them? :o Are there any that you find yourself liking more that you didn’t give much attention to in your earliest days of telling their stories?

for context: I started writing MASH fic in 2002. After a year or so I wandered off and wrote other things, then did it again in 2013, wandered off after six months or so, came back to it in June of this year and haven't wandered off yet. My 2013 fic is on the AO3 and is ok! The 2002 stuff isn't, and wasn't. I really like that apparently I come back every ten years to an old and beloved fandom, particularly when life is especially trying.

So, what's changed. The big change is that in 2002, I shipped Hawkeye and Trapper! (I'm not gonna say traphawk, we didn't have smushnames back then except in Buffy fandom and everyone made fun of Buffy fandom.) Anyway, I shipped them a lot! Partly because they're adorable (I still think that) and partly because Paramount in the UK only had the rights to the first three seasons of the show. What else do you do, except make lists of all the times they feed each other. And write fic about them feeding each other. I'm very glad it's not on the internet but I really did love them a lot. I think I wrote something about they came to build the still, which means for a short while in 2002 at the age of 14 I also knew how to build a still! a good time.

I don't have any ship fic for them online any more at all; in 2013 I was writing AUs and ensemble pieces (a daemon AU; a Vorkosigan AU - that one I have absolutely no explanation for; a modern dystopian AU; etc). Hawkeye is my favourite character in the show by a country mile, so he's always a thing in my stories.

So the big change is Margaret Houlihan, my beloved. I don't think I thought about her much at all before @cosmic-llin asked me to write five times Margaret Houlihan was really proud of herself, and someone else I forget who asked me to write her meeting CJ Cregg from the West Wing. (I can't find this one, I think it's probably on some long-deceased LJ/DW kinkmeme.)

After that, I was proud of her too! I stand by my view, with apologies to Llin who has done her best to convince me otherwise and almost succeeded, that Margaret during the Frank years can be interesting but is mostly unbearable. But she's interesting, and then the process of her becoming so much more than what she was is both very interesting and gives me feelings, and I adore her. My thing about her and Hawkeye - about how they mirror each other perfectly, in who and what they are and what they can become; and everything about their snippy, bone-deep, ridiculous friendship, is a relatively new thing which I've so enjoyed writing this time around. It shows up very briefly in 2011 where I think I wrote something about Hawkeye trying to rig the vote on the ERA for Margaret's benefit, but otherwise, this is the lovely new place I've got to, I've written seven stories now that are either entirely or significantly about their friendship and regret nothing. ❤️

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.7 some minor explanation

warnings : cussing

word count : 4.4k

0.7 Luke Gives Me Some Much Needed Context in a World Where I Need a Whole Encyclopedia to Understand Everything that is Going On

News of 'Allie Jackson' being in camp spread around quickly.

Luke led me all around camp and everywhere I went people would stop whatever they were doing and whisper among themselves. I wouldn't be able to hear most of what they said, but if I got lucky I'd catch a few bits and pieces. 

Most ranged from, "Holy SHIT, it's Allie Jackson," to, "I heard she fought the Minotaur. How badass is that?!" The only person in the whole camp who seemed to have a problem with my arrival was Annabeth, who I had yet to see again. 

Luke showed me a few places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough. He showed me the mess hall, which was an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

I was going to ask where we ate when it rained, but then I thought better of it. I'd just stepped into a world where the Greek gods were real; I doubted they needed to worry about the 'little' things like the weather. 

Then he took me to see the canoeing lake, the stables, the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, the archery range (which made me very excited and I'm sure Luke could tell), and the arena where Luke said they held sword and spear fights (this also made me excited, so much to the point where I didn't even wonder what kind of twisted summer camp had a sword and spear fighting arena). He took me to the armory, where he said all of the weapons and armor were held and that Chiron would get something that'd work for me later today.

Finally, he formally showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were, without a doubt, the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen. 

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a common area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flowerbeds, and a couple of basketball hoops.

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined fire pit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. I smiled at her and made a mental note to talk to her by the end of the day, if she was still there.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

Cabin three wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough graystone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. It reminded me of home, for some reason. I could've sworn I felt connected to it, but Luke dragged me towards the canoeing lake before I could think about it further.

I jumped up and sat on the railing that overlooked the lake. I thought over everything in my head. I'd met a few people; I'd found Silena Beauregard again, who was still as likable as when I first met her. Turns out, she was the half-sister of one of my co-workers, Vanessa Frost. Nessa and I had met on the set of Inception together and, while we didn't see each other much anymore, we'd become fast friends and always tried to get on the same movies and T.V. shows. I hadn't seen her in almost a year, so our reunion was very nice. 

Then, I finally ran into Danny, who had almost tackled me to the ground and startled the hell out of Luke. Danny had stopped attending Camp Half-Blood almost a decade and a half ago, when he turned 20 and decided he'd try his hand at surviving out in the world and college. He'd become my manager right out of college because I'd just turned six and my mom had started getting overwhelmed with the amount of casting calls and acting offers I'd been getting. He took a lower rate since he was so new and mom didn't have much money, but overtime he'd sort of become a surrogate father to me. He told me he was glad I hadn't died and gave me my phone and credit cards back. Luke seemed very confused at the device, so I asked why.

"Normally demigods don't use phones. You managed to get to sixteen without many monsters attacking you and you were using a phone? That's crazy," Luke replied.

"Oh, it's something me and Beckendorf have been working on," Danny said. Beckendorf, for the record, was a son of Hephaestus and Danny's half brother, who I'd met just a little after Danny found me. "Her public image is of utmost importance, so she needed to have a phone, mostly in order to keep in touch with her fans and promote what projects she has coming up. Only problem was: we suspected she was a demigod, especially after she used her phone and almost got attacked by four hellhounds. We'd asked her mom and she confirmed it, but convinced us not to take her here and wouldn't tell us who her father was. So me and Beckendorf managed to make a phone that attracted fewer monsters. It's not foolproof, but it works fairly well."

I'd met a girl named Katie Gardner, a daughter of Demeter, when we were walking past the strawberry field. She was super nice, and told me she'd help me out if I ever needed it, which I was thankful for. We clicked just as easily as Silena and I, and it was great since they were good friends, too. 

Then there was Will Solace, a happy-go-lucky seeming son of Apollo (he was the one who'd healed the back of my head and pretty much everything else I messed up, so I made sure to thank him for it) and Malcolm Pace, a son of Athena, who, thankfully, wasn't insufferable like his half-sister. I'd practically run into another girl, Brylie Vegas, a younger one, around fourteen, who was a daughter of Hermes. She had recognized me as soon as we almost collided and had basically broken her back to keep from bumping into me. She was sweet and shy, so I made sure she didn't feel uncomfortable before Luke told her he had to continue showing me around. 

I did see Clarisse around once or twice, but we never were able to stop and talk for more than a few seconds. 

Luke let me think for a few seconds before speaking, which was something I liked about him; he had tact. 

"Is there a headache forming yet?" he joked, leaning up against the rail beside where I was sitting. 

"Oh, there was a headache as soon as I woke up," I replied, giving him a small smile. "As far as all of—" I titled my head looking for the right word and ended up waving my hand in the direction we'd come from— "this... it's not as bad as I think it should be. I feel like if Danny had dragged me here a few years ago I'd be flipping my shit and calling everyone out, saying they were kidding and stuff like that. I might've even thought Danny had just pulled a massive prank on me, killing the Minotaur or not. I'd have thought I was going insane."

"I get that. I was thinking about how you were taking this better than most. You're not the first person we've had to react like you are, but it doesn't happen very often."

"Like I said, too many things started adding up. I can't really deny things when they're standing right in front of my face, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," He replied. "So, do you have any dire questions that need to be answered?"

"What's the deal with the whole Minotaur thing? Didn't Theseus kill him like... centuries ago in the Labyrinth? How was he... I don't know, back?" 

"That's pretty simple, kind of. Chiron calls them archetypes. They get killed, but they don't ever die for good. They get sent to Tartarus and start reforming. There's never a set time that they're down there, either. If you're lucky, they could be stuck reforming for decades; if you're not, it could take a few days." 

I nodded. "Okay, I can wrap my head around that." I paused. "Why does Athena have children? I thought she was supposed to be a maiden goddess like Hera and Artemis."

"She is," Luke confirmed. "That one's also pretty simple. When she meets someone with a high intellect who she takes a liking to, she talks to them for a while and then imagines what their child would look like. So her children are basically born from her thoughts, like she was from Zeus'."

I gave him an odd look. "That's..."

"Weird? Kinda gross?" he suggested. 

"Well, I was gonna say 'traumatic' but, yeah those work, too, I guess." He laughed and nodded at me to continue. "Okay, kinda off-topic question, but are we allowed to leave? And like... what happens if you choose not to leave during the winter?"

"Leaving is more or less suicide, depending on how good you are and if your scent is powerful enough. Once you reach a certain age, Chiron and Mr. D let you leave more often than not, but the younger ones have to have specific instructions. Even you and I would have to get a quest or something to have a good enough reason to leave. As for our education, Chiron teaches us everything if you choose to stay. Which a lot of people do, considering most of us have awful home lives." He looked at me. "But again there are exceptions— like how Danny can go to the mortal world to be your manager. You'd probably have some of the same exemptions because of your job." 

"That's why I was asking," I told him, nodding. "Alright, this is my last question, I promise. I'm starting to feel annoyed for you," I joked. 

Luke smirked at me. "Don't worry, Angel, I could listen to you talk all day."

I shook my head, trying to fight a smile. "Why are some of the cabins empty?"

Luke took a deep breath and released it before he answered. "Cabin Two belongs to Hera," he started, obviously choosing his words carefully. "As the goddess of marriage, all her children are Zeus'." I nodded as Luke went on. "Cabin Eight is Artemis' cabin. She doesn't have kids but her Hunters stay there when they come to visit camp."

From his grimace, I guessed that he had bad memories of the Hunters, either at Camp or out.

"Then there's One and Three," he explained, looking apprehensive. "They're for Zeus and Poseidon. The Big Three aren't supposed to have children anymore."

"Why not?" I couldn't stop myself from pushing. "From what I can remember, a good majority of the Greek myths are based off of Zeus' children. And Poseidon had his fair share mentioned, as well."

He nodded to me like I'd answered my own question. "That's pretty much why, kind of. Officially, their children are too powerful. We inherit powers from our parents' domains and Big Three kids are the strongest demigods, like the Three themselves are the strongest gods. Zeus' kids could call down lightning strikes or cause tornadoes. A son of Poseidon caused the Long Beach earthquake in 1933, killed 120 people. And supposedly his descendant was accused of causing the 1906 one as well. And Adolf Hitler was a son of Hades, and that's enough said about that. Supposedly they're too powerful to control themselves."

"So, what, they all just collectively decided to not have children anymore? I wouldn't think that would hold up in the long run."

"Well, sort of. After World War II, which had Hitler for the Axis Powers, and Roosevelt, a son of Zeus, and Churchill, son of Poseidon, for the Allies, leading it, the Big Three took an oath on the Styx to never sire any other demigod children again."

Finally, his wording processed in my brain. "And the unofficial reason?" I asked.

Luke shot me a wry grin. "Caught that huh? Yeah, that's not the real reason. If it was, they probably would've tried centuries ago. The only heroes recorded to have fought gods or Titans and lived, sometimes even defeated them, were Big Three kids, after all. Really, what happened was the Oracle made a prophecy. A child of the Big Three would either save or destroy Olympus, and Western Civilization with it once they turned twenty. That's why they made the Oath. And because of that, they aren't supposed to have kids anymore."

"But they didn't keep it," I guessed carefully. "You said that they aren't supposed to have kids anymore, not that they don't at all."

"Clever girl. You could be a child of Athena if your hair wasn't so white and your eyes were grayer. All of her children seem to have those features," Luke told me. "I don't think that fits quite right, though."

He flashed a grin at me but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. Pain and grief were in his eyes as he continued, trying to keep as emotionless as possible. 

"About nineteen years ago, Zeus had an affair with a TV starlet named Beryl Grace— I wouldn't be surprised if you've heard of her."

I had, of course. Beryl Grace was a Hollywood tragedy. Danny used to tell me her story to scare me into making sure I stayed responsible, no matter who it was that offered me something. Still, I let him explain it to me. 

"They ended up having a daughter. Thalia. She ran away from home when she was nine. Camp sent a satyr to get her to safety, but she'd teamed up with two other demigods. Their combined scent was too strong, and Hades was enraged by Zeus breaking the Oath. They were attacked constantly and the satyr eventually made a wrong turn. They got to the hill but they wouldn't have made it over the border. Thalia made the others go ahead while she bought them time. As she was—" He faltered in his monotone telling of Thalia's fate before forcing himself to continue. "As she was dying, Zeus turned her into that pine tree. Her lifeforce strengthens the barriers. Keeps all of us safe."

I studied him for a minute in silence before speaking tentatively. "You and Annabeth were the demigods she teamed up with, weren't you?" 

It was a statement, not a question. Luke nodded, looking pained. I didn't say 'I'm sorry', knowing from experience how much it doesn't help. I just took his hand and sat in silence with him as he weathered the renewed storm of grief.

"Why tell me all of this?" I asked eventually. I thought it was a valid question. He didn't have to tell me the unofficial parts of the— well, it seemed wrong to call it a story when Thalia had died because of it. History, then.

He turned to look at me and I was startled at the intensity of his blue eyes. I could practically see the different shades in them.

"I'm not a son of Apollo," he told me. "I don't see the future. But I do have good instincts. And they're telling me that it's important that you know this, and as soon as possible, too."

I bit my lip, dread coursing through me at the thought of this information being relevant to my future. My mother's voice, echoing a long-forgotten conversation I'd eavesdropped on a year and a half ago, sounded in my head. 

"She's not here right now. She's probably on her way back from the airport. Even if she was here, I wouldn't give up my baby! How can you ask me to?" 

"I'm asking you to for her sake!" the man's voice snapped back, though it didn't have the bite in it that a statement like that usually would. "If you keep her with you, they'll find her eventually. It's only a matter of time."

"She is barely even with me. She's been in Georgia for the past month filming Marvel movies and in a few days she leaves for London for Fashion Week. Three months she goes on tour for her new album, with too many more things in between that I can't even say 'no' to— what more can you ask of me?" 

"Even so, every moment she's here, she's in danger. You told me years ago that you'd let her go when she was 10. What happened to that?" My mother hadn't replied so the man continued, "Zeus' daughter is dead, which means I have nothing to use against him to settle his anger when he finds out about Allie—"

"That's my daughter you're talking about!" Mom interrupted, sounding horrified. "How can you think of an innocent girl as leverage?"

"She's not leverage, but I am thinking of Allie. Sally—"

"No, I won't. I'm done. Leave, you only put her in more danger by coming here. If you stay any longer they'll be drawn here sooner rather than later."

I never figured out who she was talking to and never told her about it— so I pushed all memory of it to the back of my head and never thought about it again. Or, at least, I hadn't thought about it again. 

"I really hope you're wrong about that," I told Luke hoarsely after the sound of a conch shell being blown returned me to the present. How the hell I knew it was a conch shell is beyond me, but I decided I didn't really care. He straightened, offering me his hand to help me to my feet.

"Me too. Come on, that's the call for dinner."

As the pavilion came into view, I saw torches blazing from the columns and a central fire was burning inside a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each table had a white cloth with purple trim. I liked it, it had a friendly, comfortable air to it.

Everyone in Cabin 11 lined up behind Luke and followed him to our table where we were served our dinner by wood nymphs. I wasn't surprised that the food itself was Greek-style healthy food. I had BBQ, grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, and fresh bread. I was positive this was something my dietician would have approved of, so I wasn't too particularly worried about eating all of it. Actually, I'm sure he wished I'd eat this every day and nothing else. 

Luke leaned over to whisper into my ear. "We have to sacrifice a bit of our meals to the gods before eating," he explained softly to me. "I'll show you."

I took the few seconds I had to look around at everybody. In all, there were maybe a little over a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads.

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur. As I scanned the room I caught the eyes of a few people I'd met earlier today, and they all smiled at me, which made me feel a lot more comfortable. 

Luke led me up to the brazier with our plates. For a second, I was sure that I saw the same young-looking girl sitting in the flames but when I blinked, the image was gone again.

Luke pushed a small portion of his meal into the fire, saying "Hermes," in a clear tone. I stepped up beside him, hesitating for a moment before pushing in some of my own food.

"Hestia and Hermes," I muttered. The brazier had reminded me of Hestia, whom I'd always liked the most in the myths, or history books I suppose. And seeing as I was staying in Hermes' cabin, it seemed like basic politeness to give him some too.

"Most people just direct it to their parents," Luke commented lowly as we wandered back to the table.

I jutted out my chin stubbornly. "It takes more than conceiving a kid to be a parent, Luke," I replied. "If he acknowledges me, I'll sacrifice to him, too. Don't see the point of doing so before that."

He glanced down at me, a smile playing on his lips. "Angel, you are definitely gonna be a breath of fresh air around here."

I smiled and as soon as we sat down we were joking around and talking with everyone at the Hermes table. They wanted to know a lot about me, most of which didn't include the 'celebrity' part of my life, which I was thankful for. After being slightly overwhelmed all day, it was nice getting to talk with them. 

I had somehow ended up on Luke's lap after he insisted that it would be much more comfortable than getting my hips crushed on the seat, so after a few jokes, I moved. When I did, Brylie, the girl I'd almost ran into earlier, basically begged me to let her braid my hair. I didn't complain much, considering I really needed to do something with my hair. Once she finished her dinner, she was content as she waited for the rest of us. 

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention. 

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels." 

A bunch of excited cheering rose from the Ares table. Clarisse was the loudest, but didn't seem to mind at all. 

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Angie Johnson." 

Chiron murmured something."Er, Allie Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that." Chiron murmured something again. "And he wishes me to tell you all not to harass her with questions and such." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on." 

Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I felt that I was home. 

People still came over to me and wanted to talk, but it didn't make me feel weird like it did when I was walking the streets of Manhattan. These people were now technically my family. I'd only been there for a day, but it definitely wasn't as bad as it could've been. 

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. All of the Hermes cabin (save for a few of the younger ones, like a six-year-old girl, Julie Dixon who was very obviously a daughter of Athena), decided to stay up and get to know me. They asked a lot about my hobbies outside of acting and singing and modeling and stuff like that, which made me happy. I didn't feel singled out, or anything, which was one of the first times I could say that without lying. 

I asked all of them questions, too, and we all became super close in a single night. We laughed and it was only when someone thought they heard Chiron making his way towards us did we finally go to sleep. 

I hadn't realized how tired I was until I'd finally laid down and listened to the ocean. I felt my muscles relax and I knew I'd like it here. 

My last thoughts were of my mother and if I'd ever see her again. Considering the underworld was a real thing, I guessed I would. I hoped wherever she was, it was paradise. After everything she did for me and everything she sacrificed for me, she deserved it.

*    *    *

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SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

[kidelune]

TW: Mature themes, death, violence, blood, all that jazz. Read at your own discretion.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (1/2), nine (2/2)

Let all the vile and suppurating venoms of the night spit in the eyes of God and blind her to our evil.

[Breaking News (31 October, 2023): Notorious drug ring gang members arrested en masse after a major brawl breaks out near Incheon Port in broad daylight]

[30–31 October, 2023. Somewhere between Yongsan and Incheon]

Have you seen the news going around on the 31st? Do you recall the full context of the coverage articles? Let me jog your memory for you: written by an obviously politically motivated prick, spreading bullshit about violent gang members, mass arrest, and body counts. Then something else about a notoriously wanted drug ring leader turning up dead a few hours after, his leaked identity shocking the general public into an instant uproar. Yeah, I mean that news, something about... trouble, trouble, and more trouble.

Was not my cup of tea in general as you would imagine, at least not that abysmal holier-than-thou attitude it'd been written with. But I can't deny that the evidence was still all there. And as per usual, it made the population anxious. What the president of a well known major corp. being the mafia all along implied for the rest was that any thriving day-to-day establishment they adored so much could also have been sponsored by the 'bad guys'. Any neighbor or relative a pawn to other men and women who would reach all horrifying ends with their lives to get what they wanted. This allows me another chance at reminding you, though, that crime organizations have always been deeply ingrained in our society, even more than they are today. It's just a matter of getting caught at the wrong moment and having no connections to back yourself up with.

I'd been heavily medicated and asleep when it all first blew up in the early morning. Didn't even notice my body being dragged from one room to another and finally laid to rest, despite all the excruciating aches and sores I'd earned during the many hours spent in captivity. My dad had to read it to me twelve hours later, twelve hours of the final escalations and then de-escalations of the day before being real and strictly unrefuted. I didn't somehow dream it all up. It was real how all it took was one night for more of my old friends to end up dead. My boss had been killed on his own turf, the drug ring he'd lead for most of his life and the life of his father before him crippled beyond repair. A legacy left behind to rot on the bloodied doorsteps of history. Finally, scores I've taken part in rousing all these years have been settled and I was allowed to walk free. Everybody lost, everybody won. But at what cost?

My dad had been caught by the same people who had me in their custody, tied at the same joints I was and thrown around along with some other guys on our side. They'd recognized him, though, and news of him being at large again spread far and wide enough in the ranks to reach my ear within an hour or so, if I had to make a guess. We didn't even catch him, I heard them whisper behind my back, he came and purposely gave himself up. He'd been pretty roughed up, and I could tell for sure by just looking at him, though it wasn't nearly as bad a hand as the one I'd been dealt.

"They were afraid. And they didn't exactly know what I wanted, though it was obvious," pops had said after I asked him why. "I could tell. They were perplexed and afraid". Even after all these years and secure layers of thick rope, they were still afraid of Kim Junseo. They had not washed the blood off my back the night before. Not until after I'd heard of my father's presence, almost a day later. I wonder what they'd say now if they were to see him in the kitchen, humming around a cigarette while he cooks dinner in an apron.

I do wonder if Yunho had heard he was here, too, and what his presence meant in terms of the future. Did he linger on purpose? Is that why he'd disappeared entirely?

As for me, the abrupt news of my father's captivity had shocked me so profoundly I think I had slipped into some sort of comatose state for a while. I swear I couldn't breathe nor feel the pain of my injuries ripping apart all the sinews in my back, thighs and arms with every miniscule movement. I could only stare at the ground and hold in my mouth a tongue that felt far too large for it, and a desperate series of pleads and cries that may get me burnt again. He was so close yet so far away from me. Was supposed to be in Kyoto. Was supposed to be far away from all of this. And yet he was there, and with him came an opportunity the syndicate would've never again gotten. A bone made of gold for the wildest dog.

They struck the deal with me over the phone as though they knew they had hardly any time left to relay the message, let alone come in personally to slap or carve it into me. A man whose voice I scarcely recognized growled to me, and I quote, "It's either you and your father's lives, or Lee Gun-pyo's life. Two piglets to a boar. We let you go, you take us to him. Kill him, and you and your father will never hear from us again." Later, my father would tell me that he leads the Reds.

I said only—or rather croaked, "Yes."

And only truly felt the sheer gravity of that choice after waking up to my pops beside me the next day. After seeing my partner for the first time in two eternities. Only then could I finally grasp at and understand the one and truest meaning of my life. Love so hard that it kills you.

They let me go just shy after our location had finally been leaked. Bound, still, though, I couldn't run even from myself. Only talk, for the lives I intended to save. This had been my bone, and I no other choice but to chew on it blindly while it was still intact and mine to bury. I've recently been such a bad dog to my owner, anyway. Give a dog a bone and he'll find his way home.

We got there sometime past twelve in the morning when they finally began to untie me. It's was a really small and narrow 떡볶이 restaurant cornering two empty streets, and was often empty. I knew the area and place very little, except that it was ran by the unfortunate mother of a man who'd passed away serving Gun-pyo years ago. I believe he was their sponsor. Before, I had been there only twice to eat and then exchange information for pay and new tasks with the same one man that sat inside every time. October 30th would it's last day in business for a really, really long time. If only the food had been any good.

Now, I don't want any of this to read as though I'm an innocent saint that harbored not even a fraction of desire to kill my patron myself. Believe me, the size of my desire had grown fucking behemoth at this point. I was thirsty to bite off the same hands that had been feeding me scraps all my life. That's how bad of a dog I was, and still am. I don't even consider myself a victim at this point. It's just karma. I might even forgo surgery and instead bear these scars on my back for the rest of my life, as I already do the rest.

What particulars I had against this was that me gutting my patron with kitchen scissors that night had not been a choice I'd decided on by my own terms. My hands, breaking the law and fixing another all at once, were forced, the fighting a brutal blur in time, and my back fucking ached. I was hanging by a thread exhausted and tattered to such awful degrees that I'm sitting here now, writing this and considering the fact that I'd been one of the only survivors alive in the end to be a complete miracle. The van had been full when we arrived on location, and left only with three in the end.

I'd just killed a man, I thought. Before he slipped out of my grip he managed to grab my shirt sleeve with what had been the last of his strength, looked up at me and said, "I should've put you down when I had the chance."

I hadn't been able to register it in the chaos of the moment back then, but as I think of his eyes now I can trace back no hatred in the brittle frost of them on me, despite his words. He'd made me into the dog that I am now, after all. He knew all along that this day would come for the both of us. So I killed him and simultaneously, part of myself, knowing that it would've, too.

Give a dog a bone and he will bury it.

[cyberbenb]

Russian missile strike on Izyum: at least five killed in latest assault on Ukraine

In the wake of another Russian missile strike on Ukraine, which occurred on the afternoon of Tuesday, February 4, in the city of Izyum in the Kharkiv region, at least five people were killed, according to reports from the head of the Kharkiv Regional Military Administration, Oleh Synehubov. Among the injured were 38 individuals, including a 15-year-old girl who sustained moderate shrapnel injuries. Seven people were hospitalized. For more details, refer to this report and an additional piece discussing the broader impacts.

"The enemy launched a ballistic missile strike on the central part of Izyum. The Russians hit an administrative building, damaging another nearby administrative structure and several residential high-rise buildings. There were no military targets in this area," Synehubov noted in his first statement.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky conveyed his condolences to the families and loved ones of the victims on his Telegram channel, emphasizing that "such brutality cannot be reconciled with." He underscored the need for increased pressure on Russia by employing all available measures—military strength, sanctions, and diplomatic efforts—"to stop the terror and protect lives," sharing footage from the scene of what he labeled a war crime. Read more about President Zelensky's response here.

In the early hours of February 4, Russian forces attacked Ukraine with 65 striking drones launched from the areas of Orel, Kursk, and Bryansk. This was reported by Ukraine's Air Force via their Telegram channel. According to a release, Ukrainian air defense forces managed to shoot down 37 drones over five regions of Ukraine. An additional 28 drones were "locally lost." "The enemy's attack affected the Sumy and Cherkasy regions," stated Air Force officials.

Russian aerial attacks on Ukrainian cities have become almost a daily occurrence since the outset of Russia's full-scale war against Ukraine, a conflict that has persisted for nearly three years. Discover further context on the ongoing war here. Russian officials continue to assert that their military is solely targeting Ukrainian military facilities, claims that have been repeatedly disproven by independent sources, including journalists.

[transzodiacdogmom]

My drawing tablet is on the fritz right as I was writing for my comic which is my passion project, so I don't want to forget what I was writing so I just wrote it all here. it's missing context cause it's taken from late in the story of my comic/manga series. Feel free to ignore this, read it or whatever. I'm not good at actually writing, writing. I'm much more visual and whatnot, which is why I'm trying to make it a manga, but again, I didn't want my work to go to waste so I just wrote it here. No one will read it anyways. Been going through a lot the past few days and haven't slept in two days but it's whatever, y'know. Also a good person told me once I need to try and put my stuff out into the world, so that's me doing that, even though no one cares and whatnot and I'm just a speck in the vastness of tumblr.

==========================

"4,383 Days." She spoke, her voice calm as her face was lit by a nearby street-light, emitting a humming noise, barely heard with the sound of cars passing by.

"What?" He asked, looking confused at her.

"4,383 Days. That's Thirteen-years." She added, looking at the one that was beside her, who still was very confused by what she meant. "Yeah, I have no idea what you're going on about." He responded.

These two were unalike from one another, aside from the sole-fact that they lost something dear to them, something they'd never be able to get back regardless how hard they tried, but with their own opposite views on their situations. Memories are the core part of Life, most say they define people, their past and future alike, but the woman here, she thought differently.

A Sheep, stood at 5ft 12in at height, dressed in a purple jacket with a barrage of odd lettering and symbols on it. Over the sleeves lined with question-marks slithering down to the cuffs, and a few stitches. At the waist of the jacket, the same symbols repeated across, almost in a dancing manner, each symbol inverse of the other. It was unlike any jacket anyone has ever seen before, really. She had made it herself, to be in align with her goals, her convictions. Across her wool of hair on her head lie a headband with one more question-mark ontop of it, coated in a pink coloring, catching the eyes of anyone that passed by. It had to be made in a specific way to accommodate for her owns as well. Her eyes crimson, circles underneath. They were almost sunken, as if something lied beneath them, something dead that died quite some time ago. She was likely almost in her early twenties.

Across her, lied a wolf, standing himself at 5'10, shorter than the person he found himself with. His hair dark red, like embers of a fire, and his eyes blue like the sea that stretched out across the beaches of where he woke up, and had started his new life. He donned a jacket, colored with a violent violet, and black t-shirt underneath, with a abstract structure on the front, one that if looked at too long would make your head dizzy and spin. He had a more simplistic taste in his fashion than the other, though at least they both wore just any run-of-the-mill jeans. He couldn't be sure how old he was, as for he couldn't remember his own birthday...He couldn't remember anything, but was likely still around Seven-teen years of age.

Neya, the woman Sheep, stood there, hands in her pockets as she gazed out into the city lights, a field of color that spread darkness thin the deeper and closer those lights became. "Thirteen-Years. Wouldn't you say that's a long time?" She had asked him, head turning, her eyes began to pierce into his own, a clash it felt like. As if putting two magnets next to each other, doing their best to push away.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms and leaned against a wall behind him. It be clear to anyone that he was met with his own reservations about Neya. "Yeah, I guess so. It's a decade and three years. I don't understand what this has to do with anything though." He answered, his voice a little higher than most for his age, with a feminine touch to it as well, and as gentle as ever.

She chuckled a little, closing her eyes and smiling softly. "If you and I were friends for that long, what would you think?" Her eyes opened again, and that clashing from earlier returned.

The boy didn't speak a word, and it was difficult to tell if he was humoring her question or ignoring it, but soon his voice would break through a brief silence with his own answer. "Well, For starters." He began. "I don't think we'd ever be 'Friends' so-to-speak. But, if by some miracle, we were, and it was for that long? I'd say that it was likely meant to be?...I guess? I don't know." His shoulders shrugged once more.

"Humor me some more, Itsuki. Do you think we'd ever fall apart?"

Once more, the boy, now known as Itsuki, had to think some more, though was a bit confused and shocked by her adding to her question. It wasn't something he thought about, losing people, friends, though now that he was. The thought terrified him. "For thirteen-years, I hope we wouldn't. I mean..." He paused, almost as if he was choking on his own voice for a moment, unable to get his words out, till he finally did. "That's a long time to be friends that...I feel like after that mark...You'd...We'd...Be more than friends?..." He finished, only to then realize what he said, getting defensive quickly as his face began to glow bright red with blush. "Not in a romantic sense. But, at that point you'd practically be family with whoever your friends with."

All Neya could do was laugh at how strung up he got on his words for a moment, clearly not feeling anything in regards to that 'more than friends.' comment he mentioned.

Itsuki shook his head, clearing his head of those thoughts, feeling embarrassed he misspoke, though hoped the Sheep didn't misconstrue what he was saying. "Why are you asking this, exactly?"

Her laughing ceased, almost immediately after he had spoke, a sudden shift in gears in her mind. To Itsuki, seeing someone shift so...Easily, and quickly, it was a little creepy.

"You'd be more than friends. I agree. You'd be family at that point. Many years of friendship like that, consistent? You and whoever friend this would be, you'd face everything together. You'd see each others flaws and no matter what, you'd love one another, wouldn't you? Despite everything?"

A look of confusion was formed on the wolf's face. It was always a riddle, or a weird way of phrasing words together. Neya was always acting unlike anyone else he'd ever met. She was unpredictable, with her words, actions, and thoughts. Luckily, she was also someone who kept to her word, and she had only asked him here to talk to one another, so while Itsuki did get a bit defensive, standing straight from that wall he was leaning on prior, and arms at his sides now, he knew nothing would likely happen...but still, she was unpredictable.

He breathed in, then exhaled sharply. "You could call it family," Itsuki began. "Though something like that, I feel, would go past beyond labels..."

That was something Neya didn't think of, that this kind of thing couldn't be labelled, making her smile more, possibly in part to hearing Itsuki say something smart for once. She didn't think him dumb or anything, but Neya did have a bit of a superiority complex over everyone else.

Suddenly, Neya walked over and trapped Itsuki against the wall, arms extended out, trapping him between them as that crimson mixed with his blue. It, to no ones surprise, startled him, even gasping from fear, though he tried to remain calm. This was just to talk.

"It goes beyond labels. It's stronger than anything else in the world, right? To those two people?...Now what happens if you took it away? All those years, thrown away over one mistake, what happens then?" Suddenly she got this crazed look in her eyes, and a sinister smile formed at him, as if she was in some way enjoying this, like it was fun for her to think about these things.

He gulped, sweat already beginning to trickle down his forehead. "I...I don't know." He answered. He honestly didn't, he's never been in that situation before, and he couldn't even imagine being in it.

Neya pushed her face closer to his, her hair almost tickling at his ears. "Imagine if you and Ri-Et go on, you're friends till you're thiry-something, then over one mistake, he tells you he moved on from you. How would you feel?" Bringing Ri-Et into the equation was something that really unsettled Itsuki. He was his best friend, he was the one who found him after he woke up on that beach that day. When he didn't know anything, he didn't know anyone. Ri-Et was there. He even gave Itsuki his name, when he couldn't remember it. Gave him a home, everything. Ri-Et was integral to Itsuki, and he to Ri-Et.

"I...Would you shut up? I don't want to even think about that--" Itsuki was interrupted, Neya grabbing at his neck now and holding hem there, that look of enjoyment on her face turning to one of displeasure and disappointment, seemingly not liking Itsuki's response.

"How. Would. You. Feel?" She reiterated those four words, slowly, piercing Itsuki's eyes with her own, wanting a direct answer this time, and not some defensive comment telling her to shut up or whatever. Neya was someone you didn't want to tell shut up to, and yet Itsuki would always oppose her, as she was his foil.

He gulped again, this time it was harder feeling those fingers gripping his throat, tightly, squeezing, but not necessarily choking him; He could still breathe, but not easily. "I...I'd be broken without...him," Itsuki said. "I don't think I could live...without him. He's always been around for me. But he'd...he'd never...He'd never leave."

"But what if he did? What if he said that the found others that impacted him more than you ever did? That his love for you was gone. What then? Kill yourself? Respect his wishes? What would you do? What would you do, Itsuki?."

He struggled in her grasp, trying to break free but Neya was stronger than most. He wasn't even scared of what Neya was doing, Itsuki knew he'd likely be safe from her no matter what she did given his ability, the one he couldn't control. The thing that scared him, however, was what she was saying.

The thought of losing someone he loved closely. Leaving him, moving on from him. The idea that someone he cares for, could just vanish in a instant, as if they were never there in the first place.

It terrified him. Enough so tears were beginning to form at his eyes.

"Your loved ones always will leave you. The people you want to stay connected with will leave you. And over what? A mistake they made that they beg they could fix?" Where was this coming from? It was beginning to sound like this was more personal to Neya, than just a random nightly thought whilst staring at the stars in the sky. "No second chances? Just immediately gone. You'd be replaced. You. People bring certain qualities to themselves that makes them unique? What drivel." Neya finally loosened up, stepping back from Itsuki with her head hung over, looking at her feet and the ground below her. "You can be replaced, no matter what. Even after thirteen-years. But I guess it just makes sense, right?"

Another question, as Itsuki began to rub where she had held him earlier, catching his breath while also not trying to cry at the thought of losing his best friend. "The hell are you talking about, Neya?"

She looked at him again, another wicked smile on her face. "Thirteen is the unluckiest number. I just knew this perfect couple, once, had been friends for that long, and one made one simple mistake and the other...cut it off. You think I'm evil, Itsuki?"

Well, yes, he thought as much. She was known for mashing screwdrivers into people's skulls, she was evil especially with what she wanted for the whole world. But he was curious, she was challenging his thoughts and preconceived notions about her, something she did often, but, each time Itsuki was curious to hear what she thought was true evil, if she wasn't herself.

"I'm not evil. Say what you will about me, and how I view memories and whatnot, but true evil...Are those kind of people. The people who will destroy a unique enough bond that was strong for thirteen-years, and moving on without a care of the fallout for the other. The couple I mentioned? After the one who cut ties left, the other was distraught, broken. She was so hurt that she was lost for the rest of her life, which wasn't at all long. She never made it to thirty." Neya explained all of this to Itsuki, in a fashion he'd not heard before. As much as Itsuki wishes Neya would leave his life, she always kept by him so he was beginning to know her quite well, and knew how she talked, and acted but here?...This was different. Neya's voice sounded angrier than it ever had before, that she was physically upset by this couple that she saw, her body even shaking and her fists instinctively clenching, teeth gritting and grinding against each other. "This poor girl who truly loved someone, who wanted to change, being left to rot by someone because they found someone else. Saying the relationship was damaged and unfixable...Not even considering the thought of trying to start a different one with her, not even giving her the chance to try and change. That's true evil. Poor girl ended her life, hairdryer in the bathtub, really sad. Do you think the other went to her funeral?" She asked, turning her head to Itsuki, her face just as angry as her voice.

Itsuki didn't say a word.

"They didn't even know. How could they? They cut all communication. Over one simple mistake..." Neya sighed, trying to calm herself down. "Looking into every other dimension I could. Every one I could find that was exactly like this one, both of them lived. Together. Giving her a second chance saved her, saved their relationship. But that's...only in other dimensions. And not the Prime one." Neya began walking towards the road, cars still whirring past, oblivious to the two civilians. "I'm sorry I said those things about you and your idiot friend Ri-Et, but this whole thing has been bothering me and I needed an outsiders perspective on it. Itsuki, if you manage to somehow thwart my plans entirely, and get to live a nice life with your daffy-pals." Well that was one word to describe them. "Promise me that you'll hold on to them. See past their flaws, give them the chances to change, force them if you have to. Otherwise, you'll be just as evil as the other. Which is more evil than you think that I am." Neya never thought what she was doing was evil, she never believed herself to be evil, she always thought she was doing the best thing for the world...but she had a real messed up away of doing it.

Suddenly, without warning, Neya jumped right into traffic, causing Itsuki's heart to sink as a car came right in time to impact with her, and yet, Neya wasn't there in the blink of an eye.

The car swerved, causing a pile up, drivers hopping out their windows, yelling obscenities at each other. She likely dived into another dimension, Neya couldn't help but be dramatic with it all.

And then, there was only Itsuki, left by himself on the sidewalk, left with the thoughts that Neya gave him. The thoughts of Friendship, abandonment, and how just not giving the chance to someone to fix things could make everything worse. His heart sank as he thought about, imagining himself in that position. His connections to his friends were the most important thing to him, and he'd never want to lose them...but what if he couldn't hold on? What if he lost them? Ri-Et, Lilac, and Dayta...These people that he loved and called his own family even, even if one of them disappeared...Itsuki would be lost just as the girl Neya told him about.

Thirteen-Years. Feelings can't fade after that long. It's impossible. Right?...What was one to do? How could they fix that?...It was easy to become so lost by one simple mishap.