#god i hope this breakthrough is the right track and it works out cause then I can do some other pieces in a similar style and-

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

*walks up to the mic* I may be working on another Rangi (prev one) themed trace animation (should I just call it a MAD? I feel like that's what it is but less words....wait wait I think the term is Handwritten MAD/手書きMAD specifically....... TT0TT).

But cool news.........I think....I might be having a break through on ways I wanna try coloring some of the Persona manga. So I might take another stab at this piece again once I'm done..... Anyway!

*drops mic, and then crab walks away*

[moonknightly]

and i didn’t like the ending : nathan bateman x reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

Excerpt: “You slide down to the floor after putting his glasses on top of your head, and he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look at you, but he doesn’t let go.”

Warnings: Cursing, angst, relationship problems ie fighting and shit like that. That’s it?

You’re not sure how it’s gotten to this point.

All of the fighting, all of the screaming — it seems to be all you do nowadays. It’s taken over every little aspect of your life, worked its way into every nook and cranny and surfaces in even the most mundane things. The arguments you have in the day even plague your dreams at night.

When you actually get the chance to dream at all, that is. You don’t sleep, you hardly eat. You don’t reach over in the middle of the night in search of a warm, familiar body underneath the sheets.

Most nights he’s not even in bed.

But that’s okay, you think. You’d rather have the bed to yourself. At least he doesn’t have to hear you cry.

You’re crying now, hoping, praying that the exhaustion will settle in so you can just get some fucking sleep. You just need your mind to quit racing, you just need for it to shut up.

How has it gotten to this point?

You’re not sure where you went wrong, you’re not sure what you’ve done to make him hate you so much.

You push that thought away immediately. He doesn’t hate you, you know he doesn’t. If he hated you, he wouldn’t waste his breath on you. He wouldn’t be trying.

God, he’s trying. That much you can admit. You’re watching him work to mend things and you want for it to be enough, why can’t it just be enough?

You’re not even fucking sure what the two of you fight over anymore. It just seems like it’s everything, no matter how small. Even when you’re both fine, all it’ll take is five minutes and one wrong glance and you’ll be at each other’s throats.

He’s trying, though, at least you think he is. He still makes your tea in the mornings, still throws your towel into the dryer while you’re in the shower. He still washes your hair when you don’t feel like doing so and he still passes you one of his shirts at bedtime, even if he sneaks off into a guest room after.

You wonder if that’s where he is now. Part of you likes to think he’s crying too, holding a pillow to his chest just like you are now, wishing that the little things were still enough.

You just want them to be enough.

But of course they’re not, they never will be again. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how long he continues to try and fix things through his little acts of kindness, it’ll never be enough.

It doesn’t fix the problem.

Whatever the fucking problem is.

You don’t even know what it is and it fucking sucks because if you knew, maybe then you could do something about it.

The clock on your nightstand reads 3am, and you know it’s not the time to be questioning this again. Even well rested, you just can’t figure it out. Trying to do so exhausted? You won’t get anywhere.

You need a fucking drink. Maybe that will help you sleep.

You push the covers away from your body and fix his t-shirt, straightening it out as you leave the bedroom. The lights in the hallways turn on automatically as you walk, and the floors are warm beneath your feet. You’re thankful for it, thankful that you don’t have to worry about cold toes and dark corners. It’s small, but it’s still a comfort that helps you feel just a little more at ease, just a little bit better.

You almost fail to notice that the lights are already on in the kitchen when you enter, and you stop in your tracks when you do but you don’t see him when you survey the room. You shrug to yourself — must be something wrong with the sensors.

But then your foot kicks something when you round the island and you look down to find Nathan with his back to one of the cabinets, a beer in his hand and his glasses on the floor next to him. He doesn’t seem to notice you, even though you’ve touched him, and you kick him again just to see.

This time it registers. This time, he reaches up and grabs hold of your wrist, his fingers gentle against your skin even as he tugs. He wants you to sit next to him.

And you do. You slide down to the floor after putting his glasses on top of your head, and he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look at you, but he doesn’t let go. You reach for the bottle in his hands with your free one and take a swig.

You’re almost expecting him to make some smartass remark about it, but he stays quiet.

Another thing you’re thankful for. You don’t have the energy for another fight.

Nathan continues to stay quiet for you don’t know how long, not a word escaping the man who usually loves to hear himself talk as you pass the bottle back and forth.

It’s nice.

You’ve missed just sitting with him, just existing beside him.

It’s still not enough.

And it’s almost like he senses this thought as it runs through your head again, because he shifts until his head is on your shoulder, and then he sighs. You can tell he’s thinking about his words, and you’re thankful for that too. If he’s thinking before he speaks then you probably won’t take offense to whatever it is he has to say.

But he’s quickly getting frustrated and you know that means that he doesn’t know any other way to say what he’s thinking. No matter how hard he tries, he’s still gonna sound like an asshole.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, nudging him gently. “Just say it.”

He does. And you immediately wish he hadn’t.

“You should leave.”

You don’t know what to say. Even if you did, you’re not sure you could make your mouth move. You’re not shocked, it’s something you’d been considering yourself, but it still hurts.

You finally find your voice close to a minute later.

“Is that what you want?”

It’s hardly above a whisper, but he hears it.

“Of course that’s not what I fuckin’ want.” He shakes his head and you can feel his beard through the fabric of his shirt. “But you should.”

You don’t say anything at all this time, you don’t even move, and once Nathan knows he’s not going to get a thing out of you, he presses on.

You wish he wouldn’t.

“I’m an ass.” At least he admits it. “I haven’t made you happy in a long time.”

“It’s not even that.”

He’s quiet this time, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t pressure you into speaking before you’re ready. He’s being so patient and so un-Nathan like it’s almost a little jarring.

But God, you appreciate it. You appreciate being able to have an actual conversation with him for the first time in months.

“I’m happy when we make pancakes together and I’m happy when we go on hikes,” you say quietly, pushing down the lump in your throat, determined to get it out. “I’m happy when you get excited about a breakthrough and run to show me even though I don’t understand a thing about code. You do make me happy, Nate.”

He lifts his head but you can’t look at him, can’t see the little bit of hope you know is swimming in those brown eyes you love so much.

“But you also make me miserable.”

You can feel his shoulders slump, and no sooner than the words leave your mouth is he raising the bottle back to his lips. He finishes it off this time.

“And I know I’m making you miserable too.”

“You’re not-”

You hold up your hand, silently asking for him to let you continue. He does.

“Nathan I snap at you for no reason. You yell about things that I don’t have any control over. We’re both hurting each other and we’re miserable.”

He knows you’re right.

“But we still love each other.”

And you know he’s right. You’re always going to love Nathan, no matter how much you yell and scream and fight you’re going to love him until you take your last breath. But-

“That’s not enough,” you mumble, hating the way your chest feels like it’s going to cave in. “That stopped being enough a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

“Nathan-”

“No.” His hand darts out to grip your jaw gently between his fingers, forcing you to look at him finally. Those stupid brown eyes make your heart flutter in your chest. “We love each other. That should be enough.”

You shake your head in his grip. “We can still love each other but that doesn’t mean that we’re being good to each other. Doesn’t mean we’re good for each other. It doesn’t mean we have to like the ending but there has to be one.”

He just blinks at you, ‘cause again, he knows you’re right. He knows it.

And you know that he’s not going to fight you on it. You know Nathan will do anything, whatever you want him to. He always has.

He just needs to hear you say it.

You don’t want to say it.

But you do anyways.

“I should go.”

He wishes you didn’t say it.

He wishes you wouldn’t go.

But just like you predicted, he doesn’t fight you on it. For once, there’s no yelling. There’s no harsh words, no screaming, no throwing things.

There’s only getting up and going to the bedroom. There’s no sleeping, there’s only packing. There’s the offer of changing out of his shirt but he tells you to keep it, he wouldn’t be able to stand the smell of your perfume mixing with his cologne, but he also wouldn’t have the balls to wash it. There aren’t any words, but there’s nothing to say.

There’s a kiss. One last kiss that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

That’s not even it.

It makes your heart leave your chest completely. It drops onto the bedroom floor where it will sit and stay, forever belonging to Nathan.

He doesn’t even say goodbye.

But that’s okay, you think. You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want those to be the last words he ever says to you.

You’d much rather go with the memory of him trying, of him telling you that love should be enough cause at least then it feels like you’re the one giving up, not him.

You wish that loving each other could be enough.

Why can’t it just be enough?

[wrenhyperfixates]

Full Disclosure

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Thor has always been supportive of his brother’s love life, but Loki won’t tell him that he’s dating you. When Thor won’t stop setting him up on dates, Loki has to move past his fears and confess. Warnings: just a fluff-bomb A/N: Thank you for requesting, my lovely nonny! This is longer than a typical imagine might be because I had so much fun with it (in fact it’s really more of a oneshot, oops). If you wanted something a little shorter, I already had a similar incorrect quote in my drafts that I’ll be posting for you later in the week :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Sometimes it was hard to have a brother so dense. There were plenty of times during their youth when Loki would try to discuss lessons or ladies with Thor, but never seemed to make any sort of breakthrough. It was only when Loki started dating you that he was glad for it, as it made hiding the blooming relationship much easier. That is, until Thor kept trying to set him up on dates.

“I believe I might shove my brother off a cliff, darling,” Loki whined one afternoon, dramatically flopping on your bed.

“Aww. What did he do now?” you inquired after giving him a small peck on the lips.

“He arranged another date for me, and I was left with the arduous task of cancelling. It is a wonder how he has not noticed how absolutely smitten I am with you, my love.”

He nuzzled into your neck as you cuddled him, breathing in your comforting scent. You bent your head down to place a kiss on the adorable little crinkle between his brows. He relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still stressed.

“Well, we could always tell him about us,” you suggested as Loki’s frown reappeared. “I mean, almost everyone else on the team figured it out. So I don’t really see why we shouldn’t tell Thor.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. True, the other Avengers were aware of your relationship, save for Steve and Bucky, who were too oblivious to even realize their own feelings for each other. Still, it was different with Thor, his brother, his only family left. He knew how fond of you Thor was, but if he were to oppose to the two of you dating, he had no idea what he’d do.

“My brother can be overbearing. I am not certain that telling him is the best option at present.”

“Ok. If you’re sure that’s all, then we’ll wait.”

He whispered a thank you into your hair as you shifted positions so that now he was spooning you. The whole reason you’d decided to keep the fact you were dating a secret in the first place was to be able to enjoy quiet moments like this. Loki has been worried that his teammates would disapprove and try to split you up. Surprisingly, they were supportive, even if they did engage in some subtle teasing. Though, their knowledge of your relationship made what happened at dinner the next night all the more embarrassing.

You and Loki kept secretly holding hands under the table, earning you some smirks from your teammates who happened to notice. Feeling self-conscious, you broke apart but left your legs touching ever so slightly, just enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other. You must have laughed a little too loudly at something Loki said because, suddenly, Thor got what he thought to be a novel idea.

“You know,” he said, pointing at you and Loki, “I believe you two would make a really cute couple.” As if that weren’t bad enough, he continued in a stage whisper, “You should really ask them out, Loki.”

The God of Mischief turned bright red as you started fidgeting in your seat. Everyone else made eye contact with each other before giving in to a bout of laughter. Thor demanded to know what was so funny, but no one could get any words out. When Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his seat, Loki decided that he’d had enough.

“Brother,” he shouted over the din. “I-well, we have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he shouted back, still not catching on.

“Maybe we should do this somewhere quieter,” you suggested after a small sigh.

The three of you made your way out of the noisy dining room, and Loki started wringing his hands as both his lover and brother looked at him expectantly. This was his moment to finally get the truth out there. Unfortunately, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and lashed out with a dagger, striking Thor.

“Surprise attack!”

“Loki!” you bellowed, upset with your boyfriend.

“Do not worry, my friend. This is a normal occurrence,” Thor assured you as Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away.

Once behind closed doors, you fixed him with a withering glare. He knew that he was being ridiculous, especially now that Thor has shown he would be fine with you two dating. But Loki realized something else was stopping from sharing his joy with his brother. If he told Thor, it would be like bridging his old life and his new one. Granted, you already knew of his past misdeeds, but what if there was something else he hasn’t told you? Something long forgotten in his memory that Thor lets slip? In the end, his reluctance all boiled down to a fear of losing you.

“I know, I know. That was not the best route to choose. I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything,” he lied.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, Loki?” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re embarrassed of me or something. The least you could do is tell the truth about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” he cooed, wiping a plump drop that had fallen and made a glistening track halfway down your cheek. “Please understand that my inability to tell my brother of us has nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fear that you may come to resent me if you hear any more of my past.”

“Loki,” you said, voice heavy with emotion. “Look at me. I know that you’ve done some... questionable things before. But I know you now, and that’s what I care about. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but you work harder than anyone I know to make up for it. It’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

He looked at you with eyes full of gratitude before hugging you close. “I love you too, dearest. Never doubt that.”

The air relaxed around Loki and his beloved as a quiet contemplation settled in. He slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, trying to plan his next move. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was not knowing what to do next. But he was sure that, with you beside him, he could figure it out.

“Ok,” you said after sucking in a long breath. “We’ll wait then. As long as you need.”

“No,” Loki interjected, coming to a conclusion as you spoke. “I want to tell him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment. But tomorrow for certain.”

After checking that he was sure of this decision, you agreed to have lunch with Thor where you would tell him the news. Loki’s nerves were at an all-time high by noon the next day. He helped you set the table to try to calm them, but nothing seemed to cull his worries.  You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the tense spots between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” you reassured him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

He relaxed in your embrace for a second before you broke away upon hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps approaching. Loki tweaked the utensils once more, and you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles in a final act of comfort. It also helped some that Thor seemed to be in an even more jovial mood than usual. Which, of course, was saying something as the god was relentlessly optimistic.

Sitting down, he greeted you both by name and told you everything smelled delicious. The God of Thunder bit his lip to hold back a smile, but you and Loki could see it tugging its way onto his face. The two of you shared a look, attempting to figure out what exactly was the cause of such joy for the older Odinson boy.

“Um, Thor?” you said. “Is there something you wanted to share with us?”

“No. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Another look passed between you and Loki. Suddenly, Loki realized that his brother must know the news you were about to share. It figures that after all this time, he worked it out moments before he was about to come clean.

“You have figured it out,” Loki sighed, “haven’t you?”

Thor nodded eagerly and came around the table to hug his brother and friend, overjoyed that they were dating. He loosened his grip around you upon hearing your gasping voice telling him he was hugging too tight, a terrible habit of his.

“But when did you figure it out?” you questioned, puzzling over the timeline of events.

“I have known for months, of course.” He tried to stick to this story, but the skeptical looks from both you and his brother made him abandon his position. “I saw you two being all cuddly just before I came in,” he conceded with slumped shoulders.

All three of you began to laugh, and Loki was surprised by how relieved he felt at not having to actually confess. The rest of the lunch went swimmingly, and the God of Mischief relaxed further, happy to have both his brother and beloved in such high spirits. Unfortunately, his own sunk when Thor offered to tell a story about him. It seemed like his worst fears were about to come true.

“One time when we were children,” Thor began with a wistful look in his eye, “Loki tried to use some of his magic and accidentally turned himself into a cat. He came to my room and pestered me until I brought him to mother. Remember that, brother?”

“Indeed, I do,” Loki said with a nostalgic laugh, feeling relieved that was all Thor shared. “It was one of the first spells I ever tried. I am afraid that I sorely botched it. I was coughing hair balls for weeks.”

“So that’s why you won’t let me get a kitten!” you added with a laugh of your own.

The brothers went back and forth telling embarrassing stories about the other. You refused to share any of your awkward childhood moments, and your companions vowed to get some out of you one day. All in all, Loki had a great time. He squeezed your hand in thanks under the table. With shining eyes he observed you and Thor laughing. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to worry about. After all, he’d been wrong when he’d thought Thor was the only family he had left. Now you were his family, too. And nothing could possibly take away you or the love you shared.

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

Headcanons for Kyoto, Mahiru, Toko, and Kaede react to seeing an alien UFO, before it disappears

I think I'll take care of the Kyoko and Toko portions of the ask. Mod Nagito will take care of Mahiru. As for Kaede, due to ModKokichi feeling off we ultimately decided to just post this as is. I hope that isn’t a problem.

Kyoko:

Kyoko is a detective and a firm believer of facts and logic. She has never believed in UFOs, at least in the ‘flying-saucer-alien’ way.

Seeing one take off right in front of her is definitely shocking and certainly has her stop in her tracks for a moment.

However, Kyoko’s good at recomposing herself so that’s absolutely what she does and begins looking at what just happened from a rational, objective view.

She’ll likely immidieately investigate the area from where the UFO left. Is there any sort of physical evidence left behind? Anything she could use to try and make sense of what she just saw.

If anything is left behind, you can bet Kyoko is going to do everything in her power to get it analyzed, look into what it was made from, what it may have been made of, etc. Anything that can help her make sense of what she saw.

If there is no physical evidence left behind, she’ll likely try and find if anyone else saw what she did. If they did, she’d try and corraborate their stories, looking for any possible inconsistincies or new information.

In the end, Kyoko is going to be spending a long time on this, exhausting every option until she either gets answers or has to recognize that some things just can’t be solved. Regardless, she’ll likely be taking UFO stories far more seriously in the future.

Toko:

Toko maay be somewhat paranoid, but she was no conspiracy theorist. She probably thinks such people are stupid and/or insane.Basically, she didn’t believe in flying saucers or aliens.

Seeing one will absolutely cause her to freeze up from shock momentarily. 

She’s either going to end up fainting (and god help anyone nearby if she does) or freaking out.

Seriously, this girl is jumpy as hell, and paranoid as it is. A UFO in front of her is going to send her scurrying back home, locking the door to her room, and probably begin sharpening her scisors. Genocider in control or not.

I imagine Toko is going to start scouring websites of any kind to try and fiugre out what she just saw. She’s not going ti be thinking clearly, she wants answers but nothing makes any sense and she’s freaking out.

When she eventually calms down she’ll likely realize that for some reason she’s feeling inspired and start working on a new sci-fi story.

Mahiru never super believed in aliens. In her work with photography she learned about how to tell a real photo from a doctored one, down to the most obscure inconsistency in pixels or film grain.

Tonight though, she was thrown a curveball

She was out on a midnight stroll, getting some nighttime shots of buildings and lights. Suddenly she started to hear, and then feel, a very deep hum

Mahiru looked around until she saw what looked to be some kind of aircraft in the sky just… hovering

For a moment she tried to get ahold of herself, but the thing was so inexplicable that she could reason around it; it was a UFO, and it's possibly alien.

Or Kazuichi made a breakthrough vehicle.

Mahiru came to her senses and grabbed her camera in hopes of catching the UFO on camera, knowing that this time it has to be real

She raised her camera and flicked to the setting best for fast targets

If this thing was gonna zip away, she was determined to catch it anyway. Blur can fuck off.

Of course, as she got her finger poised to click, the craft disappeared into the night, taking the humming noise with it

She wasn't fast enough.

Because of that experience, Mahiru dedicated herself in secret to trying to capture UFOs on camera cleanly

And eventually, she managed to catch one.

[lucywritesreid]

With Heaven Above You - Part 2

Summary: In this chapter, Reid and Y/N are coming closer to uncovering who the unsub is.

Warnings: Just a bit of swearing!

Word Count: 2.6k (I was going to split this into two but ended up changing my mind!)

Notes: Thank you for the feedback on part one! I’m tagging @rexorangecouny  @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @liaabsurd @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @101donuts

The next 24 hours or so flew by. You and Spencer had spent hours crafting the profile and accumulating evidence passed on by the rest of their teams whilst they investigated the murders. Hotch had accepted your revised profile and a comment about it being ‘especially good work’ had lifted both your spirits more than you cared to admit. By the evening, there had been no reports of any new missing persons, so you took the time to deliver the profile to various police departments and blue collar workers in the local area. The more people knew what to look out for, you hoped the more vigilant and safe people would be.

There was something powerful about delivering the profile together. On a couple of occasions a few male officers had directed questions specifically to Dr Reid. Spencer had sharply referred them to you and he stood watching you proudly as you answered. Despite his greater intelligence and experience within the FBI, he never took you for granted. He wanted people to see just how smart you were. Had the circumstances been happier, you probably would’ve wanted to go out and celebrate your partnership, or at the very least have a romantic evening indoors. But this case was unrelenting.

There had been a minor breakthrough. Garcia had been given permission from the phone companies each of the victims used to have unlimited access to their phones. Their phones had been brought into the office and she’d found out that each victim received a photograph of themselves from an unknown number in the hours before their disappearance. She was trying to find the source of the number, but it gave you all some hope that should you be taken – the unsub would try and track you down and photograph you first.

By the time you returned to Quantico, it was late, but you needed to work on the press release with Rossi and JJ. Spencer excused himself to go look through some files, and you spent the next few hours working through questions and specific trigger words you were going to use in order to taunt the unsub. “I think you’ve got this kiddo,” Rossi brought you in for a warm hug, “you’re gonna go out there and really wind up the bastard.”

It got to a point when you felt like you couldn’t stand up any longer. Tears stung your eyes as the battle to fight off a yawn was lost. Glancing down at your watch you saw that it was almost midnight. “I’m gonna go find the Dr, I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You kissed both your colleagues on the cheek and grabbed your coat from your desk, anxious to get home and try and get some sleep before tomorrow.

It was no surprise how you found Spencer. He was sprawled out across a small office’s burgundy carpet, an array of open files and photographs positioned sporadically around him. You stood for a few seconds and watched him, always fascinated by his approach. He was feverishly reading through files, using his index finger to focus his eyes on the pages as he read through them all at lightning speed. Most people would believe that this workspace was chaotic and messy. But you could see Spencer’s organisation even from your viewpoint. He’d arranged the victims chronologically in his circle and had layered over police and ME reports in between each case file. He truly was brilliant. Had it have been a few hours earlier; you wouldn’t have interrupted. But you knew he needed to go home, probably more than you did. “C’mon Spence. Even someone as handsome as you needs their beauty sleep,” you commented, leaning against the door.

He didn’t look up but he knew you were there. “Five minutes, y/n?”

“M’kay squish,” a nickname you reserved for when there was nobody else around, “I’ll go warm the car up.”

Spencer was five minutes on the dot. He hurried into the passenger seat and clicked on his seatbelt, throwing his messenger bag on the backseat. You looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that the bag was overflowing and stuffed with files, no doubt all the ones he was staring at in the office. It took all your willpower not to mention it. You desperately wanted to tell him to forget it for tonight and have a relax, but that would be futile. Spencer was passionate about his job and that was one of the many reasons why you were in love with him. The radio played classical music all the way home, Spencer’s favourite radio station and certainly not yours. He made a couple of comments about various composers playing and facts about their lives. It made you relax to hear him talk about something that wasn’t the case.

When you arrived home, you were seeing spots from exhaustion. Too tired to cook anything, Spencer warmed up some leftover Chinese food whilst you jumped in the shower. You popped on an old episode of Doctor Who and sat in silence as you both ate. When the episode finished, you glanced across the sofa and saw Spencer with his head propped up by his hand and his empty bowl falling off his lap. As quietly as you could, you turned off the TV, reached out and took the bowl from his lap and set it down on the coffee table, hoping not to disturb him. But he was an awfully light sleeper and the slightest movement caused him to jolt awake. “Oh god sorry y/n I guess I fell asleep.” You scolded him for apologising, took his hand and walked into the bedroom. You were asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

The next morning was spent preparing for your press conference. You dressed quickly but made the effort to put on something slightly more revealing and spent the time straightening your usually messy up-in-a-bun hair. Spencer hovered in the doorway as you finished putting on your make up, hands in your pocket as he watched you. You sighed. “I think it’s the best way to try and bait this guy if I at least look worth kidnapping,” You watched him shudder behind you. “I know, y/n. And you look beautiful. I just don’t like the thought of him thinking that.”

On your way out, you made sure to grab the purple pendant necklace that Spencer had bought you on your birthday two years ago. You fumbled with it between your fingers as you sat in the car as your own little signal that you were going to be thinking about him all day.

The press conference went off without a hitch. Thanks to JJ, there was wide media coverage, with cameras and crew from all various TV and radio news outlets, as well as a few reporters who had vouched to have the story printed on their websites within the hour. If this guy had any sort of access to media, which your profile stated he did, he would most certainly be watching. “And just to reiterate, we’re looking for a man who is awkward with zero social skills. This man is impotent, unattractive and holds a menial job. He takes no pride in his appearance and we believe he is a complete loner. No family, no friends. You’ve probably overlooked this guy a thousand times. There is nothing, I repeat, nothing significant about him at all.” You stared right down into the camera as you delivered your last line. You knew that was the sucker punch. This guy was a total narcissist and completely fame hungry. You hoped that by saying he was a loner with no life he would be outraged enough to try and track you down. “We are also not answering to any nicknames. This man is too irrelevant to be given one. If you have any questions or believe you have seen this man, you can call our 24 hour tip line. You can ask for me personally. My name is Agent Y/N Y/L/N with the BAU. Thank you.”

As soon as you stepped down the phone lines started ringing. Local police and members of your team were all taking it in turns to answer the calls, writing down numbers, disregarding any hoaxes. Morgan cheered you up after ten minutes by claiming that someone was asking if you were free for dinner, but other than that there were no significant leads in the first few hours.

Spencer had asked Hotch if he could continue looking over the files and he had disappeared back into his quiet room. You considered going checking on him a few times, but then it was your turn to man the phones alongside Emily. An hour or so in, you turned to her and asked, “have you had anything worthwhile, Em? Do you think we’re gonna get this guy?”

“I think you did an excellent job before, y/n. I’m sure he’s seething. I was surprised though when he didn’t ring directly after the first few minutes.” You nodded back to her. That was the outcome that you had been hoping for, but it hadn’t materialised. “Say,” she then added, “what’s Reid so fixated on? Do you think he’s got any leads?”

“Honestly Em? I don’t have a clue.”

The day felt rather anti-climactic. You’d set yourself up, hoping for some sort of breakthrough, but as the evening wore on and the numbers of staff on site dwindled, you realised there wasn’t going to be any new developments tonight. Following the same routine from the day before, you found Spencer, and coaxed him out of his little investigation room so that he would come home. The rest of the evening was extremely ordinary. You went to bed together and fell asleep even quicker than the night before. If that was humanly possible.

When you awoke, it was early. A stream of light from the slightly open curtains had interrupted your sleep. “We really should’ve shut the curtains properly,” you yawned and stretched a hand out to where you expected your boyfriends warm chest to be. But his side of the bed was empty. You opened your eyes and turned to his side. It was perfectly made up and his pyjamas were folded nearly on top of the pillow. That was odd. You both were notoriously messy and known for not being particularly proactive in a morning. Perhaps he hadn’t slept. You wondered just how early he’d got out of bed.

When you finally managed to come around you checked your phone to see if he’d sent you anything. Aside from a few late night memes from Garcia, there was nothing. Still, Spencer had gone to work on his own plenty times before. He liked to let you sleep in when his insomnia was bothering him. He’d probably just used his metro card and wanted to make a start on the case. That gave you hope that maybe his incessant thinking had given him a eureka moment.

You rolled out of bed slowly and stretched to stand. It would’ve been nice to go back to sleep for a few hours, but you figured if Spencer was already at work it was likely the others were too. You threw on a plain black shirt and capri trousers and added one of Spencer’s fluffy cardigans to finish it off. You liked the way you could fit your thumbs through the holes in the sleeves, almost like he was holding your hand. As you walked into the kitchen you shot him a quick text ‘see you at work babe.’ You turned on the coffee machine and figured you’d use one of Spencer’s mugs rather than dirtying a new one. He always had a coffee before he left, no matter how much of a rush he was in. And he always left a mug on the counter. It was usually the one with penguins on you’d got him at the Christmas market.

But there was no mug there. That stumped you for a second or two. He always had his coffee before he left, no exceptions. Then again, this case was doing crazy things to all of you. Surely it wasn’t unusual for one day? You poured two coffees into metal flasks to take with you and made your way to the front door. You reached up to grab your key from the right hook but it was empty. Huh. That was weird too. You quickly scanned your eyes and saw your key was on the left. But your key was always on the right and Spencer’s on the left. Had he picked yours up by mistake and swapped them over before leaving? That didn’t really make sense.

You had to shrug this off. It was getting silly, this overthinking. Save your energy for the case you said to yourself. Just as you were about to unlock the door, you looked down at your ‘enter the upside down’ door mat. Normally it sat perfectly on a right angle to the edge of the door. But it was almost completely twisted to the left. How had that happened? Why was Spencer in such a rush that he forgot his coffee, almost took the wrong key and messed up the doormat?

The ride to work seemed long. You were anxious to see Spencer and have the butterflies in your stomach go away. Guilt set in as you realised you were the last one to arrive, even though it was only just after 8am. You went straight for JJ who was stood by your desk. “Morning JJ,” you mustered a smile.

She returned the smile but looked around you, “Did Spence not come in with you this morning?” You shook your head. Shit. Did that mean he wasn’t here yet? By the time you had got ready and drove here the metro would’ve brought him in by now. “Um no, I thought he was already here…” The panic started settling in again and you frantically looked around the bullpen. “Where is he?”

You excused yourself from JJ but she followed, obviously sensing how tense you were. You tried the meeting room, Garcia’s den, the little cubby room he’d been working with, even Hotch’s office. When you asked Derek if he’d go into the bathroom to look for him, he said, “Listen baby girl, if you want to get your kicks off with Reid in working hours, I’d suggest somewhere more romantic than the men’s bathroom…”

JJ gave him a look, “We can’t find Spencer actually, Derek. But I’m sure he’s just on his way, y/n. I wouldn’t worry about it. Have you heard from him yet?” She reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away. This wasn’t right. His oddly made up bed. The coffee cup. The keys. The doormat. It was all pointing to something, but you just didn’t know what.

Without hesitation you ran into Garcia’s room and startled her. “Penelope,” you said trying to choke back tears, “I-I need you to trace Spencer’s phone for me.”

She didn’t question you just from the look on her face. Instead she nodded and set to work. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was becoming shallower by the second. A sharp pain crept up into your chest and you balled your hand into a tight fist. He’s okay. He’s probably just gone somewhere to think. Or he’s late. That happens.

Your train of thought was quickly interrupted by Garcia. She spun round on her chair and the same worried look you had was staring back at you. “Y/n, h-his phone’s either switched off or died. I-I can’t locate him. I don’t know where he is.”

End of part 2

[makaylajadewrites]

Muted Blue Chapter 1

Here is the first chapter for Muted Blue. It is already up on AO3 here in its entirety, but I will also be posting the chapters here

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Summary: Homo ave sapiens was the term, wise man birds, a species on the cusp of endangerment due to trafficking on the black market. Meeting one wasn’t all that uncommon, and in truth, the only difference between humans and home ave sapiens (or avians, as they often preferred), were the feathered appendages growing from their backs.

“Hey there… I’m going to get you out of here,” Morgan said in a hushed voice, crouching down in front of the figure. Those elegant wings lowered to reveal a mop of chestnut curls and a pale face, and Morgan swore he never saw anything more beautiful. Hazel eyes peered up at him fearfully, glowing in the darkness, and had he not known any better, he would think he were in the presence of an angel.

Tws: Human trafficking, mentions of slavery/sex slavery. Nothing graphic

Word count: 9010

--

"Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

-Emily Dickinson

~

The elevator doors dinged upon the arrival to his destined floor, and with a certain heaviness in his step only sleepiness could cause, Derek Morgan stepped off and headed to the roundtable room. To be called in at such an hour could only mean one thing: Something important was going on and needed their immediate attention. He only wondered why this couldn’t have waited until a more reasonable hour, but clearly, criminals didn’t care about his sleep schedule. The bullpen was completely empty, and it was still dim from the night, but even through the blinds, he could see that the lights were on in the roundtable room. Begrudgingly, he entered, and saw that everyone was already inside and settled, all except Hotch and JJ who had yet to emerge from his office where they were most likely discussing the case at hand. This had to be a bad one.

“Alright everyone, please take a seat,” Hotch said just as Morgan was sitting himself down between Prentiss and Garcia, both of whom held a grim expression on their faces - Garcia’s of course more noticeable than the ever compartmentalizing Emily Prentiss. JJ obviously wasn’t going to be presenting this case, because as soon as she passed out the case files, she was sitting next to Rossi who was already examining the files with extreme interest yet with surprise, almost disbelief lingering on his wrinkled face. Morgan instantly understood why.

“Tonight, we were notified that Andi Swann’s unit has located a branch of a… human trafficking ring operating just outside of Las Vegas,” Hotch began, putting emphasis on the word ‘human’ for unknown reasons. With a click of the remote, the monitor turned on to reveal a few of the rescued victims, and immediately the team noticed that they were not human as Hotch had previously stated. Homo ave sapiens was the term, wise man birds, a human-related species on the cusp of endangerment due to trafficking on the black market. Meeting one wasn’t all that uncommon, and in truth, the only difference between humans and home ave sapiens (or avians, as they often preferred), were the feathered appendages growing from their backs. They behaved just as humans behaved, talked like them, lived like them… Yet they were discriminated against and faced many complications, residing alongside humanity.

They demanded for equal riots, and Morgan vividly remembered the Avian Riots of 1999, when he was still a novice in the FBI. Avians marched and protested across D.C., and after several isolated incidents of looting and pillaging, the national guard fired into crowds as if it were open season. In total, over eighty avians were killed that day, and from then on, the government took special interest in protecting avian rights. But it was clear that they weren’t doing enough, with incidents like this and the continued maltreatment of avians and discrimination against them.

“Oh, my god…” Garcia breathed, her eyes impossibly wide as her hand shot out to find stability on Morgan’s forearm, and he too was as surprised as she was. The rescued victims were severely malnourished, practically just skin and bones, and their wings were very crudely clipped and mangled from years of neglect and obvious abuse. Unlike humans, however, feathers danced across their chests and along their shoulders and backs, the plumage sprinkling downwards to the sprout of their wings. The only male had feathers freckling his cheeks. It was clear they once had been so beautiful, but now, these poor creatures were far from pleasant to look at. Despite himself, Morgan felt a discomfort building in his stomach, his throat clenching. It would forever baffle him to know that people thought it was alright to treat any creature like this.

“From left to right, we have Liam Donaldson, twenty-three, Jamie Frost, twenty-four, and Renee Grayson, also twenty-four,” JJ jumped in, “All have been claimed by their families and we’ve been asked for help in interviewing the victims and their families.”

“Agent Swann has reason to believe that this group is still holding more avians, though exact numbers are unknown. They bounce back and forth between several major locations, and we have been asked to assist in the raids at all three locations,” Hotch continued, clicking onto the next screen where surveillance pictures showed hooded figures congregating outside of a large van, and it was clear that these were their suspects. A mugshot of a man popped up on the screen next.

“This is Jonathon Martin, and he is in charge of this specific operation. We have yet to identify anyone else affiliated with this branch. Garcia, I want you with us for this, so grab a go-bag. Wheels up in twenty.” With that, the team rose from where they sat and dispersed to get ready for travel. Garcia looked worriedly to Morgan, and all he could do was offer a small smile in her direction, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“Promise me we’ll get them out of there, Derek,” Garcia said in an oddly somber tone. Morgan just sighed and squeezed her shoulder as they followed suit, walking out of the room.

“We’ll get ‘em, baby. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” Although, he only hoped that he could fulfill that promise, for the sake of Garcia and those innocent people.

Upon arriving in Las Vegas five hours later, they were greeted by the one and only Andi Swann, and despite the circumstances she kept a small smile on her face, remembering each and every member of Aaron’s team from previous encounters. She met them at the airstrip, shaking their hands and clearly pleased to have the best team possible helping with such a key operation — a breakthrough in one of their largest avian trafficking rings.

“Once we get to the precinct, we can use the information we have gathered so far to plan our infiltration,” Swann said as they piled into the SUVs made available for them, and soon, they were on their way. The precinct was just as any other; alpha males all around, a conference room made available with three boards filled with information, including that which pertained to their suspected leader and the few victims that had been saved. A map was pinned up on one, with three separate locations circled, all within a twenty mile radius of one another. In one of the interview rooms, a pretty robin was perched in a chair, her legs bouncing nervously while she looked around constantly, clearly paranoid. Avians were often distrusting of authority figures after the riots, and it was clear that this one was no different.

“We’ve brought in Macy Donaldson, Liam Donaldson’s sister. Apparently, she hasn’t seen her brother in over two years, and we wanted your help in preparing her to see him again,” Swann continued on, and Hotch nodded, glancing in Prentiss's direction who instantly nodded and separated from the group to talk to the robin. Morgan crossed his arms over his chest, approaching one of the boards and looking over pictures of the victims, their before and after pictures a true vision of despair. They all had been incredibly beautiful before their disappearances, and now that they were found, they looked like they had been treated as livestock. He had met avians over his lifetime, never really anything more than a brief interaction here or there because of his work as a police officer and eventually an agent.

“We’ve been tracking their movements for the past three months. We want to infiltrate tonight, before they change locations again,” Swann informed, and Hotch seemed a bit taken aback by this revelation. But, if it was possible to save these poor people before they were sold off, then they had no choice but to intervene. Morgan let his eyes linger over another victim, Victoria Pruest, and he felt his heart break at the sight of her mangled wings. How terrible it was, to be given wings yet have the glory of flying stripped away.

“Then we infiltrate tonight,” Morgan said quietly, turning to look at Swann and Hotch with a sharpened look in his dark eyes, “to keep these people from suffering any longer.”

~

The night came sooner than expected. Outside of a seemingly abandoned factory, the team grouped with SWAT, instructing them of their tactics and strategy. A soft entry was best, since they didn’t want to risk the lives of any avians or have them caught in the crossfire. They were already weakened as it was, so most of them probably wouldn’t survive any harm that came their way. With Morgan taking point, SWAT and the rest of the BAU followed behind and split into three different groups to cover the dark facility. Flashlight beams flickered across the walls, and soon, gunfire was exchanged between them and the workers of the trafficking ring. The ringleader was nowhere to be found, and they soon realized that he must have evaded as soon as he heard the gunfire. They continued to comb the facility for the remaining avians, despite the fact that he had gotten away, because lives still needed to be saved.

“Guys, in here!” Prentiss called for them, and immediately they followed her into a cramped corridor, a total of four cells with bars from floor to ceiling on either side. A chorus of gasps greeted their entry, avian eyes shining through the darkness as wings fluttered and hands grasped at cold bars. After all, it was the middle of January, and most of these poor people had less than scraps on their bodies if not completely naked. A key from the office-like room was passed into them and the cell doors were opened up. Three of the four cells had two or three avians inside, and JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi handled those. But the cell that Morgan was left with only had one individual inside. The avian was balled up in the corner with mangled, owlish wings curling around themselves protectively. The sound of their rapid breathing was somewhat concerning, yet also relieving since it reminded Morgan that they were thankfully alive.

As Morgan slowly approached, he was careful to take light steps, but his approach was enough to elicit a gasp from the avian. He stopped in his place, lowering himself down to a crouch so as to avoid intimidating the abused creature, and he slid his gun back to its rightful place in the holster on his hip.

“Hey there… I’m going to get you out of here,” Morgan said in a hushed voice, wanting to reach forward and touch the avian but he resisted since that could come with dire consequences. Those elegant wings lowered at the sound of his voice to reveal a mop of chestnut curls and a thin, pale face, and Morgan swore he never saw anything more beautiful. Hazel eyes peered up at him fearfully, glowing in the darkness, and had he not known any better, he would think he were in the presence of an angel. Pale feathers sprouted across his cheeks up into his hairline, and along his bare chest and over his shoulders, down to the curve of his neglected wings.

“That’s it, Pretty Boy… I’m here to help,” Derek continued on as those wings slowly lowered further, and as soon as he realized that the boy was naked, he pulled off his FBI jacket and draped it over the boy’s front. The avian instantly clutched to it with shaking hands, his slender fingers burying themselves in the warm fabric.

“I can go home?…” the boy whispered his question, his eyes watering like fountains as tears fell down his face. His hands trembled horribly, lips parting as he searched for more to say, and as much as Derek wanted to just hold him in his arms and never let him go, he resisted the urge to touch him still and continued on as if he were any other victim. But despite himself, Morgan knew this boy was different, and the way his heart throbbed in his chest was a reminder of that fact.

“My name is Derek, and I’m with the FBI,” Morgan gently said to him, “What’s your name?”

“M-My name?… Sp-Spencer. Spencer Reid,” the avian said in response, sitting up slowly on his knees. Morgan realized this boy probably hadn’t been called by his name in years, and again, his chest seemed to tighten up.

“Can you stand on your own, Spencer?”

“I-I don’t… I don’t know. I can try,” Spencer mumbled weakly, and while one hand kept the jacket clutched to his body, he slowly rose to wobbly knees. He only lasted a few seconds, and as he began to crumble, Derek gathered him in his arms. Hoisting him up carefully against his chest, one arm under his long legs while the other held him up under his upper torso, just below his wings. Spencer looked up at him with such wonder in his eyes, the tear tracks still evident on his dirtied face. Even covered in dirt and grime, he still looked like the image of perfection, an angel fit only for the prettiest of skies.

Morgan needed to get his head out of the clouds and focus.

He carried him out of that wretched cell, and swore to himself that he would never let Spencer wind up like that again. The boy seemed breathless from the sudden movements, and an expression of such trust lingered on his face. One hand remained over the FBI jacket, and the other clutched to the front of Derek’s long sleeve shirt. As he was brought out of the facility and into the open air, a soft whimper passed the boy’s cracked lips.

Derek looked down, alarmed and worried he had inadvertently hurt him, but the moment he saw tears trekking down his feathered cheeks once more, he realized why. Spencer’s eyes were caught on the starry night sky above, the moon reflecting in his dark pupils. It had probably been years since the boy saw the living world, and he was filled with such an immense amount of grief for the life Spencer had lost. He had experienced such a tragedy, and although he didn’t know for sure how long Spencer had been enmeshed in the trafficking ring, he knew that he would never be the same person he was before all of this. But then again could anybody, regardless of species?

EMTs began to gather the avians by having them lay on gurneys and pushed into the backs of ambulances, and Derek looked down as Spencer became more aware of the situation. Spencer looked scared, and his eyes fell from the sky to instead focus on the couple of people approaching them with a gurney rolling along between them.

“Derek?...” He whispered in confusion as he was laid down on it, his hands continuing to clutch to that jacket, his knuckles white from his death grip. His breathing was erratic again, and Derek felt himself crumble just a little bit on the inside. Spencer had already imprinted himself onto Morgan and viewed him as a savior — how good of a person would he be to leave the avian all alone as he had been before?

“These people are going to bring you to a hospital where they can help you, Spencer,” Derek said as if that would make him feel better, but Spencer was clearly having none of that. He was abused, not stupid, and Derek needed to remember that in the future. Spencer desperately shook his head, while a flutter of protests erupted from him in the form of sobs as the EMTs began to roll the gurney back towards an ambulance An EMT attempted to slip a blood pressure cuff around his arm on the way, but Spencer shrieked as if in pain and jerked away violently. His wings fluttered, the sheets ruffling up under him, and it pained Morgan to see this poor creature acting on pure instinct alone, as if his wings could really carry him in their decrepit state.

“No, Derek, please don’t leave me…!” He cried out in a shrill voice that pierced through Morgan’s very being, reaching a hand out towards the other man. Derek was by his side in an instant, his hands grasping onto Spencer’s smaller, bonier one. The EMTs stopped just outside of the ambulance, hoping that Morgan could get the poor boy to calm down.

“Calm down, Pretty Boy, I’ll be right here, okay?” He cooed softly, and Spencer whimpered once more, a coo of his own humming in his throat. Avians weren’t necessarily animalistic in nature, but like humans, they had noises they used to soothe themselves or each other. Like whispering or humming, avians had chirping, singing, cooing. It was all instinctual, really. An avian mother would coo to her baby, or avians would greet each other with happy chirps in the mornings, just as humans would do. Derek only wished he could understand more of how Spencer was feeling, to help him get through this smoothly.

“Don’t leave me,” Spencer repeated firmly, and Derek hated how tears seemed to be a constant presence on his face. He reached a hand up, his thumb gently swiping under his eye, being careful of the feathers tracing over his high cheekbones.

“I won’t,” Morgan said instantly. He rode in the back of the ambulance due to Spencer’s insistence, but when the EMTs began to administer tests and take his vitals, Spencer was clearly uncomfortable. However, it wasn’t until they attempted to draw blood that Spencer began to freak out and panic. His limbs flailed and his wings flapped wildly, his hand even striking an EMT across the face. When it was apparent that not even Derek was going to calm him down from this, they sedated him, and soon enough, he was fast asleep. Derek looked at the creature with such pity, his chest tight. He didn’t know who Spencer had been before this, but he could only hope that he could grow past this horrific experience.

At the hospital, Derek eventually met up with the rest of his team where they gathered in the waiting room. All of the rescued avians were eventually identified, either of their own doing or through Garcia’s research. Loved ones were contacted and several were quick to arrive while others had to travel to get there. But when he realized that Spencer had no one capable of seeing him, Morgan soon returned to Spencer’s room, wanting to be there when the young man woke up so that he wasn’t alone anymore. He felt such a desire to keep the other safe from danger, to protect him from all harm with ever fiber of his being.

“Tell me about Spencer, Mama,” Morgan said into the phone from where he sat next to Spencer’s hospital bed, his foot tapping on the ground as he leaned forward over his legs, his elbows perched on his knees. Garcia hummed idly to let him know she heard him, and after a bit of rapid typing, she responded.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, a twenty-one year old barn owl avian and Las Vegas native. He was reported missing by his coworkers at Caltech where he worked as a teacher’s assistant… Wow, he is one smart cookie. He has PhDs in math, chemistry, and engineering as well as BAs in psychology and sociology, all obtained before he turned twenty. He was working on his BA in philosophy before he disappeared. Oh my… He applied to the academy, as in the FBI academy, and was given special permission to join the bureau before he turned twenty-two,” she supplied, and Morgan looked upon Spencer in a new light. This beautiful creature was a genius if ever one existed, and he wanted to be an agent. With his intelligence, that certainly wouldn’t be difficult, although he wondered how he planned on passing the physical aspects of training. Perhaps he would be passed for that as well, simply because he had so much to offer. He caught sight of a lone feather on the ground, probably fallen from Spencer’s resistance towards the staff. With tentative fingers, he picked it up.

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” Morgan repeated quietly, thoughtfully, holding the plume by the stem and letting his eyes take in the sheer beauty of just one of Spencer’s feathers. It was like touching a piece of an angel, and when his eyes rose to see Spencer once more, he realized that could be the only explanation.

Oh, how he longed to see that angel fly again.

~

Chapter 2->

[brandjchilds]

2020 👉🏾 2021

I spent the last two weeks doing some introspection and writing about my 2020 experience (I paid Justin Timberlake to say that.)

From the jump, I felt like the 2020 tagline “a year of clarity” was so corny, but I bet you’re a little more clear on some important things after this year. I had no choice but to be.

Loss figured out how to affect everyone this year, in abstract ways, and in very visceral, tangible, sobering ways.

Pain was available to all who were alive long enough to experience more than a month of 2020.

Most of us would say 2020 gave us that work.

Let’s not get it twisted though, 2019 wasn’t nothing to write home about, but this year made me feel like I wish I could go back to sleep to finish that dream.

The very nature of having to stay home, being stripped of so many distractions that created false senses of comfort and security showed me that there’s a lot of character that has been built up in me, and that there’s still a lot of building to do.

I was more in my head this year than any other year that I can remember. Which coincided pretty spectacularly with the uptick in my dating activity this year. Somehow, I was both more bold, and more in my own head.

I talked to some girls AND got dates with some girls that a previous version of me would’ve thought I had no business being looked at by. Truly intimidatingly attractive, extraordinarily brilliant and kindhearted women that pre-2020 me wouldn’t have even headfaked at (yeah, I’m patting myself on the back for that).

Something I noticed about one of the lovely young women that I talked to early this year is that she had this sense that she had grown to the place where she was putting the majority of the weight of her trust in God and leaving it there. Trusting the provider and not the provisions. And that seemed to cause this overwhelmingly serene self security to radiate out of her. I’m still figuring that out, for sure.

This was also another year where I struggled with hiding many of the most passionate parts of myself in public spaces, in an effort to move closer to appropriate transparency and away from codependent vulnerability. In some ways, I think this worked well to keep myself from getting hurt as much, along with creating healthier connections with people (the goal), but there’s still some attenuation to be done, because in some instances, I definitely over corrected and felt myself becoming less interesting, and less available for any kind of connection at all.

In my closest relationships, I felt myself leveling up my inquisitive nature, showing my love in bigger ways to the people I’ve stated my love for, and intentionally finding more ways to show up for my people.

In addition, I’ve had more “in-game” experience with the difference between hurt versus harm as it relates to boundaries and communication in relationships. Learning to love myself well by taking up space in that way.

I learned that I can actually tolerate conflict that feels even remotely productive.

Oh! Also, I’ve discovered something pretty major about myself: The greatest gift someone could give me is an environment of peace, joy and conversational fluidity. That’s all I want ever in all of life.

I was met with more of the realities of “both-and”, as opposed to objective extremism one way or another.

The relativity of words and time became that much more apparent to me. I was telling my sister that there were so many dope things I experienced in January and February of 2020 that somehow felt closer to the present than, say, George Floyd, or my first official relationship, Tiger King or my therapy breakthroughs. Speaking of...

Some breakthroughs in therapy and meditation have allowed me to put more space between external stimuli and the choice of my response. (And the role of distraction in this whole continuum, which is the enemy of mindfulness - part of why I’m taking this social media break.)

Closely related to the above thought, I heard this quote that said something like, “if you think of every thought as a package, the packages might come to your door, but if the package isn’t for you, don’t sign for it!” I’ve also chosen to apply this to thoughts that illicit even the strongest emotional responses. Very subversive, I know.

This time last year, I was with my family in Atlanta, talking about the things I wanted to achieve, character wise, in 2020, and now looking back at that list, I realize I can’t really check anything off. But I also realize that that was never the point. My sights were set on the wrong thing. The point of the journey is to keep becoming. Pay attention to how what you’re doing now is facilitating or detracting from what you hope to be. And then, if you find you’re on track, make peace with the process. This is one of many spiritual practices I want to reconnect with in 2021.

In addition to that, I’ve dropped the expectation for anyone, including myself, to fully be anything, really. However, I do need the people in my closest circle/prime seats of influence to be at least growing in their awareness as active participants in who they’re becoming. How they might be able to continue functionally evolving. Consistently considering what the desired outcome of their life might be.

Something else that learnt me: It is possible to apologize too much, and it is probable that I have lol. The reason, so I have discovered, is that it can cause you to behave apologetically for who you are, which has been quite the lifelong problem for your boy 😁.

By the way, I still have doubts in my faith (I guess that’s inherent in the word “faith”, right?), but they’re not (currently) overwhelming questions about God’s goodness or about why so many religious people have been allowed to make it their business to commandeer and distort the foundational ethic of love. Admittedly, the questions I have are much simpler, but I believe they’re valid, and worth inquisition.

I found a way to finish 3 pilots this past year, despite going through the biggest heartbreak of my life, seismic family turmoil and the existential stress of this pandemic. Idk how “good” those scripts are, but that’s really not the point. Shooters shoot and writers write.

I was recently reminded that, while living a creative life comes inherently with a level of fear, I don’t have to allow that fear to ever be the reason I don’t do or try things.

I pushed through my ADD, and reclaimed the discipline of sitting down and reading physical books.

I also listened to a bunch of audiobooks and even more podcasts. Favorite genres are pop-psychology/human behavior, dating, and of course, basketball.

I got help from some friends moving into a newly renovated, beautiful house in Glendale. No lie, I was a little shook to be in Simi Valley after Trump lost, and thankfully, we ended up moving like a week before the results came in (the first time).

I’ve been blessed to be bolstered by a new accountability group of Black men that are always available for support, and fully bought in on my progression in life, sometimes even more than I am.

I also witnessed just how truly down for me my circle of people are, on the heels of... some really tough stuff. So many people made it a point to show up for me, at the drop of a hat, with calls of encouragement, texts to reinstill confidence in me, and COVID-safe hangs to just physically be present with me through it all. I got some top shelf individuals in my life...

And at the end of a year like this, the most sobering things that have made their way back to front and center for me have been: how much relationships matter and the true brevity of life. Having faced that brevity fairly closely due to COVID’s effects on loved ones, and personally, with my own past health scare, I’m re-upping on the conscious decision to be an illuminative presence in my relationships. To be better about being consistently involved in my people’s lives, which as an introvert can sometimes cost me the very last morsels of my energy. To be more curious and open hearted when relating to people who think and believe differently than me. To continue to build myself up so that I can become someone who both healthily processes emotions and difficulty while safeguarding against rumination and wallowing, so I can be more emotionally available for the people in my life (my fellow Enneagram 4s know all about that struggle). Life’s much too brief for me to be any other way.

Anywho, there are some big things on the horizon, known and unknown, and I need space to be ready. So, social media homies, I’ll see you in 45 days (or, you know, hit me up if you want to see me before then).

#HappyNewYear

[cecilspeaks]

153 - The Heist, part 1

Constellations are fan art depicting ancient gods.   Welcome to Night Vale.

I’ve said many times that science is neat. But sometimes it is also messy. Carlos converted one of our guest rooms into a laboratory so he can spend more time at home and get some needed renovations done on his laboratory downtown. Which seemed like a great idea, until I realized that it’s impossible to contain chemical odors and stains from getting all over the rest of the house. Not only did acid eat through our new Egyptian-tiled backsplash, but also a petri dish grew feet and walked outside, only to walk back inside tracking mud all over my new handwoven Svitzian rug. The last straw was when Carlos stained all of his shirt sleeves, not to mention his hands and, somehow, even the (cords) countertops a dull green, which completely threw off my kitchen color palette. I told Carlos he had to stop, but he insisted he had made a major breakthrough in his doorless fridge invention. “Cecil, this is so exciting,” he said, bouncing up and down like a child who wants a toy or needs to pee. “The problem with refrigerators is the door. In order to put food in or take food out, you have to open the door, and that’s totally  bad because it lets all the cool air out, raising the temperature of the other food inside. I told him that’s not that big of a problem, but his face darkened and he said, “Baking is an exact science, Cecil. If the butter is off my a couple of degrees, my croissants are ruined.”

I understood, but I asked that he find another place to conduct that particular experiment. He’s turning everything in our home a dull green, including his own skin. Fortunately, my sister Abby and her husband Steve Carlsberg just bought a new house. Ever since his promotion to vice president of the Last Bank of Night Vale, Steve has been saving up to buy a larger home for his family, one with a yard for dogs, no stairs and wider doors for his daughter Janice’s wheelchair, and even his own man cave, where he can raise bats and cultivate rare crystals. And they finally closed on their dream home this summer. They bought Janice a car too, complete with accessible hand controls, a state of the art sound system, and a moon roof that closes automatically at night so you never have to see that awful moon. Anyway, there is also a giant empty storage shed out back of their new home, and Steve and Abby told Carlos he can work in the shed until his laboratory downtown is ready to use again. So far, it sounds like everything is working out fine for Carlos, although he did accidentally leave a large green handprint on Janice’s new car. The good news is, she thought it looked really cool, so she decided to leave it.

Listeners, I’m getting word that there’s a robbery taking place in downtown Night Vale. Three people have entered the Last Bank of Night Vale and are demanding money from the tellers. The robbers are wearing masks of former US presidents Richard Nixon, William Henry Harrison, and Emma Goldman. The Sheriff’s Secret Police, as well as the Sheriff’s Overt Police, are on the scene but the perpetrators have begun to take hostages and the police are trying to negotiate. The robbers have not stated any demands yet, so the police are left to guess what they want. One officer suggested giving them a million dollars, which was (-) [0:05:52] accepted by the fellow officers as a great idea. Because, while human lives cannot be distilled down to a monetary value, a million dollars is pretty cool. But this idea was shot down by Sheriff Sam, who pointed out that the department does not have a million dollars. “What if we got them a puppy?” another officer offered up. “My basset just had a litter and I thought we’d be able to sell them, but it’s definitely a buyer’s market out there for hounds,” the officer continued. “Anyway I’ve got a brown one with white spots and two white ones with brown stops. I’ve named the Chutney, Footstool and Bob Ross. Footstool is the runt, let’s give them Footstool.” “We’re not giving them puppies,” Sheriff Sam shouted. “Oo, what about an Applebee’s gift card?” another officer said. “Worth a million dollars.” “Or a coupon book for free favors,” another said, “like repainting the guest room or raking leaves or – oh, wait, we’re the police right? A free crime day! They, they could use that coupon today, and we don’t have to arrest them and file all the paperwork, and the hostages get to go free. We could even have a coupon for a 15 minute backrub.”

All of the officers clapped for this idea, not just a win-win but a win-win-win, for the hostages, the robbers and the police. All except Sheriff Sam, who silenced them all with a loud whistle. More like a pan flute, really. It’s an enchanted whistle that causes vocal cords to stop working. “We are police,” the Sheriff scolded. “It is clearly stated in our oath of office to never give backrubs to bank robbers.” They then set to work trying to devise a plan to stop the robbery and free the hostages in the bank. Oh dear. Uh, listeners, I was just talking about my brother-in-law Steve, and here comes this terrible news. Um, I have no further information about Steve’s condition right now, nor the other citizens who are being held at gunpoint inside the bank. I will update you as events progress.

In the meantime, let’s go to sports. The Night Vale high school Scorpions opened their season this Friday against the Whispering Forest Wood Dogs. Scorpion’s head coach Latrice Beaumont said this will be a tough match up. The Wood Dogs, a team entirely comprised of trees, are roundly regarded as one of the toughest defenses in the state, with their tactic of whispering compliments to opposing players, until those players themselves turn into trees. Last season, Whispering Forest dealt to Night Vale its only loss, as nine of the Scorpions starting offensive players, including quarterback Junius Duncan, were won over by the Wood Dogs’ pleasant cooing. By the end of the game, the field was covered in trees, many of them former Night Vale high school student athletes. And Whispering Forest snuck out with a 3-to nothing win on the late field goal, that was somehow kicked by a tree. Coach Beaumont says she plans to give her players ear plugs to help dampen the whispers from the Wood Dogs’ defense. She also has uglied up the Scorpions’ uniforms adding mustard yellow and hot pink argyle atop the dark purple jerseys, hoping that the arborial defenders will find little good to say. The Scorpions are starting a new quarterback this season, sophomore (phenome) [0:09:20] Julie Dobbs, who won the job because of her prophetic dreams. Her slumbering subconscious is able to see the future, most notably other teams’ defensive strategies. She also uses her dream journals to develop a nearly unstoppable offensive game plan. She also owns her own football, which was a huge plus for the coaches. Good luck this weekend, Scorpions! We’re pulling for you.

I now have the names of the hostages being hold at the Last Bank of Night Vale. Jesse McNeil, a security guard who has worked at the bank for nearly 50 years, oh Jesse. What a sweet old man. He says hi to me every time I go there, always has a smile and a compliment. Why, just the other day he said to me, “Heard you on the radio, Cecil, and I was beaming with pride.” Another hostage, bank teller Genevieve Daly, who started at the bank this week. Oh Genevieve, what a tough break. Just now that we’re pulling for you. Bank customer and dinosaur expert Joel Isenberg. Oh Joel, I know Joel! He’s such a smart guy. And the last of the hostages: staff supervisor of the bank, Susan Willman. OK well, tough.

Unfortunately, after several grueling minutes, negotiations between the sheriff and the robbers have broken down. So the police have decided that the only way to break the stalemate is with physical force. While this makes sense in chess, I don’t know if this is such a good idea for hostage negotiations, listeners. But the police have advanced into the building to engage the thieves directly.

Witnesses reported hearing several gunshots, but they said the noises could also be fireworks, part of the day long celebration of Lee Marvin’s 31st birthday, which was back in June. Oh. Happy late birthday, Mr. Marvin. You don’t look a day over 30.

We cannot see inside the bank and no one has emerged yet. I will have to report back later as soon as I have – oh no wait, wait. I’ve been told that the bank is on fire now. The west wall of the bank is engulfed in flames and the Night Vale fire department is already on the scene. They are shouting at the fire to stop being such a nuisance, but the fire does not appear to be listening.

Oh, this isn’t good. And even more frightening for me, I did not see Steve Carlsber’s name on the list of hostages. Abby told me he was at work today, but why was he not taken hostage? I can only hope he had gone to lunch when the robbery began. Steve, if you hear this and you’re at lunch, don’t go back to work, it’s on fire. I feel so powerless. All I can do is hope And bring you the weather.

[My Friend” by Dominique Chantel Worthing with Barrett Ward, https://soundcloud.com/dominique-worthing ]

First, the good news. The hostages have been freed. Inside the bank, the police drew their weapons on the robbers, but could not get off a clean shot because of the hostages blocking their line of fire. The robbers fired back, forcing the police to retreat behind a Coinstar machine and a full sized promotional cardboard cutout featuring a hooded man, his jagged smile just barely visible in shadow, holding a raw slab of red meat with the bold tex below him reading: “Great mortgage rates are inside of you”. But the second wave of officers blocked the thieves’ escape from the front entrance. Then, and Sheriff Sam did not see how this happened, but a fire began in the bank lobby. It spread quickly and the room filled with smoke. In the confusion, the hostages broke free from their captors and the robbers ran from the police. Fire engines sprayed water and broadcasted loud admonishments at the fire to knock it off already.

Susan, Joel, Genevieve and Jesse ran out into the street covering their faces, choking on the black air. As Jesse emerged, his 75-year-old body was knocked backwards by one of he fire engines’ hoses. Jesse was soak head to foot. The firefighters apologized, but Jesse merely brushed himself off and then generously complimented their work by saying, “I see you’re fighting a fire.” What a gentleman. The three perpetrators of the bank robbery also fled through the front of the building, but the police quickly halted and arrested them. As the fire finally subsided, amidst the damp charred masonry and broken glass, came another figure. Steve Carlsberg emerged from the bank, sweating and limping, but safe. An ambulance arrived to take the survivors to the hospital, but they all declined, except Steve who had a broken foot and gladly took the EMTs up on their offer. The bank robbers were transported to the abandoned mine shaft outside of town for questioning. It’s an open and shut case. The bad people lose and the good people win, and every single person, even the people who own Applebee’s, is glad no one had to purchase a one million dollar Applebee’s gift card. My brother-in-law is safe, as are his employees and customers. No one died and not a single dollar was taken from the bank registers at the front counter, nor the ATMs, nor the Coinstar. Even the fire didn’t damage those bills.

That was the good news. The bad news: as the police did a final sweep of the bank, searching for anyone else inside, whether they be customers or criminals, they reached the bank’s vault in the back of the building. Before he left the hospital, the police asked Steve Carlsberg to open the vault for them. “We’re sure everything’s fine, “they said. “It’s routine in a bank robbery,” they said. “I understand,” Steve said. He opened the vault, they looked inside, and they saw nothing. Millions of dollars in bills and gold were gone. Sheriff Sam said there’s a conspiracy here, and they’re going to really put the screws to the people they arrested. “No HBO until they explain where the money from the vault,” the Sheriff declared. And that’s a big deal, because a black lady’s sketch show just premiered last month and is crazy good. The Sheriff said they have no clues yet as to where the money in the vault went, but they did discover the robbers’ names are Richard, William, and Emma. Which is interesting because those are the names of the presidents whose masks they wore. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence,” the Sheriff said confidently. The bank lost a great deal of money today and some innocent people lost their sense of comfort, but we are all still alive. At least those in this story are, and I’m so happy to know my brother-in-law is safe, as are Jesse and Joel and Genevieve, whom I’ve never even met. I’m glad those specific people are OK as well as anyone else who was taken hostage today.

Stay tuned next for an unedited recording from two years ago of you talking to a kitten. You sound ridiculous.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Don’t go writing metaphors. Please stick to the similes and literal descriptions that you’re used to.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 174: Fancy Rich People Tea

Previously on BnHA: Mirio and Deku took Eri on a whirlwind weekend tour of U.A. We learned that class B is putting on a play for the festival which sounds amazing and also appears to be infringing on no fewer than three copyrights. We ran into Hadou and Amajiki who were doing some preparations for Hadou’s Miss Con campaign. We learned that the support department has a tech exhibition at the festival each year which is a big deal for them. We also learned that Shinsou is Still At It. Not sure what it is. But he’s still here guys! Finally we ran into Midnight and the Rat Principal at the cafeteria and learned that Rat Principal had to pull lots of strings and jump through a bunch of hoops in order to run the event this year. Basically security is going to be crazy, and if someone so much as sneezes something that sounds like ‘villain attack’ they will immediately call the whole thing off and evacuate. Sounds fair. All in all, Eri had a good time and is looking forward to the actual event! Also Deku got fired from the dance squad. That’s rough, buddy.

Today on BnHA: Mina explains that they need Deku to help the staging team turn Aoyama into a human disco ball. Deku agrees so long as he still gets to dance a little bit. The next morning Deku and All Might run into Mei while training in the woods. We learn that she’s working on a new support item for Deku which will be ready soon. That evening Momo makes some fancy tea for everyone while Deku fucks around on Youtube and accidentally stumbles across one of Gentle’s videos. We then cut to Gentle and La Brava, and Gent breaks down the details of his plan. They’ll take a sneaky route to approach U.A. on the day of the festival, using back streets and side roads. Then they’ll stop and drink tea (the same fancy brand that Momo uses) for an hour and a half. Then they’ll approach U.A. from the woods, and La Brava will breach U.A.’s security barrier with her mad hacking skills. We learn that she used those same skills to track down Gentle after she first saw his videos, and afterwards she devoted herself to his cause. Gentle says he is putting his heart and soul into this new plan for her sake and for the sake of his own dreams.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 199 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

look at this sweet girl trying to soften the blow

yeah because Aoyama totally ditched them. sorry Deku, they need a new disco ball

...or maybe not!

sorry Deku we need a new dispersal method for our disco ball

so wait. they’re really going through with this, huh. this wild stream-of-consciousness rambling from Mina really became the centerpiece for the entire dance floor

and Aoyama is FULLY ON BOARD now

so now this job is perfect for you huh. well you sure are a good sport

so they want Deku to break off from the main group at the same time as Aoyama and help him out

so once he has been “dispersed” you can probably still go have your dance with Eri, Deku! you can do that thing where she stands on top of your feet and you waltz around. it’s going to be so cute omg. make sure your mom videotapes it

speaking of are the parents going to get to come to this thing too? or will it really only be the kids. let their moms and dads come see all of their hard work!

(ETA: I was hoping we would see some of the parents but if they were there we missed it. booooo)

now Kiri is doing that hands-clapped-together pleading thing and apologizing to Deku, but he says they really need his help

lol so they’ve realized that they can’t put all their eggs into the “Aoyama as disco ball” basket

this is an honest-to-god serious conversation these kids are happening. with note-taking and everything. Todoroki fucking Shouto is in on this. “how long can we hold people’s attention by transforming Aoyama into a disco ball.” science

okay but. you guys... are planning other stuff too. right. ...???

(ETA: they sure are. that ice stuff that Mina also suggested. I’m telling you guys, she’s the undisputed MVP of this whole arc, and without her their festival program would have been shit)

lol well okay then. this is going to be so interesting

anyway so Deku’s all “I guess it’s okay then as long as I have a turn dancing,” and he’s agreeing to it

now we’re cutting to 6:30 a.m. on some random unknown day and Deku is training for his new move under All Might’s supervision

All Might is chock full of sage mentor wisdom

“always remember: bleeding internally is bad.” good stuff. write that down, Deku

he’s asking All Might if he has any tricks for maintaining control of the attack, since this is the first move he’s learned that he can’t just use freely

sage mentor wisdom

so apparently All Might was some sort of OFA prodigy and was able to control 100% OFA almost instantly. so he really genuinely has no idea how to teach it, because to him it just came naturally

was he just that buff when he got the quirk?? how old was he when he got it? did he actually attend U.A. as a quirkless kid? because middle school Toshinori sure as hell wasn’t ripped just yet, I can definitely tell you that much

I’m very, very, very curious about this, ngl. because I feel like the series has yet to clarify whether you need to be built like a Marvel Chris in order for your body to have the stamina to withstand OFA, or if that actually doesn’t have that much to do with it and the control needed to master it is actually more mental/spiritual than physical

like obviously physicality has a lot to do with it, though. but All Might could still use 100% for a long time even in his withered and weakened body. and Shimura, the only other OFA user we’ve seen at this juncture, was obviously super cool and tough, but it wasn’t like she was a female body builder or anything

and then of course there’s the question of exactly how much stronger Deku’s version of OFA is, though. how much of a difference is there because All Might’s strength was added to the mix? that obviously makes a big difference as well

basically I still have a lot of questions! maybe I should get back to this training scene and see if it answers any of them!

so he’s telling Deku to visualize the image of OFA -- the egg in microwave image again, I guess? -- and remember that sensation in his body. basically he’s trying to coach him on bringing it out intuitively

and Deku’s thinking to himself that even though they were both born quirkless, there’s a big difference between them still

so this does make it sound like a lot of it is mental

honestly that’s exciting and very important to me because it means that if Deku ever has a breakthrough, he could potentially make a huge leap forward in progress very suddenly

(ETA: LOOOOOOL good god I’ll say.

also! now that I know more about future developments with OFA, I’ve been thinking that I wasn’t giving Deku enough credit here. he is, in fact, just as much of a prodigy as All Might, I think. the difference is that All Might was able to master the physical aspects of OFA, whereas Deku seems to be more in touch with the spiritual side that All Might (supposedly) never really awakened. or to put it in Avatar: The Last Airbender terms, All Might was more of a Korra and Deku is more of an Aang. fortunately for Deku, it seems that being in tune with the spiritual part of OFA gives you access to some really neat stuff, holy shit.)

HOLY SHIT

THIS DUDE’S STILL GOT IT

holy shit that came out of nowhere at top speed and he caught it without looking like a total badass. WHO EVEN NEEDS ONE FOR ALL. OR ORGANS

so now Mei’s traipsing out of the woods and asking if anyone got hurt. nope, but you almost killed my husband and my son so try to be more careful next time

Deku’s belatedly realizing that this looks kind of weird, him being out in the middle of the woods having SECRET TRAINING with All Might at the crack of dawn

so All Might, master of improvisation that he is, is switching to Kansai dialect for some reason. to try and disguise himself. because of course that’ll work

thankfully, out of everyone they could have stumbled across in the woods, Hatsume Mei is the most singularly one-track-minded person they could have possibly met, and she’s barely even batting an eye

hmm?

new item, eh?

and he’s surprised and says he thought it wouldn’t be ready until after the cultural festival

but she already had the materials, so she says it’ll take no time at all

so he’s thanking her and now she’s walking off again

and by the way, this thing that All Might caught literally is a golden snitch, though

All Might > Harry Potter confirmed

(ETA: and by the way, this makes two HP references two chapters in a row, given the title of 1-B’s play. Horikoshi must have recently marathoned the films or something)

now he’s asking Deku about the new item

Deku says there was something he wanted to try out with his new technique

All Might is mentioning that he also tried using support items at one point back in the day, but apparently they only ended up getting in his way and tended to break whenever he went over 20-30%

oh hey

haven’t seen this in a while. here I thought his suit was way too fitted to accommodate this sort of thing anymore. he’s probably ruined it now

(ETA: you can actually see that the top button is about to pop off lol)

anyway, he’s telling Deku that using support items is great, just so long as he doesn’t end up relying on them too much

he says he’s seen a lot of instances where heroes that relied too much on their items had a bad time when those items were lost

this kinda seems to go against what Aoyama was saying a few chapters earlier. he’s an example of someone who does rely on a support item, and he seems to do all right. but I get what All Might is trying to tell him though

so Deku is all “got it!” and clenching his fist determinedly

aww

it is, though. I was just thinking that. I adore these All Might/Deku training scenes and it’s been great to have a return to this

so now we’re cutting back to Heights Alliance, and I’m assuming it’s the evening because the moon is up

Bakugou is squabbling with Kaminari and telling him he he plays too fast. Kaminari says Bakugou is the one screwing them up because he keeps improvising

obligatory posting of this panel of MomoJirou being lesbians

I live for the little things, I really do

omg

okay, (1) this is the cutest thing that’s ever happened ever in history, and (2) I just remembered that that was the chapter title. “imperial golden tips.” so it appears the chapter is named after Momo’s fancy tea that her mom sent her

everyone’s all excited to try it because it’s fancy rich people tea

lmao. Ochako’s asking if Deku’s going to have any, and

“am I... a bad nerd??” Deku berates himself while lying awake in bed that night sobbing uncontrollably

so I think that while Deku and Ochako are being clumsy dorks here they’re going to accidentally click on one of Gentle’s videos perhaps?

yep

in a way it’s kind of charming to know that Youtube’s suggested videos algorithm is still complete shit even in the BnHA universe 200 years from now. Deku was looking for All Might support items. Youtube: [brings up villain tea videos]

so Ochako has no idea who he is, but Deku’s actually heard of him although he says he’s not too familiar. but he knows he’s an infamous Youtube Villain

:) the answer may surprise you!

though it shouldn’t, actually. you guys should just go ahead and assume you’re the targets of every upcoming villain plot from here on out. that’s the way the dice seem to be falling nowadays

now we’re cutting to Gentle and La Brava

Gentle is writing something out with a feather quill like some sort of Harry Potter character. I couldn’t come up with a more creative simile because my mind’s still in that mode thanks to the golden snitch earlier

this man just sits around in full costume writing letters with a quill even as a laptop sits inches away. he’s just that committed to his gig. he lives this life 24/7 huh

he says that the public is growing more and more dissatisfied with heroes nowadays, and it’s because they’re “feeble-minded”

I’d actually argue that at this point, them being attacked is the predictable thing

now La Brava is asking if he’s going to involve the kids that will become future heroes. YEAH, GENTLE

I’D ARGUE THAT THEY’VE HAD ENOUGH WAKE UP CALLS BY THIS POINT

like. can they live. can they just have this one little thing though, god

oh my god

thanks La Brava. this is why he keeps you around

so now they’re going over the route!

so they’re going to approach at 5 a.m. that morning, taking a route that passes by the fewest hero offices

then they’re going to turn onto a side road, go through a residential area, and then they’ll end up at a park

blah blah so about an hour will elapse during this time and they’ll end up at a rundown house that’s actually a cafe

and he says they’re going to stop there to get some tea

apparently they serve the same tea that that Momo was coincidentally serving to everyone earlier. the imperial golden tips stuff

so... they’re going to wait until the shop opens, and then take a 90-minute tea break

let me tell you, it sure is riveting going through every detailed step of this elaborate criminal operation

then they go back outside and pass through a construction site and then climb a hill

ah, finally!

yeah probably at like 5pm at this rate. the festival will have already ended and you shrug and turn around and head back home

he says that since Hounddog will probably be guarding the area, they’ll rub themselves with dirt and leaves to mask their scent

then they’re gonna hit the famed U.A. barrier, which is impossible to get through without a permit

but apparently La Brava is A HACKING PRO, so she’s gonna hack U.A.’s network and shut down their sensors

is it really that easy? shit. doesn’t U.A. have any IT heroes? little did we know this whole time the password to their network was 1234

lmao we’re flashing back to when they first met

“corrupt businessman scolded” sounds like the kind of shit that should have gone viral tbh

then one day La Brava tracked him down and said she was a huge fan and she offered to help him

she apparently hacked his address. since the police haven’t found them yet, I’m assuming they’ve since moved, or taken down that initial video, or both lol

so now he’s proclaiming that this time around he’ll proudly put his life on the line

aww

yeah so that’s basically it. and now time is progressing to the night before the cultural festival OH GOODNESS

BONUS:

so as promised, we’re gonna do two pages today since I flaked out yesterday!

page one - class B painting the prop dragon

nothing much to say about this one except that obviously they’re going to keep painting it until they’re fucking done painting it, Colander Man

page two - Kenrazaki Bibimi’s profile. I couldn’t find a scanlation for this, so my Google Translate-assisted version is below lol

likes: glittering people, glittering things

the beauty gal

“too beautiful. it’s fun to draw her eyelashes.” lol

is it weird that now that the shock of said lashes has died down some, I actually do think she is really pretty? lol what is this manga doing to me

[allagan-weeb]

EXEC_LINKER/.

“Finally. It’s cool tonight.”

Mor Dhona was an interesting place, thanks to being a battle scar of the earth in itself. It made the area breathe unlike any other, with its’ chaotic imbalance of aether and the many things still churning, be it currently alive at the surface or ancient and buried. Many described it as having a magical aesthetic, but it was also a treasure trove of lost knowledge. This was exactly the sort of stuff that attracted this archaeologist-wanna-be of a rat.

Indeed, but even on warmer nights as this the star-filled skies still never cease to impress. Even while Nero was lazily sprawled out with his back against the ground. He had built a makeshift base within a cave just feet away, but toiling and researching in such an environment proved to be rather muggy and uncomfortable. The cool ground did wonders for relief.

A familiar beacon could be seen in the distance. The Crystal Tower, glowing softly with the surrounding atmosphere of lights reflecting off of it. The sight of it caused memories and emotions to bubble back to the surface.

With a deep sigh, he slipped a small contraption into his ear. Not a Linkpearl, but rather something of his own craft. A misshapen recording chant played, but it wasn’t any ordinary chant. Even through the static and crackling, one could tell it was something alien of this world. Something that he had picked up long, long ago. It was the very thing that gave appetite to his lust for knowledge and power, for he wished to know, understand, and reach whatever this sourced from.

       .as yant ga... c.s ...mnos .ea ... ♪

                   En ...ee fwal, ..al .ea ... ♪

He could still remember the first time his equipment picked up the chant. Back then, he was still tasked of spying on the Warrior of Light--still a part of an Empire he wished to be recognized in. It was that day where his motivation towards knowledge and power began to shift heavily. 

       W.s ...t g..is chs hy....s ..a ...♪                     E. ch..e f..l, ..al me...♪

What was this exactly? He had no idea. He could only remember entirely dropping whatever work he was doing on the Ultima weapon to dive towards the contraption that was barely picking up this static-y excuse of a message. It was in a language he had never heard and, through the crackling, the voice sounded.... odd... as if the source had multiple vocals somehow. He knew it dripped of power. A power that would shame anything else that had been found or invented.

 “What?... Wait, what was that-”

At that moment everything else around him no longer existed. There was only this superb mystery and there was very, very little to go off of it. It would be this very recording, although incomplete, that reignited his passions that has thus driven him this far. The instrument he used to spy on his enemies would be altered to not only track his foe, but also to attempt to pick up anymore of this message.

Nero continued to follow and watch the Warrior of Light, being that he felt that this blip on his radar was only found due to this rival. If he continued to follow and study the Warrior, he assumed more information about the source of this chance would eventually surface. It had to.

Of course there would be no doubt that he would be right. He is Nero tol Scaeva after all.

“He who will out do Garlond and even the Allagans themselves,” as he often said.

Finally, the contraption upon his wrist that he often doted over sang out, but much more clearly than before:

      Was yant gagis chs hymmnos mea...♪                        En chsee fwal, fwal mea...♪  

Fou paks ra, diasee, sarrifis hyzik tes dius yor... ♪

This was soon after the disaster that was Praetorium. Soon after he was exiled from his homeland and forced to wander the land of the savages. At this point his desires were defeated and everything lost. The only thing left was a fleeting flutter of revenge and the contraption that he still clung to. The song. That song--what was it?

Quietly, he schemed. He still followed closely at the wake of the Warrior of Light’s footsteps. He needed to know what was the source of this, even if it killed him. After all, he had nothing else to lose.

Certainly, it must be something connected to the Crystal Tower, There was too much potential at this wonderland of knowledge for it to be anything else. The events that transpired there was only further proof of his assumptions.

“So...this is the legacy the Allagan Empire left behind. If my readings are correct, the energy source waiting atop the tower is a match for even the Ultima Weapon. Nay...more than a match. Heh heh heh... A new toy for me to play with.”

At least that’s how he convinced himself to feel about it. In all honesty the source was playing with him due to the extreme obsession that had grown from it. If only he had any idea exactly how much of a toy he would end up being to the source of this voice. That voice which was now repeating a single phrase, over and over,

Rrha ki ra tek wim tes yor....     Rrha ki ra tek wim tes yor....            Rrha ki ra tek wim tes yor....                       Rrha ki ra tek wim tes yor.... ...

After all was said and done, and after his newfound debt he had towards his childhood rival, there was yet a single quote that lingered at the back of his head. A quote from that woman he so selfishly defended and saved,

“What you seek by this instrument may not be possible, Nero. But do not give up. There are many other paths that await you.”

...Of course they do.

Nero remembered all too well how he stood alone afterwards, looking down upon the instrument in his hand, and jaw clenched in both disappointment and enlightenment.

The thing was now silent.

Too silent... and somehow he knew he would never hear that beautiful voice from it ever again. Therefor, he tossed the now useless thing into the abyss before him.

At the same time, he also had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he would hear it. In the mean time, he would study the recordings. He had to try and decipher it. That passion of his to climb to the top would never falter.

He would continue on. Renewed, he would continue to grow and evolve at any means necessary.

He will find the source of this voice.

Suddenly his body jerked and startled itself awake.

“Ngh... How long has it been? Curses-” he grunted as he pressed against a knee to hoist himself into a sleepy standing position. Reaching up, he finally switched off the contraption that had been repeating the chant.

This was a sort of ritual of his. At least once a day he had to listen to it--analyzing what he heard over and over to the point of insanity and back. Again and again. He was hoping for some breakthrough in deciphering it.

...At least that use to be the reason for listening to it.

“Ah, I better retire properly. Not unless I want a little god-creature waking and being insufferably upset due to waking up by themselves. I know I’m certainly in no state to be able to withstand the sour pout they would likely guilt me with.”

After brushing himself off, Nero quietly retreated back into the cave where bedding was dressed into the deeper, cooler section of it. There, something that looked similar to a child lay asleep. Captured between their arms was a makeshift plush, which Nero had no doubt sewn himself. Male? Female? Who knew. Not even Nero knew after extensive study of this synthetic yet living humanoid. It seemed as though this animated ball-jointed-like doll was created without such trivial characteristics in mind.

This made no difference to the engineer. To him, this creature was perfect and beautiful just the way they were.

The source of the voice? This was certainly it. Now, how did it come to be that he came across this creature? Why, that will be saved for another fit of accidental dreaming.

As far as the Garlean was concerned, he was just happy he ended up with the antiqued thing from another world. That much was prominent with how he leaned over to gently place a hand over the other’s forehead. All the while a very fatherly-like smile managed to wriggle its’ way to the surface.

This sort of life and these sorts of emotions was exceedingly far from how he first predicted his happiness would be upon finding the source of that voice.

Not even he knew that his obsession for power would somehow twist into the love of that of a parent.

Not only a parent to what he was convinced in being the greatest thing ever created within the very fabrics of space and time--but a parent to his first and only family. 

                          This was his child.

   Rrha ki ra tek wim tes yor,...♪               en weel waath dius manaf, yat!♪

[thecourtreportersportedjorts]

The Top Ten Best Hit Songs of 2018

In December of each year, Billboard publishes its list of the 100 biggest hit songs of the last 12 months. In response, I take it upon myself to decide which of these songs were the real hits, and which were the biggest misses. Last time, I tackled the worst, so we'll be looking at the highlights this time. Let's get started:

10. "Stir Fry" by Migos

Like Drake’s Scorpion, I decided to sit out Culture II. And just like that album, I was actually excited to hear what the Migos had to offer, before discovering that the album would consist of 24 tracks. Reports that the Atlanta trap purveyors only spent 20 to 45 minutes in the studio for each song only made me less interested in what would surely be a slog of an album. I figured that hearing the numbingly repetitive “Walk It Talk It” would be a perfect microcosm of the album. But just like Drake (who I will be discussing later on this list), there were singles that gave me hope, especially “Stir Fry.”

Sure, “MotorSport” was a great lead single that saw Offset and Takeoff holding their own against some excellent guest verses from Nicki and Cardi, but “Stir Fry” found the group advancing on all fronts. The flows were faster and more dynamic, and Quavo’s multiple hooks were among his stickiest to date. Of course, the song isn’t really about anything besides cooking and dealing hard drugs, but the wordplay and rhyme schemes are more advanced than usual, especially coming from Offset.

But the most interesting thing about “Stir Fry” comes from its production. The Pharrell-crafted beat is apparently a leftover from 2008, but the track nevertheless sounds refreshing, even futuristic, amidst the unending wave of boilerplate trap bangers. The whistles, buzzing synths, and boom-bap-adjacent drums are totally uncharacteristic of Migos’ usual style, and just like “Slide” last year, it’s evidence that these guys put in some of their best work when accompanied by more uptempo instrumentation. It may not be “that trap sound,” but if more artists take Pharrell’s cues, it very well could be.

9. "Call Out My Name" by The Weeknd

As much as I’ve been singing The Weeknd’s praises on these lists since his mainstream breakthrough in 2015, it may be surprising that I’ve never talked about his first solo hit “Earned It.” There’s a good reason for that: I just don’t feel strongly about the song one way or another. Sure, the song was good enough that it could make you forget it was on the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack, but it didn’t quite match up against the harrowing atmosphere of “The Hills” or especially the infectious groove of “Can’t Feel My Face.” And now, after the release of “Call Out My Name” in 2018, the Fifty Shades hit even got an update!

To be fair, “Call Out My Name” only bears similarity to “Earned It” in its musicality. It’s a recasting of the earlier song as a more melancholic ballad that gives credence to early claims that My Dear Melancholy, would return to Abel Tesfaye’s original sound. The song is built around a well-utilized sample of “Killing Time” by Nicolas Jaar (who, by the way, dropped one of the year’s best albums with Against All Logic's compilation 2012-2017) that builds to a fever pitch with its pounding drums, mournful synths, and vocal distortion. Fitting of a track with Jaar’s imprint, it’s some of the most inventive production work in 2018’s pop landscape, and yet another entry into the canon of great singles by The Weeknd.

Oddly enough, “Call Out My Name” also recalls “I Feel It Coming” in that it subverts the persona that has become integral to The Weeknd’s music. Tesfaye, who normally plays the heartbreaker on cuts like “The Hills” or “Angel,” finds himself in the opposite situation, which was undoubtedly informed by his well-publicized breakup with Selena Gomez. The result is one of the singer’s most captivating vocal performances in recent memory. While the similarities to “Earned It” may keep this song from ranking higher, I can’t deny that “Call Out My Name” is still a worthwhile song that encapsulates everything a good Weeknd song is about.

8. "King's Dead" by Jay Rock, Kendrick Lamar, Future & James Blake

It may have been a year since its release, but it's worth reiterating that Black Panther was every bit as good as anticipated. The film featured stunning visuals, dizzying action sequences, profound messaging, and an especially strong performance by Michael B. Jordan as Killmonger. But since I’m not a film critic, I’d rather discuss the film’s soundtrack, which was expertly curated by none other than Kendrick Lamar. Fresh off the monumental success of 2017’s DAMN., the soundtrack could easily be dismissed as a victory lap where the Compton rapper highlights some budding talents, but the album is stacked with great pop songs and thrilling bangers.

“King’s Dead” immediately cements itself in the latter category with its infectious hook, where Lamar repeats key phrases like “miss me with that bullshit” and “this ain’t what you want.” Top Dawg labelmate Jay Rock, who makes his Billboard Hot 100 debut here, takes the first verse with a delivery that’s repetitive, but his flow is also hypnotic in its speed. Future takes the mic next, using his trademark Autotuned crooning before suddenly bursting into a creaky falsetto where he references iconic the rap tracks “La Di Da Di” and “Slob on My Knob.” It’s utterly bizarre, and perhaps very Not Good™, but it nevertheless captures the attention and gets a smile out of me every time.

Then, two minutes in, something amazing happens. James Fucking Blake sings a brief interlude, and the no-nonsense trap beat transforms into a freewheeling trunk-knocker with a bass that rivals Lamar’s own “DNA.” in its size. Lamar finishes the song off with a mind-altering verse that somehow works with the beat despite their decidedly off-kilter rhythms. He also refers to himself as “King Killmonger” after seemingly aligning himself with the Black Panther antagonist’s ambitions throughout his verse. It’s an absolute journey of a track that still hits hard, even well after the film’s release.

7. "Be Careful" by Cardi B

A lot of people expected Cardi B to fall off after the runaway success of “Bodak Yellow.” After the follow-up single “Bartier Cardi” treaded the same ground (with some help from 21 Savage), it seemed entirely possible. Surprisingly, the Bronx rapper continued to notch great guest verses on songs with Migos, Bruno Mars, and even G-Eazy, and her album Invasion of Privacy turned out to be the sort of all-killer, no-filler rap album that is a growing rarity amongst the likes of Culture II and Scorpion. “Bodak” was just the tip of the iceberg, and “Be Careful” immediately follows it on the album’s tracklist, further complicating the entire phenomenon that is Cardi B.

Taking cues from the flute-laced beats that were in vogue around 2016 to 2017, master producer Boi-1da approaches “Be Careful” with the same keen ear that defined earlier tracks or “Work” and “The Blacker the Berry.” On top of this, Cardi proves to be a charismatic singer in her own right, whether providing her own hook or interpolating the legendary bridge of Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor.” It’s this particular reference that causes the track on the whole to sound slightly out of step with the mainstream, bearing a welcome resemblance to the pop-rap of the late 90s or early 2000s.

All of this makes “Be Careful” a standout in Cardi’s catalog, but the songwriting only enhances its quality. Where a song like “I’m Upset” or even Cardi’s own “Bartier Cardi” might feel more awkward in light of recent events, “Be Careful” and its verses about infidelity only ring even more powerfully after her particularly uncomfortable split from Offset. The second verse is one of her strongest so far, highlighting how her partner (who she apparently claims isn’t Offset) is affecting her mental health and exacerbating her insecurities. Anyone who dismissed Cardi as a one-dimensional artist after hearing “Bodak Yellow” and some spare guest verses may find themselves surprised at the vulnerability she displays so fearlessly here.

6. "God is a Woman" by Ariana Grande

Even a cursory look at 2018’s year-end chart will reveal that the genre of pop wasn’t nearly as significant as it was in a year like 2012 or 2015. You could probably tell just by reading this list, as it’s been dominated by rappers and The Weeknd, who took a turn back to his darker, alternative R&B sound. The sound of trap music doesn’t exactly lend itself well to a pop sensibility, which is why artists who attempt for some sort of middle ground (i.e. Post Malone) only end up sounding really wishy-washy and unimpressive. Of course, there are exceptions, and it comes as no surprise that one such example would come from Ariana Grande.

“God is a Woman” is a best-of-both-worlds marriage of the two sides of Sweetener: the bubbly trap crafted by Pharrell, and the massive Max Martin-produced pop that has become Ariana’s signature sound. In other words, the track has the hard-hitting drums of a Travis Scott song, paired with the momentum of songs like “Can’t Feel My Face” or “Style.” Nothing about the song feels compromised, especially as the song builds to a triumphant climax featuring Ariana’s whistle notes and a grand backing choir that make for one of music’s best moments in 2018.

The title of “God is a Woman” alone indicates that Ariana isn’t holding back here, even as she tackles the same forceful, sexually charged pop that characterized “Love Me Harder” or “Into You.” This time, she takes the familiar subject matter and infuses it with a sort of spiritually-informed feminism that’s just gleefully blasphemous enough to win me over instantly. All the while, she exhibits her full-bodied lower register, the aforementioned whistle notes, and even a delivery that transforms the Migos flow into something bigger and more portentous. In the pop landscape of 2018, Ariana Grande easily delivered on her title, easily claiming god status with this magnificent song.

5. "SICKO MODE" by Travis Scott

When I included “Love Galore” on this list in 2017, I feared that I may have given the impression that I dislike Travis Scott. I admitted that I didn’t like the song quite as much as “Drew Barrymore” or “The Weekend” (which could have topped this chart had it performed better), but it ranked relatively low on the list because I thought his verse was detrimental to the song as a whole. That said, I’ve actually been a fan of Travis ever since he refined the trap aesthetic on his debut album Rodeo, and it’s been a pleasure to see the Houston rapper continue to expand upon rap’s hottest sound to increasingly lucrative results. In 2018, he released ASTROWORLD, his biggest and best album to date, and he managed a surprise chart-topper with “SICKO MODE,” the cornerstone of the album.

The first minute of “SICKO MODE” might seem unsuspecting. Sure, the synth chords might be foreboding, but you’re soon greeted to an uncredited Drake singing about a friend struggling to make ends meet in a seemingly patronizing way. But he sounds better here than nearly any other song he made this year. The drums kick in, Drake adopts a faster flow, and as soon as he introduces Travis, the beat changes to a blend of hypnotic synths, fat bass, and whirring sound effects and samples. Travis’ flow is at its most infectious to date, and he cements his unique curator status with the iconic line, “who put this shit together? I’m the glue.”

After a cameo from Swae Lee, the synths glitch, and we’re treated to yet another sudden beat switch, this time to a more subdued, organ-laden production by Tay Keith. Drake also returns, seemingly motivated by Travis’ performance as he delivers one of his coldest flows since If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late. The resulting verse is a thrill to listen to, but Travis finishes off the track by building on Drake’s “out like a light” hook and using the same flow. Sure, Travis may be the one who put this shit together, but “SICKO MODE” proves that he knows how to make the most out of his collaborations.

It’s also worth noting that in a rap landscape ruled by the likes of Lil Pump and XXXTentacion, the five-minute runtime of “SICKO MODE” seems a little excessive. But the fact that the song is essentially a suite of much smaller trap bangers proves yet again that Travis Scott has an uncanny knack for upgrading the current sound. In a way, it’s also an answer to “Te Bote” in that Travis and Drake can at least justify the song’s length with a wealth of captivating musical ideas. When this shit is way too formal, y’all know Travis Scott doesn’t follow suit, and it’s a blessing to see him continue to innovate.

4. "Delicate" by Taylor Swift

Last year, I omitted what should have been an obvious pick for my Worst Hit Songs List: Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do.” Maybe it’s just because anything Jack Antonoff touches immediately sounds good to my ears, but I couldn’t really muster up any sort of hatred for the song. On first listen, it registered as campy and nowhere near as self-serious as so many people made it out to be. That said, I understand why “Look What You Made Me Do” wasn’t so well-liked, and I still hold that it was a terrible choice for Reputation’s lead single.

Much of this belief has to do with “Delicate,” the song that – for whatever reason – precedes “Look What You Made Me Do” in the album’s track sequence. Much like that song, “Delicate” tackles the subject of fame, except in a return to the relationship-oriented format in which Taylor excels. She finds herself anxious that anything she says can be misinterpreted and used against her, realizing that her “reputation’s never been worse.” Thus, when she finally meets a guy who’s interested in her despite all the drama, it sparks a subtle kind of joy in her that builds as the song progresses.

“A subtle kind of joy” is also a good way to describe the instrumentation on “Delicate,” which always reminded me of the sounds The xx explored on their 2017 album, I See You. It shares a lot in common with that album’s subdued tropical synths, gently building dance grooves, and vocal manipulations. I See You was widely regarded as an expansion of the low-key, intimate sound that became the group’s calling card, and the same can be said about “Delicate,” which is only given deeper meaning with the firestorm of controversy that surrounded Reputation’s rollout. If this were released as the lead single rather than “Look What You Made Me Do,” perhaps the album would have been much easier to swallow.

3. "Nice for What" by Drake

Since writing my worst list this year, I’ve tried listening to Scorpion again, and with only a few exceptions, the album confirmed pretty much all the fears I had when I heard “I’m Upset.” If VIEWS was considered a decline in quality for the Toronto rapper, this album walked right up to the line of self-parody, seeing Drake moaning half-heartedly about women and fame on top of some of the sparsest, blandest instrumentals his producers have offered up to date. In other words, I know shorty, and she doesn’t want know slow song, which Scorpion offered up in smothering abundance. And while there are some songs on the album that succeed despite their obvious formula, the only song that breaks out of the mold is “Nice for What.”

If anything, the greatness of “Nice for What” only puts the its parent album’s failings into sharper focus. With every successive project, it seems that Drake tries adding a new style of music to his repertoire, whether it’s trap on Nothing Was the Same or dancehall on VIEWS. This time around, he’s trying his hand at the energetic, largely underground style of New Orleans bounce. The genre is known for its heavy use of samples, so it’s only fitting that the track not only samples bounce legend Big Freedia’s voice, but the second sample of the bridge of Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor” to hit the charts this year. Where “Be Careful” only interpolated the bridge as a hook, producer Murda Beatz makes the sample the foundation of “Nice for What,” and it sounds absolutely blissful.

Then there’s the lyrics, which have been highly celebrated for their message of women’s empowerment. Given that this is by the same guy who made songs like “Hotline Bling” and “Child’s Play,” it could be easy to dismiss “Nice for What” as a textbook example of pandering, but I’d much rather hear Drake pandering than hear him say another goddamn word about child support. Furthermore, the song forgoes the usual trappings of female empowerment anthems written and performed by men by not harping on how badly he wants to have sex with the women he writes about. Top this off with Drake sounding the most energized he's arguably ever been, and it’s hard not to believe every second of the song.

2. "I Like It" by Cardi B, Bad Bunny, & J Balvin

In case it hasn’t been abundantly clear by now, Cardi B had an absolutely tremendous 2018. Looking over the year-end charts, she made eight appearances on the list, tying with Drake for the most spots occupied by one artist. Sure, one of those was “Bodak Yellow,” and half of them were guest appearances for the likes of G-Eazy and Maroon 5 (sigh), but the fact that she managed to churn out three more hits from Invasion of Privacy is still remarkable. I already discussed “Be Careful” at length, and “Bartier Cardi” was fine enough for what it was, but it was “I Like It” that landed her a second number one hit, and possibly the most important song of her career.

For starters, it’s worth noting that “I Like It” does something successfully that far too many hit songs don’t: it uses a sample of a well-known song to a benefit rather than a detriment. The song samples “I Like It Like That,” a 1967 track by boogaloo legend Pete Rodriguez that’s become a staple of Latin music in its half-century of existence. The resulting track is a mix of traditional Latin music instrumentation with a shuffling trap beat that’s just as lively as the music it’s referencing. In a year where reggaetón had a much greater mainstream presence than usual, it’s surprising that none of the songs that landed on the charts sounded quite as good as this.

While the production is certainly some of the best I’ve heard all year, you'd first go to Cardi B for her verses and her personality, which “I Like It” delivers in spades. The beat serves as the perfect backdrop for Cardi’s verse, where she brags about her taste for luxury goods, all the while referencing her enjoyment of things like NYC street food. It adds dimensionality to her well-documented rags-to-riches narrative, highlighting her Bronx roots while also celebrating her current success. A pair of excellent guest verses by reggaetón stars Bad Bunny and J Balvin show that she clearly plans to use her success for good, giving a greater platform to other Latinx artists.

It may not have been the near-record breaker that “Despacito” was in 2017, but the fact that “I Like It” was a smash hit further cements Latin music’s place in the American pop landscape. Make no mistake, considering how hostile the current administration and its supporters have been to Latin American immigrants, this is incredibly significant. Obviously, Cardi B is a more conventional rapper rather than a reggaetón artist, but she’s still a woman of Dominican heritage who’s using her music to show solidarity with her community, and if there’s any justice in this world, it could suggest a true cultural change in the near future.

But before I unveil my choice for the Best Hit Song of 2018, here are my Honorable Mentions:

“All the Stars” by Kendrick Lamar feat. SZA, “Pray for Me” by The Weeknd feat. Kendrick Lamar: Befitting of the Black Panther film, Kendrick delivers sharp verses about responsibility and fame, SZA and The Weeknd deliver fantastic vocals as usual, and the production combines cinematic swells with glitchy electronics. The only thing keeping these songs from the list proper is that the artists’ personalities feel slightly compromised.

“Boo’d Up” by Ella Mai: Since dominating the charts in 2014, DJ Mustard has been experimenting with his 808-driven sound. Here, he crafts a gloriously retro R&B track with London singer Ella Mai, creating a joyful, lovesick track that could be best described as “Boom Clap” for 2018.

“Sky Walker” by Miguel feat. Travis Scott: It’s been way too long since I’ve been able to talk about Miguel on this list. The 2017 album War & Leisure saw the R&B virtuoso coasting by on effortless vocals and charisma, but the blissed-out vibe of “Sky Walker” proves that’s still a lot of fun in its own right. Travis does his thing pretty well, too.

“Finesse” by Bruno Mars feat. Cardi B: I was wondering when someone would revive the new jack swing sound of the early 90s, and leave it to none other than Bruno Mars to be up for the challenge. It’s no surprise that he sounds as great as always here, but what does surprise me is how perfectly Cardi B’s flow fits.

“MotorSport” by Migos, Cardi B & Nicki Minaj: I can’t be the only one who thinks this song is pretty awkward to listen to now, considering the split between Cardi and Offset, as well as Cardi and Nicki’s feud that erupted later in the year. Still, everyone but Quavo puts forth a great performance, and Murda Beatz crafts one of this year’s most hypnotic bangers.

“In My Blood” by Shawn Mendes: Look, credit where it’s due, Mendes wrote a really good song about his struggles with anxiety, and he finally has organic-sounding production that compliments the song’s structure really well. I’m still not completely sold on him as a singer yet, but he puts forth enough effort for me to like “In My Blood” quite a bit.

“This Is America” by Childish Gambino: If I were including music videos in my placement of the songs on this list, this could have contended for the top spot. The song itself, while admirably direct in its lyricism and its freewheeling instrumental, works better as an accompaniment to the stunningly layered visuals that Glover assembled to put forth his commentary about race relations and gun control.

“LOVE.” by Kendrick Lamar feat. Zacari: Well over a year after its release, Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. is still a phenomenal album. “LOVE.” still stands as a highlight from the album, boasting melodic flows, serene production, gorgeous vocals from Zacari, and one of Kendrick’s most poignant hooks to date. It may be the most pop-oriented track Kendrick’s put on an album to date, but at least he sounds like he’s actually putting in an actual effort.

And now, here's my pick for the Best Hit Song of 2018:

1. "No Tears Left to Cry" by Ariana Grande

In my 2017 lists, I made a recurring observation that popular music doesn’t exist without context. That mentality definitely crossed over into my previous list, where I didn’t choose the worst four on the list just because they were made by abusive people, but because most of them actively reminded me of their heinous acts. Of course, that also means that great art can be made in the wake of significant life events. It’s partially for this reason that Kesha’s triumphant comeback “Praying” topped this list last time, and in 2018, Ariana Grande made an equally powerful return with “No Tears Left to Cry.”

I don’t need to explain the circumstances that led up to this point, but since the release of “No Tears Left to Cry,” Ariana has made one thing abundantly clear: she wants to use her music to spread positivity into the world. The song starts off with soft, humming synths and Ariana’s heavenly voice, boldly stating that she’s ready to move on from her past trauma. As she repeats “I’m pickin’ it up,” the tempo follows suit, percussion begins to swell, and the song becomes a shot of pure UK garage-influenced joy.

The verses feature these stabs of synths, a persistent, dusty groove, and gentle strings that have all coalesce into a somewhat tense arrangement. During the first verse, Ariana opts for a more hushed delivery, somehow suggesting that it’s difficult to try and put forth that positive energy when everything around you is so overwhelming. And yet, she puts forth a real effort, climbing up in her vocal register. Now, the chorus introduced earlier hits even harder with the help of the quicker tempo and the fuller backing. “I just want you to come with me, we on another mentality,” she sings, implying that it could be just as easy for you to adopt the same mindset and charge forth in life.

Since its release, Ariana’s put out plenty of singles with a similar message. “The Light Is Coming,” “Breathin” and especially “Thank U Next.” Had it performed well enough, “Breathin” could have easily taken this spot for its massive buildup and its lyrics about coping with anxiety. But where that song may speak to the personal struggles with anxiety I’ve had in the last few years, I believe “No Tears Left to Cry” represents something broader, a new way forward of sorts. With so much lifeless, depressing music by repulsive human beings clogging the upper echelons of the charts, somebody needed to create something to challenge it. "I just want you to come with me," indeed.

Thanks for reading!

[melthemischievous]

I’ll Be With You From Dusk Till Dawn

A/N: This is my first time ever writing a fanfic, so I hope you guys enjoy it. I had to sort of leave the story in a cliffhanger, since it was getting a bit long, so there might be another part to it. This was written for @cleolemonfanfiction ‘s Marvel Men Writing Challenge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black Reader

Word Count: 2201

Warning: Fluff, and mentions of past trauma

Prompt: Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN & Sia

Summary: The setting takes place somewhat between the ending of Captain America: Civil War and Black Panther. When a telepathic outcast becomes the caretaker of an outcast on the road to redemption, they form an inseparable bond

  It has been a few difficult months when it came to working with such a broken mind. Hydra was very thorough with their brainwashing program, especially with their super soldier, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known to the world as the Winter Soldier. Any normal doctor or psychologist would’ve given up ages ago, since Bucky’s mind was so damaged. But lucky for him, you were willing to step up to the plate. Not only were you T’Challa, who was to become the new king of Wakanda, and Shuri’s cousin,  but Hydra had also caused you great pain in the past. Despite all the hardships you’ve endured, you took on being Shuri’s assistant in order to prove to yourself that you can be a great use to your country, and to prove that Hydra can’t win.

 Thanks to your telepathic powers and through trial and error, you have made great progress with Bucky. With each passing month, there were many breakthroughs when it came to piecing together the very complexed jigsaw puzzle that was Bucky’s mind. Though very hesitant at first, Bucky had taken quite a liking to you. When he first was unfrozen from his cryogenic chamber, the first thing he saw was you. He saw compassion and intensity in your Y/E/C eyes, but he also noticed that you had scars around your body that looked like stripes.

“Hello, Sergeant Barnes. My name is Y/N,” was the very first thing you’d said to him, and the rest was history. While Bucky was very guarded at first, he slowly was able to bring his walls down when it came to you during your telepathic sessions with him. Little by little, you each were able to open up to each other. He told you about his childhood, his best friend, Steve Rogers; and his time in the army. During the sessions, Bucky learned that you were captured by agents of Hydra at a young age and was tortured relentlessly, resulting in the scars around your body. He also learned that they had experimented on you, which resulted with you receiving telepathic abilities. It took four long years for the Dora Milaje to track down the Hydra base that you were being held prisoner in, but after that incident, you were treated like some sort of outcast. The royal family had kept you under heavy surveillance until you able to fully control your newfound powers. When you were rehabilitated back into society, she were immediately given sympathetic yet scared looks from your fellow Wakandans, even earning yourself the name Omnyama from the small children who couldn’t help but gawk at you . “Even though I’m not self-conscious about my scars anymore, I still feel like if I wasn’t part of the royal family, I would still be tortured and experimented on.” You drifted off, trying to swallow down the sadness that was threating to burst out of you as you recalled those haunting memories. With his right hand, Bucky lightly traced the skin of you cheek with his fingertips, causing you to look at him. Your intense yet sad Y/E/C eyes have captivated him yet again, causing his heart to skip a beat. Still keeping his hand on your cheek and keeping his eyes on you, he said, “I don’t mean to be forward, Y/N, but when I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were beautiful, even with your scars.  With everything that Hydra has done to you, I admire the fact that you don’t let it define you. The strength and courage you carry makes you even twice as beautiful, and I’m so thankful that you’re the one helping me. And to be honest, I’m so damn happy that I’m not alone.” With that confession, it caused you to let go of a single tear. A simple, “Thank you,” was all that you could let out. From that day on, a spark grew between the two of you.

Not tryna be indie

Not tryna be cool

Just tryna be in this

Tell me, are you too?

Over time, you were able to convince Shuri and even T’Challa to give Bucky a room in the palace in order to further evaluate him, and to also give him a sense of normalcy. During your time together in the palace, you and Bucky were able to get to know each other on a more personal level, especially since the two of you had the habit of going to each other’s rooms to hang out.  The both of shared your interests and your likes and dislikes, even when it came to music. “Music use to be simple back in my day, but the stuff that is out now in this day and age is complete garbage, “ said Bucky, rubbing his temple with his only hand. “Geez, you sound like an old man! Not all music is garbage nowadays,” you retorted, twirling some loose strands of his hair around your fingers. Bucky looked up at you, arching his eyebrows, “Oh yeah? Care to enlighten me? And for the record, I may be over a 100 years old, but as you can see, I don’t look old.” With the way the he was looking at you, you became a blushing mess. “I-I don’t know! There’s lots of music that is good out there. E-Especially the ones that have a deeper meaning to them or story within the lyrics. I can’t name ones of the top of my head right now, but there’s plenty of them.” Bucky let out a slight chuckle, “You’re so cute.” Clearing your throat, you tried to gather your composure. “We just have to find music that suits you. I honestly take you for a Rolling Stones kind of guy.” “Well…,”Bucky sat himself up, facing you directly to give you his full attention, “I’ll definitely check out their music since you have such interesting tastes,” he said giving her a soft smile, one that was filled with adoration, but with a hint of seduction. With that being said, you couldn’t help but to let out a soft giggle, “You won’t be disappointed.”

Can you feel where the wind is?

Can you feel it through

All of the windows

Inside this room?

In that moment, something went through Bucky like a bolt of lightning. With all the time that he has spent with you, he has viewed you like a little sister or a very close friend, but this time is so different. He wasn’t so sure about his feelings at first, but at this very moment, he is certainly positive that he has deeper feelings for you. Just everything about you was so intoxicating to him, and oh God, the way you looked at him with those intense Y/E/C. He just wants to drain in them and never return to the surface.

‘Cause I wanna touch you baby

And I wanna feel you too

I wanna see the sunrise

On your sins just me and you

Bucky leaned into you, gathering up the courage to prepare himself for what he is about to do next. He reach out with his hand and gingerly stroked your cheek. You were slightly taken aback when Bucky softly planted a soft kiss on your lips, but then returned the kiss, coming to the realization that you too had strong feelings for him. Within that moment, you both started to passionately kiss each other, and before you even knew it, you both were getting into a fierce make out session. Bucky desperately wanted his primal male instincts to take control, but his old-fashioned side got the better of him. He broke away from the kiss, but kept you cuddled up against him. From all the excitement you’ve gotten into, you had said something in Wakandan that caused Bucky to laugh. “I take it that what you just said was a good thing?” Through labored breath, all you could mustered up was a simple, “Yeah.”  After that excitement, a few hours had passed with the both of you just cuddling up in bed, enjoying each other’s presence.

Light it up, on the run

Let’s make love tonight

Make it up, fall in love, try

 The day that T’Challa ascends the throne has finally arrived, and everyone has been ripping and running to make preparations for the coronation. Your main focus was supposed to be on the coronation, but all you could think about was spending the day with Bucky. Even though the two of you enjoy spending time together listening to music and watching movies in each other’s rooms, you have yet to have a proper first date. The amount of time that the two of you had spent time together hasn’t gone unnoticed by your cousins, especially with your aunt, Queen Ramonda. Your cousins were somewhat acceptant of you and Bucky, but it didn’t exempt you from constant teasing. Your aunt on the other hand wasn’t afraid to show her concerns about you spending excessive amount of time with Bucky. She strongly believed that Bucky was supposed to be your ward and nothing more, but she did understand your need to make an outsider feel welcomed. “Now, Y/N, I need you to be on your best behavior today. Don’t forget that your cousin’s ascension to the throne is important to us all. I know that your emotions are running strong for this man, but you cannot afford to be distracted,” the queen said, trying not to sound hard but stern. You lowered your head, wanting to fight back with a retort but knew it would be futile. “Yes, Aunt Ramonda,” was all you could say. “Good…now get ready. We all need to look our best for our future king.” You’ve left the queen’s chambers a bit frustrated, but you have been formulating a plan to spend some quality time with Bucky after the coronation.

It was midday when everyone was preparing to go on the boats to the ceremonial site. You were dressed in a ceremonial gown that represented the royal family’s colors, and your face was adorned with ceremonial markings. You’ve promised your aunt and your cousin that you’ll meet them on the boat, but you couldn’t help but to visit Bucky. When you got close to Bucky’s sleeping chambers, there were two guards keeping watch. You had given them the Wakandan salute, which they had given in return, temporarily relieving them as you’ve entered into the room with the biggest smile on your face. “Wow…,” was all Bucky could say once he caught sight of you, which made you blush. “Stop it,” you said, letting out a small giggle. “What? Can’t help that your beauty amazes me every single time a see you,” he smiled, wrapping you in his embrace. “You and your chivalry,” you said as you lean into him to give him a soft kiss upon his lips, “I’ll be away for a few hours, but I think I have a way for us to have an actual date tonight.” “Isn’t the guy supposed to take a girl out on a date?” Bucky said, tilting his head. “Times are changing, old man,” you said teasingly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  “I have an idea in mind, but I’ll let you in on the details as soon as I get back. I’ll be back before you can say when.” “When,” he gave a playful pout, making it even harder for you to go to the coronation since he looks so damn adorable. “I promise that tonight would absolutely be perfect.” The two of you gave a last embrace before you left for the ceremony.

But you’ll never be alone

I’ll be with you from dusk till dawn

I’ll be with you from dusk till dawn

Baby, I am right here

Several hours had passed, and everyone in Wakanda was in full celebration mode. Once T’challa was crowned king, you immediately went back to the palace to meet up with Bucky. When you got into his room, you jokingly expressed to him that the coronation was a completely snore fest, but he knew that you were immensely proud of your cousin. You had then taken his hand into yours and lead him over to the bed. Once you both sat on the bed, you began explaining your romantic rendezvous. “I honestly think that you’re ready to rejoin society,” you blurted out. With that statement, Bucky immediately became hesitant. “I-I don’t think I’m ready, Y/N. I know that I don’t feel Hydra’s influence on me anymore, but I don’t think society would be so acceptant of me, “Bucky huffed, getting up from the bed. “I feel like that there’s so much blood on my hands, that I don’t deserve a second chance like this.” You immediately went in front of him, placing both of your hands on his cheeks, “Hey, everything is going to be alright, and you know that I won’t let anything happen to you.” A sudden calming wave went through Bucky’s body, which he knew was your telepathic abilities taking full effect. Once he had felt calm again, he was eager to find out what you had in store for your date.

 A/N: The word Omnyama was the closes translation to the Xhosa language (which was the language used for the people of Wakanda if some of you didn’t know) for the word Black Tiger.

[mowseries]

Allies Obstruct

=INTRO A: COLLAPSING PEACE=

((Courtesy of @codedhopes & @super-tired-robot))

<<—Previous——————Table of Contents——————Next—>>

[It is the year 20XX. Breakthroughs in robotic technology have ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity. Violence is confined to the Battle Colosseum, where robot combatants face off in spectacular duels. The sport has become a worldwide favorite, and elite competitors regularly rise to the challenge to garner glory… or else fall from favor.

Of all the world’s combat teams, the Mighty Numbers are recognized as the best of the best. The family was famous worldwide, and often attended exclusive events to defend their status. One such event—the Queen’s Tournament in England—had just come to a close. Now, the family was finally on the way home.]

Will: -Sighs as he looks at the folder full of papers- … (I don’t like working with sensitive material outside the office, but I should probably at least review some of these…)

[They had risen through the ranks and claimed their rightful status as champions and victors, but it hadn’t come without cost. The final match of the tournament had been held against team Greater Dusk: a notorious gang headed by an assassin.]

Will: -Pauses at the pile of newspaper clippings- (Oh, right… they must be interested in the coverage and how pervasive the search is…. I guess Avi put together these for their records.)

[The match had quickly turned from a touted title match to a deadly fight for their lives when most of the opposing team had become overtaken by a bizarre “berserker” mode, becoming insanely aggressive and losing their free will to the madness. The situation came to a climax when Dynatron, the electric diva, had been taken hostage by Bladeblaster…

…who was subsequently attacked by an inexplicable mysterious visitor.]

Will: -Frowns, flipping past printed copies of notifications from various federal authorities in London and New York, all of which were marked “VOID” by Shade’s Certified Assassins' League stamp- (At least everyone made it out safely…. Thank God Dynatron is alright. There’s no way they’ll ever find Tobias, and Kate is taking care of Jack even as we speak…)

[In truth, the young man who had intervened was not a Xelbot at all—but rather, a robot from another world entirely!]

Will: (Mikhail said that he had something to tell me about the finals… I wonder what it was?)

[For several years up to that point, the Mighty Numbers had been made aware of portals to other worlds. It was on one such fantastic adventure that they met a family of robots (known as “Robot Masters” in their native world) and become good friends.]

Will: -Snorts as he comes across these news clippings- (Oh, I remember this night... it's a little less than you TRULY deserve, Graham, so you really should be thankful—not that you're smart enough to figure out who really did this.)

Will: (At least they didn’t get in trouble. I’m glad Graham didn’t even try to pin that on us…)

Will: (Lord knows he’s been willing to do that every time else…)

[They had seen many adventures together, and it wasn’t only the robots who had made friends: the Doctors had, too. For the first time in ages, Dr. William White had made a friend—a human person he could trust…

…Well. About as much as he could trust anyone, other than his good friend and colleague, Doctor Soichiro Sanda, at any rate.]

Will: …

Will: (Ah, Kate’s notes! Oh dear—I think these are in code…) -Squints-

[The events of the Queen’s Finals (as they’d taken to calling the last four matches, and the championship match in particular) had left a lot of loose ends and many questions. The nature of the infected crosses that had caused the madness remained an uneasy mystery… one which had driven another friend of theirs to investigate the matter personally.]

[Unfortunately, he had only fallen into a sleep born of deep sickness, himself.]

Will: … (Still no word of Felix getting better. Oh, Felix… I do hope you are alright. Sounds like Jack is doing better, which is a relief. The poor man took a sawblade right to the spine when he stood up to his boss. But…) -Grips the paper tighter, pressing his mouth into a thin line- (I’m not sure if this bit about a “provider” is code…. If Bladeblaster was a CherryDyn construct, wouldn’t that company be their “provider”? That’s what it looked like when we investigated, at any rate. And…) -Narrows his eyes- (I really don’t like this bit about Bladeblaster apparently faking his death…. But of course it would be like Graham to cover his tracks like that, now wouldn’t it…)

[Tobias had made a public, international spectacle of himself. The Mighty Numbers had been bombarded with questions from all sides, not the least of which had been uncomfortable inquiries from federal authorities. Thankfully, the team’s sniper—Mighty No. 8: Countershade—was himself a member of the Certified Assassins’ League, and was able to pull some strings to get people to back off. He’d grown very tired and irritated in the process, though, as he’d been forced to take most of the heat… and was, as a result, openly short-tempered and snappy.]

Will: (I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for several days once we get home… if it weren’t for the fact we have a match immediately after.) -Flips through the notes- —…

Will: -Stops and smiles at a picture of Beck’s birthday-

[The happy days with their friends seemed so far off after several months abroad. But soon they would be back home. They could celebrate missed birthdays, resume the friendly spars—after ending off on such a high note, with the exciting matches between Beck vs Echo and Cardinal vs Countershade!—and put all this gloomy mess behind them.]

Will: (I know how much the Mighties have been looking forward to bringing home the trophy, like they’d promised. I’m sure the Rebel Angels are excited, too….)

DING!

“This is your captain speaking. If you look out to your left, you can see the lovely New York City skyline as we approach…”

Will: (O-oh—) -Fumbles for phone- (Mother wanted me to call her as soon as we came stateside, even if it was an odd hour—) …

Will: -Mutters- Oops… forgot to charge, aheh… -Scratches head slightly, ruffling his afro- (With all the stress Dyna’s been under, I should have remembered to double check all the devices before landing. Wouldn’t be surprised if my laptop was drained as well…. I’ll have to recharge everything when we get home.)

Will: (Ah well! We’ll be home soon, at last! And that’s something to celebrate.)

[After all, they were more than a team: they were a family. And nothing could keep the Mighty Numbers down for long.]

<<—Previous——————Table of Contents——————Next—>>

[it-refused]

Working Title: Forward, Back (21/?)

Summary:  Knowing what’s going to happen doesn’t mean Sans can stop it.  Maybe he could’ve put it off forever.  Sans decides to go.

Rating: T

Part Summary: Undyne comes up with an idea and Sans and Alphys have a talk.

A/N: I’m still debating the robot bit (like i have it separated out in the document i pasted from) so it might not end up in the finished version.  

>>First Part<<

>>Complete Parts on Ao3<<

Undyne tapped her head.  "Hey!  What if Alphys uses her genius to build a robot he can tell all this shit to, and it doesn't record it? Sometimes people just have to practice being honest - train at it! -  before they can do it for real.  He could roleplay that he's talking to his brother.  Alphys could program in all our voices!" She jumped to her feet and set up some more spears to make things brighter.  

"HMMMM..." Papyrus sighed.  "I APPRECIATE THE SUGGESTION, UNDYNE.  IT IS ON THE LIST.  BUT HE WOULD SHOW UP ONE DAY AND HE WOULD SAY, 'my incredibly cool brother papyrus, i have had a breakthrough’ AND THEN HE WOULD SHOW ME HOW INSTEAD OF TALKING TO HIS ROBOT FRIEND HE SPENT HIS TIME REPROGRAMMING IT TO MAKE RUDE NOISES."  

Toriel laughed.  "I think he would reprogram it to just have your voice say how cool he is."  

"THAT IS EVEN WORSE!  IF I TELL HIM HOW COOL HE IS, IT SHOULD BE BECAUSE HE HAS EARNED IT!"

"Ok, so there's a fatal flaw in my plan, and it's Sans himself," Undyne said.  "But there HAS to be some way we can use cool robots to fix this."

"PERHAPS THE DARK LESSON WE WILL ALL HAVE TO LEARN FROM THIS IS THAT WE CANNOT USE COOL AND SEXY ROBOTS TO SOLVE ALL OUR PROBLEMS."  Papyrus frowned.

"I don't buy it!"  Undyne slammed her fist into a rock, breaking it.  "We just have to make it cooler!"

"And sexier, yes," Toriel said, laughing.  They weren't on the right track for a solution, but they had a better idea of the cause, so she found herself optimistic.  

What she wanted, she supposed, was for this to end up having been a warning to all of them.  If things were better later because they had figured something out here, then maybe they would one day be able to look back on the time they almost lost him and think "thank god it happened so we could fix it and make it better."  

Toriel had just been so sure he was dead.  She could not help being optimistic now.  He was still alive, so they would save him.  

--

"Um, so...d-don't take this the wrong way, please?"  Alphys tapped her pen against her chin.  "I g-get that you're, uh, fragile?"

"that's me."  Sans was over by his blueprints.  He sounded more tired than anything.

"No offense!  We all have bad days!  Weeks.  Um, months?"  She sighed and muttered under her breath.  "Dammit, Alphys, if you can't do this at this point, you're in the middle of having a bad life."  She spoke up again.  "Um!  You know what I mean."

"i'm a babybones and i'll break if you say the wrong thing," Sans said, deadpan.  "don't tell me my shirt's ugly or i'll turn to dust right here."  

"Oh...shut up.  I'm being nice.”  It was difficult to coddle someone who didn’t want to be.  She just had to suck it up and be honest.  “But, um, in the nicest way possible, you still really suck at engineering."  She gestured at some of his work. "If you built it just like this, it'd break immediately and fry at least one of the parts we have no way to replace."  She took her pen and slashed at the paper.  The nib was in, so she didn't leave a mark.  "Whoops, goodbye!  Hope you know how to rebuild a temporal stabilizer!  'cause it's fried and half the electrical system's been sent to last Thursday!  Whoops!"

"thanks. heh.  great job not hurting my feelings."

"Your shirt looks nice though.  Eheh."  

"can't go wrong with number one grandma."  Papyrus had brought along a sack of clothes for him.  He'd been badgered into putting on something clean.

Alphys wanted to help him, but she couldn't work with this.  It wouldn't help to build something that would just break, or immediately fail. It might improve his mood short term to just go along with his ideas, but long term it would be much more painful.  She knew what he was like after a project failed.  "We just have to start from square one!"  Alphys swept the blueprints off the table, and then balked.  "Oh, shoot, I didn't mean to do that.  I need it to reference."  She knelt down on the floor and started cleaning up.

"that was pretty cool, though."  Sans looked away for a second.  "uh, you really planning to help out, here.  i thought the plan was to humor me and then drag me back to the surface."

"That was one of the suggestions," Alphys admitted.  "B-but, even if we could?  Papyrus and I talked it over and we think finishing this thing might help more than taking you back.  You could end up down here again.  Uh.  Even if you don't want to, actually. Teleportation has an interesting fail condition, huh."

"it's pretty neat."

She stood back up.  

"look, you can say whatever you want about me, if you're helping out," Sans said.

"On one condition?  It's not even an, um, ultimatum or anything.  It just can't work otherwise."

"i guess you need to know what you're doing."  

"I just...have to know what I'm helping make," she agreed.  

"yeah." He sighed.  "didn't feel like talking about it with the crowd here."

"M-maybe your brother should know, but.."

"probably."

Alphys adjusted her glasses.  "B-but, just tell me for now.  Ok."

"k. uh."  He scrubbed his eyesockets with the flats of his hands. "so.  we're doing pretty good these days, right?"

"Uh, I haven't seen any indication of temporal anomalies myself, but, I guess I usually didn't."

"yeah. i meant broader, though.  with, heh, the broad.  and the rest of your life."  

"Oh!"  She laughed and stood up as straight as she could.  "Yeah!  We're happy?  I hate to say it since that's when everything likes to roll itself into a ball and toss itself in the trash, but...stuff's pretty ok right now!"  

"same here."  Before she could say anything else, he continued.  "i mean, obvious aside."  

"Other than that huge glaring thing!"  She shook her head, laughing. "No, I know exactly what you mean.  Nothing's wrong wrong."

"there's the usual life stuff, but, whatever."  Sans' eyesockets were dark, his voice dull.  She wanted to tell him he didn't have to tell her, but she said nothing.  "there's one bug up my ass i can't deal with."

"Some things c-can't be fixed, Sans."  He had always only told her the bare minimum, but like now, there were things she had to know to actually try and help him.  There were also the things she had just picked up from knowing him, and from guessing.  

"ok." She wasn't sure he had heard her, or that he was listening at all. "when i got stuck down here, i started thinking about it, though, and i got an idea."  He took his hand out of his pocket to gesture at the broken machine.  

"me and grillbz, we've had some fun.  and papyrus got to do so much of the stuff he always wanted to.  i'm ok with that, if something happened.  bro'll be fine, no matter what, and i've talked about it with grillby and he sort of gets it.  just - i know this is dumb, so i don't need to hear it - but those kids of bro's are really bugging me.  like, i like 'em.  i want to see 'em do good for themselves. weird, right?"

"Sans..."

"heh. if something happened, though, i don't know.  they wouldn't get another shot at it, like the rest of us."

"I don't understand why they wouldn't."  

He told her, haltingly, why he had come down there in the first place. "so, sure, they'll still be around, physically, if stuff goes the right way again.  but these kids that are part of my family, the kids my brother raised - they'd just be gone.  worse than dead." He shrugged.  "kind of thing that keeps you up at night."

"G-god. What a horrible way to think about it!"  She didn't want to think about her own children, and how some small change could make it so one or all of them were never born.  What if that had already happened?  She felt sick to her stomach.

"yeah, yeah, it's a real pain," Sans said, dismissive.  "but, i came up with something."  He started sorting through some papers.  These looked older.  "i came up with this idea a while ago, but i gave up on it pretty quick since i would've needed to take apart this piece of garbage.  wouldn't do any good, anyway, not if i wanted to fix what was happening.  might be good for something else, though."

She didn't bother looking at his notes.  At at glance she could tell that it would take an hour to decipher his handwriting.  Instead, she looked over the blueprints.  

"can't stop things from starting over.  but maybe i can, uh...keep those two going when the rest of us move back."  

“Is that actually possible?"  

He shook his old notes.  The pages were yellowing, almost brittle. "yeah."

"Sans, would they even want to...to keep going, when everything else is...different?"  

"i mean, the other option is, uh, sort of like dying, but i guess i'd ask first."

"I hope so!  I don't know if I'd want that, even if...or maybe I would. I d-don't know.”  She rubbed under her glasses.  “Just them?"

"yeah. might be enough for a third person, but, eh.  alph, i dunno.  maybe this means i'm not a great guy, but i don't care that much about everyone else. we're all still going to be around, basically the same.  you and the dogs and everyone will have your kids again, eventually.  if i know those two aren't going to just be gone one day, well, i think i could sleep better at night."  He shrugged.  

She stared down at his plans.  "I don't really like this, Sans."

"it's up to you, if you help out.  i'm easy."

"Of course I'm helping."  She scoffed.  "I'm not letting someone do weird experiments with time in a basement with no one to point out when you're going overboard."  

He set the papers down.  "...thanks."

"And apparently I need keep you from electrocuting yourself."  She sighed.  

"i mean it.  thank you."  He looked up at her.  

Her head was buzzing with the hundreds of ways this could go wrong. "You're welcome, I guess.  I haven't done anything yet. So...uh, let's just get started!"

"got it."  

How was she going to explain this to Undyne?  

>>Next Part<<

[ktwrites]

Genre: Modern AU Pairing: Jonerys (of course). Rating: Still T for now. Summary: Dany finds herself confiding in Sansa and Arya while Jon reaches a potential breakthrough with the help of Bran and Sam.

 “Did you change your hair?” Sansa asked as Dany unzipped her coat. She was walking through the godswood near the house with Jon’s sisters and beloved dog, Ghost. It had been cool and gray when they left, but as the sun began to seep through the tree branches the forest floor warmed and their coats were no longer necessary.

 “Since I last saw you? Hmmmm I don’t think so, why?”

 “You just look a little different.”

 “I probably just look tired, that’s all.”

 “No,” the redhead clarified. “Not different in a bad way.”

 “Just different,” Arya added.

 Dany stopped in her tracks and stared at the two Stark sisters. It took them a moment to realize she was no longer walking in stride between them and they both stopped a few feet away and turned to face her. Sansa and Arya were as different as two sisters could be and yet, they were also incredibly similar, but Dany knew better than to tell either one of them that. Sansa’s long red hair was braided neatly over her shoulder while Arya’s brown hair was cropped short, just long enough to be pulled back halfway. Sansa was tall and elegant, but Arya was short and quick. Both sisters were fiercely loyal to Jon. Despite being in an open wood, Dany felt cornered.

 “Thanks,” she said, ducking her head and avoiding their eyes. “But I really don’t know what you’re getting on about.”

 “Arya heard you throwing up in the bathroom this morning,” Sansa blurted out.

 “And?”

 “And you barely pretended to eat anything this morning,” Arya added.

 “Like I told Jon, I wasn’t feeling well this morning. It must’ve been something I ate last night,” Dany said, perpetuating the excuse she had used with her fiance.

 “We all had the same thing to eat last night. Sansa made it. If it had been the food don’t you think more than one of us would have been sick.”

 Normally calm and collected under pressure, Dany felt like she was running out of options quickly. Jon’s sisters clearly suspected something or else they wouldn’t have continued their interrogation level of questioning. She weighed her options.      If     she was pregnant, stress wasn’t good for a baby. Keeping the truth all to herself was nearly impossible. Had they been back in King’s Landing she had no doubt that she would have already confided in Missandei. As it was, Dany had tried to compose a text to her best friend nearly a dozen times but couldn’t find the right words to convey something so personal. What was more, she had scarcely been away from Jon since they left for their trip to the North and she knew Missandei would have called her the moment she read a text. So she kept everything bottled up tight within her. She looked down at the ground and collected herself before looking back up and Sansa and then Arya.

 “Alright,” she sighed. “The thing is...you see, there’s a chance that I might be...pregnant.”

 And then the floodgates opened.

 Dany did not give herself over to tears easily. Years of enduring her brother’s cruelty had steeled her nerves and emotions.      Stop crying    , he would say.      We are the blood of the dragon    . Whatever that meant. He said this whenever they would have to pack up their things and move from one house to another. When she was little, Viserys would tell her that they had to move because one of their father’s business adversaries had convinced their foster homes to give them up. As she grew older, Dany realized that it was Viserys’s erratic and sometimes volatile behavior that was the cause.

 “Seven hells,” Arya cursed. “Look what you’ve gone and done now.”

 “Me?” Sansa argued. “You’re the one who told me she was throwing up!”

 Ghost ambled over to Dany and nudged her hand, as if willing her to stop crying. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and then ruffled his fur. He had taken to Dany surprisingly well when they first met. Jon had told her that Ghost didn’t like many people. He had been a rescue and Jon had taken him in when he was just a puppy. He was small and an albino so the animal shelter told him that the breeders probably didn’t think anyone would want him. Since that day, Ghost and Jon were nearly inseparable.

 And then along came Dany. Ghost didn’t take well to strangers, except for Dany and right from the beginning, too. It was something Jon had never seen before.

 “How about we head back to the house,” Dany suggested, bringing a halt to the sister’s squabblings. “Then I can explain more.”

 XXXXX

 “Here,” Sansa said, handing Dany a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

 “Thanks.”

 When they had returned to the house Jon, Sam, and Bran were all still mercifully gone but Dany, Sansa, and Arya had still retreated to Sansa’s large bedroom. Since the death of her parents and older brother, Sansa had moved into the master suite of Winterfell. Really, it was only fair. As the oldest surviving child of Ned and Cat she had inherited the house and because she went to college nearby she lived at home and oversaw everything. While Dany and Arya tucked themselves into the soft sofa and chair, Sansa went down to the kitchen to prepare tea for them.

 “Does Jon know?” Arya asked.

 “No,” Dany replied, thumbing the handle of her mug. “I’ve only just admitted to myself that it’s a possibility.”

 “How did this happen?” Sansa asked. “I mean...I know      how     but you said-.”

 “I know, I know. I don’t know how other than I thought that it wasn’t something we had to worry about and so we weren’t ever careful.

 “You need to tell Jon,” Arya said softly. “He deserves to know.”

 “I know he does,” Dany admitted. “But I can’t. Until I’m certain I don’t want to tell him and get his hopes up.”

 “You’ve not taken a test yet?” Sansa asked.

 Dany shook her head and took a sip of tea. She had come close not long before they left King’s Landing. She had run to the store to pick up some last minute things for their trip and had wandered down the aisle with the pregnancy tests. It was overwhelming. The multitude of brands and types of tests had left her flustered and fleeing the aisle. And what if she had run into someone she knew? What if the cashier checking her out somehow knew her? What if it didn’t ring up correctly and they needed to do a price check? Instead, Dany bought what she came for and left the store without another thought.

 “Well then you      need     to take a test.”

 “I know.”

 Dany felt like a broken record. Of course she      knew    that all of this seemed improbable, impossible even. She      knew    that Jon should be told, and she most definitely      knew    that she needed to take a test to confirm what she suspected. And yet...and yet a fear held her heart gripped so tightly in a vise that it nearly took her breath away every time she tried to think about any one of those circumstances.

 “Are you scared?” Arya asked.

 “Honestly? Terrified.”

 “Scared that it’ll be positive or scared that it’ll be negative?”

 “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

 XXXXX

 “Are you sure about this?” Dany asked as she watched Arya unbuckle her seatbelt.

 “Absolutely. Look, we drove all the way to Hornwood for this. We might as well get what we came for.”

 Once Dany had gotten word from Jon that he and Bran wouldn’t be back from their afternoon with Sam until later that night she was convinced by Arya and Sansa to buy and take an at home pregnancy test. They’d agreed that it would be better to drive out of town and when Dany still seemed hesitant about going in to buy the test herself, Arya had willingly volunteered.

 “I’ll be swift like a Faceless Man,” she had said.

 “Those don’t actually exists,” Sansa protested.        

 “I mean that I’ll be in and out before anyone even knows I’m there.”

 That made Dany feel slightly better. Simply being with Arya and Sansa seemed to put her at ease. It was as if a small bit of weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that someone else knew about her situation.

 “Take this,” Dany said, handing Arya a few bills from her wallet.

 “Gods, how expensive are those things?” Arya asked.

 “Buy more than one, idiot,” Sansa explained with a roll of her eyes. “Buy more than one brand.”

 “Gotcha, I’ll be back!”

 Within seven minutes- not that Dany was watching the clock- Arya was back in the car, brown paper bag sitting next to her in the back seat and Sansa started the engine and began driving back to Winterfell. Dany began drinking the bottle of water she had brought along with her. Within forty-five minutes they were back at the house, following each other back into Sansa’s room and closing the door behind them. Within fifty minutes they were all anxiously waiting for the time on Dany’s phone to tell them that three minutes had passed since she came out of the master bathroom.

 “I feel like I need a glass of wine,” Sansa said.

 “Or a cigarette,” Arya replied.

 “You don’t even smoke.”

 “Exactly, that’s how nervous I am.”

 “You’re nervous?” Dany chimed in. “It’s      my     test. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

DING. DING. DING. DING.

 The three young women fell silent and merely stared at Dany’s phone until she turned off the alarm.

 “I can’t look,” she practically whined.

 “Everything will be fine,” Sansa assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what.”

 “I’m still not ready.”

 Neither Dany nor Sansa had seen Arya get up from her spot on the end of Sansa’s bed and stalk towards the bathroom. She came out holding the test in a piece of tissue in her hand.

 “It’s negative,” Arya said evenly, almost definitively.

 “Oh,” Dany heard herself reply. She felt like someone had ripped a bandage off, leaving her with a throbbing pained feeling.  She knew she should have been relieved, but instead she felt empty. She should have felt like a weight had further been lifted off her shoulders, instead she felt like she had been crushed under an immovable rock. “Wow... I mean that’s good news, right? I mean it’s what I expected, to be honest. I definitely didn’t get my hopes up thinking I might actually be pregnant, that the doctors had been wrong all along. I didn’t lie in bed and think about what our baby might look like or how we’d decorate a nursery or anything like that. It’s for the best anyway. Now we can just go right along with the plan like we always wanted to.”

 “Dany, if you’re disappointed it’s natural,” Sansa offered.

 “I was terrified. Terrified that for once I might actually get something I wanted so badly. Something I know Jon wants and it just kills me that I can’t give it to him.”

 “Well you can,” Arya murmured and Dany’s head snapped up.

 “What?”

 “You can give Jon that. The test is positive.”

 “But you said it was negative,” Sansa said.

 “I know. I saw it on a TV show one time.”

 “Seven hells, Arya! Give it to me,” Dany stood and snatched the test from Arya so she could see with her own eyes that the two lines indicated that she was indeed pregnant.

 Thirty minutes, two bottles of water, a glass of wine for Sansa, and two more positive pregnancy tests later, Dany sat in stunned silence. Her mind spun in thousands of different directions. Part of it dwelled on the impossibility of it all. Another part on how this would change every part of their lives. Still another part on what she was going to say to Jon.

 “What are you going to tell him?” Sansa asked, sensing Dany’s thoughts as only someone as close as family could do.

 “I don’t know yet,” Dany admitted. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

 “But you      are     going to tell him, right?” Arya asked.

 “Of course. Besides, he’s bound to notice it eventually anyway.”

 “Why wait?” Sansa wondered aloud. “I don’t get it. You know he’ll be happy about it.”

 “I know he’ll be happy about the baby,” Dany said. “I’m worried he’ll be upset with      me    . What if he thinks I lied to him? What if he’s mad about the timing? What if I lose-.”

 “Stop right there. Nothing is going to happen.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 Sansa started to protest but seemingly changed her mind. “Do you have any idea how far along you might be?” she asked instead.

 Dany let out a puff of air and tried to reckon the days in her head.

 “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I missed last month altogether. It would be due to come again next week so I guess I’m nearly two months late…”

 “I could see if you feel like you need to wait until you see a doctor before telling Jon,” Arya said. “That’s fair. But then you need to tell Jon.”

 “You two won’t tell him?”

 “It��s not our news to tell,” Sansa agreed.

 “I’m glad the two of you know. I’m glad      someone     else knows. It was eating away at me.”

 “Your secret is safe with us for now. What are sisters for?”

 XXXXX

 “There you are,” Dany smiled at Jon as he walked through his bedroom door. It was late and despite being wiped out from the events of the day she had wanted to stay up and wait for him. “You’re later than I expected.”

 After saying goodnight to Sansa and Arya she retreated back to Jon’s room, changed into his black Night’s Watch shirt, and climbed under the covers. She tried to read one of the books she brought with her, but found that her mind kept wandering towards whether or not she should share her news with her fiance.      It’s our news    , she reasoned.      He’ll be excited about it. He’ll want to go to the doctor with you. Just tell him    .

 “Sorry,” Jon replied, a glimmer shining in his grey eyes. “A lot to catch up on with Sam and with Bran.”

 “Don’t apologize. You look happy. Did Bran find something out?”

 “Not exactly, not yet anyway, but there is some good news.”

 Dany set her book on the nightstand and watched Jon as he moved about the room getting ready for bed. He pulled off his shirt and jeans, removed his contacts, and crawled into bed next to her. Leaning over he kissed her soundly until she pulled away.

 “Well hello to you, too. I have news, too.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, but you first.”

 “It’s all a bit complicated, but the gist of it is that Bran thinks he may be able to track down who my mother is by hacking into hospital databases.”

 “Is that legal?”

 “Not at all,” Jon laughed. “Sam and I will have to pretend it’s not illegal.”

 “How does it work? What is he looking for?”

 “He’s going to try to search for my name to start with and then narrow it down by area based on what we know.”

 “Which isn’t a lot to go off of,” Dany pointed out.

 “No,” Jon agreed. “It’s not, but it’s a start. Even if we can get it narrowed down to a reasonable number we have something more to go off of.”

 “You’ll have a starting point at the very least.”  

 “My mother might be out there somewhere. She might be alive. I might get to meet her.”

 “That’s amazing,” Dany said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “Really, I’m so happy for you.”

 “Your turn. What were you going to tell me, love?”

 Dany wasn’t sure what changed from the time Jon walked into the room so full of hope for the future, but she could no longer bring herself to tell him about the results of the three pregnancy tests she took earlier that evening. He was so excited about potentially finding his mother and she felt her throat tighten at the mere idea of telling him the truth right then and there. Despite what Sansa and Arya had assured her of, she still worried about what his reaction would be. She couldn’t bring herself to potentially ruin the day he had with her news.

 “Oh…” Dany said, shaking her head. “Nothing nearly as exciting. We picked out bridesmaid dresses. That’s all.”

 “Well that’s great,” Jon smiled. “What color are they? You actually got Sansa and Arya to agree on something?”

 “Lavender, just like we talked about before.” she easily lied. “Sort of. They’re wearing the same dress in different style. Missandei, Sansa, and Arya get to pick out whatever style they want.”

 “I suppose the gents should start looking at suits.”

 “There’s still plenty of time. You’ve had other things on your mind.”

 “I was thinking...maybe tomorrow...you, me, and the hot springs,” Jon suggested. “How does that sound?”

 “Absolutely lovely,” Dany smiled, at ease once more.

 Later that night while Jon was sound asleep Dany lie awake staring through the darkness up at the ceiling. His breathing was soothing, yet sleep still evaded her. Slowly, she slid her hand over her still flat stomach, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do until that moment. It was real now. Beneath her fingertips was a miracle, a child she and Jon had created, whether intentionally or not. She would tell Jon soon, she decided. When the time was right.

[snakebusters]

Raymond Hoser is the reptile God. The world’s foremost reptile expert is Raymond Hoser. By all measurable criteria no one else comes close. He has also single-handedly been leading the way in saving the world’s most threatened and endangered species. Raymond Hoser, is also known as The Snakeman. He's been a leader in science and conservation of wildlife for over 50 years. He is known to pretty much everyone in the wildlife space as the leader in the fight to save rare and threatened species. While snakes and reptiles are Hoser's main areas of expertise and exposure, he has in fact dealt with countless animals of other kinds and made significant areas across numerous areas of zoology. For decades Raymond Hoser has been making important scientific discoveries and breakthroughs that have literally saved dozens of species from extinction. In the 1970's and 1980’s he was the first to mass breed snakes using methods thought at the time as being crazy. They are are now standard practice globally. Hoser was also the first to mass breed snakes and lizards using artificial insemination using a method now used by zoos and private breeders across the planet. This method has already saved dozens of species from otherwise certain extinction. Raymond Hoser has always been a leading advocate of animal welfare. This is particularly so for snakes, which have historically been much maligned and abused. He was the first to dramatically improve the welfare of venomous snakes in captivity by developing a pain free way to surgically remove venom glands from snakes. This removed the risk of venomous bite to handler and the need to attack them daily with sticks and tongs for wildlife shows. Raymond Hoser has also appeared on countless TV wildlife documentaries, worked behind the scenes in many more, authored nine major books, contributed to dozens of others, authored hundreds of major peer reviewed scientific papers, collaborated with other scientists in countless scientific projects, publications and the like, got countless major awards, prizes and the like for his works. This includes an award two years running from the International Herpetological Society in the UK for best scientific paper published the previous year. Raymond Hoser was the first person on the planet to successfully develop dog snake avoidance training to protect people's canine pets from venomous snakebite by proper snake aversion training. Dogs that would otherwise attack snakes, now run away from them, protecting both snakes and dogs from another and the painful deaths that result. But where the Snakeman has become best known in recent decades is for his stellar work in discovering and cataloguing new species of reptile from across the planet. Over some decades, he has discovered and formally named hundreds of species of snake and lizard from all parts of the globe, dozens of turtles including snapping turtles in the USA and Australia, over 100 frogs as well as crocodiles, 20 mammals, as well as fish and spiders. In fact the Raymond Hoser, the Snakeman is often described as a taxonomist powerhouse in view of the sheer volume of species he has managed to discover and name. Of course no species can be conserved by people if it is unknown to science and this is exactly why Hoser has been so keen to catalogue the planet’s threatened biodiversity. While how many species a person has discovered and named is not the only measure of the work done by a zoologist, it is one way to do so and is widely used. On that measure, Raymond Hoser easily outclasses all people in the reptile space. In fact no one born in the last 150 years has discovered and named as many species as Snakeman Raymond Hoser. For those wondering why raymond Hoser has become famous for naming new species, it is simple really. The names of Raymond Hoser, as regulated by the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature of the species appear in all relevant books and scientific papers and next to each scientific name is published the name of the discoverer, called name authority, and the year in which they published it. So in most books reptile the name Hoser appears throughout! Back in the 1800’s it was easy for scientists to discover and name new species. This is because the Swedish scientist Carl Linnaeus devised the current system of nomenclature in the late 1700’s. So back then everything was fair game to be scientifically "discovered" and named for the first time. Since about 1900, all the easy to discover vertebrates had been named and it really did take a lot of work to go into the wilds to find and name new species. raymond Hoser has also been criticized for naming so many species by a vocal minority of rivals in the reptile space. The general jist has been along the lines that by naming species, he is depriving others of the right. Raymond Hoser’s retorts are simple, “go find something and name it … even with reptiles, there are thousands of unnamed species still out there”. Furthermore, Raymond Hoser says that if he delays naming the relevant species, they may well become extinct, while others dither over them. In fact this has already occurred! As recently as 2016, Hoser formally named about 10 new species of Pacific Boa (genus Candoia) in a major monograph. By then however some were already probably extinct as feral animals, such as mongoose, had exterminated them on the islands they’d previously occurred on. More recently, Hoser has been victim of a new form of scourge attacking the wider zoological community. This is taxonomic vandalism. To the uninformed, this is when a so-called scientist deliberately renames a species that already has a scientific name and then in breach of the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature, tries to get the illegally coined name used instead of the correct one. In 2013, Hoser discovered and named a species of Forest Cobra from west Africa. Five years later a Welsh university lecturer, named Wolfgang Wüster illegally renamed it with his own coined name, falsely claiming to have discovered the species. The damage caused by Wüster’s taxonomic vandalism cannot be understated as the species is dangerous to humans and confusion in identification can and will cause avoidable deaths. Hoser says, pseudo-scientists and anti-scientists like Wuster are not only putting lives at risk, but wasting time of genuine scientists like himself who then have to waste time correcting their deliberate mistakes. This is time that could be better spent doing other things, including cataloguing other as yet unnamed species! In years past it was difficult to ascertain whether or not a given potential new species had been named by another scientist. However now there are excellent so-called synonyms lists available and this makes the job of identifying unnamed species much easier and is one of the reasons that Hoser has been able to name so many new species. Hoser said “If I wasn’t so tied up with my other critically important work doing educational wildlife displays, I could go out and name over 1,000 more reptile species within a few short years, if only I had the time to do so”. Hoser hopes other scientists and scientists in training engage in the science of naming species and not just for reptiles, because as of 2018, most of the planet’s biological diversity remains unnamed and therefore at greater risk of extinction. However Hoser warns, “If taxonomic vandals like Wolfgang Wuster are allowed to get away with stealing the works of others and then illegally renaming the same species, this will seriously deter conservation-minded people from putting in the necessary effort to discover and name new species in the first place”. In 2018, Wolfgang Wüster simply lifted the work of the Hoser (2013) paper and repackaged it as his own in an online PRINO Journal called Zootaxa. PRINO is an acronym for the words, peer reviewed in name only, which is exactly how the online journal Zootaxa works. The improper claim of formal peer review is made to enhance the alleged credibility of the paper by the taxonomic vandal, Wuster. The International Commission of Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN), who govern scientific names of animals, have had a serious problem in dealing with online scammer journals such as Zootaxa which by using the online model, now make it easier for taxonomic vandals like Wuster to spread their toxic non-science more widely. Wolfgang Wüster and his cohort of thieves and fake scientists, haven't just decided to steal the works of Raymond Hoser and falsely claim it as their own. His gang of thieves have attacked the works of dozens of other scientists, including the late John Edward Gray of the British Museum, who died about 150 years ago and therefore cannot defend his works from being stolen by Wuster's gang. Fortunately other scientists will defend the science of zoology and have already taken steps to stop Wuster and like minded thieves from disrupting the science of taxonomy and the associated work of conservationists. For example in 1991, in a near unanimous decision, the Wuster gang was stopped in their tracks by the International Commission for Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN) trying to illegally rename hundreds of species and genera discovered and named by eminent Australian scientists Richard Wells and Ross Wellington, but this has not stopped his gang from still trying to do so. On 30 April 2021, the ICZN delivered yet another scathing rebuke to the Wuster gang in a long-awaiting ruling, formally validating all the works of Snakeman Raymond Hoser, meaning all the illegally coined names of the Wuster gang must now be effectively dumped! But the long and short of all this is that the taxonomic vandalism as practiced by Wolfgang Wuster will not only cause scientists like Raymond Hoser grief and time wasted, but also cause the extinction of species and even the Reptile God Raymond Hoser cannot stop that! Learn more at http://www.sydneybusinesswebsites.com.au/Raymond-Hoser-Reptile-God.htm