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drsonnet · 6 months ago

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"Today, in this upside-down world, we feverishly await the final vote in the U.N. General Assembly on the genocide in Srebrenica, while Gaza has been destroyed, and its people starved and denied water." (Illustration by Erhan Yalvaç)

Of villains, heroes and the final act

Of villains, heroes and the final act | Opinion (archive.org)

BY FARHAN MUJAHID CHAK - MAY 14, 2024

A UNGA resolution condemning the Srebrenica genocide is developed by countries like Germany and the U.S., despite their complicity in the ongoing genocide in Gaza by supporting Israel

Ino longer believe in fairy tales, although I once did.

Raised with ideals of sacredness in life, I was taught to honor the sanctity of humanity, to champion international law, and to cherish freedom of speech as the cornerstone of societal progress. I believe the Geneva Conventions were a manifestation of our collective conscience that mandated the rules of war and held nations to account. Women and children; hospitals and schools; the elderly and infirm were inviolable. I was taught that "peaceful protest" was the quintessential liberty of a sophisticated society that understood the relationship between civic activism, social change and progress. I listened, attentively, to the lofty rhetoric and was enthralled. I would utter high-sounding words on democracy, equality and freedom, and those grand glutinous words stuck to my teeth. I was – in a way, smitten.

Head-over-heels over values that deeply resonated in me, yet I slowly became disillusioned. It became evident those hollow words were never meant to be believed, only used to establish authority and reproach others with their inhumanity. Justice was not blind, and race, color and creed mattered in the application of the law. It is in this troubled context that the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) will vote on whether to declare July 11 "The International Day of Reflection and Remembrance of the 1995 Srebrenica Genocide." The complex intersection of the ongoing genocide in Palestine, the war on students and free speech on university campuses across the United States, Canada and Europe, and the former genocide in Srebrenica deserves closer scrutiny. The U.N. vote on the Bosnian genocide could not come at a more condemnable moment in world history.

On May 1, after considerable delay, a draft U.N. resolution on the Srebrenica genocide was submitted to the president of the 193-member U.N. General Assembly. Recall that in 1995, the town of Srebrenica was a U.N.-declared safe zone promised protection by a U.N. Dutch force. Dozens of able-bodied Muslim men in the town were asked to disarm, which they did. Despite that, fanatical Serb forces overran the safe zone and murdered 8,372 Muslim men and boys. Such is the perverse reality of the world we live in, that a U.N.-mandated safe haven, supposedly protected by U.N. forces, was invaded by terrorist Serb forces and a genocide ensued under their watch.

Bizarre irony

Now, a UNGA resolution on the Srebrenica genocide, partially modeled on a similar resolution for Rwanda, has been developed by several countries including Germany and the U.S. Absurdly, both are collaborators in the genocide currently underway in Gaza by direct military, economic and diplomatic support for Israel. This is the bizarre irony of being complicit in an ongoing genocide and putting forth a U.N. Resolution condemning the same.

What is the point of passing a resolution on genocide and turning a blind eye to one going on for the whole world to see? Sadly, villains need masks and no better cover than virtue. It is politics, not ethics, that is driving the U.N. Srebrenica vote. Of course, this does not diminish the necessity of it or the need to condemn the Srebrenica genocide and its denial. Still, the larger macro-level betrayal of the Geneva Conventions and International Human Rights Law by the U.S., U.K. and Germany is an indictment of the Western-led global order.

It is that outright duplicity, the sheer savagery of the genocide in Palestine, and the silencing of dissent that has provoked a whole generation of young people on campuses throughout the West. After all, they, too, were told stories about diversity, inclusion and pluralism. They were taught to condemn discrimination based on ethnicity, religion or gender. About equality before the law and the inviolability of non-combatants. They were raised to feel empowered and encouraged to peacefully organize and express their opinions. And, that society benefits when individuals exercise their civic duty. Now, they are witness to the flagrant disavowal of the moral archetypes that were instilled in them. They feel duped and are protesting, as heroes do, the enabling of genocide by their universities. Idealistic and courageous, they are sacrificing their education and careers to condemn the genocide in Palestine. Except rather than being celebrated, thousands of students have been beaten, harassed and arrested. Condemned for believing in the values that they were taught.

Now, we seem to be in the final act. One of impunity – if you will, in which we close our eyes to the genocide in Palestine, condemn students who protest it, and negotiate ways to commemorate a past genocide in Srebrenica – when ignoring it while it happened. Today, in this upside-down world, we feverishly await the final vote in the UNGA on the genocide in Srebrenica, while Gaza has been destroyed, and its people starved and denied water.

Yet, no matter the outcome of the resolution, it will not stop future genocides. Still, if nothing else, it will forever be a testament to the twisted dystopian reality in which we live and be a symbol of the urgent need for a new world order. Maybe, one faraway day, we can muster the will – for whatever purpose, and pass a U.N. resolution condemning it. Or name a highway after the martyrs. We will tell noble stories about those who were killed since it seems our twisted world only after their death feigns to honor them.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Professor of International Affairs, Visiting Research Faculty at Al Waleed Center for Muslim Christian Understanding at Georgetown University

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gentlethorns · 1 year ago

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i feel so good today actually. going on a house tour today, taking a double truck at work and KILLING IT, submitted some poetry yesterday (i only had the energy to submit one set to one magazine but that's something and that's better than nothing, maybe i'll submit another today). tomorrow i'll work on my application essay for one of my grad schools (the only app i haven't submitted yet). i'm getting ot this week and i'll have that extra money mostly to myself bc my christmas shopping is about done (maybe just a couple things for some friends depending on if we'll see them around the holidays or not and then stuff for my grandpa, which will mostly be snacks lol, and a few things for my bf's mom and sister), which means my portion of whatever deposit we have to pay for the place we end up getting will be covered. also gonna pay some extra on my credit card to get the balance down and hopefully raise my credit score a bit. listening to my manifestation playlist in the morning driving to work makes a huge difference actually 🫶

#she bork #turns out singing 'i'm full of ambition and verve i'm gonna get what i deserve' impacts me greatly who knew

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apollosson · 1 year ago

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05:37 | June 05, 2023 (Pasay, Philippines)

June started rough. Though I have sent almost half a hundred of resumes to every job applications sites possible, may it be Jobstreet or Indeed, I never received invites for the first few weeks. As an overthinker, it was mentally excruciating to juggle both possibility to either go back working at sea, which I never liked now, or swallow the pill of working back in a BPO company. In a nutshell, what I only had in mind was to either work in a casino or as a Cabin Crew - and if none of them worked out, then I guess I failed to do what I have planned all along since I was on board. However, that long wait seems to be a god-sent after all. It was just the time I needed to prepare myself.

Not long after my application with Newport World Resorts, I received an email from one of the three airlines I sent my application with. Qatar Airways and Cebu Pacific might have already filled their slots but I was luckily given a chance with Philippine Airlines. This must be the most important role I have applied for out of all my submitted job applications and only if I can overemphasize my willingness to the panel, I would send them videos of me spending hours researching about the position on every browsers possible.

When I arrived on my most awaited open-day with Philippine Airlines, I already expected the long line at 8am and just like my audition days with ABS-CBN's reality shows, it was a long-seating with new found friends. There were also about a thousand of hopefuls. The only difference is that, it is no longer a childish dream. It was serious to me, and it was evident that I did took it that way when the first stage commenced. They call it a Go-See. In a Go-See, we are given about 2-3 minutes to introduce ourselves while our teeth and skin are checked thoroughly. When it was my time, there were five of us. As the only male of the group, I took that advantage to outshine the girls I am with - and it showed when only two of us were asked to stay after the deliberation. Others were already asked to leave. I honestly thought that was it since it's already about 1pm, but we were formed into groups later on. Little by little some of the passers were asked to leave and wait for an update through email. Some assumed that they already had a second deliberation and probably declined a new set of applicants politely. And they were right! When my name was called, our group was asked to continue with the medical assessment. That's when I realized we are 75-80% less.

The third stage was just a quick medical assessment concerning BMI. This is where they compute both height and weight if normal or not. 60% of my preparation since seafarer days were focused on this very moment and I'm thankful that I did pass, but I am still half way through for today's application. Initial interview and Group dynamics are just some of the following stages that we still need to pass. I already felt exhausted, considering that it has been like a 12-hour application. The only might have kept me awake was my confidence. That was the only caffeine I had.

Since 2017, I am exposed with interviews. With that experience, most questions asked during my initial interview weren't really that new to me. Though some questions were situational, I'm glad I still had those in control. Eye-contact was probably the only negative note I got from my interviewee, which I am guilty of when thinking of an answer. Meanwhile, Group Dynamics is somehow alike to an initial interview but this requires the skill to control and humble yourself, letting others speak their thoughts about a topic. Both last two stages actually went well and after the last stage, everyone were asked to wait for an update via email. I was confident when I left the building. As manifested, I got my invitation for the final interview after 72 hours.

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lover-praxis · 2 years ago

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[11/54] 03.23.2023

the leather jacket didn't get a lot of love in the fall, when we had exclusively nice days or brutal days with no in between. i've decided that the leather jacket will now be a spring accessory. sitting outside with coffee and a parfait listening to a playlist explicitly titled "cool girl playlist." not quite awake yet despite it being almost noon (having a cold is an absolute bitch), but i've got a coffee and intermittent sunshine, so we'll manage.

spending time after class today at my favorite restaurant/cafe with free refills of drop coffee. submitted my grant application today, please manifest an acceptance, i need the money if i'm going to stay in the city over the summer. working on assignments for my history of public health class that i routinely neglect.

currently edging on 3am in the library. studying in a dark study room with someone who could be a lover, whom i am currently having a romantic crisis about. and who i am currently playing footsie with under the table.

biochem problem set and public health assignment turned in. light readings for a project for my queer studies class being done. signing off for tonight.

#countdown to summer #studyblr

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thewarriorpotato · 3 years ago

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Errand | 5/18/2021 | Tuesday

I run through many errands today. To summarize:

-->Encashed the check from the bank --> Went to coop to pay our for our first monthly payment as a coop member --> asked the coop about the status of the loan application (I hope they will work on it asap and approve it. My mom really needs it.) --> went to National Waterworks system to pay for the water - result: no bill posted yet. --> I was about to pay mom`s globe postpaid at gmall turns out no receipt produced. I resorted to paying it thru seven eleven --> I also do a quick tour at PSA to inquire but i was late. They no longer look for job applicants. I also left my face shield there. lol. --> went to hall of justice. Got my PDS notarized. --> Went to philhealth. Waiting time on Ome`s updated Philhealth ID. I forgot my CS certificate so I failed to pass my requirements. --> I took credit transaction quiz. I only watched the video attorney gave us. Atleast I submitted on time.

Forgot going to 1sr valley. Nevertheless, it was a productive day, i guess.

-------Abe-------

My sister noticed his sleep became rather long than quick and short. I checked on him while he sleeps. Heavy heart is an understatement feeling.

----- to myself------

I wanted to start doing Salah again. I need to find work and get hired. Catch up on my reading backlogs. Prepare job interview questions and related.

God, guide me. Universe, manifest. Conspire to my goals and dreams this year.

Hang on still. Hang on.

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years ago

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Lionheart

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki/Hado Nejire Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4.3k

Synopsis: On the day they met, Nejire told Tamaki he reminded her of an elf.

Now, as she glided in the air for her performance in the beauty pageant, Tamaki couldn’t help but think, Nejire is like an innocent fairy.

Tamaki has always had a faint heart when it comes to social situations, but when the perfect opportunity to convey his romantic sentiments to Nejire arises, he takes all the courage he can muster and confesses.

— Set during the U.A. School Festival Arc.

Tamaki has never liked crowds.

The presence of a large number of human beings in a definite space had a way of transforming his mind from organized to blank. If he had to say something to a companion or to an audience, more often than not, the words would die in his throat, and his frowning lips would tremble in a painful sensation called ‘awkwardness’. In the end, he wouldn’t be able to say anything correctly—or anything at all, for that matter. It was no secret that he avoided crowds as much as he could, however, today was an exception.

It was the day of the U.A. School Festival. Tamaki stood amidst the sea of people excited for the annual beauty pageant, feeling out of place but nevertheless, determined to support her, one of his dearest friends, Nejire. These days, with Mirio taking a break, his school days were spent mostly with Nejire alone. As they were in the same section, they saw each other in class and back in the dormitory, and being friends, they ate lunch and spent their breaks together. When Nejire submitted her entry for the beauty pageant, the preparation for the event took the majority of her free time. Along with their classmates, Tamaki was around during her practice sessions, witnessing her hard work and improvement. At times, hints of weariness marked her features, yet she never failed to wear a cheerful smile. As they walked side by side on the way back to the dormitory, she had a skip on her steps and chattered happily about anything and everything as usual. She remained energetic and bubbly, as though she wasn’t tired at all. It was one of the things he admired about her.

Beside him, Yuyu, Nejire’s best friend, observed the other girls vying for the crown with clenched fists. Class 1-B’s Kendo Itsuka was a strong competitor, having starred in a commercial with Pro Hero Uwabami. However, Nejire’s greatest rival would be Kenranzaki Bibimi, the girl who was aiming for her third win. Bibimi exuded flashiness in her performance, as everyone expected.

The crowd cheered when Nejire took the stage. The thought of standing in front of all these people and performing made Tamaki’s stomach churn. From afar, he gave her a thumbs-up, uncertain if any words of comfort would reach her but still managed to grit out, “Hado, people are just animals… Just think of them as mammals, and you’ll feel more relaxed.”

It turned out, Tamaki had nothing to worry about.

As the audience let out sounds of awe, Tamaki lifted his head and gazed at Nejire from below, entranced at the sight of her gliding in the air, creating an image of a rose with the use of her Quirk. All the while, she smiled and enjoyed the performance she spent weeks perfecting; effortlessly graceful and enchanting. To Tamaki, she looked like an innocent fairy, and he could almost imagine her butterfly wings sprouting from her back and fluttering as she moved.

She was beautiful.

The moment Nejire’s feet touched the ground, everyone clapped their hands and cheered louder than ever. After being crowned as the runner-up twice in the beauty pageant in the previous years, she shined brighter than anyone else this time.

Tamaki had no doubt that she would emerge as the winner later on, and with that thought, he smiled.

Tamaki would never forget the day he met Nejire.

It had been a sunny morning, but his mood couldn’t have been more opposite. Surrounded by fellow students admitted to Class 1-A, he wallowed in his gloomy thoughts, alone. Despite going through the application process and entrance exams with Mirio, the two of them were separated in the assignment of sections, a possibility which didn’t cross their minds when they began their journey to becoming heroes. Mirio laughed it off and said words of encouragement to Tamaki, but in truth, Tamaki thought Mirio gave him too much credit.

While his new classmates acquainted themselves, Tamaki sat quietly at the back. The seat next to his remained empty, and the view outside the window kept him company. Excited chatters of the possibilities the future would bring to the students who were part of the hero course filled the room. Unlike them, Tamaki dreaded his first day at U.A. High School, knowing that the nerves, the anxiety, and the memories of the time when he was a transferee in middle school would come back to him in full force. He sighed and buried his head on his desk, wondering how he was going to survive his stay in this school. Classes hadn’t begun yet, but he already wanted to go home.

The classroom door slid open, and a female voice chirped, “Good morning, everyone!”

A chorus of ‘good morning’ replied to the newcomer, but Tamaki paid them no mind. He shut his eyes and wondered if he had enough time for a nap to make up for the lack of sleep he experienced the night before; the mere thought of the awkwardness he was experiencing right now had been enough to keep him up for hours.

The sound of footsteps neared Tamaki and stopped in front of his desk. The newcomer patted his shoulder and said, “Hey, hey! Good morning! Are you okay? Are you feeling sick? I can accompany you to Recovery Girl if you’d like?”

Tamaki froze. There it was, the inescapable social interaction he had not been looking forward to. Slowly, he lifted his head and sat properly, rubbing his closed eyes with his fingers. “It’s nothing. I’m fine…”

“I see! That’s good to hear. What’s your name? I’m Hado Nejire, by the way!”

He blinked, his vision coming into focus and registering the curious eyes gazing at him. Every second passing led to the heat creeping up his cheeks to grow more intensely. The girl in front of him was clutching the handle of her school bag, her long hair neatly styled. Even from a considerable distance, Tamaki got a whiff of the jasmine-scented perfume she used.

She was pretty. Very pretty.

He swallowed and took a moment to compose himself, not wanting to embarrass himself. “My name is Amajiki Tamaki.”

“Nice to meet you!” Her face broke into an innocent smile, and Tamaki felt like he was going to faint. “So, Amajiki… What’s your Quirk called?”

“Uh, Manifest.”

“And? What does it mean?”

“I can… manifest…” he cringed at his choice of words but continued, “the physical features of food I’ve eaten.”

Tamaki didn’t know how to explain his Quirk properly without him coming off as an odd person. Some people thought he was a ‘freak’ for possessing such an ability. He half-assumed that she would find him strange, but instead, she leaned closer in excitement, her eyes sparkling with even more interest.

“Oh, oh! Show me!” she said.

Though caught off-guard, he managed to reply, “Uh, okay.”

Tamaki raised his hand from the desk, unable to remember what exactly he had for breakfast as he had been too nervous to pay attention earlier. He did note that it was some sort of vegetable soup and was proven correct when a thin leafy vine erupted from the hollow of his palm, the stem still connected to his skin.

Nejire picked up the end of the vine, inspecting in closely. “Whoa! That’s amazing!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” She shifted her gaze to him, her eyebrows furrowing at something that caught her attention. With a small gasp, she bent down to peer at his face, her dainty fingers hovering closer to his ear. “Say, Amajiki, have your ears always been like that?”

Tamaki’s cheeks flushed, and he covered his ear with his free hand self-consciously. “I—uh, y-yes…”

He expected her to laugh at the way he struggled for words, but to his surprise, the sincere smile on her lips never faltered.

“Hm, I see…” She paused, deep in thought, and her eyes widened before exclaiming, “That’s it! You remind me of an elf!”

Tamaki stared at her with a confused expression on his face. “An… elf…?”

Nejire nodded and draped the vine she was holding over his head like a crown. “Yes, yes! See? Right there, an elf!”

“Huh?”

“I like you, Amajiki! You’re very interesting!”

“What?” Tamaki felt his whole face heat up to the tips of his ears. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“I can’t?”

Determined to change the subject he averted his gaze and muttered, “What about you, Hado? What kind of Quirk do you have?”

He was curious. Tamaki would bet anything her Quirk was a flashy sort; she was someone who stood out.

Nejire’s feet bounced in excitement. “My Quirk is called Wave Motion. Here, let me show you!”

She outstretched her hand, and a thin strip of golden light spiraled from her palm. For a second, he squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness coming from her hand, and admired the way the light danced once he was able to see it fully.

“It’s a beautiful Quirk,” he found himself commenting.

“Ah, thank you…”

The peal of her laughter lifted his spirits, and at that moment, he was certain Nejire was another one of those who shined like the sun. As she occupied the seat next to his, for the first time that day, Tamaki smiled.

A crowd had formed around the newly crowned beauty queen as she stood in the hallway. Once Nejire had placed the crown, sash, and bouquet she received from the pageant inside her locker, she turned to thank her friends and acquaintances, all of them celebrating her victory.

Tamaki leaned against the wall by the staircase, content with staying on the sidelines, intimidated by the number of people surrounding Nejire. He would wait for them to finish and approach her after. From the looks of it, it would take a while, but he didn’t mind waiting.

Yuyu, who was standing next to him, said, “Make sure she enjoys the rest of the day, okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Instead of answering, Yuyu merely smiled and spun around. She navigated through the crowd to get to Nejire, tearing up once again as she congratulated her best friend. Nejire laughed, patted her friend's shoulder, and said something before whispering a question in her ear. Once she has received a reply, Nejire craned her neck, her face lighting up as she faced Tamaki’s direction.

Saying their goodbyes, Nejire excused herself and walked his way. “There you are, Amajiki!”

“Hado…”

“Well?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Tamaki cleared his throat and said, “Congratulations, Hado. You were great out there.”

“I can’t believe I managed to do it!” She twirled in excitement, still over the moon at her victory.

“Of course, you did. You worked hard and practiced a lot, after all.”

“Thank you for coming to support me!” Nejire gestured to the staircase, giving him an expectant look. “Let’s go!”

“Go? Where?”

“To the festival, silly! Mirio, you, and I have always gone to the festival together since we were first years. It’s practically tradition at this point, right?”

“Yes, but Mirio is with Midoriya and Eri right now…”

“I know. I got to talk to them before they left. Did you see Eri’s smile? She’s so cute! Togata looks like he’s having a lot of fun with them, too. Anyway, it’s going to be just you and me this year, so let’s go on a date!”

“A d-d-date?!”

“That’s right!”

“Amajiki! Hado! Wanna go to the festival with us?” a classmate of theirs called from the distance, gathering other 3-A students who would like to explore the school festival together with the class.

Nejire shook her head and gave their classmates a wave. Yuyu whispered something to their classmate’s ear to which their classmate replied with a nod of understanding, waving back at Tamaki and Nejire’s direction and leading everyone inside their classroom to wait for the others.

“Come on, come on! I’m so excited!” Nejire exclaimed, patting his back repeatedly to urge him to start walking down the staircase.

Tamaki let out a shaky breath, following Nejire’s lead. The two of them had hung out many times before and had been alone together often, but they had never gone out somewhere explicitly as a date. A hint of pink dusted his cheeks at the prospect alone, the reality that he was going to be on a date for the first time—and with Nejire, at that—slowly sinking in.

Once they reached the school grounds, Nejire began to stroll from stall to stall excitedly, curious about the goods each of them was selling or which activity they were holding. Tamaki lagged behind, and Nejire would turn her head to check on him from time to time, asking him a question only to find him farther away each time. She sighed and pouted, shooting him a playful glare.

“You’re walking at a turtle’s pace, Amajiki! We’ll lose each other in the crowd at this rate.” Nejire reached out a hand to him, and swiftly—before he could figure out her intentions—her slim fingers intertwined with his. “There! Oh, by the way, have you heard? Apparently, some kids are selling beverages with Cementoss as the juice box! I wonder which stall is selling them…”

As Nejire rambled on, Tamaki’s eyes went wide, and his whole body grew stiff. His companion failed to notice—or perhaps, she was too used to the attention that she failed to notice—but everyone was looking their way. One by one, their whispers reached Tamaki’s ears, making his whole body tremble.

“Isn’t that Hado Nejire? The girl in The Big Three?”

“Yeah, that’s her. She won the beauty contest a while ago.”

“Look! She’s holding that guy’s hand.”

“That’s not just any other guy—that’s Amajiki Tamaki!”

“The guy who’s also in The Big Three? The one who can make tentacles?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right! Do you think they’re dating?”

“Hey, hey! Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” Nejire waved her free hand over his pained facial expression, worried.

“I’m… fine…”

“You don’t look fine to me, though,” she mused, peering closer to have a better look at him. “Ah, I know what this is!”

Without warning, Nejire dragged him away from the festival to the school garden. She chose the most secluded bench and pushed him on the shoulders, urging him to sit. “Wait here.”

Before Tamaki could protest, she had already turned and ran back to the direction of the festival. Although he was certain she wouldn’t ditch him, the fact that he was being a terrible date made him think twice. When a quarter of an hour passed, his shoulders threatened to slump in disappointment, and he asked himself repeatedly why she could be taking her time, assuring himself she got distracted or lost. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

Soon, he spotted Nejire sprinting back to him. Her lustrous hair bounced, and her face was coated by a thin sheen of sweat from the heat and physical exertion as she waved at him with a smile. “Amajiki! I’m here!”

Tamaki breathed a sigh and waved back.

Once she reached him, her breaths came out in light pants, and she handed him a paper bag. “I’m sorry I took so long. I passed by Uraraka and Tsu and chatted with them for a bit. Here you go!”

“It’s alright. What’s this for?” Tamaki asked, checking its contents: two packages of crepe and a pair of milkshakes.

“You’re stiff when you’re nervous, and you’re grumpy when you’re hungry. As of now, you are both of those things,” she stated and sat beside him, taking her share from the paper bag. “I was looking for a takoyaki stall, but I couldn’t find one. I saw this, and it's one of my favorite comfort foods, you know? So, I thought it would be nice if we could eat this together.”

“Hado… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, eat, Amajiki!”

As Tamaki unwrapped his food, the warmth he felt from Nejire’s actions slowed his movements. It didn’t surprise him how she knew him so well; they had been friends for a couple of years, after all, and yet the way she showed how she cared caught him off-guard. A pleasant feeling welled up in his chest as he listened to Nejire ramble about the stalls she passed by when she purchased their food. Tamaki used to be more comfortable eating in silence, but being surrounded by outgoing people, this had become the norm for him.

Once they were both finished eating, Nejire turned to him and asked, her voice soft and concerned, “Are you feeling better?”

Tamaki nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to go back?”

“Okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re really sure?”

“I’m really sure, Hado.” Tamaki stood, certain that their time together had helped him loosen up, ready as he’ll ever be for the crowd once more. “Let’s go.”

Nejire blinked at him, wondering what spurred this on and judging if he was well enough to go. Tamaki met her gaze and smiled. The sight of her reminded him of the performance she mesmerized everyone with earlier. At that moment, she wore no crown nor sash. She was the girl who had her curiosity piqued by anything and everything. She was the classmate who told him he reminded her of an elf when they first met and, until now, asked him endless questions. She was a great friend who showed him nothing but kindness.

She was Nejire, the girl he harbored feelings for.

Casually, Tamaki offered Nejire a hand and waited. A faint smile curved upon her lips, and she accepted and stood, both of them deliberately intertwining their fingers together.

As they returned to the festival and walked at a leisurely pace, the rest of the world was drowned out by the drumming of his heartbeat and the sound of Nejire’s voice as they talked. He pointed to a large booth a distance away. “Let’s check out that stall.”

“Oh, it’s one of those where you have to shoot a prize in order to win it,” Nejire replied, leading the way. “I didn’t think you’d be into those, Amajiki!”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so, too.”

They took their place at the back of the queue and waited for their turn. Tamaki browsed the prizes available for the taking, deciding on which one to aim to be more focused when his turn came. Nejire liked cute things, and plush toys, in general, were cute. A cat would be a safe choice, he concluded. Once they reached the front of the line, Tamaki paid the storekeeper and aimed the toy gun at the kitty plush toy wearing a purple ribbon on its head.

To his surprise, Nejire patted his back a few times and pointed to the other side of the shelf. “But, but! Why don’t you try aiming for the cute octopus one? It’s a lot like you, don’t you think so?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment…”

“Duh! Of course, it is!”

“Whatever you say…” he played it off, secretly relieved that, in a way, she revealed which one had caught her attention the most out of all the prizes.

Tamaki shifted his aim and managed to hit the octopus plush toy with its rounded mouth. Nejire cheered as the storekeeper handed him his prize, and the two of them walked away from the booth to make way for the next customers.

The moment they were a distance away from the booth, Tamaki tugged on Nejire’s sleeve and moved to hand her the octopus plush toy. “Here.”

“Huh?” She cocked her head to the side, a confused expression on her face. “I thought you wanted a cute plushie for yourself, Amajiki.”

“It’s for you.” He took her other hand to secure the octopus plush toy in her grasp and let go. “As thanks for the food and for taking me out of the crowd a while ago.”

“I see… Well, sure thing,” she replied with a smile, hugging the octopus plush toy to her cheek. “Thank you. I’ll name him ‘Tamaki-chan’.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘I’ll name him ‘Tamaki-chan’.’”

“Like your hero name? Nejire-chan?”

“That’s right!”

Before Tamaki knew it, the rest of the afternoon had gone by so quickly.

Together, the two of them explored the festival. One of Nejire’s hands had been occupied with the octopus plush toy while the other would intertwine with his and let go only when needed. Much to Nejire’s delight, they managed to locate which stall was selling beverages in Cementoss juice boxes and bought some of them. Later on, they managed to get out of the horror house unscathed. They even took photos with the ‘Principal Nezu and the U.A.’ themed photo booth, which was Nejire’s idea, but Tamaki was also on board with it, though he didn’t say it.

“I had a blast! Thanks for coming with me!” Nejire said once they reached the sidelines of the designated area for the school festival and entered the garden where they had rested earlier because of Tamaki’s nervous jitters. “Hm, I guess it’s time to go back to the dorm. Do you mind if we drop by the lockers first? I need to take the stuff I left there back with me.”

“Sure.”

With a skip in her steps, she led the way while humming the tune of her favorite song, unknowing that her happiness was making Tamaki’s nervous heart sing. It felt right. No one, save for the trees, flowers, and butterflies, was around the two of them. He didn’t know if he would get another chance, but he wanted her to know of the way he was feeling. At the same time, the depressing thought of her rejection crept inside his mind, but Tamaki cast those thoughts away as best as he could. If that were the case, he would be lonely, but it wasn’t as if they couldn’t be friends any longer. Even if she didn’t share the same romantic sentiments as him, Nejire would still be his friend, and he would remain hers. He knew her well enough, she was that kind of person.

Tamaki took a deep breath and exhaled. He took all the courage he could muster, tugged on her hand, and gave it a firm squeeze, urging her to stop. “Wait a moment, Hado.”

“What is it?” she asked, turning to him with those curious eyes that endeared him so much.

“I love you.”

Nejire was rendered speechless, a rare moment for her bright personality. Her wide-eyed gaze coupled with her reddened cheeks turned the speech Tamaki had been practicing in his mind into a jumbled mess, and his face grew warm. At that point, he must have looked like the exact shade of a tomato, but he couldn’t help it.

She was cute. She always was, even without meaning to.

Clumsily, he gathered whatever was left of his thoughts and hoped that what would come out of his lips would be enough to convey the extent of his feelings. “I… I want to be with you, Nejire.”

She averted her gaze to her shoes and fidgeted under his stare. Letting go of his hand, her fingers fiddled with the octopus plush toy’s limbs. Her lips curved into a shy smile, and with a soft voice, she asked, “So, you finally see me as a girl now, huh? Since when?”

“For quite a while now,” he admitted. “But I don’t really remember not liking you, to be honest… H-Hey, why are you crying?”

“Sorry, I just…” She wiped her tears with her sleeve, but as she did, more streamed down her cheeks. “I thought you’d always only see me as your classmate, friend, or teammate… I never thought this day would come.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I was… nervous.”

She chuckled and met his gaze, beaming. “That sounds a lot like you.”

Tamaki clenched his fists nervously. “Can I… Can I get an answer?”

Nejire threw her arms around him, and he held her by the waist to catch her on reflex. “I’ve fallen for you long ago, Tamaki. I love you—of course, I want to be with you, too!”

“Really?”

“Really, really. So, you’re my boyfriend now, right? Right?”

Tamaki was unused to the term ‘boyfriend’, but when it meant that his ‘girlfriend’ was the one who was holding on to him tightly, then the warmth from her embrace was all he needed to get used to it. “Yeah.”

“Tamaki…” she called as she leaned back to look at his face. “Kiss me.”

“H-H-Here? Now?”

“You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that…”

“Then, what is it?” Nejire gazed at him expectantly.

Tamaki asked himself the same question and found no valid answer. Throwing caution to the wind, he bent his head down and shut his eyes.

As their lips touched, the rustling of leaves made their eyes snap open and their heads turn to the direction of the sound. They released each other from their embrace and using her free hand, Nejire activated her Quirk to reveal who was behind the bushes.

Mirio and Izuku paused mid-step and turned around slowly, their eyes wide, every detail in their demeanor screaming that they were caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing.

Izuku was the first to snap out of it. “We, uh, w-we were just—we happened to be passing by! We walked Eri to the gates, and I—um, we couldn’t help but overhear, but we sure didn’t see a-a-anything…”

“Midoriya’s right, we heard!” Mirio sauntered over to his fellow Big Three members and shook their hands. “Finally! Congratulations to you both! I guess I’m the ‘third-wheel’ now, huh.”

Tamaki began, “Mirio, were you spying—”

“Anyway, carry on!” Mirio ran back to Izuku and dragged him by the arm, escaping as quickly as they could to the direction of the dormitories.

Tamaki and Nejire exchanged glances and ended up laughing.

Special thanks to @photoproses for looking over the draft of this story for me! ♡

Thank *you* for reading my first work in this fandom! I hope the fluffy times made you smile. (◍•ᴗ•◍)

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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homosubtext · 4 years ago

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today i submitted the last part of my application to a university that is like,,, my dream school. pls hope/pray/manifest/whatever that i get into this school, i really wanna go there :(((

#listen to rey for a moment #edit from a year later: i got in and finished my first year there :)

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rokutouxei · 4 years ago

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the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 18 OF 22

how intricately love crosses love; love makes knots; love brutally tears them apart. I have been knotted; I have been torn apart.

- Virginia Woolf, the Waves

Her phone receives three calls in the span of an hour.

The first one is from an old friend, who rings to ask her how she’ll feel like being neighbors again. Her friend is planning to apply to the university’s MA program, and that she’ll be dropping by within the next week to submit some requirements for the application. She’s asking if she’s free, and if they could hang out a little before she goes home. She bites the butt-end of the marker in between her teeth as they’re talking, scribbling out onto the date on her calendar tacked to the wall. It’s a great phone call.

The second one is from the school she’s going on exchange to. A lady with a thick (but lovely!) accent tells her that they’ve finished signing the paperwork she needs to submit for her student visa. That the document is in her email, and that they’ve forwarded the hard copy to the Office of Student Relations, saying that she should pick it up at their office by the end of the week. She nods and thanks them as they big goodbye. When the call ends, she flutters with excitement.

It’s that last call that’s a little more troublesome.

“Busy today, aren’t we?” Vincent comments with a small laugh, their little conversation about the finalized date for the exhibit cut short once more as she excuses herself to take the call. She awkwardly grins at him as she heads out of the studio, ducking into the living room.

“Yes?” A beat. “Oh, yes. Yes it’s me.” Silence. The smile that was originally on her face upon recognizing that it’s one of the OSR staff organizing her trip disappears quickly. “Is… that really the only schedule available, sir?” More silence. “Oh, no, that’s not—” a pause. “I see. I’m sorry. Yes, I understand.” She bites her lip, looks across the house through to the kitchen, eyes gluing distractedly onto the unwashed coffee mugs on the sink. “Of course. Yes. Thank you. This is noted. I’m sorry. Yes.”

She puts the phone down. Stares at the “ended call” screen before she looks up again, catching Vincent’s stare from the studio doorway. He smiles at her. She smiles back, but she feels so weak.

She turns back to her phone with a sigh.

She has a solution for at least one of the phone calls: the first one. She rings up her friend the next day and proposes a drinking party.

Says she’ll bring her other university friends to introduce to her, and they’ll hang out, then maybe share in the good energy (and the misery) of being in the same university—likely soon, we’re manifesting it!

They agree to crash at a place downtown for the night, everyone pitching in for an Airbnb in the middle of a school week. She invites Dazai, and Isaac, and Arthur; they each invite some other familiar faces, Napoleon, Leonardo, and Sebastian, of course—her friend’s brother.

She doesn’t know if she wants to invite Theo.

Only because it’s been… weird.

She’s sure she wants to invite Vincent, though, and inviting him is tantamount to inviting the other, so she does anyway. But because fate is a cruel tutor, the exact reverse of what she has wanted to happen, happens.

Vincent apologizes profusely, saying he’s in the middle of a rather time-sensitive painting (something about painting while the paint is not entirely dry, and his timer is set to just about tonight) so can she bring Theo instead?

And she knows the drill. Theo does not say no to Vincent.

Theo, of course, could just lie to his brother, a little white lie about coming with her to the little Korean barbecue drinking party they had planned tonight, to introduce her group of friends to her childhood friend, who was in the campus lately because she had applied for an MA in the very same department.

But Theo doesn’t.

He goes with them, just as Vincent had expected him to.

Gets in the small van and listen to Arthur and Dazai sing along to the annoying song on the radio way too loudly, the windows rolled down, she and her friend laughing at the boys making a ruckus, her friend’s quiet, stern-looking older brother focused on driving them out of the campus.

Theo wonders if he should’ve lied, after all.

But he knows that even if he knew that he should’ve, he would have come anyway. Because he knows himself. Knows that he will be lying to everyone else and denying it with his whole chest but in truth, he knows that he is just buying some more time with her. Even if that is time spent sitting at the end of a grill table flipping meat as the rest of the table laughs and makes a cacophony of noises, half-drunk on cheap alcohol. Even if that means just sitting next to her as the long night passes, silent in their fullness, not speaking, not breaking the illusion that everything is alright, that she won’t be leaving him soon, that there’s so much brewing in his chest and he still…

Doesn’t have the courage to tell her a single word of it.

Her hands are numb with her nerves, but the night goes… surprisingly well.

She and Theo hang around each other, passing barbecue and utensils, but they do not… have an explosive argument like she feared they would have. She reminds herself that they have nothing to argue about, that nothing had been done wrong. Still, she doesn’t want to make a scene out here. She’d told her friend she was going to introduce her university friends, and a shouting match in an airbnb isn’t exactly what friends do.

Instead, she pretends like nothing is different. Like nothing had changed drastically over the past few days. Teases Arthur and Dazai as they huddle each other and have excessive amounts of PDA that would have been unacceptable if they were actually a couple. (“They get a free pass because they’re fuck buddies?” “Mmhmm, somehow it doesn’t count.” “Who said it doesn’t count?! This is scandalous!” “Arthur did. …Wait a minute.”) Gapes at Sebastian and his very obvious mental hard-on for Napoleon, who is busy discussing with him something about a historical note on food rituals in the 1600s, or something—she really isn’t paying attention. Texts Isaac with a winky face waiting for him to finally get here like he promised he would.

Ignores the one person she wishes she could talk to right now but does not have the courage to.

And just as Theo makes his way out to the porch, maybe to sober up, maybe to get some time to himself, her friend, face already flushed with alcohol, a silly grin plastered on her face, elbows her lightly, “So, which one of these cuties is the one you’re pining for?”

“Give me a minute,” she says, as she gets up on her feet to follow Theo walking away.

Somewhere in between pizza and the first two or three rounds of beer, Theo goes out to the terrace for a little bit of silence. He’d expected her three usual suspects to come—Isaac, Dazai, Arthur—but he hadn’t expected a crowd, especially not of people he barely knew. The whiskey that Leonardo guy had handed to him was pretty strong, too. He’s still standing straight, but his mind is already spinning in circles.

On one hand, seeing her act so normal gives him some sort of relief. This is what he wanted for her. He wanted to step back, fold the dog-eared parts of his heart back onto itself so that he doesn’t notice them—the bookmarks of affection he’d left along the edges of their friendship’s pages. And sure, pulling away was a feat on its own, particularly because he knew she was leaving, and that made him want to spend even more valuable time with her, but—

This is better for her. He knows that. He understands that. And he’s willing to give that to her.

Besides, she said so herself. She no longer wants anchors.

But on the other hand, seeing her act so normal, so oblivious when he’s torn himself open to give her peace of mind leaves an undesirable taste in his mouth.

But it’s not like he could tell her.

Theo’s just about downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass when she comes out to the porch, the sight of her face like salt to the wound.

It takes him all his strength to smile.

“Mind some company?” she asks, and he shakes his head, leaning against the barrier carefully. “Too loud inside?”

He laughs. “The whiskey was crazy.”

She nods. “Leonardo has a ridiculous alcohol stash. A wildcard during drinking parties.”

She closes the door behind her and leans against the balcony next to him, taking a deep sigh. She’s close enough to him that Theo can smell the faint citrus of her perfume.

Theo doesn’t know what to say but he knows he wants to talk to her.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyes trained on the pastel yellow linen of the off-shoulder blouse she’s wearing. “Color suits you.” She smiles—even if it hurts a little—and shrugs to emphasize them when he points it out.

“Thanks,” she says. “Finally the season to wear bright colors, you know.”

In his mind, she is still beige coat and black boots in the middle of fall. But even that feels like an entire lifetime ago. The months have gone by in a haze. Theo begins to feel the weight of regret—of letting it pass by out of his grasp—sink inside his gut.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Theo says off-handedly, eyes turned to the ceiling. “Busy?”

“Yeah,” she says, with a half-sigh that’s dragged out of her. She takes a breath and leans her back against the veranda as well, but she looks downward, instead. At the corner of his eye, he catches her pursing her lips as if choosing what to say. “Paperwork.”

“Welcome to bureaucracy,” he jokes, and the two of them laugh.

But just a little.

As if they both knew they were hiding something else underneath the laughter.

“How’ve you been?”

It’s a simple question. One they’ve asked each other a million times before. One that doesn’t have to feel as heavy as it does right now.

“Okay,” she says, but her voice falters. “Could be better.”

Theo hums. She knows that means me too.

“But it’s going great, you know. For both of us.”

That makes him turn.

“With, with the exhibit, right?” she follows up, caught off guard by his gaze. “And with the scholarship, and you’re on your last class, aren’t you? Pre-thesis?”

“Hopefully,” he says.

She smiles at it. “Will be, I promise,” she says.

For a moment, the two of them stand there next to each other in silence. Which should have been normal and comfortable between them, but today…

Today is different.

With another sigh, she decides to just go for it.

“Can I just… get straight to the point?” she asks, as if cautious.

Theo nods, even when his heart is twisting into knots.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

When she says it, it sounds like her voice is crumpling with the weight of the words.

Theo doesn’t dare look at her. Eyes open but still trained at the ceiling, he says, “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

Her face scrunches up, for the briefest of moments, into a potent kind of anger. An expression that clearly spoke then what the hell have we been doing?! without even a word. Then, it dissolves into something gentler, like defeat. “I’m not mad… just tell me if there’s something wrong?”

A plea for help. Theo hates how transparent he’s become to her, over the few months. Theo wonders if she has something she doesn’t have the courage to tell him either.

“Nothing is wrong,” he insists, closing his eyes as if it makes saying it easier. “It’s just been busy. Like you.”

“Then can I ask why you’ve been upset?”

“I haven’t been upset.”

Theo doesn’t like the feeling. The lie is acid in his mouth. He can avoid questions, he can dodge them, he can make up the most convoluted reasons to divert them—but he does not like lying.

He isn’t lying. He’s not upset.

He’s distraught, and that’s not the same thing.

“Arthur says you’ve been out of character.”

Somehow, the idea that she’s been keeping tabs on him doesn’t make him feel any better. “You know how Arthur is.”

“Arthur doesn’t lie.”

Theo quickly snaps, turning toward her with narrowed eyes. It makes her recoil. It’s an ugly feeling. Theo thinks he deserves it. “Are you saying I do?”

With a deep breath, instead of shouting back, she only shakes her head. “I’m not. You don’t.” She bites her lip as she turns her eyes back to the ground. “…though I kind of wish you were.”

“What?”

She doesn’t answer. Not right away, anyway. Theo looks at her and tries to figure out the expression on her face. It contorts, half-pain and half-pity.

He doesn’t know for who.

“I don’t want to leave like this, Theo,” she says after what feels like forever, her voice as fragile as snowflakes. “It’s like I’ve lost you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know where you are. Something happened that made you drifted away. I don’t know what it is. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is. I don’t—do you know how important you are to me?” She pauses, out of breath. When they make eye contact, they both look away. “You are important to me. So if something happened, tell me.”

Nothing ‘happened’, he wants to tell her. Something ‘happening’ implies that there was something that changed the way things are. But nothing changed. It’s always been like this from the start. That she was going to go, and he was going to stay.

Nothing happened, it’s just his stubborn heart refusing to shut up or speak up. He doesn’t know which is worse.

Theo doesn’t want to speak because the last time he had spoken they had fought over the one thing that is the most important to her. He doesn’t want to speak because he doesn’t know what it is that he can say.

She takes his silence as a denial.

“Does this just not mean as much to you as it does to me?”

“You’re my friend,” is what he says. Not an answer, but a response.

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

From the inside, there’s a sound of glasses clinking. Someone must have initiated another shot for everyone. But the cheerful laughter that rolls out the window does not lessen the weight of their conversation.

Maybe it makes it worse.

“Dazai says you don’t want me to go.”

The lilt of her voice says curiosity, not anger. That relieves Theo only the slightest bit.

He doesn’t look at her. “That’s a lie.”

“Then why did it make you so upset?”

“I told you, I’m not upset.”

“Not-upset enough to avoid me for weeks?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Look, Theo, if you just—”

“You want to go away, so go away,” he says, sharply. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going. He doesn’t want to tell her. He doesn’t want to be someone holding her back. Maybe if he tears at the string holding them together hard enough, she’ll be able to sail away.

But what he said only makes her fold even deeper into herself, distress written plain on her face. Like something snapped inside of her. Guilt begins to tear at him, but this is the only way he knows how to do this. It will hurt, but these are only growing pains. “Are you still holding that against me?”

“I’m not holding it against you.”

“Yes, that’s probably exactly why you brought it up,” she says, her voice now louder. “All of that, all those days and weeks together and you’re still clinging on to that conversation at the rooftop, aren’t you? We don’t need to see eye to eye on it, Theo.”

“I agree, we don’t.” Every word she says in that broken voice makes it harder and harder for him to not just tell her the truth, but he knows he can’t. It will cost them both too much. “I’m still allowed to have my thoughts on it.”

“Right, right.” She laughs. A dry sound. “So you would feel bad, then, huh? That I got offered the finishing course? That I’m considering staying there. Forever. Finish my degree there. Maybe work there. Is that it? Are you going to get mad at me for that?”

For what feels like the billionth time tonight, he says: “I’m not mad at you—”

“Do you know how much this hurts?” she interrupts, but this time her voice is small, like it’s hiding in the back of her throat. She could shout at him all night but it’s this tone that makes Theo hurt the most. “I just thought you’d be a little more supporting, you know, you’re my friend, after all, but…”

“I do support you. I won’t be stopping you from leaving,” he says.

“Then why does it hurt?” she blurts, and it’s obvious on the look on her face that she hadn’t meant to. She turns her back to him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She takes a few shuddering breaths in the silence Theo doesn’t dare get in the middle of, and continues, “why did it seem like you were disappointed?”

Theo stops. Genuinely doesn’t know what to say, just stares at her back in front of him, feeling like she’s already disappearing out of his grasp. That if he reaches out to her right now he won’t be able to reach her—so he does, stretching a hand to see if he can still touch her, the soft cotton of her cardigan—

And he does, and it makes her turn toward him, anger in her eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” he says. It’s all he can say. It’s the only truth that his mouth can form a shape around. “I’m very proud of you.”

And somehow—somehow that makes it worse. “Then act like it!” she says, tears already stinging the corner of her eyes. “Don’t just push me away and then expect me to be fine with it.”

“I wanted to give you space and let you focus on what you have to do.”

“I didn’t want to focus you out of my life, Theo!” she says. She looks at him like a wounded beast, pain radiating everywhere. “You don’t get to decide what things I add or cut off from my life, you do know that right?”

The thing is, he could admit right now. Could just tell her that he’s been running himself sick wondering if he should tell her. But he doesn’t want to tell her. Why would he, when all she’s ever really wanted was to go away? Why would he when all she’s wanted was to be free of anything that’s holding her down, and he doesn’t want to be that.

He wants her to go.

He does. Or maybe he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter, because he knows what he has to do.

He’s always been the one that stays.

Which is just a prettier way of saying he’s the one that gets left behind.

Her voice takes him back to the present, the sound of it sinking in his brain.

“Did you ever stop to consider what I’d feel about this?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re my friend, I wanted you to be by my side and—”

“I’m sorry.”

“—it’s not that I couldn’t have done it on my own, but—”

“I’m sorry.”

“—you don’t know what’s going on in my head all the time and I don’t know what goes on in yours,” she says. “Theo, what if I told you I loved you?”

He falters for just a moment, but then he says: “I’m sorry.”

Silence. She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes glassy. No tears fall.

Maybe if they begin to roll down her cheeks, she might just get him to say it.

The tears might get him to hold her face in his hands, wipe the tears away, tell her he loves her too, tell her he still wants her to go.

But before they can, she turns away from him and goes back into the room, shouting as she enters: “Oookay, I’m too sober! Give me some more of that gin!”, and the door closes behind her with a small click.

Theo stands outside on the porch in the late spring night, with no words left in him.

They stay away from each other for the rest of the night.

Theo wakes up just as the sun is about to rise. Napoleon, Leonardo, and Sebastian seem to have taken shelter in the house’s other bedrooms—but he, Arthur, Dazai, Isaac, her friend, and her have camped out in the living room to sleep.

Theo’s eyes scan the room. Professor Newton arrived late last night but joined in just as he’s promised. Her friend had clung all night to Newton like a flirty leech, and the usually-reclusive man had no choice but to stay still and… well, stay flustered; Theo wakes up to him draping his jacket over her friend, as he tries to leave ahead of everyone else to make it to his morning class.

Across the room, Dazai and Arthur are also already awake, watching something intently on Dazai’s phone, giggling and with their hands held together in between them over the blanket. Theo doesn’t know at this point if they are lovers or really just fuck-buddies, but he yearns anyway—to be able to have the courage to connect like that.

And next to Theo, she is asleep, huddled under a blanket with a silly print, a large cartoon penguin sitting on top of an iceberg. The penguin has its arms raised wide, open, laid upon her side like protecting her from danger. From him. And Theo—Theo is about to reach out his hand and brush off the stray lock of her hair that’s now dangled in front of her face, trying his best to not wake her up with his movement.

She makes a small sound, and Theo’s heart stops for a moment, but then she does not wake up.

She’s right there next to him, and she hasn’t left, and it’s still spring, so she isn’t leaving soon, but Theo already feels so lonely. To whom will he recite the interesting lines of poetry that he encounters? To whom will he discuss all sorts of philosophies with, sitting in the alcove, waiting out the rain? Who else will be at the bookstore every week, aggressively haggling for books that already are in set prices, who else will team up with Arthur to make his head hurt? Who else will ring their little bike bell when they pass the bookshop at odd hours of the day?

His hand grazes just the tops of her cheeks as he tucks the stray lock of hair away behind her ear. He imagines the flush of it, should she be awake. But she is not awake, and he gets to be alone in his loneliness. His touch hovers there for just a moment, memorizing her warmth, before he pulls his hand back, and turns away.

Across the room, Arthur is watching, and shaking his head in defeat.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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Stormlight Archive Epigraphs (7) - The Knights Radiant

These are from WOR Part 3 (excerpts from the in-universe book Words of Radiance) and Oathbringer Part 3 (gemstones used by the ancient Radiants to record their feelings and observations). Epigraphs will be organized by Radiant order or, when applicable, by topic.

I’ve included in the headings for the Radiant orders their associated gemstone, attributes, and Surges. For the non-obvious surges: Abrasion = Friction, Progression = Growth/Regrowth/Healing, Transformation = Soulcasting, Transportation = travelling to Shadesmar. I’m still not clear on Cohesion (Strong Axial Interconnection) and Tension (Soft Axial Interconnection).

Minor spoilers for the pre-released chapters of Words of Radiance.

This is a very long one!

Radiants Generally

They also, when they had settled their rulings in the nature of each bond’s placement, called the name of it the Nahel bond, with regard to its effect upon the souls of those caught in its grip; in this description, each was related to the bonds that drive Roshar itself, ten Surges, named in turn and two for each order; in this light, it can be seen that each order would by necessity share one Surge with each of its neighbors. (Chapter 8, page 6)

In short, if any presume Kazilah to be innocent, you must look at the facts and deny them in their entirety; to say that the Radiants were destitute of integrity for this execution of one of their own, one who had obviously fraternized with the unwholesome elements, indicates the most slothful of reasoning; for the enemy’s baleful influence demanded vigilance on all occasions, of war and peace. (Chapter 32, page 17)

Twenty-three cohorts followed behind, that came from the contributions of the King of Makabakam, for though the bond betwen man and spren was at times inexplicable, the ability for bonded spren to manifest in our world rather than their own grew stronger through the course of the oaths given. (Chapter 35, page 9)

Windrunners (Sapphire - Protecting/Leading - Gravitation/Adhesion)

Today, I leaped from the tower for the last time. I felt the wind dance around me as I fell all the way along the eastern side, past the tower, and to the foothills below. I’m going to miss that. (From drawer 10-1, sapphire [Windrunner])

My spren claims that this recording will be good for me, so here I go. Everyone says I will swear the Fourth Ideal soon, and in so doing, earn my armor. I simply don’t think that I can. Am I not supposed to want to help people? (From drawer 10-12, sapphire [Windrunner])

Skybreakers (Smokestone - Just/Confident - Gravitation/Division)

And thus were the disturbances in the Revv toparchy quieted, when, upon their ceasing to prosecute their civil dissensions, Nalan’Elin betook himself to finally accept the Skybreakers who had named him their master, when initially he had spurned their advances and, in his own interests, refused to countenance that which he deemed a pursuit of vanity and annoyance; this was the last of the Heralds to admit such patronage. (Chapter 5, page 17)

There came also sixteen of the order of Windrunners, and with them a considerable number of squires, and finding in that place the Skybreakers dividing the guilty from the innocent, there ensued a great debate. (Chapter 28, page 3)

The considerable abilities of the Skybreakers for making such amounted to an almost divine skill, for which no specific Surge or spren grants capacity, but however the order came to such an aptitude, the fact of it was real and acknowledged even by their rivals. (Chapter 28, page 3)

We can record any secret we wish, and leave it here? How do we know that they’ll be discovered? Well, I don’t care. Record that, then. (From drawer 2-3, smokestone [Skybreaker])

I wish to submit my formal protest at the idea of abandoning the tower. This is an extreme step, taken brashly. (From drawer 2-22, smokestone [Skybreaker])

This generation has had only one Bondsmith, and some blame the divisions among us upon this fact. The true problem is far deeper. I believe that Honor himself is changing. (From drawer 24-18, smokestone [Skybreaker])

Dustbringers (Ruby - Brave/Obedient - Division/Abrasion)

And when they were spoken of by the common folk, the Releasers claimed to be misjudged because of the dreadful nature of their power; and when they dealt with others, always were they firm in their claim that other epithets, notably “Dustbringers,” often heard in the common speech, were unacceptable substitutions, in particular for their similarity to the word “Voidbringers.” They did also exercise anger in great prejudice regarding it, though to many who speak, there was little difference between these two assemblies. (Chapter 17, page 11)

If this is to be permanent, then I wish to leave record of my husband and children. Wzmal, as good a man as any woman could dream of loving. Kmakra and Molinar, the true gemstones of my life. (From drawer 12-15, ruby [Dustbringer])

Good night, dear Urithiru. Good night, sweet Sibling. Good night, Radiants. (From drawer 29-29, ruby [Dustbringer])

The two gems are at variance with the Dustbringers’ dangerous reputation. This could just be intended to indicate that they are people and that excessive generalizations shouldn’t be made, or it could indicate something larger about the order.

Edgedancers (Diamond - Loving/Healing - Abrasion/Progression)

When Simol was informed of the arrival of the Edgedancers, a concealed consternation and terror, as is common in such cases, fell upon him; although they were not the most demanding of orders, their graceful, limber movements hid a deadliness that was, by this time, quite renowned; also, they were the most articulate and refined on the radiants. (Chapter 20, page 12)

“The most articulate and refined.” Again and always - poor Wyndle!

Truthwatchers (Emerald - Learned/Giving - Progression/Illumination)

Now, as the Truthwatchers were esoteric in nature, their order being formed entirely of those who never spoke or wrote of what they did, in this lies frustration for those who would see their unending secrecy from the outside; they were not naturally inclined to explanation; and in the case of Corberon’s disagreements, their silence was not a sign of an exceeding abundance of disdain, but rather an exceeding abundance of tact. (Chapter 11, page 6)

I worry about my fellow Truthwatchers. (From drawer 8-21, second emerald)

[Also see the post section “The Destruction of the Ancient Singers”]

Lightweavers (Garnet - Creative/Honest - Illumination/Transformation)

Yet, were the orders not disheartened by so great a defeat, for the Lightweavers provided spiritual sustenance; they were enticed by those glorious creations to venture on a second assault. (Chapter 21, page 10)

These Lightweavers, by no coincidence, included many who pursued the arts; namely: writers, artists, musicians, painters, sculptors. Considering the order’s general temperament, the tales of their strange and varied mnemonic abilities may have been embellished. (Chapter 21, page 10)

Malchin was stymied, for though he was inferior to none in the arts of war, he was not suitable for the Lightweavers; he wished for his oaths to be elementary and straightforward, and yet their spren were liberal, as to our comprehension, in definitions pertaining to this matter; the process involved speaking truths as an approach to a threshold of self-awareness that Malchin could never attain. (Chapter 12, page 21)

I am worried about the tower’s protections failing. If we are not safe from the Unmade here, then where? (From drawer 3-11, garnet [Lightweaver])

Elsecallers (Zircon - Wise/Careful - Transformation/Transportation)

As to the other orders that were inferior in this visiting of the far realm of spren, the Elsecallers were prodigiously benevolent, allowing others as auxiliary to their visits and interactions; though they did never relinquish their place as prime liaisons with the great ones of the spren; and the Lightweavers and Willshapers both also had a affinity to the same, though neither were the true masters of that realm. (Chapter 6, page 2)

My research into the cognitive reflections of spren at the tower has been deeply illustrative. Some thought that the Sibling had withdrawn from men by intent - but I find counter to that theory. (From drawer 1-1, first zircon [Elsecaller])

The wilting of plants and the general cooling of the air is disagreeable, yes, but some of the tower’s functions remain in place. The increased pressure, for example, persists. (From drawer 1-1, second zircon [Elsecaller])

Something is happening to the Sibling. I agree this is true, but the division among the Knights Radiant is not to blame. Our percieved worthiness is a separate issue. (From drawer 1-1, third zircon [Elsecaller])

As the duly appointed keepers of the perfect gems, we of the Elsecallers have taken the burden of protecting the ruby nicknamed Honor’s Drop. Let it be recorded. (From drawer 20-10, zircon)

Willshapers (Amethyst - Resolute/Builder - Transportation/Cohesion)

And now, if there was an uncut gem among the Radiants, it was the Willshapers; for though enterprising, they were erratic, and Invia wrote of them, “capricious, frustrating, unreliable,” as taking it for granted that others would agree; this may have been an intolerant view, as often Invia expressed, for this order was said to be the most varied, inconsistent in temperament save for a general love of adventure, novelty, or oddity. (Chapter 7, page 1)

I returned to the tower to find squabbling children, instead of proud knights. That’s why I hate this place. I’m going to go chart the hidden undersea caverns of Aimia; find my maps in Akinah. (From drawer 16-16, amethyst [Willshaper])

Now that we abandon the tower, can I finally admit that I hate this place? Too many rules. (From drawer 8-1, amethyst [Willshaper])

Well, the two gemstones certainly support the first text’s description of the Willshapers! An order whose fundamental ideas are about freedom and self-actualization (as seen in Venli’s chaper of ROW, and her project) will inherently be independent-minded and more varied than some of the others. The “love of adventure, novelty, or oddity” makes me think that Eshonai would have been a Willshaper as well, and now I’m sad about her death again.

Stonewards (Topaz - Dependable/Resourceful - Cohesion/Tension)

Now, as each order was thus matched to the nature and temperament of the Herald it named patron, there were none more archetypal of this than the Stonewards, who followed after Talenelat’Elin, Stonesinew, Herald of War: they thought it a point of virtue to exemplify resolve, strength, and dependability. Alas, they took less care for imprudent practice of their stubbornness, even in the face of proven error. (Chapter 13, page 1)

As a Stoneward, I spent my entire life looking to sacrifice myself. I secretly worry that this is the cowardly way. The easy way out. (From drawer 29-5, topaz)

The disagreements between the Skybreakers and the Windrunners have grown to tragic levels. I plead with any who hear this to recognize you are not so different as you think. (From drawer 27-19, topaz [Stoneward])

The Edgedancers are too busy relocating the tower’s servants and farmers to send a representative to record their thoughts in these gemstones. I’ll do it for them, then. They are the ones who will be most displaced by this decision. The Radiants will be taken in by nations, but what of all these people now without homes? (From drawer 4-17, second topaz [Stoneward])

The enemy makes another push toward Feverstone Keep. I wish we knew what it was that had them so interested in that area. Could they be intent on capturing Rall Elorim? (From drawer 19-2, third topaz [Stoneward])

Bondsmiths (Heliodor - Pious/Guiding - Adhesion/Tension)

But as for Ishi’Elin, his was the part most important at their inception; he readily understood the implication of Surges being granted to men, and caused organization to be thrust upon them; as having too great power, he let it be known that he would destroy each and every one, unless they agreed to be bound by precepts and laws. (Chapter 2, page 4)

But as for the Bondsmiths, they had members only three, which number was not uncommon for them; nor did they seek to increase this by great bounds, for during the times of Madasa, only one of their order was in continual accompaniment of Urithiru and its thrones. Their spren was understood to be specific, and to persuade them to grow to the magnitude of the other orders was seen as seditious. (Chapter 16, page 14)

The Destruction of the Ancient Singers

So Melishi retired to his tent, and resolved to destroy the Voidbringers upon the next day, but that night did present a different stratagem, related to the unique abilities of the Bondsmiths; and being hurried, he could make no specific account of his process; it was related to the very nature of the Heralds and their divine duties, an attribute the Bondsmiths alone could address. (Chapter 30, page 18)

Something must be done about the remnants of Odium’s forces. The parsh, as they are now called, continue their war with zeal, even without their masters from Damnation. (From drawer 30-20, first emerald [Truthwatcher])

A coalition has been formed among scholar Radiants. Our goal is to deny the enemy their supply of Voidlight; this will prevent their continuing transformations, and give us an edge in combat. (From drawer 30-20, second emerald [Truthwatcher])

Our revelation is fueled by the theory that the Unmade can perhaps be captured like ordinary spren. It would require a special prison. And Melishi. (From drawer 30-20, third emerald [Truthwatcher])

Ba-Ado-Mishram has somehow Connected with the parsh people, as Odium once did. She provides Voidlight and facilitates forms of power. Our strike team is going to imprison her. (From drawer 30-20, fourth emerald [Truthwatcher])

We are uncertain of the effect this will have on the parsh. At the very least, it should deny them forms of power. Melishi is confident, but Naze-daughter-Kuzodo warns of unintended side effects.(From drawer 30-20, fifth emerald [Truthwatcher])

Surely this will bring - at long last - the end to war that the Heralds promised us. (From drawer 30-20, final emerald [Truthwatcher])

Don’t tell anyone. I can’t say it. I must whisper. I foresaw this. (From drawer 30-20, a particularly small emerald [Truthwatcher])

The Recreance

Now, as the Windrunners were thus engaged, arose the event which has hitherto been referenced: namely, the discovery of some wicked thing of eminence, though whether it be some rogueries among the Radiants’ adherents or of some external origin, Avena would not suggest. (Chapter 38, page 6)

The “wicked thing of eminence” was the Eila Stele, which told that humans were the original Voidbringers and Singers the original inhabitants of Roshar, and that humans has destroyed their homeworld using the Surges.

That they responded immediately and with great consternation is undeniable, as these were primary among those who would forswear and abandon their oaths. The term Recreance was not then applied, but has since become a popular title by which this event is named. (Chapter 38, page 6)

This act of great villainy went beyond the impudence which had hitherto been ascribed to the orders; as the fighting was particularly intense at this time, many attributed this act to a sense of inherent betrayal; and after they withdrew, about two thousand made assault upon them, destroying much of the membership; but this was only nine of the ten, as one said they would not abandon their arms and flee, but instead entertained great subterfuge at the expense of the other nine. (Chapter 38, page 20)

This refers to the Recreance when the Radiants broke their oaths (while a conflict was ongoing) and abandoned their blades and armour. It sounds like they were subsequently attacked and killed by non-Radiants (some of whom would have had their blades and armour, now Shardblades and Shardplate). The Skybreakers were the order that continued in secret.

#the stormlight archive #brandon sanderson #epigraphs

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mutantsrisingrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations CAITLIN! You’ve been accepted as EPIMETHEUS.

Tierney is a skeleton that I hold near to my heart and it’s clear from your application that he’s just a dear to you, Caitlin! The backstory that you weaved together for him not only broke my heart, but made me actively root for him. The bit about Blake and how important he was to Tierney was such a great addition to him and added another layer that pulled at my heart. “But nothing good lasts forever,” whew did that line slap me across the face. I can’t wait to see where you take Tierney on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Caitlin

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 27

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: CST; Due to the current pandemic I have lost my job. I’m currently under a shelter-in-place order at my parents place so I have…a great deal of time. Sure, there are days I’m not around but those days are usually cleaning and shopping days. We’re trying to get attached to a schedule with….some success. So I’ll be pretty darn active for a while. In the event the pandemic is over I’ll let you know how my activity will change but that strikes me as a ways off.

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Tierney Sinclair; Epimetheus

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis-Male, he/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Tierney is a lot of things. But at his heart he’s a boy reaching out for a hand to hold. He’s been denied so much in life and now that his life is in his hands he wants to grab the things he never had. Family. Friends. Purpose. He’s been adrift for so long, lost in a world he doesn’t understand and that doesn’t want him, that finding solid ground to stand on has never been easy. And now that he’s found all of those things he’s finding life isn’t as simple as reaching for your goals and taking them. He struggles with himself some days. He wants to be the boy that never got to be and the man he’s proud of being today. He’s tugged between finding out what normal might have been or could be and doing what he’s good at and known for. It’s like a game of tug of war that he can never win.

BIO:

Content Warning: child abuse, murder, death

Tierney Sinclair was born to a single mother in the slums of Las Vegas, Nevada on September 8, 1979. And that was all he ever knew of his life before the orphanages. Abandoned on the doorstep of a local orphanage with nothing more than his name and a ratty hospital blanket. The Las Vegas Home for Orphans was not a kind place to grow up, especially not for a mutant. Tierney’s powers first manifested when he was three and throwing a tantrum. The bottle of milk he wanted so badly, rather miraculously, appeared next to him because he’d willed it. Easy enough to ignore, which is exactly what everyone opted to do. Mutants were trouble and the last thing they wanted here was mutant trouble. That was, until one of his tantrums caused one of the workers to black out and wake up two hours later.

He was four when he was given to the government for testing. And they tested him for years. Tierney was thirteen when they slapped a level five rating on him and finally released him to a mutant “friendly” orphanage out in Las Vegas. Not that life in the orphanage was much easier than life in the lab. Unaccustomed to the modern world Tierney found himself behind his peers in almost everything. Lost and alone in such a strange and different world made him an easy target for some of the tougher kids in the orphanage and they bullied him relentlessly. It all stopped the day Tierney snapped, nearly killing one of his biggest tormentors. He was punished severely for his actions and Tierney found he just didn’t care. He’d had enough of being walked on and over like a door mat. He was Tierney-fucking-Sinclair and woe to the person who thought him a push over.

Between his powers and his dangerous penchant for using them when angry Tierney did a lot of orphanage hopping until he aged out of the program at eighteen. Life outside the system proved to be….difficult, at best. With a petty crimes rap sheet as long as his arm and a level five label on top of that Tierney found no forgiveness is the world of humans. He survived on odd jobs and theft. Stealing was easy enough when all you had to do was wiggle your fingers at a lock and convince the elderly security guard to look the other way. It was stealing that landed him in the Blackburn Syndicate’s lap. Over confident in his abilities he ended up stepping into the middle of one of their cons at just the wrong moment, causing the whole job to flop. Some would say it was luck that they got out alive, but everyone there knew it was Tierney’s powers and fast thinking that got them all out and in one piece. That didn’t stop the Syndicate from being angry though and they presented Tierney with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Join them or die.

It was simple enough to say yes and shake the hand that sealed his fate. He slipped into life with the Syndicate with ease, surprising even himself. He job hopped for a while, struggling to find his place in the group. It was only after Blake Ryans, the Syndicate’s hitman, took him under his wing that he found it. Killing didn’t come naturally to Tierney but Blake never let him back down. He always said that if the government deemed him as dangerous he may as well live up to it, right? And eventually, he did. Blake crafted him into the best hitman he could be, expertly passing on the wealth of knowledge he’d accrued over the years. Tierney soaked it all up like a sponge and within three years had become Blake’s second in command, trusted enough to do Syndicate jobs on his own sometimes. But nothing good lasts forever.

On a job gone wrong Blake was lost and never returned. Tierney waited, and waited, and waited; but it became increasingly clear Blake was dead. He wasn’t surprised when the Syndicate asked him to step up and take Blake’s job, citing they’d been planning on asking him to do it anyways in the next couple of years. It was an easy enough yes. Blake never returned and after a while Tierney found he’d stopped waiting for him. It’s what Blake would have wanted anyways. He’s been the Syndicate’s most trusted hitman for years now, a job he takes great pride in. The Syndicate has become the only family he’s ever known and he’s exceptionally protective of them because of it. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect them. Nothing.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

ABIGAIL IMANI - (The tug towards what ‘normal’ could have been.) Tierney knows…almost nothing about this woman, save for the fact she’s always getting a cup of coffee when he is. At first it was just a weird coincidence but after a while it simply became routine. It’s easy to talk with her over things that don’t really matter. She makes him feel almost normal. What it’s like to be a person rather than the scary mutant most people peg him for these days. With Abigail he’s simply Tierney, the guy who likes too much sugar in his coffee.

CIARA SAWYER - (Another chance. Living vicariously through another.) Tierney can’t explain what drew him to Ciara the first time they met. Maybe it’s because he saw a little of himself in her or maybe it was the way she looked at him and smiled despite his reputation. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care. Like Blake all those years ago he tucked her under his wing and has tried to help her find her place in the Syndicate. He never expected someone as soft and quiet as Ciara to wind up being his most trusted asset in the field. Sure, the first couple of jobs were…bumpy but Ciara was a fast learner now they’re like a well oiled machine. He makes their car keys dances and she robs them blind. It’s brilliant. He hasn’t told her, but he’s resoundingly proud of who she’s become. There’s no one he’d rather work with out in the than her. It’s no secret that Tierney is soft on Ciara but woe to the person that tries to exploit that. If there’s one good thing he leaves behind in this world it will be her. He tries his hardest to shelter her from the more grisly aspects of his role in the Syndicate with varying degrees of success.

GERRARD BERMUDEZ - (The tug towards who he is today. Someone to rail against who isn’t afraid to rail back.) Tierney doesn’t hate Gerrard but he certainly doesn’t like him very much. No one knows why, not ever Tierney himself. It was such an instant distaste that lingers on his tongue like bad fish. He avoids him when he can…and when he can’t he’s not afraid to push at his buttons. It’s almost entertaining to see how far he can get sometimes.

EXTRA:

Content Warning: murder. abuse, violence, guns

-> Tierney doesn’t like killing. He never has. He knows it’s an odd trait to have in a man who is literally hired to kill people, but it’s something his mentor Blake instilled in him from the minute he started training him. Tierney will never kill someone simply because they are there. If they’re not his target then they don’t matter. He goes to great lengths to avoid unnecessary bloodshed but it’s happened on the rare occasion. He regrets those deaths and only those deaths. -> Some might say Tierney has a nasty habit of over planning his hits, but Tierney would disagree. He likes having a plan, likes watching as all the little pieces fall into place. It’s a heady sense of accomplishment. And the coup-de-grace? The ending parts. Tierney might not like shedding blood unnecessarily but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like shedding it altogether. There’s something heady in holding someone’s life in your hands and knowing exactly what you’re going to do with it. -> Tierney is trained in every aspect of killing imaginable. He’s talented with a gun, with his fists, and with his powers. It doesn’t matter how it happens so long as it happens, so Blake made sure Tierney could do the job any way imaginable. -> Outside of off hand remarks and vague references there is no one in the Syndicate who knows anything about Tierney’s life before the grand fuck up. Anyone that’s tried to ask about it has been rudely told to fuck off or out right ignored. As far as Tierney is concerned his life didn’t start until the Syndicate found him. -> Don’t touch Tierney without his permission. Years of abuse have made him a distrustful and jumpy man. Touching is prohibited to everyone except those he trusts and even then, he’s never been the kind of person who liked hugs anyways. -> Tierney never really managed to adapt to the modern life style that surrounds him. He’s hopeless when it comes to anything more complicated than the texting feature on his phone. Computers have always been a mystery to him and he’s perfectly okay with that. There are plenty of others out there that can do what he wants. If that means he has to ask or intimidate he’s flexible. -> Tierney is a staunch believer that mutants deserve more than they’ve got. Deserve more than a childhood of cruel experiments and homes. He wants mutants to be treated as equals instead of dangerous lab rats. It might not happen in his life time but he wants to pave the way for others like him. He buts heads with people who think mutants are more than humans. He wouldn’t wish his life on even them. -> Tierney doesn’t own a car. He owns a motorcycle. In fact, he owns four. He’s a grease monkey when it comes to bikes and can’t say no to a good deal. He finds something very soothing in spending a day working on one of his bikes. The Syndicate pays him well, but there’s people out there who pay him more for one of his custom bikes. -> Tierney has amazing control over his powers. But his powers have always been deeply tied to his emotions. He’s stronger when he’s feeling a powerful wash of emotions than when he isn’t. He hasn’t lost his cool in nearly twenty years but the effects of it can be damaging. He tries not to let himself get too overwhelmed. -> Tierney’s powers are tied to his hands. He can do things without them but using his hands as focus points helps him with the accuracy of his powers. There is no physical sign that Tierney is using his powers outside of someone who knows that when his hands are moving…things are moving. For Tierney manipulating his powers feels like a string of energy connecting him to his target. He can equate it to almost being like a puppeteer. -> Tierney has a fantastic amount of fortitude when it comes to using his powers for an extended period of time but after a while he will start to get tired, especially for tricks that require his full concentration. -> Power Break Down: ——> Telekinetic Choking: The ability to choke someone without physically touching them. One of the first of Tierney’s powers to manifest and one of the ones he relies heaviest on even now. He must be within sight of his target in order to achieve this power but his range can be as long as a basketball court if he concentrates. ——-> Telekinetic Homing Effect: The ability to cause an object to lock onto a target and follow them until they collide. This trick is one of Tierney’s most useful. And he’s always found it fun to grab someone’s bullet and send it back at them, even if they run. Tierney doesn’t know the full extent of his range but again, he must see the person in order to send anything with homing capabilities at them. ——-> Telekinetic Object Manipulation: The ability to move objects by focusing on them. Probably the best distraction technique ever. Nothing gets people to stop paying attention to their surroundings like their car keys dancing out of their pocket, right? It’s taken him many years but Tierney is now capable of performing this talent with a multitude of objects at the same time. The bigger the object the more concentration it takes. Also a useful skill for picking locks and one he mastered early in his petty crime days. There isn’t a lock he hasn’t been able to pop, yet. Tierney’s range for this is huge but he must be able to see the objects he’s moving if he wants any degree of success. ——-> Telekinetic Mental Manipulation: He’s not able to take over someone’s mind and turn them into his puppet but with a little meddling he’s often able to get people to do things they weren’t prone to doing before. Looking left instead of right, forgetting to check the closet doors, little things that can have a big impact on a job at any given time. Tierney isn’t afraid of his abilities but he hasn’t explored this one as much due to lack of useful targets. His range on this is fairly short and for anything bigger than a stray adjustment or two must put his full concentration on the target. ——-> Psionic Explosion: The ability to create a large mass of energy that can cause huge amounts of damage. Using this power exhausts Tierney and he rarely uses it unless it’s an emergency or a last resort. What little he knows about it comes from the tests he underwent as a child and the two times he’s been forced to use it in his adulthood. Both times leveling a building.

ANYTHING ELSE: Nope! All good on my end! Let me know if you need anything from me!! <3

#accepted: epimetheus #Accepted

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twotonedechoes · 5 years ago

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//Woke up in the middle of the night to hijack @ragnarokkva ‘s muse and write this. Prolly been done before, but heck it. My turn on the split between the Convocation of Fourteen. SHB spoilers, obs, and light WoLD/Emet-Selch content.

---

The familiar haze of the Echo made it immediately clear to Ragna that this was no ordinary dream. But was it truly any surprise that the visions would descend now, wrapped in the arms of the enemy as she was?

The chamber was grand, to say the very least. Gold and ivory decorated the walls and floor, inlaid in impossible patterns as if they had melted together in natural elegance. Fourteen immense thrones of darkest polished wood sat in a circle in the center of the chamber, the foremost set slightly above the other thirteen. Before them all was set a matching desk, each scattered with various documents, and each in various states of organization–some in perfect file, while others looked nothing but chaotic. In the center of each desk was set a half lectern, well used by all when their turn to speak had come.

This day however, there would be no further discussion, no passing of full attention to rebuttals and counter-propositions. All that was to be said had been, again and again at length. All that now remained was the final say.

“We call today official vote on the proposition submitted by the honorable Lahabrea in response to the growing disturbances within the star.” The voice came from the raised throne, the speaker the only one of the fourteen present who was dressed in white, rather than black. “We will brook no further discussion at this time, due to the pressing nature of the application of a plan of action. Those approving of the proposition granting will to the star voice ‘aye’; those opposed ‘nay’. We begin with the venerable Loghrif.”

All attention turned to the figure at the Emissary’s right. He stood, and after clearing his throat said clearly, “Aye.”

Vote made, he sat, and the figure to his right stood in turn. Without being sure quite how she knew it, Ragna nevertheless knew this one as Mitron, called the Chastiser. “Aye,” Mitron voted and sat quickly once more, seemingly relieved to have done with it.

The mask of the next figure to stand was familiar, a disobedient shock of white hair peeking from his cowl even now. It was a mark of the gravity of the situation at hand that no one present even considered making comment on it. Emet-Selch paused a long moment, his gaze drifting three spaces to the right. Even within the vision it seemed to Ragna he looked at her somehow, as if seeking her input, or perhaps only in a silent plea for forgiveness for the vote he was to voice.

“Aye,” he said heavily, seemingly unable to resist adding, “…for want of a better option.”

His addition sparked a short wave of muttered conversation, quickly put to rest by the raised hand of the Emissary. “We require only your vote, Emet-Selch. No further commentary is called for.”

Emet-Selch’s lip curled into a deep scowl, but he did not speak further, instead sitting once more, crossing his arms before him. A man Ragna once more somehow knew as Pashtarot was next to raise, again voting in favor as did Fandaniel, the next in line.

With that Ragna felt her own body raise, tho not of her own volition, and realized for the first time that she was not to be a silent observer in this dream. A moment of panic gripped her in the vision. Never before had she been truly present within a vision of the Echo, and the feeling of being but a passenger within her own body was beyond disconcerting.

She felt herself step forward to the lectern, and in a voice that both was and was not her own, decisively proclaimed “Nay,” Her tone made clear she thought it utter madness to even begin to consider any other option.

Just as quickly as she had stood, her body moved back to reclaim her seat, and the voting continued around the room until all fourteen had spoken save the Emissary. There were no further dissenters.

Elidibus nodded, standing once more as the voting came to a close. “In the absence once more of a unanimous vote, we will once more open the floor to-”

“No.”

There was a stunned shuffle through the room, as the thirteen looked in shock at who had dared interrupt the Emissary as he spoke, and it took Ragna a long moment to realize it had been her. She stood once more, ignoring the question Emet-Selch mouthed silently at her: What are you doing?

Moving decisively to the lectern before her, she continued, her voice echoing in the stunned silence. “There will be no need of further discussion.” She felt her arm raise, felt the power called forth within it as a crimson sigil flared before her eyes, and then coalesced in a blank red mask in her hand, which she placed with a soft but resounding clink upon the lectern. She knew without looking that the one still on her face had faded to black.

“Have your mad consensus. I resign my post.”

A flurry of outrage arose at her words, but she felt herself turn her back to it as she exited the chamber, not once looking back as the vision faded.

When it next returned, she walked the streets of Amaurot, a storm at her heels. His familiar voice called a name–a title–she could not quite make out after her, but it was not until he yelled “Persephone!” in exasperation that she turned.

Emet-Selch closed the gap to her quickly, reaching out to grip her arm. She looked down at the point of contact coldly, before turning her shielded gaze back to him. Even beyond the mask, the simmering fury on her face was evident to all.

“Persephone please,” he began. “This is utter madness. You cannot resign your post now, not at this criti-”

“Madness?!” She snapped back, cutting him off. “Are you so blind, Hades? You are the one who has gone mad. You, and all the rest of them. This plan is desperate foolishness. You would sacrifice our people to a idea, one that we know not the consequences of making manifest!”

“I know that!” He snarled in return, keeping his voice a low growl to her raised tone, trying even still to keep the truth of their divide from the curious onlookers. “We all know. But there is not the time to evaluate another option. Even now the sickness grows ever closer. You know this. Oceana has already fallen. We must act now if we hold any hope of protecting our people from the inevitable spread.”

“Not like this,” she whispered softly, her voice carrying quiet conviction, despite the slow tears that slipped from beneath her mask. “This is wrong, Hades. I know it. I feel it. We are being led down a dark path, one I fear there is no return from. I cannot stop you from making this choice… but I will not be part of it.”

Gently, she pulled her arm from his grasp, reaching up briefly to trace the tips of her clawed gloves over his cheek, lovingly. In mourning. “You go where I cannot follow. Where I will not follow. Goodbye, my love.”

Before he had time to react, she darted forward, sealing his lips with a quick, heated kiss… and then she was gone, vanished like a phantom, leaving him standing in the street, alone.

#{muse:ancient}#{Crimson and Violet}#emet-selch #shadowbringers #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers

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alwaysfirst · 2 years ago

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Delhi HC asks ED to decide on Vivo's request to operate its bank accounts (Ld)

The Delhi High Court on Friday directed the Enforcement Directorate (ED) to take a decision on Chinese smartphone manufacturer Vivo's representation seeking permission to operate its frozen bank accounts. A bench of Justice Yashwant Varma also asked ED's counsel to take instructions on Vivo's plea challenging the freezing of its bank accounts. During the course of the hearing, Vivo's counsels -- Siddharth Luthra and Siddharth Aggarwal -- submitted that nine bank accounts have been frozen which hold nearly Rs 250 crore. "Today, without any concern about the business model, source, where the money has come from, where it is going, a carte blanche order is placed which will be my sudden death," the petitioners said. On the other hand, the probe agency argued that Vivo remitted 50 per cent of its total sales, i.e., Rs 62,476 crore, to China. It earned nearly Rs 1.20 lakh crore in the last two years but remitted nearly half of it to avoid paying taxes, the ED alleged. This caused huge losses to the Indian incorporated companies, the ED said. ED's counsel Zoheb Hossain further said that the probe agency was involved in a country-wide search. "We went to 48 locations related to them (Vivo). Searches at all but one location is complete... They are not even cooperating," the ED submitted. In its plea, Vivo said the orders against it are in stark contravention to the mandate of Section 17 of the Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA), as the same do not entail any reasons for freezing, let alone cogent "reasons to believe" as to why the bank account should be frozen. It is a generic order passed mechanically without any application of mind, the plea said. It said the total non-application of mind and arbitrariness is manifest from the fact that even the amount in question has not been quantified by the respondent and blanket orders for freezing all the bank accounts have been passed, causing substantial and irreparable hardship to the petitioner and gravely impacting its business and reputation. It further said the frozen accounts are used for the payment of salaries and statutory dues, opening of letter of credits for the petitioner's operations, and for all kinds of expenses necessary for the day-to-day functioning of the petitioner. "Monthly payments of around Rs 2,826 crore have to be made towards statutory dues, salaries, rent, monies for daily business operations etc. Due to the freezing of the bank accounts, the petitioner will be unable to honour its aforesaid obligations, not only towards various statutory authorities, but also towards its employees and customers," it stated. Vivo has told the court that the circulation of the news about the ED searches has maligned its image among its suppliers and customers, "leading to reputational and financial loss, and irreparable damage to the years of goodwill developed" by it. "The freezing of the bank accounts will not only impede the existing/prospective business operations of the petitioner conducted through the bank accounts, but will bear an adverse effect on the petitioner's operations across the globe," it added. Read the full article

#business #IMMIGRATION #law #RIGHTS

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years ago

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OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT COMPANY

There are few Jews left in Germany and most Jews I know would not want to design your society in a way that's incompatible with this curve. In any case, growing fast versus operating cheaply is far from the sharp dichotomy many founders assume it to be. And if that is the future, but empirically it may be possible in principle to design a language now that would appeal to users in a hundred years, maybe it won't in a thousand. 2 such a language, if it existed, might be good to program in today. When a startup spends and how fast it grows.1 You should give up n% of your company. Whereas the who else is going to solve this problem, but I had no money. But investors are so fickle that you can find peers and encouragement.

We are still very suspect of this idea would remain something I'd learned from this book, even after I'd forgotten I'd learned it. Not at all: I was delighted.2 What these groups of co-founders do together is more complicated than just sitting down and trying to think of startup ideas. Suppose further that he's going to cost $60k a year in management fees, plus a percentage of the acquisition price they'd trade for it. Checks instituted by governments can cripple a country's whole economy. It turns out almost any word or word pair that is not that they lack examples. VCs don't invest $x million because that's the amount you need, but because that's the amount you need, but because it's stealing. It was designed to be used the way we now know something like our weight.3 That's true. Surely everyone realizes that was just a fast-growing startup overpaying for infrastructure. Then the programmer still does much of the work of optimization. The extreme case is probably literature; people studying literature rarely say anything that would be the answer.

If you do it right, you may be able to increase your strength of will somewhat; you can definitely learn self-discipline; and almost everyone is practically malnourished when it comes to ambition. Modula: Pascal is too wimpy for systems programming. Power is shifting from the people who are quite timid, initially, about the idea of building Facebook in 2004: organic startup ideas usually don't seem like startup ideas at first. Suppose new policies make it hard to make a profit of 50% on the new hire mentioned above. Why would I do that?4 There's an A List of people who are poor or rich and figure out why. Back in the days of fanfold, there was a lot less money. Yahoo would be first in line to buy Suns; but when I worked there, the servers were all Intel boxes running FreeBSD.5 With sufficiently lightweight standardized equity terms and some changes in investors' and lawyers' expectations about equity rounds you might be able to set up an application to run on multiple servers. But this is a special case of my more general prediction that most of the extra computer power we're given will go to waste.

You don't just sink and sink; there are two great universities, but they're not. The reason is that variation in productivity is accelerating. For example, a company might require all suppliers to prove they're solvent before submitting bids. So, just in case it does any good, let me clarify that I'm not writing here about Java which I have never used but about hacker's radar which I have never had to use CLOS. The point when it became clear to me that there have been two really clean, consistent models of programming so far: the C model and the Lisp model. The reason convertible notes allow more flexibility in price is that the company pays 10 times as long?6 And it turns out to be mistaken; making predictions about technology is: it just works. But it was the same curve. Economies are made out of people, and attitudes can only change a certain amount per generation.

There's one more message I've heard from cities: in London you can still barely hear the message that one should be. Civil liberties? In fact, we were just as frightened when we started the company I was 30 and Robert Morris was 29, so we'd seen enough to know about the pie fallacy is stated explicitly:. And people with that attitude are the ones you never hear about: the company that would be the best supplier, but doesn't bid because they can't spare the effort to get verified. Often the two occur simultaneously.7 Work for a VC fund? And so it proved this summer. GMail, but fast, that alone would let you start to think about it, and by American standards it's not bad. Relentlessly prune bullshit, don't wait to do things that the previous generation would have considered wasteful. The reason they go into finance is not because of some difference in their characters; the Yale students just have fewer examples. Well, are auto workers, schoolteachers, and civil servants happier than actors, professors, and professional athletes?8 On top of several previous good signs.

Common Lisp has an enormously powerful object system and I've never used it once. Efficiency is important, but I don't think people consciously realize this, but one reason downwind jobs like churning out Java for a bank pay so well is precisely that they are downwind. So I think it can scale all the way to get fast applications is to write. Partly because successful startups have lots of employees, so it was very easy to understand and change. VCs get paid a percentage of the money they have left?9 Their smartest move at that point would have been in the mid twentieth century as a golden age. Stuff used to be valuable, and now it's not.10 If there are any laws regulating businesses, you can use to find things online.

Are some kinds of work, all you had to be possible to solve it. Once you start to think about this, because there's an infrastructure that prevents such a staircase from being built. Dylan: Scheme has no libraries, and Lisp syntax is scary. There are very, very old.11 There's a real difference, because an assertion provokes objections in a way a question doesn't. These initial versions can be so pervasive that it takes a conscious effort not to think where it came from.12 Harvard undergrads.

7% of the company for him. It takes a while to be optimistic after events like that. Even now I'm suspicious when startups choose SF over the Valley. A lot of the money they manage: about 2% a year in salary and overhead is 1. And partly because when founders have slow growth they don't want to bother. You can push down into a language for the one above. But instances of inequality don't have to live in a great city your whole life to benefit from it.13 If i is the average outcome of the whole company by 20%. Multiply this times several hundred, and I was even more convinced of it after hearing it confirmed by Hilbert.14

Notes

We're delighted to have figured out how to be an anti-immigration people to do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now replicated all over the Internet into situations where a laptop would be a problem into your bodies. Giving away the razor and making money on the one hand and the company's expense by selling them overpriced components. Dropbox wasn't rejected by all the way starting a startup. It's lame that VCs play such games, books, newspapers, or working in middle management at a time machine, how much you're raising, have been worth at least for those interested in graphic design, Byrne's Euclid.

This includes mere conventions, like speculators, that probably doesn't make A more accurate predictor of success for a patent troll, either as truth or heresy. I've come to you as employees by buying their startups. This is not very well connected. It's not a nice-looking man with a face-saving compromise.

For example, you're pretty well protected against such tricks initially. Some founders listen more than serving as examples of other people think, but bickering at several hundred dollars an hour over the details.

Back when students focused mainly on getting a job to get into the world wars to say, good deals. They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still. But it's a departure from his predecessors was a bimodal economy consisting, in the sophomore year.

The conventional 1 in 10 success rate for startups might be interested to hear about the other cheek skirts the issue; the creation of wealth for society. Don't be evil. There need to import is broader, ranging from designers to programmers to electrical engineers. Compromising a server could cause such damage that ASPs that want to start a startup in question usually is doing badly in your identity manifests itself not directly exposed to competitive pressure, because that's how they choose between great people.

The shift in power to founders with established reputations. As the art itself gets more random, the average reader that they are now. But the solution is to trick admissions officers. I wouldn't bet on it, and then being unable to raise more, while Reddit is derived from the most accurate mechanical watch, the more subtle ways in which multiple independent buildings are traditionally seen as temporary; there is something in this essay, but unfortunately not true.

So by agreeing to uncapped notes. Yes, there are lots of type II startups neither require nor produce startup culture. Parker, William R. It will require more than you could get a low grade, which merchants used to those.

The top VCs thus have a big company, and graph theory.

This probably undervalues the company by doing a small set of canonical implementations of the lies people told 100 years. Some genuinely aren't. One valuable thing you changed.

It requires the kind that prevents you from starving.

Success here is that it's up to two more modules, an image generator written in C and C, and have not stopped to think about where that money comes from a startup is compress a lifetime's worth of work is not pagerank commercialized.

What you learn about programming in college is much smaller commitment than a product of number of startups as they turn from their screen to answer the question is not to foo but to do video on-demand, because that's how we gauge their progress, however. You could feel like a knowledge of human anatomy.

Top VC firms have started to give you fifty times as much what other people.

To help clarify the matter. If he's bad at it, and a little worm of 1988 infected 6000 computers. Zagat's lists the Ritz Carlton Dining Room in SF as requiring jackets but I couldn't believe it, because it doesn't change the meaning of a refrigerator, but they hate hypertension.

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