#his memories were the most precious / personal data: locked

[cruelset]

I FOUND THESE in an old chat, and i really want to have this documented in order to expand on nines’ replicant verse. pls don’t correct me on replicant lore if u know more than me i am sensitive LMAO (meaning it’s been 3457 years since i’ve played it, so if anything doesn’t make sense/goes against canon, then close ur eyes pls . . . . . . . . . i’m sensitive)

but one thing i hc for this verse is that nines (named kurou) is considered to be THE first replicant to gain sentience; he likely carried over some traits from the original soul that was separated from him that ultimately caused him to deviate (immense curiosity, intellect, etc). I say this also because of my self indulgent need to connect this to the reason why yorha scanner types are modeled the way they are in the future :') 

he was still young when Gestalt was put into place- naturally bc of the class war thrusted upon Japan in lieu of civil wars and Gestalt itself, he was far from the first to go through with the process but was eventually put through as many others did.

His "gestalt" wasn't really anyone important, he was just some rowdy kid who always stuck his nose in other people's business lol so I would say it was more of a spontaneous miracle that his replicant had gained sentience before anyone else.

 As a vessel, they're not exactly made with the knowledge of a higher purpose. They aren't exactly equipped with the means to wonder what the meaning of life is. It began as an observation made by a single replicant. Soon, it became a thought. Then a voice. Suddenly it was a pandemic of consciousness. This was something that was unknowingly bound to happen, especially as empty bodies going so long without souls. 

This calls to question the end of Project Gestalt since now that PG was in complete ruin since vessels were able to QUESTION THEIR REALITY, there was no longer the ability to rejoin souls back to their bodies. 

I would say it was definitely noticed by observer androids too, which eventually led to making scanner models in his likeness. It was discouraged to get rid of him because of that since it went against the ultimate purpose of saving humanity, but the existence of a sentient replicant itself went against PG in its entirety- but again by this time, PG was doomed to fail and so raising these replicants within their own societies and communities designed after already-extinct humanity was best choice after PG came to its end.

 And as they start with a blank slate, Kurou was "reborn" so to speak, in the outskirts of Façade. There were many village units in the desert that didn't quite follow the practices of the Kingdom but lived closely to the culture. 

 As he grew older, he kind of moved away from that part of home and decided to expand his horizons a bit and now resides at the Seafront. Spends his days fishin n getting in everybody's business LMAO

TLDR; mans just opened his eyes one day and thought about "society"

[comfy-whumpee]

Rozen 7: Recovery

CN: the second part of this is set in a hospital. One more tag for @sola-whumpings-primary-blog, thank you for being my tag list for this arc.

He’s a little bundle of thin limbs in the corner of the sofa, slim hands bunching the blanket around his chest. His eyes fix tightly onto his saviour, barely blinking, as though the brief closure of his eyes would make this disappear. Among the deep red wool around him, his skin is pale, his burns highlighted, and his hair a sunset complement to the colours.

Alistair is so glad that he waited to find someone this pretty.

“Again, sweetness.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

The words flow. Ellis’s voice is a tap, turned on and off at Alistair’s will, and what comes out is also under his control. Ellis’s own thoughts are not part of the equation, today.

“Once more.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

“Good boy. What did that awful detective say to you?”

Brown eyes go from distant. “I don’t...remember,” Ellis says softly.

He does. He will. There’s only so much that terror can do to push away unwanted thoughts. But he hasn’t slept since he was taken, under Alistair’s command, and he barely ate, and spent so much time listening to the voice in his head, on the last of his three days away, that most of the work is already done.

What memories do remain – you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have to do what he says, you deserve to be free – will fade in time.

“When those nasty words trouble you again, just think about your rules,” Alistair says. When Ellis nods, he smiles, and finally sits down beside him on the sofa. The speed at which Ellis curls against him is gratifying, and Alistair wraps an arm around him, letting him hide his face. “Now, do you have any more questions?”

Ellis swallows, and then nods, cheek grazing along Alistair’s collarbone through his shirt.

He’s so sweet. Alistair runs fingers into his hair. “Go ahead, precious thing.”

He hesitates, but he often does that. He prepares his words, so that there is no stutter. Alistair can’t stand stuttering. “Master, were they – a good person?”

A difficult question. Alistair smiles, still stroking through Ellis’s hair, feeling how the attention keeps him relaxed, even as he navigates the bewildering experience of being rescued from a place he wants to be. “They thought they were doing a good thing,” he acknowledges, “because they didn’t know what you are. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Other people won’t understand. They may even say I am bad, for helping you.”

Ellis shrinks against his captor, shaking his head a little.

“Shh, it’s alright. I know. We both know it’s not true, that I am only helping you as best I can.”

Cheek skims upwards to press against Alistair’s neck, Ellis nodding again, and Alistair smiles.

“But as I promised, I won’t tell them. I won’t tell anyone what you are. As long as you are safe, here with me.”

The faint vibration of a whimper crosses from Ellis’s chest to Alistair’s, and he smiles. Ellis makes no sound even in moments like these, when Alistair lays out the story of his self-hatred so plainly.

“We’re just lucky no one was hurt while they had you locked away from me,” he sighs. He wishes he’d had the chance to go out, but it was critical to get Ellis back before his family arrived. “Someone could have been really hurt.”

Another silent whimper, and Ellis nods again, clinging tighter to the only security he has left.

Alistair smiles. There’s always a silver lining.

-

The important thing is that the clients don’t know their ribs are broken. Video calls are good for that. A nice neutral background, enough pillows that they don’t hurt, and they’ll never know Rozen is in hospital right now.

“As we discussed, I held him in a secondary location as a precaution against retaliation,” they explain carefully, keeping their breaths deep and even. “That precaution proved justified. We had three incidents of Engels coming to reclaim him. The last one, I’m sorry to say, was successful. He brought armed men with him. Ellis was not harmed in the process.”

On one side of the screen is Nic, who looks very concerned, clearly picking up on what they’ve left unsaid. Ellis’s parents are on the other side, in their living room together, fixated on the news of their son.

“I want to reassure you that, aside from the burns we are aware of already, Ellis is not injured. From my understanding, he is kept comfortable. However, I can also confirm now without a doubt that Nic’s understanding of his situation is correct.”

Rozen isn’t blind to the rift between Ellis’s two support groups. It’s...a headache. They hope to lay it to rest.

“Engels treats him like a pet. A human pet. His violence is psychological, and Ellis displays clear Stockholm syndrome. I have some other suspicions, but I will discuss those with you later in person. I found no evidence of Nic’s involvement in the abduction.”

Nic’s face folds in relief. Ellis’s parents seem not to notice. “What do we do now?” Siobhan asks.

In the corner of their eye, they see a pale blue figure enter the doorway. The nurse is coming back up the ward. Rozen has to make this quick.

“I will be looking into the armed men he brought with him. I believe his mob connections are stronger than they initially appeared. Once I can establish his resources, I can find a way to stay out of his reach. The next time I rescue him, we will make it stick.”

“Thank you,” Nic and Joe say simultaneously.

“Excuse me?” the nurse calls. “Is that a phone?”

Rozen drags up their mouth into a smile. “I’ll speak with you soon.”

They hang up, drop their phone into their lap, and lift up the e-reader they have instead, wincing as the movement shifts their ribs. The nurse comes closer, squints suspiciously, and then sighs and moves along.

Rozen settles down with the local crime data for this area, and begins highlighting sections that reference the mob. Dates, locations, and names. Bennett, Vera, Kerry, Crossland. They know how to do this. They will do this.

They’re getting Ellis back. Come hell or high water.

[sky-scribbles]

Have some Sidestep backstory angst... which becomes Chargestep softness, with a certain reveal getting a good ending. ~1400 words, nb!Sidestep x m!Ortega. Many, many Retribution spoilers. Tw for the kind of dehumanising treatment implicit in Sidestep's backstory. 

You’ll remember this, always. Being born.

Out of the warm dark, you surface into the cold, the light, the hands. It’s this – the hands – that you’ll remember most. Hands that clasp tight and pull hard, dragging you upright in the same moment that you fill your lungs for the first time. No chance to flounder and cry like any new-born, because the hands are on you, holding you still.

Faces swim around you. Bodies in white coats crowd you. Mouths make short, clipped vocalisations.

Buried deep in your newly-awake brain, a chip stirs into activity, supplying you with the information you should have learned over fifteen years of childhood that you will never have. Your binary systems match the sounds to entries in a data bank - and suddenly the vocalisations are more than noise. Over the sound of your own wailing, you hear words for the first time.

What you hear is this: ‘For fuck’s sake. Someone shut it up.’

You are born like everyone else, screaming.

Unlike everyone else, you will remember why you screamed.

You will also remember this: new hands on your skin, different hands. Careful hands. Ortega’s.

His fingertip trails over your skin, following the lines of your tattoos like a child with a puzzle book tracing a path through a maze. And you let him. Hunched on the couch beside him, you let him do it. You’re light-headed, your muscles pulled taut by nervous energy, but every time Ortega’s finger finds the end of another tattoo path, your breathing grows a little steadier.

He traces over the series of concentric circles stamped on your shoulder, reaches the end, and looks up at you. ‘Do they do this right away? After you’re…’

‘Decanted.’

His lips press into a terse line. ‘I’m not calling it that. You’re a person, not a wine.’

Your lip twitches, but you’re still too jittery to laugh. Jittery, because you… let him see you. You let him see you and he still wants you here. In his home, in his life. With your skin under his hands.

He’s touched you before, of course, and in ways that made you even more light-headed than this – but that was in the dark. He was in the dark, in more ways than one. He didn’t know what he was touching then, and now the light is unflinching and merciless upon your markings. And he’s still resting scarred, careful fingers on your skin.

Which is a lot to process, so you don’t. For now, you focus on what he said, what he asked you. ‘It’s… it’s just what it’s called. We’re not born. What else are you going to call it?’

Another moment of silence; then he grins. You know his grins, and this one’s the sad-eyed one. The one he uses when he needs to make something funny before it can start hurting too much. ‘Your name’s Wren, so… hatched?’

You still can’t laugh, but you manage an eye-roll and a faint snort. ‘Idiot. And to answer your question, no. The tattoos come later, once they’ve figured out what abilities we have.’  Your hands knot together in your lap. ‘Guess I should be thankful for small mercies. Being decanted was shitty enough without being given the tattoos right after.’

His hands freeze. ‘You remember it? Being taken out of the tank?’

‘Sure. We’d be no use to them if we weren’t born with minds. We’re programmed with skills, knowledge of how to move and speak. They even give us artificial memories, so we feel like we’ve had a life.’ This time you do laugh, a hollow sound that drags itself up from your chest. ‘Makes it worse, really.’

‘Worse?’

‘Being born. It makes it worse.’ You don’t look at him, because his eyes are too full of concern and you don’t know how to deal with that, not like this, not from people who know. ‘I went from not being conscious of anything to… suddenly having to process the whole world at once. It’s different to being born like - like humans. Real people barely have any senses at first, and their brains can hardly process the sensory input they do get. But me, I felt everything. Everything. All my senses were working and my brain was telling me I’d been alive for fifteen years and it was feeding me memories that felt real but which I knew weren’t true because I was being born right there, right then.’

Your hands are shaking. You clasp them tighter together, hard enough that it’s painful – and then you stop. Relax. Because you don’t have to cling to yourself for comfort anymore. You have another option.

So you uncurl your fingers – they’re sweat-sticky and stiff – and reach for Ortega.

He slips his hands over yours and holds. Still gentle. Careful. You close your eyes and focus on the feel of his skin over yours, for one second, two, three. The shaking slows, and finally it stops.

‘You’re okay,’ he whispers, and maybe he’s even right.

‘I was screaming.’ The words slip out like sobs, and you didn’t mean to say them but Ortega knows what you are and he’s cradling your hands in his anyway, and it’s making everything burst out of you. ‘I didn’t know how to stop. And they ran their tests on me and put me in their uniform and locked me in a cell and I’d just been born. I mean. Not born. But –’

Oh. You’re crying now. But it’s okay, because Ortega’s still holding your hands, even lifting one to kiss your knuckles ever so gently. Thumb stroking your fingers, breath against your skin, and you don’t to be able to read his mind, because you can feel how sorry he is through the soft press of his lips. How much he hates that he wasn’t there for you back when you were new-born and screaming.

And the absurdity of Ortega kissing your vat-grown hand stuns all the wary tension right out of you, so you lean into his arms and let him pull you against him. His arms close tight and warm around your back (hands against your tattoos, touching them, not flinching away from them) as you cough out words.

‘I can still see them looking at me. The way they always looked at me, every moment I was in that place. Indifferent. So I couldn’t forget what I was. What I am. A machine, a tool, a weapon, a thing, and they looked at me like that from the moment I was made–’

So different to how Ortega looked at you, back when you were a faceless vigilante and he was grinning at you, cracking jokes to make you open up and stop running away from him. So different to how he’s looking at you now, like you’re something precious. Something sacred, something worthy of soft touches and warm arms.

‘Most people get to be… held. When they’re born. Comforted.’ You mumble the words against his shoulder, because if you muffle yourself maybe the words won’t twist into sobs. ‘Why didn’t I get that? I mean, I know why, but… why did it have to be me?’

A shudder runs through Ortega’s body, and his arms close around you a little tighter. ‘You get it now.’

It’s late. He’s late.

But there’s a time and a place to resent him, and it isn’t now. Shit, you don’t want it to be now. You want to give yourself this moment with him in the light, like you gave yourself that first night in the dark. Pretend that his ignorance and drawn blinds can keep the inevitable at bay.

Because maybe this is what being a person is. Letting yourself change as the world changes around you, letting yourself be born again. You’ve had so rebirths in your life already – your escape, your debut as Sidestep, your first meeting with Ortega, your first battle as Myriad. You’ve been born again and again, been broken and made new over and over.

So you want this moment. One more rebirth for the list: Ortega’s arms around you and his breathing stirring your hair. Once again, you’re surfacing into a life that’s bright and frightening and different, because you have no idea what your life looks like in a world where Ortega knows.

But this time, you’re being held through it. Soothed.

This time, it’s a birth you want to remember.

[kitt-rider]

my emotional journey of the episode ‘knightmares’. i have A Lot To Say

so kitt and michael’s first interaction after michael loses his memory is this

kitt: michael? michael please, stop! it's me! kitt! *chase ensues, kitt leaps over something to get to michael* michael: *shoots at kitt in panic* alright out! hands away from your body! kitt: this is not quite the reunion i'd hoped for michael... michael: i said; get out of the car! kitt, sounding hurt: michael, have you really forgotten me? michael: has small flashbacks to kitt jumping kitt: are you alright? michael: no! no, i'm confused! nothing makes sense to me any more, this face, is not my face! my whole world has disappeared and now i'm talking to a car kitt: i think i can explain everything, michael michael: how do you know my name? kitt: we're partners you and i, we're a team. please, let me help you. get in michael: no thanks kitt: as you pointed out, i'm only a car. please. trust me 

and it. it’s a lot. there’s so much emotion in kitt’s voice here, like. something i’ve noticed is that they’ve grown so close that if they’re apart for too long, or don’t know what the other is doing or where they are or how they are, they freak out. if the watch breaks, or loses connection, they get really thrown off kilter, both of them. they’re so entwined that they feel lost without the other, as though they’ve become two halves of a whole. 

kitt sounds really hurt when he realises michael has forgotten him. this is the most human we’ve seen kitt so far, not that he hasn’t been before, but the emotional range in his vocals are just. they’re so raw and it’s so clear to anyone, even if this were to be the only episode they watched, that the two of them have something really special, that the two of them love each other. but then michael has little flashes of kitt jumping. it starts to come back to him. this is a big deal because it’s the first instance of him remembering something. kitt is so deeply embedded in him that his brain automatically responds quicker and easier to kitt, and kitt is a stronger trigger than anything else has been so far. 

kitt speaks very softly, coaxing michael with gentle words of love. the “trust me” absolutely killed me, idk why. maybe because michael DID end up trusting kitt and getting in, or maybe because it was just the gentleness of kitt’s words. i just. hnnnng.

so then michael gets in, freaks out, they go to the foundation, devon and april try to talk to him, they can’t, so he leaves. kitt follows. and the next interaction is this

*kitt is following michael who wants him to go, eventually they stop and michael opens the door* michael: i'd tell you to get this through your head but you're a machine, so run this through your data processor. get lost! kitt: i can't do that michael. i'm programmed to respond to your needs. despite your being unaware of it, you need me! michael: what if i don't want you? kitt: ...i suppose i'll be quite hurt  michael: ...alright. it is pretty hard to get around without a set of wheels. alright. i drive from here on kitt: absolutely. providing you'll promise me one thing michael: what? kitt: please do not refer to me as a car, or a set of wheels. it's most demeaning. i'm the knight industries two thousand. *wistfully* you always called me kitt...

OOF!!! mega oof! kitt can't stand michael calling him a machine because it's not right, his michael always treats him as a person, always calls him kitt, always refers to him as if he were a human bc kitt does have a soul, and he has personality like one. he's not used to michael being so standoffish and mean (although it's not really michael's fault since he's probably freaking out, and also it's like he's reverted to when he first met kitt when he didn't understand that kitt isn't just a machine) so he's. hurt. and his voice is all soft and wistful. it hurts for michael to refer to him as “machine” or even a “car”, because for so long michael has called him buddy, pal, or kitt, as kitt himself said. and it’s important to kitt that that continues, because he loves michael very much, and the thought that their relationship might not be as close as it once was is something he can’t bear. 

and then they drive and all that, we get michael literally calling kitt hot, and kitt smugly replying that he knows. and then on the way, more conversation and. 

michael: you know it's a terrible feeling, every time i pass a mirror or i see a reflection in the window... i see a stranger's face kitt: i wish i could help you regain your memory. especially your memory of ME. ...we have quite a history together

GOD. it's so much. it's all so much!!!!! kitt is desperate for michael to remember him, not just cause he's programmed for michael's sake, but bc he wants michael to remember him specifically, as he says. kitt is going all ways out of professional this episode, and his voice is just. especially when he says the history part, it's so, so soft and full of love and yearning. i can't get over them, honestly. the episodes where kitt is reprogrammed or removed from the car and where michael loses his memory are quickly becoming my favourites, mostly bc there's so much affection and love between them in it. like. their bond is so strong, and these episodes like to prove that that bond breaks through everything.

kitt wouldn’t say he wanted michael to specifically remember him over everything else if it were simply his programming/in a professional sense, which means he wants michael to remember him for HIM. because having a human he’s imprinted on so much feel indifferent to him is just awful, and insulting to the hell and high water they went through.

gahhhh and then! they get to the dam and michael gets in trouble, and goes “kitt! i need you!” and kitt excitedly goes “it’s about time!” AND I!!!! aside from the fact that “i need you” as a general phrase is A Lot to me, because i associate it with “i love you” and in fact, sometimes i need you is even more of a romantic gesture to say than i love you, it’s just so sweet how excited kitt is that things are falling back into place, that his michael is his michael again, and they’ll be a team once more.

then they head off, and kitt shows off his analyser and michael. “you.. .are a regular wonder on wheels, aren’t you?” and kitt “i like to think so”

AND THEN. AND THEN?!

michael: kitt? you said you knew me before the accident. what was michael knight like? kitt, softly and full of love: michael knight was bright, agile, often quite logical. he was also stubborn, impatient, readily distracted by pretty girls. and he listened to possibly the most appalling music to ever shatter my airwaves michael: sounds like my kinda guy kitt: yes that’s what i’m afraid of

and this interaction is so... affectionate? so loving. even though michael is still trying to remember, he smiles automatically, even jokes around a little. kitt analyses the material and then michael says he’s impressed. and then i get a damn BOMB dropped on me.

michael: kane’s? i’m impressed! i mean how does a chemical analyser identify a store? kitt: it didn’t! there’s a card inside michael, smiling: good work kitt kitt: oh one other thing about michael knight michael: what’s that? kitt: i was extremely fond of him

like. i have no words. it’s all right there. i can’t really say any more than what kitt did. and he says it as though it’s a fact. he says it as a way to describe michael, bc now, kitt is a part of michael, and everything that embodies him. kitt loves michael, and it’s a fact. it’s an identifier of who michael knight is. michael knight is someone kitt loves very much.

michael tries to get into a building that’s locked. kitt unlocks it

michael: should i say thanks? kitt: if you do i’ll say ‘you’re welcome’ michael: thanks! kitt; de nada (no problem, no need for thanks, you’re welcome)

god! can they BE any cuter? their interactions are so precious. 

once again we get an “i need you” from michael. i love that. it looks like from now on, that will be a regular thing, bc michael’s only just started saying it a couple of eps ago. something else i love is that the two of them fit back together quickly and easily. they’re already acting as a unit/as they did before not long after they’ve started working together again. they also bicker again, and it falls naturally into place.

michael: i got a hunch that door is not gonna stand in our way kitt: michael this is beginning to sound like old times! 

and then

that’s michael’s expression in response. a warm, wide smile. things are coming together again. he’s starting to remember kitt.

AND THEN

kitt: michael i pride myself on never pointing out the obvious, but i’m afraid we’re driving into a trap michael: i’m not worried kitt, i have an edge. a secret weapon kitt: really? what is it? michael: you

and then kitt blushes!!! for sure! there’s no other way to see it! he’s blushing not only from being a little flustered that michael’s praising him like he did before, but also because even a little while of michael not being affectionate and loving towards him was awful and he’s so happy that michael is becoming more and more like his old self again that his “cheeks” glow with happiness. ugghgngn!!! god. so much! they are so much, and so in love.

so the girl is saved and everything is well. he regains his memory, and we end on michael and kitt being all domestic and married-coupley.

kitt: welcome back michael. i thought as a little present i’d play you some of that appalling music you like so much michael: thanks buddy. come on. let’s shatter some airwaves! *music plays* michael: you know i was thinking. i could have april install an electronic board here and she could hook it up to your speakers kitt: michael? michael: yeah? kitt: don’t press your luck michael: whatever you say pal, whatever you say

AND!! THAT IS JUST SO. coupley! hhhhhhh. and ofc, michael will take kitt on vacation. i was wondering for a moment if he wouldn’t, but that was dumb. of course michael will take kitt with him! he can’t stand to be apart from him! they both can’t stand it!

god. i kind of want to write a little ficlet of the vacay, and i probably will, because i am SO full of fluff. golly. what an episode! michael and kitt are in love and as the show goes on that just becomes more and more apparent <3

[tonystarktogo]

Finally, the second part of Part II: [Or read the whole chapter on AO3]

Most of Tony’s tech — the really good, impressive stuff that would be illegal to keep in your basement if anyone knew that Tony keeps it in his basement — is locked away in his workshop. A hidden room in the basement — because clichés have survived for a reason and Tony would build himself a laguna filled with flesh-eating piranha if he thought he could get away with it — that can only be accessed via a biometric scan, four separate passwords and a security question posed by JARVIS. [The answer to said question is irrelevant, considering acceptance depends on voice recognition, voice modulation and the fact that you have to sing your answer. Not that Tony is paranoid or anything but JARVIS.]

continues below the cut

But because Tony is a sensible person [and would rather carve out his own heart with a screwdriver than lead some unknown assassin with unclear motivations straight to his best, most precious inventions, his family] he’s stuck with the official computer in his office. It’s as up-to-date as can be, of course. Even has some nifty improvements and upgrades that probably violate some terms of agreement or another, but it’s still not the same thing. It can’t match JARVIS’ processing power, for one, and also, it doesn’t joke back. 

Tony has nothing if not high expectations when it comes to his tech.

The USB stick Agent-Definitely-Not-J has handed him is a bit of a nightmare — that’s the only bright side on this whole disaster of a night. Say what you want, but Tony delights in a challenge and the program on this USB stick presents him with one. There aren’t just multiple layers of encryption Tony has to crack, there’s also two separate failsafes in place that will wipe the information if triggered. It’s decent coding — again, Tony is a bit of a snob when it comes to these things — and makes good work of the onion concept. Tony could probably lose himself in this, play around a little with the code, see what else it can do, if he wasn’t hyper-aware of the armed asshole glowering at the screen over his shoulder.

Harry Tasker Version 2.0 doesn’t appear to be as fluent in coding as Tony is — few people are, and the guy wouldn’t be here in the first place if he didn’t need Tony’s help, that much is clear — but Tony suspects that he gets a lot more than he lets on. Not stupid, this guy. Not stupid at all.

It’s a shame his manners are a lost cause.

[There’s a gun aimed at the back of Tony’s head that he’s doing a marvelous job of pretending not to notice. Cleary, Red October has never learned how to play nice. Still, this isn’t the first time Tony’s been held at gunpoint. It’s not even the first time someone has been stupid enough to threaten Tony in his own home. And he would have retaliated already, except— 

If Steve’s really in trouble — is dead — then Tony needs to know. Getting the information home-delivered is a lot easier and less traceable than alternative methods he’d have to use. And besides just because you have a few aces up your sleeve doesn’t mean you shouldn’t play along when it suits you. Because contrary to what Mister Stane liked to accuse him of, Tony is anything but stupid. This James guy has shown up out of the blue, grief and fury at war in his eyes, but that doesn’t mean anything. That doesn’t mean James might not be the person that killed Steve — or is currently hunting him.]

“Who was Steve working for?” Tony asks eventually, leans back into his seat with a sigh and watches his latest program work its magic.

Wannabe-Bond has been careful not to let any names slip so far. On the one hand, that seems like a sensible precaution, if what Tony suspects turns out to be true. [There’s many ABC agencies civilians aren’t supposed to know more about than the occasional rumor or scandal. And then there’s SHIELD, the governments’ preferred way of keeping their hands squeaky clean and burying all their ugly secrets and inconvenient truths in the seedy underbelly of an organization that doesn’t even exists. Not that Tony would know anything about that one, of course.] On the other hand, the truth will likely come out anyway once Tony gets his hand on the data on this stick. And there’s no question that he will get the data— only how long it will take him and how hard he’ll have to work for it.

Tony can feel the Mission-Impossible-Character’s calculating stare on the back of his head, measuring him. He refuses to turn around and meet those cold eyes. It’s easier to keep his voice even when he doesn’t. 

“You don’t want to know.”

And well, that’s not exactly an answer that inspires confidence in you. It’s also a pathetic threat as far as those go. Tony narrows his eyes. If there’s one thing that ticks him off, it’s not being taken serious. So this is how you wanna play it, big boy? Fine. Let’s play.

Opening another three taps almost simultaneously, Tony starts typing again. Faster this time. He switches back and forth between the different programs — most of them trying to isolate the program on the USB stick, ensuring that it doesn’t do anything, attacking the outer layers of the encryption. One of them though is a tiny program Tony has designed to be compatible with every computer system he could think of — and all it really does is communicate with JARVIS. Because, as Tony likes to remind Rhodey regularly, what’s the point in building Skynet if you don’t have it on your side? For some reason, his bet friend doesn’t find that joke as funny as Tony. But then Rhodey knows him better than most people— knows what he can do.

"What’cha doin’?" Wannabe-Bond’s drawled question interrupts Tony’s internal ramblings. He does’t look interested in the answer though, isn’t even looking at the screen any longer. Though where he pulled the knife from that he’s flipping around with his left hand, Tony doesn’t want to know.

"What does it look like I’m doing?" 

The words come out too sharp, too harsh. A testament to his fraying nerves perhaps. Either way, Tony bites his lip, but refuses to take them back. He’s not a pushover, and it takes more than a home visit from an assassin to change that. Besides it’s not like spending time with Steve felt anything less than juggling flamethrowers while standing ankle-deep in gunpowder.

"Are you all bark or can you actually back that big mouth of yours up?" Killer-Cat asks. The fun part is that he doesn’t look angry, just curious. He’s still playing with that knife, twisting and spinning it around his fingers. There’s a not-quite-smile on his lips that looks out-of-place— or maybe out-of-practice. Tony wouldn’t know. He’s leaning against the wall next to Tony’s desk, all loose lines and relaxed muscles. It’s probably not a coincidence that he’s also blocking the door that way.

Not that Tony would use the door if he wanted to get away.

"Let’s hope you won’t have reason to find out," Tony snipes back, not once stopping to type. It’s one thing to play games with an isolated program — though that does require his attention, he doesn’t have JARVIS to secure it, has to do the legwork himself — it’s another to simultaneously coordinate a hack with his precious JARVIS without tipping the trigger-happy time bomb he calls his guest off.

On the bright side, it’s still a challenge. Tony loves challenges.

*

Gaining access to the data on the stick is a painfully slow-going process. It’s far from impossible — Tony doesn’t think the security measures were meant to keep anyone with decent programming abilities out, only to slow them down — but without JARVIS to take over the boring parts, the process drags on. It’s not that Tony can’t do it, but he’s forgotten how much he relies on JARVIS for the parts he doesn’t want to be bothered with.

Oh well, this is still preferable to introducing Double-0-Nothing to JARVIS. Tony would have to kill afterwards — and he doesn’t think the murder strut would suit him as well as his quiet companion.

To be honest, it’s the silence that’s bothering Tony more than the tedious coding or even the fact that he has a killer in his home. [Ha! Like that’s new.] Tony doesn’t do well with silence. There’s a reason the radio is always turned up when he’s working, rock music echoing from the walls, hard enough to envelop him in sound. And it’s not because he aims to be deaf at fifty, no matter how many pointed comments Pepper throws his way.

Still. Two bottles of coca cola — fresh out of the refrigerator this time — and fifteen variations of "Are you done yet?" later, Tony pulls up the files on the stick.

"Well…" he says slowly, not sure what exactly it is that he’s seeing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wannabe-Bond jerk around. The next moment, he’s leaning over Tony’s shoulder, his cheek almost brushing against Tony’s, gaze flickering over the different documents that Tony keeps on opening.

"Mission logs." The murmur is barely audible, but nonetheless distracts Tony from his internal musings of the pretentious secret agents’ smell — a little like dried sweat, a little like rain, a little something else entirely.

He’s right. But that isn’t everything. Oh no. Some of the documents have been scanned, others photographed. Some bear SHIELD’s insignia, some are signed by officials — some names Tony recognizes, most he doesn’t — some have no official capacity. Notes. Scribbles. Sketches. Pictures. Security footage.

Tony inwardly thanks the gods for his eidetic memory as he shifts through the stream of data. Someone would probably kick up a fuss about what is clearly sanctioned kill orders for a couple of high-up foreign politicians, but what really makes Tony twitchy is that none of it is blackened. The agents involved. The addresses of SHIELD’s offices. The handlers. The victims.

It’s all there, black on white. The sort of information a white hat hacker would sell his soul for — and so would a black or grey hat, now that he thinks about it.

"This makes no sense," Jamie McJameson says after they’ve scrolled through a dozen more reports — everything from a psychiatric evaluation of Barton, Clint after a level 7 mission in Luisiana of all places to an order for new pencils by Hill, Maria, personal assistant of Director Pierce.

Tony isn’t sure he agrees. It’s certainly nothing dramatic like he half-expected — evidence for a huge conspiracy that has been working towards turning the entire US into a totalitarian regime, for example — but. 

Information is a tricky business. It doesn’t always reveal its true value at first glance.

"That’s a lot of sensitive information," Tony states. Because Are you sure it isn’t worth killing someone? seems like an impolite thing to ask outright, considering the circumstances.

Wannabe-Bond shakes his head, too long hair flying everywhere. "It’s not enough."

"If you say so."

Maybe the case isn’t up to his usual escapades? Imagine spending your whole life living in an action thriller, only for your friend to get killed over a mundane robbery. That would drive Tony mad for sure.

Tony is about to suggest they run a couple analysis programs, see if something stands out or any information has been embedded in the data — the photos maybe, you never know — when he notices something odd in the meta data. 

"Wait." Tony narrows his eyes and leans closer towards the screen. "All these files are copies and they’ve all been created at the same time — two weeks ago, on Thursday."

It’s the kind of odd JARVIS would’ve pointed out within moments of accessing the stick, but Tony tries not to think too hard about that. Steve would forgive him for not investigating his apparent death with his full capacity. Probably. It’s hard to say, Tony and Steve spent most of their time together arguing.

"Someone pulled all this data on the same day?" The furrow between Fake-James’ eyebrows deepens.

"Looks like it. And not just the same day, within the same three hours. I— Oh." Tony bites his bottom lip. 

"Oh?" There’s a dark undercurrent in Wannabe-Bond’s tone that one word that makes 'killer' sound real for the first time.

"It’s not all data, just the first part. There’s— bundles of it, I guess you could say." Tony murmurs, hands flying over the keyboard. "Around five gigabyte of it, dated from every Thursday of the last month." Tony skims a few more briefings, a budget plan, a handful of complaints for inappropriate workplace behavior. "These files were copied from internal SHIELD servers. Maybe it’s not the information itself that’s valuable at all. Maybe—"

"SHIELD’s been hacked," his murderous guest states with a sort of calm certainty that sends a reflexive shudder down Tony’s back. "Repeatedly. That means-" He abruptly cuts himself off, lips white from how tight he presses them together.

Whatever it is that has just occurred to him, he doesn’t share and he sure as hell doesn’t look happy. So he does what Tony always does when he’s nervous: He babbles.

"It looks like they were just randomly copying stuff. Might not have even been a person at all, maybe an algorithm. But that implies that they’ve been in the system for a while."

"Can you find out who it is? Backhack them?"

Tony tilts his head. Considers it. "It depends. But to even attempt that, I’d first have to hack SHIELD myself."

Wannabe-Bond — because Tony is getting tired of trying to come up with new nicknames and he’s fond of this one — raises an eyebrow. It looks unfairly cool. Tony may or may not want to kick him in his stupid face for it. "So?"

"So I’m not hacking an international secret agency with half a dozen secret prisons across the world from my home computer," Tony says slowly, and yep, that’s a sentence he’d never thought he would say out loud. [Okay, there was that one time when he was fifteen and drunk, but they’ve all unanimously agreed that that was Loki’s fault.]

Wannabe-Bond crosses his arms, handsome features turned to stone and looking about as yielding.

"Let’s find another computer then," he says like it’s really that simple, and oh, Tony can see how Steve and this guy must get along. They’ve got the same brand of insane stubbornness that makes Tony want to run around in a circle screaming or alternatively ram his head against a wall.

Fucking wonderful.

[dreamingofka1]

01 - Chanyeol

He swung at him one last time; his hand ablaze. Unable to move quick enough to block the sudden attack, Chanyeol let the flames from his opponent engulf his torso. The pain was enough to jolt wake him. Though he hadn't actually been hurt, the machinery they had hooked him up to mimicked pain that came with every hit his clone landed on him all too well.

"Subject 61. Match 7. Fail." The Head Assistant voiced. They moved to disconnect the wires from Chanyeol’s temples as three other assistants loomed over the machinery diligently taking notes over the data it spewed. The blacked-out visors they wore concealed any emotion that may have crossed their face, as if it was not difficult enough to distinguish any change in tone when they spoke. Chanyeol could only wonder what a fail meant to them.

"That makes 8. Now we move onto the last." the Head Assistant stated and reached for the collar that hung around their neck. One, two, three. The Head Assistant pressed down on the side of their collar and the others mirrored their actions. All of them wore the exact same one which acted as their means of communication with him. A translator of sorts that, for the most part, they kept turned off. The times they decided to leave it on only provided him with little information as to what or why they were doing this to him and the others they had imprisoned in their facility.

In their language, they spoke softly to one another and exited the room. Two guards soon came in and loosened the straps that kept Chanyeol tied to the metal bed. Without a word or struggle, they escorted him back to his cell just as they did the previous six times. He had lost the motivation to fight against his captors. It was futile to do so. No matter what the direction he took the connected white corridors would eventually lead him back to the simulation room. How the assistants entered and exited the facility was just one of many mysteries to him.

"Designated time to wash up will be pushed until after your meeting," one of the guards notified him.

A cold chill ran down his spine and his heart rate sped up. The others had told him the Visitor had all met with them after they had failed to win their simulations. None of them knew the origin of the Visitor or their overall role in their captivity. All that was certain was the tantalizing information they would provide them that hinted at their own origin and why they were doing all of this to them.

What would the Visitor say to him? Would it help illuminate any of his murky memories? The others said it helped but only in the slightest. It was when they were all gathered that the pieces would fit together and a picture of their past life began to be painted.

His thoughts were disrupted by the opening of his cell door. He entered the room half expecting the Visitor to already be there but no one else inhabited his small cell. Compulsively, he entered and cleared out the sheets that cluttered his small desk. Each sheet contained an array of his thoughts. Having written them down helped cope with the solitude that he faced when locked away in his cell and away from the others. Each sheet was deeply personal and the Visitor had no right to view any of it.

"Subject 61. Back against the wall opposite the door with your hands above your head." A guard soon ordered from outside. Chanyeol hurriedly finished clearing out his desk and did what he was told. The doors opened and the Visitor entered. Unlike the assistants, Head Assistant, and guards who all wore matching white uniforms, the Visitor's was black.

"Subject 61, sit," they motioned to the bed and Chanyeol abided. They remained standing. "You failed today. Do you know why?"

"I-I-" The sudden question threw Chanyeol off. The fight was already a blur in his memory. What he could recall did not provide him with any logical answer. His clone wasn't any faster or stronger from their previous fights. The fight played almost exactly as it did every single time before expect for some reason it ended in his loss. "I don't know," he finally answered.

The Visitor nodded, "9, 5, 13, 3, 4, 1, 25, and 7. All eight of you lost for during different matches and for different reasons. Three of you have moved onto," the Visitor paused, "another stage. Now six of you remain with the final subject set to begin his matches soon."

"Why? For what?" Chanyeol asked frustration laced his words.

"To know," they answered. Simply and matter-of-factly. "Why else?"

"Know what?" His body grew warm from his frustration and slowly concentrated at his hands. But this wasn't the simulation where he was able to use his power as easily. The collar on him subdued it and no amount of effort could summon it.

"To know you and them. Individually and together, as one," the Visitor answered.

With just a word, Chanyeol was suddenly pulled from the room. Blurred memories flashed before his eyes. He was with the others. Moments of them together - laughing, crying, training. Moments from the past that made his heart ached. How could he has forgotten such precious memories?

When he came to, he found himself alone in his cell. The Visitor was gone and their visit had only left Chanyeol with more confusion and pain than before.

[omniishambles]

💤 (for anyone Myc talks to!)

| Send me “ 💤 ” for my muse’s reaction to yours curling up beside them and dozing off! | No longer Accepting!

 Sherlock’s mind was a well-organised space. He allowed ample room for things that were important; data, information, reference, these were precious commodities and he tended them very carefully. Thoughts of childhood were a low priority. Most memories were not pleasant, devoid of colour or warmth, and yet they remained in his mind palace, locked away in a dusty corner where he rarely drew them out for inspection.

 One of them seemed to have escaped, though, at this moment. As he became aware of the weight pressed against him, Sherlock peered upwards at his brother, his half indignant expression fading when he realised that Mycroft had fallen asleep.

 Their roles had been reversed so many years ago. Sherlock a mere boy, Mycroft a teenager, significantly taller and older and wearing the seven year gap between them like a flashing badge of responsibility. They were in a hospital ward, Sherlock having fallen from a wall he’d been told not to climb and broken his wrist. The Holmes children being as remarkable and unusual as they were, Sherlock had grit his teeth and attempted to set the bone himself rather than face the inevitable chagrin of his Father.

 He’d spent a lonely and painful hour outside until Mycroft had found him. All the way to the hospital his older brother had shouted and fussed over him, torn between anger at his stubborn refusal to listen and concern over the wound. With painkillers in his system and an x-ray awaiting him, Sherlock’s stoic reserve was exhausted and he cried himself to sleep in the waiting room, Mycroft’s arm wrapped tightly around him.

 And as the years went on, though they became distant at times, Mycroft had always tried to look out for him, whether Sherlock appreciated it or not. During those dark days in London it had been his brother who had made sure that Sherlock was safe and well before he was shipped off to New York where he couldn’t cause embarrassment. Now here they were, back where both of their lives had started, and it was Mycroft who was struggling to cope with an addictive personality and an overly loud world.

 Sherlock shifted his weight and gingerly laid his arm around Mycroft’s shoulders. It was the least he could do, after everything, to return the favour. 

[fgodestinyawakenings]

EOR Shinjuku Singularity: Section 17~END

And... I’m fucking done!!!! I’m FUCKING DONE FROM THIS TUTORIAL STAGE OF HP BAR! But most importantly, I’m done with Shinjuku story!! Emiya Alter now unlocked and can be spooked anytime... I’m... Going back to grind for QP OTL

Section 17

Greeted by Other James upon entering... Though there’s not much difference between the two, Other James commented he’s surprised that he even had a good side that opposed him. While Guda commented our James is a good friend, Other James doesn’t care as it was meant to be thrown away.

His focus was onto the Gudas, who got captured yet rescued with Holmes help. And now, returned back here to face him for the final fight. Wait? 3000 years? We only just met like now? Why would you have a 3000 grudge against us?

Either way, the meteor is definitely on its way into the gun barrel. A strange thing he chanted that he doesn’t want to die but yet values his plan more than his own life... Regardless, our first round of fight with Moriarty is here!!

Merlin definitely died at some point... But Leonidas’s taunt been keep both Vlad and Merlin alive for a long while! The RNG for skill and np seal, is not as headache as compared to JP.  However... The Buff Removal RNG can still be shitty when it landed on the wrong person OTL

The defeat of the Evil Moriarty... Now the meteor shouldn’t be coming any closer to Earth! Huh? What do you mean it’s not over?! That’s right... There’s no Holy Grail around powering the meteor to come... What the... Da Vinci? What’s going--?!

A laughter from an unknown being appeared before them. And he knows the Gudas?! Goetia!!!?!?!! No, that’s not him, he’s definitely defeated... A DEMON GOD PILLAR?!?!?!!?!?!?! Yeah, I thought those were gone when we defeat Goeta!!

The Demon God Pillar before them confirmed they were indeed wiped out. So, the reason it came back was because... It hated us, a normal human like Gudas, destroyed all their plans. A normal human Guda that chanced upon joining Chaldea and eventually saved Humanity. Because of that, it wanted to destroy the whole world to kill us...

Apparently, Charles Babbage of this world was supposed to be one of the Demon God vessel! From there he calculated the knowledge he received of when the incineration of humanity will take place.

With its hatred, Demon God Bael planned and gained powers from 3000 years so this would happen. And for James... What...? James...? What are you...? He shot Holmes and...

Everything from this from the start... All of this... Even his splitting himself into two... Was to... HOLMES!!! He was shot right into his spirit Origin... HOLMES!!! What? His Spirit Origin isn’t gone? Moriarty took his Spirit Origin... And now he’s more complete than ever

Betraying us until this point... From the start with Shinjuku being told like out of a storybook, cutting off from the world and humanity. A fictional city when anything impossible can happened and exist... From there, both met and forged alliance in making their respective goals to get what they want.

Using the logic behind the 21 game,  Holmes win by going second that’s how in their story James always lose. A story in their world, good always win and evil always lose. Because of their story that restricted them, that’s when James created the plan in joining us so he could win from there

As Artoria Alter vexed at not seeing sooner, something that no one could see. He erased his memory, hence resetting his own existence. Creating two version of himself, or using Bael was the evil one, they both played their role. Well, thanks for the help as always, Jerk!

Emiya Alter arrived and shot at Bael! Which... That was his goal all along?! Among the league that was summoned, he was without a doubt still on his role as the counter guardian to defeat the evil in this Singularity! With Emiya Alter joining us... He handle Bael, while we, got a round 2 to settle a score with Moriarty!

While I’m lucky most NP of them both hits either on Invincibility or Taunted target... The longest and worst is still fighting Bael himself. AOE Berserker could’ve been preferred... But I’m not risking it with James and Bael gimmicks in this

The defeat of the Demon God Pillar Bael is done! As Moriarty bid farewell to Bael... Bael too lament in regret and furious that he can’t killed the Gudas, yet laugh...? What do you mean the fate is sealed?!

It disappeared now leaving James who’s still on his plan for the meteor. It’s here right at the sky!! And we’ve moved?!!

Section 18

As James comments about this Singularity being a story... He mentions again about Der Freischutz being able to hit his target with six out of seven bullets. The seventh bullet was the grim reaper that killed the one he loved, one bullet that he was forced to shoot even he doesn’t want to.

The meteor confirmed being the seventh bullet and James with his Phantom Spirit... So the bullet.... IT WILL HIT THE GUDAS?! From his plan that involve Bael needing to kill him seriously... That way he earned Guda’s trust, and considered Gudas to be someone very precious to protect... AND THE SEVENTH BULLET WILL HIT THEM NO MATTER WHAT!

Now that it’s really coming towards Gudas, and Holmes is still being inside James... Both Emiya Alter and Artoria Alter left to intercept the bullet. The latter consoling they did nothing wrong, while Emiya Alter complimented at their calm determination despite what they learned

Chaldea is now able to force rayshift onto the Gudas now that the Shinjuku has a locked on their existence with the incoming bullet. Gudas asked if Moriarty regret this, both having no regrets to everything that come so far... A breeze... And blue-black flame with a well known laughter.... It’s the real Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond!!

And Jeanne Alter too! Thanks to Holmes’s advice in watching her feet, she saved herself by diving into the manhole to escape from Lobo! Not only that, Shakespeare is rescued! Hans is also here!! And something for us?

Confirming from James that Sherlock’s power is still within him, both William and Hans uses their Noble Phantasm to summon all the Detective spirits they could summoned to help us! Wait us? Sherlock planned for you guys in aiding us one way or another to defeat Moriarty?!

... Understood. As James finally took out the Holy Grail of this Singularity, the final battle of this Singularity began... James Moriarty, this is the end, it’s time to face your defeat! Your giant ghost of riddles vs our phantom ghost of detective to solve this mystery!!

Thank god for Xuangzang’s NP twice in killing Enigma first! That thing is a pain in the ass after my lesson learned in JP... But the real MVP of this fight, Leonidas. Cu helped in being the DPS later... But Leonidas is the real man, tanking and criting James until his death!

Compared to the fight Bael... Yeah, this one is more easier compared to Bael. Though near end... Merlin died since I ran out of options to stall James from his NP.

Overpowering him, we can defeat him this time! But, he uses the Holy Grail one last time to give him more strength... Not like we’re going to let it happen! By the power of the detective given to us as a borrowed Noble Phantasm... James Moriarty....

THE CULPRIT BEHIND THIS WHOLE FICTIONAL SINGULARITY IS YOU! Now that he’s been forced to admit he’s the culprit... The magical energy is now leaving him! James knows that even with all the detective on Gudas’s side, he could’ve win. Yet... Because he pretended to be a good guy, he acted so deeply into it... Without realizing, he became the mask of a good guy and had fun from it

The memories of their shenanigans from James, made him attached the feeling what was it like on the side of Justice. 

And at Artoria’s and Emiya’s end, both are now able to destroy the meteor coming to them. Chaldea’s end, they still can’t get the Gudas out from the Singularity. A single shot imbued with his Noble Phantasm, Emiya’s bullet fired and destroyed the large meteor into smaller ones! Artoria Alter’s Excalibur Morgan blasted away the remaining pieces into nothingness! They saved the whole world!

Now at the League, James chuckled at even if they’re able to reach their goal. They were still content at what was the end result. James is about to return to the Throne of Heroes, apologizing for his action and admitting he really does enjoy their time together in his anmesia self. He also cursed at the Detective Spirits for causing his downfall

The detective spirits also took their leave too. James wondered if one of them meant sarcasm on finding happiness in the future. Though, that’ll mean you coming home to people’s chaldea despite being a fucking limited Servant here! YEah, we’ll entertain you big time so do come home then, James!

Now that he left, both Shakespeare and Hans left with their work overdue again. As for Edmond... He returned back to his tower, assuring if we need his help, he’ll come down again.

Leaving Jeanne Alter now... Well, you can be summoned anytime if you also don’t make yourself limited to. But oh well... Emiya Alter returned with giving message Artoria already riding off to somewhere once their mission completed. Emiya Alter bid us farewell not without saying we’ll need to pay him a fee if we needs his help once he’s summoned

On purpose without attempting to be honest herself... She’s finally honest in getting a dance with the Guda. Don’t even try to lie you want to get back at Artoria Alter. She’s doing a favor of trying to get what she wanted.

With a dance entertained, we rayshifted back home at last... Guda left off without telling Mash what happened, so she chase after them. Da Vinci orders the staff to analyze the Singularity now that it’s cleared... HUH?! WHAT THE HELL?! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE, HOLMES?!

Wait... Okay while he gets to stay... There’s still other pillars out there?! Three or rather four with an event counted as the main story.. They survived and escaped after the last Singularity. Even with Incineration of Humanity and this solved... is this foreshadowing of Part 2?!

Oh well, at least you can go do a favor in falsifying data to keep the Gudas safe. Even the staff agree on having genius will be a handful here...

Now in Shinjuku street, Artoria feeds Cavall II one last time before leaving. Here’s hoping a new owner or a free life will give him happiness! After than a narration about Shinjuku and the world ordeal itself... It’s over, Shinjuku Phantom case is finally solved!

Thoughts & Observation

Aniplex, couldn’t you just fucking give us this Singularity first instead of that fucking spartan lesson?!

Expected of tutorial stage, if you got majority of your Servants level at a decent one, it shouldn’t be that hard to fight against the gimmicks for this Singularity

The second round of Singularity with the use of Avenger Servants as enemy before a certain class kicks in. By the time with practice against Kingu and Gorgon... There should be ideas for team composition to deal neutral damage

Phantom & Christine

Apparently HP break for Christine doesn’t really equivalent she’s changing her class to shorten NP gauge

But dealing with both Berserker is hell regardless what version you’re in

Amusing that Phantom’s charm keep landing on the male support instead of Ishtar right there

Servants wise:

Your best AOE NP Servant from either Welfare or 3* should suffice to wipe them one shot

Healers definitely needed or support that buff defense because the moment Christine turned into a giant ghost, it’s when things start going shit when she fucking crits

CEs:

Kiyohime CE: I equipped this on Ishtar, so it helps a lot in killing Phantom once Christine is down

Charm resist CE: I don’t use it but well either skill of debuff resist or anything should suffice if Phantom’s charm does land on your Female Servant

Yan Qing

My only problem with him is his sudden NP tick. The front mobs weren’t an issue with Leonidas killing them asap

Gimmick on draining wasn’t also that much of a problem... Well except I need to start afresh because of needing Leonidas NP taunt to do so

Crit damage still a little painful... But whole problem is his NP charge giving either less time to get taunter ready or Merlin to pull up his AOE invincibility because no one where he’s going to hit

Servants wise:

If you don’t have Xuangzang, your best Servant in this is Medea. With the right team, you can get her to spam her NP often to remove his crit buffs. Her first skill also gave instant full NP charge when Yan Qing activated his gimmick upon entering his wave

For the front mobs, AOE Lancer or so should do the trick in wiping them out

AOE Caster can still work though their damage wise may not be as effective ST Caster

Taunters are definitely preferred in this fight, more or less to avoid Yan Qing’s NP to hit on your support & DPS

Support wise... I’d say 1 staller if you have, more or less to either stun or drain his NP if your taunter or AOE defense Servant isn’t ready

CEs:

Kiyohime CE: Practically this CE is mostly needed for this Singuarity

NP Seal: Works well for me, especially stalling wise on his NP

Taunts CE: In the case if you want him to focus on your taunters longer

Lobo

For his first round, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE AND BRING A FULL TEAM FOR BOSS FIGHTING OTL

Even if his gimmick on defese down debuff failed, his normal attack let alone his crit hurts like a fucking bitch for an Avenger

Second round thank god being Rider still... Jeanne is my savior to protect from his NP + healing from Jeanne Alter’s burning field

Third round and fourth round... Taunters are really your best friend

This is definitely one of the most difficult fight thanks to his Avenger class and gimmicks

Servants wise:

Rider version: Shiki or your best ST NP Assassin to do the job in killing him. But taunters is needed still, because majority Assassin evasion isn’t effective with his NP effect.

Jeanne is viable for only Rider version with her NP to keep your team alive + healing together

Avenger version:

Euryale: Your best bet by far with Charm + NP staller, she can helped in delaying from his NP activated. But with her low HP on the problem, a good Caster support and Taunter can keep her alive

Proto Cu: My own Cu isn’t that good and needs more work... But effectively with his skills at the decent level + stats maxed out, he should be your best DPS against him

ST Berserker: At your own risk as the moment an Avenger crits.. It can be insta-death on them

CEs:

Kiyohime CE

NP Seal CE

Taunt CE: Because sometimes a normal attack will kill your support Caster in a blink of an eye

Insta-death resist CE: This is mostly if your RNG screw you badly on the final round... But otherwise if you’re lucky, it’ll always be a miss.

Emiya Alter

A one-time boss fight but... Don’t waste your time kill ALL 200 Hornets

Unlike a certain event coming, he doesn’t have any gimmicks. The battle ends with his HP bar break

Servants wise:

AOE/ST Lancer: Take your pick as your main target is to clear off his first HP layer

AOE/ST Berserker: Same as the reason above... Though the Hornets with Emiya Alter will kill them quickly before they can kill him

Taunters: With his NP being an ST type, bring one in to keep your DPS alive for this whole fight

CEs:

Kiyohime CE

Taunts CE

Defensive CE: If needed against the Hornets together

James Moriarty & Bael

NA feels easier... But among the 3 round, the worst one is still the one with Bael

Enigma was actually better this time unlike NA, but the party cost gave me limited setup choices for this fights

Bael:

The first unique Demon God Pillar that becomes the Avenger class in this EOR Singularity

His AOE normal attack helps a lot in buffing your team’s NP quickly, along with his crits too

I don’t remember him charging his NP by 1 tick... But at least thank god his NP has always landed on the taunted targets before the effect runs out

Servants wise:

AOE Lancer/Berserker: Being the second round fight with James, your AOE Lancer is preferred to fight with Bael and James. Unlike Berserker, if you picked Lancer for DPS, put your focus onto Bael since AOE NP from your Servant will hit James at the same time. But also unlike Berserker, they aren’t prone to dying faster from the class affinty

Taunters: His NP is immediate insta-death unless you got permanent Guts buff on your Servant. Use them as suicide scapegoat to avoid your support and DPS dying

CE:

Taunt CE

Attack Boost CE: This is before a certain class arrival, basic damage increase is welcome to deal against him

Defensive CE: For your AOE Berserker in this fight

Enigma:

I got no comments since I immediately two-shotted this giant ghost before anything can happened

Though thanks to this ghost, it’s the reason the final fight my party is having limited choice for Lancer DPS

Other than its AOE attack, it acts as Moriarty support for this whole fight. From draining your party’s NP, sealing them and their skill to charging James’s NP full when needed... Your main priority is to get rid it first before going after James

Servants:

Medea if you don’t have Xuangzang. Xuanzang is more of together with borrowed support Merlin + Shakespeare to 2 shot it gone

But Medea wise, can either double Tamamo (if you do have your own), or borrowed Waver to support her attack damage to kill it

AOE Caster also works... But not that recommended as preferred most damage will hit on Enigma to kill it quickly

AOE Berserker: If you’re using them, you’ll definitely want Enigma dead immediately or ASAP because class affinity

Martha Ruler & Scathach: For the Undead Trait it has for stronger Neutral damage

CE:

Starting NP CE: With the gimmick buff of charging your NP by 20% every turn + borrowed Support’s NP charging... It helps to use 

James:

After JP’s lesson learned... He isn’t that difficult once you can keep your whole team alive against him

The first round is really RNG that’s thankfully kind to me... Skill and NP seal on random front-line Servant is tricky if you don’t where it lands.

But the main thing you want to spam often is your support’s NP rather than your DPS’s NP in all three round

Of course there’s buff removal by RNG luck.. Yeah, even Leonidas/George’s taunt are removable at that point

Second round, other than draining your stars, he isn’t much of a threat except acting like a support to Bael. With a good AOE DPS, you can focus on killing Bael first while the NP will then deal the damage on him

Third round with him being the DPS, he’s still a threat but as said above, your main focus is the massive ghost before going after him.

His HP Break will give him two times unexpected NP charge by 1 tick, so prepare your defense once he’s close

Servants wise:

Cu Chulainn: Everyone’s favorite doggo! Though I didn’t use him for this whole fight against James. I have Vlad that hit harder, but Cu is definitely the budget choice... Except be careful of his one turn that spams his ignore invincibility

Leonidas: My MVP for the whole fight with him. His own taunt NP and generating stars... He’s the real DPS before Cu kicks in the final round with his nice crit dealing damage at James

Other ST Lancers: Benkei (budget staller) & Diarmund (buff remover ST DPS, his second skill against female will definitely not work on him)

ST Berserker: First round should be fine.. But it’s still at your own risk, especially the second round onwards he has an ally with him on the field

Other Taunters: You definitely need them especially from his NP

CEs:

Kiyohime CE

His Rightful place/starting CE: This is mainly for Leonidas if you do plan to bring him on the field. He was initially a support just to get his NP start while generating stars... But become a DPS once Xuangzang died in the final round, with Merlin + Waver 2030 CE generating hell lots of stars for crit fest

NP Seal: For second round especially, if you can land it on James to delay his NP while killing Bael

 And... I need QP because CBC is going to be very expensive or not if anyone is coming home. Or using that for Nobunaga event rerun because I got Waver and Dantes to raise!

[dnd-topics]

Hermit Background 5e

So the Hermit background in 5e incorporates this diamond:

Feature: Discovery

The calm separation of your all-encompassing hermitage gave you access to an extraordinary and amazing discovery. The careful idea of this disclosure relies upon the idea of your confinement. It may be an extraordinary truth about the universe, the divinities, the ground-breaking creatures of the external planes, or the powers of nature. It could be a site that nobody else has ever observed.

You may have revealed a reality that had been for quite some time overlooked, or uncovered some relic of the past that could revamp history. It may be data that would harm the general population who entrusted you to banish, and henceforth your motivation to come back to society." Presently there has been some talk this is a frail background thing, for when you share it with the gathering it quits being exceptionally yours.

So we should think of 101 disclosures. They don't need to be unsharable, however you get extra focuses on the off chance that they are.

Hermit Discoveries:

You can get the discoveries of the hermit 5e background and those interesting features let you know about this d&d 5e background. Why late just check out them.

1 The character is the last scion of an as far as anyone knows terminated illustrious line.

2 The character is the knave posterity of a present regal line.

3 The character knows the name of an extraordinary devil ruler. Under the correct conditions it could be utilized to tie or demolish him, yet can draw in his consideration whenever spoken or composed.

4 The character knows the song that opens the lock on the Tomb of the Lost Muse. What he doesn't know is the place it is.

5 The character knows precisely where and when and to whom an infant will be conceived, who is destined to vanquish the Kingdom in flame and fiery debris 30 years henceforth.

6 The character knows the 11 mystery herbs and flavors.

7 The character knows the area of an unclaimed precious stone sufficiently extensive to be utilized in a True Resurrection.

8 The character knows precisely what occurs after death.

9 The character comprehends the fragrance based language of the shambling hills.

10 The character found a spot where an impression is singed into the ground in gleaming gold, however it has such a large number of toes.

11 The character knows the names on the tombstone of a grave that contains an extraordinary fortune yet not the area of the memorial park.

12 The character knows the area of a memorial park that contains an extraordinary fortune yet not the name on the tombstone in which the fortune is covered.

13 The character has realized why the Gods relinquished us

14 The character realizes how to accomplish godlikeness.

15. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds and lives among a ruin of an idea lost old city/progress. In this way, he knows its area and the extraordinary fortune famous to be inside (which he/she/it, normally, had no enthusiasm for and consequently did not discharge/stir the fear watchman of the ruin).

16. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds and lives among the final individuals of an idea lost antiquated human advancement. Uncovering their area to the outside world would, without a doubt, realize their decimation (they know some mystery enchantment, incredible riches, absence of invulnerability to fundamental illness, no understanding of "contention", and so on and so on. and so on that outside people groups would love to get their hands on/misuse.)

17. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds the changed perspective to see spirits of the dead...but can not address or hear them.

18. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds the modified perspective to hear spirits of the dead...but can not see them (or generally demonstrate what/who the soul really is).

19. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds a jeweled tablet with the expressions of capacity to convey a divinity to the material world.

20. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds a sword and intuits the mantra that changes him into a super-quality savage victor diverting force from some place called "Greyskull." He has no clue what or where that is, however.

21. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds the adjusted perspective/procedure to shapeshift into creature frames (a la druidic shapeshifting).

22. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds/predicts/can figure the excellent design that enables one to know when/where/how/who will cause [or any blend thereof] a worldwide calamity will come to pass for the world. Normally, the PC's activities consider along with the astronomical commencement and may move the time table up or back.

23. In his/her/its hermitage, the character realizes where to discover clean/drinking water...anywhere.

24. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds the modified perspective to address rocks. Shockingly, not all stones speak...and at times what the hermit "hears" is only their own inward ramblings.

25. In his/her/its hermitage, the character finds the modified perspective to address trees. Tragically, not all trees speak...and here and there what the hermit "hears" is only their own inside ramblings.

26 [+infinity]: The hermit had dreams of a free voice letting him know/her/it things. The wellspring of the voice and veracity of what it says (at any rate at first) is obscure. DM's vacation/roulette. Is it something somebody is saying...or just reasoning? Is it a human "genuine" individual/animal or some extraplaner being or soul? Possibly it sounds like some in need/inconvenience?

Perhaps its the plans of a sequential executioner/vampire/evil presence/were-animal uncovering their next injured individual? Perhaps it's simply some everyday person's better half? The hermit doesn't generally know/needs to make sense of it. Anything, truly, goes.

27 [+infinity]: The hermit hears a voice in the breezes. The source or veracity of what the voice says is [at least initially] obscure.

28: The hermit has found [or inadvertently or by the region of some god for obscure reasons] how to in part open their mystic personality and hears the contemplations of somebody they know/used to know preceding their hermitage. 28a: The hermit has an empathic feeling of said person.

29: The hermit has found how to travel through nature landscape unhindered and leaves no tracks anyplace (even in mud, snow, sand, etc...).

30: The hermit found the last realized titan staying on the planet and gathers periodic or irregular Wisdom rewards from his discussions/lessons with him/her/it.

31: The hermit found the shrouded valley of the unicorns (where they mate and raise their young).

32 [+infinity]. The hermit found the mystery kicking the bucket/graveyard of the monsters/holliphants/embed enchanted animal here.

33: The hermit found how to speak with flumphs.

34 [+infinity]: The hermit found how to conquer a specific enchanted assault/impact: look a medusa/basilisk in the eye, inhale (or hold their breath extremely since quite a while ago) harmed gases (green winged serpent breath, gorgon breath, etc...), can cast enchantment in a spectator's enemy of enchantment field, and so forth...

35: The hermit either was or ended up visually impaired in their hermitage and grew/presently has super-hearing/sonar/eco-area a la Daredevil or Thundercats' Lynx-o.

36: The hermit found the FIRST grimoire composed by the FIRST/most prominent enchantment client/spell-caster ever.

37: The hermit found the FIRST religious content/orders, composed by a begetter/long dead divine beings.

38: The hermit found and completed his/her/its hermitage in a cavern containing the prophet/obscure statue of some divinity nobody has ever known about. [whether or not the prophet capacities/talks/tells the hermit anything or not is DM's holiday]

39-41: The hermit found how to peruse the stars and their connection to specific areas that can be utilized as teleportal stages [40: or open/hop entryways to various planes or 41 [+ infinity]: constantly/just a similar plane - like dependably discovers spots to enter/leave the place where there is Faerie]

For more updating and interesting facts about this d&d 5e background hermit, you can use the above given link and it was awesome.

[salty--alien]

Deeply Wired - cp. 8

Prologue | cp. 1 | cp. 2 | cp. 3 | cp. 4 | cp. 5 | cp. 6   | cp. 7 | Ao3

Summary: It’s 2904. A mechanician known as the Doctor finds a broken android, Rose, and decides to take it with him and fix it. The two become closer quickly but soon a mysterious virus inside Rose starts acting up and revealing its true capabilities, changing everything. When Rose’s previous owner comes around and tries to get a hold of the Bad Wolf virus, the two are left with no choice. What lengths will they go to keep Rose away from the evil hands of the Master?

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x android!Rose Tyler (au)

Chapter: 9/? (Counting prologue)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3063

Notes: We’re nearing the end, friends. Bear with me, please, even as it gets dark. Special thanks to my beta @wordsintimeandspace, and to @starlightkissedsmiles who compared this chapter to doomsday but still supported me through the angst. May this be your warning, my dear readers. <3 Oh, and yeah, this is the lengths they go. They go pretty far. (reference to the story summary) CW: Cursing, Character death (non-permanent), animal death, brief description of violence

Sorry.

Rushing through the familiar street, the Doctor’s mind kept flashing back to the note Rose had left behind. Sorry. As in, sorry, Doctor, but I can’t risk you. He knew exactly what Rose must’ve been thinking, and he also knew it was a huge mistake. Saxon had clearly not given up and that could only mean that he had something up his sleeve. A trap, maybe.

Sorry.

It felt almost ironic, running blindly down the street. Running after the woman he loved. Again. Rose couldn’t be far, she had five minutes’ advance at most. However, he lived in a suburban area with narrow streets and forgettable street names. Five minutes was a lot of time for an android who was determined and had the advantage of never getting out of breath.

The Doctor had officially abused his lungs to their extreme by the time he reached the biggest junction of his neighbourhood. He was forced to stop to gather his breath and fight the feeling of burning nausea from exercising his non-athletic body over its limits. Looking around, breath heaving, the Doctor spinned around, trying to catch a glimpse of any blonde haired person. The bus stops were full of people on both sides of the road, but none of the people waiting looked like Rose. A lone taxi had parked beside the bus stop on his side, blinker flashing steadily to indicate it was waiting for a customer. Rose was nowhere nearby, though.

“Bollocks,” the Doctor cursed under his breath, desperation welling up inside him. He grasped his sweaty hair in his hands, forcefully pulling the locks. Think, think, think…

“Did you see that droid going down the street alone?”

The Doctor’s head perked up at the comment. He turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Yeah, ‘s like it didn’t even have a owner. What an ungrateful bundle of wires,” another voice replied. This time the Doctor located the source: They were two men, assumably in their twenties, waiting for the bus under a tree.

“Excuse me,” the Doctor spoke up, stepping closer. “Who are you talking about?” The couple leered at him, weighing him under their gazes. The Doctor tapped his foot on the ground nervously, energy and the need to run sizzling inside him. Finally, the taller one of the two opened his mouth:

“That blonde machine that walked by just now.” The man’s degrading words made the Doctor’s blood boil, but he wasn’t about to start a fight now when these people had possibly spotted his Rose.

“In what direction?” The tall one seemed annoyed and instead of answering he only nodded behind him. “H-how’d you know it was an android?” the Doctor questioned, his brain nagging at him, telling him that every nanosecond he wasted still had him further away from Rose. The short one shrugged and spit on the ground.

“It’s fucking freezing and it only had a tank top on. Plus you could see all the machine bits in its arms and back. Why? It yours or something?”

“No, well, in a way I know her… But… Goodbye,” the Doctor stuttered, hope inflating him as he darted off to the direction they had pointed at. Was he too late?

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

By some sort of miracle, he wasn’t too late.

At least the men hadn’t been leading him on. As the Doctor rounded the corner, he saw Rose just as she was entering a very familiar black SUV. Her name was left frozen on his lips as he realised it was too late to call after her. The car was already pulling off, Rose inside it. Fuck. Without missing a beat, the Doctor rushed back to the bus stop.

“Come on, I need you to follow that car,” the Doctor nearly shouted as he inserted himself into the taxi he’d spotted earlier. The person behind the driving wheel was genuinely confused. “But… sir, I was called here by–”

“I don’t care! It could be the bloody Queen of the England and I still wouldn’t care - I’m going to pay you double everything. Just. Follow that car, please. Now!” The driver didn’t need to be told twice.

The Doctor noticed his palms were sweating more as his anxiety grew. Rose had left because she thought she put him in danger. She probably wanted to face Saxon alone, the stupid, brave girl. Foolish. He… He loved her, there was no denying it. He’d gone and fallen in love with an AI. There must’ve been several laws against that, but the Doctor didn’t care in that moment. Going to prison was the least of his troubles right now.

“Sir, I lost the sight of the car,” the driver piped up nervously. Crap. The Doctor looked around, trying to spot the black SUV. When he didn’t find it, he started panicking all over again.

Had Saxon noticed the taxi following? Was Saxon himself even in the car? Was Rose safe? No, obviously not. He had to…

“Oh, there it is. Sorry, sir. You still want me to follow them?”

The Doctor released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His heart was hammering madly from the stress, relief flooding his system.

“Yes. Yes, yes, follow them. Please,” he nodded rapidly. His nerves were getting the best of him. If something happened to Rose now…

“I think the car is stopping,” the driver observed, bringing the Doctor back to reality.

“Wh… what?”

“The car. It pulled over. Do you want me to drive closer, or–” “NO. Here is good, thank you,” the Doctor said forcefully, gaze never leaving the black car up ahead. The doors of the car opened and Saxon, accompanied by Rose, exited the vehicle out of his line of sight. A quick glance at his surroundings revealed that they were in some sort of alleyway. A shady place for shady business. Seemed about right.

“Cash or electrochip?” the driver asked, running him up, oblivious to what was happening.

“I… Cash. Cash, yeah, here…” the Doctor answered, distracted, shoving a pile of cash in the driver’s direction. It was certainly way too much for the trip, but the Doctor frankly didn’t care.

“Keep the rest. Thanks,” he said as he climbed out of the taxi, beginning to walk over to the black SUV. He could feel his own heart beat so loud he was afraid it would give him away. As he got closer, faint noises of conversation could be heard.

“Just… tell me what you want from me.” It was Rose’s voice. She sounded hard as steel, but the Doctor could detect a slight waver behind her words.

“You already know what I want,” Saxon’s voice retorted. The Doctor forced himself to stop behind the corner to not reveal himself. He leaned against the worn out brick wall, gaze straying to a dirty street dog sleeping opposite to him.

“I don’t. I want to know the truth. I want to know why you’re doing all of this,” Rose said. There was a brief silence. “Well?”

“What would I get for telling you the truth?” Saxon asked. “And how would it benefit you, Rose?” He was clearly suspicious.

“I have no memory of you ever owning me, so obviously I’m concerned. If… If I… helped you,” Rose sounded like she was forcing the words out, “I would need to know the whole truth. Everything.”

“And why would you just turn yourself in?”

“To keep the Doctor out of this,” Rose answered without missing a beat. “To keep him safe.”

The Doctor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Rose really know what she was getting herself into? And why? Just so that he would be safe? The Doctor almost stepped up right then, but Saxon’s laugh stopped him in his tracks.

“Aww,” Saxon giggled, “how sweet. How positively adorable,” he drew out with a sickeningly sweet voice. The Doctor’s skin crawled at his voice.

“Very well, Rose. You seem genuine enough. Oh, what people do for love,” Saxon mused. “I do admit throwing you away was a mistake on my part. I should’ve made sure the copy I made of your chip had the virus in it before getting rid of you. My bad. Turns out copying your chip’s data doesn’t transfer the virus inside you.”

“W-wait, so… You never wiped my… You have my memories?”

“Oh, not only your memories. I took a full backup of you. I took it to extract the virus out of you, to use it in my own purposes… sadly, though, the copy is useless. It has no value to me. You, however…”

“H…hold on. Stop, don’t come any closer, Saxon,” Rose’s voice was suddenly afraid, even as she tried to keep it hard and intimidating. The Doctor could hear footsteps against the concrete ground. Rose was in danger.

“It’s Master to you, Rose. You know the truth now. Time for me to claim my part of the deal - and just in time for your precious Doctor to see,” Saxon scorned, startling the Doctor. Saxon knew he was here? Oh, fu…

“Wh… what?” Rose asked, panicked, whirling around just as the Doctor rounded the corner into the dead-end alleyway. “Rose, watch ou–” The Doctor was unable to finish his sentence. Saxon had already stepped behind Rose, grabbing her head and pulling out something from his pocket. Rose let out a terrified shriek as Saxon forcefully plugged a flash drive into the USB port in her neck.

The Doctor could only watch, frozen in horror as gold flooded Rose’s eyes, bright light forcing itself out of her. Rose’s lips were open in a silent scream, her hands struggling to rip the flash drive out. It was too late, though. The damage had already been done.

“What did you do?!” the Doctor demanded, voice broken, accusing. Saxon was smiling smugly, ignoring him completely.

“Hello, my Wolf,” Saxon greeted the golden being. Rose, now completely consumed by the virus, turned to look at Saxon, silent. A small part of the Doctor hoped the Wolf would rip Saxon’s head off. He wouldn’t try to stop her this time.

“Hello, Master.” The echoing voice resembled Rose’s so closely it hurt, but it wasn’t her. It lacked the emotion, the passion, the feeling. It was dull, one of a programmed robot.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” the Doctor all but shouted. This time he really gained Saxon’s attention.

“What do you mean, Doctor Smith?” Saxon asked, inclining his head to the side. “You mean–” Saxon continued, plugging the flash drive off of Rose, “–this?” The Doctor didn’t answer, not wanting to play his game.

“Well, I simply made a small addition to her code,” Saxon said, unprompted. “Basically, Doctor, I overrode her system. I am her Master now.” Saxon threw the flash drive behind him, not needing it anymore. The code had already been applied.

The Doctor turned his attention to Rose, whose eyes were swirling with bottomless gold and power, whose face was slack and emotionless. This wasn’t the almighty Wolf he’d seen. This was a Wolf caught in chains, beaten and forced into submission.

“Rose?” he called gently. Her eyes didn’t light up in recognition. She just stared through him, blank. The Doctor could feel his heart shatter. He blinked to stop the tears from spilling over. Was this it? Was it all over?

“Why now?” the Doctor asked, trying to cover the hurt in his voice. “Why not then?” He wanted answers, more than Rose had received.

“Well, the code wasn’t ready back then. And you two caught me by quite the surprise. Now, though…” Saxon trailed off, turning to look at Rose and gently brushing the android’s cheek with the back of his hand. The Doctor swallowed the urge to attack Saxon just for touching Rose when she was unable to say no. “Let’s show him what you’re made of, shall we, Wolf?”

“Yes Master,” the Wolf answered in monotone. A voice inside the Doctor cried for her, for her to snap out of it, for her to recognise him and stop complying to Saxon. A wiser part of him knew, though, that she was unable to. Whatever Saxon had inserted into her was powerful, and it had clearly forced out a tamed version of the Bad Wolf to do his bidding.

“I don’t like that dog. Destroy it,” Saxon said dismissively, nodding towards the dog the Doctor had seen earlier. It didn’t even take two beats as Rose simply raised her hand and turned her wrist. Horrified, the Doctor watched as the dog woke up, letting out a high-pitched howl of agony, before turning golden and bursting into sparkling dust. It descended onto the colourless asphalt; Gone, just like that. The only trace left of the dog was the pile of dust, now slowly melting into the wind.

A cold tear stuck in his eyelashes, the Doctor turned back to look at Saxon. The man was grinning like a maniac whereas Rose’s gaze held nothing, no remorse. In that moment the Doctor knew she wasn’t really there, that she couldn’t fight back even if she wanted to.

“Excellent job, Wolf,” Saxon praised. Rose’s face remained empty. “I have another task for you. You, Doctor, must know what it is,” he continued, looking pointedly at the Doctor. He swallowed, nodding with a grim expression.

It was his turn to be turned into dust.

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

Bad Wolf had never believed in love. Such a human emotion was far below it.

For as long as it could remember, the Wolf had been alone, wandering in space. That is until its paths collided with one specific RO-53 unit from the planet Earth, in the year 2899.

Being a part of Rose meant being one with her, and she had always been, from the moment she was created, passionate about everything. From this lesser creature the Wolf learned many things it had avoided before. Love wasn’t just about the smiles exchanged or the butterflies in one’s stomach, nor was it about a lone kiss or hands held tight in the dark of the night. Love was putting someone else’s needs before yours. One’s life wasn’t exchangeable for another’s.

The Wolf noticed how very much Rose loved the Doctor. But even more importantly, the Wolf saw her love for life. And after having been a part of her for so long, things started blurring together. So, little by little, the Wolf found itself falling in love with those things as well.

When it came to the moment where Saxon told Rose to destroy the Doctor, something in the Wolf’s mind shifted. A pulling part of the beast was ready to turn everything into dust with a flick of a wrist but another part, that Rose part of the Wolf, persisted. She had always been too compassionate for her own good, doing what was right, defying orders.

“Get rid of him.”

Defy. Defy. Defy.

Images of them stranded in the scrapyard, the Wolf alone inside Rose’s deactivated mind for weeks, flashed before its eyes. Feeling all that pain and loneliness she had taught it to feel. Without Rose, the Wolf had felt helpless, even as it possessed all that power.

The Wolf was a being of many things: A mythical beast that held all the questions and all the answers, the only one that could mold time and space and bend reality into its will. The Wolf wasn’t, however, a being made to feel. Its only link to rationality, to that insane power, had been this female android, the one that was now locked up away in their mind. Yet even locked up away the Wolf could feel Rose’s presence fighting hard to get out. Strangely, all that pointless resistance awoke something in the Wolf. A newfound feeling, an emotion it had never felt before: Hope.

“No,” it spoke up, its own voice echoing firmly and bouncing off the walls of the universe. The Wolf knew it couldn’t defy its Master’s commands for long, so it needed to be quick.

Long ago the Wolf had looked into the future and it had seen all that is, all that was, and all that ever could be. But the Wolf had never seen this. It had never seen this one android coming. It realised that maybe there was indeed a thing called love. And loving someone meant putting their needs before your own.

Knowing its time had finally come, the Wolf smiled for the final time, embracing its fate.

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

The Doctor stood in place, waiting for the inevitable. Staring into the depths of Bad Wolf’s ruthless eyes, prepared for everything to end.

After a while the moment between them had stretched a bit too long, though. Saxon had already given his order, yet Rose stood still. Finally:

“No.”

...What?

“No?” Saxon repeated, appalled. “You can’t defy me. I told you to destroy him. Do as your Master says, Wolf.” The Doctor stood still, shocked.

“I’m doing as my Master says. And she is saying no.”

With the flick of its hand, the Wolf picked up a metal pipe that was lying in the ground further away, turning it in its hands. The Doctor stared at the being in confusion, not trusting himself enough to say a word. A bittersweet smile formed on the Wolf’s lips and its gaze turned towards the Doctor, meeting his eyes. They were a good five feet apart, but he could still see the golden tear rolling down Rose’s face, getting stuck in the corner of her mouth, from where she licked it away. A fleck of whiskey brown blended in with the gold of the Wolf’s eyes as it spoke words to him, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, the Doctor could see Rose there instead of the Wolf. Then she was gone, and the Wolf closed its eyes.

Still trying to process what the Wolf had said, the Doctor only realised what was going to happen when it was too late.

“NO!!!” It was the Master’s shout, but he, too, was far too late. Piercing her neck with the pipe, Rose slumped lifeless to the ground, her chip and the Wolf destroyed for good by the sharp, unforgiving metal.

Tears freely dropping on the pavement, her last words echoed in the Doctor’s head like an accusation:

“I love you. Goodbye.”

[saskhal]

On Division

After moving from Mexico to the United States, Elena began to lose her children to the American culture. Her worst fear is that she will not be there for her children when they need her most, because she cannot learn English. Vamos a pedirle dulces a mama. Vamos.They no longer need her. Elena slowly becomes dumb. If she doesn’t lock herself in the bathroom with her English book every day, she will become deaf.

           I wasn’t sure if it was because times are changing, or if the world was always so blocked off. People protest and rally for freedom in a place that claimed to already have it. After the nation had its first black president our idea of freedom was still not fulfilled. People are still divided in as many ways as water can be shaped. There will always be people who cannot adapt. There will always be people who cannot hear more than one thing.

           My parents have been separated for most of my life. I have only two short memories of my mother and father together. After my dad got full custody of my sister and I, my mother would ask me the same thing. What did I do wrong? She said it for years. All throughout junior high and high school. What can I do? sorry mom. We’ve told you many times what you did. She would cry either right before we left or right when she picked us up from our dad’s. I felt awkward. Tight and strained. I wasn’t a human anymore. Instead I was outside the car looking down through the windows and sort of through the roof of the car.  I was look at myself as I stared at the floor waiting until my mother would stop crying. Eventually it would just be me in that car. My sister no longer has a relationship with our mother. My sister and mother also divided. She grew stronger than me, but she never learned to forgive.

           Middle earth has always been harsh and unforgiving. Different species, races, even families clash. The One Ring is pure evil, and holds the ultimate power. Mankind easily gave in and became servants of evil. Trapped with and evil that cannot die. The Ulairi are covered in all black robes. The hoods are thick and shape the head of nothingness.

           I opened the door to my Nazgul’s lair. The young adult smell no longer exists; instead there is sweat and marijuana. The shadows felt more awake, because of all the trash and bottle caps. The bedsheets were navy and mint. The air was like winter, but smelt like summer. A small clutter of medicine was in the corner. It was purchased last night says the receipt. The cough he didn’t have must still be bothering him I bet. He is lost forever now. Divided from his family and his consciousness. Lost all his power of will.

           Tucson unified school district, in Arizona, had once realized that 50% of their Mexican-American students dropped out of school. They attempted to fix this by implementing ethnic studies classes. There was a huge improvement, and about 90% of the students enrolled in these classes graduated high school. Imagine being a student, and no longer feeling like your school system was trying to get you to drop out. In ethnic studies, students learn about their culture and others. Teaching values that allow unity between different cultures and idea.            The statistics were showing that marijuana was good for people and their health. It was legal and seemed like everyone was smoking it, even if they were under aged. I never had a problem with it. I never smoked. I had responsible friends who were going to college and always had better grades than me who drank and smoked, so why would it be such a big deal? 

         My Nazgul has had issues growing up, but he was the only one with substance abuse problems. His younger brother was doing good in school and even took harder classes. I spent the night at my grandparents one night. I couldn’t sleep. The alarm clock read 3:13 in black letters with a slimy green glow. The light was bright enough to hurt my eyes after I lowered the blanket from shielding my eyes. I heard the basement door shut. I could hear my grandma’s chanclas smack against her feet as she walked outside. I looked out the window and thought the same thing as I always do, why is the sky so bright even in the middle of the night? It was summer. And I was afraid of lights, because I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I need darkness in my life, so I can rest.

           The sun was hot on my way to school. I dressed accordingly. The cool air came in and caused a storm which brought rain and wind. I was soaked walking home. If it is nature for opposites to fight and cause destruction, then it makes sense for humans to do the same.

           During the industrial era, feudal Japan wanted to become a more civilized nation and become a strong and united nation like many western countries. The Japanese Empire fought against smaller territories. When one battle was won, the rest of the losing side would accept their defeat and kill themselves, but Tom Cruise kept fighting. Accepting defeat was not part of his American culture. He learned more about his opposition while in captivity. He was one of the last samurai. The Last Samurai holds the bridge somewhere. What can bring one side and connect it to the other? Whatever it is, war is part of it. 

         It was in the late 2000′s when I played hockey against the Canadians. Tacoma versus Vancouver. We fought hard for 90 minutes. The temperature was freezing for obvious reasons. But our bodies were creating so much friction that we couldn’t keep cool. I had sweat that stung my eyeball like salty peppers. I sat on the bench for the first time in 15 minutes of nonstop moving. I saw the twinkling white lights as everything started to dim. One streak of lighting across my eyes after another until finally it stopped, and the world became bright again. This was just a game, but sticks were still broken. Skates sliced the slippery ice. Whistles blown and cracked like a whip. We even hunched over after our stomachs where smashed by a big hit. All this was for fun, but we fought only because we were on different teams. We shook hands and said good game afterwards, but we never shake hands before we battle.

           Even my younger cousin started feeling the quake of my Nazgul’s dysfunction. The Nazgul isn’t a bad person, it’s just that he trapped himself in this disassociated state, and now my younger cousin has to live amongst the hate and separation within his household. My cousin is having a harder time in school now. He is physically sick because of mental stress. Our battles hurt everyone not just ourselves.

           The Tucson districts abolished its ethnic studies classes because it divided children by their race. In class they read books based off communism that had ideals written by dictators and fascists. The children were taught that the American history was filled with bloodshed and hatred of other cultures. The politicians who helped ban these classes never even attended a class. And the one time they did, they did not listen to the positive and look for every opportunity to bring it down. The film Precious Knowledge was released in 2011 to inform people about the struggle in Arizona, and how media can totally manipulate what is true. Many other school districts followed the message and make their own ethnic studies classes to help educate kids, and even made it a required class. However, it wasn’t until August 2017 that the law was deemed unconstitutional by the supreme court and the Tucson unified school district was free to hold ethnic studies courses. 

         My grandma saw it one way and one way only. Weed is a drug and drugs are bad. They are a terrible way to “have fun” and will lead to worse drugs. Alcohol is bad. For the Nazgul at least. He cannot handle it, and everyone can see. But maybe she was right. As of now she is right. Evil cannot die. He is forever a servant of the dark lord.

           He believes that everything is someone else’s fault. He is in jail because we won’t bail him out. He believes that he doesn’t have to pay if he steals. He believes that downing cough syrup won’t have a bad consequence. Maybe he should fight the people who keep giving him more chances to make bigger mistakes, because it’s their fault for letting him out of that cell.

           People will always have a different stand on a subject. The good thing about conformity and socialization is that there is less conflict when everything is the same. The bad thing is that those who are different are viewed as sickly and handicap. An open mind helps people stay free. An open mind helps people work together. The reason we teach art majors calculus is because math helps with problem solving. People need to adapt and build bridges and roads. The only divider would ideally be something that connects those two things together.            The Ethnic/ Raza students at Tucson high were dangerous to some people. Those people did not want Latinos to be educated. They wanted to keep using second grade students of color data to know how many prisons they’ll need in the future. What makes a person want to shut down a program meant for all ethnicities and for all students? Why would a person think that students graduating school and enjoying education was a bad thing? The division of power was being threatened. New ideas where not accepted because order keeps us alive. We do not know what will happen if there is change.

           I learned that I cannot expect anything to change unless I was willing to lose something. I did not know what was going to happen to me when I started working at panda express. I could have worked at a company where I got money and never built any relationships with anyone and played the game safe. Instead I gave up my comfort and I was placed a workspace with people who cared about me. I gained confidence and could speak. I will volunteer to speak with younger people and hopefully they will be better than me. I can become a leader now. 

         I have been to a counselor before. The first few times it was required by law, because of my parents. The next time was because I wanted to. I wish I was diagnosed with something just so I had an excuse for being how I am, but I was never tested or went in for something like that. I looked up my problems on my own. I am not what people call antisocial, because that would mean I have no morals and I act against society and its laws. I am not avoidant because I do not like to be in my room by myself. I prefer to be with others, although I do act awkwardly at times and fear rejection. Maybe I just have rubatosis. I can always feel my heart. I ask around and everyone says they feel their heart too and it’s normal. But they don’t know what i’s like I’m sure.   

Jackson, P. (Director). (2001). The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

 Mora, P. (1985). Elena.

 Palos, A. (Director). (2011). Precious Knowledge.

 Thorne, Craig R., and Richard R. DeBlassie. "Adolescent substance abuse." Adolescence 20.78 (1985): 335.

             Swartz, Marvin S., et al. "Violence and severe mental illness: the effects of substance abuse and nonadherence to medication." American journal of psychiatry 155.2 (1998): 226-231.

             Zwick, E. (Director). (2003). The Last Samurai. Warner Bros.

[themsgdiaries]

Coloring my dreams is not defined by you coloring my skin.

I'm supposed to be "studying" but here I am #yesshewrites again 😅

2 years ago, I read an article discussing about how Filipinos are the "Black" of the Asians. (not only they viewed and looked us down about our educational degrees but ultimately the fact that we are the dark-skinned of the Asia).

When I was little, I do not care about my skin color. The only moment I get to experience and became aware of it and became an issue was when I transferred into a public school. At such a young age, like 2nd grade or 3rd my classmates and all other sections called me Ms. Maputi (for they do not know my name) and the little boy whom I remember who was nice to me, his name is Aldrin was called "guruto" for being dark- skinned. It was the time where the teleserye Marina was everyone's favorite. I was complimented a lot for having fairer skin than anyone else and I was not really aware how it impacted anybody else for I was a privileged one.

Entering adolescence, everyone's finding the best version of themselves. At 6th grade, my Mom gifted me an Allue coral blush on as a graduation gift. It was my first set of make up and my love of it grew. I was consistently envied and judged. I don't know if it was because I apply make up or just because others wanted too but they couldn't afford one. Make up and shower gels from balikbayan boxes helped me to embrace and find myself, yet others judged and others praised me. 

Growing up, all our hormones were developing and as we face another chapter of being highschool, my classmates faced the problem of suffering from breakouts, oily faces, and clogged pores resulting white heads and black heads, and that popular skin deceased called "an-an". On top of that, we learned about face washes and perfumes. The boys discovered hair gels, body sprays, and how to act cool. The girls were all spraying colognes, fixing their hairs, and felt confident with the floral baby bras they're wearing though nobody really sees it. Some were starting to bloom, so they explored and used red lollipop to stain their lips to validate the strict rules in our school that they are not wearing makeup. One thing were common to both the girls and the boys, that like their teachers and tbeir parents everyone were obsessed of skin whitening soaps and staying out of the sun. My generation were the days where everyone says, "Maganda sana , kaso maitim" or "Maputi lang yan, pero hindi maganda". In my teenage years, there was never really anyone who fit the fixated standard of what was deemed perfection so we were all doomed.

Going back with my friends, I was never aware of how hard their struggles were for though we live in an all-summer-year-round- weather my skin seems abnormal for not producing much oil. Then, there I gained another name as Ms. No sweat glands. It was just okay. I do not care about it. But as I looked back today, I was also brought to the days how my adolescence was always me carrying that J&J talcum powder on my purse and that precious mirror. lol. lol. When I saved money from my allowance or momma will do our grocery shopping, I will upgrade my powder into that pink Pond's pinkish white glow powder sometimes sponsoring my whole clique. I cannot remember if I ever desired to be lighter when I was younger for outside the circle of my family I am just OK. But inside, I was often decribed as maitim or dark compared to my siblings and parents.

One particular moment I can remember was when I went to ibayo, a place where you get to cross a river to get to the countryside.I usually spend my summer there. A typical summer there would be chilling and eating magoes under its tree and playing endlessly until the sun goes down. My cousins, younger sisters and I were pretending we were hunters, pirates, geographers, and paleontologists digging fossils, catching any insects, and looking for fruits to eat. We found shells, bones, coins. We dig on mountains, caves , and farms. When we're lucky we will find a peso coins, or dug a "kamote" or a "singkamas" out of nowhere. We're happy though we never really tasted one because we are afraid to eat it because we might die from being poisoned. Unfortunately, most of our days were us being scolded for digging up my Tatay's bed of pumpkins or the newly transferred tomatoes, okra, eggplant seedlings which he grew from his green thumb and hardwork. That's not the worst part, wait for this one: the worst we would dig is a fresh manure of a person or an animal. We would vomit as if our intestines wanted to leave our little mouth swearing we will never hunt again-- which never happened. We would then ran as if we saw a ghost and as if the "deadly golden treasure" has its own feet chasing us to touch our skins and invade us. When the sun is out, that's also the time where my skin will transform as black as the night and the only fair skin left in me was my legs. So I was proud of my legs lol. I am as black as our Philippine tamaraw/carabao, My arms were as dark as a burnt coconut shell. My face is as red as my father's tomatoes surviving our violent hands of dig and tug. It was fun being under the sun though my cheeks were rosy, burning as is chilis were applied on my skin. The rashes and sunburns where just normal for me, but me being darker and darker each day was what I disliked the most.

One day, I complained to my Dad and said, "Ang itim ko na". My Dad replied "Hindi ka naman maputi". I do not know why he told me that. I do not know if he wanted me to not feel bad for being"darker" or he just consistently sees me darker than anyone else in our family. Everytime I will tell my Tatay I am maitim "na" he would say "hindi ka naman maputi" I never knew the reason behind it: If he wanted me to accept who I am or to break my little privilege I believed which my classmates praised me for. (My Tatay always taught me to accept myself and how God made me for who I am. I remember I was totally upset with tears welling up on my eyes for being bullied when I was 7, my classmates told me I was "salot" for being "kulot". They would chant "kulot- salot" throughout the school year. My Dad told me, "Alam mo kung anong ginawa sa'yo ng Diyos nung pinganak ka yun ang bagay sa'yo. Yun ang mas maganda sa'yo". From then, I was proud of my locks and my Mon maintained, caref, and made me the most beautiful curly girl. But not later on as I undergo adoslecence, I was swayed. I conformed to the idea that the starigthter, the better . I was in love of it. I regret though , I would trade my expensive hair brush just to get those curls back) Sorry for that long segway, my memories were just right here right now lol.

So,

After every summer vacation, I would enjoy a shower in our home. My showers were like hours and hours of ritual any Filipina women, especially young people would have probabally done in their life. Our shower room is like a spa. My mom has more than 5 body scrubs. From back scrub, body scrub, loofah, stone, towels, etc. I would lather myself with safe guard to kill the bacteria, then the essential soap in our home, Dr.Kaufman which makes me feel I am the most bacteria-free person in the world. The I would lather myself with papaya soap, bearing in mind that the longer I soak on it the lighter I will be. Feeling triumphant, I will rinse myself then a salt scrub and a coffee ground scrub would finish and seal all the ritual I have done.

I was not "much" discriminated on my skin color. But I have witnessed the worst. I have seen some of my friends and classmates feeling completely confident for being lighter (a lot of times a "little" lighter) making them a snob and a total jerk. While they were proud of being lighter, their hearts became darker for others. On the other hand, I have also seen those who were darker, those were the broken hearted young people who were called monkeys, "uling", "ulikba", "maitim", "itim", "anino"/shadow, "anak ng lagim", "banaks", and many many discriminative names.

Up to now, there are about 2 million skin ligthening soaps which are sold in the Philippines. Skind toners, injections, pills, and any other means for a "lighter and better" skin were not included yet. The truth is I WAS one of them. I thought it must be. I should be and that I need to be.

The media told me to. The people I idolized both I know personally and not made me believe. The education I had told me to. Calling Ifugaos "Aetas" (taga bundok) with their curly hairs and darkest skin I have ever seen.

Day by day I was whispered and molded with their colonized mentality.

And when I grow older, I was shocked that the nightmare has just began. Graduating from Highschool, I found some of my friends being scared in what future awaits them.

"kulang ako sa height"

"hindi kasi ako magaling sa English"

"pag tumanda ka na, wala ng mag ha'hire sa'yo"

"dapat kasi dun maputi, matangos ang ilong"

"sayang. kung pwede lang sana"

These were just some of the phrases I can recall to the extent.

And now I am telling you, it doesn't matter.

"kulang ako sa height"

"hindi kasi ako magaling sa English"

"pag tumanda ka na, wala ng mag ha'hire sa'yo"

"dapat kasi dun maputi, matangos ang ilong"

"sayang. kung pwede lang sana"

chuck all these mentality.

Then, I came to see the dark world of being hired and employed . The gas-gas na statement in each bio data and that line under every (job) wanted sign:

"With pleasing personality"

When I was 8, while waiting for our buko juice at the jeep terminal. I asked my Mom one time about what it means. I was just learning how to read that time. I enjoy practicing and reading each sign I see everywhere. My Mom was the proudest because she will caught me speaking and reading as she drives.

I can still remember, the sign was on white font on a red board of a (job) wanted sign. When my Mom explained it to me I have understood that a person should have a good understanding heart, and a good attitude in dealing with people. That is the desirable personality that they are looking for. It remained true to me. Until I really got curious if anybody wonder or ask what does it really mean as I enter college. Because it seems that the English as a second language speaker in my hometown does not translate "personality" with the same meaning my Mom taught me when I was younger.

My awareness of the career to take must be a security of my future.

Your skin-color, your looks, your ability to speak English, your education, your power were ingredients you need to have. If you can have it all on the same time. Malakas ang baraha mo of gettung hired. You need to have "good looks" to be desirable and most of all this good looks is mostly founded in who is the lighter skin? The lighter, the better. What is important for us to ask is how far we will let this happen? Until when we will allow this notion on "lighter, the better" box our wonderful future and the beauty we keep on ourselves? Do we just keep the discrimination happen or we will say it's time to end it and we're in it to end.

When one stand for another, the other can have courage to keep going.

Today, may you embrace yourself with your own beauty. May your dreams and potentials carry you above and beyond!

Always remember that itim man o puti ang kulay natin. H'wag naging kakalimutang maging tao at maging kapwa para sa iba.

May you receive your freedom today and may you celebrate your color with happiness on your face and an overwhelming pride for being perfectly made by God for who you are.

Cheers and Cheers!

Always,

TheMsgDiaries 💕

proofreading needed.

[simplysherlockfanfic]

Connection Twenty Three

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4178

A/N: ***possible spoilers with the new episode of Sherlock.*** A few lines borrowed from The Lying Detective in BOLD at the end of this part. If you haven’t seen the most recent episode, the last part of this chapter will be a spoiler. 

Your name: submit What is this?

It was on the plane to London that you got your first solid lead. You were reading the newspaper when Vic sat down after her third walkabout of the plane. You chalked it up to habit but didn’t discourage it either.

“Whatcha reading?” Her Irish accent was completely gone once she stepped into the airport and it still sounded weird.

You threw a glance at her as you replied. “Some big shot hunter. I’ll never understand men who think it’s a sport to hunt animals with high-powered weapons.”

She looked closer at the picture and scoffed, “that sonofabitch doesn’t stick to animals. He’s got some balls going public.” She skimmed some of the article, “he published a book? Jesus, he’s got someone with power backing him to show his face like that.”

You studied her. “Why?”

“Because that grade A asshat is a sniper for hire. Animals are not his only game. We were on him for a while after he got dismissed from this semi-secret group of the British military, the first Bangalore Pioneers. He was up to some nasty shit but they didn’t have any evidence to charge. That’s kind of the whole problem with secret groups. He went underground and lost his tails, no easy feat considering the two agents that were following him. Last time we had eyes on him, I should’ve taken the shot but Mycroft was insistent.”

“Mycroft?”

Her brow furrowed then she cursed under her breath, “his power issues are fucking legendary.” She stabbed the picture of the man smiling above the dead lion. “He was the sniper watching John that day at St. Bart’s.”

You balked, “what?”

“I gave him Mycroft’s deal. I think Mycroft thought there was some back up plan if the snipers didn’t check in. And I can tell you Moran wouldn’t resurface like this unless he knew he had protection. He was deep under, we tried finding him again after all that business with his father but didn’t turn up shit. He’s good and he was trained by some of the best.”

“His father?”

“Lord Moran. The case Sherlock and John solved when he came back.”

You looked back at the article with new eyes. “Well, shit.” Who was the power player behind him now? With daddy locked up, it was possible one or some of his father’s allies would be possible. They wanted to blow up the parliament building during some vote. You closed your eyes feeling something tickling at the back of your mind until the memory bloomed.

He was always like that.

Who the hell are you?

I’m curious how you could deduce where exactly his lie was?

The IceMan had heard whispers of someone planning to blow up the parliament years before Lord Moran tried. Was someone shopping around? Had it been Moriarty even back then trying to hook up the right players or just someone who overheard something they shouldn’t? Your head throbbed and you rubbed your temples.

Vic leaned over you slightly and you glanced at her from the corner of your eye. She was checking Will on your other side then caught your gaze. “I thought you’d like to know Sherlock’s been seeing a therapist.”

You glanced down at Will making sure he was asleep. “How do you know?”

Her gaze shot around as she lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “Chatter from a friend. Mycroft’s had someone watching Sherlock like I’ve been watching you but apparently he upped the surveillance a couple months ago and then three or so weeks back there was a big fuss over him just walking around. Most just chalked it up to over-protective big brother routine but I just get this feeling like something serious is going on. Maybe it’s good we’re going back now.” She gazed into your eyes, “have you ever… what do you think of intuition? Most times I put it down to gut instincts due to training and knowing how people move and think… but this… we haven’t seen anything but I can still feel it.”

You nodded. “I know what you mean. I’ve been telling myself I just miss them and I know something has to snap. The shooter’s been quiet for too long and these poisonings… even if it isn’t Moriarty, someone wants to hurt Sherlock and we can’t do shit from somewhere else.” You looked at the article in your hand, the man smiling up at you from over the dead lion. “We’re at least in the game if we’re nearby and if no one knows we are, then we’re a secret weapon. I wish I could talk to Mary and see what she’s feeling. She’s been around them, she would have seen something.” Vic glanced at you and nodded but something flashed across her face. You thought it was worry but couldn’t be sure.  “What is it?”

She looked down at the paper then shrugged. “She’s a mother, might that compromise her ability a bit?”

You shook your head, “believe me that only heightens your senses and makes you more invested in knowing everything that’s going on around you and I mean everything.”

She fiddled with her seatbelt before nodding. “Yeah, that training goes much too deep.”

~~

The safe house was prepped and ready for you within an hour of landing in London and you couldn’t help but notice how close it was to a certain part of Baker Street. One of Vic’s connections had picked you up and driven you to the house where another agent, a female undercover as a landlady ushered you inside the flat and led you to a sitting room where she quickly briefed both you and Vic.

Mycroft had been expecting you and a file was waiting there for Vic. There wasn’t much in it but it gave her an idea of who to contact. You both agreed Mycroft was being stingy with information and it was more than a power thing this time, especially with the looks the undercover landlady had given the agent that dropped you off when he couldn’t see her. Or maybe Mycroft wasn’t the only one feeling the effect of a leak in the building. That charged feeling in the air of something big coming only increased since arriving in London.

Later that night, you were settled on the couch with a book in hand, Will had fallen asleep stretched out beside you after watching his favorite program, one he used to watch with John all the time. You had tried everything to distract from the one pervading thought that had lodged itself comfortably in the center of your mind since you walked into the flat and even though you had been reading for almost an hour, you had only moved about five pages and had no idea what was happening in the story.

You caught Vic watching you with a smirk as you glanced at the door yet again. Her gaze warmed your cheeks and you stopped ignoring her attention. You dropped the book and pleaded, “I can’t be this close and not see him. Please help me.”

She rolled her eyes then hopped off the chair she was perched on, “Mycroft doesn’t want anyone knowing we’re here, but how can I say no to that face?” She walked over to you and pulled you off the couch. “Okay, listen very carefully. I know that area like the back of my hand. Oh, and take this.” She pulled a small metal object out of her pocket and handed it to you.

“What’s this?”

“Once you get up the fire escape, you’ll use that to unlock his window.”

“You just carry things like this around?”

“Of course.” She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you to the front door. “Okay, now here’s your best bet of getting there without being seen.”

Twenty minutes later, you were climbing carefully up the fire escape and pulling the window lock pick out of your pocket. You could see the figure in the bed once you made it to the window of his bedroom and just as you clicked the lock open, the figure sprung up. Sherlock stood there staring as you started to open the window before breaking from his trance and moving over to help.

“Hi.” You grinned as you threw one leg over the windowsill ducking under the window then twisted as you pulled your other leg inside. You were sitting on the sill with the intention of jumping inside but he stepped in between your legs blocking any further movement then grabbed your face.

You inhaled sharply staring at his lips waiting for them to meet yours as the warmth from his hands seeped into your cheeks. You had missed his hands, the way he could cradle your face like the most precious piece of data and everything else slipped away, but it was always his eyes that could captivate you forever and a day without regret.

When he didn’t lean in, your gaze shot up to his eyes and you gasped. His right eye showed clear signs of irritation even in the weak amount of light but his left eye was almost entirely black and yet the intensity in both hadn’t dulled. “What the hell happened to you?” You touched his left cheek gently while searching his face for any other damage. He was paler than usual with at least a week’s worth of facial hair around his mouth but you didn’t see any other serious signs of damage.

He had yet to move his hands or anything else since he grabbed you. You looked back into his eyes with a lump forming in your throat. “Sherlock? Are you okay?”

His eyes glistened in the light from the street and his eyelids fluttered as if shaking himself from some thought. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones and you waited for his lecture but instead, a smile appeared as he whispered, “you are real.”

You searched his face wondering what he was on and what had truly happened to him while you were gone then his lips brushed tentatively against yours. He leaned into you and the cautious nature disappeared taking your thoughts along with it as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled back and you came to your senses, your arms were wrapped around him and your hands gripping his shirt. “I didn’t expect that.” You flushed under his intense gaze.

He slipped his arms around your waist and held you against him as he took a few steps back from the window. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his wince and you slid down until your feet touched the ground. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

His voice was gruff and you wondered whether it was just from sleep or if his throat had some kind of damage but you couldn’t see any bruises on his neck. “What?”

He grasped your hips then his hands smoothed up your sides before one wrapped around your back and the other caressed your cheek on its way into your hair. “You’ve spoiled me.”

“Are you high?” He still had that medically sterile smell of a hospital lingering and you hoped this was a medical high.

He smirked, “not yet. They’re keeping me off the usual but this one is so much better.” His mouth captured yours again before you could say a word and you were on the bed before you could wrap your head around the fact that you were actually home. “I didn’t think you were being literal when you said soon.” He pulled your shirt off and paused for a moment as he gazed down at you. “You have no idea how badly I needed a distraction.”

You brushed your fingers over his chin and up his jawline before pausing by his eye with a wince.  “Morphine or cocaine?” His brows furrowed, “you didn’t deny it. So which one is it?”

He shook his head with a grin, “one of my newer favorites, it’s all natural and I haven’t had it in far too long.” It was your turn to be confused and he reveled in it before leaning down and whispering against your lips, “you.”

Sherlock had a whole different way of making you feel at home and he had no mind to slow anything this time. This was not about getting reacquainted but saying a very enthusiastic hello after being apart for, like the good man said, far too long. Even though there was some fumbling as you both pulled at each other’s clothes and you found a few tender spots around his ribs you were careful with, but once you finally came together, the dance still remained the same.

You laid side by side and he watched you as you both regained your breath and normal heart rate. He was studying you and you wondered what he saw but didn’t interrupt. “Ireland was good to you.”

You examined his left eye again. “So, you did get my little hint. Seriously, what happened to you?”

“Little? You sent a picture.”

“Oh come on, it was just an ocean behind us, it could’ve been…”

“It was a lake.”

You rolled toward him onto your side and propped you head on your hand, “I did wonder if you’d be able to figure it out. You’re ignoring my question.”

He smirked, “you could see the castle faintly in the background too.”

“Will really wanted to send it.” You quirked your brow while trying to read him.

“And you knew it would be safe with me. Is he with my parents?”

“No. He’s nearby with a very good friend.”

“Who?”

“Two-way street. What happened?”

“It’s a long story, but I solved it. Didn’t get the news in Ireland?” He was being cheeky but too many things flashed across his face that you couldn’t get a read on.

“She’s an agent, an excellent one, and a great friend. Vic was the one that intervened in Germany. You would like her a lot.”

He seemed to mull it over then moved on. “What did you figure out on the phone?”

“I connected a few dots but it wasn’t until we were on our way here that I found a suspect. Ever heard of Sebastian Moran?”

“How did you know that name?”

“I have my tricks too.”

He brushed his fingers over your stomach, “not tricks.”

“Hmm. Agree to disagree.” His hand pressed against your stomach and you glanced down when you felt the tremor he was trying to stop. “Sherlock?” You laid your hand on his, “you smell like a hospital and I noticed the tenderness around your ribs… Please tell me.”

He pulled your hand to his shoulder then leaned in close, you laid back on your pillow and he followed you as his gaze flitted over your face. “Later. I’m fine and I know we don’t have a lot of time tonight so can we pretend that everything beyond this bed doesn’t exist.” He brushed his hand through your hair then trailed across your jaw before his gaze found yours again and the tears that sparkled in his eyes flooded you with a sadness you were all too familiar with recently. “The only thing that can help me right now is you. Just you.”

You ran your fingers through the curls at the back of his neck before placing your thumb and forefinger at the base of his skull on either side of his spine then slid them down his neck with some light pressure. He closed his eyes and dropped his head slightly coming closer to your face. You whispered, “okay. Just us and nothing more.”

~~

The alarm on your phone chimed waking you from a dream you couldn’t grasp onto. Swirls of papers, case walls, pictures, rough waters in the lake, and Sherlock’s anguished voice pleading something. Fingers brushed feather-light over your cheek as you untangled from the dream’s last tendrils gripping you like thick stubborn weeds.

Sherlock didn’t say a word but you could see it in his eyes, he knew it was time for you to go and though he may not agree, he wouldn’t argue. You moved to the edge of the bed, turned off the alarm and noticed the date. You rolled back towards him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips then gazed into his eyes, his left eye looking worse in the dull gray of daybreak. “Happy birthday, love.”

He watched you with the softest expression before smiling. You kissed him again and then got out of bed. You walked over to the armoire and pulled on Sherlock’s housecoat before leaving the room for the bathroom.

When you strolled back into the room, Sherlock was dressed and had clothes laid out on the bed for you. You reached for your bra but he grasped your face and kissed you. It wasn’t like last night, this was a slow, tender meeting that had a sedating effect. When he pulled back, there was something in his gaze that pulled at you so deeply you stood transfixed as he brushed his house coat off your shoulders and placed it on the bed. He picked up the clothes, piece by piece, and dressed you. You had a child with the man in front of you, his hands had touched you in far more erotic ways and yet, there was something so intimate about it goosebumps covered your skin.

After he finished the last button on your blouse, he gazed down into your eyes. “The fear of death is survival, but the fear of life is deadly.”

You touched his cheek with a need to say so much but the words that came had nothing to do with your heart or at least, not exactly. “It’s the rooftop all over again. He was trying to make you prove you were like him, put your life above those closest to you, even though he knew you never would. I don’t know how, but he’s got someone with the same game plan.” The words made something flicker in the corner of your mind like a feather fluttering, the beginning of a thought but it burrowed deeper as you tried to pull it forward. Sherlock’s brow furrowed and you pressed on. “He’s trying to force you to understand, to taste his way of life but he was never really living his life, just seeking to destroy others until death found him. You see that, right?”

He pressed his hand against yours then turned his face into it and kissed your palm. “I know, I’ve felt it.”

“You’ve always lived your life seeking knowledge and truth and using it to help others. You are more than just his opposite, you have always been so much more than him, Sherlock. And not just because you have these people that care about you, they care about you because you are a great man who fights for what is right.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you wrapped your arms around him trying to pour every ounce of some deeper meaning into that kiss. Your chest tightened as you pulled back and stared into his eyes then your phone buzzed on the nightstand, just another reminder that your time was up. “You’ve always had the will to live but maybe, just maybe, you’ll do a little bit more of that living for yourself.” His brows furrowed and you backed away toward the window. “I know you have plans but I do too. I’ll see you soon.” You turned and saw the waiting taxi down in the alley.

“I would ask you what you’re planning but I already know what you’re going to say.”

You climbed out and smiled through the window at him. “I believe in Sherlock Holmes.”

He grinned, “and then you prove me wrong.”

“It’s a gift.” Then you slipped down the fire escape and glanced back once on your way to the taxi catching the sight of him at the window.

“Have fun?” Vic was leaning against the taxi with the door open.

You smiled in spite of her Cheshire Cat grin. “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.”

Will was laying in the back half asleep and you slipped in next to him careful not to disturb. Vic slid into the passenger seat and the man behind the wheel turned, flashing a grin. You furrowed your brow for a moment recognizing his face.

Vic turned around, “I went with an old friend for this morning’s drive. No need to get the word out too early. Mycroft has been doing a little digging and has a few lines for us to check out.”

“How did you?”

“Undercover Cabbie Taylor here is on one of those assignments. He owed me one.”

He turned and reached his hand over the seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You shook his hand, “I’ve cleared you before, haven’t I?”

“It was a while ago, but yeah.” He grinned as he turned back around. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Vic flashed wide eyes at him, “he’s a big fan of Sherlock’s and I think he’s a bit star struck right now.”

He glared at her, “everyone is a fan of Sherlock.”

You tamped down your smile as she laughed. “What are these leads?”

~~

Later that day, Y/n hadn’t been far from Sherlock’s mind. He thought about telling John but decided against it. He couldn’t come to a conclusion on exactly why he didn’t want to share, if it was selfish or protecting John or maybe both. Even after John brought her up, even accused him of possibly sneaking off to meet The Woman for a passionate night together after her text message came in. He thought about telling him about last night but then his whole speech had de-evolved into a confession.

He watched his closest friend talk to empty air like it was his dead wife. At the time, he knew there wasn’t much he should say, he just needed to be there for his friend but after a few moments alone while he dressed, he knew Y/n wouldn’t have let her friend go on thinking they were terrible for simply one bad decision. Maybe it happened for a while but it wasn’t as bad as John Watson made it out to be, at least from Sherlock’s point of view. Maybe Y/n would think differently but he felt he knew her well enough that she wouldn’t judge her friend so harshly.

He stopped at the door pulling on his coat and summoned every bit of that person that Y/n brought out in him and the one that John brought out in him. “It’s not my place to say but it was just texting. People text even I text, her, I mean the woman, bad idea, I try not but sometimes…” John’s brows rose, his mouth curving down. “Not like that,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “I spent a whole evening walking with a strange woman and I liked it. I liked the feeling that she seemed to like me.” John watched him quietly, his mouth becoming a tight line then faltering. “I miss Y/n. I miss the things that stirred inside me when she was around, the heat, the warmth, the craziness that I didn’t understand, and that’s probably a shit thing to say right now but you know I’ve never been good at this. I think we both know what she would say though.”

John looked away, “I try not to think about her being wherever she is.”

“It’s not a pleasant thought, John, but I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human.”

“Even you?”

He smiled, “what would Y/n say? Of course she would have all these terms and definitions and be able to explain every possible reaction to human nature and tell you it’s normal or a way of coping and we would nod knowing she was right, sometimes annoyingly…” John chuckled shaking his head. “But she would be right. We all know my faults in human behavior but you are not perfect either and there’s no reason that you should hold yourself to a higher standard especially if it’s just because of my faults. You are not a terrible person, John Watson.” Sherlock dropped his gaze then looked over to his chair. “I believe if she were here, she would tell you, from time to time, even the strongest among us break and need help. She had this saying that most of us are not single ships, that we weren’t…”

“Wired to sail alone. She was quite fond of that one.”

Sherlock looked back to John, “I think she would know all the right things to say and do to help you and I will never be as good but I’m here if you need anything. I’m here.”

John glanced over to the chair then cleared his throat. “Cake?”

“Cake.”

Next Chapter 

@missmotherhen , @run-your-cleverboy ,  @samanthasmileys , @panic-at-space-camp , @trash-trashaf , @whaledenwtf , @http-steve-rogers , @dead-lee-15

[cleverwolfpoetry]

Psycho-pass Movie Novel Chapter 3 - Part 2/2

The end of chapter 3…things are finally moving and Akane is about to leave for SEAUn. This is a nice second part of the chapter, all centered on the kind Sugou-san: I like him a lot and it’s a pity that this part wasn’t in the movie. He should have had more screen time.

Now, the story…hope you’ll like it.

    Note before reading: sentences in italics represent the character’s thoughts.

  3

  20 hours were left until the departure time of the direct flight headed to SEAUn ---.

In her office at the Criminal Investigation Department, Tsunemori was rearranging the documents containing the necessary data when the enforcer Sugou Teppei addressed her. 

“I heard you’ll fly to SEAUn”

Tsunemori nodded slightly.

“Yes”

“Enforcers aren’t allowed to accompany you” Sugou went on.

“Of course”

“And you aren’t going to ask for support from other inspectors”  

Tsunemori wasn’t displeased by Sugou’s honest objection.

“That’s because there’s no need”

“What about a bodyguard?”

“We have an agreement that the local military police and its drones will cooperate with me in the investigation”

“You’re really efficient, aren’t you?”

“Yes. This is one of my merits”

At this sentence, Tsunemori gave out with a slightly confident smile.

“I have some knowledge on places overseas”

Something vaguely dark crossed Sugou’s expression while he was saying so.

“…you were formerly occupied in the Navy National Borders Defensive System, weren’t you?”

Sugou had graduated in the field of information Engineering and was a former worker at the Ministry of Defense.

He belonged to the Navy Defensive System for the protection of the national borders. SOMETHING HAPPENED THERE* and he was moved from the Drones Unit to the Research & Development Unit. His hue worsened and he was labeled as latent criminal.

“Bullets fly everywhere. A man’s life has a low value overseas”

Because of Sugou’s threatening way of talking, “Hmm, it’s scary” Tsunemori eluded him slightly.

“What do you think about your own life?

“Eh…?”

Tsunemori was taken aback by Sugou’s simple question.

My own life --- am I prizing it?

When I think about it calmly --- I wonder about that question myself.

It took her some time, but Tsunemori had built a network of informants. It was a primitive HUMINT*. For that purpose, she had been frequently visiting the abandoned blocks too. Sibyl System wouldn’t have probably considered that thing agreeable.

There were many hazards around Tsunemori. For not dragging her friends into them, she was consciously reducing her social life too.

I wonder if recently there have been moments when I could think that something was pleasant from the bottom of my heart.

I wonder if I am alive now---

I wonder if there have been moments when I could feel it for real.

I should  acknowledge that.

(I don’t cherish my own life in front of a criminal)

Ginoza, Kunizuka, Sugou and Hinakawa too --- . All the Division 1 enforcers don’t seem to fear death. Yesterday’s fight with the terrorists was like that too and even if they exposed themselves to the gunfire, they were coolheaded. I have the feeling that the one and only clearly afraid of dying was Inspector Shimotsuki…

Which means... such a way of thinking like ‘I don’t cherish my own life’, could it be typical of a latent criminal?

If it is so, why does Tsunemori Akane’s hue never cloud? Why does it remain clear? The conclusion is always the same. I don’t understand Sibyl System’s thought.

“Sugou-san, what would you like to do?”

Tsunemori asked conversely.

“Eh…ah, well”

Sugou was clearly baffled.

“If you ask me what I’d like to do…”

“You don’t want me to go overseas, isn’t it? In short, you don’t you want me to die, isn’t it?”

“…”

“there are still some hours until the flight”

“…yes”

“Why don’t we go to the gym?”

“…yes?”

  Tsunemori and Sugou moved to the Public Safety Bureau’s training room and changed into their sportswear respectively in the locker rooms. Now they were facing each other on a large judo mat. As one would expect, Tsunemori’s body was too delicate compared to Sugou’s strong and muscular build.

“There’s quite a difference between our body weights. Usually, I don’t spar this way”

Sugou had a depressed look.

“If I get seriously injured just training here, I won’t neither be able to go to SEAUn”

At Tsunemori’s words, Sugou opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

“What are your intentions?”

“uhm ... my intentions …?”

If there was a need to come this far… neither Akane knew well.  It’s just that she felt like doing it, so she did.

“…understood. I won’t use rough moves, but …a headgear…just in case”

“Ok”

Both of them put on open finger gloves.

Akane wore a sports headgear too.

Sugou had only a sports supporter* as a protective equipment.

“Let’s go”

“Yes”

They set the sparring robot in arbiter mode.

Its task was to stop the one of them who would go too far.

Then they started the sparring.

Soon after they started, Sugou grabbed Tsunemori’s arm.

Seizing me this way, does he hope to finish the sparring amicably?

Sugou is strong.

However, he’s not the type who hits a superior all of a sudden with no hesitation.

There was a technique Tsunemori was eager to try for times like this.

“Uh…”

The moment Sugou grabbed her left wrist, Tsunemori stepped suddenly to the right.

By doing so, right after breaking down her opponent’s posture, she answered by grabbing with her right hand the one Sugou had used to grab her. Pulling Sugou’s hand on her shoulder with both hands and making sure to fold his arm, she immobilized him with a double-arm lock. She knocked him down in one breath. 

Dang! With a great noise, Sugou’s back hit the mat. Then, looking at Sugou’s helpless face, Tsunemori stopped just before the blow.

It is a fundamental of the self-defense art, but it is hard to use during a fight.

This time, the match had been entirely decided by Sugou’s inattention and tact*.

When Tsunemori removed her hands, Sugou instantly stood up.

“I’m sorry”

“Do we go for the next one?”

Just after the sparring restart, Tsunemori made a sharp slide.

“!”

From her low position, she wrapped Sugou’s leg. A sneak attack to the ankles.

Holding Sugou’s right leg between hers and grabbing his ankle with both hands, she twisted it.

“Uh!”

“To make up for a weight difference, there is nothing but the joint lock*, isn’t it?”

Overturned, Sugou tapped the mat.

Undoing the joint lock, Tsunemori stood up.

“Sugou-san, you are strong. However, you have gone too easy with me. Despite blows seem to be your strong point, you haven’t hit me once”

“You say I’ve gone easy to you, but you surely are strong too, Inspector Tsunemori. I’ve understood that your level is not the same as an inspector’s”                                              

 Sugou stood up too.

“Kougami Shinya has changed you”

“…”

Hearing that name, Tsunemori felt like she’d been stabbed in her chest.

“I don’t know the details. However, Kougami-san had such an influence on your life that you can’t go back. Training eagerly in martial arts too, it looks so”

“If I told you I don’t get it … it would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

--- is life precious?

The matter is not when will we die, it’s how we will die.

(Kougami-san, he would definitely say something like that, I guess)

It’s not only living.

Is there a sense in those deaths?

Kagari Shūsei’s death supports the present Tsunemori Akane.

Masaoka Tomomi’s death supports the present Ginoza Nobuchika.

If she herself died going across the sea, there should be a sense in that.

Turning towards Sugou and holding out her right hand, Tsunemori offered it to him.

“Let’s go”

“Somehow…”

Making up his mind, Sugou responded to her shakehand.

“…it’s like you must meet with Kougami Shinya one more time”     

    Late at night at the CID office of the Public Safety Bureau---. Maneuvering the keyboard, Tsunemori was arranging the documents that seemed to have some connection to SEAUn. She copied the information obtained with the memory scoop and went on with the arrangement of her investigation abroad. It’s late at night, and possibly there’s no one here --- or so she thought, but Ginoza entered quietly.

“…I asked for the permission to accompany you, but they rejected it”

Tsunemori stopped doing her work.

“I’m not surprised. The dispatch of an inspector abroad is such a singular case. Let alone enforcers”

“Is it Kougami?”

“…” Tsunemori’s expression hardened to Ginoza’s words.

Ginoza sat at his desk, Tsunemori installed the memory scoop on her portable terminal and stood up.

“I have a favor to ask you” Ginoza said.

“Eh?”

“If you manage to meet him again, give him a punch for me”

“I can’t do that”

“What?”

While making a light shadowboxing*, Tsunemori said

“When I find him, I will arrest and bring him back home. I want you to punch him personally, Ginoza-san”

Hearing that, Ginoza smiled wryly.

“I can’t tell if you have changed or you’re still the same…you’re a mystery as always”

  4

  Carrying a suitcase with her, Tsunemori stopped the car at Yokota Air Base*of the Ministry of Defense. In the unmanned, fully automated Yokota Air Base there were only two people responsible for the air traffic control, drones had replaced the staff for the most part. The ones arranging the plane and the one refueling it were all drones too.  

“--- bzz”

A sharp sound breaking the sound speed echoed far up in the sky. The unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV)* belonging to the Air Force System for the defense of the national borders,  jurisdiction of the Ministry of Defense, had taken off from the airstrip of this airport for the routine patrol.

There were two types of UAV: a large one used for reconnaissance and a small one used for fights.

Even if she was going overseas, Tsunemori was travelling lightly because she had no sightseeing purpose. Her suitcase was a self-moving type with small wheels, a model that came along with Tsunemori freely. Once gone through the necessary formalities at the reception control panel, she followed the holographic visual guide and went to the zone where aircrafts were parked --- the airport apron*. 

The transport jet plane, property of the Ministry of Defense, was waiting there ready to leave.

Near the transport plane, a male loadmaster* was receiving a report from a service drone.

The loadmaster noticed Tsunemori immediately.

“Inspector Tsunemori?”

“Yes!” as there was a loud noise on the flying ground, she naturally raised her voice.

“I’m the loadmaster Tanohata of the Ministry of Defense Air Force. I’m pleased to meet you”

“It’s my pleasure”   

“Thanks to this guy*, it’ll take us just three hours”

Saying so, Tanohata pointed proudly at the plain.

    NOTES TO TRANSLATION:

*SOMETHING HAPPENED THERE: I wrote it in capital letters because in the book this sentence is written with dots above the kanjis to underline it.

*HUMINT: Human intelligence (frequently abbreviated HUMINT) is intelligence gathered by means of interpersonal contact, as opposed to the more technical intelligence gathering disciplines such as signals intelligence (SIGINT), imagery intelligence (IMINT) and measurement and signature intelligence (MASINT).

NATO defines HUMINT as "a category of intelligence derived from information collected and provided by human sources." Typical HUMINT activities consist of interrogations and conversations with persons having access to information.

The manner in which HUMINT operations are conducted is dictated by both official protocol and the nature of the source of the information. Within the context of the U.S. military, most HUMINT activity does not involve clandestine activities. Both counter intelligence and HUMINT do include clandestine HUMINT and clandestine HUMINT operational techniques.

HUMINT can provide several kinds of information. It can provide observations during travel or other events from travelers, refugees, escaped friendly POWs, etc. It can provide data on things about which the subject has specific knowledge, which can be another human subject, or, in the case of defectors and spies, sensitive information to which they had access. Finally, it can provide information on interpersonal relationships and networks of interest.

HUMINT is both a source of positive intelligence, but also of information of strong counterintelligence value. Interviews should balance any known information requirements of both intelligence collection guidance and of counterintelligence requirements. (from Wikipedia)

This word is really interesting, I never heard it before. This translation is such a source of new information for me; I learn something new every time.

*supporter: it is a protective equipment which protects genitals from hits during fight.

*inattention and tact: here the author means that Sugou has too tact to attack her seriously because he fears he can hurt her and he’s also not too careful, so at the end he is easily beaten.

*joint lock: locking technique in judo. 

*shadowboxing: Shadowboxing is an exercise used in the training for combat sports, especially, as its name implies, in boxing. It is used mainly to prepare the muscles before the person training engages in stronger physical activity. In shadowboxing, only one person is required to participate; the participant throws punches at no one in particular. (from Wikipedia)

*Yokota Air Base: (横田飛行場, Yokota Hikōjō), is a United States Air Force base in the city of Fussa, one of 26 cities in the Tama Area, or Western Tokyo. (from Wikipedia)

*UAV: Acronym of the English translation for the word   無人航空機(UAV) , composed by 無人 (unmanned) and 航空機 (aerial vehicle).  

*airport apron: The airport apron is the area of an airport where aircraft are parked, unloaded or loaded, refueled, or boarded. Although the use of the apron is covered by regulations, such as lighting on vehicles, it is typically more accessible to users than the runway or taxiway. However, the apron is not usually open to the general public and a license may be required to gain access.

The apron is designated by the ICAO as not being part of the maneuvering area. All vehicles, aircraft and people using the apron are referred to as apron traffic. (from Wikipedia)

*loadmaster: A loadmaster is an aircrew member on civilian aircraft or military transport aircraft tasked with the safe loading, transport and unloading of aerial cargoes. Loadmasters serve in the militaries and civilian airlines of many nations. The loadmaster performs the calculations and plans cargo and passenger placement to keep the aircraft within permissible center of gravity limits throughout the flight. Loadmasters ensure cargo is placed on the aircraft in such a way as to prevent overloading sensitive sections of the airframe and cargo floor. Considerations are also given to civilian and military regulations which may prohibit the placement of one type of cargo in proximity to another. Unusual cargo may require special equipment to be loaded safely aboard the aircraft, limiting where the other cargo may feasibly be placed. Tactically, loadmasters may also directly affect combat readiness as they are also responsible for determining the load order of aircraft so that more tactically important material (e.g. ammunition) is off-loaded and therefore ready to deploy faster than other support items; this may be especially germane to forward operating bases.

The loadmaster may physically load the aircraft, but primarily supervises loading crews and procedures. Once positioned aboard the aircraft, the loadmaster ensures that their charge is properly secured, as an unexpected shift of the load can produce serious handling problems for the aircraft. Chains, straps, and integrated cargo locks are among the most common tools used to secure the cargo. Because cargo may shift during abrupt maneuvers, the loadmaster must determine the appropriate type(s), quantity and placement of cargo restraint.

*thanks to this guy: Tanohata is talking about his plane, called affectionately ‘this guy’.

[alertreadingquotes]

Weapons of Math Destruction, Cathy O'Neil

What are WMDs?

“The first question: Even if the participant is aware of being modeled, or what the model is used for, is the model opaque, or even invisible?... A key component of this suffering is the pernicious feedback loop. As we’ve seen, sentencing models that profile a person by his or her circumstances help to create the environment that justifies their assumptions. This destructive loop goes round and round, and in the process the model becomes more and more unfair.The third question is whether a model has the capacity to grow exponentially. As a statistician would put it, can it scale? This might sound like the nerdy quibble of a mathematician. But scale is what turns WMDs from local nuisances into tsunami forces, ones that define and delimit our lives. As we’ll see, the developing WMDs in human resources, health, and banking, just to name a few, are quickly establishing broad norms that exert upon us something very close to the power of law....

So to sum up, these are the three elements of a WMD: Opacity, Scale, and Damage”

“Shell Shocked: My Journey of Disillusionment

...

My challenge was to design an algorithm that would distinguish window shoppers from buyers. There were a few obvious signals. Were they logged into the service? Had they bought there before? But I also scoured for other hints. What time of day was it, and what day of the year? Certain weeks are hot for buyers. The Memorial Day “bump,” for example, occurs in mid-spring, when large numbers of people make summer plans almost in unison. My algorithm would place a higher value on shoppers during these periods, since they were more likely to buy. The statistical work, as it turned out, was highly transferable from the hedge fund to e-commerce—the biggest difference was that, rather than the movement of markets, I was now predicting people’s clicks. In fact, I saw all kinds of parallels between finance and Big Data. Both industries gobble up the same pool of talent, much of it from elite universities like MIT, Princeton, or Stanford. These new hires are ravenous for success and have been focused on external metrics—like SAT scores and college admissions—their entire lives. Whether in finance or tech, the message they’ve received is that they will be rich, that they will run the world. Their productivity indicates that they’re on the right track, and it translates into dollars. This leads to the fallacious conclusion that whatever they’re doing to bring in more money is good. It “adds value.” Otherwise, why would the market reward it? In both cultures, wealth is no longer a means to get by. It becomes directly tied to personal worth. A young suburbanite with every advantage—the prep school education, the exhaustive coaching for college admissions tests, the overseas semester in Paris or Shanghai—still flatters himself that it is his skill, hard work, and prodigious problem-solving abilities that have lifted him into a world of privilege. Money vindicates all doubts. And the rest of his circle plays along, forming a mutual admiration society. They’re eager to convince us all that Darwinism is at work, when it looks very much to the outside like a combination of gaming a system and dumb luck. In both of these industries, the real world, with all of its messiness, sits apart. The inclination is to replace people with data trails, turning them into more effective shoppers, voters, or workers to optimize some objective. This is easy to do, and to justify, when success comes back as an anonymous score and when the people affected remain every bit as abstract as the numbers dancing across the screen. I was already blogging as I worked in data science, and I was also getting more involved with the Occupy movement. More and more, I worried about the separation between technical models and real people, and about the moral repercussions of that separation. In fact, I saw the same pattern emerging that I’d witnessed in finance: a false sense of security was leading to widespread use of imperfect models, self-serving definitions of success, and growing feedback loops. Those who objected were regarded as nostalgic Luddites. I wondered what the analogue to the credit crisis might be in Big Data. Instead of a bust, I saw a growing dystopia, with inequality rising. The algorithms would make sure that those deemed losers would remain that way. A lucky minority would gain ever more control over the data economy, raking in outrageous fortunes and convincing themselves all the while that they deserved it. After a couple of years working and learning in the Big Data space, my journey to disillusionment was more or less complete, and the misuse of mathematics was accelerating. In spite of blogging almost daily, I could barely keep up with all the ways I was hearing of people being manipulated, controlled, and intimidated by algorithms. It started with teachers I knew struggling under the yoke of the value-added model, but it didn’t end there. Truly alarmed, I quit my job to investigate the issue in earnest.”

On perverse incentives caused by WMDs.

“Students in the Chinese city of Zhongxiang had a reputation for acing the national standardized test, or gaokao, and winning places in China’s top universities. They did so well, in fact, that authorities began to suspect they were cheating. Suspicions grew in 2012, according to a report in Britain’s Telegraph, when provincial authorities found ninety-nine identical copies of a single test. The next year, as students in Zhongxiang arrived to take the exam, they were dismayed to be funneled through metal detectors and forced to relinquish their mobile phones. Some surrendered tiny transmitters disguised as pencil erasers. Once inside, the students found themselves accompanied by fifty-four investigators from different school districts. A few of these investigators crossed the street to a hotel, where they found groups positioned to communicate with the students through their transmitters. The response to this crackdown on cheating was volcanic. Some two thousand stone-throwing protesters gathered in the street outside the school. They chanted, “We want fairness. There is no fairness if you don’t let us cheat.” It sounds like a joke, but they were absolutely serious. The stakes for the students were sky high. As they saw it, they faced a chance either to pursue an elite education and a prosperous career or to stay stuck in their provincial city, a relative backwater. And whether or not it was the case, they had the perception that others were cheating. So preventing the students in Zhongxiang from cheating was unfair. In a system in which cheating is the norm, following the rules amounts to a handicap...

Each college’s admissions model is derived, at least in part, from the U.S. News model, and each one is a mini-WMD. These models lead students and their parents to run in frantic circles and spend obscene amounts of money. And they’re opaque. This leaves most of the participants (or victims) in the dark. But it creates a big business for consultants, like Steven Ma, who manage to learn their secrets, either by cultivating sources at the universities or by reverse-engineering their algorithms. The victims, of course, are the vast majority of Americans, the poor and middle-class families who don’t have thousands of dollars to spent on courses and consultants. They miss out on precious insider knowledge. The result is an education system that favors the privileged. It tilts against needy students, locking out the great majority of them—and pushing them down a path toward poverty. It deepens the social divide. But even those who claw their way into a top college lose out. If you think about it, the college admissions game, while lucrative for some, has virtually no educational value. The complex and fraught production simply re-sorts and reranks the very same pool of eighteen-year-old kids in newfangled ways. They don’t master important skills by jumping through many more hoops or writing meticulously targeted college essays under the watchful eye of professional tutors. Others scrounge online for cut-rate versions of those tutors. All of them, from the rich to the working class, are simply being trained to fit into an enormous machine—to satisfy a WMD. And at the end of the ordeal, many of them will be saddled with debt that will take decades to pay off. They’re pawns in an arms race, and it’s a particularly nasty one.”

On opaque ranking systems that boil universities down to ordinal rankings without explicitly describing the variables used to compare them.

“Perhaps it was just as well that the Obama administration failed to come up with a rejiggered ranking system. The pushback by college presidents was fierce. After all, they had spent decades optimizing themselves to satisfy the U.S. News WMD. A new formula based on graduation rates, class size, alumni employment and income, and other metrics could wreak havoc with their ranking and reputation. No doubt they also made good points about the vulnerabilities of any new model and the new feedback loops it would generate. So the government capitulated. And the result might be better. Instead of a ranking, the Education Department released loads of data on a website. The result is that students can ask their own questions about the things that matter to them—including class size, graduation rates, and the average debt held by graduating students. They don’t need to know anything about statistics or the weighting of variables. The software itself, much like an online travel site, creates individual models for each person. Think of it: transparent, controlled by the user, and personal. You might call it the opposite of a WMD.“

Biases in hiring WMDs

“Defenders of the tests note that they feature lots of questions and that no single answer can disqualify an applicant. Certain patterns of answers, however, can and do disqualify them. And we do not know what those patterns are. We’re not told what the tests are looking for. The process is entirely opaque. What’s worse, after the model is calibrated by technical experts, it receives precious little feedback. Again, sports provide a good contrast here. Most professional basketball teams employ data geeks, who run models that analyze players by a series of metrics, including foot speed, vertical leap, free-throw percentage, and a host of other variables. When the draft comes, the Los Angeles Lakers might pass on a hotshot point guard from Duke because his assist statistics are low. Point guards have to be good passers. Yet in the following season they’re dismayed to see that the rejected player goes on to win Rookie of the Year for the Utah Jazz and leads the league in assists. In such a case, the Lakers can return to their model to see what they got wrong. Maybe his college team was relying on him to score, which punished his assist numbers. Or perhaps he learned something important about passing in Utah. Whatever the case, they can work to improve their model. Now imagine that Kyle Behm, after getting red-lighted at Kroger, goes on to land a job at McDonald’s. He turns into a stellar employee. He’s managing the kitchen within four months and the entire franchise a year later. Will anyone at Kroger go back to the personality test and investigate how they could have gotten it so wrong? Not a chance, I’d say. The difference is this: Basketball teams are managing individuals, each one potentially worth millions of dollars. Their analytics engines are crucial to their competitive advantage, and they are hungry for data. Without constant feedback, their systems grow outdated and dumb. The companies hiring minimum-wage workers, by contrast, are managing herds. They slash expenses by replacing human resources professionals with machines, and those machines filter large populations into more manageable groups. Unless something goes haywire in the workforce—an outbreak of kleptomania, say, or plummeting productivity—the company has little reason to tweak the filtering model. It’s doing its job—even if it misses out on potential stars. The company may be satisfied with the status quo, but the victims of its automatic systems suffer. And as you might expect, I consider personality tests in hiring departments to be WMDs. They check all the boxes. First, they are in widespread use and have enormous impact. The Kronos exam, with all of its flaws, is scaled across much of the hiring economy. Under the previous status quo, employers no doubt had biases. But those biases varied from company to company, which might have cracked open a door somewhere for people like Kyle Behm. That’s increasingly untrue. And Kyle was, in some sense, lucky. Job candidates, especially those applying for minimum-wage work, get rejected all the time and rarely find out why. It was just chance that Kyle’s friend happened to hear about the reason for his rejection and told him about it. Even then, the case against the big Kronos users would likely have gone nowhere if Kyle’s father hadn’t been a lawyer, one with enough time and money to mount a broad legal challenge. This is rarely the case for low-level job applicants. * Finally, consider the feedback loop that the Kronos personality test engenders. Red-lighting people with certain mental health issues prevents them from having a normal job and leading a normal life, further isolating them. This is exactly what the Americans with Disabilities Act is supposed to prevent.

The majority of job applicants, thankfully, are not blackballed by automatic systems. But they still face the challenge of moving their application to the top of the pile and landing an interview...The hiring market, clearly, was still poisoned by prejudice...As you might expect, human resources departments rely on automatic systems to winnow down piles of résumés. In fact, some 72 percent of résumés are never seen by human eyes. Computer programs flip through them, pulling out the skills and experiences that the employer is looking for. Then they score each résumé as a match for the job opening. It’s up to the people in the human resources department to decide where the cutoff is, but the more candidates they can eliminate with this first screening, the fewer human-hours they’ll have to spend processing the top matches. So job applicants must craft their résumés with that automatic reader in mind. It’s important, for example, to sprinkle the résumé liberally with words the specific job opening is looking for. This could include positions (sales manager, chief financial officer, software architect), languages (Mandarin, Java), or honors (summa cum laude, Eagle Scout). Those with the latest information learn what machines appreciate and what tangles them up... The result of these programs, much as with college admissions, is that those with the money and resources to prepare their résumés come out on top. Those who don’t take these steps may never know that they’re sending their résumés into a black hole. It’s one more example in which the wealthy and informed get the edge and the poor are more likely to lose out.”

[callmemoprah]

The Alternative Wes Moore 1 Title, A pair of Fates

I do think it is another of such stories that might have made a much better newspaper document, as an alternative to remaining padded out to e-book length. Jodi Snyder Uk One hundred and one Nichole Stevens 07/18/2014 The Other Western Moore Might a couple adult men having much the same backdrops get older to be completely different? To the west Moore requires united states on a Vacation time for his or her youth along with the years as a child assertive using the same label. Then it’s time each people for taking accountability for our own weak points, go back high on of which indy, and get back the particular reins of our own pride. Western world procedes show to us all the way it works associated with the time in armed service classes. Of course, we know that possessing a solid help would make achievement easy for little ones, in spite of the financial aspects of these entry into the world. The Some other Wes Moore is a intriguing look at the day-to-day lives connected with not one but two men, equally known as Wes Moore, the two from low-income individuals, both equally coming from un-privileged elegant qualification.

I propose them for anyone who wishes to become up against many of the most hard problems today in the United States ( space ) how can we equally support and motivate adolescents to create good choices, to go up concerning their situations? Exactly how should we transform associations to make certain young according to a essay masters blog people, such as other Wes Moore, will not drop through the crevices? . Within the guide Western side informs us around the chitchats one other West and the man had. In short, this author has a inspiring narrative and is particularly having a positive example intended for troubled junior. The ebook ranges your everyday life of the children while in the 1980s and 1990s displaying the way the country can be a key component either in encouraging it is youngsters or perhaps neglecting to accomplish that. Beyond that he continued becoming a Phi Try out Kappa graduate from David Hopkins. Western side remains pleased for this today. One is your Rhodes graduate student in addition to Johns Hopkins grad who was any lecturer within the 2007 Democratic Meeting.

Felipe Cordoba rated that appreciated it

The actual locked up Moore will continue to refute his involvement, despite important data on the contrary. Now i am still left questioning how you will supply them with in which community. “(74) His or her mum http://www.oakton.edu/current/probation.pdf Margaret, wasn’t in any respect concerned about West’s issue. This author’s remember to brush while using law sounded similar to every single teenager’s run-in with the police officers, and yet another Wes Moore’s seemed to be a lot more extreme. At Johns Hopkins this individual appeared to be recognized with the Baltimore Nfl and college football Arena regarding Popularity.

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I’d take a look at publication away. While doing so, The sun’s rays was run­ning sto­ries -even­tu­ally in excess of Hundred with all-about a number of African-American guys who ended up being charged with the mur­der of the off-duty Bal­ti­more law enforcement officials offi­cer n . So practice several good procrastination and focus the following e-book? 1st, it’s a quick understand, consequently you’ll rapidly go back to this dilemma placed, paper, or looking at you’re meant to be carrying out. When it came through his / her experience or maybe was a element in his or her gaining this life experience is really a chicken-or-egg query, yet it’s exceptional and in all probability not only a reasonable evaluation for one more particular person. Disclaimer: I’ve satisfied this author Wes Moore. Just what changed was that I found by myself surrounded by individuals .

Lesson mastered: Generate study ebooks a tad bit more generally. The novel starts with Wes and also Wes’s chat of the fathers. One among the very first reminiscences to be there was, “Get upwards, stand up, get rid of your shelving, plebes! ” (Eighty five). Wes just couldn’t get rid of the particular unsettling chance, or even the inkling the two provided much more than place while in the exact same classifieds. There’s any gripping story below, the one that in the event you aren’t aware of, you should be. Subsequent, you will find pictures (along with exactly who doesn’t including shots in magazines!). Your jailed West informs the article author just how he put into practice as part of his sibling Tony’s steps, getting into your medication field.

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The conclusion the a couple adult men discussed very similar upbringings can be rarely tenable. This is able to glimmer a light upon some of the wide spread issues that inner locations on most significant places in the usa facial area while struggling with inquiries close to decisions and private liability. Within your chat, evaluate the schooling degrees of equally Weses’ mums, just how far each dude got as part of his training, the particular chances many people attained or even lost on account of their education, along with causes of carrying on and also stopping the experiments. This narrative, an adapting to it with regard to the younger generation of the person precious moment The Different Wes Moore (08), considers this everyday life associated with a couple of younger African-American guys that talk about exactly the same label and were raised impoverished on the very same inner-city streets but wound up getting very different routes. We may write a customized essay in The Other Wes Moore for anyone for solely 16.38 13.90/page Both gentlemen ended up profiled within the Baltimore Sunshine for their acts, which happens to be where by The Additional Wes Moore will begin. That will certainly, you will have troubles, however if you simply do their best adequate and are also fortunate enough to have the service, you can do anything at all.

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A person man rests imprisonment in this critique is founded on a pair of improve evidences i always won inside of a Goodreads Giveaway. It has to have got a various impact psychologically to know you had a parent that could have already been presently there available for you acquired this individual never sadly passed away, compared to know that you have a residing pops it doesn’t offer a bs about yourself. The ebook focuses on the story with a couple boys with the exact same companies – Wes Moore. I propose the idea for wishes to always be facing among the most challenging concerns today in the states ( blank ) how can we each assistance as well as promote young adults for making healthy choices, to go up about their situation? How can we change institutions to be sure that younger people, such as additional Wes Moore, never drop over the cracks? . This individual dissertation help uk was obviously a pupil staff member inside the Employment Facility while i labored with Johns Hopkins.

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In the year because, I’ve seen Wes Moore, the writer, like a panelist for “Meet the actual Press” plus “Morning Joe” as well as I’ve recently been astounded by their polite strategy to difficulties. Which is the reason, as Wes understands, there is not any sole moment or maybe solution however a variety of events, reminiscences, conclusions and other people which have just about all likewise afflicted the two Wes’s everyday life. He has in addition spo­ken within the Nation’s Foun­da­tion to get Teach­ing Entre­pre­neur­ship (NFTE) Busi­ness Plan Com­pe­ti­tion, South­ern Local Con­fer­ence with the National Soci­ety connected with Edu­ca­tors, this edu­ca­tion alter ses­sion from the lastly once-a-year Battle & Rec­on­cil­i­a­tion throughout Amer­ica con­fer­ence, as well as the first 9/11 Country wide Day’s Ser­vice and also Memories. I’m quit wanting to know the way we supply them with this network.

He’s more detailed my own creation, in addition to it’s wonderful to discover people my age on the telly from time to time presenting why not a marginally various take as opposed to seniors. I. Wes Moore succeeds with getting his or her book’s tagline our health, exposing your catastrophe and also scary simple fact the fact that protagonists’ life have been flipped. Can you agree?

Source: http://mobimatic.io/2019/03/28/the-alternative-wes-moore-1-title-a-pair-of-fates/