#holy mackerel what a long scene

[blackjackkent]

Rakha's anxiety definitely spikes as soon as she enters the coronation chamber.

She's struggled quite a bit with how populous Rivington is compared to the other places she has any memory of, but at least nowhere in Rivington did every single eye in the room turn to face her as soon as she entered.

They've apparently arrived just as proceedings are getting underway, as the guests - patriars, Wyll called them, the city's upper crust - have started to assemble themselves. The room is high-ceilinged and oppressively ornate, and there are so many people, enough that the beast immediately starts rumbling hungrily in the back of her mind with thoughts of all their deaths.

At the far end of the carpet runner, Gortash and Ravengard are standing shoulder to shoulder. Gortash doesn't seem to have noticed their arrival yet - but something else has. A Steel Watcher nearby halts in its patrol and rounds on them, looming down over the group.

"STAND DOWN, VILLAIN," it intones, that nondescript voice somehow managing to nevertheless sound imposing. "IN THE NAME OF THE STEEL WATCH. AGGRESSIVE ACTION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PATRIARS OF THIS PROUD CITY."

"And here I thought we had an invitation," Jaheira murmurs behind her.

Rakha swallows a snort. "I'm not taking orders from a piece of metal," she tells the Watcher tiredly. If Gortash had a problem with her presence here, he wouldn't have welcomed her - unless this is a trap, in which case anything she says doesn't matter anyway.

"CORRECT YOUR TONE, CITIZEN," the Watcher growls-- but whatever corrective action it has in mind is abruptly curtailed as Gortash's voice rings out over the crowd.

"Dearest patriars, dearest Ravengard, but a moment!" he calls brightly. "The Blade of Frontiers graces our halls - and he's wearing his devilish best."

The mocking announcement has the effect Gortash presumably intended. The stillness of the hall bursts into a flurry of gossipy whispers, all eyes now on Wyll as Gortash closes with the group.

"My father..." Wyll whispers. "He's here..."

And indeed, Ravengard's eyes flick towards them as well. They land on Wyll but stay there for only a moment, sliding away again with careless disinterest. The blank gaze is chilling and all too familiar - the tadpole's influence.

Rakha wants to turn, to reach out to Wyll - he will need the comfort he has offered to her in the past - but there is no time for this. Gortash has reached them and his fingers grasp sharply at her elbow; she flinches at the unexpected contact, but his grip is like iron. Without preamble, he draws her towards a corner of the room and out of direct attention. The others trail behind her, every one of them on guard.

(A/N: In-game, this whole conversation takes place in the direct center of the hall where everyone can both hear and see it; this didn't make a ton of sense with Hector but makes even less with Rakha. XD So I'm describing what I think the intention is here even though the game doesn't reflect it visually.)

"Crawling back from your bloody disgrace..." he murmurs. "It's my favorite assassin. Gods, you're a sight for sore eyes." His gaze traces over her from head to foot and back - appraising, satisfied. There's a subtle note of something like hunger in his expression that she can't quite account for. "Orin told me she made a fool of you," he says dryly, "but I should've known you wouldn't go down that easy..."

Rakha feels a strange twisting in her gut, that complicated set of emotions that she doesn't have an exact name for. It's fear and excitement simultaneously - the anticipation of a discovery out of her past and the terror of what that discovery might be, for none of them so far have been good. The strange, inescapable warmth that comes with being recognized with a smile, and the chill that follows, knowing the smile to be Gortash's. The flicker of familiarity and the desperate rejection of it.

And the beast's growl, of course. You could kill him too. Perhaps you would have, in time... before...

"You know me?" she asks, and curses the unsteadiness in her voice in spite of her attempt to control it.

He lounges back on his heels and considers her thoughtfully. "Then she didn't lie..." he murmurs. "The past is lost to you." Is it disappointment she sees in his expression? Or simply disdain. "Let me clear up some mysteries, then." His lips curve in a faint smile. "We share so much history."

He begins to pace a few steps back and forth in front of her as he speaks, though his eyes never leave her. "You and I initiated this plot. We discussed in depth the failures of our predecessors and how to avoid them. We understood that if we were to unite, no one could stand in the way of the Dead Three." He clenches one fist tightly. "So unite we did. First we obtained the crown, then we enslaved the brain. From there, it was but a small step to the most successful religious hoax ever perpetrated."

Rakha's blood feels as if it has turned to ice. The implications of Gortash's words sink in slowly but click together, implacable, fact and fact and fact, the truth of who and what she is.

She was not simply a member of the Absolutist cult before her memory was taken, before Orin struck her down. She was a founder; she stood in Orin's place at Gortash's side. She conceived the plan to enslave the brain.

It doesn't make sense. Tyranny is Bane's purview, not Bhaal's. Why, even in her blood-soaked past, would she choose this convoluted plan to dominate the world?

She cannot bear to turn and see the look of dismay that must be painted across Wyll's face, across Jaheira's, perhaps even across Lae'zel's. And she truly cannot bear to see the excitement that must be written clearly across Minthara's.

"What was my role in this plan?" she asks. She's regained a little control over her voice; the trembling has moved to settle more subtly in her fingertips.

Gortash smiles. "In Bhaal's name, you set your bloody daggers to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute's name. You would have carried out that part of the plan, had Orin not ruined your hard work."

He jerks his head to indicate the path she came down. "Next, the threat of the Absolute's monstrous armies formed by Myrkul's general, Ketheric Thorm. In such circumstances, people crave strong leaders. Leaders that bring law, order, and protection. Leaders like me, Bane's unyielding hand, author of justice."

His smile takes on a brittle knife-edge aspect and his eyes glint with sudden fanatical light. "You are soon to witness the people of Baldur's Gate granting me complete power over them. All out of fear of the Absolute. The faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

He clicks his tongue with an air of disappointment. "It was all going so well - until you vanished. Orin informed us that henceforth *she* would speak for the temple of Bhaal and act on their behalf." He rolls his eyes petulantly. "But she made a mess of things. Unlike you, she cannot control herself."

Memories flick-flick-flick through her head, scattered images -- Gortash's face, the brain, the crown, the power, the blood of those they killed to make it happen. And the beast's growl overlays with it, melds through it: Yes... a beautiful plot... and when the end came, the blood of all we slaughtered would flow like a waterfall... even Gortash did not know the carnage we planned...

She feels sick, the two halves of her mind ripping and tearing at each other, the beast savage with excitement and the rest of her straining to hold it back.

She remembers, suddenly, a sheet of paper scribbled in a messy, scrawling hand deep in the pit of Moonrise Towers. Her *own* hand, though she didn't recognize it.

Father, you created me to be the last soul alive. When the time is right, and my power is assured I will slaughter Gortash and Ketheric upon your altar, where I myself hope to die when the world itself is gasping its last. At the end of this all, Father, there will be not a single creature living. Everyone will die. Everyone will die for YOU. I will make you proud.

"You are mistaken if you think I can control myself," she mutters hoarsely.

He quirks an eyebrow, then laughs and claps her on the shoulder. The touch sends a lighting jolt through her body and she has to swallow a noise of almost-pain.

"Have you gone soft?" he asks dismissively. "I find that hard to believe. One's true nature always rises to the top." He waves a hand as if knocking her concerns aside, and continues, "When Ketheric fell, I feared the worst - that our plans would fail like so many before, because of discord among ourselves. Now you've returned, we can achieve all our dreams still. You brought Thorm's Netherstone."

He waits, expectantly, for her nod, which she gives after a short pause. What use denying it?

He nods in answer, lifts his hand on which he wears a bracer with the second stone embedded into its metal lining.

"You know, it takes all three to control the brain," he says with a pensive air. "Without Thorm's, it's become vexingly wilful. The quakes are a clear warning. If nobody steps in soon, it'll free itself from the authority of the Crown."

He stops pacing abruptly and fixes her with a keen, piercing, knowing look. "I expect it'll start with turning the Sword Coast's infected - you among them. That Prism of yours won't last indefinitely. Next, the Grand Design, the mind flayer empire reborn. If we're lucky, we'll become slaves. If we're unlucky... well. A bleak prospect."

He smiles again, reaches out and takes her hand; the feeling of his palm on hers makes her skin crawl. "But it's a fate that can be avoided," he says, "if you and I renew our old partnership. Together we can still restore authority over the brain."

She yanks her hand out of his sharply and takes a step back, trying to regain a sense of personal space.

She doesn't understand him, doesn't understand what he wants from her. Surely he knows she killed Ketheric, that she came here as his enemy. And yet he seems to take it as a given that, now that she knows the score, she will want to pick up with him just as they'd planned, control the brain and put the Sword Coast under their thrall.

And she could.

The thought falls through her brain like an ice block. She could make that choice in this moment. She could turn her back on everything, join him, destroy Orin, control the brain, kill, kill, kill, kill, killkillkillKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLkill-- everyone, everything. The river of blood would be hers and there would be no more straining to be two people instead of one, no more inward struggle, no more pain. Nothing would hurt anymore. She would be what she was born to be.

She starts to tremble all over, her breath quickening and her heart racing.

I can't. Wyll...

What does Wyll matter against destiny?

"Why is the crown failing?" she asks, buying herself time while the war rages in her head.

Gortash shrugs. "It's not. But it will not follow new orders unless the Netherstones are united to give the command. When it finishes executing its current orders, it will be free to do as it wishes. That would be bad for everyone," he says pointedly. "The crown's magic turned the brain into something the world has never seen. A Netherbrain. Its power is immense. Once it is freed from its shackles, I doubt we'll ever be able to bring it under control again."

Another layer. Another threat. Gortash would be easier to kill than the brain; perhaps he can be convinced they are on the same side long enough to let her deal with the hundred other things going wrong. Perhaps they can use him, just long enough, just enough...

Perhaps this is how madmen rationalize their madness...

"I want to avenge myself," she says haltingly. "I want to strike at Orin." It's not a lie, and not quite an acceptance - it's a diversion, nothing more, a desperate play for breathing room.

Gortash smiles again, and there's triumph in it this time. He thinks she is agreeing, allying with him, even if she has not said any such thing out loud. "Ousting Orin and helping you reclaim your birthright would be my greatest honor," he says gravely. "With Ketheric gone, Orin proves treacherous. She wants the Netherstones for herself." He scoffs, shaking his head. "She only cares for blood. And your blood and mine are of particular interest to her."

Rakha swallows. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. "What are you getting at?" she snaps, too sharply.

"Orin changes shape faster than you and I change clothes," Gortash says matter-of-factly. "You know. She's tricked you before. She's targeted me as well. I'm well-protected, but she's extremely good at what she does. If Orin obtains all three Netherstones, she'll plunge the Coast into chaos and paint the city in blood."

Blood. Rakha's head twinges and her stomach churns.

"I can't let that happen," Gortash finishes. "I want to lead this city to glory, not scorch its earth. So I turn to you - the former ruler of the Cult of Bhaal."

Foolish... Rakha thinks, and the thought is a melding of her own mind and the beast. To ally with me would be to seal your own doom. And the blood would flow in the end, a cleaner cut than Orin's, perhaps, but a slice of the jugular of the world all the same. The thought makes her body tingle all over and she feels a sudden frantic urge to tear off her own skin.

"What do you propose?" Her voice sounds far away in her own ears.

Again that eager, hungry look flickers across Gortash's eyes. "Let's make our pact anew. A divine oath sworn upon spirit and flesh. I do no harm to you, nor you to me. Furthermore you'll have nothing to fear from my Steel Watch while our pact stands. Thorm's stone is yours to keep. When you slay Orin and take her stone, you bring it here, so the three are united once again."

He steps closer to her again, one hand lifting to her shoulder, and she can feel the heat of his breath against her jaw. "Together, we rule Faerun as kings. No - more than kings. Gods. We rule as the Absolute."

"And-- my father?" Wyll starts to ask. But the question is lost, fading out of Rakha's ears as the beast squirms exciteably in her head.

Narrator: The Urge, the deplorably brutal Urge sickens within you. When you level the world over, that dead world must be yours alone. But first... you will rule. Then you will ruin.

"What do you say?" Gortash murmurs. "Shall we be allies?"

Abruptly, the Emperor's voice ripples through her head, overlaying the keening excitement of the beast. "I can detect no deceit," it comments. "This alliance could serve us well. And if it does not... well, we need not honor it..."

"He wants what we want," comes Minthara's voice to join the others in Rakha's head. "Orin dead and the elder brains subjugated. An alliance would serve us well."

It's all too much. She can't think. She must acquiesce, if only to have time to clear her head.

(A/N: There are a few class-specific possible responses for accepting Gortash's pact; Rakha in-game got a BARD option which was very uncharacteristic for her. So I dug in the dialogue files for the standard response instead cos it fits a bit better.)

"I will defeat Orin," she whispers. "And we will be allies. You have my oath."

What matters it to her if she breaks a divine oath? What god does she follow but Bhaal?

Her brain statics angrily. I will use you as long as you're useful. I will destroy Orin. I will destroy the brain. And then I will destroy you.

And then I will destroy the world... murmurs the beast.

No... she struggles to insist. Then it will be done. And I will turn away... But her voice feels very small, and very frightened, in comparison to the roiling storm of blood-rage it stands against.

Gortash nods, and his smirk widens. "Then let it be writ by the Black Hand of Bane," he says somberly. "I, Lord Enver Gortash, swear I shall do you no harm. We will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun."

He draws back out of her immediate space, but the smirk doesn't fade. "Let me demonstrate why you made the right choice," he goes on, and his tone is suddenly all business, brittle and cool. "Your camp is compromised. One among you is an imposter - a Faceless. Who, I can't say; I'd suggest a thorough investigation. You'll find I speak the truth."

Rakha's blood runs cold. Just as Minthara said might happen. At her side, Wyll stiffens.

"An imposter. But who in the Hells..."

"The Faceless in your camp is like a knife to your throat," Gortash goes on, ignoring Wyll completely. "Remove it, quickly, or any alliance between us would be exceedingly short-lived."

Rakha swallows. "I must go," she mutters. She needs to get away from this conversation. The ache in her head is blinding, and everything has changed...

Again Gortash rests his hand casually on her arm with that eager, hungry smile. "Before you do," he murmurs, "come witness as I make history as the first Archduke of Baldur's Gate."

Rakha tries to shake his hand away. "I have no interest in this sham of a ceremony," she growls. She may have agreed to this pact, but she doesn't need to watch him take control of Wyll's city--

His fingertips dig abruptly, painfully, into her arm and his smile turns brittle. "Then allow me to pique it for you."

Narrator: Your brain twists and stretches under the Watcher's gaze. The pain almost brings you to your knees before fading.

The agony whites out her vision and she staggers, almost toppling over except for Gortash's iron grip on her arm.

"You will follow me," he says coldly. "And you will show due respect."

-----

She doesn't absorb anything about the ceremony. Her head is roiling with pain and agitation, the beast and whatever better nature she has battling viciously inside her mind. It takes some time for her heart to return to a normal pace, and a while longer for her to gain the courage to look at her companions.

Lae'zel's eyes are not on the ceremony but on Rakha herself; her expression is unreadable but her fingertips dance on the hilt of the blade at her side, betraying her agitation. Minthara, damn her, looks pleased - of all of them, she is the only one that unequivocally believes this was the right choice.

Jaheira's eyes are hooded over. Her gaze flicks across the entire room taking in each patriar's face, each Steel Watcher, each shadow. She catches Rakha's eyes for a brief moment in this roving survey, and she tips her head to one side, then nods slightly. The unspoken understanding touches just the edge of Rakha's roiling mind with a hint of calm. We work with the tools we have, she seems to say. I have not let you slip yet. I will not begin now.

And Wyll... Wyll says nothing. Wyll does not move. Wyll's eyes remain fixed on his father for every moment of the ceremony, and he does not look at Rakha at all.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E127 (March 2, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are, of course, Ashley Johnson and Marisha Ray!

Marisha, on her thought process behind the date: “It was a fascinating study on designing something with another player in trying to navigating how to do that in a way that makes sense and wouldn’t be too metagamey or overly scripted or anything like that. I had a bunch of ideas thought out, then I just typed it out and sent it over to him, and then he interpreted it as such.” Liam had ideas, but Marisha wanted him to keep the details a surprise. The theme of “let’s start over” was the leading motif for the design. Three acts: pre-game cocktails at the Nestled Nook, picnic in a field of Xhorhasian wildflowers, and then close it with after-dinner drinks and hot tub at the Steam’s Respite. And the very last thing was “and all the cats were dogs”. Brian: “What was his response to that?” Marisha: “He texted me and was like, ‘Are you serious or is this dog thing a joke?’”

Ashley is asked what it was like to know it was coming but not know the specifics. “For both of us, I don’t think we thought it was going to be right then. I think because it’s been so long in the relationship between Beau and Yasha and it felt like such a natural progression for the two of them, and they’re both awkward together. I think there was something to just being thrown into it.” She spent time thinking about what things Yasha would talk to Beau about on a date. “We got to maybe one of them. It was just so fun! Exploring romance in D&D can be super weird, especially when you’re streaming. But it felt like that’s where our characters were going. There was that excitement of trying something that is out of my comfort zone, and I think so much of Marisha was part of that, as being the initiator as Beau, where I was like, okay, this is where it’s going it. Let’s do it, let’s see what happens!” She mentions how “fun and freeing” it is to trust your improv partner in something like this.

Marisha: “I just wanted Beau to be a fuckboi!” But she highlights that it’s hard to deny the deeper connections that come up in D&D scenarios. “They’ve been with each other through so much that it’s difficult to deny when those bonds start to happen.” She texted Liam in a panic before the game. “What do I wear? And he said, ‘In the game or in real life?’ Both!”

Marisha was expecting a Sam curveball at some point. “My/Beau’s reaction of ‘I love you!’ was pretty accurate. She does care! She’s not just  a troll trying to ruin our shit.”

Marisha on Yasha liking dogs: “I clocked that shit when you bought a dog figurine.” She keeps notes about all the members of the party when they reveal things like that.

Ashley has started taking more detailed notes, partly to play catch-up for events she may have missed earlier. “Turns out, notes are very helpful and can help you in your RPing!”

Favorite parts? Marisha: “The fade-to-black moment at the very end, and I think it’s because Ashley’s eyes--maybe this is going to get weird--we had this moment where we were in the hot tub at the end, and I looked over and was like, ‘hey’, and you looked over and were like, ‘hey’, and I was just dead. I will never forget the look on Ashley’s face. There was just a pure moment.” Ashley: “That’s so funny, because I was going to talk about this one moment with Marisha. It’s just clicking into the scene and clicking into the moment.” Marisha talks about how the moments associated with the game have real, tangible emotional connections. Brian highlights that the emotional side of things is what you remember the most after the campaign is done.

Character thoughts on Kima? Marisha: “I was like, step on me! Please! Both of you! We’d be friends.” Ashley: “It’s also that nostalgia that feels so good at the table. These characters we know and love are still living and breathing and happy together and just kicking ass. For Yasha it was an amazing example of a relationship that works in this world, and something beautiful that these people who are different but are connecting. It was a lot of-- it was cool. I think Yasha’s a very big fan of Kima and Allura. When she gave over the sword, Travis texted me and was like, it’s the Holy Avenger. Looking it up and talking about it, it was like, holy mackerel, this sword is insane. But there’s going to have to be some conversations had to attune with the sword. But I like that Matt presented that challenge, that this isn’t necessarily in your class, but let’s do some RP and see what happens.”

Where’s Yasha at with the Stormlord right now? “I’m curious to explore that more, but knowing that the Stormlord was the first person to bring her back to her own will, of pulling her out of whatever was happening with Oban and the Laughing Hand for however long. It’s also weird to see the relationship that the clerics have, and I think Yasha’s still figuring out how to be her own person, but also... not serving somebody, but still trying to figure out that relationship with her god. But again, he saved her from a very, very dark place, and I think that’s something she values and holds on to.”

Cosplay of the Week: An amazing Essek! (Blushingvioletcosplay on Instagram)

How is Beau handling the Eyes? “All the theories! It’s hard for it to not feel like a ticking time bomb. I always have to try and separate my theories from Beau’s theories. That’s acting and shit. I, Marisha, am very interested if I can somehow utilize this to our advantage. Beau, also interested but simultaneously terrified that it might be a bad idea and I might just get further initiated. When it comes to Matt, you know there’s always something more lurking underneath all of this. As players it’s kind of our job to navigate that.”

How about Yasha? “I think it’s one of the things that didn’t really come up in the date, which is funny, because it’s something I was thinking about. Me as a player, that’s something I’m extremely stressed about. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We kind of got into it, but I think the fact that Lucien was listening, and the Eyes, I think it made me as a player as Yasha very nervous about interacting with Beau, because I don’t know what they’re picking up on. There’s so much we don’t know, and Lucien is so confusing, and the Eyes, and with Matt... we don’t know! It’s a point of extreme concern for Yasha, especially someone that she has feelings for and cares about, it’s an extra level of I don’t know what this means and I can’t lose this person, but I need to protect at all costs.”

What was it like for Beau to discover that Dairon and the Soul not only listened but took action? “That moment was so deeply powerful. Honestly, I was just as taken aback as Beau was. I never in both mine or Beau’s thought process did I think Matt would take action in that way, or that would ever be handled. And I think that’s what makes it so emotional. You condition yourself to think these things just happen, so much so that they permeate your D&D game. So rarely do abusers get held accountable for their actions. What was powerful about it was that he was, and other people cared. That alone was so emotionally impactful, and I was completely thrown by it. I feel like I had to walk away from that situation kind of unpacking those things. What does that say, what does that mean? Same thing for Beau, where the cycle of abuse has happened repeatedly to her with no repercussions to anyone who’s causing it. It’s why she’s always had a weird tenuous relationship with the Soul. It throws you into these layers of reconciliation and thought. I didn’t think this was going to be addressed. What does that say about society? So many different layers to peel back. It all speaks to so many real-life experiences that happen every damn day to so many people. There’s not many examples in media of abusers getting handled, and especially not in a way that’s not some sort of device to motivate somebody.” She highlights how rare it is that the abuser was handled without pulling the victim into the mess. I’m definitely not doing what she’s saying justice with my speed-typing.

How is Yasha feeling about solidifying her identity as a protector? “Putting together this character and starting to play as her, there was a part of me that wanted-- when I work on characters, you go through the list of questions you have as an actor, what’s your motivation and all that stuff. But I very much wanted to see if I could have a character that doesn’t necessarily know what their purpose is, because I feel like a lot of people feel that way. I think when we see movies or TV shows, there’s always a character who says, I know what my purpose is. I wanted to explore what it meant to not know what that is. I left that open with Yasha, and I didn’t want to set that for her, because I thought that was an interesting thing. I still like that idea, but in the conversation with Beau and knowing the date was coming up, there were a lot of internal conversations I was having of how is Yasha feeling in this moment. At the end of the day, I feel that’s a very solid purpose for Yasha in this moment, of all I can really provide is protection - and of course she can provide more than that. But now I’m just, yeah, I think protection for her is the best way she knows how to describe her purpose.” Brian: “And once we arrive there, the goal is to find a greater purpose, to be of service.” Ashley has tied in Yasha’s protectiveness with her grappling with loss.

Fan art of the week: A second amazing Essek! (by Saturday_sky)

Thoughts on the amulets: set-up or bad luck? Ashley: “I thought they were a set-up!” Marisha: “I think [Astrid’s] an opportunist. But I think it’d be much more convenient if anyone other than her killed Trent. To what end, I don’t know.” Ashley: “Me, personally, how I interpreted her crying in that alleyway, I felt like she was crying because of a betrayal. But I don’t know! I think she definitely cares for Caleb.” Marisha: “I also got betrayal tears. That felt like guilt-crying to me.” Brian: “I don’t like any of this.”

What prompted Beau going full assassin? “If they were to get in and out and I could have jumped over that tower without killing that guy, I would have.” She didn’t have a lot of options as a monk and not a rogue assassin, but needed a quick and quiet way to get him out of the way. “I went through so many ideas in my head. I thought of an idea to dump all of the ball bearings under him, then light fireworks” to try to get him to fall off the edge.

Is Yasha’s hope for Molly still alive? “Yes. I think that because Yasha has been on the other end of doing terrible things under someone else’s influence, she has a lot of forgiveness for people. At this point, of course, it’s hope that he’ll come back or have some type of recognition of his life as Molly. There’s a lot of questions. I don’t think she’ll ever give up on him.” The only moment of hesitation was when Lucien was cool with Gelidon leaving with Beau.

How are they feeling about their odds? Ashley: “I feel really great about the ideas that the group has to get out of tricky situations. This one I’m nervous about.” Marisha: “I agree. We have our little side player thread, minus Matt, and I don’t see how we’re getting out of this without some sort of compromise that’s not necessarily in our favor. I think we’re going to get out of it, but I don’t think we’re going to get out of it completely.”

Ashley didn’t tell Brian about the date after the episode ended, but wound up blurting it out right before he was about to watch the episode for Talks.

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hellooooo,, so I’m beyond in love w your Rin/Haru rants & I just wanted to ask if there’s any RinHaru moments you love that are just incredibly underrated ?? ^~^

not sure if you talked about this already, if so plz guide me to the post, I’d love to read it ~~ ty & ly okey bye \(>_<)/

Hi!! <3 awwwww yay thank you! In the anime?? I know two that are super underrated, cause they don’t weight much if you only watched the anime and I only started appreciating them after the novelization, cause one of them was just funny to me and the other one I didn’t even notice for what it was, when I’ve watched it the first time.

the 1st one is when tiny Haru calls Rin by his name for the first time T_T I’ve made a gifset about it here a long time ago. Rin’s reaction, just tears are real. “time stopped for a moment” the hell is that, a period drama? lmao

and the 2nd one is the training camp, where Rin smelled mackerel and turned in the direction of Haru kinda angrily, not knowing that he was there and Mikoshiba said that Rin just smelled their dinner [x]. in the novel he was in internal turmoil like “I 1000% know for sure that’s my boo, why do I feel my baby here if he can’t be here, am I missing him so much I’m hallucinating now?” asdfgfdsasd

like HOLY FUCK the amount of emotions that ran through him at this moment was insane, he was thinking he was going crazy bc he felt Haru near him, then he wanted “to burn him with his flame” (thats an actual quote lmao), I was like ok, Rin, sweetie, pls calm down haha and he just... that whole internal monologue was... something lol I didn’t even know he had it that bad in that moment, just saying.

but also like everything that was happening in this scene: Haru just being hypnotized and not noticing or hearing anyone around him; and, of course, my favorite Gou who looked at Rin then looked at Haru then had the fence scene flashback and was looking at Haru like “I’ll print you out a picture of my bro shirtless, don’t worry” lmao

I also love the Yakusoku scene, when Makoto tells Rin that Rin is also the part of the “we love Haru” bunch and Rin suddenly gets agressive about it haha, but then melts like a puddle of goo. That first part was very telling lmao. The fuck he even get so worked up about it in the first place idk haha he said “we all love him”, but Rin was like “I’m not!!!! I’m not in love with him!!!” :D I was like... oh, another +1 to the rinharu being the ao3 fanfiction lol

Also 3x11 scene, where Haru gets upset, when Rin goes to watch the competition to the “Samezuka stands”, when he clearly thought they’d stay together, bc he missed him too much and he just stares at him leaving for too long T_T 

But the one I’m super obsessed about, you probably noticed already lmao is TYM scene, when Rin helps them out with driving them to the place of the filming of their promo video and Haru, of course, calls it and sits next to Rin in a car and Rin is silent and then Haru just looks at him so sweetly, then turns away, then he looks at him again and like “I’m driving better” and Rin just starts to show off lmao. I was screaming, Haru was flirting, he was flirting!! He wanted to tease him so bad, and the way he was glancing at him, I cry seriously. Notice me, senpai lol. 

I also kept thinking like it was before Rin was leaving for Australia again and I remembered the moment, when Haru asked him to go to the sakura place, before he leaves, so he could be alone with him and my heart can’t handle this. I mean, to see how open Haru is about wanting just to stay for second with him, and how he savors each moment Rin’s there is always killing me... it’s killing me. I’m so happy it’s over seriously. Bc fuck this really. xD

I think those are pretty underrated, at least I don’t see anyone talking about these a lot.

P.S. I was ready to list every tiny rinharu scene, I was like what to pick what to pick haha. ly back, sweet anon :)

[gretchensinister]

I posted 1,721 times in 2021

374 posts created (22%)

1347 posts reblogged (78%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.6 posts.

I added 733 tags in 2021

#0 - 30 posts

#rambling - 232 posts

#art - 104 posts

#you may wonder what my blog is about - 79 posts

#venom - 72 posts

#pitch black - 63 posts

#a real goo time - 47 posts

#the attic - 39 posts

#cats - 37 posts

#loki - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#an analogy: skill in rhetoric to skill in animation-you can use it for many different things...and someone make that infinite chocolate hack

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

What does "dead dove" mean?

So there’s this scene in a tv show that is frequently giffed where a guy opens a fridge and sees a paper bag labelled “Dead Dove-Do Not Eat” and he opens the bag, makes a face, and then looks away, resigned, and says “I don’t know what I expected”

Within fandom, the term “dead dove” is often used by writers as an additional tag to warn potential readers to be careful and check the other tags, and understand that this story might be kind of fucked up. And to tell readers subtly that if they don’t like what they see and keep reading, that’s their problem, because the fic was tagged. What were they expecting?

This came out of a time when the idea that tagging fics wasn’t enough to warn readers started to be spread around. It was tied into many calls for censorship and many of these calls for censorship were ridiculous. Like, “reader, you ignored at least three warnings before seeing this story. it did not come up and bite you”

Example of one of my stories that I could use this tag on: “A Perfect Man Is Hard To Find”: It’s literally about two men killing and eating another man, with heavy sexual content. I have it tagged properly, and if someone left a comment complaining about the sexy cannibalism, well??? Did you not read the tags???

Dead Dove is a shorthand for “I told you what was here, I told you it wasn’t going to be nice, I don’t know what you were expecting”

350 notes • Posted 2021-01-17 06:54:05 GMT

#4

If I wanted to go classy, I’d go with a gray sheath dress with a really long train. Yellow vertical line down the middle, front and back. And a cape that was essentially the “Do You Love The Colors Of The Sky” post

396 notes • Posted 2021-09-14 02:50:14 GMT

#3

LMAO I can’t get over Dan though. This man does not want there to be aliens in his life. He has a good job that should, logically, give him a life that involves zero aliens. But when he does need to deal with alien bullshit he rolls with it SO MUCH BETTER than other characters sort of in his role would. Eddie says Dan and Anne need to get out of town? No weird “standing my ground” bs. He tries to get himself and Anne out of town (regardless that it doesn’t work). He’s driving Anne to all her parts of the alien bullshit drama. Like, it’s uncomfortable for him at times! But I get the sense that he’s very confident in Anne so ultimately it’ll be fine. And he’s willing to get involved in the bullshit enough to wield a flamethrower against a hostile alien if it comes down to it! Also when Venom moves through him very briefly his response is “Holy mackerel!” which I think really just sums up everything. 

480 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 03:20:45 GMT

#2

So, where are you stuck?

Between a crematorium and a dildo store?

Or

Sideways in the Suez Canal?

659 notes • Posted 2021-03-25 01:30:56 GMT

#1

Come with me, friends...

To this house. Not a contemporary house, and the pentagons of those two windows on the left are a little unusual, but not particularly notable.

The sides of the steps to the front entrances are painted purple. That’s a little interesting.

See the full post

62365 notes • Posted 2021-01-30 03:16:03 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[speeding-fox]

Sorabon Flies Solo?! A Lesson in Heroing! (Part 1 of 3)

~~~~

Plot Synopsis: Sorabon gets Porukabon hurt during a battle with one of the Neo Musketeers' Biidaroids, and refuses to hold himself accountable. After getting grounded, he storms off and claims he's flying solo for now on. His strong desire to be a hero gets him corrupted. Will he snap out of it and learn his lesson, or will he join the dark side?

Author's Note: The "~~" signify a scene change, and the "--" signify another perspective of the same scene.

~~~~

It was a nice day, the birdrons are chirping, that was until an explosion from Tyrantula's evil tree Biidaroid's fruit bomb emanated through the area. The Neo Musketeers had stolen someone's precious family heirloom, believing it held some kind of power, luckily Jr. BiidaCops Sora, Tiiru, Tosukana, and Polka were there and transformed to foil their latest scheme. The team agreed that two would handle the Biidaroid while two would handle the Devilish siblings, however, Sora had other plans.

While Tiiru and Tosukana fought Lucifer, Polka and Sora battled the Biidaroid, but everytime Polka tried to land a punch, Sora swooped in with an aerial kick to it's side, knocking it down, and nearly getting hit by Polka's attack, Polka just barely stopped his punch before he hit him. "What the- Dude! Why did you do that?! I would have punched you!"

Sora pretty much ignored what Polka just said and turned to tell him. "Not to worry, Porukabon, I got this!" He then went back to fighting.

"Apparently you care more about being the hero than almost getting punched in the face." Polka grumbled sarcastically before joining back in on the fight.

As their battle with the Biidaroid went on, whenever Polka tried to land a hit, Sora kept getting in his way, and barely avoided hitting him each time, causing his frustration to grow each time. "Sorabon will you KNOCK IT OFF?!"

He wasn't sure if Sora even heard him as he was too busy battling the Biidaroid, but then he flies a little ways away, so Polka thought he did hear him, and he was letting him finish off the weakened tree robot. "Huh, I guess he did hear me. I guess I can do my signature move!"

Polka backs up a ways away himself, then covers himself in electricity. "Electric-" He then charges at it like a lightning bolt. "CHARGE!"

It seemed like he had this battle in the bag, but right as he was about to run into it, a charged shot came from the direction Sora flew off to, hit them both, and caused a big explosion. Polka screams, and the now burnt remains of the tree Biidaroid flew to Lucifer's direction, Tuscan-Dragon and Tenacious-Tealer barely notice and get out of the way in time, Tyrantula wasn't as lucky, once the remains crash into him, they explode and knock Lucifer into his siblings' aircraft and cause them to explode in turn, and sent them blasting off again. 

The item they tried to steal fell from the sky, Sora manages to catch it before it hit the ground, then holds it up while doing a fist-pump. "Another one for the hero team!"

~~~~

"Here you go, sir! Got it back safe and sound!" Sora handed the stolen item back to the owner.

"Oh thank you so much!" The owner takes his item back and shakes Sora's hand. "This is a treasured family heirloom! I don't know if I would have the heart to tell my family it was stolen!"

Sora lets go of his hand to give him a wink and a thumbs up. "All in a hero's days work! If you need help again, you know who to call!"

"Thanks again!" The item's owner leaves.

"Now to check on the others." Sora did so, and it didn't take him long to find his friends. Tosukana and Tiiru are helping an injured Polka out of the wreckage of Bolt-Striker. "Whoa, Bolt-Striker got really messed up." He commented when he saw how bad it looked.

"Yeah, because YOU messed it up!" Polka bellowed as he pointed at him.

"Me?" Sora pointed at himself. "You sure it wasn't the Biidaroid?"

"NO, YOU FREAKING SHOT AT ME!" Polka screamed as his stomped his left foot, then winced and nearly stubbled when his left leg gave out, there was a noticeable red mark on the leg.

"You should've called out to him before firing that charged shot Sorabon!" Tosukana scolded him as he helps Polka back up and wraps Polka's arm around his shoulder to provide support.

"Well, he should've known I was gonna fire a charged shot with how well I was doing. He shouldn't have gotten in the way." Sora says nonchalantly.

"You're saying it's MY fault that YOU didn't give me any WARNING?!" Polka yelled, fuming that Sora is not holding himself accountable.

"Hey, at least the bad guys were stopped and the item was returned to its owner, that should amount to something, right?" Sora received glares in response.

"Yes, but not at the expense of your friends. The fact you don't see anything wrong with what you did is concerning." Tosukana chided, then turned to Tiiru. "Tiirubon, may you help get Bolt-Striker back to Graybon Hakase's lab?"

Tiiru nodded. "On it." They transform back into Tenacious-Tealer's mecha form and lift up the wrecked Bolt-Striker.

Tosukana turns back to Sora. "We're telling your dad about this."

Sora shrugged. "Go ahead, but we know he's gonna agree with me."

~~~~

At Graybon's Lab, Shiro was walking by the base's entrance carrying some paperwork when the automatic doors slide open, and Sora ran in before they close. "Oh, hey there, champ!" He sets the paperwork down on a nearby counter and approaches his son. "Did you do some good bad guy butt-kicking?"

"Yep! Sure did!" Sora exclaimed. "And the item they tried to take was returned to its rightful owner!"

"Awesome!" He pats his son on the head. "Great job as always, kiddo!"

Sora was reveling in his dad's praisal of him. Making his father proud always brought him great joy, as he wants to follow in his footsteps. He was beaming with pride.

Shiro looks towards the door, then to Sora. "Say, Sora, where are your friends?"

As if on cue the automatic doors open once again, and Tosukana is helping Polka in. "Oh my gosh!" Seeing the state Polka is in, Shiro rushed over. "Are you alright, Porukabon?! What happened?!"

"Sora happened!" Polka shouted, giving Sora a glare.

"Huh?" Shiro glanced to Sora, who shrugged, then glanced back to the two. "What did Sora do?"

"We'll explain once we meet Tiirubon at the lab." Tosukana answered.

"The lab?" Shiro looked back at Sora, giving him a questioning look. "Sorabon, just what did you do?"

Oh no, Sora knows that when his dad speaks in that tone, he's in some kind of trouble, but he isn't too worried about it. Once Sora explains his side, surely his dad will understand, right?"

~~~~

"HOLY MACKEREL!" Shiro shouts upon seeing how badly damaged Bolt-Striker was. Tiiru, untransformed, was laying flat on the ground, panting from having to lift the mecha to get it here, even if they were in mecha form to get it here, it was still strenuous work for them, and Tosukana was patching up Polka on a nearby bench.

"With damages like these, it's going to take extensive repairing before it can be functional again, desu." Aobon clarified.

"How long will it take?" Shiro inquired.

"In scientific terms, awhile, desu." Ao answered.

Polka groaned loudly. "Are you KIDDING ME?! Grrr, godDAMMIT!" 

"Porukabon watch your language." Shiro scolded firmly.

"And take it easy." Tosukana added before going back to bandaging Polka's arm.

"Sorry." Polka grumbled, then sighed exasperatedly. "This is so stupid! My mech shouldn't have to get fixed because of freaking Sora not bothering to tell me to get out of the way!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you got caught in the shot's way!" Sora stated.

"It's not my fault you didn't bother fu- freaking tell me to, oh I don't freaking know, MOVE OUT OF THE FREAKING WAY SO I COULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN HURT!" Polka fumed. 

"Alright, enough!" Shiro shouted, stopping the two's arguing. "Obviously, I don't know the full story, so before I jump to conclusions, I need to hear both sides to piece the story together." He gestured to Sora. "Sorabon, tell me your side."

"Gladly." Sora clears his throat. [*Imagine crudely drawn imagery that depicts Sora's interpretation of what happened.*] "I was busy fighting the Neo Dorketeers to try and get back the item they stole, and one of them made a Biidaroid. I fought it hard, when I was going to finish it off, Porukabon decided to try and defeat it when he got caught in the blast of my charge shot, but in the end I defeated the Dorketeers and sent them blasting off again, and returned the stolen item to it's owner. The End." [*end of imagery*]

"You know that's not entirely what happened!" Polka yelled. "We were trying to fight them together, but you kept getting in the way, and I was trying to get the item back when you freaking blew me up along with them and the Biidaroid!" He tries to stand up to yell some more, but is pulled back down to the seat by Tosukana, which was probably for the better good anyway. "First the butting when we're trying to help, then freaking wrecking me and Bolt-Striker and almost killing me, and now you trying to claim all the credit!"

"I did most of the work for you guys, besides, it shouldn't matter anyway, the bad guys got foiled, and the fight is done. Stopping bad guys is all a part of heroing!" Sora exclaimed pridefully.

"That may be true, but that's only one part of "heroing," another part is teamwork." Tosukana stated.

"And, oh I don't know, making sure you DON'T attack your friends?!" Polka chimed in.

Sora lifts his arms to behind his head and turns away. "You getting in the way isn't my fault. Sometimes being a hero means taking risks, and besides, you guys saw how well I handled myself. I could probably do this hero thing solo, since clearly none of you are appreciative of my heroic efforts."

Tosukana and Tiiru gasped at this response, while Polka looked as if he wanted to punch him. "Well I never-!" Tiiru said a moment before Polka screamed. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Is your ego THAT far up your a- butt?! Get your head out of there too while you're at it!"

"Why you-" Sora began, but got cut off by his dad.

"Okay, I heard enough!" Shiro shouted, making the kids go silent. He gazed to the damaged mech in the vehicle bay, then to Sora, and sighed. "Sorabon..." He stepped over to him, then puts a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to do this, but..." He paused, then locked eyes with Sora, having a look of disappointment on his face. "You're grounded."

Sora was silent, staring at his dad as he processed the words he just said. "Wh... What..?" He uttered quietly.

"Sora, heroes hold themselves accountable for their mishaps, but here, you seem to be doing the opposite of that." Shiro removed his arm as Sora took a step back.

"What are you saying..?" Sora questioned.

"This is too serious of a mishap to let it slide. You apparently still have stuff to learn to be a proper hero, so until you humble up and own up to your mistake and apologize, I'm taking your privilege of using Sky-Soarer away."

"What?! No! You can't do that!" Sora felt betrayed that his own dad would do this to him. "I'm a hero! You can't take away the one thing that helps me hero!"

"Being a hero doesn't mean you're exempt from punishment, and you're not responsible enough to keep that privilege right now." He holds his hand out. "Give me your card."

"..." Sora takes out his card, stares at it for some time, then holds it away. "No!"

"Sora, give it." Shiro told him firmly.

"I said no!" Sora snapped.

"Sorabon, if you don't give it to me right now, you're going to be in more trouble." He firmly stated.

"NO! I won't let you take Sky-Soarer away from me!" Sora makes a break for his mech as hot tears rolled down his face.

"Sorabon!" Shiro chases after him. "Aobon, initiate lockdown!"

"Got it!" Aobon presses a button that activates the lockdown sequence, alarms begin to blare.

Sora hops into Sky-Soarer before Shiro catches up to him and takes off, Shiro hops onto Crys-Whiter to catch up to him before he escapes. "Sorabon, stop this this instant!"

"I'm not letting you take Sky-Soarer away! Since nobody appreciates the stuff I do, I don't need anybody, and I don't need you!" He floors it, and manages to escape right before the hatch closes.

Shiro slows down and skids Crys-Whiter to a halt so he doesn't crash into the closed hatch. "Sora, you're in so much trouble when you get home!" He muttered intensely.

The sliding doors open, and in walks Gray holding a bunch of snacks in his arms. "Hello everyone, is there anything I missed?"

Everyone stared at him in disbelief until Polka answered. "A whole lockdown alarm apparently."

~~~~

[In the sky above the wooded area]

"Dang it! How could my own dad betray me like this?! I can't believe him! Well screw him, screw everyone! I don't them! I don't need anyone! I can do everything by myself!" Sora fumed to himself.

Little did he know, he was being watched through one of Dark Desire's dark powers (the power to see the biidaman she feels rage from). "Poor little hero, betrayed by your own family and friends, how upsetting." She makes the image before her dissipate, then chuckles. "Not to worry though, young one, I can grant you what you need to be the hero you desire to be."

~~~~

[In Biida Park]

Sora takes a deep breath, then sighs as he's laying on the grass near the edge of a pond, staring up at the sky that's as blue as him. He tried searching around the city for anyone to help or bad guys to be stopped, but none of that seemed to be happening, not right now anyway, surely someone is gonna need his help soon enough, even a helping a nekoron down from a tree will suffice, anything to relieve this boredom. He almost wished the Devil siblings would start trouble again, just to have something to do. He sure wished he could go back home and get his handheld consoles, but there's no way he's risking getting Sky-Soarer getting taken away. He groaned. "Uggggh, sooooo booooored."

He sat up, and started playing with his reflection on the water, making his reflection warble and distort. "This is so lame. Nobody needs help, and no bad guys needing to get their butt-kicked, nobody needs a hero right now." He sighed once again. "Not even a nekoron needs my help. Being bored is lame."

In the shadows of the nearby trees, he was being spied on by Dark Desire, she chuckled softly as she put on a disguise. "The little one sure seems bored. He could use someone to talk to." She lifts up a picnic basket that contains a slice of seemingly ordinary chocolate cake. "And maybe a little treat." She giggled darkly, then emerged from the shadows and approached to the bored boy.

Sora kept messing around with his reflection until he saw someone else within it. "Huh?" He turned to the guest to find a pretty looking blue-violet lady with raven hair, a nice dress, and holding an average picnic basket. Something felt off about this lady, but he couldn't think of why she was giving him a weird vibe, she looked totally normal. Maybe it's the boredom getting to his head. "Oh, hey."

"Hello little one." She spoke softly. "Are you lost?"

"Nah, not really. I'm just chilling here, by myself, and bored out of my mind." He replied.

"I see. Hold on, aren't you perhaps Sorabon?" She inquired.

"Um, yeah. You know who I am?" Sora questioned as he scratched his head.

"Of course I do! I've heard so many good things about you!" She exclaimed.

Hearing that did cheer Sora up a bit. He puts his hands on his hips and speaks proudly. "Heh, I don't see how you wouldn't have heard about me. I am a great hero after all." He then frowned, folded his arms, glanced aside, and grumbles. "My dad and friends don't think so though..."

"They don't? Why not?" She asks.

Sora began ranting and gesturing wildly. "Because I "apparently" blew up Porukabon! It wasn't even my fault! He got in the way of my charged shot, now my dad wants to take my heroing privileges away by taking away my main heroing tool, Sky-Soarer even though I stopped the bad guys! It's so lame!"

"Oh my, they don't sound like they're appreciative of you efforts." She stated.

"I know!" Sora shouted before folding his arms and grumbled.

"Hmm." She pretends to be in thought. "If they don't appreciate what you do for them, maybe you should start doing hero stuff on your own."

"That's what I'm planning." He gazed back to his reflection in the water. "But there's literally no trouble going on in the city right now."

She puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure someone is going to need a hand soon enough." She spoke reassuringly.

A stomach growling can be heard, making Sora blush alittle and pat his stomach. "Ah ha, sorry, I haven't had lunch yet."

She opens her picnic basket, then takes out the slice of cake to offer it to Sora. "I have some leftover chocolate cake from earlier, do you want it?"

Sora perks upon seeing the cake. "Do I want it?! Of course I do!" He eagerly takes the cake and scarfs the whole thing down. "Mmmm!" He cleans off the frosting and crumbs stuck to his fingers. "That was really good! Thank you!"

"Glad you like it, Sorabon." She says while smiling.

It wasn't long after eating the cake that Sora began feeling strange. "Why am I feeling weird?" He held his sides as his stomach started to hurt. "I'm not feeling so good..." He groaned as his head started to hurt too, and winces as he kneels into a fetal position. "What was in that cake?! It must've been expired or something!"

Dark Desire grinned as her plan worked, and it went so smoothly. She knew Sora was too much of a goody-two-shoes to try and corrupt him on her own, but knew what to say to get him riled up, the cake slice imbued with one of her Hearts of Darkness just provided the assurance of corrupting him easily.

Sora can feel his mind getting clouded, and his anger growing, he had no idea what was happening to him, but he was powerless to stop it. Soon enough, the pain died down, and he went silent.

"My dear Sorabon, may you look at me please?" She asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Without objection, Sora removes his hands from his sides to lift himself up and meet her gaze, his eyes are a dark purple and lacked shine, and his biidama had changed to purple as well. He stared at her with an angry blank stare. "Good boy. Now, you said you desire to be a hero, yes?"

He nods. "Yes ma'am..." He answered monotonously.

"And you want to do it solo, yes?" She inquired.

Sora nods once more. "Yes ma'am..."

"I can help you achieve your desire," She rests a hand under his chin. "but you have to listen to what I say, understand?"

He nods one more time. "Yes ma'am..."

She chuckles. "Good."

~~~~

[Meanwhile...]

Tiiru, Tosukana, and Polka and their mechs (Polka in the Biida-Dolphin) had met up outside the lab. Each of them had split up in search of Sora after the base's lockdown lifted, while Shiro stayed behind to… let off steam.

"Any sign of him?" Tosukana asks the two.

"Nope, even checked the outskirts, didn't find 'im." Polka answered.

"I checked at his favorite restaurant, Factory of Cake, and I didn't even find him there." Tiiru filled in, then lifted up a plate with a green slice of cake on it. "I did find this tasty Matcha Cheesecake though!" They use a spoon to scoop some up and put it in their mouth. "Mmm! So good!"

Polka facepalms, then, in true anime fashion, he's comically leaning through the Biida-Dolphin's window practically phasing through it, flailing his arms and yelling at Tiiru. "Tiirubon, we were supposed to be looking for Sorabon, not munching on delectables!"

Tiiru shrunk in their seat as he shouted at them. "Aaah! Sorry! I got hungry!"

He stops flailing to hold a hand under his chin. "I do have a question though. Do they sell Lemon Cheesecake there?"

Tiiru blinks. "Um, yes..?"

Polka pulls out a notepad and writes something down. "Oooh, remind me to go there later." 

"Focus you two!" Tosukana shouted, his head has gotten comically large, startling the both of them.

"GAH!" They both yelp.

"We searched all around the city, and none of us found a trace of him!" Tosukana expression softens. "This is not usual of him to simply vanish."

"Ya don't think he left the city?" Polka questioned, back within the Biida-Dolphin.

"Biida City is Sorabon's home, he wouldn't just leave the city where he's comfortable." Tiiru states.

"Tiirubon's right." Tosukana confirmed. "Sorabon wouldn't leave Biida City behind without a reason, and he did say he swears he will protect the city once he became an official Jr. Cop."

"Yeah, I guess that's true, but even still," Polka raises a clenched fist. "he better not've left the city, I still have a bone to pick with him!"

The three's telecommunication devices go off. "Shirobon-san's calling us." Tosukana told aloud.

"We can read, Captain Obvious." Polka said sarcastically before Shiro showed up on the three's telecom screens.

"Have you three found him yet?" Shiro asked in a firm voice.

"Depends if you are done fuming." Polka quipped, rather annoyed.

"No sir, no luck. We checked everywhere, even at his favorite places, but didn't find him. He didn't even show up on our radars." Tosukana told him.

Shiro expression softens. "You couldn't find him..?" He gazes downward. "But how..? He never strays too far from the city..." The base's alarms start going off. "What the- the city's being attacked?! This isn't the time for this!" He groans. "Kids, one of the Neo Musketeers is attacking downtown, you need to stop them!"

Polka groans. "Again?!"

"But what about Sorabon?!" Tosukana questioned.

After a brief pause, a thought comes to Shiro. "Don't worry about him, knowing him, I strongly believe he's going to be there to try and stop them! If he does show up, try to convince him to come home once everything's taken care of!"

Tosukana nodded. "Roger that, sir!"

"Who's Roger?" Tiiru questioned.

"It means got it, understood, etc., not a person, Ti. Didn't ya hear your dad say it before?" Polka affirmed.

"Ohhhhh. Now that I think about it, yes I did." Tiiru responded.

"Guys, we need to go!" Tosukana ordered.

"Oh! Right!" Polka and Tiiru say in unison.

"Good luck you three!" Shiro then disappears from the telecom screen, and the three take off to the city. Shiro sighs. "And please bring Sora home..."

~~~~

[Downtown Biida City]

Tyrantula indiscriminately fires off shots every which way, damaging nearby buildings and watches the people running away in fear. "Hahahaaa!" Lucifer cackled. "That's right! Run! Run like the scared little bugs you are!"

"Stop right there, Loserfer!" Hearing the voice, Lucifer turned in time to see the transformed Sky-Soarer land nearby, then pointed at him. "I won't let you keep causing harm to these innocent people!"

"If it isn't the little hero." Lucifer mocked. "Where are you little comrades, hmm?"

"I'm taking you on solo! I don't need anyone's help to defeat you again!" Sora proclaimed.

"Really?" Lucifer scoffs. "Tsk, I'd like to see you try, Pipsqueak!"

Sora charges up his shot, then immediately fires it. "DOUBLE WIND SHOOT!" Two strong gusts of wind shoot from the Biida Cannons. 

Lucifer had not expected his charged shots to take so little time. He has no time to even try getting away as he is swiftly swept up by the gusts of wind and gets blown up into the sky. "NOT AGAAAAAIN!" He screamed until he disappeared.

The citizens cheered over Sora's victory. By the time Tosukana, Tiiru, and Polka arrived at the scene (Tosukana and Tiiru having transformed in advance to prepare for the battle), the threat was already dealt with.

"The problem's already taken care of?" Tiiru asked, bewildered.

"Meh, whatever, at least we found Sorabon." Polka states before calling out to him once the group was close enough. "Hey, Sorabon!"

The moment he heard his voice, Sky-Soarer turned his head, gave the three a glare, then flew off, surprising the three. "What the- Hey! Get back here!" Polka yelled as the trio took off after him.

"Sorabon, Sorabon! Please slow down, Sorabon!" Tosukana called out as the group caught up to him, surrounding him in a triangle formation.

Sora growled as he glanced at them one at a time. "Stop following me!"

"We just want to talk!" Tiiru spoke up.

"We don't need to talk, and I don't need you guys!" Sora snarled, then zoomed away very quickly, the speed of his boost caused the trio to spin out uncontrollably. They all screamed as they spun like frisbees until they crashed to the ground.

They all groan. After a bit, the driver's side door of the Biida-Dolphin opens, and Polka helps himself out with a crutch, coughing as the air bag that deployed upon crashing knocked the wind out of him. "That *cough* air bag knocked the air out of me. *cough* At least I didn't get hurt anymore than I already am." He stares up at the sky to see Sky-Soarer zooming away overhead. "Grr, that little PUNK!" He stomps his foot with his good leg. "When I get ahold of him, I'm going to give him a piece of my GODDAMN MIND!"

Tuscan-Dragon sits up and rubs head. "Polka, language please."

Polka grumbled and looked aside. "Sorry."

Tosukana sighs. "At this rate, we can't catch up to him."

"What do you suppose we do now?" Polka asked.

"I guess we just head back to base and figure out our next course of action." Tosukana suggested.

Polka shrugs. "I don't see any other option at this point." He turns to Tiiru. "What do you think, Ti-" He stops when he sees Tenacious-Tealer stuck half-way into the ground, kicking their legs around fruitlessly to free themself as Tiiru's muffled shouting is heard from underground. Sweat drops appear on the duo's heads.

Tuscan-Dragon stands up and goes to help pull them out. "I'll get them out."

~~~~

[Back at the base]

"So you found him, but he got away..." Shiro summed up after getting told what happened.

"Unfortunately. We told him we just wanted to talk, but he didn't want to listen." Tosukana said solemnly

"AND he then he made us spin out and crash after telling us he doesn't need us! The little jerk!" Polka added.

"He did that, huh..?" Shiro sighs. "I'm sorry kids, this is my fault. I shouldn't have grounded him."

"It's not your fault, Shirobon-san." Tosukana reassured.

"Yeah, Sora's just actin' like a privileged rich brat." Polka turned to Tiiru. "No offense, Tiirubon."

"None taken..." They say while giving him the side-eye.

"Anyway, you were doing the right thing as a parent, Sorabon was being full of himself, he needed to be knocked down a peg." Tosukana reassured once more. "If I acted like that, my mom would've done the same thing."

"Oh I know she would've." Shiro muttered to himself while looking aside, knowing exactly how Akabon is. He shifted his gaze back to the three. "The next time there's an attack, I'm coming along with you three. Sorabon really needs a talking to." 

"Oh man you have no idea." Polka whispered to himself.

The alarms start going off. "Well speak of the devil!" Shiro rushes to the monitor and turns it on. 

"Another attack already?!" Tiiru shouts.

"Yes! The Menacing-Moth is attacking near the coastal area of the city!" Shiro turns to the three. "Sorabon's likely going to come try and stop them! Let's go!"

"Yes sir!" The kids shout in unison.

~~~~

[Near the City's Coast]

Shiro and the others rush to the scene, all (except Polka) are transformed for battle, but like before, by the time they arrive, everything was taken care of.

"Huh?" Shiro utters as he and the rest of the group slow to a halt near a crowd.

Tiiru blinks. "Again? Already?"

"He works fast, I'll give him that," Polka admitted. "but he's still a jerk."

"Look over there." Tuscan-Dragon pointed to the middle of the crowd to a short biidaman wearing a cool looking jacket and sunglasses getting interviewed by Newsbon, and squints for a better look. "Is that..."

"Sorabon??" Shiro utters in disbelief.

"That's Sorabon?" Polka questioned.

"What is he wearing?!" Tiiru comments. "That jacket with those sunglasses? He thinks they make him look cool, but they look so tacky!"

Polka spoke in a "seriously?" tone. "Ti, commenting on what he's wearing shouldn't be your main concern right now..."

Shiro transforms back to normal and gets off his mech. "Regardless, we need to talk to him, come on." Shiro starts walking through the crowd, the remaining three land nearby, Tiiru and Tosukana transform back as well, help Polka out of the Biida-Dolphin, then follow suit.

----

"Another swift victory from our hero, Sorabon!" Newsbon announced to the camera. "He managed stop not one, but two of those Devilish troublemakers with quick ease!" 

Sora stood proudly. "Heh, it was no problem. All in a hero's days work."

He holds the mic out for Sora. "Say Sorabon, would you mind telling us your secret to a speedy victory?"

"It would be my pleasure, Newsbon." Sora takes the mic from his hand, right as Shiro and the others make it through the crowd, and now they can see him more clearly. "A hero like me normally wouldn't tell their secrets, but I will say this: I realized I was being held back, and after leaving those that were a lame burden on my shoulders, I've gotten so much stronger! It was like night and day! I should have flown solo a long time ago!"

The four got understandably upset when they heard him say that. Tiiru, Tosukana, and Polka spoke one after another, going up in volume after the other. "Did he just call us-" "-a lame burden-" "-on HIS shoulders?!" Polka clenched his fists and growled. "Why that little..."

"Alright, that is enough!" Shiro announced and approaches Sora, the rest of the group following suit.

When Sora heard his voice, he turned and gave him a glare, then turned to Newsbon. "Sorry Newsy, but I'm gonna have to cut this interview short." He then turned to the camera. "Stop rolling." He tries walking away after handing the mic back to Newsbon.

"Oh no you don't!" Shiro grabs him by the wrist. "You're not going anywhere this time!"

"Hey!" He tries to free himself from his grip. "Let go of me!"

"No, we're going home this instant!" He starts dragging Sora to the Biida-Dolphin as he resists. "Once we get back, you are in so much trouble, young man!"

"No! I'm not. Going. BACK!" He manages to yank himself free from Shiro's grip, but he did so so hard, his sunglasses flew off his face. Immediately, he went to go pick them up, and found one of the lens had cracked. Sora turned to his father, giving him the most hateful glare he could make, and spoke darkly. "Look what you've DONE!"

His son giving him that glare took Shiro aback, never has he seen Sora glare at him with such venom in his eyes, same with his voice. He couldn't think of what to say back.

"You RUINED THEM!" Sora bellowed.

"They looked tacky anyway." Chimed Tiiru.

"Ti, shut up!" Polka whispered harshly.

"Sorabon, what's gotten into you?!" Shiro finally snapped back. "I understand you're upset over getting grounded, but this behavior is not acceptable!"

"So what?! I don't need your approval!" He retorted. "And this is not just about getting grounded, this is about you threatening to take away my only tool that can allow me to be a hero and stop bad guys!"

"There's more to being a hero than just stopping bad guys, Sora! Heroes also work together with their allies and make sure they don't get hit by friendly fire, and they hold themselves accountable if they attack an ally by accident! I wasn't going to take Sky-Soarer away for no reason, I was taking it away due to you not doing what I just explained! Since you refuse to take responsibility, you're not going to get it back until you realize what you did was not acceptable!" Lectured Shiro.

The more his dad went on and on, the more and more furious Sora got. He shouldn't have to take responsibility for something Polka did! It's his own freaking fault he got in his way! When he said Sora wasn't going to be getting Sky-Soarer back until he realized he was in the wrong, he heard enough, and screamed. "SHUT. UUUUUP!!!"

Everyone is stunned into silence until Sora continued. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU TELLING ME I'M IN THE WRONG! I ALREADY TOLD YOU, I DON'T NEED YOU!" He looks Shiro right in the eyes as he said this last thing. "I HATE YOU! YOU LOT DO ME A FAVOR, AND STAY OUT OF MY WAY!" With that Sora storms off, leaving Shiro standing there, quiet.

"H-Hey! Sorabon!" Tosukana called after him.

"Get your freaking butt back here you little b-!" Polka gets stopped by Shiro.

"Let him go..." He told softly.

"What? But Shirobon-san, he's getting away!" Polka tried to argue, but Shiro didn't look at him, instead, he turned around, and started heading back to Crys-Whiter with his head lowered. "Shirobon-san..?"

He stopped to glance at the three. "We're heading back to the base. There isn't much more we can do now..." He continued on his way.

Polka, Tosukana, and Tiiru watch him sulk away, then they all look at eachother, sharing the same concerned look, and follow him after a moment of silence. The crowd of people that watched the scene unfold all dispersed, and went about their day to move on from the awkwardness.

~~~~

[thaumaturtles]

Begin ANGELQUEST

The other day, I was doing some.......

...... studying.......

When I came across an advertisement. This isn’t at all an unusual experience; I’ve been on the internet for a decade and change and I’ve come to accept that ads are a part of the experience. This was an ad I’d seen many times before, too. I’m so accustomed to seeing it that my eyes often skip right over it. However, I’ve been reading a lot of articles about Enlightenment, lately, and I’ve been trying to put that into practice in my everyday life. I’ve been attempting, to varying degrees of success, to become more aware of myself and my environment, to probe onward into my mind’s own blind spots. In short, I’m trying to blitz my chakras. (Don’t worry, am Indian, can reclaim.)

And so, for perhaps the first time, I took a moment to truly see the ad in front of me. To stop and smell the dogshit hiding behind the roses. And, goodness, was it a sight to behold. Ladies, gentlemen, and all who fall betwixt, I present to you, THIS:

Take a moment, if necessary, to take it all in.

Have you collected yourself? Good. You’re holding up the rest of the class.

I don’t know how I’ve managed to let this pass without mental comment on more than one occasion. How did I look at this image, think “angel reading? yeah, sure, that’s a thing that exists” and then shuffle along? The only explanation I can muster is Divine intervention, which would ironically lend this product some legitimacy. I need to understand. What does Angel Reading mean? How could such a process be personalized, and, furthermore, how could it take place over the Internet? Who is this “Celeste”? What is she after? Why does she look vaguely disappointed in me? Can she see my soul? What is an “Angelic Medium”?????

Clearly, if I want answers, I’m going to have to dive in. I place my Crocodile Dundee hat on my head with no small measure of trepidation, though I must confess a moiety of excitement deep within. As I hike up my Adventurin’ Shorts and stuff a few hundred metres of rope into my backpack, I consider the long road ahead. And then, with my cosplay explorer’s outfit put on to my approval, I sit down at my computer. I’m really not sure why I felt the need to do all that when I’m just gonna be here at home.

I steel my will, and I click.

This loading screen appears, and I’d like to mention that the URL for this page is perhaps longer than any URL I’ve ever seen before in my 16 years.

Okay, let’s just take a moment to get our bearings here and-

HOLY MACKEREL, THERE’S A COUNTDOWN!

And only twenty-seven minutes left! Sakes alive, I clicked this link just in time! Imagine If I’d wasted more time farting around and dressing up like Indiana Jones!

Although, weirdly enough, whenever I refresh the page, the timer restarts, and it always restarts at 27 minutes and 50ish seconds, which is a random-enough number to seem legitimate.

Hmm. Odd.

I wonder if maybe the countdown isn’t actually real and is just there to pressure you into typing your info more quickly so you don’t notice how fishy this whole opera-

OH MY GOD ONLY 26 MINUTES!!!!!!!

OK, gotta think quickly here. Gosh, they’re asking some personal questions right off the bat, but I can’t let them know it’s me; they might recognize me from tumblr. If this sting operation’s gonna go forth I gotta lie my ass off. My name? Uh, uh.. My name is Dyl-Dy- Uhhhh, shit, okay, it’s Dylan-NO, Dylllllllll...... Delilah? Delilah. Like from the Bible. Yeah, that’s fitting, especially since I’m swindling these fools. Soon, Celeste, your hair will be mine.

They’re asking for my date of birth, which I’m hesitant to put because my 16th birthday party was kind of a big deal and Celeste might’ve heard about it, in which case she’ll know it’s me AND things will be super awkward cause I didn’t invite her to the party.

I put 4/13/1969 obviously

They’re also asking for my e-mail address, which I can’t give out because it has my full name, address, and social security number in it, so let’s just pull this ripcord real quick and parachute out of this nightmare zone, and over to a quick, free, secure e-mail client. That is, protonmail.com, which is not my usual e-mail server and will thus throw Celeste’s goons even farther off my trail

Wow, that was a surprisingly quick and painless process! I might just have to use protonmail in the future

So anyway here’s my info, sent in right under the wire, with a mere 24.3 minutes left! God that was close. Picture that classic scene in Indiana Jones where he slides under the door and then reaches back in to get his hat, only it’s an out-of-shape teen and also the door hasn’t even started closing yet.

I went with my actual country because, c’mon, there’re a lot of people in Jamaica. Statistically speaking, how likely is it they’d find me through that?

You know I didn’t. You know I fucking didn’t. Why are you asking.

Also, here’s a quick rundown of what Celeste is actually offering in case anyone was curious. It does somewhat tickle me that she claims she’ll “get to work immediately” as soon as anyone clicks the link and subscribes, as though the process isn’t completely automated. It evokes a clear image of Celeste, in full angelic garb, sitting at a computer screen and answering calls while also typing into three discrete keyboards simultaneously.

The idea that she could personally take the order of every individual who clicks this ad betrays either a complete lack of confidence in the desirability of her product, or an incredible amount of confidence in her own ability to multitask.

Who is “she”? Celeste? That doesn’t make much sense in the context here. Peter’s Guardian Angel? But earlier Celeste made it sound like all angels use he/him! Also, what does “bring her back” mean if it’s the angel? Can angels leave and later be found again? I feel like if you find your guardian angel once, that should be it forever, but apparently they can leave and you have to ensnare them again?????

Hooray! A link from an unknown source to an unknown destination! I sure can’t wait to click it all day long!

The things I do in the name of science, I swear to God Celeste.

It took a minute but here it is. Sidenote: I rather enjoy the irony of an inbox which consists of three e-mails about encryption and ways to curate a safe internet experience, and one which is an automated link from a bullshit ad for a product that doesn’t exist. There’s a subtle poetry to this image. I almost want to frame it, and then sell it for an exorbitant amount of money.

Here’s the e-mail, folx. If ever you needed proof that this was a scam, look no further.

Who on this good green earth would think beginning such a missive with, “Thank you for your trust,” would be a good way to garner MORE goodwill? When I go to my local grocer and I purchase a party-sized bag of Tostitos to eat by myself over the course of a day and a half because I’m in control of my body, goddammit, the bag doesn’t say, “Thank you for believing in us! We promise we won’t give you dysentery!

Like, what the fuck? “Thank you for your trust.” Your product should be able to stand on its own two feet and proudly proclaim, “I’m gonna give you a fucking angel reading or die trying!”

That initial line has honestly made me more scared than ever for this process. I’m confident I’m going to click that link and it’s going to auto-download a terabyte of obscure Norwegian pornography to my hard drive. I did just update my computer this morning, however, and all my data are backed up, so I feel somewhat more secure than I might otherwise.

Did I really just say “data are”? I know it’s grammatically correct and all, but it’s still jarring to hear. Messes with my mental flow. And wouldn’t the proper, descriptivist thing to do be to use “data is” to avoid confusion? Using “data are” feels clunky, is more difficult to say, and makes me look a bit snobbish. I’d delete it but that would require hitting the backspace button on my computer and I’m frankly quite lazy about that sort of thing. What was I talking about again? Oh, right. I have to click the link.

 Again with the “thank you for your trust” bullshit! Whatever, I’m going to let it pass. They’re clearly going for a friendly, approachable persona here, even if they’re doing it in the most threatening, ass-backwards way possible.

This next email took a seemingly endless eight minutes to arrive, during which time I meditated, raised a bonsai tree to adulthood, watched Marley & Me, grappled with intense feelings of loneliness, and worked on some of my homework.

Or maybe I just played games on my phone. You decide!

Okay, not quite what “hereby” means, but sure. It’s a common mistake, likely exacerbated by the presence of the word “here” within “hereby.” Sort of a “wherefore does not mean where” situation I suppose.

Anyway, I’m submitting to the mortifying ordeal of clicking the link yet again.

Christ get a load of this shit. How fitting that the Angelic stone for someone born on 4/13 would be Jade. My archangel is Megatron apparently??? His info claims he’s some sort of scribe. My major planet is Neptune, and my secondary planet is.... the sun? Is anyone going to tell Celeste what stars are or do I have to do everything myself around here? I do like that ram up in the top left though. I’m naming you Ram Elliot.

Now for the pièce de résistance. Meet Mahasiah. Mahasiah is not my guardian angel; Mahasiah is the guardian angel for anyone born between April 10th-14th. My guardian angel is Yerathel, apparently. A few things I learned while researching this: both Mahasia and Yerathel have “feminine energies” (???) and both have Fire as their associated classical element. Also, Yerathel rules over Intelligence, which is one thing I actually somewhat like about myself. This is actually kind of neat to learn about!

I mean come on. That’s pretty fuckin cool. His name means “He Who Punishes Evildoers” which is beyond epic, and his associated gem is Smoky Quartz, aka the only Steven Universe character.

You know, maybe this whole Angel Reading business isn’t a scam after all. Maybe it’s a perfectly safe process and I’ll be totally fine, what am I worrying about? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to explore her site a bit more..... for research’s sake.

yeah baby tell me more

h-

certainly, miss celeste, anything for you

wait, aren’t I already in a relationshi-

JAZZERCISING JUNIPERS BATMAN THERE’S ONLY 28 MINUTES LEFT

holy shit! I want accurate readings!

Oh god oh no okay i’ll do whatever you want celeste please don’t leave me i need my tarots

THEY KNOW ABOUT ME ALREADY OMG

Well, okay, even in my currently addled state I can still see that “Duo-Telepathy” is complete bullshi-

OH WELL IF AMANDA GAVE THEM THREE WHOLE STARS I HAVE TO TRUST IT

Amazingly, my info was pre-filled in. Almost like this site is linked to Celeste’s in some way, or perhaps even run by the same group of scammeUPSTANDING CITIZENS IS WHAT I MEANT TO SAY

Ooh, another e-transmission from my good friend Celeste! Oh, how I’ve missed her! And apparently large and surprising discoveries have been made concerning me! She’s presenting me a Guide? I sure hope I’ll be able to open it, hassle-free, with no additional purchases/information required!

OHOHOHOHO

bro i’m shitting my drawers rn

I have no fucking clue what that means but you said FREE so i’m in!

oh my god there’s still so much left. just shut the fuck up and take my money you fools

AW TITS YEAH

....i think

Okay, I know the original thing said FREE and I should be “mad” or watever, but look at that bargain! that’s more than half off! It might as well be free! I’d be stupid NOT to buy it!

I’ve invented a lot of secondary information for Delilah. The phone number is merely (559) YOU-SUCK, as a subtle way of establishing the power dynamic at play here. I’m sure Celeste will appreciate it.

Hmmmmm.............. It would seem my method of “just input numbers randomly” won’t work here. Such a shame. Credit card fraud used to be so easy. I’ll have to put that on the backburner, though, because look what just appeared in my inbox!

You can see where this is going.

I’ll take my leave now, this post is getting long enough as is, but I do feel it’s important to note that doing a quick bit of research shows that Celeste & co. are famous for emotional manipulation, as well as getting people addicted to their products and forcing a sort of dependency upon them. It’s important to do your research, and remember basic internet safety tips like don’t click popups or check if a site is legit before downloading from them. It’s incredibly easy to get trapped down this sort of rabbit hole, where you wind up buying more and more of their products like you’re stockpiling for the Rapture. Not me, though, I’m obviously fine and can quit anytime I like. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go try a bunch of credit card numbers until one works.

[teruthecreator]

💘 for macknerva!!

anon, you are a genius. you’ve basically just sent the magical question that has now unlocked for the world: macknerva origin story (bc honestly i realized i just start posting abt it without rlly explaining it??? and someone people are loving it??? so thank yall for being my ultimate favs but u deserve this origin) 

also this is several days late (thank u Depression) and also super long (thank u Dumb Brain) so i hope you can forgive me for both of these things   

💘: who developed a crush on the other first? 

it’s time we take it back....Back To The Start.  

so since this is my magical world of My Own Personal Canon (since i stole griffin mcelroys rights), minerva ends up in Kepler in a completely unnamed and not talked abt manner (bc im too tired to explain my general alternate theory hgkgldlgbfhke but busically she just got on a ship to earth to avoid dying) and is staying with duck until further notice. she doesn’t mind laying low at duck’s apartment until they’re able to figure out Everything and get her set up w a place of her own (spoiler alert: that never happens, but duck won’t admit he just misses having a roommate so they let it slide). 

after about a month (which feels like eons in minerva’s mind), she starts to get antsy. she’s already been introduced to the pine guard and amnesty lodge, by this point, so she’s constantly trying to hang out with someone so she isn’t stuck in duck’s apartment all hours of the day. 

which is how minerva ends up in the cryptonomica the day kirby has to run into his job at the theatre for a good portion of the day. it’s pretty empty in the shop--i mean museum, so it’s not like ned minds (plus him and mack have already struck up an agreement, which i explained in a previous post abt ned and macks friendship) especially when minerva’s around to willingly pick up the slack. 

but this second job has minerva curious: 

minerva: I assumed your assistant, Kirby, had only the singular position at your museum?  ned, from behind the counter: Oh, for a while he did, but then the theatre opened up and his services were needed elsewhere. And who am I, Ned “Theatrical” Chicane, to deny such a marvelous establishment of the skills and technical prowess Kirby possesses?”  minerva: Oh? A theatre, you say? 

here comes some random personal hc: on her homeworld, minerva was involved in her planet’s form of theatre (which i’ve always pictured to be very greek-esque, thus explaining her naturally booming voice) and absolutely adored it as a hobby. she, obviously, understands there will be a difference between Earthen theatre and the theatre she once performed; but there is no denying that that thought barely crossed her mind as she proceeded to pester ned about the theatre until he suggested she get a part-time job there. 

(ned knows mack’s struggles with keeping hires at the theatre, which is why he is quick to suggest minerva get a job there. that, and ned knows enough abt mack at this point to pretty accurately guess her Type. so let’s just say ned was doing this for both macks gain, but also for his gain to be able to harass her abt her hot new employee that he totally inflicted on her on purpose) 

ned probably brings it up later that night, or the next day. just really casually drops that he has someone interested in a position at the theatre:

mack: Holy fuck--yes, Ned! Tell them they’re hired!!! What can they do?   ned: Hmmmmm, well she’s quite fit, and has no qualms with getting her hands dirty.  mack: Oh, perfect! I need some more set builders! Thanks a whole lot, Ned. I knew you’d always have my back.  ned, knowing full well what he’s just wrought: Oh, of course, dear Mackerel. Anything for a friend! 

cue the next day: mack is just going about the theatre, business as usual, staying sort of close to the house doors so she can be Right There when ned comes in with the new hire. she’s faced away from the doors, checking something on her phone (probably her texts with ned, to see if he’s arrived yet) when she hears the doors open and shut. mack turns around to witness the Hottest Woman She Has Ever Seen In Her Goddamn Life. 

she’s tall--holy shit is she tall--with beautiful dark skin painted with these almost glowing blue tattoos that travel all the way across powerful arms and a prominent collarbone. but the tattoos don’t stop there, of course they don’t. they go all the way up to this woman’s bald head, perfectly framing her beautiful face. high cheekbones, strong chin, a wonderful nose (mack doesn’t have much of a preference for noses but this one is perfect she just knows it), masterfully-carved eyebrows that look like they were chiseled out of stone, and those enchanting, bright, beautiful bright blue eyes.  

mack’s brain basically short-circuits once minerva smiles at her (with those pearly white teeth and a grin so inviting it feels like her whole heart is melting), so she’s barely able to process the smug ned beside minerva. 

@goforduck drew this scene for me a while back and imma show it to u all bc i love him, his art, and the hot takes he gives my special lil ship: 

needless to say, mack Is Attracted, but i wouldn’t necessarily consider it a crush. meanwhile, minerva’s pov, she’s so damn excited for this job that she’s practically vibrating on the way in. and then, like romantic poetic would have it, all of that energy halts as time stands still and minerva locks eyes with....mack.  

mack definitely looks a little disheveled, but it’s like every fly-away hair crowns her head like a halo as those gemstones-for-eyes lock w minerva. she’s never seen someone she has felt so immediately attracted to in her life. but, that being said, she still does not Have A Crush. 

so after all the awkward blustering (AKA mack tripping over every eighth word as minerva turns on the Charm to keep that blush on mack’s freckled face) mack starts to get minerva accustomed to the work environment and the tasks she’d need to do. eventually, she hands minnie off to kirby bc shes got work to do, and the rest of the day goes by uneventfully. 

now minerva works at the theatre, and she’s Delighted w it. the job is easy but entertaining, she’s making friends, her knowledge of the world is expanding, and she now has a target for some very playful flirting and obvious showing-off of her muscles. because, listen....she has Eyes. she Knows mack always blusters whenever she’s around. and she knows herself, too. mack is cute and minerva likes making her blush. but there hasn’t been that moment where things are taken seriously.  

until about a month in, when minerva walks into something she maybe shouldn’t have but also definitely should have. 

you see, mack has a very important ritual in the morning. she arrives at the theatre at the absolute ass crack of dawn so she can get her yoga/stretching/vocal warmups in (since she is still a performer at heart and this has been her routine since college) and then sit by herself on the stage just sorta soaking it all in before kirby comes in with her coffee (which she needs in order to get up from her seated position on the stage bc she is that much of a coffee addict). just about every employee on staff knows not to even bother coming in this early bc 1. this ritual is very Private and Sacred to mack and 2. ur not even gonna be able to speak to her unless ur kirby w her coffee. 

“just about” encompasses every employee except for minerva, who decides to show up before kirby to bring mack her coffee (that she memorized after cornering kirby for the specifics one day) 

so she comes in the back entrance and is sort of at a loss as to where mack may be bc she doesn’t know mack’s routine. and she’s just kinda wandering aimlessly through all the shops and little rooms until she reaches the wings, where she hears the gentle strumming of a guitar. 

she approaches, with all the caution of a woman who has spent years mastering the art of stealth along w her combat studies, and comes upon the following scene: 

mack is seated in the exact center of the stage, eyes shut peacefully as her body sways to the tempo of the song she’s strumming on the guitar she’s playing (which minerva recognizes as the guitar that some idiot pit member left here about two weeks ago). she’s singing (the song is Dream A Little Dream of Me), and her voice is so soft yet so resonate that minerva feels as if she could stand right next to her or be 1000 feet away and hear the exact same thing. and she sounds so good, so completely in the song she’s performing and in her contentedness that it eases some subconscious unease minerva was holding. in the time minerva’s known mack, it’s the most natural she’s ever heard or seen her, just playing for an invisible audience in the dim lights of a theatre not yet awakened. 

minerva doesn’t realize she’s drifting closer to mack until she steps on an uneven plank, and the noise snaps mack out of her little world as she turns to the noise. needless to say, she’s a little surprised that minerva’s here this early, but then minerva wordlessly hands her her coffee and so mack could care less. she accepts the drink w a smile and then decides to go to her office to get started on some business emails. 

it isn’t until mack has already left the stage, and minerva is still stuck in the same position she was when she handed mack her coffee--heart racing a million miles a minute, face hot, and stomach feeling as if an entire colony of butterflies suddenly took refuge there--that minerva realizes that she is Endlessly, Hopelessly Fucked In Love. 

So yeah, TLDR; Minerva was first. 

[dimples-of-discontent]

I know that this is almost definitely not the meaning of the title of 14x08, “Byzantium” but my very first association is with the W.B. Yeats poem “Sailing to Byzantium: that begins, “That is no country for old men.” It feels like there’s a lot potentially happening now with ideas of succession and generations, with Jack on the scene and with the turnover of power in Heaven and Hell, with Dean’s heartbreaking daydream of a TFW beach trip with umbrella drinks, Hawaiian shirts, and toes in the sand. It’s potentially the midseason finale too (with the shorter season). Feels like it could be thematically resonant.

I’ll put the poem below, for those who don’t know it, but Yeats wrote it about the quest of the soul for enlightenment (symbolized by Byzantium) aided by art.

I That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. II An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. III O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. IV Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

[fluffandlove]

Stupid Affection

Author’s note: THANK YOU for existing and sending me this ilu. Haven’t written MakoHaru in a while and after watching the new episodes I died aND WAS LIKE HOLY SHIT I HAVE ALL THESE FEELS and this is the result <3

Summary: Haru’s being dramatic and Makoto wants to make him feel better by using his weak spots against him. With love of course. 

Word count: 2k 

One of Haru’s typical traits was his quietness, which was one of the things Makoto was used to, but he was exceptionally quiet today. Like, they’d been hanging out for almost two hours or so and the only reason Haru had opened his mouth was to ask Makoto if he wanted a cup of tea. Usually they would be talking about their day, their classes, any news from the others, even the weather when Makoto ran out of things to say but Haru had barely responded to any of that.

Even the way they were sitting was weird. The TV was on at a low volume, playing some random thriller and, call him sentimental, but Makoto was pretty sure that Haru was sitting too far away from him. The bed wasn’t that big to begin with, but it turned out that Haru preferred the opposite side instead of his go-to, which was nestled up against Makoto.

This was weird, not to mention awkward. Makoto pressed his lips together and looked at him, not really knowing what to do. They’d only been dating for a year but had been friends for as long as he could remember, which was the very reason he knew that there was something wrong. It couldn’t be something major, otherwise Haru would’ve cancelled their meetup, so it was something small but pressing.

Maybe he had a bad day at practice? Or maybe Rin had managed to prove that he was a better driver after all. Whatever it was, it was causing them to sit in one of the most awkward silences ever, depriving them of touch and damn, Makoto was gonna burst any second.

Haru’s eyes were fixed on the corner of the TV screen, making Makoto unable to read them. He was holding his phone in an absent grip and his posture was somewhat tense; an indicator that he had to be approached carefully, otherwise they wouldn’t get very far. Apparently Makoto’s presence was not unwanted, which gave him a little boost to scoot over and place a tentative hand on Haru’s clothed leg.

“Haru.”

“Hn.” A quiet response but it was there.

“… Did something happen?”  

The scene on the TV changed and dramatic music started playing, making the atmosphere even tenser than it had to be. Makoto’s eyes landed on the remote on the floor and back to Haru’s face to silently ask for permission. The response was a small nod, so he reached for the remote and turned the TV off, using it as an excuse to nudge him with his elbow. 

Their eyes met and Makoto dared to move even closer so their noses nearly touched. Haru’s eyes were soft, mirroring a distant sadness. He wasn’t sure whether to place a small kiss on his lips, even though he really wanted to.

“We didn’t have mackerel for dinner.”

Oh.

Oh.

The answer was so obvious yet totally not at the same time. It was true that Makoto had brought some food from the convenience store because he was tired and didn’t feel like cooking, so he honestly thought he was doing both of them a favor. Apparently Haru hadn’t said anything for the sake of being polite or something, and they’d finished their dinner in silence.

“I’m sorry?” Makoto tried and pressed their foreheads together with a careful smile, grateful that Haru sort of leaned into his touch and placed his phone on the nightstand. 

“S’okay.”

Makoto let out a low chuckle and wrapped his other arm around Haru’s shoulders, his hand ending up on the back of his neck, fingers brushing against his hairline and jaw.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Makoto was often very shy when it came to touch, but now that Haru was feeling down (about something rather silly, he secretly thought), he decided to go for it.

The hand that was resting on his leg slid under his shirt and cupped his waist, the other hand joining it swiftly, lifting him up and dragging their bodies closer together so that Haru ended up in his lap.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Makoto thought Haru wasn’t sad at all, or at least, exaggerating a little, and just in some need of psychical attention, so he laid his chin on Haru’s shoulder, holding him in a somewhat loose hug. Haru’s hands slid around his shoulders, holding onto him and letting out another small sigh.

“We’ll have mackerel for breakfast tomorrow, okay?” Makoto said in an earnest voice, glad that Haru couldn’t see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He got a small hum in response, which was probably the equivalent of “Yeah, okay,” and Makoto squeezed him a little tighter.

They sat like that for a solid minute, listening to each other’s breathing and feeling each other’s heartbeat. Makoto was absently stroking his lower back with his thumbs and felt Haru’s body slowly but surely relaxing in his arms, tension leaving his shoulders and practically melting into him, which was exactly what he’d hoped for. Haru wasn’t that hard to please, especially since he was indifferent about most things, but it was still a small victory in his eyes.

Makoto turned his face so that his nose brushed against Haru’s jawline, feeling the shiver he caused by doing so. He kept nudging him gently until their eyes locked again.

He got another small nod in response and took that as the consent he needed to bring their lips together. Of course kisses couldn’t solve everything, but it was no secret that Haru really liked kissing, especially when he was feeling down. He’d accidentally let this slip that one time he couldn’t sleep and rolled over to Makoto, who was staying over for the umpteenth time, burying his face in his neck and quietly whispering he wanted to kiss.

And sometimes Haru would actually lean in to initiate one. Makoto honestly thought it was one of the most adorable things ever and never hesitated to cup his jaw and let the other’s lips move against his. Other times Makoto would daringly run his thumb over his hip, caress his lower back or squeeze his leg, and Haru would always respond with a small grunt, pulling him even closer.

Haru kept kissing him softly, holding onto his shoulders and sighing contently through his nose like always. It was more than enough encouragement for Makoto to gently move their bodies and push Haru down until he was lying on his back. Makoto never broke the kiss, too lost in the way Haru was now suckling on his lower lip, his breath and heartbeat quickened. Warm hands were holding his cheeks in a soft grip, which he found absolutely endearing and almost felt bad when he pulled back a little so he could start kissing his jaw and neck.

As expected, he got a disgruntled noise as soon as their lips separated, but Haru grew quiet and breathy once Makoto kissed right above his collarbone. The hands that were holding his face loosened their grip and slipped down, trembling lightly.

His shirt had moved up due to their movements and Makoto pushed it farther up to expose his boyfriend’s stomach even more. Haru’s breathing got a little more intense as Makoto started kissing his lower abdomen, lips lingering above the skin after every touch.

A sudden, sharp gasp broke the dreamy atmosphere and Makoto looked up, startled, to see that Haru had squeezed his eyes shut and was gripping the sheets tightly with one hand. His face was already flushed from their kissing, but Makoto was pretty sure it had gotten even redder.

His lips parted, about to ask what he could have possibly done wrong, but then it hit him. He sort of pretended it didn’t happen and continued to place feather-light kisses around Haru’s navel, feeling the skin tremble beneath his throbbing lips.

“Gpppfff.” It sounded like a failed raspberry and Makoto could hear the grunt that followed. “Makoto…”

“Hm?” was the lazy answer. His forefinger traced his hip, earning another shudder.  

“You’re tickling me, stop that.”

His own lips curled into an unusual Rin-like grin against the baby hairs. “But it’s fun.”

Haru tried to move away, but Makoto had a firm grip on his hips, not letting him go. “Ugh, you’re such an idiot.”

The pretentious insult was accusatory but affectionate at the same time, so Makoto didn’t hesitate to reach up and press their lips together while also tickling his ribs gently. A small puff of air brushed over his lips and Haru started squirming, hands half-heartedly pressing against his chest. Makoto simply let his fingers roam over his torso, adding a little squeeze or flutter every now and then, which was making the laughter that was coming out of Haru’s mouth louder and louder until they were forced to break apart.

“Mak— Gah! St—” Haru got cut off by his own laughter, curling in on himself and pressing his arms against his sides.

Both of Makoto’s hands were now under his shirt, tickling him in earnest. Melodious laughter filled up the apartment, instantly getting rid of any lingering negativity, and Makoto decided to be extra mean because he loved his boyfriend’s laugh more than anything. Haru opened his mouth to protest, or at least that was what it looked like, but yelped instead.  

“Sorry.”

Makoto had brushed over one of his hipbones and let out a quiet chuckle upon seeing the quick glare Haru had shot him. “You’re not sorry.”

“… Yeah.”

Squeeze. Haru’s torso shot up as far as it could, lips pressed together so a mere concealed laugh managed to come out, but Makoto was persistent and continued to tweak at his hips until another bark of laughter escaped. Uncoordinated blows were aimed at his arms, half-pushing at them but his body was trying so hard to get away that it just ended up doing exactly nothing to help Haru escape from those quick but effective touches.

As far as he knew, Haru didn’t exactly loathe being tickled, it was more like he had accepted that Makoto loved to make him laugh and usually ended up tickling him to the point where he was completely red in the face and breathless.

His legs were kicking the air uselessly, barely able to do anything. It did cause Makoto to lose his balance for a split second, though, but he regained it and leaned down even closer so they were panting against each other’s lips. He, too, was slightly breathless and could see Haru’s cheeks darkening because of their proximity.  

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Another kiss that was so very satisfying and distracting that Haru barely registered the hands cupping his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks tenderly until they sneaked down to his neck, fluttering playfully. The first bubble of laughter was again disrupted by the other’s lips before Makoto pulled back and blew a raspberry below his jaw.

This time Haru guffawed and threw his head back against the pillow, unintentionally giving Makoto more access to nip, kiss and blow against his neck until loud snorts and high-pitched noises joined his laughter. He tried to move his head away, but with Makoto still straddling him like that, he couldn’t get very far.

“Mako— Pff! Quit it already!”

And Makoto finally did. His hands had been under his shirt, squeezing his waist continuously but were now completely still. He pulled back and Haru watched him through his wet eyelashes, blowing his bangs out of his face with a small puff of air.

“Idiot,” he grunted again.

Makoto climbed off him and went to lay down next to him, slinging an arm over his torso. “I’m sorry, Haru-chan (another grunt). Just wanted to make you feel better,” he muttered in his neck and the soft tone seemed to have the desired effect: Haru huffed and looked away, appearing to be speechless.

“It’s fine. Just get some mackerel tomorrow morning so I don’t have to do it.”

Smiling, Makoto pulled him closer. “Got it.”

[oosteven-universe]

Little Bird Chapter One

Little Bird Chapter One Image Comics 2019 Created & Written by Darcy Van Poelgeest Created & Illustrated by Ian Bertram Coloured by Matt Hollingsworth Lettered by Aditya Bidikar     Director/screenwriter DARCY VAN POELGEEST boasts a long list of awards and accolades for his storytelling prowess and brings the same writing finesse to IAN BERTRAM's breathtakingly detailed artwork in the gorgeous, hyper-detailed miniseries LITTLE BIRD. With the same limitless scope as a new EAST OF WEST or SAGA and the drama and surrealism of Akira, LITTLE BIRD follows a young resistance fighter who battles against an oppressive American Empire and searches for her own identity in a world on fire.     Here is a perfect example of how the crossover between films and comics benefit each other in great ways. We are all familiar with how comics are taken to the entertainment arena which is how some writers gain a stronger, broader fanbase, here it's the opposite we have a writer who has chosen to work in this field after being quite successful in others. I love this aspect and honestly, I love this book. It has the elements of a coming of age story a well as historical fiction with an added thriller kind of vibe. It is as eclectic as can be and that’s like me as well. This first issue is a spectacular introduction to this world.     Her mother called her Little Bird and that’s apropos to not only what we see with the visuals but the ideas behind them. There is this whole idea swirling around here that is familiar and yet foreign and it’s this mixture of that which is enticing to the reader, It has that effect upon you where you want, nay need, to see what’s coming next. The ebb & flow of the book and how it’s structured is beautifully done as we navigate the issue, are introduced to the characters and establish this kind of understanding of how things in this world work. It isn’t a full or complete understanding by any stretch of the imagination and that’s great because it engages the readers' mind as it tries to fill in the gaps. This means we become incredibly invested in the book very quickly which also ensures that the reader will be back to not follow along but to see if their own suppositions are accurate.      Good golly miss Molly the work on the interiors here are beyond reproach. The intricacy of the linework is gorgeous as it brings out the attention to detail for us. Then there is this crazy good expression of creativity and imagination that we get to see. That scene in the New Vatican where he’s taking that bath is something that will stay with me for some time to come. Still, it’s a nice homage to Elizabeth Bathory. The utilisation of page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show us this amazing eye for storytelling. The way the backgrounds we see utilised here really brings forth the size and scope of the book and enhances the moments that we see. The colour work here too is marvellous to see. The pops of colour that deviate from the muted tones the feeling of oppression as well as that of hope and determination it brings are invaluable to the story. ​     I didn’t know what to expect from this story and what I found was extraordinary. There twists and turns and horrors that should be beyond expectation and I have to say that while I find incredibly disturbing I am also infinitely fascinated at the same time. For someone who will watch horror films from A’s to Z’s in quality this, this ranks up there with the best when it comes to shock and awe value. The writing here is strong, the story & plot development, pacing and characterisation are sensationally well done. Add in this level and quality of interior artwork and holy mackerel I am shivering in my boots!

[blackjackkent]

All right, time to find out what Voss has in mind for us if Lae'zel is ready to throw her lot in with him.

"You must hear me, devil. I will do whatever it takes, give you anything you ask!"

"There is only one thing in this world that I desire. You do not have it, and you never will."

...OK, I'll admit I didn't see that one coming.

Neither did Lae'zel. "The kith'rak?" she hisses. What deal would he make with this devil?

"You must help me, Raphael," Voss pleads again. He looks absolutely terrible, much worse than when Hector saw him last. There are two fresh scars across his left cheek, like the marks of a clawed beast, and a more varied mottling of bruising and scratches. And the desperation in his eyes does not match the cool confidence that marked him before. "For the sake of my people."

Raphael on the other hand looks entirely unchanged - the cool sneer and keen eyes. "Hush now, Voss," he says casually. His eyes flick to Hector and his smirk deepens. "These guests may not know it yet, but they want the same thing that you do. And unlike you, they have something of value to offer in return."

Voss seems not to have noticed their arrival, but now spins and fixes his eyes on Lae'zel.

"Lae'zel," he says, eager, almost ingratiating, and certainly agitated. "T'lak'ma Ghir - the devil holds the key to freeing the gith people. Right here, right now, you could seal our fate. Whatever you discuss with the devil, I must hear of it. Find me below in the taproom once you're loosed from his claws."

Lae'zel says nothing. Her expression is unreadable, but Hector can see the wheels turning in her head, the battle between doubt and certainty.

Voss waits a moment. Then, receiving no response, he turns and stalks out.

Raphael smiles jovially, turning fully to face them. "I'm glad you came," he says with a smooth grin, spreading his arms. "Not to my door, not yet, but to the final reckoning." He pauses, looks them up and down thoughtfully for a moment.

"One more thing, before we begin, though."

He raises his hand, snaps his fingers once sharply.

And then... silence.

True silence, for the first time in months. The neverending overwhelming tapestry of voices from the city outside fades... and with it, the more subtle but equally omnipresent battle constantly at work within Hector's own mind.

Narrator: For the first time since the nautiloid, your mind is clear. It's... unsettling.

Hector draws an unsteady breath in and closes his eyes, focusing inward on that silence for a moment, relishing the ease with which he can center himself. It has been a long, long time since he has felt such peace.

Part of him wants to bask in it. It feels sent by the goddess herself, a net of Selune's warmth and safety protecting him from the assault of the world. But he has to remind himself that it is not Selune's doing, but Raphael's, and that makes it inherently suspect.

He opens his eyes and stares at the devil guardedly. "I feel... empty. What did you do?"

Raphael smiles icily. "I gave you back your privacy by shutting that illithid in your pocket out of your mind. It can't hear us."

Hector goes very still.

Those two sentence from Raphael carry a lot of meaning under them. Raphael knows the guardian is the Emperor. Raphael has the same power that Orpheus has. That everpresent drone of noise in Hector's mind is not from the tadpole alone but from the Emperor's influence as well. Raphael stands against the Emperor's agenda and speaks of it with disdain - but Raphael's own agenda is still no clearer.

"Huh," Karlach mutters. "What's the catch."

Had Raphael tried to pull this trick several months ago - before the guardian's disguise had slipped - then Hector might very well have told him to take a walk; he trusted the guardian more than he trusts Raphael. But he trusts the Emperor considerably less, and if Raphael stands against him, then perhaps he merits at least listening to.

"Then speak freely," he says warily. "Tell me why you brought me here."

Raphael seems to relax almost imperceptibly. "I brought you here because I'm true to my word," he says. "And I can make all of this tadpole business go away, which means you and your lovely friends can remain blessedly free of tentacles."

He takes a step towards Hector, who holds his ground in spite of the uncomfortable invasion of his personal space. "Let us speak plain," the devil says smoothly. "I'll admit - you've impressed me. I wasn't sure you'd make it this far. But no matter how far you come, you're still on the road to ruin - a road that leads directly to a confrontation with the elder brain. At best, it will kill you and everyone else in this city. At worst, it will assimilate you, and you won't have enough free will left to even *wish* you were dead."

Hector feels a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach as this implacable description proceeds. It's not new information, but on Raphael's lips it takes on a new sense of reality and life that chills him to the bone. He swallows, willing his face not to show the fear in his gut, though it almost certainly doesn't matter. Raphael, he's sure, can sense weakness and vulnerability like a hunting dog going for the throat.

Raphael tilts his head to one side and folds his arms. "You have the key to destroying it in the palm of your hand, though," he finishes, his eyes flicking to the pack on Hector's hip.

"The Astral Prism?" Hector says slowly.

"In a manner of speaking," Raphael answers with a casual shrug. "But it's the one inside the Prism that you need. Not the illithid - the gith. I can give you the means to break him free."

"Speak, devil," Lae'zel cuts in sharply. "We're listening."

Hector looks sideways at her. The young gith soldier is looking at Raphael with unusual keenness, even for her. Her fists are clenching and unclenching repeatedly at her sides, betraying hidden agitation.

"Go on," Hector agrees.

"The Orphic Hammer," Raphael says. "An artifact capable of shattering the chains that hold Prince Orpheus is held securely in my House of Hope even now."

Hector's jaw works thoughtfully. That very much is something that he is interested in, for Lae'zel's sake and his own - although he still isn't clear on what will protect them from the Absolute if the Emperor isn't doing it. But... this is Raphael, a devil who is absolutely offering this for his own reasons, not out of charity. "It's very convenient that you have exactly what I need," he says carefully.

"Isn't it just?" Raphael says brightly, his eyes hard. "And it's even more convenient that you can give me exactly what I want in return."

"There it is," Karlach mutters darkly. "Of course."

Hector draws a slow breath, lets it out, tries to remember everything he's read, everything he's learned from interactions with Mizora and the orthon, about dealing with devils. "I suppose you want my soul in exchange for the Hammer?" he says, tone scrupulously even.

Raphael laughs sharply. "You really do think highly of yourself. My sights are set on something much more valuable than your soul - succulent though it would be." He meets Hector's eyes squarely. "I want the Crown that dominates the elder brain."

Ahhh... Of course. Perhaps he should have seen it coming. The Crown of Karsus, the artifact with which Gortash and the others harnessed the brain into their false god... it is one of the great mysteries of this whole business, and without question powerful beyond belief. Hector certainly doesn't want it for himself - but he can't imagine Raphael's plans involve using it for anything good.

Raphael can clearly see Hector's hesitation, because he immediately pivots, talking past him towards Lae'zel, who is almost vibrating with the intensity with which she is listening. "And you, Lae'zel of K'liir, want to free the forgotten prince, do you not?"

"I want nothing more," Lae'zel hisses.

Raphael smiles. "Then it is settled, is it not? A Crown for a Hammer. A bargain of a lifetime, Lae'zel of K'liir."

Hector puts out a hand before Lae'zel can answer and agree to something binding. "I'm tempted," he says slowly, "but tell me why you're so eager to get hold of the crown."

Raphael smiles broadly. "I have craved it ever since the archwizard Karsus created it, long centuries ago, and brought doom to the empire of Netheril. That was the great age of humanity, and Netheril's flying sky-cities were the apex of civilization." He tilts his head nostalgically. "I was there the day it all fell apart. Entire cities plummeted from the sky, like angels with broken wings. The screams... oh, the screams - hundreds of thousands of people watching in horror as the ground came up to meet them." He laughs with cold pleasure. "It was not a happy meeting."

Hector swallows. Gale has told him of some of this, of course, but Raphael once again is giving it a far more visceral touch, an image he can almost picture despite it being centuries before he was born. An image of pure terror and destruction.

"And Karsus was responsible," Raphael goes on thoughtfully. "Not driven by malice, but by ambition. He forged a Crown imued with all the powers of magic, a Crown that would make any who wore it a god. Men cannot contain so much power. The crown destroyed its creator, and his empire fell with him."

He spreads his arms in a dramatic, all-encompassing gesture. "Karsus's Folly, the bards and scholars call it. I call it hope. The hope of creating a better world, and the perils of unchecked hubris. I knew then that the folly of mortals could be the triumph of devils, and that I could use that crown to unite the Nine under one Archdevil Supreme. Me."

The silence that follows this dramatic pronouncement is broken by Karlach laughing - softly, bleakly, without humor.

"Zariel wouldn't like that much. But even I'm not so desperate to spite her I'd put the Hells in this bastard's hands."

Hector is inclined to agree with her.

"The idea of you ruling all Nine Hells doesn't fill me with joy," he says slowly.

Raphael's smile fades. He answers soberly, "The Hells require order to function. It is what separates us from mortals and demons. With the Crown, I would impose perfect order. Unity, efficiency, control. My kingdom would control its borders and stay within them."

Hector isn't sure that sounds very good to him - although if it kept Raphael to himself and out of the material plane, there is perhaps something to be said for that. But more to the point - Raphael is absolutely capable of lying with a straight face. Everything he is saying is automatically suspect.

...But they do need that hammer...

"Where has the crown been?" he asks, stalling for time while trying to get more information.

"Hidden," Raphael says. "The archdevil Mephistopheles snatched up the Crown and squirreled it away in one of his vaults. He's naught more than a frigid archivist. So much power and potential kept inert. He made a miracle into a museum piece." His voice resonates with uncharacteristic icy fury-- then calms again. "I raged, but only for a decade or so. Then I waited, ever-watching, for more than a thousand years, for a mistake, a mishap, a misadventure. And these *Chosen* who have caused you so much trouble accidentally did me a favor. They brought the Crown back into play."

So many tangled threads. So many forces, all with their own agendas, all crashing together in this horrible mess, and Hector is caught in the middle of it, trying to sort out which threads are safe to pull. "It must really annoy you that some mortals managed to steal the Crown when you couldn't," he can't resist saying. He hears Karlach snort softly behind him.

"Yes," Raphael snaps irritably. "It does. Especially when I see what a bloody mess they've made of their whole scheme. They must have raided Mephistopheles' vault. Impressive, I must admit. But they'll be dead soon." He smirks again. "If you don't kill them, the elder brain will. It doesn't have feelings in the way you'd understand them, but it seems rather angry."

He crosses his arms again, clearly reaching the end of his patience for this conversation. "It is inevitable. When you destroy the brain - and you will, because you must - the Crown will be yours for the taking. And when that moment comes, you give the crown to me. In exchange, I give you the Hammer now."

Narrator: A simple transaction, it seems - but it's more than that. He's offering you an alternative to the mind flayer in your head. Take Raphael's deal and you could free Orpheus. With Orpheus free, you would have no need to rely on the Emperor... but there's no guarantee that Orpheus would be on your side. And if you take the deal, you'll have to fulfill it. You'll have to deliver the Crown of Karsus to the Devil himself. He claims his ambition is to unite the Hells - but can he be trusted to stop there? Do you trust him more than you trust the Emperor?

"Tsk'va," Lae'zel snaps eagerly. "We should do as the devil asks. The prince of the comet must rise again!"

But Hector can see Karlach out of the corner of his eye. He can see the troubled expression on her face, the slight, urgent shake of her head. And he knows they are thinking along the same lines. Raphael is, perhaps, less of an immediate danger to them than the Emperor - a slightly more comprehensible force than the isolated mind flayer with its own agenda. But he is not trustworthy.

Hector does not want to give him the crown. But he does still want the hammer. And one important thing has still come out of this conversation - they know where it is: at the House of Hope, in the Hells.

That means they have other options than the one Raphael is giving them. And all of them start with walking out of this room, going to find Voss, and making a new plan.

"No deal, Raphael," he says firmly. "I'm leaving."

Raphael smiles slowly, lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I won't stop you," he says mildly, but there's an undercurrent of threat in the words. "But time is running out, so don't stay away for long. If you see reason, I'll be here, waiting - right up to the moment the world ends."

[nelybooks]

Summary "How to Talk to Anyone: 92 Little Tricks for Big Success in Relationships" by Leil Lowndes

Review - "How to Talk to Anyone: 92 Little Tricks for Big Success in Relationships" by Leil Lowndes

There are two kinds of people in this life:

Those who walk into a room and say,“Well, here I am!”

And those who walk in and say,“Ahh, there you are.”

Technique #1 - The Flooding Smile.

Don’t flash an immediate smile when you greet someone, as though anyone who walked into your line of sight would be the beneficiary. Instead, look at the other person’s face for a second. Pause. Soak in their persona. Then let a big, warm, responsive smile flood over your face and overflow into your eyes. It will engulf the recipient like a warm wave. The split-second delay convinces people your flooding smile is genuine and only for them.

Technique #2 -Sticky Eyes

Pretend your eyes are glued to your conversation partner’s with sticky warm taffy. Don’t break eye contact even after he or she has finished speaking. When you must look away, do it ever so slowly, reluctantly, stretching the gooey taffy until the tiny string finally breaks.

Technique #3 - Epoxy Eyes

This brazen technique packs a powerful punch. Watch your target person even when someone else is talking. No matter who is speaking, keep looking at the man or woman you want to impact.

Technique #4 - Hang by Your Teeth

Visualize a circus iron-jaw bit hanging from the frame of every door you walk through. Take a bite and, with it firmly between your teeth, let it swoop you to the peak of the big top. When you hang by your teeth, every muscle is stretched into perfect posture position.

Technique #5 - The Big-Baby Pivot

Give everyone you meet The Big-Baby Pivot. The instant the two of you are introduced, reward your new acquaintance. Give the warm smile, the total-body turn, and the undivided attention you would give a tiny tyke who crawled up to your feet, turned a precious face up to yours, and beamed a big toothless grin. Pivoting 100 percent toward the new person shouts “I think you are very, very special.”

Technique #6 - Hello Old Friend

When meeting someone, imagine he or she is an old friend (an old customer, an old beloved, or someone else you had great affection for). How sad, the vicissitudes of life tore you two asunder. But, holy mackerel, now the party (the meeting, the convention) has reunited you with your long-lost old friend! The joyful experience starts a remarkable chain reaction in your body from the subconscious softening of your eyebrows to the positioning of your toes—and everything between.

Technique #7 - Limit the Fidget

Whenever your conversation really counts, let your nose itch, your ear tingle, or your foot prickle. Do not fidget, twitch, wiggle, squirm, or scratch. And above all, keep your paws away from your puss. Hand motions near your face and all fidgeting can give your listener the gut feeling you’re fibbing.  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Technique #8 - Hans’s Horse Sense

Make it a habit to get on a dual track while talking. Express yourself, but keep a keen eye on how your listener is reacting to what you’re saying. Then plan your moves accordingly. If a horse can do it, so can a human. People will say you pick up on everything. You never miss a trick. You’ve got horse sense.

Technique #9 - Watch the Scene Before You Make the Scene

Rehearse being the Super Somebody you want to be ahead of time. SEE yourself walking around with Hang by Your Teeth posture, shaking hands, smiling the Flooding Smile, and making Sticky Eyes. HEAR yourself chatting comfortably with everyone. FEEL the pleasure of knowing you are in peak form and everyone is gravitating toward you. VISUALIZE yourself a Super Somebody. Then it all happens automatically.

Technique #10 - Make a Mood Match

Before opening your mouth, take a “voice sample” of your listener to detect his or her state of mind. Take a “psychic photograph” of the expression to see if your listener looks buoyant, bored, or blitzed. If you ever want to bring people around to your thoughts, you must match their mood and voice tone, if only for a moment.

Technique #11 - Prosaic with Passion

Worried about your first words? Fear not, because 80 percent of your listener’s impression has nothing to do with your words anyway. Almost anything you say at first is fine. No matter how prosaic the text, an empathetic mood, a positive demeanor, and passionate delivery make you sound exciting.

Technique #12 - Always Wear a Whatzit

Whenever you go to a gathering, wear or carry something unusual to give people who find you the delightful stranger across the crowded room an excuse to approach. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your . . . what IS that?”

Technique #13 - Whoozat

Whoozat is the most effective, least used (by non-politicians) meeting-people device ever contrived. Simply ask the party giver to make the introduction, or pump for a few facts that you can immediately turn into icebreakers.

Technique #14 - Eavesdrop In

No Whatzit? No host for Whoozat? No problem! Just sidle up behind the swarm of folks you want to infiltrate and open your ears. Wait for any flimsy excuse and jump in with “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear. . . .”

Will they be taken aback? Momentarily.

Will they get over it? Momentarily.

Will you be in the conversation? Absolutely!

Technique #15 - Never the Naked City

Whenever someone asks you the inevitable, “And where are you from?” never, ever, unfairly challenge their powers of imagination with a one-word answer. Learn some engaging facts about your hometown

that conversational partners can comment on. Then, when they say something clever in response to your bait, they think you’re a great conversationalist.

Technique #16 - Never the Naked Job

When asked the inevitable “And what do you do,” you may think “I’m an economist/an educator/an engineer” is giving enough information to engender good conversation. However, to one who is not an economist, educator, or an engineer, you might as well be saying “I’m a  paleontologist/psychoanalyst/pornographer.” Flesh it out. Throw out some delicious facts about your job for new acquaintances to munch on. Otherwise, they’ll soon excuse themselves, preferring the snacks back at the cheese tray.

Technique #17 - Never the Naked Introduction

When introducing people, don’t throw out an unbaited hook and stand there grinning like a big clam, leaving the newlyweds to flutter their fins and fish for a topic. Bait the conversational hook to get them in the swim of things. Then you’re free to stay or float on to the next networking opportunity.

Technique #18 - Be a Word Detective

Like a good gumshoe, listen to your conversation partner’s every word for clues to his or her preferred

topic. The evidence is bound to slip out. Then spring on that subject like a sleuth on to a slip of the tongue. Like Sherlock Holmes, you have the clue to the subject that’s hot for the other person.

Technique #19 - The Swiveling Spotlight

When you meet someone, imagine a giant revolving spotlight between you. When you’re talking, the

spotlight is on you. When the new person is speaking, it’s shining on him or her. If you shine it brightly

enough, the stranger will be blinded to the fact that you have hardly said a word about yourself. The  longer you keep it shining away from you, the more interesting he or she finds you.

Technique #20 – Parroting

Never be left speechless again. Like a parrot, simply repeat the last few words your conversation partner

says. That puts the ball right back in his or her court, and then all you need to do is listen.

Technique #21 - Encore!

The sweetest sound a performer can hear welling up out of the applause is “Encore! Encore! Let’s hear it

again!” The sweetest sound your conversation partner can hear from your lips when you’re talking with a group of people is “Tell them about the time you . . .”  Whenever you’re at a meeting or party with

someone important to you, think of some stories he or she told you. Choose an appropriate one from their repertoire that the crowd will enjoy. Then shine the spotlight by requesting a repeat performance.

Technique #22 - Ac-cen-tu-ate the Pos-i-tive

When first meeting someone, lock your closet door and save your skeletons for later. You and your new good friend can invite the skeletons out, have a good laugh, and dance over their bones later in the relationship. But now’s the time, as the old song says, to “ac-cen-tu-ate the pos-i-tive and elim-i-nate the neg-a-tive.”

Technique #23 - The Latest News . . . Don’t Leave Home Without It

The last move to make before leaving for the party— even after you’ve given yourself final approval in the mirror—is to turn on the radio news or scan your newspaper. Anything that happened today is good

material. Knowing the big-deal news of the moment is also a defensive move that rescues you from putting your foot in your mouth by asking what everybody’s talking about. Foot-in-mouth is not very tasty in public, especially when it’s surrounded by egg-on-face.

Technique #24 -  What Do You Do—NOT!

A sure sign you’re a Somebody is the conspicuous absence of the question, “What do you do?” (You determine this, of course, but not with those four dirty words that label you as either a ruthless networker, a social climber, a gold-digging husband or wife hunter, or someone who’s never strolled along Easy Street.)

So how do you find out what someone does for a living? (I thought you’d never ask.) You simply practice the following eight words. All together now: “How . . . do . . . you . . . spend . . . most . . .of . . . your . . . time?”

Technique #25 - The Nutshell Résumé

Just as job-seeking top managers roll a different written résumé off their printers for each position they’re applying for, let a different true story about your professional life roll off your tongue for each listener. Before responding to “What do you do?” ask yourself, “What possible interest could this person have in my answer? Could he refer business to me? Buy from me? Hire me? Marry my sister? Become my buddy?” Wherever you go, pack a nutshell about your own life to work into your communications bag of tricks.

Technique #26 - Your Personal Thesaurus

Look up some common words you use every day in the thesaurus. Then, like slipping your feet into a new pair of shoes, slip your tongue into a few new words to see how they fit. If you like them, start making permanent replacements. Remember, only fifty words makes the difference between a rich, creative vocabulary and an average,  middle-of-the-road one. Substitute a word a day for two months and you’ll be in the verbally elite.

Technique #27 -  Kill the Quick “Me, Too!”

Whenever you have something in common with someone, the longer you wait to reveal it, the more

moved (and impressed) he or she will be. You emerge as a confident big cat, not a lonely little stray, hungry for quick connection with a stranger. P.S.: Don’t wait too long to reveal your shared

interest or it will seem like you’re being tricky.

Technique #28 - Comm-YOU-nication

Start every appropriate sentence with you. It immediately grabs your listener’s attention. It gets a more

positive response because it pushes the pride button and saves them having to translate it into “me” terms. When you sprinkle you as liberally as salt and pepper throughout your conversation, your listeners find it an irresistible spice.

Big winners know there’s a three-letter word more potent then SEX to get people’s attention. That word

is YOU. Comm-YOU-nicate Your Compliments.

Technique #29 - The Exclusive Smile

If you flash everybody the same smile, like a Confederate dollar, it loses value. When meeting groups of

people, grace each with a distinct smile. Let your smiles grow out of the beauty big players find in each new face. If one person in a group is more important to you than the others, reserve an especially big, flooding smile just for him or her.

Technique #30 - Don’t Touch a Cliché with a Ten-Foot Pole

Be on guard. Don’t use any clichés when chatting with big winners. Don’t even touch one with a ten-foot pole. Never? Not even when hell freezes over? Not unless you want to sound dumb as a doorknob.

Instead of coughing up a cliché, roll your own clever phrases by using the next technique.

Mouthing a common cliché around uncommonly successful people brands you as uncommonly common.

Technique #31 - Use Jawsmith’s Jive

Whether you’re standing behind a podium facing thousands or behind the barbecue grill facing your

family, you’ll move, amuse, and motivate with the same skills. Read speakers’ books to cull quotations, pull pearls of wisdom, and get gems to tickle their funny bones. Find a few bon mots to let casually slide off your tongue on chosen occasions. If you want to be notable, dream up a crazy quotable.

Make ’em rhyme, make ’em clever, or make ’em funny. Above all, make ’em relevant.

Many speakers use author’s and speaker’s agent Lilly Walters’s face-saver lines from her book, What to Say When You’re Dying on the Platform. Chicken soup for the soul is another such book.

Professional speakers use their hands, they use their bodies and they use specific gestures with heavy impact. They think about the space they are talking in. They employ many different tones of voice , they invoke various expressions, they vary the speed with which they speak…. And they make effective use of silence (pause).

Technique #32 - Call a Spade a Spade

Don’t hide behind euphemisms. Call a spade a spade. That doesn’t mean big cats use tasteless four-letter words when perfectly decent five- and six-letter ones exist. They’ve simply learned the King’s English, and they speak it. Here’s another way to tell the big players from the little ones just by listening to a few minutes of their conversation.

Technique #33 - Trash the Teasing

A dead giveaway of a little cat is his or her proclivity to tease. An innocent joke at someone else’s expense may get you a cheap laugh. Nevertheless, the big cats will have the last one. Because you’ll bang your head against the glass ceiling they construct to keep little cats from stepping on their paws.

Never, ever, make a joke at anyone else’s expense. You’ll wind up paying for it, dearly.

Technique #34 - It’s the Receiver’s Ball

A football player wouldn’t last two beats of the time clock if he made blind passes. A pro throws the ball

with the receiver always in mind. Before throwing out any news, keep your receiver in mind. Then  deliver it with a smile, a sigh, or a sob. Not according to how you feel about the news, but how the

receiver will take it.

Technique #35 - The Broken Record

Whenever someone persists in questioning you on an unwelcome subject, simply repeat your original

response. Use precisely the same words in precisely the same tone of voice. Hearing it again usually quiets them down. If your rude interrogator hangs on like a leech, your next repetition never fails to flick them off.

Technique #36 - Big Shots Don’t Slobber

People who are VIPs in their own right don’t slobber over celebrities. When you are chatting with one, don’t compliment her work, simply say how much pleasure or insight it’s given you. If you do single out any one of the star’s accomplishments, make sure it’s a recent one, not a memory that’s getting yellow in her scrapbook. If the queen bee has a drone sitting with her, find a way to involve him in the conversation.

Technique #37 - Never the Naked Thank You

Never let the phrase “thank you” stand alone. From A to Z, always follow it with for: from “Thank you for

asking” to “Thank you for zipping me up.”

Technique #38 - Scramble Therapy

Once a month, scramble your life. Do something you’d never dream of doing. Participate in a sport, go to an exhibition, hear a lecture on something totally out of your experience. You get 80 percent of the right lingo and insider questions from just one exposure.

Technique #39 - Learn a Little Jobbledygook

Big winners speak Jobbledygook as a second language. What is Jobbledygook? It’s the language of other

professions. Why speak it? It makes you sound like an insider. How do you learn it? You’ll find no Jobbledygook cassettes in the language section of your bookstore, but the lingo is easy to pick up. Simply ask a friend who speaks the lingo of the crowd you’ll be with to teach you a few opening questions. The words are few and the rewards are manifold.

Technique #40 - Baring Their Hot Button

Before jumping blindly into a bevy of bookbinders or a drove of dentists, find out what the hot issues are in their fields. Every industry has burning concerns the outside world knows little about. Ask your informant to bare the industry buzz. Then, to heat the conversation up, push those buttons.

Technique #41 - Read Their Rags

Is your next big client a golfer, runner, swimmer, surfer, or skier? Are you attending a social function filled with accountants or Zen Buddhists—or anything in between? There are untold thousands of monthly magazines serving every imaginable interest. You can dish up more information than you’ll ever need to sound like an insider with anyone just by reading the rags that serve their racket. (Have you read your latest copy of Zoonooz yet?)

Technique #42 - Clear “Customs”

Before putting one toe on foreign soil, get a book on dos and taboos around the world. Before you shake

hands, give a gift, make gestures, or even compliment anyone’s possessions, check it out. Your gaffe could gum up your entire gig.

Technique #43 - Bluffing for Bargains

The haggling skills used in ancient Arab markets are alive and well in contemporary America for big-ticket items. Your price is much lower when you know how to deal. Before every big purchase, find several vendors—a few to learn from and one to buy from. Armed with a few words of industryese, you’re ready to head for the store where you’re going to buy.

Technique #44 - Be a Copyclass

Watch people. Look at the way they move. Small movements? Big movements? Fast? Slow? Jerky? Fluid? Old? Young? Classy? Trashy?

Pretend the person you are talking to is your dance instructor. Is he a jazzy mover? Is she a balletic mover? Watch his or her body, then imitate the style of movement. That makes your conversation partner subliminally real comfy with you.

Technique #45 – Echoing

Echoing is a simple linguistic technique that packs a powerful wallop. Listen to the speaker’s arbitrary choice of nouns, verbs, prepositions, adjectives—and echo them back. Hearing their words come out of your mouth creates subliminal rapport. It makes them feel you share their values, their attitudes, their interests, their experiences.

Technique #46 - Potent Imaging

Does your customer have a garden? Talk about “sowing the seeds for success.” Does your boss own a boat? Tell him or her about a concept that will “hold water” or “stay afloat.” Maybe he is a private pilot? Talk about a concept really “taking off.” She plays tennis? Tell her it really hits the “sweet spot.”

Evoke your listener’s interests or lifestyle and weave images around it. To give your points more power and punch, use analogies from your listener’s world, not your own. Potent Imaging also tells your listeners you think like them and hints you share their interests.

Technique #47 - Employ Empathizers

Don’t be an unconscious ummer. Vocalize complete sentences to show your understanding. Dust your

dialogue with phrases like “I see what you mean.” Sprinkle it with sentimental sparklers like “That’s a

lovely thing to say.” Your empathy impresses your listeners and encourages them to continue.

Technique #48 - Anatomically Correct Empathizers

What part of their anatomy are your associates talking through? Their eyes? Their ears? Their gut?

For visual people, use visual empathizers to make them think you see the world the way they do. For

auditory folks, use auditory empathizers to make them think you hear them loud and clear. For kinesthetic types, use kinesthetic empathizers to make them think you feel the same way they do.

Technique #49 - The Premature WE

Create the sensation of intimacy with someone even if you’ve met just moments before. Scramble the signals in their psyche by skipping conversational levels one and two and cutting right to levels three and four. Elicit intimate feelings by using the magic words we, us, and our.

Fascinating progression of conversation unfolds as people become closer. Here’s how it develops:

Level One: Clichés

Level Two: Facts

Level Three: Feelings and Personal Questions

Level Four: We Statements

Technique #50 - Instant History

When you meet a stranger you’d like to make less a stranger, search for some special moment you shared during your first encounter. Then find a few words that reprieve the laugh, the warm smile, the good feelings the two of you felt. Now, just like old friends, you have a history together, an Instant History. With anyone you’d like to make part of your personal or professional future, look for special

moments together. Then make them a refrain.

Technique #51 - Grapevine Glory

A compliment one hears is never as exciting as the one he overhears. A priceless way to praise is not by

telephone, not by telegraph, but by tell-a-friend. This way you escape possible suspicion that you are an

apple-polishing, bootlicking, egg-sucking, backscratching sycophant trying to win brownie points. You

also leave recipients with the happy fantasy that you are telling the whole world about their greatness.

Technique #52 - Carrier Pigeon Kudos

People immediately grow a beak and metamorphosize themselves into carrier pigeons when there’s bad news. (It’s called gossip.) Instead, become a carrier of good news and kudos. Whenever you hear something complimentary about someone, fly to them with the compliment. Your fans may not posthumously stuff you and put you on display in a museum like Stumpy Joe. But everyone loves the carrier pigeon of kind thoughts.

Technique #53 - Implied Magnificence

Throw a few comments into your conversation that presuppose something positive about the person you’re talking with. But be careful. Don’t blow it like the wellintentioned maintenance man. Or the southern boy who, at the prom, thought he was flattering his date when he told her, “Gosh, Mary Lou, for a fat gal you dance real good.”

Technique #54 - Accidental Adulation

Become an undercover complimenter. Stealthily sneak praise into the parenthetical part of your sentence. Just don’t try to quiz anyone later on your main point. The joyful jolt of your accidental adulation strikes them temporarily deaf to anything that follows.

Technique #55 - Killer Compliment

Whenever you are talking with a stranger you’d like to make part of your professional or personal future, search for one attractive, specific, and unique quality he or she has.

At the end of the conversation, look the individual right in the eye. Say his or her name and proceed to

curl all ten toes with the Killer Compliment.

Rule #1: Deliver your Killer Compliment to the recipient in private

Rule #2: Make your Killer Compliment credible

Rule #3: Confer only one Killer Compliment per half year on each recipient

Technique #56 - Little Strokes

Don’t make your colleagues, your friends, your loved ones look at you and silently say, “Haven’t I been pretty good today?” Let them know how much you appreciate them by caressing them with verbal Little Strokes like “Nice job!” “Well done!” “Cool!”

Technique #57 - The Knee-Jerk “Wow!”

Quick as a blink, you must praise people the moment they a finish a feat. In a wink, like a knee-jerk reaction say, “You were terrific!” Don’t worry that they won’t believe you. The euphoria of the moment has a strangely numbing effect on the achiever’s objective judgment.

Technique #58 – Boomeranging

Just as a boomerang flies right back to the thrower, let compliments boomerang right back to the giver. Like the French, quickly murmur something that expresses “That’s very kind of you.”

Technique #59 - The Tombstone Game

Ask the important people in your life what they would like engraved on their tombstone. Chisel it into your memory but don’t mention it again. Then, when the moment is right to say “I appreciate you” or “I love you,” fill the blanks with the very words they gave you weeks earlier.

You take people’s breath away when you feed their deepest self-image to them in a compliment. “At last,” they say to themselves, “someone who loves me for who I truly am.”

Technique #60 - Talking Gestures

Think of yourself as the star of a personal radio drama every time you pick up the phone. If you want to come across as engaging as you are, you must turn your smiles into sound, your nods into noise, and all your gestures into something your listener can hear. You must replace your gestures with talk. Then punch up the whole act 30 percent!

Technique #61 - Name Shower

People perk up when they hear their own name. Use it more often on the phone than you would in person to keep their attention. Your caller’s name re-creates the eye contact, the caress, you might give in person.

Saying someone’s name repeatedly when face-to-face sounds pandering. But because there is physical distance between you on the phone—sometimes you’re a continent apart—you can spray your conversation with it.

Technique #62 - “Oh Wow, It’s You!”

Don’t answer the phone with an “I’m just sooo happy all the time” attitude. Answer warmly, crisply, and

professionally. Then, after you hear who is calling, let a huge smile of happiness engulf your entire face and spill over into your voice. You make your caller feel as though your giant warm fuzzy smile is reserved for him or her.

Technique #63 - The Sneaky Screen

If you must screen your calls, instruct your staff to first say cheerfully, “Oh yes, I’ll put you right through. May I tell her who’s calling?” If the party has already identified himself, it’s “Oh of course, Mr. Whoozit. I’ll put you right through.” When the secretary comes back with the bad news that Mr. or Ms. Bigwig is unavailable, callers don’t take it personally and never feel screened. They fall for it  every time, just like I did.

Technique #64 - Salute the Spouse

Whenever you are calling someone’s home, always identify and greet the person who answers. Whenever you call someone’s office more than once or twice, make friends with the secretary. Anybody who is close enough to answer the phone is close enough to sway the VIP’s opinion of you.

Technique #65 - What Color Is Your Time?

No matter how urgent you think your call, always begin by asking the person about timing. Either use the What Color Is Your Time? device or simply ask, “Is this a convenient time for you to talk?” When you ask about timing first, you’ll never smash your footprints right in the middle of your telephone partner’s sands of time. You’ll never get a “No!” just because your timing wasn’t right.

Technique #66 - Constantly Changing Outgoing Message

If you want to be perceived as conscientious and reliable, leave a short, professional, and friendly

greeting as your outgoing message. No music. No jokes. No inspirational messages. No boasts, bells, or whistles. And here’s the secret: change it every day. Your message doesn’t have to be flawless. A little cough or stammer gives a lovely unpretentious reality to your message.

Technique #67 - Your Ten-Second Audition

While dialing, clear your throat. If an answering machine picks up, pretend the beep is a big Broadway

producer saying “Nexxxt.” Now you’re on. This is Your Ten-Second Audition to prove you are worthy of a

quick callback.

Technique #68 - The Ho-Hum Caper

Instead of using your party’s name, casually let the pronoun he or she roll off your tongue. Forget “Uh,

may I speak to Ms. Bigshot please?” Just announce “Hi, Bob Smith here, is she in?” Tossing the familiar

she off your tongue signals to the secretary that you and her boss are old buddies.

Technique #69 - “I Hear Your Other Line”

When you hear a phone in the background, stop speaking—in midsentence, if necessary—and say “I

hear your other line,” (or your dog barking, your baby crying, your spouse calling you). Ask whether she has to attend to it. Whether she does or not, she’ll know you’re a top communicator for asking.

Technique #70 - Instant Replay

Record all your business conversations and listen to them again. The second or third time, you pick up on significant subtleties you missed the first time. It’s like football fans who often don’t know if there was a fumble until they see it all over again in Instant Replay.

Technique #71 - Munching or Mingling

Politicians want to be eyeball to eyeball and belly to belly with their constituents. Like any big winner well versed in the science of proxemics and spatial relationships, they know any object except their belt

buckle has the effect of a brick wall between two people. Therefore they never hold food or drink at a

party.  Come to munch or come to mingle. But do not expect to do both. Like a good politician, chow down before you come.

Politicians always eat before they come to the party. They know they’d need a circus juggler’s talent to shake hands, exchange business cards, hold a drink, and stuff crackers and cheese into their mouths—all with just two hands.

Technique #72 - Rubberneck the Room

When you arrive at the gathering, stop dramatically in the doorway. Then s-l-o-w-l-y survey the situation. Let your eyes travel back and forth like a SWAT team ready in a heartbeat to wipe out anything that moves.

Technique #73 - Be the Chooser, Not the Choosee

The lifelong friend, the love of your life, or the business contact who will transform your future may not be at the party. However, someday, somewhere, he or she will be. Make every party a rehearsal for the big event. Do not stand around waiting for the moment when that special person approaches you. You make it happen by exploring every face in the room. No more “ships passing in the night.” Capture whatever or whomever you want in your life.

Technique #74 - Come-Hither Hands

Be a human magnet, not a human repellent. When standing at a gathering, arrange your body in an open position—especially your arms and hands. People instinctively gravitate toward open palms and wrists seductively arranged in the “come hither” position.

They shy away from knuckles in the “get lost or I’ll punch you” position. Use your wrists and palms to say

“I have nothing to hide,” “I accept you and what you’re saying,” or “I find you sexy.”

Technique #75 – Tracking

Like an air-traffic controller, track the tiniest details of your conversation partners’ lives. Refer to them in your conversation like a major news story. It creates a powerful  sense of intimacy.

When you invoke the last major or minor event in anyone’s life, it confirms the deep conviction that he or she is an old-style hero around whom the world revolves. And people love you for recognizing their

stardom.

Technique #76 - The Business Card Dossier

Right after you’ve talked to someone at a party, take out your pen. On the back of his or her business card write notes to remind you of the conversation: his favorite restaurant, sport, movie, or drink; whom she admires, where she grew up, a high school honor; or maybe a joke he told.

In your next communication, toss off a reference to the favorite restaurant, sport, movie, drink, hometown,high school honor. Or reprieve the laugh over the great joke.

Technique #77 - Eyeball Selling

The human body is a twenty-four-hour broadcasting station that transmits “You thrill me.” “You bore me.” “I love that aspect of your product.” “That one puts my feet to sleep.” Set the hidden cameras behind your eyeballs to pick up on all your customers’ and friends’ signals. Then plan your pitch and your pace accordingly.

Technique #78 - See No Bloopers, Hear No Bloopers

Cool communicators allow their friends, associates, acquaintances, and loved ones the pleasurable myth of being above commonplace bloopers and embarrassing biological functions. They simply don’t notice their comrades’ minor spills, slips, fumbles, and faux pas.

They obviously ignore raspberries and all other signs of human frailty in their fellow mortals. Big winners never gape at another’s gaffes.

Technique #79 - Lend a Helping Tongue

Whenever someone’s story is aborted, let the interruption play itself out. Give everyone time to dote on the little darling, give their dinner order, or pick up the jagged pieces of china. Then, when the group reassembles, simply say to the person who suffered story-interruptus, “Now please get back to your story.” Or better yet, remember where they were and then ask, “So what happened after the . . .”

(and fill in the last few words).

Technique #80 - Bare the Buried WIIFM (and WIIFY)

Whenever you suggest a meeting or ask a favor, divulge the respective benefits. Reveal what’s in it for you and what’s in it for the other person—even if it’s zip. If any hidden agenda comes up later, you get labeled a sly fox.

Technique #81 - Let ’Em Savor the Favor

Whenever a friend agrees to a favor, allow your generous buddy time to relish the joy of his or her

beneficence before you make them pay the piper. How long? At least twenty-four hours.

Technique #82 - Tit for (Wait . . . Wait) Tat

When you do someone a favor and it’s obvious that “he owes you one,” wait a suitable amount of time before asking him to “pay.” Let him enjoy the fact (or fiction) that you did it out of friendship. Don’t call in your tit for their tat too swiftly.

Technique #83 - Parties Are for Pratter

There are three sacred safe havens in the human jungle where even the toughest tiger knows he must not attack. The first of these is parties. Parties are for pleasantries and good fellowship, not for confrontations. Big players, even when standing next to their enemies at the buffet table, smile and nod.

They leave tough talk for tougher settings.

Technique #84 - Dinner’s for Dining

The most guarded safe haven respected by big winners is the dining table. Breaking bread together is a time when they bring up no unpleasant matters. While eating, they know it’s OK to brainstorm and discuss the positive side of the business: their dreams, their desires, their designs. They can free associate and come up with new ideas. But no tough business.

Technique #85 - Chance Encounters Are for Chitchat

If you’re selling, negotiating, or in any sensitive communication with someone, do NOT capitalize on a

chance meeting. Keep the melody of your mistaken meeting sweet and light. Otherwise, it could turn into your swan song with Big Winner.

Technique #86 - Empty Their Tanks

If you need information, let people have their entire say first. Wait patiently until their needle is on empty and the last drop drips out and splashes on the cement. It’s the only way to be sure their tank is empty enough of their own inner noise to start receiving your ideas.

Technique #87 - Echo the Emo

Facts speak. Emotions shout. Whenever you need facts from people about an emotional situation, let them emote. Hear their facts but empathize like mad with their emotions. Smearing on the emo is often the only way to calm their emotional storm.

Technique #88 My Goof, Your Gain

Whenever you make a boner, make sure your victim benefits. It’s not enough to correct your mistake. Ask yourself, “What could I do for this suffering soul so he or she will be delighted I made the flub?” Then do it, fast! In that way, your goof will become your gain.

Technique #89 - Leave an Escape Hatch

Whenever you catch someone lying, filching, exaggerating, distorting, or deceiving, don’t confront the dirty duck directly. Unless it is your responsibility to catch or correct the culprit—or unless you are saving other innocent victims by doing so—let the transgressor out of your trap with his tricky puss in one piece. Then resolve never to gaze upon it again.

Technique #90 - Buttercups for Their Boss

Do you have a store clerk, accountant, law firm junior partner, tailor, auto mechanic, maître d’, massage

therapist, kid’s teacher—or any other worker you want special attention from in the future? The surefire way to make them care enough to give you their very best is send a buttercup to their boss.

Technique #91 - Lead the Listeners

No matter how prominent the big cat behind the podium is, crouched inside is a little scaredy-cat who is

anxious about the crowd’s acceptance. Big winners recognize you’re a fellow big winner when they see you leading their listeners in a positive reaction. Be the first to applaud or publicly commend the man or woman you agree with (or want favors from).

Technique #92 - The Great Scorecard in the Sky

Any two people have an invisible scorecard hovering above their heads. The numbers continually fluctuate, but one rule remains: player with lower score pays deference to player with higher score. The penalty for not keeping your eye on The Great Scorecard in the Sky is to be thrown out of the game. Permanently.

source: http://vnthomas1.blogspot.com/2015/06/how-to-talk-to-anyone-92-little-tricks.html

[impalafortrenchcoats]

Coming Apart On Top of You: Ch. 3

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

Chapter: 3/?

Summary:

That one assassin/coffee shop AU no one asked for. (Actual summary in previous parts)

Ships: Namjin, Jikook/Kookmin, Sope/Yoonseok

Category: Hitmen + Assassins AU, Coffee Shop AU, Non-Linear Storytelling

Chapter Wordcount: 8593

Previous: Part 1 / Part 2

Ao3 Link: here

Excerpt:

Worst of all, the figurative icing on this mess of a cake, was Sweatshirt. The man jumped into action and quickly came to Namjoon’s rescue by tugging down his sweatpants and pressing his ice drink to Namjoon’s wounded lap.

Which was how he found himself, tears streaming down his face, standing in the middle of the coffee shop with his pants halfway down his legs, and the man of his dreams kneeling in front of him rubbing his drink on his privates.

Of course, Yoongi was recording the whole thing.

The first time Kim Taehyung had properly set eyes on the man’s face, he knew he would be perfect. Considering the rumors flying around the coffee shop, he had been afraid that reality would be more disappointing, but instead, it was rather the opposite. The tales paled in comparison to the living, breathing specimen. Taehyung wasn’t one to throw around the word ‘beautiful’ unnecessarily, but if ever there was a case for the application of the word, it was this man.

And there was no logical reason for it. Based off description alone, there should be nothing particularly remarkable about the man. His hair, looking at the color, could technically be described as a mousy brown, but somehow on this guy, it worked. His clothes were unremarkable as well, just a t-shirt and jeans combination with a simple gray sweater. In fact, the thing that stuck out most, and where the eyes ended up, was the garish colors of the Mario print that stuck out like a sore thumb against the white of his shirt. It would have been easy to understand how many would overlook the man’s face.

But not Taehyung. No. He was here with a purpose, and a noble purpose at that. Like the saying goes, there was no greater love than a man willing to lay down his life for a friend. This wasn't exactly that, but getting his friend laid should be way up there.

Kim Taehyung was a good friend.

+++

The whole thing started three weeks ago.

Namjoon had practically given himself an aneurysm trying to scream the delayed shipment into submission. By which Taehyung meant that everyone in the office was walking on eggshells to avoid setting off another Namjoon tirade. So, as a last resort to maintain the final shreds of his sanity, he waited for the opportune time and got out of there as fast as possible.

If he happened to be pretending that he was a secret agent on an important espionage mission, it was no one’s business but his own.

There was only one corridor left before Taehyung was out the door, so he dove to the wall and flattened himself against it. He was peeking around what he thought was an empty corner when a quiet voice behind him all but sent him up the wall in fright.

“Boss, are you humming the 007 theme song?”

Taehyung whirled around and stared at one of their new clerks, heart hammering in his chest. He breathed a long huff in relief when he computed the shocked look on the other man’s face, and whispered, “are you sneaking out, too?”

“What? No, boss, I would never -”

“Because I would totally understand, you know. Namjoon is a monster when he’s in a crappy mood. Also, we carpooled together today, so I don't have ride.”

“I'm not sneaking out, sir.”

“You should, you know. It's almost lunch. We should eat. I'll cover you, it'll be on me.”

“Uh, we just started work an hour ago.”

“Brunch, then.”

“And I don't have a car.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to sneak out, anyway?”

“I would much rather stay here, if it's alright with you, sir.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence fell over the pair. Taehyung was still pressed against the wall when he finally continued, “I'm just going to go, now.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Also, you didn't see me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh! And do you know any good places to eat around here? I guess I can't really go too far.”

“I just moved here, sir.”

Oh… Pity.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay. Bye, then, I guess.”

“Have a good…brunch?”

Taehyung gave a tiny wave and was out the door before the clerk could properly get rid of the confusion on his face. It was actually a pretty common occurrence in the office, now that Taehyung thought about it.

He made his way out to the street level rather quickly. Once outside, Taehyung indulged in a moment of relaxation. The entire morning, the whole hour of it, had been one thing after another and when Namjoon got into one of his moods, it was best to vacate the vicinity.

Although they have been in this office a good few years, Taehyung had ended up working more in the behind the scenes aspect than Namjoon, initially anyway. He hadn't been actually needed on site until the last year or so, and even then, he had usually gone straight to and from the office by car and hadn't gotten a proper look around the area. Namjoon always ate out, but was also surprisingly picky with what he was willing to eat, so they had a set list of acceptable locations for him to go when they ate lunch together, which wasn't all that often.

Namjoon was a bonafide workaholic, and it was more often the case that Taehyung would bring back something to make sure Namjoon didn't shrivel into an overstressed zombie at his desk.

He figured he'd bring him something back as a peace offering for bailing.

In any case, this was a good opportunity to scope the area for food. While there wasn't much in the immediate surroundings, he was only a short walk from the station, and he knew that a lot of the guys at the office said there was a decent area for food just one stop down the line.

So, one short train ride later, Taehyung was happily enjoying a late morning stroll. There weren't very many people out and about at this time, but it was just late enough that most of the restaurants and smaller eateries were open for business.

He still wasn't sure what he wanted, though. The clerk had been right about it being too early to be out. Taehyung wasn't anywhere near hungry enough to try to sit in.

He was leaning against a wall, contemplating the merits of heading back empty-handed and nagging Namjoon into actually leaving for lunch today, when the loud chime of bells from across the street pulled him from his thoughts.

Two things registered prominently in his mind when he finally set eyes on the source of the sound: first was that there was a quaint looking coffee shop nestled in a nook across the street that was rather easy to miss, second, and more importantly, holy mackerel, that was a lot of pink. The man who had just stepped out the shop was sporting an oversized sweater that was as insanely large as it was pink, given that Taehyung would guess the man to be approximately Namjoon’s height, maybe slightly shorter.

Despite his curiosity, he couldn't make out the man’s face since his hood was up and he was sporting some giant sunglasses as well. Strangely, as if sensing Taehyung’s stare, the man turned toward him as the door closed.

Rather than shying away from being caught staring, Taehyung smiled and waved. He tugged a bit at his own jacket then pointed at the man to signal the sweatshirt, then gave the man a huge thumbs up.

He was extra delighted when, instead of giving him a weird look or turning away like most people at work, the man crumpled slightly as he gave a full body laugh. Too bad he was too far away for Taehyung to hear what his laugh sounded like, but still, he was just happy someone got his point.

The man waved his thanks, and was about to head off when Taehyung waved frantically for his attention again. He could see the pink hood tilt in confusion, but he mimed the coffee cup and tried to convey the question of whether or not it was good to the man via pantomime.

The second surprise of the encounter was the fact the guy actually understood; not only that, he made a flourished bow to welcome Taehyung toward the coffee shop door.

Taehyung didn't need anymore encouragement and all but hopped his way over, calling out as he approached, “I love you and your sweater! You both just saved me from a coffee-less existence, and this whole morning would have been shit!”

Up close, the man’s laugh was pretty unique, oddly squeaky, but it put an even bigger smile on Taehyung’s face to hear it.

“No biggie. You looked desperate.”

“You have no idea. I'm not familiar with this area but I have needs, dude. Needs, I say,” Taehyung said in a rush, a little breathless from the jog over.

“You should probably look things up before you head out to a new place, just saying.”

“It’s called spontaneity! And I may have snuck out of my office without letting anyone know.”

“In that case, knock knock.”

“What?”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Taehyung was confused by someone else. This was a new life experience.

“Yo-yos.”

“Yo-yos who?”

“Yo-yos to call me on my cellphone,” the man shamelessly sang to the Drake tune.

He was speechless, Taehyung was speechless.

However, taking advantage of his silence, the man continued talking, “Which is something I assume you have, so you should still look up the area beforehand. Just be glad I was here to save you from a horrible mistake. There's a new coffee place down the road. Don't go there. This place is great, and you're welcome. Now in, in you go.”

He proceeded to shoo Taehyung in the door and disappeared off to who knows where before Taehyung had a chance to recover his voice.

Taehyung found himself inside the shop, wondering, ‘what the actual fuck just happened?’

It must have shown on his face because the barista behind the counter shot him a very understanding smile.

“Did you get stunned by the beauty or the lame?”

“What?” Taehyung felt as if he’d lost all control of his life.

“You got the shook-look. That guy that you were talking to, are you stunned by hotness or did he tell you a joke. For your sake, I really hope it was the hotness.”

“I actually couldn't see his face, now that I think about it.”

Taehyung was surprised when the barista put down the cup he was wiping and stepped out next to him to give him a sympathetic pat on the back.  

“It was a joke then, eh? How bad was it, on a scale from one to ten?”

He didn't know what the hell was happening, but he might as well milk the sympathy, maybe he could get a discount.

Mustering up his best puppy dog eyes, he turned to the guy and all but whimpered, “I'm going to have to carry that shit forever, now, dude. It's burned into my brain. I'm going to carry that pun to my grave and beyond. That's how bad it was.”

He knew he had the guy. Even Namjoon was susceptible to his gaze of epic pathetic-ness. He took a second to read the barista’s name tag, and then chanced a look at the guy’s face to see if this Hoseok was caving.

And yep. If he played his cards right, cheap coffee for the TaeTae win!

“I'm so sorry. Like on behalf of all of us at Bangtan, I am so sorry. It's ‘cause the boss spoils him. And everyone humors him. It wasn't always so bad, but I swear, he went and got a book of bad puns or something because we’re almost at the point of staging an intervention.”

“So, he's a regular, I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, pretty regular. You can do what most everyone else does and avoid eye contact. Although, honestly, some of that might just be because of the hotness, but the older folks love him. He's generally harmless, if you ignore the toxic levels of horrible jokes. Oh! And is there anything I can get started for you? I forgot to ask!”

“Oh, um, just an ice coffee, I guess.” Taehyung was still recovering from the encounter.

“Any specific brews? You can look at the menu over there if you’d like.”

“You can pick for me, I'm not really picky.”

“Did you want it sweet?”

“Yep.”

“Milk?”

“Sure.”

“Alrighty, then. I'll get started on that. Did you want that here or take-out?”

Taehyung almost automatically said take-out, but a sudden seed of an idea took hold.

He smiled a big boxy grin and said, “For here, please.”

While Hoseok went about making his coffee, Taehyung gleefully sidled over to the row of high stools right by the counter. The barista was kind enough to give him a freebie cookie for his troubles. Score!

“So,” he started, figuring it wouldn't be so bad to have a small chat considering he was the only customer at the moment, “I get the joke thing, but what did you mean by ‘hotness’?”

“You didn't see his face at all?”

“Well, he had sunglasses and his hoodie was up and I was kind of distracted by the pink and the coffee…”

“Oh, yeah, the pink. We’re immune to that here, now that I think about it.”

“Is he always that pink?”

Hoseok opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to freeze. He tilted his head looking confused for a moment, before continuing, “You know what? No, not really. But I think once you see him with the pink, it just kind of clings onto his image, you know. Like you see TPH, and boom you think ‘pink.’”

“TPH?”

“Tall, pink, and handsome. It's his nickname, since nobody knows what his name is. Although, if you ask me, I swear boss probably knows, but he's enjoying this drama too much.”

“So I'm going to go out on a limb and say he’s hot?”

“Yup. Honestly, I would go with pretty, even. Just, generally attractive. Like if you ask go into a visual dictionary and look up ‘universally good looking,’ there's going to be a picture of TPH.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“I sort of don't believe you.”

“Don't blame ya. It's just something that's got to be seen to be believed.”

“So, what's your rating?”

“Of TPH?” Hoseok came up to give him his coffee. “I guess I would say a solid 8.5. Although, I'm probably not the right person to ask.”

“Why’s that?”

Before Hoseok could answer, the chime of the door alerted them to a new arrival. But as Hoseok turned to greet them, Taehyung bore witness to what could only be described as the heavens opening up to the radiant glow of the sun.

Even from their short conversation, Taehyung could say that Hoseok had a warm personality and a very inviting face and smile. And while his initial greeting was the same warm one he’d given Taehyung when he first entered, he could tell the exact moment when Hoseok recognized who it was he was smiling at because the beaming level increased by 1000, and Taehyung would swear before court and jury that there were actual stars in Hoseok’s eyes.

Taehyung turned to look at the newcomer; he just had to see.

And it would not be an exaggeration to say he was a tad underwhelmed. A pale, slightly disheveled figure lumbered in, seemingly just recently woken from a deep sleep. While he wasn't unkempt, since his black parental advisory t-shirt wasn't overly wrinkled, but paired with his well-worn jeans and scruffy black hair, the man wasn't exactly the poster child for professionalism.

Taehyung sipped at his coffee and found himself looking back and forth between the new guy and Hoseok, who was still making embarrassingly blatant googly eyes at the guy. He gripped the glass tightly to physically hold back his inner meddling fiend.

“H-hi, Yoongi!” Hoseok was so obviously head over heels, it would be sad if it wasn't so cute.

The newcomer, apparently Yoongi, looked up momentarily, and seeing Hoseok’s beaming face, grunted something inaudible and made a beeline for the back kitchen.

Hoseok heaved a sigh and rubbed absently at the countertop, thus missing the last minute glance Yoongi threw his way before disappearing into the back.

However, Taehyung, who was watching the entire scene play out and barely holding back the glee, saw the entire thing. He was loving it. Ditching work had never been so rewarding.

He just had to say something, so when he turned to Hoseok as soon as the other man was gone and whispered, “So TPH is an 8.5, but I’m going to bet that guy is a full 10 out of 10, right?”

Hoseok flailed beautifully while shushing him. He also kept glancing to the back of the shop like his life depended on it.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he whispered back.

“Sure, man. But you might want to wipe the drool next time if you want to keep your blazing hard-on for the guy a secret.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“So bad, dude. So bad.”

“If I give you a knife now, could you do a guy a solid and just stab me?”

“No way. This is too good. You tried anything, yet? Besides ogling, I mean.”

“Hell, no! He barely knows I'm alive. He barely even knows my name!”

“Uh, somehow I highly doubt that.”

“What are you saying?”

Taehyung smirked, this was too perfect. Namjoon better not say he never does anything for him, because he was about to go above and beyond.

He leaned forward and said, “How about this? You help me out with something, and I help you land that ass.”

“Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you are not exactly selling me on this. I don't even know you.”

“The name’s Taehyung, Kim Taehyung. And come on, what’s the worst that can happen? You said yourself, he doesn't even know your name.”

“I said he ‘barely’ knows my name. I'm sure he has it down, now.”

“Good for you.”

Hoseok sighed, “But what do you want exactly.”

“Just try and answer a few questions for me.”

“Okay? I'm going to regret this, but fine.”

“Great! I'm telling you, you're making a good decision.”

“Whatever. You sure you can help me with Yoongi?”

“Yup! You're actually not that bad off, you know.”

“If you say so. Well, what did you want to know?”

Taehyung grinned.

“First thing’s first, is TPH single?”

+++

Journal Entry 6

May 3, 2013

I'm stupid. I'm so, so, so stupid.

I don't know what I'm doing. I knew things were going too well. Nothing goes well for me for this long without shit going down. Fuck.

I'm so stupid.

All that planning for nothing. Why am I so fucking dumb.

I turned down sex with a gorgeous man, WHO I AM DATING! Is this a growing experience or have I lost my fucking mind.

It didn't feel right, though. Maybe I'm reading this entire thing wrong. Maybe he’s just not that into me. I mean, it's not like a month and a week is that long or anything (not that I'm counting), but we still haven't gone to his place, and I mean, how much do I really know him. Right? I don't know what he's looking for with this.

If it's sex, I would understand, but the situation is subzero in the action department. There's only so much I can masturbate before I will have to look back on my life and my decisions.

It was going so well last night, too. I cooked!

Well, no. I ordered take-out, heated them in some pans, and got rid of the evidence before he arrived. It's not my fault my cooking is too risky, and I had too much riding on the success of the evening to have food poisoning throw a wrench in my shit.

Then again, I ruined it quite fine on my own, so maybe food poisoning would have been better.

Anyway, Kookie got here. He's so goddamn beautiful, have I mentioned how hot he is? Because he's so fine. So fine.

The messy apartment ruse worked. Time for some dinner and a movie, and I was so ready to eat some meat last night. We ate the shitty take-out. I didn't care. That's what I could afford, and besides, it wasn't the main dish I intended for that evening.

I forgot what we were watching, even. But here we were, cuddling on my bed, the light was dimmed for the movie. Perfect, right? I figured, now or never. So I leaned over for a kiss. Nothing new. Everything was going well. I moved down to side of his neck, by this point the movie was completely forgotten and I was basically straddling him. I reached down and untucked his shirt (can I just point out how adorable it was he's wearing a button down tucked in) and ran my hand up his chiseled stomach.

God bless heavy camera equipments. Or his gym membership. Whatever. God bless chocolate abs is all I have to say.

So far, so good.

So I figured, lucky boxers got your back, Jimin, you do your thing.

I went to unbutton his pants, not before slipping my hand in the back and grabbing a bit of that class A ass, and this is where everything goes to shit.

I don't know how, I don't know why, but everything just stopped being so nice. I don't know. Kookie didn't really stop me. He still kissed me when I returned to his lips. But I just felt something was off.

It felt like, I don't know, the magic was gone and reality sucked. Like it became really clear that we were in my shitty apartment bedroom with some shitty movie droning in the background and dirty plates on the floor.

And the shittiest thing was that he didn't tell me no.

It was weird. It was bad. It wasn't supposed to feel bad.

I didn't know what to do so I just got off and scooted away. Like this was not cool. It wasn't right.

We didn't really say anything after.

I don't know how long we sat there, but he just got up, said that he was sorry, and left.

He took the plates to the sink, though.

I didn't walk him out.

I'm so stupid

Stupid. Stupid. Stup--

--- Whoops what was I writing?

So my previous bout of self pity was interrupted by the local dictator. Seulji was apparently done with my moping.

So one bottle of wine later, I think I might be an idiot.

Seulji is a genius.

I might be the world’s biggest asshole. Shit fuck fuck shit fuck.

Only maybe, though. Because no way right?

No way a guy that fine is a virgin, right?

Holy shit.

I am such an asshole!

+++

“May I ask just what the hell you think you're doing?”

Taehyung froze in his seat when a voice boomed over his head. He debated whether or not to turn around, not sure if he should feel guilty. He was at his usual spot in the cafe where he had been camped every lunch break over the last few days, waiting for a chance to see TPH with his own eyes.

He hadn't had much luck the last few days and was seriously thinking about either giving up on the whole idea, or waiting until he had a better handle on the situation before proceeding. Of course, it was just his luck that today, of all days, TPH came strutting into the cafe, and with his first good look at the man’s face, he made his decision.

This was an opportunity too perfect to pass up.

So maybe huddling behind the menu while sneaking peeks at the guy wasn’t the best nor most inconspicuous approach, but come on, it wasn’t like he did this all the time. Maybe if he just stared really hard at the menu, the owner of the voice would just go away.

Yeah, no.

When a firm hand clapped down on his shoulder, he knew the jig was up.

“I’ve been saying this for years, and no one seems to remember, but here at Bangtan, we pride ourselves on service and experience. And young man, let me tell you, nothing brings down the ratings faster than a stalker.”

Taehyung slapped the menu down and whirled to face the judging eyes of a rather rotund gentleman. Crap. This had got to be the owner. Hoseok warned him about the guy.

“Would you believe me if I swore I'm not a creeper?”

Taehyung puppy dog eyes engaged.

“You're going to have to try a little harder than that, son.” The man’s face remained impassive.

Taehyung found himself floundering for a moment at this stranger who had withstood the full exposure to his eyes without budging. Oh, hell, whatever. He had never been the type to follow a plan. Flying by the seat of his pants was his talent, so before could second guess himself, he grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him to sit down beside him.

“Alright. Look. My best friend is on a one track road for man-spinsterdom, and I just got this tingling sense that that guy over there is the one, that one , you know. He can change it all for my buddy.”

The man eyes furrowed as he gazed at Taehyung’s very serious face. “Son, whatever you're taking, I'm sure there's help for you… out there, somewhere else, hopefully far from here.”

“No listen, okay?  That guy is single. My friend is single. It's all good. I’m just trying to scout out the situation, you know, to be sure it all gels.”

“I feel like you don't fully comprehend the word ‘stalker.’”

“It's not stalking, not really, I don't follow him home or anything like that.”

“Well, that makes it perfectly fine, then.”

“Right?”

“No! What the hell is your problem, kid?”

“True love, man, true love is my problem.”

The man’s mouth hung open as he tried and failed to respond to that statement.

Finally, he just sort of slumped forward and let his head fall to his hands, elbows resting on the table. His entire body was the the epitome of utter defeat.

Taehyung leaned forward as the man started mumbling to himself, voice muffled by his own hands. All the young man could catch was something along the lines of, “... knew he was trouble… but no, you just just had to invite in the crazy, didn’t you, Si Hyuk? Now it’s multiplying… crazy attracts crazy… we were a well respected establishment once…”

Taehyung, who had been slowly leaning closer and closer to catch more of the muffled grumbling, was practically right next to the man’s ear when he couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you think he’s crazy?”

The poor owner nearly flew out of his chair when he felt the young man’s voice rumbling so close; he practically could still feel the guy’s phantom breath still on his ear. This was too god damn much.

“You know what? I don’t care. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself. You want to be crazy together? Go right ahead. I wash my hands of this.” Si Hyuk made to leave this insanity, hopefully crazy wasn’t contagious.

Unfortunately, he found himself being held in place by a surprisingly firm grip.

“Wait, wait, wait. Okay, first I’m glad to hear you’re finally seeing things my way-”

“That’s really not what I said-”

“But you didn’t answer. Why do you think he’s crazy? Is it good crazy or bad crazy? I think Namjoon is crazy sometimes, but I still say he’s cool. You think they’re compatible crazy?”

“Kid,” Si Hyuk started slowly, like one talking down a dangerous animal, “I really think you should get some help.”

“Oh, hold on one second, are you the owner?”

“Will you leave if I answer that?”

“Yes?”

“Then, yes. I am the owner. Of this this coffee shop, of my growing regret in opening it, of my tired old soul who would really like for you to leave now.”

“Oh! So you know him don’t you?”

“What?”

“TPH over there, I heard you know him, like know him! Real name and everything.”

Si Hyuk’s eyes got a menacing gleam, “And who, may I ask, did you hear that from?”

“Your entire staff loves gossiping about you two, you know,” Taehyung said, thinking fast so as not to out his informant. Hoseok would kill him if he figured Taehyung was ratting him out, accidental or not.

“The traitors…” The man hissed to himself. For all that he complained about crazy people, Taehyung wondered if Si Hyuk was aware he wasn’t exactly the poster child for sanity.

“Anyway, forget your staff. Back to our little issue, I’m going to assume you know him pretty well, then.”

“Okay, first, there’s no ‘our’ anything. Second, I don’t like where this is going.”

“So, you can probably guess his preferences.”

“I really don’t like where this is going.”

“So, you can definitely vet his suitor for him!”

“No. Nope. What-”

“So, to show that I have the best intentions at heart, I’ll let you talk to my buddy first, and then when you okay it, we can proceed with the plan.”

“Wait, what? What plan? I’m not part of any plans!”

Taehyung clasped the Si Hyuk’s hands in his before the man could flail around too much. He held them gently but firmly in between his own, running his thumb over them, as he stared deep into the owner’s wide eyes.

“I’m just going to lay it straight for you, it’s obvious you care about the guy. Otherwise, why make such an effort to maintain his anonymity. And, really, I’ve met the guy like twice, and even I can tell he’s got baggage. And no way a guy like that would still be on the market unless it’s intentional. I mean, I’m not going to lie, he works the happy thing well, but I’m good at noticing things, and that is not a happy dude.”

“I am extremely uncomfortable with both this conversation and how intimate our positions are right now. I don’t think we’re at the hand holding point of this relationship. We really shouldn’t even be at the talking point.”

Taehyung plowed on as if Si Hyuk hadn’t said anything, “Don’t you want him to be happy? Give him a chance to meet someone to drag him out of whatever slump he’s in that he has trouble even telling his favorite coffee shop his name?”

Bang Si Hyuk had several retorts lined up to toss in this loon’s face, but something held him back. Maybe crazy really was contagious.

Taking the man’s silence as acquiescence, Taehyung took the chance to lay it on thick, “I’m not saying it’s a guarantee, but I really think my friend could be a good match. He’s smart, he’s ambitious, he’s tall, he’s good looking-”

“And a bachelor?”

“It sounds horrible, but I really mean it when I say, he just hasn’t found the right one.”

“You’re right. That does sound horrible.”

“Look, you vet, you okay, they meet. They either hit it off and everyone is happy or they split. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Huh.” Si Hyuk chose to ignore the floodgate of memories attesting to just exactly how bad things could get, but once again, against his better judgement, he didn’t disagree.

Half an hour later, Si Hyuk found himself nodding along to a madman’s schemes. He glanced to the seat Seokjin had vacated earlier. The brat was doing better, he had to admit, but things seemed to be at a standstill.

Something needed to change. Si Hyuk doubted this would help much, but a change of pace might just be the thing to push him in the right direction.

Or push him off the edge.

Either way, it would be better than this stagnation.

Who knows, maybe this lunatic might be onto something.

Like the guy said, what’s the worst that can happen?

Si Hyuk worked hard to ignore a foreboding tingle up his spine.

He sighed, completely giving up on following the young man’s jabbering. Si Hyuk just wanted to be a simple coffee shop owner.

Where did it all go wrong?

+++

Journal Entry 7

May 5, 2013

I gave it a day. Mostly because I'm an idiot, which has already been established, and have no idea what to say.

I tried calling a few times today.

He didn't answer. I'm disappointed but can't say I'm surprised.

Fuck.

I'm leaving him some texts. Hope he answers.

Fuck.

+++

He was a man on a mission.

Taehyung could feel Namjoon’s glare on the side of his face, but he aggressively ignored it. If he didn't do it, no one would, and Namjoon was going to end up hunchbacked, overweight, balding and alone. Well, maybe not all those things, but two out of four was a safe bet.

After the first few questions, which Taehyung ignored because Namjoon had a very good record for talking Taehyung out of his better ideas, he decided it was for the greater good of everyone involved if he just pulled a Transporter and quietly hauled the cargo to the destination.

He may have accidentally giggled out loud at mentally labeling Namjoon as cargo, which unfortunately resulted in Namjoon giving him a very dubious, very worried look. He stopped himself from commenting and making things worse when his passenger began eyeing the door handle with some intensity.

Yeah, just step on the gas, Tae. You got this.

Si Hyuk had okayed the meeting provided that it was after hours, so as not to interfere with his work, and that Taehyung was not present, which was mostly for the owner’s blood pressure.

Thankfully it wasn't a long drive, and as Taehyung pulled up in front of the shop, he put the car in park and reached across Namjoon to pop the door open for him.

“Okay, out.”

“Out where? Why? What the fuck, Tae,” Namjoon asked, a little wild-eyed. He stubbornly kept his seatbelt on, even as the door swung wide open.

“Namjoon, just go into that coffee shop, right there. Trust me, buddy.”

Namjoon did that thing where he jutted his jaw out. It was something he always did when he was at a loss for words but rearing for a fight, so Taehyung headed it off, “Look, I kind of have someone I think you could should meet, but I’m only like 50/50 on this. Consider this, like, an interview.”

“Tae,” Namjoon’s voice was a distinctly fake sort of calm, “it’s ass o’clock at night, I’ve just had a long ass day, why in the hell would I want to fucking have a fucking interview for a fucking date with some random ass person I’ve never fucking met?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to answer but closed it again with a click. Before Namjoon could start another rant, he realized a shadow had fallen over him and nearly gave himself whiplash when he twisted around to face the open door.

He felt his heart practically dance its way out of his chest as he took in the sight of the older and larger man leaning on the open car door.

“So,” the man drawled, “I'm going to go out on a limb and say your buddy just kidnapped you into this whole deal. Why am I not surprised?”

“Actually, it’s not kidnapping. He came of his own volition.”

“You told me we were getting coffee.”

“Which is technically true.”

“I'm going to kill you, Tae. And I'm going to burn you and put your fucking ashes behind the TV so you will always hear your favorite show but never see it.”

“Dude. That's really fucked up.”

“I know.”

The man cleared his throat and waited for the bickering duo to look at him before saying, “Not that I want to interrupt your little bonding session here, but it’s late and the quicker we get this over with the quicker I get to go home and hit the liquor.”

He pointed at Namjoon, “You, out of the car. I made us some coffee, and it’s getting cold.”

Then, he pointed with much more emphasis at Taehyung, “And you , shoo. I don’t care where. I don’t want to see you until this is over. He’ll give you a ring. Now chop chop.”

With no other choice, and honestly, between the two, the strange man at least sounded like he half-way made some sense, Namjoon finally unbuckled and stepped out the car.

“Play nice you two!” Taehyung waved, but before he could say anything more obnoxious, the man slammed the door shut and ushered Namjoon off to the shop. Neither of them looked back.

Once inside, Namjoon had to admit it was a quaint little place and had the circumstances been different, he may have decided this was a new regular spot. As it was though, Namjoon just felt the weight of the situation hang awkwardly over the entire shop. He needed better friends.

It was easy to find his seat, or rather, his stool by the cafe bar. A steaming cup of rather delicious coffee marked the spot. He headed straight for it, figuring the man was right and getting this, whatever this was, over and done with was the best option for everyone involved.

Also, figuring that he deserved it, considering the night he was having, Namjoon took a big sip from the cup. He was pleasantly surprised by the kick of the after taste.

“Good, right?” the man asked, looking pleased for the first time that evening. “It’s the cayenne. Gives it that extra kick. My nephew thought I was crazy for making spicy coffee, but what does that idiot know.”

“Yeah. It’s delicious.”

“Good. Now, let’s get down to business. Was I right to assume you have no idea what is happening?”

“You got that one right on the head.”

“Well, this is extra awkward then. Give me one second.” He went behind the counter and returned with a flask. He uncorked it and pretty much upended the thing into his own coffee, before noticing Namjoon staring. “Want some?”

“Maybe it would be better if one of us is sober.”

“Your loss,” he said and proceeded to empty the flask into the now extremely alcoholic coffee.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“The name is Bang Si Hyuk. I own this place.”

“So that really tells me nothing. How do you know Tae?”

“He wandered into my shop to stalk one of my regulars.”

“Oh, my god. Are you pressing charges? Is this a legal thing? Fuck, I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“Well, those are all good questions. I really should be pressing charges, shouldn’t I? But no, insanity is rampant in these parts, and your buddy there has got a plot set out for you.”

“What?”

“He wants to set you up with my regular.”

Namjoon stared at the man. “And you’re okay with this?”

“Not really, but I figured it was best to placate the bastard before he talked my ear off.”

“I’m so sorry about him. We try to keep him away from the regular folks.”

“Yeah. But the thing is, even half listening to him, I’ve got to admit, the man can make a point.”

“What?”

“The poor idiot really needs to get back on the horse. I mean, it’s been almost a year. He needs to start getting out of his comfort zone. Go out and see the world. Too busy living in the past is what I say.”

“Wait, are you talking about your regular? You actually want me to go out with this… wait, you said ‘he’? Your regular is a man?”

“Yes. Is this going to be a problem?”

“No? But that’s surprisingly progressive of you.”

“Well, whoop-dee-do.”

“No, but what the fuck? You want me to go out with this random guy? You don’t even know me! What about him? Why the hell am I even talking to you?”

“First, it’s not you specifically. I just think it’s about time he goes out with someone; anyone, really. Or at least give it a try. And since your friend conveniently volunteered you, I figured why not. You’re talking to me because, again, your friend, the root of all our problems, thought it was best if I vetted you, since apparently the rumor mill has indicated that I am someone with the authority to do that, but really, I don’t care.”

“Do I have any say in this?”

“Not really. He’s your friend, and between the two of us, I figure you would be making it much easier on yourself if you just went along with it.”

“What about the guy? Does he have any say?”

“Actually, yes. He doesn’t know about this, so it’s all up to you. If he turns you down, then it’s a bust. And we can all go back to our regular lives. Honestly, that’s probably the best case scenario.”

Namjoon stared at the Si Hyuk. He couldn’t believe this was his life. He wished someone was there to vet his friends back in college. Maybe he really ought to kill Tae. It’d be for the greater good of the world.

He sighed, defeated. Looking at his cup of coffee, he sighed again. “I don’t suppose you have anymore of whatever it was you had in the flask.”

Instead of answering, Si Hyuk heaved off his seat and went behind the counters again. This time he came back with two flasks.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “You guys have a liquor license?”

“We don’t serve alcohol.”

“Then what the hell is this?”

“This is what I call my Pest Stash. I’ve had it ever since the pain in the ass started coming in, and when your buddy popped by the other day, I knew it was time to restock. Personal use only.”

“Smart man.”

“Pragmatic.”

“You mind if I take it straight.”

“Go ahead. You might need it.”

“Thanks.”

+++

Journal Entry 8

May 6, 2013

So.

We have good news, and we have bad news.

Good news: he finally replied. I got a text after I low key blew up his phone.

Bad news: he said I didn't have anything to apologize for and that he was going to be out of town for a few days for work, and that he'll be out of touch because of bad signal or something.

I'm pretty sure that's a loud and clear give me space if there ever was one.

WHY WON’T HE JUST ACCEPT MY APOLOGY!

He sucks.

I suck more.

+++

Namjoon, despite his reluctance, found himself sitting in the cafe the following Sunday. Apparently, Si Hyuk had called Tae who called Namjoon five minutes before he drove by and all but hauled Namjoon off.

At least they served decent coffee here. He was rather frazzled; it was ass in the morning, and this was the one day he usually spoiled himself with a sleep-in, but not today. No, the combined force of Bang Si Hyuk and Kim Taehyung was wreaking havoc on his peaceful, organized existence. Well, once this blows up in their collective faces, he will take his sweet time in commencing with the mocking. They deserved all that he was going to send their way.

Namjoon didn't even bother dressing properly. Why put any effort into this farce? When Taehyung was banging on his apartment door, he was still stumbling around and just threw a dark sweater over his sleepwear and a cap on to cover his bed hair. The judgmental look he got from the fucker didn't help his mood at all, considering it was his fault Namjoon was even in this mess.

Regardless, he was now slouched down in one of the corner benches, trying his damned hardest to look unapproachable.

It was a slower morning and there were only one or two other patrons in the shop.

Bang Si Hyuk was standing behind the counter talking to a young man who looked just as miserable to be awake as Namjoon felt. Also, the guys looked like he put about half as much effort into his outfit as Namjoon did.

Clearly, this was a kindred spirit.

He sighed. It was a drag waiting for his boiling hot coffee to cool enough to drink. Per his order, he wanted the thing scalding enough to burn through the sleep haze.

He was just scrolling through his phone when the door chimed and a tall figure walked in. At the time, he was only vaguely aware of a whole lot of beige ambling across the room, more focused on reorganizing his playlist. But out of nowhere, Si Hyuk let out a tremendous bellow that sent everyone in the shop jumping.

“If I hear one more god damned pun-”

And then a squeaky sound cut the raging man’s tirade off. It took Namjoon a few seconds to place the sound as laughter and that the laughter was coming from the figure in an oversized beige sweater standing by the counter. He couldn't hear the customer’s response, but even from where he was sitting, he felt rather than saw exasperation from the owner.

Of course, that was when Si Hyuk looked his way and winked, tilting his head slightly at the newcomer.

Really?

This was the guy?

Sure, Namjoon wasn't expecting much, but from the last conversation with the other man, he had assumed the ‘target’ was someone he cared for more than he was willing to say. Now it seemed more like the man couldn't stand him. Or would much rather be wringing his neck.

Also, he couldn't see the guy’s face from where he was sitting, but the ridiculously giant sweatshirt was throwing him off.

Whatever. Best get this over and done with so he could say he tried and then focus his efforts on more important things, like getting his revenge. Taehyung was going to pay for dragging him into this mess.

Namjoon shoved his phone into his pocket and picked up his coffee, careful not to burn himself on the heat of the cup. Damn, he really should pay more attention to how he phrased his orders here, that is, if he ever decided to come back.

Chances of that were pretty darn slim at the moment.

He made his way over to the bar seating by the register and dropped onto one of the stools with a small huff. Namjoon was just setting down the cup, ignoring the raised eyebrow of the young man behind the counter, when he saw Sweatshirt Guy pick up his order.

He watched Sweatshirt turn toward him, his eyes on the man’s drink, some kind of icy sugary concoction that he would hardly call coffee, as the other man raised it to his lips. His eyes followed the drink upwards to the face and-

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck, the guy was cute.

Oh, crap.

He wasn't ready. Nope. No. Oh, god. Fuck! Fuck Taehyung! Fuck Si Hyuk! Why did nobody warn him?

No. Those lips were obscene! Who let this man out in public. Shit! Sweatshirt still had a hint of a smirk on his face as he held the straw between his teeth, and-

“Hey, man. Just letting you know you look fucking stupid with your mouth hanging open like that,” said the guy behind the counter, snapping Namjoon out of his small freak-out.

He whirled toward the barista and stared at him instead.

“You alright, there?” the barista asked. “Actually, don't answer that. I don't really care.”

After a moment of disbelief, Namjoon narrowed his eyes at the guy. His name tag read ��Yoongi’.

“Yoongi, is it? You always talk to your customers like that?”

“Only when they're being pathetic losers.”

Namjoon opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he gathered himself enough to ask, “What happened to valuing the experience here?”

“I let you know you looked dumb, didn't I? Not everyone would bother with the effort. Also, first class experience doesn't equal first class service.”

“How does that make any sense?”

“Experience means memory. We’re memorable.”

“I call bullshit.”

“You would be correct,” the barista deadpanned and pulled out his phone, apparently losing interest in the conversation.

“What?”

“That was all bullshit. Truth is I don't give enough fucks to be polite.”

“You know, honesty is not always the best policy.”

Yoongi just shrugged, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

And this goes to show that Namjoon was a horrible judge of character. He honestly thought this punk was a kindred spirit for a moment this morning.

“Is Yoongi giving you a hard time?” a soft voice came from close beside him. He jumped slightly and whipped around to look.

Oh, shit.

It was Sweatshirt. Oh, fuck.

“You should play nice with the newbies, Yoongi. How are you going to get repeats?”

“Last time Boss played nice, we got stuck with you as a regular.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Not a compliment.”

“It's a matter of perspective.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me and you know it. Everyone loves me.”

Yoongi gave a squinty-eyed glare at the man and turned to Namjoon, “This was the idiot you were checking out. Consider this me judging your poor taste in men.”

Namjoon felt his face flush and just raised his coffee to his face for a lack of a better thing to do, when he felt the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder.

He looked over and found Sweatshirt leaning close.

“Aw, don't let that grouch get to you. If it makes you feel any better, I can't blame you for looking. I would check me out any day.”

He followed that up with a wink.

And then Namjoon, instead of taking a sip like he intended, proceeded to pour the entirety of the still (amazingly) hot coffee onto his own lap.

He was not ashamed to say he let out a blood-curdling scream.

There were too many other things to be ashamed of in the chaos following the initial disaster. A startled customer kicked over a table and the tell tale crash of plates filled the air, Si Hyuk all but flew to the back for first aid, and Namjoon had knocked over an entire row of stools in his hurry to stand and slap off the excess fiery liquid.

Worst of all, the figurative icing on this mess of a cake, was Sweatshirt. The man jumped into action and quickly came to Namjoon’s rescue by tugging down his sweatpants and pressing his ice drink to Namjoon’s wounded lap.

Which was how he found himself, tears streaming down his face, standing in the middle of the coffee shop with his pants halfway down his legs, and the man of his dreams kneeling in front of him rubbing his drink on his privates.

Of course, Yoongi was recording the whole thing.

Much later, the shop was empty except for Si Hyuk, Yoongi, and Namjoon, who were all seated at the corner bench. Namjoon was holding two ice packs on his lap.

A hastily written sign taped on the door read, ‘Closed for emergency.’

The silence was overwhelming, until Si Hyuk finally broke it, “How the fuck?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled.

“No, how? What the fuck?”

“I know.”

“My shop is a mess.”

“I'm in pain.”

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi, eyes still glued to his phone, which had been out since the start of this mess, decided to add, “Just so you know, this is going on instagram.”

“Yoongi, no,” Si Hyuk sighed.

“Yoongi, yes.”

Special thanks to allourheroes and dharyism for reading over!

[novantinuum]

B, F, H, I, K, M, N, S, and V? /sits

*sits as well* Holy mackerel this gonna take a while XP

B- Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?While the actual story wasn’t based on personal experience, (dear goodness I’m glad it wasn’t), I plotted out and wrote When We’re Human Again as a direct response to being in a HS production of Beauty and the Beast at the very beginning of my Gravity Falls hyperfixation. Of course, it took like... nine months to actually complete it, but oh well. 

F- Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“No sleep last night, huh?” he asked, glancing between the boy and the pancake slowly browning on the griddle. “You up late readin’ again? I know you like your books kid, but you need ta stop makin’ that a habit. I mean, one insomniac in the house is bad enough,” he said with a slight chuckle.

He glanced towards Dipper. For a moment there was no response. The kid just kept laying there. Motionless. Sweet Moses, was he okay? Worry creased his brow.

“Dipper? Hey. You alive there, kid?”

“I wasn’t reading,” he mumbled in response, not lifting his head from his arms.

“Then what-”

Dipper shifted uncomfortably, lifting his head up enough for Stan to see the dark rings around his eyes.

“Nightmare,” he said matter-of-factly.

Oh. Oh. Of course.

“M'sorry, kid. D'ya wanna talk about it?” He flipped the pancake over, salivating a little when it sizzled.

“Mm, not really.”

“Does Mabel know?”

“Didn’t wanna upset her.”

******* (some description cut) ********

“Hey, how 'bout we stay in today instead of going to the lake?” he offered, hoping Dipper would give him some positive response. “Watch some movies? You and Ford could play that nerd game of yours, whatever you want.”

“I’d like that,” the kid muttered, a corner of his lip curling into a half smile.

I really like this passage for how it came out feeling so natural? I dunno, dialogue is usually one of the trickiest things for me to write but this moment came easily. I love how it shows such a love and understanding between Stan and Dipper. 

H- How would you describe your style?Hmmm, well it oscillates between lengthy rambling paragraphs (the sort that are an imitation of purple prose but ultimately fail to meet that mark) that set up the mood/location and miles of nothing but dialogue with the occasional awkward character description peppered in between that makes no anatomical sense. I roast myself with good humor, but to be honest... this is what always happens when I write ahahah. This is my true form guys! XD

I- Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic? (reading/writing?)I mentioned it a bit before, but magical transformations. One of my all time favorite AUs is the one where everyone in the Pines family are just... selkies. :D

Werewolf Stan? Heck yeah! Ghoul Ford? Mega rad! The McGucket family as mers? Fantastic! And while I’m not 100% allured by Monster Falls- mainly because a lot of the stories about that AU tend to involve bi//dip, which I don’t like- I do sometimes find a few fics that are mega awesome for it!

The other guilty pleasure is hurt/comfort regarding Ford and his HC’d scars. I will die by that HC whoOPS 

K- What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?Oh boy... oh boy... Well, I don’t know if it’s the angstiest, (I’d kinda like to keep those close at heart until I do something with them muAHAHAH), but like... imagine an AU where Ford was pulled through the rift alongside all of Bill’s friends at the end of weirdmageddon because of the link between him and Bill. Imagine Stan losing his brother again but this time he can’t even remember him.

M- Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?I mean, I’ve got a lot of AU things I’d like to get back to first off... still wanna do things with the hunger games/GF AU... need to draw more There’s A Long and Winding Road... the two aforementioned AUs above.

N/S- Answered!

V- If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?hhHHHH this is tricky... I’m not sure I really have an answer, since I’m kinda... perpetually insecure about my own skills and would fear I’d never give justice to any of the fics I love the most? 

So we’ll change this question to “What fic do you hope to see a prequel/sequel/continuation of?”

I’m still waiting in hope for more of @jheselbraum​ ‘s The Wind in Visions, for one. :DD 

And Frostbite! (ford runs into some wendigos) I loved that one so much!

And I’d love to see a sequel (well, another sequel there already IS one...) to Things Change, a fic where everyone on the zodiac ends up stuck with... unwanted powers... after weirdmageddon.

(Fanfic asks)

(Taking more!)

[eponymous-rose]

Holy moly, that was a good one. Fave stuff:

DEEP callbacks on that resurrection ritual. Vex referenced the book she read 46 episodes ago, Keyleth repeated the words Vax spoke to her 56 episodes ago, and Grog echoed his words to Vax from 64 episodes ago.

Oh golly, the eeriness of having that additional presence involved in the ritual. Vex rounding on the Raven Queen and making a bargain of her own by promising to kill a god was incredible. Keyleth quietly pulling back to the personal, being a light in the darkness, was incredible. And yes, even Grog figuring out a way to make "I love you, too” an intimidation check was incredible.

I am so invested in everything about Vex’s tangential interactions with the Raven Queen. Her brother’s not the only pawn in this game, and she is abundantly aware of that. Also: ah jeez, when Laura made Liam cry at the end of it, my heart.

I loved everything about the beach scene. Keyleth hesitating to give Tary a necklace and Percy making him a seashell crown instead. “Long may he reign.”

KEYLETH oh gosh I am so proud of someone else’s D&D character this feels so strange. Any character who, when given the power to TURN INTO A LITERAL DRAGON FOR AN HOUR, chooses to use that power to give dragon-back rides to an entire city? That’s my kind of character.

On a similar note, the conversation between Vex and Keyleth was so lovely. I adore these more-and-more-common scenes that’re just Vex affirming Keyleth and Keyleth getting all giddy about it.

Pike. Just everything about Pike. Just literally everything that Pike is and chooses to be. Holy shit.

Ordering Doty to get portraits of her friends... upon which he takes the order alarmingly literally and marches around sketching all of them while they’re in bed at night. And then turning them into flash-cards. Holy mackerel. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust from laughing so hard. I want to isolate that sequence and upload it to YouTube, but I’m pretty sure it’s like a full half-hour long. Worth it.

Reading the super-duper evil tome was so nerve-wracking, but oh man, it was so fitting that Vex read it. She’s the one who does this stuff, you know? When it comes right down to it, she does the research when it involves anything that tears through her family: dragons, the Raven Queen, and now Opash and his legacy.

Speaking of, holy shit, Matt. “Let’s read this book.” “’kay, neat, I’ll just casually whip out an entire fucking novella that’ll neatly tie together several loose ends from the last plot, nbd.”

Grog successfully did a bamboozle! gg ez

Just, this is such a great show. Given the extreme tension in the last episode, it was amazing to get the reminder of how much these characters care for each other. Wonderful all around. Can’t wait to see what happens next.

[courtneytincher]

The Biggest Battleship to Ever Set Sail Sunk in the Ultimate Suicide Mission

Sakae Katano recalled, “We kept swimming as a group for a while and saw the Yamato slide towards the ocean bottom. We gathered some lumber and made a raft, putting the injured men on it. By now there were only five or six of my men with me. I had a bad feeling for I knew there were sharks in the sea.In the late afternoon of April 6, 1945, five days after American GIs and leathernecks scrambled onto an Okinawa beach a scant 500 miles from Japan, two U.S. submarines, Hackleback and Threadin, lurking around the Bungo Suido exit from the Inland Sea, observed the passage of 10 Japanese warships, including a very large one.Last Remaining Pride of the Imperial NavyIn the dim light through the periscope, a sub skipper guessed the biggest enemy vessel was an aircraft carrier. In fact, it was the last remaining pride of the Imperial Navy, the mighty battleship Yamato, under full steam. Escorted by a light cruiser and eight destroyers in the East China Sea, the Yamato could only be bound for the American anchorage off Okinawa. The Japanese task force was under Vice Adm. Seiichi Ito with Rear Adm. Kosaku Ariga in command of the Yamato.Under orders to report but not attack, the submarines advised the Pacific Fifth Fleet headquarters of their sightings. Alerted by a radio message, Rear Adm. Morton Deyo, commander of the American gunfire and bombardment forces off Okinawa, prepared to execute a battle plan that would dispatch six battleships, seven cruisers, and 21 destroyers to intercept the Yamato and its cohorts. Deyo’s superior, Vice Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner, advised, “Hope you will bring back a nice fish for breakfast.” But even as Deyo scribbled his reply, “Many thanks, will try to,” the radio crackled news that Task Force 58, Vice Adm. Marc Mitscher’s fast carrier group, had picked up the scent and was already launching an airborne attack. Deyo then added the comment, “If the pelicans haven’t caught them all.”Recommended: How the Air Force Would Destroy North KoreaRecommended: 10 Reasons No Nation Wants to Fight IsraelRecommended: North Korea Has Underground Air BasesA Formidable Vessel From an Earlier EraDisplacing 68,000 tons with nine huge 18.1-inch guns that measured 70 feet in length, the oversize Yamato dwarfed any vessel in the U.S. Navy. Built in secrecy to evade treaties restricting the size of the Japanese fleet, the Yamato, along with its sister heavyweight, the Musashi, boasted armor plate more than 25 inches thick. Launched before the raid on Pearl Harbor, the pair threatened American domination of the sea. But as World War II progressed, the aircraft carrier had swiftly eroded the traditional primacy of surface firepower.The rather elderly battleships mustered by Admiral Deyo matched up poorly against the Yamato. While the Japanese behemoth could toss its ordnance 45,000 yards, the best efforts of the Americans would fall almost two miles shorter. But in theory, the half-dozen U.S. dreadnaughts, bolstered by a full complement of cruisers and destroyers, might outmaneuver the much smaller enemy fleet and overcome the advantages possessed by the Yamato.During the first months of the war, Yamato and Musashi had followed the lead Japanese strike force that aimed at Midway Island in June 1942. But after the U.S. Navy destroyed four enemy aircraft carriers, the Imperial Fleet retreated, leaving the pair of monsters to vainly wander the Pacific for two years, searching for a chance to wield their enormous cannon while dodging American bombers and carrier planes.Yamato Nicked Up During Largest Naval Battle In World HistoryOpportunity beckoned during the U.S. invasion of the Philippines in the fall of 1944. As General Douglas MacArthur sloshed onto a Leyte Island beach to pronounce, “I have returned,” armadas from the United States and Japan sailed toward a shoot-out in Leyte Gulf in what would be the largest naval battle in world history. One of several Japanese task forces, a flotilla that included Yamato, Musashi, and three other battleships plus a cohort of powerful escorts, but bereft of any real fighter screen, plunged into Philippine waters. American torpedo bombers, virtually unmolested, pummeled the intruders. In a day-long assault, nearly 40 torpedoes and bombs smashed into Musashi before the huge ship finally capsized and sank. The Yamato fared better, suffering minor damage. However, the remaining giant fled the scene with its companions.Since then, the Yamato, as a floating bastion prepared to defend Japan itself against invasion, had stuck close to its home base at Tokuyama. But now, with the enemy ashore on Okinawa, on the doorstep of the Home Islands, the High Command ordered Yamato on what even the most optimistic considered a suicide mission. Strategists hoped the battleship’s vast firepower would distract the Americans enough to allow a massive kamikaze strike to penetrate U.S. defenses and destroy the fleet off Okinawa.Naval Kamikaze Mission Proposed For YamatoOne preposterous scenario proposed that if the Yamato could stagger through the enemy gauntlet and the ship could first empty its arsenal of 3,200-pound shells at the American troops, it might then beach itself. The nearly 3,000 crewmen would surge ashore to act as ground soldiers. Some reports claim the Yamato had only enough fuel for a one-way voyage, but author George Feifer’s research indicates the vessel held enough for a return, unlikely as the possibility might have been.With the discovery that it had left its sanctuary, the race to sink the Yamato was on. Seemingly, the contest pitted the seagoing U.S. warships against the dive-bombers and torpedo planes from its flattops. But the American men-of-war would never have a shot at the target. A prowler from the carrier Essex caught sight of the Japanese warships. Then, early on April 7, a pair of Marine twin-engine flying boats, hovering just out of range of the enemy antiaircraft guns, tracked the prey for five hours.When the distance from Task Force 58 narrowed to 250 miles, Vice Adm. Mitscher launched his planes; some 280 dive and torpedo bombers comprised the initial waves. Ensign Harry Jones, a native of Pittsburgh in an Avenger from Torpedo Squadron 17 aboard the carrier Hornet, recalled, “Scuttlebutt on the ship had it that the battleship admirals who outranked the air admirals wanted to shoot it out with the Japanese. But the Yamato’s guns were bigger than anything we had and the air admirals won out. We would intercept them.In Hot Pursuit Of a Big Fish“We took off from the Hornet, seven torpedo bombers plus fighters and dive bombers. The torpedo planes, which had search radar, did the navigation and it was a poor day for flying, rainy, misty, a lot of scud, not much ceiling. The flight leader from another carrier developed engine trouble and turned the lead over to our air group, bossed by Comdr. E.G. Konrad, a Naval Academy graduate.“The lead pilot said they ought to be in range, but we couldn’t see anything on radar. Konrad said stay on course. One plane radioed he saw a blip off to starboard about 50 miles out and we turned right. Then we saw them. Holy Mackerel! The Yamato looked like the Empire State Building plowing through the water. It was really big. We orbited around out of their gun range. They opened up with main batteries, 18-inch guns. What was surprising to us was that there were no Japanese aircraft around even though we were very near their home islands.”Unprotected Yamato Relies On Its Big GunsIn a fatal decision for the Yamato and its companions, the Imperial Navy had decided to reserve almost all available aircraft for kamikaze missions. Less than a half-dozen Japanese fighters appeared on the scene, and they were quickly overwhelmed. In its own defense, the Yamatopossessed awesome weapons. Extra guns had been added to an already prodigious array of antiaircraft firepower, six 6-inch secondary batteries, 24 5-inch antiaircraft guns, and 150 machine guns, along with all that the escorts could throw up. A special new shell equipped with a time fuse exploded into 6,000 deadly pieces. To ward off low-flying torpedo planes, the battleship’s big guns blasted giant waterspouts. But none of these defenses could deal with strikes by so many aircraft manned by skilled airmen.At 12:32, the Yamato had opened up on the approaching aircraft. According to Avenger pilot Harry Jones, “The air boss gave us the order of attack. He said, ‘Shasta,’ meaning those from the Hornetgo in first. Then he read off the order in which the planes from other carriers would attack. We didn’t have too much ceiling. I was at 12,000 feet at most and usually liked to start at 18,000 feet for a torpedo run, a steep approach and then right over the water, drop the torpedo and then get the hell out of there. Meanwhile, the bombers are supposed to be going down, so we all hit the ship simultaneously.”American Planes Draw BloodConfusion continues about who actually scored the initial hits. Some accounts report that bomb-laden Grumman F6F Hellcat fighters from the Hornet actually struck first, targeting the destroyers and the light cruiser Yahagi that formed a diamond shape surrounding the battleship. The fighter-bombers claimed two hits, and Lt. Cmdr. M.U. Beebe, the squadron honcho whose plane bore no bomb, zoomed in for a strafing run at the Yahagi. Hellcats from other ships also blasted the escorts. Their mission was to suppress and draw off fire, enabling the other attackers to zero in on the main target, Yamato.In the assault on the cruiser Yahagi and the destroyers, a swarm of Grumman Avengers, armed with torpedoes set to only a 12-foot depth, zeroed in on the smaller ships. Within a few minutes, the Yahagi lay dead in the water. Seven torpedoes and 12 bombs eventually devastated the cruiser. It foundered with only a handful of survivors left to tread water.Avenger pilot Lieutenant Robert L. Mini, separated from the others in his flight because of cloud cover, glimpsed a destroyer. He dropped his tin fish while dodging flak bursts. “Bingo!” an exultant gunner shouted over the intercom. Aviation Machinist’s Mate Third Class William A. Baker saw the Mark 13 torpedo slam into the tin can with a fiery explosion.Mini is credited with having blasted the destroyer Hamikaze. It sagged amidships, broke in two, and finally flashed its crimson underbody as it disappeared beneath the water. Three more of Yamato’s accompanying warships, battered beyond repair, were abandoned and scuttled. The surviving quartet of destroyers, all nursing serious wounds, would hang about long enough to pluck up some of those in the sea and flee to safety.Stunned But Not Out, Yamato Punches BackIt was not, however, a day at the seaside for the American Navy. Lieutenant Norman A. Weise, concentrating on his destroyer quarry, accidentally passed within range of the Yamato’s antiaircraft batteries. Shrapnel from 25mm shells burst in the vicinity of Weise’s Avenger just as he released his torpedo. Jagged shards of metal ripped through his windscreen and into the cockpit. One splinter dug into his scalp while gasoline from a ruptured fuel gauge sprayed his face, temporarily blinding him. Fragments from another shell wrecked the radio compartment, wounding his gunner. His rudder and vertical stabilizer absorbed two more hits. Weise managed to guide his crippled plane back to a safe landing on a carrier.Nine minutes after the opening salvo from the Yamato’s defenses, dive-bombers plunged down on the battleship at 400 knots per hour. A pair of thousand-pound bombs exploded near the mainmast, obliterating a radar room and a fire-control station. Avenger pilot Harry Jones recalled, “We spread out and I kept diving toward different puffs of smoke, where shells had already exploded. There shouldn’t be any damage there. There were two fighter planes in front of each of the torpedo planes. They were supposed to strafe the destroyers and probably draw some of the fire. I saw one of our replacement pilots in a plane take a direct hit and explode in the air. Down he went. I went down, dropped my torpedo and went right across the bow of Yamato. The ship was turning, but in our attack we always dropped in a fan shape so no matter which way a ship is turning, it is going to get hit. Our group was credited with two torpedo hits out of the seven planes, but the gun camera that showed my angle on the bow didn’t credit me with a hit.” From Jones’s VT-17, Lieutenant Thomas C. Durkin, the executive officer, actually registered the initial torpedo hit on the target.Torpedo Depth Recalibrated To Strike Yamato’s Weaker UnderbellyWhen the first tin fish exploded against the battleship’s hull, however, it did little damage. The squadron’s Mark 13 missiles had been set for 12 feet below the surface, striking the Yamato where the armor was thickest. One of the reasons Mini and those in his squadron settled on the more lightly shielded cruiser and the destroyers had been the knowledge of their vulnerability to even shallow-depth torpedoes. Aware of the problem, VT-84 from the carrier Bunker Hill reset its weapons to dive deeper into the water, bringing them home below the Yamato’s protective iron plates.Lieutenant Commander Chandler W. Swanson led VT-84 and instructed his people at the pre-takeoff briefing, “This squadron will attack the battleship and only in case of necessity will any pilot drop on any other target.” When they came within range of the Yamato, Swanson broke his 14 Avengers into two flights for an anvil-like approach. As they closed to drop their torpedoes, the Americans separated into groups of two and three, making a five-pronged assault.“Our Planes Were Crisscrossing Over the Target From All Directions.”Swanson reported, “As soon as we started diving from the overcast, they threw everything at us, including a barrage from the Yamato’s 16 [sic] inch guns. Puffs of purple, red, yellow and green flak blanketed the sky. It would have been beautiful if you didn’t know it was so deadly. Our planes were crisscrossing over the target from all directions. That was the most dangerous part of it. We had to keep from running into our own planes. There were so many of them and so little room to maneuver. It was surprising we had no collisions.”One plane, hit by fire from the battleship, suddenly nosed down and then blew up when it smashed into the ocean. Undaunted, the others, jinking now and then to throw off enemy gunners, a mere 500 feet above the water, homed in. From a distance of less than a mile, torpedoes flopped smoothly into the sea and then swiftly darted toward Yamato. The vessel swerved in a vain effort to avoid the onrushing Mark 13s. But at 1:37, an hour or so after the action began, three torpedoes blasted the port side, doing significant harm. Moments later, another pair hammered the stricken battlewagon on the same side. Lieutenant W.P. Popp said, “It looked like Old Faithful geyser erupting when the torpedoes hit the Yamato.”Death Blow DeliveredSeawater rushed into the gaping holes, and the ship began to list badly. Rear Admiral Ariga was forced to order flooding of the starboard-side engine and boiler rooms. A warning to sailors in these areas arrived too late, and several hundred men drowned at their posts. While the maneuver temporarily prevented the ship from capsizing, it slowed drastically with only a single screw still churning.For Lieutenant j.g. Jack Speidel from VT-29, assigned to the light carrier Cabot, this was his second crack at the Yamato, since he had been among the aviators whose swipes at the ship during the battle of Leyte Gulf failed to inflict serious damage. Now, in the East China Sea, he arrived on the scene after the first blows at the Japanese giant and her escorts. “When we took off for the Yamatoon April 7, we had one drop tank that gave us an extra hour of flying time. There was an overcast and one group never did find the Yamato. Everybody had to go through a single hole in that overcast, and there was so many planes it was incredible.“I remember colored bursts in front of us and splashes in the water from enemy ships. We came in on the port side, not real low. Others had probably already hit the ship. After we dropped the torpedo and turned away, my radioman was watching and he screamed, ‘We hit it! We hit it!’” The history of the Cabot claims Speidel’s tin fish struck “directly under the bridge, causing a terrific explosion.”Hiding From Japanese Ships In Freezing WatersA pilot from the light carrier Belleau Wood, Lieutenant j.g. W.E. Delaney, made his attack at 1,400 feet, dropping four 500-pounders. As his plane passed over the battleship, he said, “There was a loud explosion under the fuselage. The cockpit filled with smoke and fumes. One wing was on fire. I was afraid the plane would explode and ordered my crew [a gunner and radioman] to jump. They bailed out five miles southwest of the Jap task force. I watched their parachutes open, then I jumped.” Unfortunately, although Delaney saw their chutes deploy, both men apparently drowned.Delaney, after hitting the sea in the midst of the enemy vessels, managed to inflate his rubber raft. He stayed in the water, though, hanging onto the raft and hiding from the Japanese. A destroyer came within a hundred yards but veered off, apparently thinking there was no American survivor. “At first I was so cold,” said Delaney, “when the Jap can approached, I thought of giving up. But I decided they might shoot me. So I stayed behind the raft.”Patrol Planes Aided Rescue MissionThe pilots from the two Marine flying boats, Lieutenant James R. Young and Lieutenant j.g. Richard L. Simms, still on station, saw Delaney floating amid Japanese sailors who had abandoned their sinking ships and clung to bits of wreckage. While Simms acted as a decoy to draw off any fire from the remaining enemy vessels, Young set down his patrol plane, took Delaney aboard, and flew him to safety on Okinawa.According to Harry Jones, observation or scouting planes that ordinarily launched by catapult from the decks of battleships or cruisers had been ordered to tag along to perform rescues like the one that saved Delaney. “I remember a pilot from one of these came on the radio and said he was getting low on gas and was going to turn around. I heard what must have been a fighter pilot say, ‘If you turn around, you son of a bitch, I’m going to shoot you down.’”On board the Yamato, Sakae Katano, a 26-year-old sub-lieutenant with a duty to organize repairs from air raids, made a futile attempt to restore operations. “Telephones were not working any longer and the ship started to heel. I left one of my men behind and took the rest to do the repairs. But while we were running there, a torpedo hit the right side of the ship. I closed the hatch and came up again. Our personal belongings were floating in the water, which came up to our knees.Yamato’s Final Hours“The flag could no longer be seen and I thought nothing more could be done. I tried to go back to my men but found it impossible because of the water. I called my men; there were 18 of them and they came by. I ordered them to leave the ship, jump into the sea. They did not have enough courage to follow the order, so I jumped first. I say ‘jump’ but it was really a matter of sliding down the side of the ship. My men followed.”Ensign Mitsuru Yoshida reported, “The desolate decks were reduced to shambles. Big guns were inoperable because of the increasing list, and only a few machine guns were intact. One devastating blast in the emergency dispensary had killed all its occupants, including the medical officers and corpsmen.”The Yamato, considered a luxury ship by Japanese sailors ordinarily confined to fetid, spartan quarters, could only be described now as hell on water. Amid the continuing explosions of torpedoes and bombs, American planes methodically hosed the stricken ship with machine-gun fire. Steam from ruptured pipes scalded sailors; fire incinerated others; corpses and body parts littered the blood-soaked decks.The Skipper Bound In The BridgeIt was apparent to those in command that the Yamato was doomed. Amid the wreckage and bodies strewn about the bridge, Seiichi Ito, as task force commander, signaled the other ships to abort the mission. Those still afloat would try to pick up some of the men floundering in the water and then head for port. Ito saluted, shook hands with some other officers, then locked himself in his cabin. He would go down with the battleship.The Yamato’s skipper, Ariga, rather than permit hallowed portraits of the Emperor and Empress to suffer the indignities of capture, arranged for an officer to secure himself in a room with the artwork. Ariga then ordered a seaman to bind him to a binnacle on the bridge. There he chewed biscuits, awaiting his inevitable fate.In the bowels of the battleship, fire cooked off ammunition magazines, inducing shattering convulsions of the infrastructure. The subterranean blasts erupted through the steel decks into a 6,000-foot tongue of fire stretching into the sky. A four-mile pillar of smoke trailed the Yamato. At 2:23 in the afternoon, the great ship rolled over and sank, dragging down with it some 2,500 sailors. Only 269 survived.Role Of the Battleship In Naval Warfare Comes To a CloseSakae Katano recalled, “We kept swimming as a group for a while and saw the Yamato slide towards the ocean bottom. We gathered some lumber and made a raft, putting the injured men on it. By now there were only five or six of my men with me. I had a bad feeling for I knew there were sharks in the sea.“American planes came strafing but after a while they were gone. Japanese destroyers began to appear, so we tried to swim to get near them. Because of the tidal current we couldn’t. Finally, we gave up and fell asleep on the raft. Then I heard voices and, when I opened my eyes, I found the destroyer Ukikaze nearby. I swam near it and was expected to climb a rope ladder to the ship. I ordered a crewman on the destroyer to throw a rope down to me. I looped the rope around my waist and put one end in my mouth so my teeth could hold it while they pulled me up. My hands were too slippery to hold the rope and besides I was too exhausted.“After I was rescued, I went to see one of my men. I offered him a cigarette but he could not take it. He was completely armless and legless. He died while on the destroyer.”The hopeless excursion by the Japanese task force ended with as many as 3,750 of its crews dead. Mitscher counted 10 aircraft and 12 airmen lost. The last remnants of the once-powerful Imperial Japanese Navy had been vanquished, and the role of the battleship permanently eliminated.This article by Gerald Astor originally appeared on Warfare History Network.

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Sakae Katano recalled, “We kept swimming as a group for a while and saw the Yamato slide towards the ocean bottom. We gathered some lumber and made a raft, putting the injured men on it. By now there were only five or six of my men with me. I had a bad feeling for I knew there were sharks in the sea.In the late afternoon of April 6, 1945, five days after American GIs and leathernecks scrambled onto an Okinawa beach a scant 500 miles from Japan, two U.S. submarines, Hackleback and Threadin, lurking around the Bungo Suido exit from the Inland Sea, observed the passage of 10 Japanese warships, including a very large one.Last Remaining Pride of the Imperial NavyIn the dim light through the periscope, a sub skipper guessed the biggest enemy vessel was an aircraft carrier. In fact, it was the last remaining pride of the Imperial Navy, the mighty battleship Yamato, under full steam. Escorted by a light cruiser and eight destroyers in the East China Sea, the Yamato could only be bound for the American anchorage off Okinawa. The Japanese task force was under Vice Adm. Seiichi Ito with Rear Adm. Kosaku Ariga in command of the Yamato.Under orders to report but not attack, the submarines advised the Pacific Fifth Fleet headquarters of their sightings. Alerted by a radio message, Rear Adm. Morton Deyo, commander of the American gunfire and bombardment forces off Okinawa, prepared to execute a battle plan that would dispatch six battleships, seven cruisers, and 21 destroyers to intercept the Yamato and its cohorts. Deyo’s superior, Vice Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner, advised, “Hope you will bring back a nice fish for breakfast.” But even as Deyo scribbled his reply, “Many thanks, will try to,” the radio crackled news that Task Force 58, Vice Adm. Marc Mitscher’s fast carrier group, had picked up the scent and was already launching an airborne attack. Deyo then added the comment, “If the pelicans haven’t caught them all.”Recommended: How the Air Force Would Destroy North KoreaRecommended: 10 Reasons No Nation Wants to Fight IsraelRecommended: North Korea Has Underground Air BasesA Formidable Vessel From an Earlier EraDisplacing 68,000 tons with nine huge 18.1-inch guns that measured 70 feet in length, the oversize Yamato dwarfed any vessel in the U.S. Navy. Built in secrecy to evade treaties restricting the size of the Japanese fleet, the Yamato, along with its sister heavyweight, the Musashi, boasted armor plate more than 25 inches thick. Launched before the raid on Pearl Harbor, the pair threatened American domination of the sea. But as World War II progressed, the aircraft carrier had swiftly eroded the traditional primacy of surface firepower.The rather elderly battleships mustered by Admiral Deyo matched up poorly against the Yamato. While the Japanese behemoth could toss its ordnance 45,000 yards, the best efforts of the Americans would fall almost two miles shorter. But in theory, the half-dozen U.S. dreadnaughts, bolstered by a full complement of cruisers and destroyers, might outmaneuver the much smaller enemy fleet and overcome the advantages possessed by the Yamato.During the first months of the war, Yamato and Musashi had followed the lead Japanese strike force that aimed at Midway Island in June 1942. But after the U.S. Navy destroyed four enemy aircraft carriers, the Imperial Fleet retreated, leaving the pair of monsters to vainly wander the Pacific for two years, searching for a chance to wield their enormous cannon while dodging American bombers and carrier planes.Yamato Nicked Up During Largest Naval Battle In World HistoryOpportunity beckoned during the U.S. invasion of the Philippines in the fall of 1944. As General Douglas MacArthur sloshed onto a Leyte Island beach to pronounce, “I have returned,” armadas from the United States and Japan sailed toward a shoot-out in Leyte Gulf in what would be the largest naval battle in world history. One of several Japanese task forces, a flotilla that included Yamato, Musashi, and three other battleships plus a cohort of powerful escorts, but bereft of any real fighter screen, plunged into Philippine waters. American torpedo bombers, virtually unmolested, pummeled the intruders. In a day-long assault, nearly 40 torpedoes and bombs smashed into Musashi before the huge ship finally capsized and sank. The Yamato fared better, suffering minor damage. However, the remaining giant fled the scene with its companions.Since then, the Yamato, as a floating bastion prepared to defend Japan itself against invasion, had stuck close to its home base at Tokuyama. But now, with the enemy ashore on Okinawa, on the doorstep of the Home Islands, the High Command ordered Yamato on what even the most optimistic considered a suicide mission. Strategists hoped the battleship’s vast firepower would distract the Americans enough to allow a massive kamikaze strike to penetrate U.S. defenses and destroy the fleet off Okinawa.Naval Kamikaze Mission Proposed For YamatoOne preposterous scenario proposed that if the Yamato could stagger through the enemy gauntlet and the ship could first empty its arsenal of 3,200-pound shells at the American troops, it might then beach itself. The nearly 3,000 crewmen would surge ashore to act as ground soldiers. Some reports claim the Yamato had only enough fuel for a one-way voyage, but author George Feifer’s research indicates the vessel held enough for a return, unlikely as the possibility might have been.With the discovery that it had left its sanctuary, the race to sink the Yamato was on. Seemingly, the contest pitted the seagoing U.S. warships against the dive-bombers and torpedo planes from its flattops. But the American men-of-war would never have a shot at the target. A prowler from the carrier Essex caught sight of the Japanese warships. Then, early on April 7, a pair of Marine twin-engine flying boats, hovering just out of range of the enemy antiaircraft guns, tracked the prey for five hours.When the distance from Task Force 58 narrowed to 250 miles, Vice Adm. Mitscher launched his planes; some 280 dive and torpedo bombers comprised the initial waves. Ensign Harry Jones, a native of Pittsburgh in an Avenger from Torpedo Squadron 17 aboard the carrier Hornet, recalled, “Scuttlebutt on the ship had it that the battleship admirals who outranked the air admirals wanted to shoot it out with the Japanese. But the Yamato’s guns were bigger than anything we had and the air admirals won out. We would intercept them.In Hot Pursuit Of a Big Fish“We took off from the Hornet, seven torpedo bombers plus fighters and dive bombers. The torpedo planes, which had search radar, did the navigation and it was a poor day for flying, rainy, misty, a lot of scud, not much ceiling. The flight leader from another carrier developed engine trouble and turned the lead over to our air group, bossed by Comdr. E.G. Konrad, a Naval Academy graduate.“The lead pilot said they ought to be in range, but we couldn’t see anything on radar. Konrad said stay on course. One plane radioed he saw a blip off to starboard about 50 miles out and we turned right. Then we saw them. Holy Mackerel! The Yamato looked like the Empire State Building plowing through the water. It was really big. We orbited around out of their gun range. They opened up with main batteries, 18-inch guns. What was surprising to us was that there were no Japanese aircraft around even though we were very near their home islands.”Unprotected Yamato Relies On Its Big GunsIn a fatal decision for the Yamato and its companions, the Imperial Navy had decided to reserve almost all available aircraft for kamikaze missions. Less than a half-dozen Japanese fighters appeared on the scene, and they were quickly overwhelmed. In its own defense, the Yamatopossessed awesome weapons. Extra guns had been added to an already prodigious array of antiaircraft firepower, six 6-inch secondary batteries, 24 5-inch antiaircraft guns, and 150 machine guns, along with all that the escorts could throw up. A special new shell equipped with a time fuse exploded into 6,000 deadly pieces. To ward off low-flying torpedo planes, the battleship’s big guns blasted giant waterspouts. But none of these defenses could deal with strikes by so many aircraft manned by skilled airmen.At 12:32, the Yamato had opened up on the approaching aircraft. According to Avenger pilot Harry Jones, “The air boss gave us the order of attack. He said, ‘Shasta,’ meaning those from the Hornetgo in first. Then he read off the order in which the planes from other carriers would attack. We didn’t have too much ceiling. I was at 12,000 feet at most and usually liked to start at 18,000 feet for a torpedo run, a steep approach and then right over the water, drop the torpedo and then get the hell out of there. Meanwhile, the bombers are supposed to be going down, so we all hit the ship simultaneously.”American Planes Draw BloodConfusion continues about who actually scored the initial hits. Some accounts report that bomb-laden Grumman F6F Hellcat fighters from the Hornet actually struck first, targeting the destroyers and the light cruiser Yahagi that formed a diamond shape surrounding the battleship. The fighter-bombers claimed two hits, and Lt. Cmdr. M.U. Beebe, the squadron honcho whose plane bore no bomb, zoomed in for a strafing run at the Yahagi. Hellcats from other ships also blasted the escorts. Their mission was to suppress and draw off fire, enabling the other attackers to zero in on the main target, Yamato.In the assault on the cruiser Yahagi and the destroyers, a swarm of Grumman Avengers, armed with torpedoes set to only a 12-foot depth, zeroed in on the smaller ships. Within a few minutes, the Yahagi lay dead in the water. Seven torpedoes and 12 bombs eventually devastated the cruiser. It foundered with only a handful of survivors left to tread water.Avenger pilot Lieutenant Robert L. Mini, separated from the others in his flight because of cloud cover, glimpsed a destroyer. He dropped his tin fish while dodging flak bursts. “Bingo!” an exultant gunner shouted over the intercom. Aviation Machinist’s Mate Third Class William A. Baker saw the Mark 13 torpedo slam into the tin can with a fiery explosion.Mini is credited with having blasted the destroyer Hamikaze. It sagged amidships, broke in two, and finally flashed its crimson underbody as it disappeared beneath the water. Three more of Yamato’s accompanying warships, battered beyond repair, were abandoned and scuttled. The surviving quartet of destroyers, all nursing serious wounds, would hang about long enough to pluck up some of those in the sea and flee to safety.Stunned But Not Out, Yamato Punches BackIt was not, however, a day at the seaside for the American Navy. Lieutenant Norman A. Weise, concentrating on his destroyer quarry, accidentally passed within range of the Yamato’s antiaircraft batteries. Shrapnel from 25mm shells burst in the vicinity of Weise’s Avenger just as he released his torpedo. Jagged shards of metal ripped through his windscreen and into the cockpit. One splinter dug into his scalp while gasoline from a ruptured fuel gauge sprayed his face, temporarily blinding him. Fragments from another shell wrecked the radio compartment, wounding his gunner. His rudder and vertical stabilizer absorbed two more hits. Weise managed to guide his crippled plane back to a safe landing on a carrier.Nine minutes after the opening salvo from the Yamato’s defenses, dive-bombers plunged down on the battleship at 400 knots per hour. A pair of thousand-pound bombs exploded near the mainmast, obliterating a radar room and a fire-control station. Avenger pilot Harry Jones recalled, “We spread out and I kept diving toward different puffs of smoke, where shells had already exploded. There shouldn’t be any damage there. There were two fighter planes in front of each of the torpedo planes. They were supposed to strafe the destroyers and probably draw some of the fire. I saw one of our replacement pilots in a plane take a direct hit and explode in the air. Down he went. I went down, dropped my torpedo and went right across the bow of Yamato. The ship was turning, but in our attack we always dropped in a fan shape so no matter which way a ship is turning, it is going to get hit. Our group was credited with two torpedo hits out of the seven planes, but the gun camera that showed my angle on the bow didn’t credit me with a hit.” From Jones’s VT-17, Lieutenant Thomas C. Durkin, the executive officer, actually registered the initial torpedo hit on the target.Torpedo Depth Recalibrated To Strike Yamato’s Weaker UnderbellyWhen the first tin fish exploded against the battleship’s hull, however, it did little damage. The squadron’s Mark 13 missiles had been set for 12 feet below the surface, striking the Yamato where the armor was thickest. One of the reasons Mini and those in his squadron settled on the more lightly shielded cruiser and the destroyers had been the knowledge of their vulnerability to even shallow-depth torpedoes. Aware of the problem, VT-84 from the carrier Bunker Hill reset its weapons to dive deeper into the water, bringing them home below the Yamato’s protective iron plates.Lieutenant Commander Chandler W. Swanson led VT-84 and instructed his people at the pre-takeoff briefing, “This squadron will attack the battleship and only in case of necessity will any pilot drop on any other target.” When they came within range of the Yamato, Swanson broke his 14 Avengers into two flights for an anvil-like approach. As they closed to drop their torpedoes, the Americans separated into groups of two and three, making a five-pronged assault.“Our Planes Were Crisscrossing Over the Target From All Directions.”Swanson reported, “As soon as we started diving from the overcast, they threw everything at us, including a barrage from the Yamato’s 16 [sic] inch guns. Puffs of purple, red, yellow and green flak blanketed the sky. It would have been beautiful if you didn’t know it was so deadly. Our planes were crisscrossing over the target from all directions. That was the most dangerous part of it. We had to keep from running into our own planes. There were so many of them and so little room to maneuver. It was surprising we had no collisions.”One plane, hit by fire from the battleship, suddenly nosed down and then blew up when it smashed into the ocean. Undaunted, the others, jinking now and then to throw off enemy gunners, a mere 500 feet above the water, homed in. From a distance of less than a mile, torpedoes flopped smoothly into the sea and then swiftly darted toward Yamato. The vessel swerved in a vain effort to avoid the onrushing Mark 13s. But at 1:37, an hour or so after the action began, three torpedoes blasted the port side, doing significant harm. Moments later, another pair hammered the stricken battlewagon on the same side. Lieutenant W.P. Popp said, “It looked like Old Faithful geyser erupting when the torpedoes hit the Yamato.”Death Blow DeliveredSeawater rushed into the gaping holes, and the ship began to list badly. Rear Admiral Ariga was forced to order flooding of the starboard-side engine and boiler rooms. A warning to sailors in these areas arrived too late, and several hundred men drowned at their posts. While the maneuver temporarily prevented the ship from capsizing, it slowed drastically with only a single screw still churning.For Lieutenant j.g. Jack Speidel from VT-29, assigned to the light carrier Cabot, this was his second crack at the Yamato, since he had been among the aviators whose swipes at the ship during the battle of Leyte Gulf failed to inflict serious damage. Now, in the East China Sea, he arrived on the scene after the first blows at the Japanese giant and her escorts. “When we took off for the Yamatoon April 7, we had one drop tank that gave us an extra hour of flying time. There was an overcast and one group never did find the Yamato. Everybody had to go through a single hole in that overcast, and there was so many planes it was incredible.“I remember colored bursts in front of us and splashes in the water from enemy ships. We came in on the port side, not real low. Others had probably already hit the ship. After we dropped the torpedo and turned away, my radioman was watching and he screamed, ‘We hit it! We hit it!’” The history of the Cabot claims Speidel’s tin fish struck “directly under the bridge, causing a terrific explosion.”Hiding From Japanese Ships In Freezing WatersA pilot from the light carrier Belleau Wood, Lieutenant j.g. W.E. Delaney, made his attack at 1,400 feet, dropping four 500-pounders. As his plane passed over the battleship, he said, “There was a loud explosion under the fuselage. The cockpit filled with smoke and fumes. One wing was on fire. I was afraid the plane would explode and ordered my crew [a gunner and radioman] to jump. They bailed out five miles southwest of the Jap task force. I watched their parachutes open, then I jumped.” Unfortunately, although Delaney saw their chutes deploy, both men apparently drowned.Delaney, after hitting the sea in the midst of the enemy vessels, managed to inflate his rubber raft. He stayed in the water, though, hanging onto the raft and hiding from the Japanese. A destroyer came within a hundred yards but veered off, apparently thinking there was no American survivor. “At first I was so cold,” said Delaney, “when the Jap can approached, I thought of giving up. But I decided they might shoot me. So I stayed behind the raft.”Patrol Planes Aided Rescue MissionThe pilots from the two Marine flying boats, Lieutenant James R. Young and Lieutenant j.g. Richard L. Simms, still on station, saw Delaney floating amid Japanese sailors who had abandoned their sinking ships and clung to bits of wreckage. While Simms acted as a decoy to draw off any fire from the remaining enemy vessels, Young set down his patrol plane, took Delaney aboard, and flew him to safety on Okinawa.According to Harry Jones, observation or scouting planes that ordinarily launched by catapult from the decks of battleships or cruisers had been ordered to tag along to perform rescues like the one that saved Delaney. “I remember a pilot from one of these came on the radio and said he was getting low on gas and was going to turn around. I heard what must have been a fighter pilot say, ‘If you turn around, you son of a bitch, I’m going to shoot you down.’”On board the Yamato, Sakae Katano, a 26-year-old sub-lieutenant with a duty to organize repairs from air raids, made a futile attempt to restore operations. “Telephones were not working any longer and the ship started to heel. I left one of my men behind and took the rest to do the repairs. But while we were running there, a torpedo hit the right side of the ship. I closed the hatch and came up again. Our personal belongings were floating in the water, which came up to our knees.Yamato’s Final Hours“The flag could no longer be seen and I thought nothing more could be done. I tried to go back to my men but found it impossible because of the water. I called my men; there were 18 of them and they came by. I ordered them to leave the ship, jump into the sea. They did not have enough courage to follow the order, so I jumped first. I say ‘jump’ but it was really a matter of sliding down the side of the ship. My men followed.”Ensign Mitsuru Yoshida reported, “The desolate decks were reduced to shambles. Big guns were inoperable because of the increasing list, and only a few machine guns were intact. One devastating blast in the emergency dispensary had killed all its occupants, including the medical officers and corpsmen.”The Yamato, considered a luxury ship by Japanese sailors ordinarily confined to fetid, spartan quarters, could only be described now as hell on water. Amid the continuing explosions of torpedoes and bombs, American planes methodically hosed the stricken ship with machine-gun fire. Steam from ruptured pipes scalded sailors; fire incinerated others; corpses and body parts littered the blood-soaked decks.The Skipper Bound In The BridgeIt was apparent to those in command that the Yamato was doomed. Amid the wreckage and bodies strewn about the bridge, Seiichi Ito, as task force commander, signaled the other ships to abort the mission. Those still afloat would try to pick up some of the men floundering in the water and then head for port. Ito saluted, shook hands with some other officers, then locked himself in his cabin. He would go down with the battleship.The Yamato’s skipper, Ariga, rather than permit hallowed portraits of the Emperor and Empress to suffer the indignities of capture, arranged for an officer to secure himself in a room with the artwork. Ariga then ordered a seaman to bind him to a binnacle on the bridge. There he chewed biscuits, awaiting his inevitable fate.In the bowels of the battleship, fire cooked off ammunition magazines, inducing shattering convulsions of the infrastructure. The subterranean blasts erupted through the steel decks into a 6,000-foot tongue of fire stretching into the sky. A four-mile pillar of smoke trailed the Yamato. At 2:23 in the afternoon, the great ship rolled over and sank, dragging down with it some 2,500 sailors. Only 269 survived.Role Of the Battleship In Naval Warfare Comes To a CloseSakae Katano recalled, “We kept swimming as a group for a while and saw the Yamato slide towards the ocean bottom. We gathered some lumber and made a raft, putting the injured men on it. By now there were only five or six of my men with me. I had a bad feeling for I knew there were sharks in the sea.“American planes came strafing but after a while they were gone. Japanese destroyers began to appear, so we tried to swim to get near them. Because of the tidal current we couldn’t. Finally, we gave up and fell asleep on the raft. Then I heard voices and, when I opened my eyes, I found the destroyer Ukikaze nearby. I swam near it and was expected to climb a rope ladder to the ship. I ordered a crewman on the destroyer to throw a rope down to me. I looped the rope around my waist and put one end in my mouth so my teeth could hold it while they pulled me up. My hands were too slippery to hold the rope and besides I was too exhausted.“After I was rescued, I went to see one of my men. I offered him a cigarette but he could not take it. He was completely armless and legless. He died while on the destroyer.”The hopeless excursion by the Japanese task force ended with as many as 3,750 of its crews dead. Mitscher counted 10 aircraft and 12 airmen lost. The last remnants of the once-powerful Imperial Japanese Navy had been vanquished, and the role of the battleship permanently eliminated.This article by Gerald Astor originally appeared on Warfare History Network.

August 21, 2019 at 12:13PM via IFTTT