#i just need someone to tell me why this show parses like it's fully missing episodes' worth of plot and character development.

[andessence]

so cruel to be stricken with blorbotions for a character in a mediocre source material. i love u ma'am but ur covered in bad writing grime!! idk if there's anything i can do for u....

[bigskydreaming]

I will forever squint suspiciously at a fandom that overall makes a bigger deal out of Dick Grayson expressing he didn’t want to replace his father when he was still young and actively grieving than they do Tim Drake literally hiring an actor to be his fake uncle and saying no to Bruce’s first actual offer of adoption.

Like, if you can get on board with Timothy Drake-Wayne after that, because Tim changed his mind after he was further along in his grieving process, you can get on board with the idea that at some point after the age of ten or twelve Dick similarly changed his mind about thinking a second father would be an insult to his first father’s memory.

*Shrugs* I just don’t get how hard some people go to bat for the idea that Dick never wanted or needed someone he viewed as an actual parent at any point after he was eight. Because you can’t deny that whatever Dick has said about that in the comics, he’s NEVER made it nearly AS big a deal as most fans who cite it at all do. Like, when you run with the most extreme extrapolation of that but gloss right over Tim’s far more extensive efforts to keep Jack Drake the sole father figure in his memory at first, I feel like something else is going on there.

(And I’m not trying to turn this into a Tim vs Dick thing, btw, I’m honestly just using Tim’s story there as a benchmark for how a clearly parallel sentiment is overwhelmingly referenced in regards to just one character but not another. My issues with the way people engage with this particular idea in regards to Dick like, exists without Tim being in the equation at all. That was simply an example of the fact that there IS a discrepancy.)

But point being, as all roads in this particular direction of thought almost always seem to lead to Dick being slotted into some nebulous category separating him from the rest of his siblings, where he’s only partially Bruce’s kid but not FULLY, not like the others....I am the Wary. 

Because whatever the surface intentions behind that, it almost inevitably voids some of Bruce’s responsibility to him as a parent, while at the same time making it easier to heap parental or caregiver style responsibilities for the others on Dick. If Dick’s more like Bruce than he is like his siblings in the overall family dynamic, this not only lessens the need to show him on the receiving end of Bruce being a parental figure, it simultaneously heightens the urge to make him a parental figure to the others to pick up Bruce’s slack there, because they’re more partners than they are father and son, see. So why wouldn’t Dick pick up Bruce’s slack and help him out there, and why would he need Bruce to actually be fulfilling that very role with him instead?

All the things people are critical of Bruce for in his parenting with Dick aren’t quite as bad, right, when Dick’s not fully his son or doesn’t quite view Bruce as his father....its easier to reframe it as fights between colleagues. Or recast Dick’s estrangement from Bruce as not actually a failure on Bruce’s part to reach out and cement exactly what Dick meant to him every time Dick flat out says “I want to know what I mean to you, give a name to it, give me an explanation for why you made these choices that isn’t that you don’t want me because all I see when I look at those choices is you expressing you don’t want me.” 

Because if Dick doesn’t actually want that explanation ever, if Dick doesn’t actually want that rock-solid expression of Bruce putting a name to what he feels for Dick and what he views him as, then the arguments between Bruce and Dick in his late teenage years DO become two-sided. Its just them butting heads back then. Rather than what they actually WERE in the comics, which was Dick clearly expressing insecurities about his place in Bruce’s life and Bruce repeatedly letting him leave or outright telling him to leave without actually giving it to him.

(I’m not even talking about NTT #55 for once, I’m actually talking about when Dick went to Gotham after he found out about Jason being Robin now. And as the events of that issue get referenced a TON in fandom, its HIGHLY suspect that one specific part of that issue gets rewritten in particular: where its acted like it was Dick that stormed off in a huff there or Dick who didn’t want anything more than to confront Bruce about Robin. It really doesn’t get addressed enough IMO that yes, Bruce said outright that he did it because he missed Dick....and then two panels later, Bruce literally asks Dick to go now. Says I would like you to leave now. Bruce is the one who blew up and lost his temper, literally smashing something while Dick was just heated because he was understandably upset, while Bruce somehow made it like he was the one being hurt by Dick and asking for space from him. Yeah, he said I miss you, but he never DID anything with that and in fact just turned around two seconds later and drove Dick away again, like Holy Mixed Signals, Batman! Y’know? Like what exactly was Dick supposed to do with that? “Oh, so Bruce misses me, but also he didn’t want me there, like I was literally RIGHT THERE for the first time in seventeen months and he missed me so much that....he didn’t even ask me to stay for dinner? Or call or reach out to me afterwards? So....my conclusion is.....what, exactly?”)

Ultimately though, my big beef with the stuff about adoption or Dick not wanting to replace his father, its not even about those specifically. Its about that period when Bruce very visibly was NOT in Dick’s life....and that was BY BRUCE’S CHOICE. That is the thing that needs addressing in my book, and far too often goes unresolved. No matter what the particulars of Dick’s views or wants re: adoption, there is literally no confusion about the existence of comics where Dick is repeatedly the one to reach out to Bruce, at a point in his life where he no longer had any legal ties to Bruce whatsoever.....and clearly express in one way or another that he is there and willing to talk, that in fact he WANTS to talk about why Bruce doesn’t seem to want HIM, specifically. 

It was Dick who brought up the issue of Bruce adopting Jason but not him and asked WHY at that one issue with them at a party. It was Dick who returned to Gotham and asked Bruce WHY he made Jason Robin when he hadn’t wanted Dick to be Robin - (and for the record, NO version of events where Bruce is the one to make Jason Robin aligns with Dick voluntarily giving up Robin.....the one and only continuity in which Dick did that, HE made the choice to pass Robin on to Jason. Mixing and matching continuities specifically to make Dick unable to claim hurt or resentment for the identity he crafted for himself being given away to someone else without his approval because ‘he was the one who said he didn’t want it anymore’ is yet again, suspect, as it serves absolutely no purpose other than to lessen the hurt done to him and abdicate Bruce’s culpability in hurting him when he did that). 

It was Dick who returned to Gotham after Jason died with no intention but to express his condolences and share their grief, and it was Dick who returned to Gotham to check on Bruce after Tim said he was worried he was going to get himself killed, as well as again more longterm in order to help with Tim’s training.

And in each and EVERY one of those situations.....it was Bruce that ended those encounters, and ALWAYS without ever offering Dick any actual resolution or change in their dynamic. Despite Dick’s very presence in each of these being a very clear sign that Dick was unhappy with their estrangement and wanted a change to it or else he wouldn’t even be there, he would be off being comfortably estranged somewhere else and totally content with that.

THAT’S the bigger issue and always has been, I think. That no matter how else you parse it, Dick repeatedly looked for and asked for reassurances, some kind of actual TIES to Bruce, and that Bruce for whatever personal reasons of his own, repeatedly did not give....even when Dick walked him right up to the perfect opportunity to just fucking say “I would like you to come home more, I want you here, I want you as part of my family even though you’ve already aged out of our existing legal bond.”

Bruce still just WOULD NOT SAY IT. Dick was very clear about needing and wanting something from Bruce that Bruce DID NOT GIVE HIM. Bruce gave him basically nothing to work with in these encounters more often than not. 

(In the interest of not being disingenuous here, I do admit that at the party when Dick asked Bruce why he’d adopted Jason and not him, Bruce did give a fairly touching response about how by the time he thought Dick would be open to it, he thought that Dick was too old to actually want or need it anymore. BUT, problem is, even with that it does absolutely nothing to change or address how the very fact that Dick was expressing insecurity about this now meant that Dick WASN’T actually too old to want or need it. It was literally a smack in the face that Bruce’s conclusion was wrong and not actually about Dick’s wants. And Bruce knew this, even referenced it at later points when he threw it back in Dick’s face to accuse Dick of resenting Bruce adopting Jason and not him.....which is a clear indication that Bruce knew it was something Dick still wanted or else there would be no reason for resentment, and THAT is the issue there. That no matter what Bruce said at that party about his reasons for not adopting Dick sooner, that very conversation itself should have been reason enough for Bruce to rethink his stance then there....but he didn’t. Also he ended up adopting Dick like five years later soooooo.....if he could do it then when Dick was even older, that doesn’t work as a barrier for him not doing it then.)

And that’s the troubling part.....how many people try and make that period of their lives unclear with no other visible purpose than to make the fact that Bruce WOULD NOT OUTRIGHT CEMENT DICK AS FAMILY OR ASK HIM TO STAY, like.....less problematic.

And as I’ve said before and will no doubt say again.......that logic process bugs the hell out of me, because it ultimately tries to claim the responsibility for Dick’s unhappiness in this regard back then is at least as much his fault as Bruce’s. That it was some kind of fight between equals, or that it was something Dick initiated or that Bruce had no power to resolve on his own via just his own choices or gestures.

Because it wasn’t! That’s not remotely what all of that was! And like I’m also always saying, you don’t HAVE to stick with the canon by any means. You can literally rewrite things so Bruce adopts Dick before he’s eighteen and they never HAVE that period, you can rewrite things so that Bruce reaches out and ends that period early on by DOING THE WORK of being the parent in that situation, you can ‘fix that’ by any number of means......yet over and over we see that period of estrangement repeatedly upheld as a thing that exists in the history that fics and headcanons reference having happened......but with the only ACTUAL change from the comics being that its framed as though it was just growing pains or Dick being stubborn or a dozen other things that somehow keep coming back to Dick doing something wrong there instead of repeatedly standing in front of Bruce asking for him to clarify their relationship and Bruce changing the subject or asking him to leave.

Again. THAT’S the problem.

You want Good Parent Bruce Wayne? Then WRITE Good Parent Bruce Wayne. Don’t just write Stubborn Teenaged Asshole Dick Grayson who btw doesn’t even really want Bruce to be his parent so there’s absolutely nothing Bruce could have done to bridge that gap back then anyway. 

(As that’s an equally critical part of the equation here as well. See, since Dick DID clearly express a want for a clear connection to Bruce back then, acting like Dick never really wanted a second father is a super convenient way to write over the part where Dick spelled out for Bruce how to bridge the divide between them and make things good again.....by demonstrating an actual WANT to have Dick in his family!)

But writing Stubborn Teenage Asshole Dick Grayson Who Did This To Himself.....that is something entirely different from writing Good Parent Bruce Wayne. You haven’t actually done or said anything with BRUCE’S character by just making Dick the fall guy for every conflict between them as though they were just equals all along and there was never any kind of actual parent child relationship or even a DESIRE for there to be a parent child relationship. Where the responsibility for being the PARENT like, lands on the....y’know. Parent.

And for the record, I don’t think this issue is confined just to this period of the comics, I think rather that its kinda the point of origin of a very large recurring problem in Dick’s conflicts with other people.

Because like I said, it was abundantly clear that Dick was expressing a want to be acknowledged as family, or just flat out acknowledged by Bruce at all, during this time. And if people can somehow make THAT period into just his fault.....then of course it should be no surprise that they can make any conflict he’s part of into his fault. Its a freaking blueprint for doing just that! 

And that’s exactly why this pattern recurs so damn often with EXACTLY the same fanon beats......whatever role the other character plays even in initiating a conflict is shifted onto Dick and somehow made into his own proactive choice and not something he’s actually reacting to. Thus Dick does double duty as both the CAUSE of the conflict and the resulting EFFECT - aka how he reacted to that thing that originally, he did not actually cause or initiate. While meanwhile, the other character not only gets off scot free bearing no actual culpability....no, now since DICK is the one making all the actual choices in the conflict from start to finish, now the other character is actually his VICTIM in it as well.

And that’s just.....so....blegh.

[lexosaurus]

Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

It was Lancer’s fault, really. 

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students  were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?” 

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it. 

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other. 

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?” 

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was. 

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted. 

Paulina’s eyes narrowed. 

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?” 

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?” 

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.” 

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic. 

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight. 

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast. 

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on. 

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered. 

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout. 

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again. 

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside. 

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at. 

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

[starswornoaths]

To Know Me

This might turn into an AU someday. idk. have Mermaid, the bonus day for wolmeric week, several days after wolmeric week ended, as is on brand of me

Thirty years ago, Ishgard plummeted into the sea. Everyone thought the inhabitants had died.

And then they sent a dignitary to honor the Eorzean Alliance...who also happens to be Serella’s childhood friend, whom she had not seen in decades.

word count: 2,705

Despite having nary a single memory in her childhood that didn’t have Aymeric in it, it was hard to stand at the princely dignitary’s side, after fifteen years, and not feel as though she beheld a complete stranger. For a surety, Serella could see the selfsame image of the mysterious boy by the river she had played with as a child in the visage of the man that now led her gently through the old roads that once led to Ishgard, half reclaimed by nature by now. And yet, even when pressed to explain what she had known about that very same boy, even at the time, she found all of her answers came up far short of satisfactory. Even to her. 

In many ways, especially to her.

He seemed to sense her inner turmoil; for all his secrecy in all the years she had known him, he had an almost preternatural sense for what was on her mind.

“Something weighs on you.” Aymeric noted softly. 

In spite of herself, Serella winced. “Many things weigh on me these days. Warrior of Light business, and all.”

“I could only begin to fathom. But that is not what I mean.”

Electing to study her over elaborating further, he canted his head to better peer into her eyes when she glanced away.

Agitation sparked in her chest. He used to do this when they were children, for gods’ sakes. When she would be upset for whatever childish thing had upset her during play, he would wait patiently, not looking away from her, until she finally felt like she were about to burst, and told him what was bothering her. It had always worked, back when she had nothing to worry about but why he was always so cold when he would come out to play with her and Uthengentle. 

 And again when she snapped her head back to remind him,“We’re not children anymore, you know.”

He seemed unphased, but nodded as if that had decided something for him. “Of course not,” he agreed, and turned his attention back to the road, as she did. “I only hope, in time, you might come to open up to me about—”

“You haven’t.” Serella cut him off before she could stop herself, adamantly not looking at him again.

The sound of his footfalls was always a little heavy— even as children, it felt like he never fully knew the strength of his own legs— so it was immediately obvious when he stopped walking. She stopped walking to turn toward him, and immediately regretted doing so when she saw the flash of pain that crossed his face.

“I have not been...as forthcoming as I might have—”

Ever the diplomat. Something about the tone his voice had taken; that same, cordial tone he had taken with the Alliance at their first meeting. It had that same cautious edge to it, like he were testing out a verbal minefield trying not to trip something that could blow up in his face. It needled at the newly agitated wound she had thought long healed: that for all she owed this man, for how he had saved her village when they were children, even as her dearest friend growing up, even then, he had been as a ghost. Haunting her, long after he had disappeared into the river by their house.

Through the frustration in the moment, an ugly truth pushed itself passed her teeth before she could bite down on it. 

“I thought you dead!” 

Whatever neutral expression Aymeric had been maintaining was gone— he watched her with wide eyes and parted lips, and though the expression might seem slight on anyone else, he looked downright shocked to her.

“You just— it was so sudden,” Serella said miserably, still focusing on the foliage-hemmed cliffs overlooking the sea. “Those animals would have destroyed my village, and gods know how many of us would have died in the process, but you...you spoke to them so strangely...almost like you were singing, and then they left! But—”

“I said I had wanted you to know me.” He supplied, his eyes clouded over in somber remembrance. “You were bleeding so badly— I—”

Swallowing thickly, she nodded hastily, and when he took a moment to clear his throat, she said, “I know. You just vanished into the river so quickly, and after...it was as if you were never there at all. I can’t fault you for needing to leave that day. I can’t even fault you for staying away for a while, but—but at least a letter, something to tell me you were alright— I mourned you for years—”

They had maintained a professional, respectable distance, from the moment that they had reunited at the Alliance meeting. Even after, her arm looped through his was as close as they had been. But when her voice cracked and her vision blurred, Aymeric forewent any reservation he might have had and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his arms around her. His hand passed over her hair in wide, warm strokes. “I didn’t...I thought I would not be missed—”

We’re not so different in height, Serella distantly realized when she rested her chin on his shoulder, leaned her head into his neck, and held him just as tightly.

“Ma still asks about you, you know. If I see you in my travels.” Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions— elation warring with irritation, joy clashing with sorrow— she squeezed him back. “You sweet fool, of course you were missed. Are missed. Even if I don’t entirely know who it is I’m missing.”

“You know me.” He said, pulling back suddenly. His palms were as wide as she thought they were, she realized, when he gently cupped her face in them. He implored her, “You always knew me. The only thing I ever hid from you was my home—”

“Only.” 

“I...point taken.” The wild, pleading look in his eyes eased into a wincing smile. “Even were I to tell you, I doubt you would believe me, after all this time.”

“I would try to.” She admitted.

The laugh Aymeric gave as he let go of her felt more like a sigh of resignation. She tried not to think on it, instead pondering why he was beginning to wander closer to the cliff’s edge. 

“When we were young, I never told you of my origin for fear of someone finding out through you that could hurt me.” He said, half to her and half to the sea. Committing his focus to her, he admitted, “Even before now, I hesitated for fear of othering. So I have only three questions, if you would indulge me.”

At her assent, his expression eased into relief. “I thank you. Firstly: if I showed you the truth, would you trust what your eyes see?”

“Of course.” Serella replied, still not sure where this conversation was going.

Something like dread, but not quite so heavy, pulled her stomach down slowly toward the floor, the longer she continued to watch the way he had to lean into the wind, now gusting so loudly she had to step closer to hear his next questions.

“Am I still your friend?” He asked, and that reservation had returned in his gaze.

As if that were ever in doubt. “You’ve always been my friend. It’s as I said when we first reunited: of course I want to know you.”

Even when she was close enough to hear him clearly over the wind, Serella continued her advance, drawn in by the way he beamed at her like the sun at the end of a storm.

“Thank you,” he whispered when she had at last came to his side.

“...You had a third question…?” She gently reminded him when she realized she had been staring at the way his hair caught in the breeze and he had still not said anything.

Aymeric seemed to start at that, but when his eyes refocused on her questioning gaze, he gave her a smile so boyish she was reminded of the few times he had ever pranked her when they were young.

“How’s your swimming, after all these years?” He asked.

A question she was not anticipating. Flustered, she blurted out, “As a fish.”

Aymeric snorted. If she didn’t know better, it was almost derisively.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you!” He harrumphed—

—before leaping off the sheer cliff.

For having had no running start, Serella was momentarily shocked by the distance he got out of his jump— before the rest of her brain caught up with her and she realized what he had just done. It had only been a second’s delay, all told, but it was just long enough for her to miss when she lunged for his hand.

She’d overshot the effort she put behind that lurch; the sudden shift of her weight forward made her stumble those few crucial steps between her and the cliff face, and momentum promptly vaulted her over the side.

The fall was less a concern for her; she had done deep fishing further south off of this coast before. It was the sheer rock wall and the lack of a pulley team to get them out that worried her most as she flipped in freefall to push herself further away from the cliff face once she’d accepted she’d fallen too far to recover without injury. Climbing with Aymeric on her back, worst case scenario, was hardly a situation to look forward to, but in that moment, all she cared about was getting to Aymeric first, to save him from drowning, if that was what it came to. She could worry about the particulars of why he would jump off of a fucking cliff: she thought she heard him crashing through the sea’s surface. She had to be quick. 

Balance righted, she crossed her arms over her chest tightly to protect herself as best she could from the fall, and cast Sentinel upon herself before taking the deepest breath she could manage. The blur of blue and slate made her nauseated. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to mentally parse how far she had plummeted so far. The fall felt like it took eons, but still, she clenched her muscles as tightly as she could the whole way down. 

The impact of the water’s surface still surprised her, but she was glad to keep most of the air she had taken in— and that the water was deep enough where she landed that she was not promptly dashed into the rocks.

“Trust your eyes, and open them, Ellie.” Aymeric said— 

��Said? 

“Look at me.” He pleaded, almost urgently.

Serella’s eyes opened before she had consciously thought of doing so, and even when she furiously blinked away the blur, she found she could not quite comprehend the sight before her.

For before her, was her friend Aymeric, his eyes glimmering like the babbling brooks near Elmvale now with slitted pupils, watched her keenly from beneath inky hair wisping about his head as though he were painted into the sea itself, nearly the same as she had come to know him as...save for the long, broad tail that flared out from his hip bones. It coiled behind him once, almost coquettishly, almost shy of her, even as he drifted close. 

He was reaching for her— and it drew attention to the claws at his fingertips, dark and edged with the same deep blue scales that adorned his tail. They fringed his ears, now flared out at the tips in fins, and highlighted his cheekbones, coated the entirety of his throat like armor. When his full lips parted again, she saw that his teeth had sharpened to blade-sharp points—

His hands were still soft. Still his.

The realization pierced her thoughts when he held her face in his hands again. For all the scales and claws, they still felt like him. Something in that revelation quieted her racing mind. In a flash, those new features settled over her friend’s features.

At last, she knew him.

“Trust me?” He asked— and at her nod, kissed her deep enough her tongue ran along those sharpened teeth.

Logically, Serella should feel cold. She should worry about that tingling feeling in her chest, effervescent and fizzing it’s way up her throat, into her mind, bubbling like a sparkling champagne. But all she could think of was how his face felt beneath her hands when she mirrored his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Even with the scales, they were smooth, and a rumble left him when she tested their texture beneath her thumbs, further distracting her.

She should also probably ponder how she was being pressed flush to him, when their hands were still very much on each other’s faces, but then her lungs were burning. Then, she gasped while still being underwater, and she had a whole new list of question that all started with:

“How—?” She sputtered, more baffled still that she could.

The tenderness with which he handled her did not abate, though that boyish smile returned— wide enough that it crinkled the corners of his eyes in an endearing way. His eyes gleamed like the sunset on the sea.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Aymeric said.

When she opened her mouth to ask why— and the more she was consciously noticing she was actively breathing underwater, the stranger it felt— that grin widened to flash those pointed teeth again. He lightly squished the pads of his thumbs by the corners of her mouth, once. “‘Tis as you said: a fish.”

When she squirmed and started to sink out of his tender grip, she was lifted back into his chest to be held— ah, that tail of his was loosely curled about her thighs, the tapered end near his fins pressing gently into the space between her shoulder blades to adjust her in the waters.

“I only gave you the blessing of water— it permits you breathe water as though it were air.” He explained gently.

She hadn’t been worried about that, not really. Or rather— she hadn’t necessarily thought to, but it was reassuring all the same.

Still, she couldn’t help a chuckle— underwater! May that never lose its novelty!— as she repeated, “Only,” before closing the distance again.

“Ah—” He gasped against her mouth, after a few more moments of drowning in her. “Much as I have dreamt of this…’tis high time I showed you my home.”

Before she could ask what he truly meant— really, what did she even know of the world anymore, after this, Aymeric rearranged her in the gentle embrace of arms and tail alike to gesture with a sweep of his hand to the depth below them. 

At first, Serella could only follow the aim of his outstretched hand, down to the glowing dome jutting out from the seabed. It glittered as a star among the deep blue undercurrents, unmoving. Letting her eyes adjust, she couldn’t help but gasp when she realized what she was looking at.

When Ishgard first sank into the depths, seemingly vanishing overnight, there had been searches, initially. Cursory as they had been at the time, with the threat of the Garlean empire looming and the Calamity that followed not long after, by the time anyone had thought to check any deeper on Ishgard’s fate beyond what the local populace that hadn’t been in the city when it fell had told them, there was little left in resources to properly search. And so, it had fallen into some level of notoriety, almost legend, even only thirty years after its fall.

As a child, she had only seen the very tips of the tallest towers of Coerthas’ city-state from through the treeline, or artful depictions of a dreamlike castle painted in books. It had always looked impossible to her, even so young; a castle, pristine and glittering as a fairytale, somewhere in the real world? Preposterous. And yet...looking at the towering spires, winding, sprialing walkways, and brilliant stonework of that impossible citadel encased in the shield, she knew it at a glance.

Ishgard.

[thefirstknife]

I have to hard disagree on the idea that old story content isn't relevant anymore. The story is an on-going tale, and what came before is the foundation that sets the stage for what happens now and what will come. If it was really irrelevant then there be zero point in creating those stories in the first place because they'd be pointless filler. Just because it's not currently being referenced all the time doesn't make it irrelevant. It has always been the biggest flaw of the series to have lack of accessibility for the stories in older content. This is particularly ridiculous for a game that is so lore dense like this series. But I've always been firmly of the opinion that if you require people to go to third party services, pay attention to social media posts, watch panels at cons, etc. in order to fully understand your story then you have failed, hard, at telling a coherent story. Makes me sad because I've loved the story since the start and how expansive it is. Sadly new players simply will never be able to appreciate that without spending hours outside the game researching it. Hell, existing players have to do that sometimes and that's just Not Great.

I agree that Bungie should do better with story delivery. It's something they've struggled with since the start though, so I don't really understand how someone could've loved it since the start when it was objectively even worse.

Story delivery only improved with time. We started with grimoires literally not even being in the game and important lore about characters existing online separately. Not much changed in D2 until they added the lore section and lore books in game. And further improvements were necessary to make the game's story accessible while playing missions and quests. All of this significantly improved in year 4.

Year 4 has been widely regarded as the best one yet for story and lore delivery. And I agree. I also agree that there can be more improvements. For example, weblore should be announced in-game because it's tied to the website so many people will go into the game not knowing it was released. It was a huge issue with Immolant where people didn't read it before hopping into Season of the Hunt and heard "Sagira died" in a voice line, instead of reading the huge weblore drop that continues to be the most important lore piece for entire year 4 and beyond.

Of course every piece of the story is relevant in the grand scheme of things. Red War is still frequently mentioned, Uldren's story was important for Crow, and so on. However, what I meant was that having to play through the entire thing and personally hunt down the Barons and shoot Uldren is not something that one has to go through in order to understand Witch Queen. With that I'm referring only to the players who legitimately never touched Destiny until WQ. Everyone else had three years to get through Forsaken and will have an additional assistance to get through it for free in December, if paying was something they couldn't do before.

I genuinely don't know who else is missing out, except people who never heard of Destiny before WQ and will buy that as their first Destiny experience. But in that case, they can read the lore books that detail Forsaken if they're interested in extra stories. A completely new player will not need Forsaken or Red War because they're not going to understand those either without the full context. At that point we're talking about how everyone has to start playing with D1 which is impossible.

As you said, the lore is very expansive and very dense. It's hard to parse through. It's the seventh year of Destiny as a franchise and people tuning in now can't expect the game to explain everything form the beginning. That's why the community is here. I don't think that's a failure in the narrative in the same way I don't think a TV show in its seventh season should recap every event from the previous seasons before starting season seven. At some point, recaps are impossible to do without taking a significant amount of time. If you decide to tune in late, it's on you to update yourself.

I tuned in late into Destiny, as I didn't play D1 because I don't have a console. D2 didn't explain shit about D1. And as frustrating as it was, I couldn't really expect the game to recap the previous three years of storytelling. They should've done something, for sure, since they came to PC for the first time, but I also understand that recapping three years of D1 would've been fairly difficult, especially if you wanted the full lore experience that includes ancient history like the Books of Sorrow.

Destiny's storytelling is infinitely better now. There's always room for improvement, of course. But people also have to understand that this is a huge ongoing story that's been going on for almost a decade. Having external sources explain past events does not mean the storytelling is bad. On the contrary, it would be quite obtuse and annoying to have detailed recaps at the start of every season and expansion. And yes, even existing players and veterans have to consult the lore archives outside of the game. I'm not sure what should be the alternative. D1 is not even available on PC, so I can't personally play and collect every grimoire. I also can't hold everything in my brain and quote it verbatim. Fan created encyclopedias and archives are not exclusive to Destiny.

I'm in favour of better accessibility so I do hope Bungie keeps improving on that front. But a part of accessibility is also the community. Destiny is not unique in this. Most long lasting and ongoing media utilises the community to help newcomers understand, especially if the original media is no longer available (try finding original Doctor Who episodes, it's nigh impossible) or is entirely inaccessible to people (games like the first Witcher come to mind: that game is mechanically incredibly outdated and more or less impossible for many to play through. I did it, but at what cost).

There's a lot to be said about the preservation of media and especially digital media, but that's a whole different topic. For now, our best bet is preservation through recorded footage, let's plays and streams. Servers can't last forever, games are routinely shut down and content is removed due to being old or glitchy or literally making the game unplayable. Currently I would prefer Destiny to keep going in the direction it's going now, with overwhelming praise for the way it handles ongoing storylines and lore, to keep being more stable and to work well, instead of clinging to old content nobody is playing for the sake of keeping it there.

And again, if Bungie had the option to keep everything in and keep the game running smoothly, I am sure they would've done that. But game development is not that easy. Old code is old code. It makes the whole game unstable and impossible to update on time and fix quickly. I would rather Witch Queen running as well as Beyond Light did overall, with space to develop new stories, missions and quests.

[skybiome]

And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 5

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3

tw: none

Techno and Phil worked together over the next few days to clean and preserve all of the venison. Phil seemed to have more experience with this, so Techno followed his lead. Techno was cutting the remaining meat from the bones and while Phil started a fire in their impromptu smoking pit. The skin has all been removed in the days prior.

Between just the two of them, a fair amount of the meat would go to waste, so they had to work quickly to preserve it. Inside, the hearth was burning low and drying thin cut pieces into jerky.  

The temperature outside had been dropping over the days since their hunt. Phil had given Techno a winter coat from somewhere. Lined with some sort of soft animal fur, Techno barely noticed the cold.

Techno walked over to where his companion was poking at the smoking wood chips.

“Phil.”

“Hm?” The winged god looked up at him.

Techno fisted his hands in the pockets of the coat to keep himself from fidgeting. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Phil’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “Oh, alright then.” He didn’t sound upset. “We’ll finish this today then, and we can make you a good meal tonight before you hit the road.”

Techno nodded and walked away without another word. The anxious energy under his skin didn’t settle Phil’s acknowledgement. The feeling of being tethering to something was insurmountably foreign. He couldn't wait to get away from Phil, but at the same time, he would miss the man deeply. It had been millenia since Techno had let himself get this close to someone.

Better to drain the wound now than let it sit and fester.

But that would be an issue for tomorrow Techno.

He got to work harvesting the garden they’d planted a few days ago, washing the dirt off the produce in the stone-bottomed brook. Once the meat was settled to preserve both inside and out of the inn, Phil disappeared to somewhere. Techno assumed he’d be back before long.

So he did that hard work first, using a shovel Phil had provided to dig up the root vegetables out of the cold ground. He also gathered other fruits and vegetables from the trellises. Once that was done, he picked them up and set them on one of the tables inside the inn.

And then he didn’t know what to do.

Techno had never had free time. He was always preoccupied with keeping on the move or hunting down the next monster he’d taken a bounty on. Even here, Phil normally had a task for him to do. Whenever all the chores for the day were over, it was already night time. Not knowing what else to do, Techno started running laps around the inn, falling into the steady rhythm of the motions.

After a few laps he expanded his loop to include the other buildings surrounding the central well. And then to just running around all of the structures in the village. Never once did he see another person or even any lights on. Just perfectly tended gardens, even in the almost freezing weather.  

Eventually, the monster hunter slowed down and approached one of the still houses. He knocked on the back door. No response. He tried the handle, and Techno was a little surprised when it opened with no resistance.

Inside sat a picturesque little home. Well made cupboards and countertops were spotless. An unlit tallow candle sat in the middle of a table. Techno took a closer look, and saw that the wick was pristine. It had never been lit. The table surface was unmarred, not showing any signs of being used as a board for cutting food or even any marks of a child playing with their first dagger.

Techno left, and checked the next house. And the next. And the next.

Every house was empty. Each one had a slightly different layout, but it was always unmarked countertops and empty cupboards. He doubted that these houses had ever been lived in. They were just part of the setting of the fictional town Phil had created.

He stopped checking the houses and went back to running circles around the empty village, leaving him along with his thoughts.

Phil didn’t seem malicious. Over the two weeks he’d known the deity, he’d never shown any ill intent. The outburst during the hunt was the first time he’d heard Phil even raise his voice. The god wasn’t gaining anything from spending time with Techno, but he also wasn’t trying to get anything out of the interaction. The cursed man couldn’t figure out what the god’s game was.

He was pulled out of his own head by the sound of Phil yelling his name. Cutting through the dirt paths, Techno made a bee-line towards the inn. Phil was standing outside the building, hands cupped around his mouth trying to project his voice. His wings were fluffed up and slightly spread slightly, like he was anxious and ready to take off at a moment’s notice. His voice was laced with worry.

Once he saw the monster hunter approaching, his wings laid flat and folded nearly behind his back. The line of tension eased out of his shoulders and the slightly frantic expression eased from his face.

“There you are.”

The ‘where’d you go?’ was left unspoken.

Techno nodded, and put his hands in the pockets of his new coat. “You left and I got bored, so I went on a run.” Techno one hand out and made a circular motion in the air, gesturing at the town around them. “Just around the outside of the village.”

Phil nodded, “Alright, I was worried that you had left.”

Techno shrugged. “I don’t know if I can leave, Wilbur may be keeping me here.”

The winged man stiffened slightly at the wandering implication of Techno’s words. He tried to brush it off, and replied, “I don’t think so, I’m fairly certain you can leave whenever you want.”

So he could leave right now if he wanted to. Phil would protest, but he wouldn’t be able to stop the monster hunter. Techno filed that away for later. Then he walked past Phil and turned the handle of the inn door. Holding the entrance open, he looked back at his friend, and asked, “You coming?”

When Phil didn’t spring into action, he added, “I don’t know how to cook, so I hope you do.”

With that, Techno turned away from Phil and walked farther into the building, leaving the door open behind him. A smile stumbled onto the god’s face. He walked inside and closed the door behind him, accepting Techno’s unspoken ask for help.

---

In the monster hunter’s humble opinion, Phil was a pretty good cook. The finished jerky and smoked meat was stored in cloth bags that Phil had pulled from somewhere, and the rest of the deer was slowly being cooked over the lower fire. Techno had been eating well for the last few weeks and he couldn’t wait to dig in when it was ready.

The cursed man had been put in charge with the rest of the meal preparation (with Phil helping if he needed it). Several spuds were slowly cooking in a pan off to the side of the stone hearth along with several herbs Phil had thrown in.

A few other additions that wouldn’t take as long to cook rested on the countertop. Some apples and nuts to be roasted, and mixed vegetables that could be cooked in oil. A loaf of bread was rising on the other side of the warm kitchen.

It was more food than Techno had seen in a long time, and definitely more than he and Phil could eat before it goes bad.

“What are we going to do with all this?” The man motioned to consumables strewn about the room.

“Hm?” Phil looked up from the book he was reading. He tilted his head to the side, asking for Techno to elaborate.

“There’s no way we can eat this all before it goes bad.”

The winged man nodded, and closed his book so he could fully focus on his companion, keeping one finger in the page he was on. “I invited some friends to help finish off the food. That’s where I was earlier” Techno opened his mouth to say something, but Phil kept talking. “They’re coming over later tonight, after you’d normally be asleep, so you don’t have to interact with them if you don’t want to.”

Techno nodded. He didn’t quite know how to feel about Phil picking up on his social anxiety that easily, but the gesture was kind enough.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. It was the first day since Techno had arrived that he wasn’t doing anything from dawn to dusk. It didn’t seem like Phil was speeding up the day too much. Techno could actually track the motion of the sun via the sparse rays coming through the canopy and windows. It was nice.

He’d been reading a book the winged god had given him out in the main room. The god in question had pulled him back into the kitchen with the setting of the sun. Together, they finished preparing the rest of the food and assembled a feast in the main room of the inn.

All of the food he’d eaten over the past few weeks had been amazing. This was the best so far. He didn’t manage to eat much, appetite soured by the fact that he’d promised himself he would leave tomorrow.

About the time he started to slow down, Phil glanced towards the door of the inn, and announced, “Our guests will probably be here soon. They’re kinda loud, so you can go to your room if you want. I’ll make sure they leave you alone.”

Techno nodded and slid off of the stool, taking it as Phil’s polite way of telling him to scram. He took the book Phil’d given with him, though. And true to his friend’s word, around ten minutes later, several voices entered the inn. Through the walls, Techno couldn’t parse them well enough to tell how many people there were. At least six, mostly likely more. One of them sounded like Wilbur.

Yeah, Techno wasn’t going back out there. Accepting his fate for the night, the monster hunter stripped off his outer layer of clothes and climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and let sleep easily take him.

Half an hour later, he threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He couldn’t sleep and Techno had no idea why. The people in the inn weren’t being too loud. He could barely hear them despite the thin walls of the inn. Phil’s laughter made it into his room occasionally, and Techno felt something in his gut curl every time he heard it.  He wasn’t looking forward to having to leave in the morning.

A thought lanced through the monster hunter’s head. He didn’t have to leave in the morning. There was a window in his room. Techno could leave right now, without having to face Phil. Before he knew it, his heavy coat was back on, and his window was open.

The cold wind stole the man’s breath, making Techno take pause. But only for a moment.

He hefted himself up and out of the window sill. He didn’t want to look Phil in the eyes before leaving, so clearly the solution was to avoid Phil altogether.

Frozen grass crunched under his boots. Techno hadn’t noticed that it was snowing, but a thin layer of white coated the ground. Blades of grass and leaves were poking up through the powder.

He walked around the exterior of the building until he was standing in front of the inn. Through the windows, Techno could see about a dozen people socializing. The inn looked alive for the very first time.

Turning on his heel, Techno marched away from the illuminated structure. He'd seen a road leading out of town while running earlier. That's probably the road he's supposed was supposed to go. The monster hunter took a few steps past the wall in the direction of the road out of town. Then he reversed his path and went down the dirt path that had first brought him into town.

It was well into the night when he arrived back at the statue that had first greeted him. Techno's eyes pick up the details of the sculpture with no problems, even in the low light. There was no mistaking it. The facial features of the statue may be missing, but it still was the exact height and build as the man he'd been living with for the last three weeks.

Techno ran his hand over the bottom of the statue, clearing the snow and knowing that a plaque was hidden underneath. He pulled his hand away, and felt something stutter in his chest.

The words were different.

PHILZA, GOD OF SURVIVAL AND SOLITUDE PATRON OF THE ENDANGERED AND LONESOME PROTECTOR OF HIS FAMILY AND THE ONES HE LOVES

Something sad curled in his chest at the confirmation that Phil was really a god. It almost felt like a betrayal, enough though he knew it was coming.

Techno lowered himself onto the snowy ground. He closed his eyes. His fingers dug into his pants as the snow melted and the cold water bit into his legs. Eventually the chill made its way through his heavy coat.

Techno only opened his eyes when he could see light through the closed lids. Sunlight danced across the icy ground, shooting daggers into the cursed man’s eyes. He stumbled to his feet, shaking the gathered snow from his hood and shoulders. A good few inches, too.

The statue and it's broken pieces were also dusted with snow. No more grass was poking up through drifts. Techno turned around to look at the trail that had brought him here. The footpath was buried under the snow. For a moment, he didn’t know how he was going to find his way back to the village.

Something moved into Techno’s line of sight, and it took him a moment to register what it was. The white wolf blended into the powder almost perfectly. It blinked at Techno, then turned and trotted away. The cursed man followed.

The canine kept a steady pace in front of Techno. Occasionally, its fur camouflages it perfectly, and it would disappear from Techno’s sight. He was, eventually, less following the wolf, and more following the footprints it left behind.

After a while, the wolf stopped and sat down, pointing its nose at something. Techno shook his head and let his eyes refocus. The wolf glanced at him. When Techno met its eyes, it turned its attention back to the building in front of them.

A sign over the door, proudly read  The Core Inn . Unlike every other time Techno had seen the building, not a single light was on inside. He turned away to look at the other buildings. Besides Techno and the wolf’s foot prints, the snow cover was pristine. Taking a moment to realign his internal compass, he headed towards the road that led out of town.

Three steps into the journey, a weight pressed against his side. Techno stumbled at the pressure, but caught himself, realizing that the wolf that had been leading him, was now walking alongside him. Hesitantly, he set his hand on the animal’s head.

The wolf pushed against Techno’s hand, and pressed harder into the man’s side. Techno took that as permission and shoved his hand through the wolf’s fur and into the warm undercoat. He may be impervious to frostbite, but cold was still cold.

He started walking again, carding his hand through the canine’s fur. It was nice to have something else grounding him in the blank surroundings. In the real world, Techno would normally have bird song or even just the wind in the trees to fill his ears. Over the weeks, Phil had become the background noise, either with his voice or the motion of his clothes.

The snow crunched softly under foot as they traveled. The massive trees thinned from towering conifers to rolling woods of deciduous. What immediately caught Techno’s attention was that the wind was back. Birds and animal tracks were numerous, criss-crossing the snowy landscape. When they stumbled upon a crossroads, Techno took note of the messy wagon tracks in the resting snow.

Compared to the premade tracks that had covered the ground in the village, these looked incredibly natural. A sign post sat across the road. Techno approached and read it, wolf still glued to his side. A place named Aria was to the left, and Mount Lacerta was to the right. It didn’t mention the path he’d arrived from.

Techno turned around. His footsteps and any indication that he’d followed a premade path to his current location was gone. He turned back around, and the sign post had vanished as well.

“Huh,” Techno said. He turned to look at his furry companion. “Where do you think we should go?”

The wolf blinked, and started walking towards the left. Techno followed. After a few steps, the canine stopped and looked back at the man. He stopped as well, waiting for the wolf to continue leading. The animal looked back at Techno and whined.

When Techno didn’t move, the wolf turned around. It walked until it was once again glued to his side. Pushing against the monster hunter’s leg, the canine took a step. It looked up at Techno, and took another step forward.

Techno got the message. They walked alongside each other for hours, basking in the cold beauty.

Eventually, the wolf’s steps stuttered for a moment. Then it took off like a shot.

The cursed man watched it’s white coat shrink into the distance, content that it was leaving him. To Techno’s surprise, the wolf stopped about thirty feet away. The canine spun in a circle in the snow. Then it planted its rear end in the snow and let out a piercing howl.

The cry scared birds out of the surrounding trees. The wolf lowered its head, and although it was too far away to hear the panting, Techno could see its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Something bubbled in his throat. He was surprised when a barking laugh escaped. His chest felt warm despite the cold. Another laugh emitted from Techno as he sprinted after the animal. The wolf let out another howl, turned, and ran from the man, egging him to chase.

Techno did so willingly. He almost couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this elated. Snow clung to his feet, but the monster hunter didn’t notice. Instead, he looked up to the cloud coated sky and let loose his own howl. The wolf up ahead returned the call.

Back and forth, the two echoed as they ran. Sometimes it was a whoop or holler from Techno, and a bark or yip from the canine. As they ran, the energy they carried only grew, until they were both high on euphoria.

Before he knew it, the snow was gone from around Techno’s feet. The wolf led him down the hard packed dirt road for hours at a sprint. It was nearly sun down when the animal broke from the path. It veered into the trees to the left of the road. Techno followed with zero hesitation.

A small campsite was set up just out of sight of the road. Techno came to a halt by the edge. It was a tent with a small circle of stones set up next to it. The wolf was looking around, tapping its feet and whining slightly.

A stick snapped in the trees. Both Techno and the wolf’s heads snapped towards the sound. In an instant, the canine had dove through the bush between them and the source of the noise.

The cursed man heard the sound of someone yelling in surprise and being knocked to the ground. Techno pushed through the brush to follow. He found the wolf practically laying on top of someone, licking at his face. His green and white bucket hat had been knocked to the floor and large black wings moved in the dirt and plant cover as Philza tried to shove the canine off his chest.

The god managed to roll onto his side, pushing the animal off him. Sitting upright, he ran his hands through its thick coat, cooing and praising it.

“Gods, you’re such a good boy.” Philza said through laughter. “Thank you for leading him here.”

The wolf licked his face one more time before settling its head on the god’s lap.

Turning his attention to Techno, Philza smiled, and explained, “I sent him to come get you.” He ran his head between the ears on the wolf. “It’s hard to navigate in the snow, and I didn’t want you to get lost.”

He chucked. “I know you’d be okay, but it was just for my own peace of mind.”

Techno swallowed dryly. He couldn’t think of anything, so he just nodded.

Philza stood up, pushing the animal off his lap, and brushed off the front of his robe. He was covered in bits of dead leaves and small sticks were on the ground around him. The god leaned over, picked back up the pieces of tinder he’d dropped.

With his arms full of dry material, the winged deity turned to Techno. He jerked his head towards the campsite, motioning for the cursed man to come with him. They maneuvered back through the hedge. The wolf seemed elated, dancing around their legs and nearly tripping them several times. Philza chuckled at its antics. He set his gatherings down beside the unlit fire pit.

The god lowered himself onto the hard ground with a sigh, wings half unfurled behind him to keep the feathers from bending on the ground. Techno hesitated for a second, and then sat beside him. The wolf did its best to lay on top of both of them, head in Philza’s lap and back end on Techno. Its white tail was slowly turning brown from thumping against the ground.

Philza laughed again. “Get off me you big lug.” He pushed the animal off his lap again. “Go cuddle Techno, I need to start the fire.”

The wolf whined, but sulked over and dropped its head into Techno’s lap. Despite its grumpy demeanor, its tail was still thumping against the dirt.

The god gave the canine a fond look. He pulled a flint and steel out of his robe, and started on the process of lighting a flame.

Techno knew how to start a fire with flint and steel, but he hadn’t done it in decades. Normally he just ate food cold or didn’t eat at all.

The entire scene was almost too domestic for Techno. Something curled in his gut as the sparks illuminated Philza’s hands and face. The sun had dipped below the tree line and the golden light made Techno yearn for the slow and warm days in the inn.

He ran his fingers through the wolf’s fur in order to do something with his hands. After a few dozen attempts, a small flame started in the god’s cupped hands. Slowly, he added pieces of tinder until it was strong enough to survive on its own. He put a few bigger pieces of wood on top of the fire for it to destroy when it grew big enough.

Philza turned his attention back to Techno. “Do you want something to eat? You didn’t take any when you left.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, but Techno still felt like he was being scolded for something. He nodded, saying, “Sure, I can eat.”

The god nodded. Leaning over, Philza stuck his head inside of the tent. A second later, he emerged with a bag in hand. He rooted around inside for a moment. He pulled out the cloth bag that they’d put the smoked meat inside of yesterday.

He handed it to Techno, saying, “here.” The cursed man extracted a hand from where it had been scratching the wolf’s ear to grab the sack. The canine lifted its head to sniff at the bag. Techno thought it was going to try and take it, but it lowered its head back onto his lap without protest.

Philza pulled one more thing out of the bag before setting it aside. He unwrapped the remaining pieces of the bread loaf they’d made two days ago. The god must have hid it from his guests, otherwise it would be gone by now. He set the clothes it had been wrapped in over the bag, and tore two pieces off the loaf. Philza wrapped the rest of the bread back up and set it in bag.

Techno followed the deity’s example. He pulled a few pieces of jerky out of the bag, and handed them to his companion. The cursed man offered a bit to the wolf. It sniffed the meat for a moment, but laid its head back against the man’s chest. Techno shrugged, but closed the sack up and handed it to Philza, exchanging it for one of the pieces of bread.

They warmed their meals against the steadily growing fire. By the time they were finished eating, the sun had fully set. The wolf was dozing in Techno’s lap, and he was half convinced to join it. He was emotionally drained from the excitement of running, and from his running anxieties about Philza being upset that he’d left in the middle of the night. The god had hardly mentioned Techno’s flight at all, only expressing seemingly mild disappointment that Techno hadn’t taken food with him.

Techno shook his head, seemingly shaking his brain back into working order. He cautiously worked his way out from under the predator on his lap and stood up. Philza’s eyes followed him.

“I think I’m gonna go now. I’ve wasted enough time.”

Techno started towards the road, mentally promising that he wouldn’t stop walking, no matter what Philza said to stop him.

“You could stay here tonight.”

The monster hunter paused his stride. He could hear the deity standing up behind him.

“The tent is big enough for two people.”

Techno took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“Alright. Tonight only,” he lied to himself. “Then I need to keep moving.”

“Alright,” the deity echoed. Techno could imagine the deity nodding at his back.

That's how he found himself, pressed up against the back of a sleeping deity half an hour later. He could feel Philza slowly moving against his spine with every breath. The god was laying on top of one on his wings in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable, but the deity sure sounded fast asleep.

Techno was curled up inside of a bedroll. Philza just had a blanket since his wings wouldn’t fit in a bedroll. The wolf was lying half on Techno’s legs, half under Philza’s wing. The weight of the canine and the subtle noises from the both the wolf and god soon lulled Techno to sleep.

[mcustorm]

Thoughts on Love, Victor Season 1

PSA: If you think that you might be gay, don’t get a girl emotionally invested! Please!

Ya know, at first when I thought about what I was going to write about this show, I thought that I should split the writings into the first half/last half of the show. Now I’m thinking “screw it”, if only because if I was going to go that route I should have stopped, parsed through my feelings about the first 5 episodes, and written those thoughts before proceeding with the next half. That, of course, did not happen, so to prevent the back half of the season’s events from miring the first half, I’ll just write about the whole shebang. There’s probably a joke about that word somewhere, I’ll try not to make it.

Anyways, let’s start by saying that on the whole, I really liked this show. It was not as good as Sex Education season 1, yet in my opinion waaaay better than HSMTMTS season 1. Most of the characters were likable and felt developed enough, it moved at a nice pace, and you can tell that a lot of heart went into this. Perhaps because we all watched this in a day, it felt like a 5 hour movie rather than a 10 episode tv show.

Additionally, I of course like the Latinx representation. The intersectionality of the Latinx community and the LGBTQ+ community has been presented on at least five TV shows to my knowledge: Ugly Betty, One Day at a Time, Diary of a Future President, The Baker and the Beauty, and now Love, Victor. Let’s keep it up!

As for the premise of the show itself, I *love* that this show acknowledges that Simon’s journey, at least at his house, was leaps and bounds easier than many other people’s. Victor’s parents are more conservative and religious, and they don’t have their shit together, so this is not the best environment to drop that bombshell in (which is why it was so incredible when Victor decides to do it anyway). Simon and Victor’s DM’s being a framing device for the show was a great way to tie the universe together.

The hook of Love, Simon was that you know all those cheesy and cliche rom-coms that straight people have gotten since the dawn of time? Well LGBT people deserve those stories too! Love, Victor is sort of presented with that same thesis in mind, which is why watching these episodes felt like different things I’ve seen before all over. The whole season ironically feels like Alex Strangelove: The TV Show, right down to the often cringy relationship with the girl, the openly gay love interest who conflicts our protagonist, and the goofball friend who chases after a girl who is seemingly out of his league.

Mia’s character felt a lot like Laila from All-American, being a black girl who is ordained as the hottest girl at school (which I feel like is a title only given in fictional schools), who also has a missing mother and problems with her rich dad. Pilar, on the other hand, feels like Casey from Atypical, in that she is openly rebellious in large part because of her mother’s infidelity.

Victor’s story this season sure was something to watch. The biggest question for me was, just how much sympathy should he be given? The world is inherently unfair to Victor. None of us should have to go through the agony and anxiety that so often comes with being in the closet and coming out. But for Victor to have visited those problems on Mia, who is going through things herself? That makes him pretty morally gray.

But he was still finding himself! But he loves Mia, just not like that! I get it, which is why he should have cut things off as soon as he got back from New York, no he should have cut things off when she asked him if there was “anything else” in her bedroom, no he should have cut things off when he literally felt like he and Benji were the only two people in the room at the concert, no he really shouldn’t have done this to begin with.

The line between Victor finding himself and him deceiving Mia is the conflict of the show, but the moment for me when I was like “Damn, Victor” was after he intentionally derailed Mia’s shebang-ing that she planned, he found the gall to lie to Benji and plan a seduction! That is why the season finale was so glorious. Because yes, while the world is unfair to Victor, he’s being unfair to the people around him.

I have made it a point not to read other people’s opinions extensively so as not to bias my own thoughts, but is Felix everybody else’s favorite? Felix’s character and arc was great. He was a supportive friend yet still felt like he had a story and stakes of his own, something which some TV shows get right (Sex Ed) and some TV shows get various shades of wrong (Jamie Johnson, Andi Mack). I like that he knew his worth and cut things off with Lake, and I like that she realized that her happiness with him should take priority over what others think of her.

I was soooo sympathetic to Mia. Her world is being turned upside down at home. Clearly, she has not even processed her mother being out of her life, and now her Dad is “replacing” her Mom while the baby is also “replacing” her! In Mia’s eyes, at least. Mia just needs to know that she is loved and appreciated. Which she *thought* of all people she’d be able to get from her boyfriend. Shucks.

As for the rest of Victor’s family, I also thought the parents’ storyline was pretty interesting yet unfortunate. Armando just can’t come around to trusting Isabel, which I actually kind of understand. Isabel, meanwhile, is being prevented from doing the thing she loves to do, which sucks especially because she’s in a radically new environment. Adrian is of course great, protect him at all costs. Pilar’s seemingly permanent mode of “angsty” is completely justified, as her friends back in TX are moving on just fine without her, she’s having trouble opening up and fitting in, and her family is WYLIN.

Some things that didn’t go so well for me was Andrew’s character, who feels like he’s just there to obstruct at any given moment. Y'all knew that when Victor and Benji were having that convo in the bathroom, someone was in the stall and someone was Andrew. Also, my guy, how are you not even somewhat aware that you are a total douchecanoe? I liked Benji, but Venji didn’t quite work for me because of all of the cheatation that it took to get there. Benji was pissed and ready to stay away from Victor permanently after the [attempted seduction], but once his relationship was over he was completely fine with putting his tongue down Mia’s boyfriend’s throat.

Overall, I really enjoyed this show. Some of these teen dramas I’m admittedly only watching for the LGBT content, so to have that be at the forefront of a show for once was amazing. The conflict was realistic if frustrating, and to me most of the characters seemed fully realized. Thankfully, the show didn’t even feel too “spin-offy” even with Nick Robinson being all over it.

In any given multi-season serialized show, the trajectory of the show goes one of two ways: the first season puts your feet on the ground of the series, and then later seasons go above and beyond with the storytelling (The Office, Breaking Bad, Bojack Horseman, Jamie Johnson) OR the first season is pretty great TV, and the following seasons fail to live up to its glory (The Good Place, Dear White People, really most every Netflix show ever). Which category Love, Victor ends up in is something to look forward to. Where do we go from here now that Victor is taking his first steps out of the closet?

Stray thoughts from the episodes:

The soundtrack on the whole, was not my cup of tea. I still liked a couple of songs, so that means somebody out there liked more of them.

I completely forgot Natasha Rothwell was in Love, Simon. More of her! More of Ali Wong! More of Beth Littleford! They were all great.

So Roger got his ass beat by Armando, and he still wants to get back with her?? Roger is reckless, man.

Speaking of reckless, Victor’s closet skills completely fell apart towards the end there. Assume somebody’s always watching!

Lake’s mother is a trip.

Good for the family for standing up to the grandparents.

Oh my god, Simon and Bram. Those guys are mine, and now they’re growing up and moving to the Big Gay City. They’ve come a long way.

Speaking of the Big Gay City, we were in Atlanta for a season and got *0* acknowledgement of the vibrant gay community there. More things to look forward to.

Was anybody else singing Selena along with Isabel? That is my favorite Selena song!

By rule of Felix being a male and Pilar being a female close in age, I immediately thought they were going to be a thing. The writers didn’t pull that thread too much...

That moment at the end there when we all thought Victor was going to hold off on his announcement only for him to go “fuck it” and say it anyways? And then he got to exhale? Perfect. chef’s kiss

What with June being Pride month, the SCOTUS ruling a couple of days ago, this entire show premiering today, and Delliot things going down in less than 24 hours, this will likely be the gayest week of the year. I suggest we all enjoy it.

Stay Peachy!

[tabletopjourneys]

Session 29 Notes

Completing fae deals and sailing out to sea with magic whales and a fortune in ambergris. Tags: @aradow @gher-bear @telurin @epimetal

On this day we successfully trick our way into completing Ixayl’anu’s bargain with Diem’s patron without having to fight anything. Said patron then immediately turns around to have Diem hold on to the item retrieved for awhile - the chaotic deck of many things. Diem and Ixayl’anu then deliver the fungus sample and make arrangements for possibly more samples and by-journal communications with the fungus expert, Professor Whitskey. Afterwards, we all set sail the next day for Anesh to continue our main quest. On the voyage, we encounter weirdness that includes a vanishing crew member and a group of whales doing ancient singing magics alongside and under the ship for a part of the voyage. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the meteors though. Ixayl’anu helps us discover and haul in some ambergris that’s gonna be worth tons of $$$$.   *Details below the “Keep Reading” break*

(Additional details noted before we knock on Dima’s door.) We agree that at some point while we’re all in the room, Phi found a good time  to tell us about Averni being run by vampires. This will possibly get threaded into a previous notes session if I find a good place. Either way, it happened.

Phi would have also told us during fae deal planning that Dima is a follower of Selune the moon goddess and that he’s pretty much not very tolerant/caring about other religions/gods/goddesses

Together we all figure out what Selune’s about, slightly a trickster (but not really the aspect Dima follows), for sailors, the moon and the night, etc.

(The visit with Dima - ‘Waiting Room’)

Ixayl’anu walks up to the door, Alfred the butler opens the door and looks at our ragtag bunch, spotting Phi in the back. “Yes, can I help you?”

Phi: We were wanting to talk to Dima, something’s come up.

Butler: Mr. Lenkov is in a meeting with Aristin Pilwickin (cousin 2nd removed) currently, but you can certainly come in and wait until they are done.

Phi: Yes it’s that important, we can wait.

Rest of us: Yeah we’re okay with waiting.

Phi: How’s it going Alfred? 

Al: *steps back opens door, responds*

Phi continues making small talk.

As we walk past the doors down the long hallway, past the doubledoors Phi gets whispered what’s going on because she’s the only one with perception for it and on high alert.

The exterior walls are def stone, but interior walls are plastered wood slats (a note for Rana)

As we reach the room we’re ushered to we see a scholarly blue and white dragonborn and fucked up gnome chick, not related to Phi, def looks like she had a hard life, low London rough and tumble accent.

Phi parses this as odd because she doesn’t really ever see these two together and they were both doing whispery voiced arguing that clams up when we enter.

Gnome lady stays quiet

Payton (scholarly dragonborn): Ah, leaf pick, haven’t seen you in awhile.

Rana gives Phi a confused look because this is like name #15

He’s one of the more stable potion makers of the group (Payton) soooome minor enchantments

Phi: Hey! How ya doin, Payton?

Rana and Diem hug the wall together not feeling great about the group’s chances in this situation.

Phi and Payton have awkward chitchat.

Phi gives Bamfina Lockley (the rough and tumble London gnome) a nod: Hey.

Lockley gives her a cool look in response, something of a glare.

Payton glazes over that about how great it’s going, lots of shipments and good time for working on my projects.

Phi: Have you heard anything about the weird meteors we’ve been having, lots of sciencey people talking about that?

Payton: I have seen them but I’ve been really busy this past week so I haven’t been...why have you heard anything?

Phi: We were talking to some people at the university and it just sounded pretty crazy, right?

Payton: *quetioning look* I didn’t realize you were so interested in astronomy

Phi: New hobby of mine, been spending a lot of time outdoors looking up at the sky and it’s just become fascinating to me.

Neither Payton nor Bamfina look like they know what to do with that.

Payton takes interest in Phi’s friends, we briefly greet back.

Phi asks if they’re waiting to see Dima

No

Oh we’re just gonna go in then

Lockley stroms off

Rana: Bye!

Phi’s cousin walks out from a door in the side hall on the east wall. “Oh, Selphina! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Phi: Oh, hey *nickname for level 2 familiarity* Small chitchat in the hall about wishing their loved ones well follows.

He gives the rest of us a wtf are these people doing here look as he goes by but Diem doesn’t even notice him until he’s already past them while Rana tries to start obviously awkward conversation with Payton after Phi dropped him like a hot potato. (The meeting with Dima)

Phi knocks on door where Dima is waiting.

Dima: Enter

Phi peeks in “I brought my friends with me this time, is it okay if they come in?”

Dima gives her a look: It’s better than having them in the hall.

It’s a cozy little office with french doors leading into a garden/well area. 20x30 office

Diem comes all the way in and crosses with Phi to the french door area to allow room for Rana and Ixayl’anu, then sits in the chair on that side of the office.

Dima thinks this is unusual that Phi’s brought people in, but she’s not in trouble for it. He casually closes his books and sets them aside as we come in.

Dima: Phi what is this about, I thought we’d spoken earlier?

Phi: Yeeeeah, but it turns out my friends realized they have something to talk to *you* about and so I brought them here to talk about it.

Dima: Interesting *makes go on hand gesture*

Ixayl’anu: (rolls a 10 on persuasion) and she says something to the effect of “I’m on a mission from Selune, and you have something she requires to complete my quest.” Dima is intrigued

Diem doesn’t think he looks intrigued enough and decides to use phantasmal force to convince Ixayl’anu Selune is now talking through her to tell this story, and hopefully Dima that it’s true/help really sell the story. Sleight of hand casting succeeds/Nobody notices Diem cast it, but Ixayl’anu makes her save enough to know what’s going on and let it happen.

Ixayl’anu then rolls a nat 20 on persuasion with the rest of the story, letting herself believe she’s possessed by Selune. Diem adds a little moonlight prestidigitation to Ixayl’anu’s eyes to really sell it. Both trickstery deities involved probably fully approved and thought this was great fun (Dima’s and Ixayl’anu’s)

Dima: Yes, Ixayl’anu, whatever you need, name it.

“Selune”: Ixayl’anu will know it when I see it through her eyes.

He leads us to the basement where there’s a sleeping black dragon it looks up and snorts.

Peace Antimony, (words I missed).

It hisses some toxic green gas and lays back down.

Dima leads us around. “This is just general storage, but I’ve got a vault down here.”

Rana and Phi have been flabbergasted. We all stand back and just act like we’re not interested in snooping. 

1st item: metal globe with protection runes “thaumaturge’s orb.”

2nd item: A staff with a golden hand at the end with one finger extended “Staff of Midas”

3rd item: Multi-faced star-shaped cut glass/shimmery crystal reflecting light in prismy way “The sky crystal focus” about the size of a basketball.

4th item: Beautiful finely made silver circlet with a large multi-faceted, mostly purple gemstone in the middle with 3 little motes of light that float around it in diff shifting colors “Arcanist’s Circlet”

5th item: A tiny hummingbird out of enamel or jade, in flight “Valonte’s vitalium”

6th item: Another orb, jet black with 2 copper bands runes carved into the orb. “Orb of passage”

7th item: A sword longsword with kind of twisted metal and hilt is standard wrapped hilt that merges into the base of the blade like grasping vines, cross blade is thorny “constrictor blade”

8th item: Just looks like a deck of fine playing cards, kinda plain. “The Deck of Many Things”

9th item: Amulet on a jeweler’s bust, inside is a beautiful topaz (yellow), large cut to shine brilliant, around it 2 sphinx’s and a four winged angel on top with sunrays behind it. It looks very ornate. “The Sunheart medallion.”

If Rana was looking she might be able to say more about it, but she isn’t.

Dima: I did just acquire this as well. 

*shows wine decanter sized crystal vial with a metallic, shimmering in all the colors kaleidoscopic liquid, I’m not exactly sure what this does yet, I haven’t had it identified, but it may also be what you seek.

Arcana check of 22 to see if I know any stories about the item names: Enough to Cross off staff of midas, volantes vitaleum, and constrictor blade.

Diem manages to sleight of hand cast message to share not these 3, but my patron said you would know it when you see it, so maybe...communicate with your god in front of each one or something? “You can respond to this message”

Ixie: Maaaybe.

Rolling a d6 at a 5 (for where she’s drawn): Ixie narrows it down to the skycrystal focus, the arcanist circlet, and the deck of many things.

Ixayl’anu tries to use divine sense in front of the 3. It doesn’t tell her any more.

She’s doing the slow loop around the room kinda thing, holding a hand out, dowsing rod kinda passing each one. Loops back around to the deck, decisively points at the deck “That one.”

Dima: Yeah, that completely makes sense, let me unlock that for you.

Phi rolls investigation to see if there’s a magic component to these keys or anything. As he puts in the key and turns it there’s a faint puff of coloured magic smoke that comes out, and she knows it’s just like a simple alarm spell - it would make a noise to alert something or someone elsewhere. Takes out the deck and hands it to Ixayl’anu.

Phi notices the back of these cards is an exact match to the card she’s been carrying. Dima’s deck is complete, Phi got it within a year, but not from Dima. Meta info none of us realize: Vizier: At any time you choose within one year of drawing this card, you can ask a question in meditation and mentally receive a truthful answer to that question. Besides information, the answer helps you solve a puzzling problem or other dilemma. In other words, the knowledge comes with Wisdom on how to apply it.

Ixayl’anu tries to give him a good faith I know it’s not enough token of 100gold

Dima: No, this is between us and the deities. (but he appreciates the gesture)

Ixayl’anu: May her light shine on you.

Dima: And you as well.

We don’t linger and follow Phi out.

He invites us to a drink after with some chitchat. With as little detail as possible and as much truth as possible (not sure what I meant by this statement lol). We get very good bourbon.

Charisma check for how Dima views each of us moving forward: Rana 15, Ixayl’anu 15, Diem: 10, Phi: nat 20 (22 total).

Level up!

We go back to the inn and Rana buys us dinner.

We talk about when we’re doing the professor meeting and will they meet us at night.

We both are like as soon as possible, but we’ll say it’s an emergency.

Rana exchanges a look with Phi.

Diem: What? Wait did you guys get message while I wasn’t paying attention?

Rana: Yes. Phi tells Diem the truth though (no, we didn’t)

Diem talks about maybe appearing on the boat after it’s already set sail - they don’t know how these things work.

Rana: Won’t the captain have questions?

Diem: Well we’re already paid for so it’s not like we’d be stowaways.

Rana and Phi talk about how mad her mentor might be, they talk about not knowing it wasn’t an actual message from Selune and what if Dima finds out. Rana doesn’t for a moment believe Selune was involved. 

Phi: That won’t be explained until the future either and if a catastrophe was averted by then it could make him less mad.

Rana: Let’s hope it was worth it.

Phi: Yeah, let’s take it one day at a time. Cross that bridge when we come to it.

Rana: Let’s just hope we don’t burn that bridge.

*cut to Diem and Ixayl’anu for a deal’s a deal scenes*

Diem does as last time, with the sense Ahrune heard.

Ahrune pops in “That was fast, what have you brought for me?”

Diem: We may have convinced him it was ordained by his goddess.

Ahrune: More interesting than what I had in mind.

Ixayl’anu *huffy*: It wasn’t exactly clear, but I brought you these.

Ahrune: *examines them* Yes, these will do quite nicely *hands them over to Diem* Why don’t you hold on to these for me.

Diem: *thanks in shock*

Ahrune makes us a door directly to the guy, and hands Diem a return portal orb to the inn when we’re done. “Forgive me if I don’t want to stick around for this part.” *disappears*

*Diem tucks the cards into their inner suit pocket before following Ixayl’anu through the door.*

As soon as we walk in he looks up: Oh! Hello I didn’t...office hours are closed!

Ixayl’anu: Forgive the intrusion but I need to talk to you.

Whitskey: You don’t look like one of my students…?

Ixayl’anu: No we haven’t met before, I have an unusual question...well...maybe *looks at all the vials of fungus and thinking maybe not* Wondering if maybe you can identify something for me.

I’m given to understand you’re professor Whitskey?

Whitskey: Yep that’s me.

Ixayl’anu: Do you...I think this question is self evident but do you happen to study lichen and fungus and things?

Whitskey: That is my specialty

Ixayl’anu: I have a substance that I - well a group of us found recently and I was hoping you’d know more about it.

Magical lichen - you understand magical lichen very well?

Whitskey: Yes do you have one you want me to identify?

Ixayl’anu digs in her pack and pulls out the vial to hand over

Diem: before you open this you should know *tells about it briefly and where it was sampled from*

Whitskey: Yeah I recognized it so I wasn’t going to throw magic at it but thanks for the warning.

You said you found this in the shadowood? You’re quite far from home.

One of us: We spoke to professor Leonis he wasn’t sure if it was native here or if they came with the meteors, he kind of led us to think it was native

Whitskey: Professor Leonis, I can’t say that I’m too familiar with him but I don’t get out much. I have heard all this hullabaloo about these meteors but I didn’t realize it would have anything to do with my work.

We talk about it growing directly on the meteor.

Diem illustrates it for him.

Whitskey: Hmmm *adjusts glasses* (has very large eyes behind the glasses)

Ixayl’anu brings up the dwarf too.

Whitskey: There was a dwarf? Tell me more about this.

Diem does a 22 on telling the story again and all the details they can remember.

Whitskey looks at the lichen in the jar and studies it. His excitement continues to grow as he looks up things in books and compares, etc. 

He keeps it in the jar and he brings the mage light closer to the vial. *Diem steps back*

The lichen grows toward the source of the magic with quite a speed, spindly bits and deeper colored. Whitskey quickly separates it out again.

Whitskey: This is quite a find! This is a very...I haven’t actually seen this before!

Diem would let him know what officials in Miova know, what little they don’t, or even the local Miovan professors about this fungus and that he might want to put a team together to stress the importance of this to his local magistrates/officials/etc, asks whether it might be wise to take a protected sample back there as well.

Whitskey: If I’m correct this line is very aggressive. Transporting it could be quite problematic, we’d have to set up a containment field, quite frankly I’m surprised it stayed in this method of containment.

Diem agrees on the point of transporting it back through another, different magical door and that it’s probably best to leave the whole sample with Whitskey after all.

Diem and Ixayl’anu talk about her mission and what they can do if they encounter more of it. Whitskey gets excited about the possibility of more samples then and happily gives us containers of his own.

Tips for future encounters: Bring someone who can create a null field, anti-magic area to contain it, and it is best you get the samples when they’re small, when they’re large they have a self-fulfilling mist about them and they become quite difficult to contain. At that point it can do certain things, take over other living organisms.

Diem: Like that dwarf - oh and maybe those gnolls.

*tells him about the gnolls now too*

Whitskey: Oh yeah some cults do use them to infect themselves with various forms of these lichens to become part of their deities. Usually those cults get found and irradicated. Some small discussion about that. We find out it’s common though with known species and not necessarily tied to this new one.

Diem asks about the care of the vessels

The containers are inert until you open them and put something inside, and once you shut them they become their magical versions and he wouldn’t recommend putting them in magic holding things like bags of holding or anything like that, but near those bags is fine.

(Rana:This guy is totally going to turn out to be evil

Leonis: "I can't just hand out University materials, I'd have to get permission."

This guy: "Take my personal vials.")

We get 3 containment units.

He goes around to the other side of his table and give us a small book of sending so we can keep in touch and we can coordinate how to get samples and such back and forth.

We verify we can send warnings through and not just notes, and he will contact us too about things he learns.

How durable are the contaminants?

More durable than glass, they can break, handle them with care, don’t smash them on the floor or throw them at things. They’re made of magical pyrex. Thick enough to drop from waist height and they’ll be fine.

Whitskey: You’ve made my whole night, my whole year, I have so many things to do!

Ixayl’anu has something else she wanted to ask but can’t think of it right now.

Diem makes sure it’s okay to ask him a question in the book later if she thinks of it.

Whitskey: Oh yes, so long as it pertains to all of this.

Diem: Can this book be stored in a bag of holding?

Whitskey: Yes absolutely.

Ixayl’anu: Anything else you can think of?

Diem: Nope I think we did a pretty good job.

Ixayl’anu smashes the portal and we go back to the room we were in, taking 45 minutes total.

Rana and Ixayl’anu played with their rats. *rewind a little (to prevent potential disaster lol)*

Before we left, Phi brought up that she had a similar card to the deck we got and she tells us it’s a deck of many things that have wildly varying effects that could be really good or really bad and she knows you have to declare how many cards you want to draw and select them. She has an enchanted card to be whatever card she needs and now that she knows this it’s revealed its true nature to her so now it probably doesn’t work as intended.

Phi asks if she can see the deck and Ixayl’anu hands it over (in the velvet bag Dima had tucked them in).

She puts them face down on the table “I have one of these cards that I thought was just a trick card. I use this to turn into a different card *she tells it to change by illustration* the fact my boss had cards like this tucked in his treasure room tells me this is more than just a simple trick.”

It’s def a trickster element to it. Diem realizes they know stories about these cards (21 arcana check), gives some examples of people dying, being lost, become more powerful or rich, getting wishes granted.

Rana makes a face when the wish spell is mentioned.

Phi: Sounds super dangerous but also kind of fun

Diem: Yeah, but also the epitome of fey fun, so it makes sense why you picked that one, Ixayl’anu.

Phi: *tucks her card away and talks about getting it identified*

*Phi and Rana time while Ixayl’anu and Diem are at Whitskey’s*

Rana: So how do you and Dima know each other?

Phi: He’s the head of an organization I used to be a part of.

My family is very involved still so I kinda don’t talk about being involved with it anymore so I kinda just go off and do my own thing but Dima is one of the people who knows I don’t wanna be a part of it anymore. He makes sure I don’t get any heat from not wanting to be part of it now.

Rana: Well your sister seems nice and he seems nice

Phi: He’s NOT nice, but my sister doesn’t know much about it, she’s just a family person, focuses on that. Her job’s not so intense (I have a lot of sisters though).

Rana: What do your other siblings do? *confused*

Phi: You know

Rana: No, I don’t.

Phi: Just stuff that isn’t necessarily on the up and up, you know, like...below the law things that you may not wanna do if you have kids you gotta feed. I don’t know, she’s just a different person.

Rana: Is that why she had so many kids?

Phi: Oh no that’s just normal and they’re not all hers.

Rana: Dima did help us. Well, we tricked him into it but he really did help us.

Phi: Yeah I was actually a little surprised by that. I think he’s just very devout so I don’t think he saw an option to not help if that makes any sense?

Rana: Either way if he’s been supporting you and he’s willing to help us out, he can’t be that bad right?

Phi: Sure. I mean he’s not supporting me out of the niceness of his heart, we made a deal.

*I missed Rana’s response, sorry*

Phi: It wasn’t like a favor it was a trade

Rana: At least we’re not making deals with the fae

Phi: That’s some crazy shit right? I’d never do something like that.

*Back to the present*

Diem stores coffee can sized containers in their bag with a tight fit and takes the sending book downstairs to meet the others after we decide to tell them about the deck in addition to the meeting with the prof.

They are cuddling very fat very happy rats right now when we find them.

Diem: Good news and...interesting news.

*we tell them*

*we go over our primary goal*

We decide to let the local lawmaster know our statement too and told the front desk lady. Rana didn’t come along, she went to bed.

Diem mentioned meeting them again for breakfast because they have last night of potential company.

Phi asks about that on the way and Diem dishes about the sexy librarian with his dark teal skin. 

Ixayl’anu got a 13 on her insight check to the first story she overheard.

Contested against 23, she believed it all, but it was definitely just singing the praises of Teagan and nothing revealing at all about Diem themselves. (Insight checks were arranged after, Phi’s is yet to be determined)

(Getting on the boat)

Next day Diem doesn’t make it to breakfast but they do make it just in time.

Rana on stone: I have your stuff and bringing it with me to the boat, be there.

Diem: I’m already on my way I promise, I’ll be there soon *flying clothes on totally not already on the way*  Diem also manages to get a pearl on the way for their new identify spell.

Rana is a bit grumpy as she eats her breakfast taco

Ixayl’anu tells Rana she has something that might help, even though she seems to have a handle on water forms now *hands over water walking ring*

Rana: If you don’t mind I would like to hold on to this for the journey.

Ixayl’anu: Sure

*brusquely nods*

Diem: Oh my pack is making up, you guys <3

Rana spent all night preparing all the water spells.

Ixayl’anu dumps 4 shark teeth

Phi: What’s with that?

Ixayl’anu: It’s so we have a safe trip?

Diem: What? What’s what about?

Ixayl’anu: Don’t you have anything to give too?

Phi and Diem: No, do we need to?

Ixayl’anu looks worried and gives us shark teeth and tells us to throw them in too.

We do so and I’m totally interested in the story behind it. Tell me Ixayl’anu, pretty please!

Ixayl’anu: You just do it for safe passage from the spirits.

Clearly the guardian spirits of the ocean are the sharks. This just insures nothing that’s beyond the sailors skills will happen on this journey.

Diem talks about that being fair - no shark teeth is probably why they ended up overboard in a barrel their last trip to sea.

*Ixayl’anu hands Diem a small bag of shark teeth just in case.*

Diem: Do I dump all these in now or for later?

Ixayl’anu: Later, you shipwrecked seems you’ll need them. Diem gives a fair point shrug and happily holds on to them.

During all this talk, Rana has tossed in one of the prettier stones from her pocket and while stressing out, is looking to spot it in the water. Rana manages to spot her offering.

Phi tries to distract by asking Rana about her homeland.

Diem internally pouts over not hearing Ixayl’anu’s story about how she lost her body guards the first time around that didn’t go so well, but is also interested in stories about Rana’s homeland (and distracting her). (I think I missed some of the initial talk)

Rana: Don’t wanna be caught out in the desert without protection either from the sun, cold at night, etc.

Phi: Well you just have to trust the experts that know about the place we’re in, like we trust these experts in the ship we’re in.

Rana looks over like “I know what you’re doing” Yes we do don’t we, let’s get on this boat before I change my mind. *Throws in all her shark teeth too*

When we get on, we mostly get ignored by the crew.

(Aboard the ship, talking about Anesh, Rana sees a new animal form!)

Phi does 14 perception, few new faces, mostly the same crew. “Hey how many shark teeth did you throw in the water today?” to the one she knows to be the nicest/most tolerant.

Person looks at her with sheer incredulity “what are you talking about?” and walks away.

Phi 11 retro-active perception checks superstitious stuff among this crew, but hasn’t noticed any.

When shown their rooms, Diem asks Rana if she wants to share a room since there are only 3.

Ixayl’anu attempts to bring her elk aboard and gets a few looks from the crew, but they don’t deny her. The captain is nowhere to be seen. It can roam around 9 or put it in 12 (the actual hold). She bought elk supplies bedding/food for the trip.

On their rush to the boat, I did manage to buy a pearl because my patron tipped me off to check my spell book.

We all hang out on deck, Diem tries and fails to come up with positive ship stories to distract Rana.

Ixayl’anu asks Rana about where they’re going.

Rana rolls 14 history check: She knows it’s a port town (Farford), they do a lot of the trade that comes in from Petarus rather than overland - specialty seeds, various animals (not the metals which come from Bouldergap). She didn’t stick around too much. Before she met us she didn’t stick around anywhere very much, sold her goods and moved on.

Ixayl’anu: What’s it like in Anesh?

Rana: It’s pretty dry, it’s a desert - most of it, near the mountains you have more brushy cover. You don’t wanna go to Lake Nitron.

Phi: Why not?

Diem: What’s wrong with Lake Nitron?

Rana: It’s pretty deadly, only a few birds can survive out there it’s not really a place that you’d want to live. Sunhame is right in the middle of it all but most of the towns are either on the coastline or nearer the mountains where there’s cover.

Ixayl’anu: And that’s where your home is, up in the mountains?

Rana: Yeah, that’s where I learned all my druid craft at too

Ixayl’anu: What do your parents do?

Rana: It’s just my mom, she’s a tailor. My dad died before I was born so I can’t really tell you much about him. My brother is a blacksmith.

Sunhame is not as large as Miova but the rest of the towns are about the size of Budelia.

I’ve been to Sunhame a few times, it’s heavily religious. I spent a lot of time traveling between them all between my mom’s business and my brother’s blacksmithing. We don’t have anything like the shadowood where we’re from though, that’s a you guys thing.

Ixayl’anu: Do you have trees?

Rana: Some, a few up in the mountains scattered near them, but not a lot of them. It’s not as green, you guys have a very green country

Diem: Do you prefer it that way?

Rana: I like both places, nature exists (I missed the rest of this) yeah it’s not as green as Rethwellian but I think you guys will like it, it’s a nice place.

Ixayl’anu: I get the impression it’s really hot though

Rana: Yeah, it’s warm. It’s a desert.

(Established that Rana’s staff is made of hazel, found in the mountains.)

(I may have missed some more things. You’ve probably guessed but even when I don’t note this, it’s probably true even for conversations that seem whole.)

Rana talks until someone stops her, but we’re all on team distract Rana, so we encourage it.

We have occasionally seen the captain if we notice.

Calm sailing so far.

Ixayl’anu rolls a d20 for us for mysterious reasons.

About 3 hours into the day, noonish, we see a pod of killer whales hanging out with the boat. 

Rana ventures closer to the rail by then and adds it to her animals seen list.

Diem asks how her animal form hunting went.

Rana: I found a loud seal.

Diem: Did you try swimming?

Rana: No I just transformed into one so I know I can do it and watched them swimming so I’m sure they can. It’ll be fine.

Diem: Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be just fine. (As text this sounds like sarcasm but it wasn’t lol)

Rana: Yeah we’ll be okay.

Diem: We will absolutely be okay. (Also not sarcasm, but let’s not point out she didn’t try swimming in that form)

(Aboard the ship, Diem has identify now!) 

Before the end of the day, Diem picks a time when everyone’s near enough to hear them to tell Phi “guess what I learned how to do?”

Phi: What?

Diem: *brandishes pearl* I can identify things now!

Phi: And what’s that?

Diem: Oh the pearl I need to cast it.

Phi: So does that mean you could find out what this card can do?

Diem: Maybe, wanna try?

Phi: Yeah *hands it over*

Diem starts trying 

Phi: Oh but I also wanted to ask you how your night went.

Diem: *tries to concentrate on ritual but gives up to just answer the question* do you want to know that now or after I cast the ritual?

Phi: Oh later is fine.

Phi leaves so they can concentrate.

Diem finds it out after 15 minutes instead of just 10 and tells Phi it is the vizier and what it does.

Phi looks disappointed (I think because the card also lost its ability to be any card she wanted at a thought but all I literally wrote here is “Phi looks disappointed scene” and then failed to remember details I was so sure I could fill in later :P) (Aboard the ship: Keeping company with spiderwalking elks, Phi and Diem have a talk)

Ixyal’anu goes to keep her elk company after awhile.

Before the end of the night, Diem and Phi go to Phi’s room to dish the details on Diem’s last night with Teagan. By the time they get there, however, Diem has a more serious, related topic on their mind that alters this discussion (Sorry at the time I was stuck in the “no live awkward rated R details” mode and forgot something happened that would give Diem pause over the “after hours” story time).

Rana casts spider climb on the elk again to make herself feel better.

Ixayl’anu, confused, asks it “did you do this? How do you do this?”

Elk: I’m on the ceiling, it’s great!

Unfortunately realizes he can’t swallow upside down so comes down to swallow his food.

Ixayl’anu: You need to teach me this trick

Elk: I don’t know how I do it, it just happens.

Ixayl’anu insight checks 18 *stares down the elk*

Elk: Sometimes when your friend comes around I can do this.

Ixayl’anu: Which One?

Elk: The copper one

(Aboard the ship - next day shenanigans, I think? Day 3 shenanigans? I didn’t make the timeline very clear in these notes) At some point during the day, Diem snuck in Phi’s room to take back the doll from her packs, then tried to sneak it into her arms that night 20 stealth vs 25 perception, Phi wakes to see Diem looming over her, reaching out. 

Diem quickly hides doll behind their back and is very awkward about this. Rana doesn’t cuddle and I wanted to see if you would.

Phi wants to know what they were doing, why they were reaching out for her face though.

They awkwardly try to explain that there was something on her face.

Phi tells them they’re being creepy. Diem: Oh, and who snuck into my room in Budelia just sitting on the end of my bed watching me? That wasn’t creepy? Deflection fails so Diem shows her the doll and pretends they were trying to get rid of it for her before she woke up and freaked out.  This backfires as Phi gets really really freaked out and Diem decides they can’t go through with that either and admits that they did it, they were actually trying to *leave the doll in her arms* to find later and it’s just one of those normal dolls of the queen they were handing out at the festival.

Phi: I changed my mind, you’re not getting cuddles tonight.

Diem *crushed to lose cuddles*: I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were that scared of it - What if I throw it overboard right now - an offering to the sharks?

Phi agrees to cuddle after all if Diem throws the doll overboard. We do so and then go sleep in the same room with Rana. Note: I think I forgot to note the passage of some uneventful days mixed up in this trip somewhere because otherwise we’d have only 2 full days out to sea, arriving in the morning of day 3. As such, I went back through the notes to note when an (the?) uneventful day(s?) might’ve occurred. (Ocean Voyage Day ?: What happened to Kelly?)

By the time the rest of us wake up, Rana is probably already on deck sitting miserably.

Diem tries to cheer her up but it’s mostly cause she’s not feeling well.

Ixayl’anu begins to notice how weird it is that this crew is quiet and antisocial

Diem doesn’t really notice but tries to encourage sea shanties. A few look my way (19 persuasion) and catch themselves humming before quickly cutting off and going silent again.

Ixayl’anu starts talking to phi about how strange this is

Diem agrees, noting how the ships they’ve been on always sing shanties and clearly some of this crew knows them…

Ixayl’anu: and they’re usually shouting back and forth about things they’re doing/seeing.

Phi: Maybe they don’t need to communicate like that?

Diem: Yeah maybe they all follow old ones...? Wait that sounded way more ominous out loud than in my head.

Rana is glaring at us.

Ixayl’anu: *Grumbling* it’s usually more lively than this, I just don’t like it.

Phi realizes something about something Tel whispered her: Wait a second guys, I wanna go ask somebody something *goes to find the guy who thought the whole shark teeth thing was weird*

Phi makes a 17 investigation roll, she does not see the person she was looking for, but she had seen him since launch.

Phi returns and tells us she can’t find the guy she spoke to yesterday when we set out.

Diem: Are all the little boats still here?

Ixayl’anu casts divine sense but doesn’t sense any celestial, fiends, or undead: Do you know his name? Maybe you could ask about him?

Phi doesn’t know why we’re worried, but she knows his name (Sean something I missed) and could go asking even though she’s not worried.

Diem messages: Are you really not worried or are you saying that for Rana’s benefit, you can respond to this message.

Phi: Well I’m not worried but I’m getting worried that you’re worried. You can respond to this message.

Phi goes off to ask the captain and knocks, hears sigh.

Cpn: What can I do for you Selphina?

Phi: I was gonna ask Kelly a question but I can’t find him, do you know where he is?

Peter gets quiet and then says “Oh no, Mr Kelly had other engagements and didn’t join us this go around.”

Phi: But I saw him yesterday…?

Cpn: You must’ve been mistaken.

Insight check 10. She knows he’s lying but doesn’t know anything else about it, only that something about this is not right. It’s also suddenly degrees colder in this room.

Phi: I guess I was mistaken.

Cpn: No worries it happens to everyone

Phi: How’s the trip going, are we on schedule?

Cpn: Oh we’re making excellent time, we should be there by morning.

Phi: Excellent

Upon returning to us, Phi: Guys I don’t think we should be talking near the captain’s door in the future, but I was clearly mistaken

Phi actively tries to get out of the conversation and drop it.

Diem suggests maybe it’s this crew’s own superstitions like “quiet passage for quiet passage.”

Ixayl’anu says maybe she’ll be be less worried about it then. (Aboard the ship: Ambergris!)

At some point during the day we see a lump of grey goo overboard about the size of 2 milk crates. Definitely smaller than a chair.

Ixayl’anu notices it first, rolls a 12 on nature check, it’s not something her culture uses but it’s whale vomit and worth its weight in gold.

She points it out, gives fancy ambergris name to us and looks for a bucket, Phi tries to help.

We found a bucket, it’s probably not big enough for this. Ixayl’anu hits the thing, but realizes the bucket is too small.

Rana casts control water to keep it with the ship. Diem runs to get their special rope. 

When they return with rope, it ties off successfully and Ixayl’anu manages to get it up to the boat, with all four of us pulling we successfully get it on board (mostly Rana’s 21 and no thanks to my 2 lol).

It smells not great.

Diem: Oh that’s awful *prestidigitations it to smell like flowers* (Except it’s old enough to be hard and not smell too awful anymore)

We talk about getting it in the black of holding and breaking it in pieces so we don’t rip our bag.

Rana asks about what it’s for, is it part of the meteor?

Ixie: No, it’s...well it’s whale vomit.

Diem: Oh, gross... *looks at their hands and casts prestidigitation*

Rana goes back over to sit where she was before like oh my god as the rest of us talk about it being valuable. She leaves the bag of holding with us to break it and stick it in the bag.

Phi: This is awesome, the best day ever, I’m going to throw shark teeth in the water every time!

Ixayl’anu: *excited* yeah the teeth just show up on the beach it’s so easy to find them. (not knowing if that’s true everywhere).

Diem: Or maybe the whale just saw that doll (as an aside to Phi)? 

Phi laughs.

We have a pleasant evening, no plans.

Ixayl’anu gives a heads up to the elk: Watch listen tonight so you can stay up. Keep your ears open.

Evening perception checks: me (literal 0), Ixayl’anu: (nat 20), Rana: 21, Selphina: 10. (Ancient Whalesong Magic!)

Rana can’t sleep tonight. She hears a low wailing that goes into a series of clicks. She hears it all night long.

Rana goes to Ixayl’anu’s room and asks “What is that?” It sounds like they’re following the boat or just all around us.  A lot of them and very close.

Ixayl’anu: It’s whale song

Rana: Why are they so loud?

Ixayl’anu: Well it’s...I don’t know what they use it for, but it’s communication

Rana: But why are they so loud?

Ixayl’anu: I don’t know *both go above deck to check it out*

Rana makes 7 perception, Ixayl’anu a 14. She knows what to look for - occasionally she sees a spout but they’re not hanging out at the surface, only coming up to breathe and going back down, unlike what she’s used to.

Looking out over the water for a little bit they speak with animals at about the same time. About 10-14 whales.

Rana or Ixayl’anu: What are you singing about?

A whale: We’re working

Another whale: We’re busy

Now that they can hear what they’re saying, it doesn’t make sense at first, it has a weird strange poetic cadence to it, it kinda sounds like chanting or a ritual spell.

Ixayl’anu makes an 8 on arcana check

Rana wants to see if this is natural and rolls an 18 nature check. It seems like a natural thing, these are natural whales.

Ixayl’anu: What’s the song about?

There are words they can recognize, but she didn’t pre-arrange the song (Bless you if you know what I meant at the end of this statement).

19 perception from Ixayl’anu to get the meaning through the overlapping song. It’s about wrapping something around things and tying things together and binding something, repetitive in the round song way (row row row your boat lol) about keeping something together, apart from everything else.

Rana is leaning over the railing intrigued by all this.

Ixayl’anu is looking for any visual signs, 14, little waves, but not enough to disturb the pretty view of moonlight on the water. She doesn’t hear any birds or any other splashing. Very quiet other than the whale song.

Rana excitedly runs below deck to wake Phi and Diem up to experience the whales too! Diem actually does manage to perceive whales. It is very cool.

Rana (to whales): Are you coming with us?

A Whale: No we have our own business to attend to

Rana: Where are you going?

Whale: Here

Ixayl’anu: Are you hunting?

Whale: No, we are not hunting. We are very busy.

Rana: Do you need help?

One of the whales spy hops, large whale between humpback and blue whale (fin whale).

Diem: Wow that is so cool.

Rana gets the sense it’s looking at her and comes back down with a snort: I don’t think you could.

Rana: You’d be surprised. I might be able to help if you need help, but what’re you doing?

Whale: It is old magic for our kind.

Ixayl’anu and Rana ask them more about it, find out they’re doing some kind of binding ritual.

Rana casts locate object looking for pieces of the meteor.

She does not sense anything within a thousand feet of her. 

Rana: Is it about a rock?

Whale: It is about the project

Rana looks at Ixayl’anu with an unspoken question.

Ixayl’anu shrugs.

Whale clarifies: The Great Project

Rana: Good luck!

One whale acknowledges with a little fin wave

Rana: They clarified it wasn’t about a rock

Diem knows of sailors telling a few tales of whales helping shipwrecked people and other species and some people say the whales seem to be very benevolent forces, not really heard of magic, just weird sailor tales.

Diem suggests maybe the great project has to do with the sharks teeth thing.

Eventually over the next half hour we get out of immediate range, but we hear them for the rest of the night.

Phi dozed off leaning against something.

We go back to bed and the whole thing puts us at a later rising time. (Farford on the horizon!)

When we wake up we see Farford in the distance.

We’re gonna get 30k platinum for the amber gris (7500 each)

Next session: Jan 14th 5pm. (But really...tomorrow, it’s tomorrow!)

We don’t need to rp out selling whale vomit.

Phi kept a little jar of amber gris for future trade options.

Ixayl’anu tries to find more shark teeth.

(Omitted notes to self with note of omission so I remember to reference them for establishing some previous details)

Diem promises when they receive their cut of the amber gris, to name their firstborn after Ixayl’anu lol.

[foresthearth]

Review: “Witch”, by Lisa Lister

Coming in three years after publication, ‘cause that’s how I roll.

Okay, I have to mention, I HATE these matte covers that pick up fingerprints like you wouldn’t believe. Ugh. Why do this to me and my greasy little hands?!

Moving on.

TL;DR: If you are a cisgender, AFAB woman with a fully functioning reproductive system, who finds this fact to be intrinsic to your parsing of femininity and spirituality, this book will probs be great for you.

Everyone else? This book is bad. Yes, there is some nuance to this and the WHY of its badness (and all reviews are subject to reviewer bias), but overall, in summation? It’s bad.

To start off, the kinda dubious but overall not so bad: it doesn’t really tell you anything. It bills itself as sort of a cultural studies text crossed with an intro to witchcraft; however, for me, it fails at both. As a textbook, it does not cite sources, though there is a “Bookshelf” section at the end – the text itself, however, really just serves as a place for Lister to talk about her perceptions of the female and feminine power throughout history. Which in and of itself is FINE, but don’t say you’re going to explain “the history behind witchcraft” (literally in the back cover blurb) and not actually back that history up with sources. You can talk all you want about persecution of women, but when putting it in a specific context such as the age of witch trials, or referring to societies that used to venerate women before the patriarchy took hold, it really helps to have some primary or secondary source to back up what you’re saying. You may think that we’re all drawing from a common knowledge, but not everyone has access to that knowledge pool, nor has the same background and learning. Just back up what you’re saying, or even just reference further reading that people can do if they want to learn more about what you’re pulling from. (I compare this to one of my books on Queer Magic – it also doesn’t have a bibliography, but that is due to the fact that it IS primary source material, essays from queer folks on *their magic*. Witch is not trying to be a primary source, therefore Lister should really acknowledge where she’s found her information.)

Now, the intro to witchcraft bit. Personally, none of the spells resonated with me – except for the Ostara honeycakes recipe because they are delicious – but that has more to do with how I practise magic. Lister’s practise and mine are very different, and her formalised spells/rituals do absolutely nothing for me. BUT if you are new to witchcraft, and looking for step-by-step guidance for certain issues, or rituals for a sabbat, these could be helpful, or at least give a jumping off point. However, it’s useful to keep in mind that this is not following any specific path within witchcraft – so if you are starting out and want to learn something formalised, this isn’t the book for it. Which is why I say it fails as being an intro to witchcraft: it’s showing you a few spells with no background into the wherefore, no reasoning as to what gives these things the power for this spell. And I feel like that’s because Lister isn’t trying for a tradition-based book, in that she herself works intuitively. So the spellcraft doesn’t really work for me, and I feel like it doesn’t give a firm enough foundation to be considered an introductory book. That being said, it does give just enough information to pique curiosity, so that you may have an idea of where to start further research.

 There is one aspect of Witch that I do find pretty good, which is the constant reiteration of finding your own power and believing yourself and trusting your intuition. This is what I think is the strong point of the book overall – Lister says it’s to help women “reclaim the word ‘witch’”, but witchcraft aside, I definitely feel it’s got some good points about not letting yourself be silenced, and moving into trusting yourself and your ways of knowing.

 BUT.

There is a MAJOR issue that I have with this book, and that is the transphobia and gender essentialism. And this is what, for me, makes it a bad book.

Let me quote a bit for you, from right near the beginning:

“Yet, as I was pulling my pages and pages of handwritten notes… I felt an overwhelming need to apologize for writing a book specifically about women as witches… I’ll piss off the transgender community for not addressing them… That thought? That need to apologize? That’s the very reason why I HAVE to write this book. What I share is NOT intended to exclude others. But trying to be all-inclusive would totally miss the point.” (Witch, pp. xvii-xviii)

Sigh. If you’re going into something with the feeling that you’re being exclusive and need to apologize, maybe that’s a sign to take a step back and look at who you’re excluding and why. If, to you, “the essence of a witch is someone who trusts their inner authority and uses their own personal magic to navigate and negotiate the environment they currently find themselves in” (ibid. p. xix), then why the need to specifically mention that witches power comes from their womb? Why keep bringing it back to “pussy power” and tying everything back to menstrual cycles? Why? And maybe – MAYBE – if there had only been this passing reference in the intro, it could be overlooked. But the references to pussy power, to wombs, tying power to biology, is constant throughout the book:

“Blessed be my womb for being the holy grail, cauldron and keeper of the mysteries.” (p. xxii)

“One sister is chanting the various names given to the Mother God: ‘Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana’ over and over, from deep down in her womb. (p. xxiii)

“There were no fanfares, marching bands or big applause: just pussy-deep truth.” (p. 3)

“You can only find your power when you plug yourself back into the motherboard. When your feet touch Mumma Earth, and your womb and heart connect with her.” (p. 16)

“Generations of women have been disconnected from the power that lies between their thighs – their lady landscape, their womb and their menstrual cycle. They’ve lost connection with their ability to create life (and everything else) in their wombs, which means their minds can be easily manipulated and indoctrinated by Patriarchy.” (p. 75)

I could go on, but believe me when I say this is pervasive throughout the entire book.

You can’t have it both ways. You cannot give an inclusive definition of what you think a witch is, and then go on to say ‘oh, but you’re only a witch if you have this biological aspect’ and venerate that biological aspect in an exclusionary way. This book is either only for AFAB, cis women with fully working parts, or it’s for everyone.

I am a queer, cisgender woman with pretty severe endocrine issues which have basically fucked my reproductive system. The amount of time that Lister spends in this book, talking about how our feminine power comes from this same reproductive system is absolutely distasteful, as well as being reductive and exclusionary. I’ve spent enough of my life feeling useless and not enough, due to my physical issues, that I really don’t need a book about reclaiming my feminine power to ALSO say that my feminine power is rooted in a fundamentally broken part of my body. Yes, the menstrual cycle/organs are powerful and have strong magic, but they are NOT what makes someone a woman. To say that it is not only excludes those who either don’t have or have ill-functioning systems, as well as reducing women to nothing more than their reproductive systems… And isn’t that what Lister’s trying to get away from, what with reclaiming feminine power and blasting the patriarchy?

And if I feel this way? I cannot even imagine what my trans family would feel like, expecting a book on witchcraft and the feminine, only to be told mid-text, that they’re not valid or wanted.

I’m not saying that you can’t write a book about the power inherent in the reproductive systems. But just be sure to make it very clear that that’s what you’re doing. Don’t play coy and hide your TERF views in the text, put them on the cover so we don’t pay money for exclusionary bullshit.

And for further reading:

https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095846595

https://medium.com/@pennyred/terf-wars-why-transphobia-has-no-place-in-feminism-60d3156ad06e

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/pantheon/2011/03/transgender-issues-in-pagan-religions/

https://godsandradicals.org/2016/02/10/its-all-about-sex-feminism-paganism-and-trans-exclusion/

https://www.hercampus.com/school/york-u/women-wicca-transphobia-and-other-issues

[bittysvalentines]

Where the Ocean Meets the Shore

From: @maramcgregor To: @karin848

Kent isn't supposed to swim near the surface, but he's a curious young mer and can't help himself. He falls in love with a human boy and stays at a distance, until he can't stay away any longer. Rating: G, Content Warnings: allusions to homophobia,  Tags: Bitty/Parse, Merperson AU, Mutual Pining, Yearning, Merperson!Kent, Human!Bitty, Magical Fix-It

The rest of his pod would say he didn’t have a single scale of self-preservation in his body. Kent just felt that he had an overabundance of curiosity. They weren’t supposed to go to the surface, particularly near land. But, he was curious. And they were near enough to a small inlet that it wouldn’t be too risky. When Kent breached the surface, he was a mere 50 feet from a wooden structure jutting out into the water. Sitting with his knees tucked to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs was a land boy that must have been a couple of years younger than Kent - assuming that humans aged at the same rate as merpeople.

Kent drifted closer, just barely keeping his eyes above the water. He watched as the boy idly tossed pebbles into the water and stared down at the dark surface. His large brown eyes were red-rimmed and he dragged his forearm across his face, smearing the water dripping down his cheeks. 

Just as Kent got up the courage to open his mouth, a large man came down the hill and out to the boy. “Come to supper, Junior. The rest of the family is waiting on you.”

The boy stood up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

That was the last time Kent saw the boy that year.

* * *

Kent gave up going to the surface to see the boy after 3 months. It was dangerous and his friends in the pod were starting to get suspicious. He had to dodge Jack and Alexei more than once when he went scouting. The other boys were deeply concerned with his afternoon vanishing stunts. 

He wasn’t sure if the land boy that looked so sad would ever come back, but something in his heart hoped he did. And he hoped that the boy looked less sad the next time he saw him. If he ever did.

Finally, a year after first going to the surface and spying on the land people, Kent decided to try again. He had no idea if he would see the boy, Junior, or not. But something deep in his bones drew him back to the surface. Jack and Alexei had stopped watching him like sharks and had relaxed over the intervening months. So, it wasn’t a challenge to sneak off while the other young merpeople were learning about deep ocean currents.

Kent let his eyes barely break the surface, and there, sitting on the edge of the pier was the mysterious boy from last year. He looked sad again, idly tossing pebbles into the ocean, knees tucked up under his chin as he sat curled up into himself. Kent was rarely thankful for his black and silver tail. But, it came in handy when he needed to hide in the shadows.

He swam as close as he dared and watched as the boy mumbled something to himself. It took all of his willpower not to break the surface so close to land and try to listen to what the boy was saying. He knew what he was doing was already dangerous. So, he watched in silence beneath the waves.

That summer, he came back to the pier every day for a week. And finally, the day came when the boy and his family were gone. Kent didn’t go back again that year. But, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away forever. Something about the sad boy drew him in. It was like a missing piece of his soul was calling out, begging to be put back together.

* * *

The years passed and Kent made sure to go back every summer and watch the boy grow up. Some summers, he was happy and played with his family, particularly the younger ones. But, there came a time when the smiles became less frequent and the tears more common. It took everything in Kent’s body to not go to the other boy when he was crying by the ocean. Each year, he came back sadder and sadder, tossing stones into the ocean waves and watching them disappear.

Kent tried to explain the situation to Jack. But, Jack was a pragmatist. And he refused to break the pod’s rules about land people.

“Kenny, how many times have I told you that one of these days you are going to get caught going there. Either by the land people or by the pod. It’s dangerous.”

“You haven’t seen how sad he is. He keeps looking out to the ocean like he would do anything to jump in and just keep swimming.”

“Kenny, it’s not your problem. I know you have gotten attached, but land people cannot be trusted. You need to stop going there and torturing yourself over a land boy that you can never even speak to.”

Kent knew that Jack was being sensible. It was the answer he was supposed to take. But, he couldn’t abandon the boy on the pier. His heart ached every time he cried. And, really, how bad would it be if one land person knew that merpeople were real? After all, it didn’t appear that he had anyone to actually talk to.

He knew he was being ridiculous, but he had to at least try to speak to the boy.

Kent waited in the shallows just below the pier. He made sure to get there while the water was still dark before the sun fully rose over the horizon. He knew he would have several hours to wait before the mysterious, sad land boy would make his way down to the water.  He just had to be patient. It wasn’t really his strong suit, but he was determined to finally have some answers to his questions that had only multiplied in the years that he spent watching from afar.

He lurked for hours under the wooden pier. Finally. Finally, the boy appeared. But, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Then again, Kent wasn’t a boy anymore either. Years had passed and somehow Kent never noticed them until he was faced with them up close. He listened to the young man as he whispered his sorrows to the ocean.

He didn’t really understand why the problems were problems. But it seemed that the young man couldn’t be himself around his family. Kent knew that he had to do something before he ran out of time tonight if he was ever going to stop this aching in his chest.

He screwed up his courage and let himself drift just out from under the pier. “I don’t understand why you are so sad, but maybe it would help if you had someone to talk to?”

In retrospect, Kent figured a random voice coming from the water would scare any sensible land person, but he wasn’t expecting the young man to flail back away from the edge and vanish out of sight further back on the pier. “Crap. I’m not going to hurt you. I just - I was worried?”

Eventually, two large brown eyes peered over the edge back at him. “Who - how? What on Earth?”

“I’m Kent. But, you can call me Kenny if you like. I’ve been listening to you and I have to admit that I don’t really understand why you are so sad, but sometimes talking to someone else can help? I usually tell all my problems to my friends and they do a really good job of telling me to make good decisions.”

“Does it work?”

Kent smiled. “Nope. Not at all. I shouldn’t be here, but I feel like I need to know you.”

They talked deep into the night. Bitty explained the hatred he faced from his family, the disappointment from his father, and the constant, never ending loneliness he lived with. Kent listened and nodded. He wasn’t sure why anyone would treat a family member poorly for loving someone of the same gender, but he supposed it was a land people thing that he would never truly be able to understand.

Kent showed his tail to the first land person he had ever spoken to and preened when Bitty gushed over how shiny his scales were. He always thought he was drab in comparison to Jack’s beautiful blue and yellow or Jeff’s bright red with black markings. But, Bitty assured him that black and silver complemented his skin tone well and that it looked very pretty in the moonlight. Kent couldn’t stop a blush from blossoming over his cheeks. He also couldn’t stop the crush that was forming right that very moment.

* * *

Two more years passed and the ache was still there. Kent still felt drawn to the surface every time Bitty was nearby. He spent that one blissful week in the summer talking to him and learning about his life. And somehow along the way, Kent’s bizarre obsession turned into something more.

“You are not letting this go, are you Kenny?”

“Alexei -”

Alexei sighed and swam over close to Kent. “You are wanting to save your human from land. Is he wanting the same?”

Kent was quiet for a moment, remembering the lost look in Bitty’s eyes as he gazed out over the ocean. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Is not easy thing you want to do. But, maybe come speak to my babushka. There is old family story from before we came to this pod. From back when we lived in the White Sea. Maybe you should hear it.”

Kent followed Alexei back to the caves where the pod slept safely at night. They meandered through the tunnels and eventually wound their way to the section where Alexei’s immediate family stayed. The elderly mermaid that was Alexei’s babushka didn’t leave the cave system often. It was dangerous for a mer of such advanced age in the open ocean where she didn’t have the ability to see too far around her, nor the speed to escape immediate danger. 

“Babushka, I brought my friend, Kenny. He is having questions about -”

“Ah, the fickle mer who likes to go to surface.”

Kent’s jaw dropped and stared aghast at the elderly mermaid. “I - I -”

“Tsk. I know the feeling. You are drawn to surface, yes?”

Kent hesitated a moment before replying quietly, “Yes.”

“Hm. I remember what it was like. You feel like your soul is split in two and the missing piece isn’t in the ocean where it belongs.”

Kent drifted forward, his entire being needing to hear more.

“It is because you are meant for the one you are drawn to. And they are separated by sea and land. Have you spoken to them, yet?”

Kent nodded weakly. “Yes.”

Alexei covered his mouth in shock. “You spoke to the land boy?”

His babushka waved him off, seemingly unconcerned. “I am not surprised. It was same with your dedushka. I could not stay away. He longed for the ocean. And I longed for him. You have heard the story.”

“Yes. But, he never spoke of being on land.”

“Because he was dead there and alive here. There was no point in looking back. Our pod in Russia was not happy with what I had done. They made us leave.” She stared into Kent’s eyes. “You are willing to risk everything for this land boy?”

Kent leaned forward and nodded fervently. “Please.”

Alexei’s babushka opened a large clam shell. Inside rested a glimmering moonstone pendant. “You take this necklace and lay it on the beach or on some rocks and let it charge in the light of full moon. When it shines with the brightness of the moon, place it back in the shell and keep it closed until you see your land boy again. Have him place it around his neck. He must jump into the water and dive deep enough that no light can reach him. When the moonstone is the only light touching him, he will change and become a mer. You will have to hold him down. Land people will fight to get to the air no matter how much they want to stay under. Once they have changed, they can never go back to the land. They will be just as much a mer as you or I. Can you do that?” 

Kent stared at the moonstone necklace and nodded. He wouldn’t force the decision on Bitty, but he could at least give him the choice. He wasn’t sure if he could hold him down as he struggled for air, but if Bitty decided that’s what he wanted, he would do his best.

* * *

“Bitty, come with me. I promise you’ll be happy.”

“How? I can’t breathe underwater, Kenny.”

Kent gripped Bitty’s hand tight and stared directly into his eyes. “If I could give you a tail, make you a mer, would you do it?”

“At what cost? I’m not stupid. Every fairytale I’ve ever seen is clear. Magic always has a price. If it costs your well-being, I don’t want it. If it means that I can never see you again, I don’t want it. I’d rather have these few days a year than lose you for some magical fix.”

Kent played with the moonstone pendant, twining the chain around his fingers. “The price is your life on land. You can never see your family again.”

“What?”

Kent laid the pendant on the pier. “This pendant can turn you into a mer. Forever. I charged it on the last full moon and kept it concealed. If you put it on and dive into the ocean, you will change.”

“What about the never coming back to land part?”

Kent solemnly looked up at Bitty. “You have to go deep enough in the ocean that no light but the pendant’s can touch you. Then, you will change. Once you are a mer, you can never go back to land. Land people cannot know we exist.”

Bitty stared back in vague horror. “I - what?”

“That’s the price. Your life on land for your life in the ocean.”

Bitty took the pendant from Kent’s fingers and inspected it for any sign that it was more than just a pretty rock. “Can I think about it?”

Kent nodded and held out the shell container. “Place it back in the clam shell so that it doesn’t lose its charge. If you decide to use it, do so at night so that you don’t have to go down as deep. I will stay close by, just in case.”

Bitty nodded and carefully closed the shell around the pendant. “I promise I’ll think about it.” He leaned back and then seemed to think better of it. “Kenny, would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Kent pulled himself as far out of the water as he was able, supporting all of his weight on his arms. “I’d like that.”

It was wet, salty, and rather quick, but Kent felt like an electric eel had shocked him down to the tips of his fluke. 

Bitty blushed high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I’ll let you know.”

Kent let himself drift to the bottom of the ocean floor, the after effects of the kiss still pounding in his ears. He was an infatuated fool and he couldn’t care less, until the next day came and there was no sign of Bitty. Nor the day after that. Nor the day after that.

Kent felt sick. He supposed it was a good sign that Bitty had not returned. Maybe he had resolved his problems with his family. Maybe he didn’t need the escape of the ocean anymore. And then a dark voice whispered in his head that maybe it was Kent himself that Bitty didn’t want and the kiss was out of pity. But, he was stubborn. He would stick it out until Bitty and his family left. Then he would go back and wallow in his misery and never leave babushka’s cave again.

The last night of Bitty’s time at the shore came. Kent stayed well beneath the surface and sulked. Then, something changed. Cautiously, he poked his head above the dark water and heard distant yelling. A figure dashed down the sloping yard and hit the pier at a full sprint, diving straight into the ocean.

Kent didn’t waste any time and swam directly for him. Bitty had the moonstone pendant around his neck and swam down as hard as he could, but the water this close to shore was too shallow. Kent, grabbed his arm and pulled him to the surface. “If you want this, we have to go further out. Hold on to me.”

Bitty wrapped his arms around Kent’s neck, soft sobs wracking his body. “I told them. I finally told them I was gay. They couldn’t - they said -”

Kent shushed him. “It doesn’t matter what they said. Your family is here, with me, and soon the pod. You’ll see. Take one last breath. I’ll pull you down.”

Bitty gasped his last breath of air with his lungs and let Kent pull him deep under the waves into the darkness. The moonstone gleamed in the dark. Just as Bitty started to scramble against Kent’s grip for air, the moonstone flashed and his pants ripped apart as his legs fused into a tail with beautiful red scales and white speckles. Gills opened along his sides and water flooded in and filled his blood with much needed oxygen. It was done.

Kent gazed in awe at the brand new mer in front of him. Bitty leaned in and they shared another kiss, this one deep and soul-wrenching. Finally, Kent felt at peace and Bitty was happy.

[letters-from-the-three-houses]

I IMPLORE YOU FOR THAT CLAUDE/ANNETTE ESSAY! P-Please senpai~ uwu

*kicks down door* IS THAT SOMEONE ASKING FOR THE CLAUNETTE ESSAY I SEE??

WELL THEN, LET’S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD

warning: this is long. this is really, really long. like 3.5k words long. i don’t have a proper tl;dr for it because there’s too much going on, so it’s fine if you don’t want to read it! it just talks about why i think claude and annette click super well together

edit: aaaand the read more doesn’t work again;; yikes i’m so sorry about all these long posts, everyone!

edit2: read more works again!! it’s now under the cut

first, we’ll take a look at their profiles as a refresher (many thanks to vincent and the serenes gang!)

annette’s japanese profile talks about how she’s chipper, diligent, and very smart. she seems sweet and friendly, thanking byleth for their advice and calling mercedes by a cute nickname. plus, she’s lively and energetic because she speaks with a lot of exclamation marks!

“she can often waste her energy and end up nowhere” comes from karamawari (空回り), which loosely translates to the idiom “spinning one’s wheels”. in other words, she’s a genius oddball. i don’t think it’s in the sense that she’s ditzy and all over the place so she makes mistakes all the time, but that she’s wickedly creative and her ideas fail because they’re so left-field. like she thinks so far out of the box that she ends up in a completely different neighbourhood

the uk one (here) says she has “a reputation for being a bit oblivious at times”. it’s…pretty vague bc we don’t know what exactly she’s oblivious to, but it implies that she either a) has a one-tracked mind, b) can’t read the room, c) is unaware of herself, d) comes up with weird conclusions, or e) all of the above

i also think she’s pretty transparent, if this exaggerated expression of hers is any indication that she wears her heart on her sleeve

now onto claude! he’s also nice!! fun, easygoing, and always equipped with a smile. but, as i always like to call him, he’s a smart cookie and is very cunning! it’s hard to say if “someone unable to trust” means he has a hard time trusting others or if others shouldn’t trust him, but either way, it seems apt to call him crafty, clever, and ingenious. his uk profile (here) also mentions that “he sometimes shows a side that you can’t let your guard down around”. a lot of his quotes thus far make him sound carefree and witty (“my family’s the head of the leicester alliance, but eh, no need to worry about that"—thanks for the translation, satsuma!—and the class reunion bit in the latest e3 trailer), which supports his personality quite nicely

at first glance, they have a lot of similarities. they’re both outgoing, peppy, and smart. so they’re not really an ‘opposites attract’ pair, but birds of a feather do flock together. their friendly personalities make it much more likely for them to interact despite being in different houses, and it would surely help them get along. i can imagine them greeting each other as they pass by the hallways it also means i don’t have to make up a contrived situation of how these two meet because as much as i’d love to come up with a case for bernadetta/dedue, they would probably never talk to each other unless they have to

so it looks like they can be friends! or at least, cordial acquaintances. their personalities don’t clash too violently that they would hate each other, which is the fundamental basis of every good relationship

but then why do i think they’d be good for each other?? why can’t i just say it’s a nice broship and call it a day?? why do i feel the need to make this my game otp (and it’s slowly inching there) despite the high chance that they won’t have supports together?????

to answer that question, we’ll have to delve into the few opposites that they do have:

annette’s oddball-ness + claude’s intuition

let’s be real here, claude could probably cold read you like a pro. one glance is all he needs to get a sense of who you are, what you’re thinking, and what you’re going to do. this would be especially obvious with consistent, rational people like edelgard or dimitri; he can predict their moves because they’re meticulous and routine-based folks

annette, on the other hand, is a curveball

now don’t get me wrong—her thoughts are easy. her emotions? child’s play. the real question is what she’s going to do

…because what is she doing?

he’d be able to get a sense of what she’s planning, sure, but annette is weird. and unexpected. and unconventional

her actions aren’t going to be surprising; after all, it’s clear to see what she’s thinking. for example, if she somehow broke ingrid’s favourite teacup, the guilt would be obvious to anyone around. the shifty eyes, the shuffling of her feet, the panic that sets in once she sees ingrid in the distance. what would she do about it? probably fix it. she’s a nice girl who doesn’t want her friends to be sad. reasonably, she might try to piece the broken bits together or buy something from town that looks similar

so when he catches her asking around if there’s anyone who could teach her the art of glassmaking, he almost bursts out laughing and gives away his hiding spot

he lets his presence be known anyway because this looks hilarious

when he walks into the room, annette—and byleth, who she’d been talking with—gives him a surprised look, but he holds his hands up in defense and says he’s here to help

byleth will try to get him to convince her not to make the teacup herself

annette will insist she has to do it in order to make up for her mistakes

and if claude asks why she believes she has to—to show her full sincerity? was the teacup that unique? does she want to learn because it seems fun?—she’ll tilt her head and say, “if i learn how to do it, then i won’t have to bother anyone if i break ingrid’s cups again”

that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but that makes it all the more amusing bc he was wrong (plus, she fully expects herself to break the cups a second time instead of being more careful in the future?? annette why—)

and while her failed attempts in glassmaking are also pretty funny, watching her do her best despite the setbacks is a bit endearing

this goes on constantly—annette getting into trouble and claude being entertained by her antics. in other words, claude would think she’s fun to be around because he can never truly guess what’s going on in annette’s head (he’ll get better at it eventually, but she’ll still catch him off guard every so often and keep him on his toes), and annette faces a dilemma like every other day so there’s no shortage of good times when he’s with her

on the other hand, annette would appreciate having a translator. she already has one in mercie, but another one wouldn’t hurt! especially since mercedes is more of the encouraging type while claude just seems to know what she’s trying to say

she’ll flounder about, trying to explain whatever ‘thing’ she’s describing this time because her words run quicker than her thoughts

“magical overuse makes me keel over because it feels like i can’t breathe anymore and the pain just concentrates at your core and i don’t know the term but i know i know it because it’s on the tip of my tongue and—”

mercie will say, “take a deep breath, ann. parse it slowly”

and claude chips in to help: “it’s like a punch to the gut”

“yes!! that!!!”

so while mercie is patient with her weirdness, claude always seems to know the right thing to say and do, making conversations with him much more smoother than with most people

she makes a vague statement like “it was pretty good today. i kinda wonder how they did it”

and without missing a beat, he’ll reply, “you mean the meatloaf we had for dinner? yeah, i thought dorothea and professor did a great job. you should ask them for the recipe”

“i should! great idea”

he still gets it wrong a lot of the time though

“he’s really prickly,” annette will say. “i wonder if he hates me”

“felix?”

“oh! no, no, i was talking about the cat that hangs around near the gardens. but what you said is true too. do you think he does?”

“the cat—no, he’s like that to everyone. felix—maybe. the stableboy who ignored you just now as you tried to wave at him—he didn’t notice so don’t feel bad about it”

other people listening in will get lost about thirty seconds into the conversation because it feels all over the place and random, but mercie is delighted that there’s someone else that understands annette

so yay! now they seem like good friends instead of having a casual ‘hey, i know you. i see you around sometimes’ relationship, which we can only keep building up the more they get to know each other!

their levels of trust

okay, i know this sounds cheesy but hear me out

we’ve already established that annette looks like a bad liar. the type that’s diddly darn horrible at poker. when she’s happy, you can tell she’s happy. sad? sad. angry? well, she isn’t angry often but you get the idea

so if something is troubling her, it’ll show on her face

and claude, being the curious boy he is, will ask her what’s wrong

her eyes will widen and she’ll say, “was it that obvious??”, but she won’t actually need any prompting and tells him her problems right away bc a) “i can’t hide anything from you”, b) “you give great advice”, and c) “you really get me!”

the last one’s important

you see, claude gets everyone. he doesn’t even have to ask what’s wrong—he probably already knows. but he asks anyway because you can’t have a conversation without two people talking (and maybe he could glean some more information about it that he isn’t aware of, who knows)

however, from the get go, sweet little annette was always truthful. was always sincere. she’s not the type who’ll say “i’m okay”, all the while plastering a fake smile on their face. annette is consistent. what she says she’s feeling is the same as what her expressions show

in other words, she doesn’t hide secrets. that’s what makes her special

claude is an expert in secrets. he snuffs them out in others so he can figure out their real intentions, and he hides some secrets himself. annette though? annette’s genuine. it’s straightforward with her

if it’s like this, it doesn’t even matter what the “someone unable to trust” in claude’s profile means. distrust doesn’t exist when he’s with annette. she’s unambiguous. she isn’t two-faced. there’s no need for him to figure out the underlying meaning in her words because there are none. and claude, for all intents and purposes, has the confidence that he can trust her even if he doesn’t

her guard when she’s around him is down

he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s trying to gain his favour or wants something in return. annette doesn’t want any of that. she just talks because claude asked her a question and she wants to answer it

she hangs out with him just because she likes to hang out with him

she’s his friend just because she wants to be

she has no ulterior motives

for claude, it’s a breath of fresh air

on annette’s side, it’s hard to pry about claude’s private life. whenever he asks, he gives her a vague answer and deflects it with a question. he never lies to her, but he never tells her the full truth

if she says she’s not curious about it, she’d be lying (and claude would know; he’d see it in her eyes). so whenever he avoids the question, she’ll be a bit dejected, but she won’t pry and move on to something else. they never linger on the subject too long

the curiosity is still there though. whenever he gives the slightest hint of any of his preferences (“i think the orange flowers suit your hair”), she perks up and smiles. she never asks him to divulge any more than he wants to because she’s not going to force him to overshare, so the little things that she does find out makes her happy enough. there’s no need to know his backstory—she trusts him now. as long as she does, whatever happened in his past or history won’t change who he is

after all, claude doesn’t lie to her. sure he’s not entirely honest, but she knows that whatever he says comes from the heart—even if it withholds quite a lot of information

here, at this point, annette is really good for claude. she makes him feel simple. like he doesn’t have to hide anything. it’s a rather nice feeling

but currently, the dynamics in their relationship are skewed, with annette giving more than she takes. claude doesn’t reciprocate the trust and continues to keep his cards close, while annette lays them all on the table. the only way their relationship can reach an equilibrium is if claude becomes honest with annette

i think in any claude relationship, that’s the end point: claude being honest. and not in the way that he already is—that is, his vague but truthful answers—but that he can say what he hasn’t

i remember there was one theory that claude’s character arc involves him learning to trust people. can annette get him to do this? i think so! she only wants what’s best for her friends so she wouldn’t force claude to tell her anything he doesn’t want to. she’ll still be there for him, talking and listening and having fun together until he’s ready. the question then becomes: would he ever be willing to tell her?

claude works hard but annette works harder

i do have a basis for why i think annette can somehow get over claude’s high trust hurdle, and that’s her perseverance

despite her constant mishaps and misfortunes, annette still passed the mage academy with excellent grades. why? because she never gave up. because despite the setbacks, she continued to try and try and try. and yay! her hard work paid off!

if we translate that to her relationships, it means she’d never give up on her friends. even if they try to push her away, try to make her hate them, try to stop being her friend—she won’t

so no matter what claude does, she’ll stick by his side. he’s not getting rid of her, that’s for sure. if he refuses to tell her everything—if he never tells her at all—annette will still be there, being annette, and being on his side even if he doesn’t trust her as much as she trusts him

i can see that faith of hers eventually wearing down his defenses. it’s just so freeing being with her; claude doesn’t have to pretend

and it becomes a nice conclusion to his character arc. he doesn’t bury the hatchet, doesn’t hide his skeletons in the closet. he gets catharsis and closure, and during all of his confessions, annette holds his hand and listens intently. she doesn’t run away afterwards. she doesn’t shy away from disgust

all she says is: “can i hug you?”

and when she does, it’s like all of his worries melt away

once this is all said and done, claude becomes much, much more open with her. he tells her everything and doesn’t have to fear being judged for it. like this, their relationship becomes balanced again

claude becomes good for her because he helps her improve herself. he doesn’t limit her weird thinking—in fact, he encourages it. by supporting her in all of her endeavours and being able to understand it, making sure her ideas run smoothly, he allows annette to discover even more ingenious solutions and lets her creativity have free rein. they’d be really good partners on a research team; annette comes up with the plans/a new scope to focus their field of study on as well as doing the literature search and reading up on a lot of journals in order to synthesize new ideas, claude irons them out and implements them all the while checking up on annette to make sure if she’s got any new input, rinse, repeat, they get an a+ on their graduate thesis

so here are my final remarks! this pairing doesn’t even have to be romantic to me (i just like romance because i’m a weakling). they just mesh together perfectly that i think they’re soul mates—if they have each other in their lives, they can develop themselves to new heights and eventually reach self-actualization. i don’t know?? i just think they cover each others strengths and weaknesses so well that they’ll be…happy with each other. and if they’re happy, i’m happy

to end off this post with a bang, here are some claunette au fic ideas i have for the soul:

'help i’m in love with my next door neighbour because whenever i take out the trash they’re there as well and they have the prettiest smile so i can’t help but swoon every time i see them but whenever i tell everyone that my favourite day is garbage day they look at me weirdly and they just don’t understand’ au

'you lost your dog and found him running around me in circles and apologized profusely but when you tried to get him to leave he whined and sat on my feet and i don’t know why but i think he likes me??’ au

'you left your usb plugged into one of the computers in the library and i was looking through some of the documents to find out your personal information and i realized that you took a class that i previously did and your ta is the same stupid one that marked mine way too low so when i came to give it back to you i offered to tutor you for free so i could be avenged’ au

'out of the one hundred and fifty students in this course you were the only one that bothered to answer my desperate plea of needing lecture notes on the classroom discussion board so thank you i owe you my life can i buy you a coffee?’ au

'you’re the barista of some cafe that i frequently go to and i have a crush on you because you’re super cute so my friends are embarrassing me by asking you all sorts of personal questions and i don’t know what to think about you flirting with me over the counter whenever i order cheesecake’ au

'i got lost from my tour group while sightseeing but you seem like a nice and friendly native so do you mind if i tag along with you to visit the nooks and crannies of the city while i wait for my friends to come get me?’ au

'i have to get off the bus because it’s my stop but you’re sleeping on my shoulder right now even though i don’t know who you are so i’m not sure if i should wake you up or just keep letting you sleep and—welp, there goes my house i guess i’ll just get off at the terminal station’ au

'i’m a human being hunted down by an elder vampire for who knows what and you just so happen to be a vampire hunter so please let me stay with you i don’t want to die’ au

'i’m a magician that has to fill their daily curse quota of the year and you just so happened to stumble into my line of sight in my time of need but i don’t want to curse you because you seem really nice but my job is on the line here so i’m sorry but i’ll find your true love so you can stop being a frog’ au

[madscientistjournal]

Fiction: Tempo Rubato

An essay by an unnamed musician, as provided by Jonathan Danz Art by Errow Collens

Tonight, backstage is too hot, too dark, too much like some high-ceilinged mausoleum straight out of one of those old Friday night TV horror shows. The strap of my dinged-up Telecaster bites into my shoulder. Tonight, like most nights in recent memory, this guitar is like my very own stone of Sisyphus. Truth be told, I don’t know if I can roll it up the mountain one more fucking time. I don’t know if I can go out on stage yet again and pretend I’m me.

Vegas–swarm cams, drinkbots, holo-betting, omni-feeds, every last bit of it–can go to hell. The guy on stage now, the Buddy Holly impersonator, even with his bitglam in effect, comes off more like an impersonator of a Buddy Holly impersonator. He’s opening with “Peggy Sue.” Poor bastard. There’s nowhere to go from there but downhill.

Everyone’s an entertainer these days, what with voice plugins, appearance modifiers, movement enhancer neuro-mods, and every other trick. There’s no work at the art anymore, just show up and let the tech do the work.

Me and my new band, we’re the only completely analog performers in Vegas. Re-Invaded And It Feels So Good, that’s our act. Real clever stuff. The crowds eat it up. It’s fresh, in a manner of speaking, especially after seeing a hundred enhanced shows in a hundred casinos. After a while, it all blurs together.

I know, I know, that’s what they said when we were all flooding into the U.S. during the British Invasion. I’m a connoisseur of irony. But when something stands out from the pop-star one-offs and Rat Pack 3.0 crooners, people take notice. People don’t know they’re craving something different until they get it.

These Vegas performers could stand a lesson in “less is more,” but instead they’re all in on everything. All that tech must seem like magic to these fools, but tech ain’t magic. Believe me, I know from magic. Not like this Buddy Holly guy.

Look, I liked Buddy Holly back in the day–we all did–but that sound aged about as well as a bottle of piss. When you hear it, you know exactly when it came out. It never evolved. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if his plane hadn’t crashed.

Sometimes I wonder if Buddy wasn’t the lucky one.

~

It was the 1960s, and the Beatles exploded out of Liverpool with us right on their heels, and the British Invasion was on. The money began rolling in free and easy like juice through a Marshall stack. In a move that would become the hallmark of making it in rock and roll, I bought a posh estate in the English countryside.

That’s where we were between tours in ’70. One night, December 11–Christ, you’d think I’d forget after so long, but the memory is like tough old scar tissue that’ll never go away–anyway, we were in the studio, turning a three minute song into something epic. I dove into my solo, weaving amplified heat through drums and base and rhythm guitar, stitching it all together at first. Then I began teasing strands out into the dark corners of sound. My fingers slipped and slid high on the fretboard. My guitar wailed and moaned with an urgency I could feel. I raced out ahead of the rhythm, then eased back into the mix by turns. I scooped time from some measures and poured it into others. The world around me wobbled and shimmered.

By the time the cops barged in, I was fully lost in the solo. It was as if someone had accidentally stuck a needle in my artery and my life was spraying out everywhere. It wasn’t blood, though, dig? I swear it was life itself flowing from me, streaming into my mates. Everyone was higher than an old vicar’s waistband. The cops’ shouting tore it all down and the music collapsed. I was wasted, could barely stand.

The cops’ arrival probably saved me, but all they saw was some weed, some pills, and whatever, and that’s all they needed to know. They grabbed their headlines for busting some punk kids who’ve risen far too high, and I grabbed some jail time. Prison was no great shakes, but there was something about the monotony of the routine. It freed up time to think. And I had a lot to think about.

~

Vegas Buddy Holly slides smoothly into “Rollercoaster.” It’s a checklist for him: hit this note, do that hiccup thing, take three steps. Technically, it’s perfect, but there’s no love for the music, no heat. Choosing to impersonate Buddy Holly is purely mercenary. He’s found a niche and it pays. It’s calculated. And I’ve got to tell you, hearing exactly the same thing done exactly the same way night after night gets tiresome.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the music itself; I feel like I could play forever. It’s everything else. Some might say the world has passed me by, but I’d argue it’s the people who flock to this place on the regular who are being passed by. Was a time when people would spend hours parsing song lyrics or album cover art. Now everything wheels by like startled birds, gone in an instant, replaced by the latest streaming shows or VR episode or vending machine stimdrugs. We’re so fixated on what’s coming next, we can’t enjoy whatever it is we’re consuming right then and there.

The marketers’ll tell you their latest con expands the mind and taps into unexplored landscapes of the imagination. Rubbish. It’s about making money. It’s always about making money. Just ask ol’ Buddy Holly on stage there.

The guys in my band are no different. Sure, they tolerate the analog sets, occasionally even enjoy themselves when they’re not thinking about it. But they’re just gigging with me to pay the bills while they seek online stardom. That’s where the real money is, even if the odds are so long they stretch well beyond the horizon. They just need one video to virus out, and they’ll have it made.

I hear you, telling me to fuck right the hell off. I made my money, so why shouldn’t they make theirs, right? I say, have at it. There’s no magic there. You want magic? Strip it all down, get rid of the enhancements. Focus on the music, the guitar strings beneath your fingers, the vibrations of your vocal cords, the buzz of a packed venue. If you let yourself fall deep enough, you’ll find the space between it all.

You’d think songs almost a hundred years old would lose their luster, but that ain’t so. There’s that quote about not being the same person who crossed the river the first time or some shit. There’s truth there. Songs are like rivers, always changing, waiting to show you something new, if you’re willing to look. That’s why I hang around, every single day and twice on Saturdays.

~

After the bust, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at that rehearsal. I needed to know what that was. As a band, we were looking forward, working on new songs, planning new tours, finding new ways to spend our windfall. But as an individual, I’d decided to look backwards as well.

I searched for answers in the deep, slippery roots of music, looking for the faintest whiff of anything even remotely like what happened the night of the bust. Whenever we hit a new city, I scoured libraries and bookstores and pored over rare tomes, letters, and sheet music for something like magic.

Then I found tempo rubato.

Now, I know you’re thinking of that Styx song about the robot. That was Japanese. Tempo rubato is Italian, mate.

The definition of tempo rubato in music texts refers to, and I quote, “the slight speeding up and then slowing down of the tempo of a piece at the discretion of the soloist or the conductor to be more expressive.”

But here’s the thing, Tempo rubato isn’t just an Italian term on some sheet music like sotto voce or fortissimo or any of that lot. Now I had no idea if the concept originated in Italy or not, but the Italians nailed the naming of whatever this phenomenon is.

In Italian, tempo rubato means stolen time.

As a musical cue, that was all fine and well, but I was positive there was more to it than that. Slowing down, speeding up, everything I’d been doing that night, it was all there.

I began playing around on stage, messing around in subtle ways with what almost killed me the night of the bust, learning, refining. I did it carefully until I unpacked tempo rubato and put it to work for me. I pilfered small bits of time so as not to cause harm and, as much as we played, the stolen time accumulated like the juice on a mob loan.

~

We’re a long way from Vegas, now, aren’t we? What does this have fuckall to do with tech enhancements and swarm bots and flash androgynous technicians? Well, hang tight, bruv, I’m getting to that. Besides, Buddy Holly’s got one more song yet.

He launches into “That’ll Be the Day.” When he hits the chorus, like he does every night, I can’t help but think that maybe in some alternate universe I’m dead, and he’s here in Vegas in real life, the original watching some mercenary performer imitate me.

“That’ll be the day that I die,” Buddy sings. Well, the real Buddy Holly boarded a plane that flew him right into his grave at the tender age of 22. And, despite the booze, the drugs, and other depredations of the body, here I am still going strong well beyond my expiration date. Is it fair? That’s not for me to say, but I’m fully aware of the irony.

The ubiquitous “they” insist everything that’s old is new again and I’m inclined to agree. Maybe that’s true, but it’s a cycle, ain’t it, which bloody well means everything that’s new becomes old again as well.

I think about all those musicians who hung around too long. I’d need more fingers than I’ve got to count everyone who couldn’t let it go, guys who wished they headed out at the top of their game, leaving the fans wanting more.

But damn if every time I hit that first chord on stage, I’m not transported back to our first live gig in Coogan’s Pub in Dartford. Now there’s a magic all its own, you know? Throw in the fans and the applause, and small wonder musicians can’t let it go.

What I miss, though, what has me in this funk, is that I’ve got no one to share any of this with. Everyone’s gone. What’s the use of hanging around as long as I have if you can’t share the honest-to-god artistry?

There are days I’m aware the only person I’m really playing for is myself, searching the music for ghosts of the long-gone boys who crossed the Atlantic and got rich with me. There are days I wonder if stealing time during all those tours with them might have hastened their respective ends. Shit, we were all getting older. People just age differently, right?

I search through the music. Maybe some combination of sound will bring them back, but inevitably the ghosts are always just out of reach. I’ve seen musicians wind up searching elsewhere, the needle or the booze or something just as deadly even though we know whatever it is we need isn’t there at all. And sometimes you don’t even know you need anything at all until you’re shown otherwise.

~

Inside some nondescript sound studio in Memphis in the late ’20s, I was waiting to record an interview for some classic rock retrospective podcast. At least I think they were still calling what we did way back when “classic.” The host was explaining to an angsty lad on the sound crew what vibe he needed and who I was.

But damn if every time I hit that first chord on stage, I’m not transported back to our first live gig in Coogan’s Pub in Dartford.

“Seriously?” the angsty lad asked. “I thought that guy died years ago.” No embarrassment. No apology. Just a statement of fact with perhaps the smallest hint of a question or accusation in his tone. That’s when I realized I couldn’t keep on as myself forever. No matter how good I felt, no matter how I looked, someone would do the math and start asking questions I had no intention of answering.

And so I did the only thing that made sense: I disappeared to sort things out. For a few decades, I traveled to places where people had no idea who I was. For a while, it wasn’t so bad, the newness of it, you know. I tried out things I couldn’t do when we were touring, things like gardening and painting and woodworking, whatever struck my fancy.

Even as I did these things, in the need was always there, waiting. I told myself it was just the music I needed, just the feel of the guitar in my hands, the heat of the stage lights, the cheering crowds. I mean, the music was definitely part of it, but I missed what I was able to do with the music even more. I needed tempo rubato.

What better place to resurface than Vegas, the impersonator capital of the world? If I couldn’t be me, at least I could pretend to be me. I mean, I had me down pretty good.

~

Buddy Holly wraps up with a deep cut, one of his b-sides that has surprising layers. Something about this song appeals to Buddy. I can tell, because he loses himself in it. He’s so close to touching the music and doesn’t even know. The crowd applauds just enough to encourage Buddy Holly to do an encore.

Buddy Holly launches into a respectable version of “Not Fade Away.” Huh. Normally he trots out a tired medley of songs that roll into that other song that’s not by Buddy Holly but about Buddy Holly, when his plane crashed, and the music died, and all that. Tonight, Buddy Holly’s veering off script.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

One more song to figure out how I’m going to break it to the band. Since I returned to Vegas–what has it been, 30, 40 years?–I’ve asked myself why I keep going so many times it feels like a vocation unto itself. If there’s an answer to that question, I’ll be damned if I know what it is. Now’s as good a time as any to call it quits.

“Hey, Billy,” I say to my bassist.

He turns to me and raises his eyebrows in question.

Time to tell the crew tonight is the night I stop, but the words die in my throat just as Buddy Holly strums the last chord of his encore.

The applause for Buddy Holly packs more punch this time around, there’s real enthusiasm behind it. Buddy comes off stage. His bitglam distorts and winks off. Bruv looks tired, but he’s smiling.

We nod at each other.

That simple gesture is like a smack upside my head. It’s straight out of those days right before the British Invasion, back when we were just one of a hundred bands were trying to make it. Yeah, we hated each other, but there was some measure of respect for the fact we were all chasing the same thing. There’s a camaraderie that comes from mutual suffering.

Maybe I’ve been too hard on ol’ Buddy.

Then the host is announcing us to the crowd. Cheers and stomping feet shake the building. The crowd is as amped as I’ve ever heard it. That sound … that sweet, goddamned sound washes over us. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands at attention, expectant. My heart thrills and prances inside my chest. A smile spreads of its own accord across my face.

Billy smiles the same me. He’s feeling it too. “What were you going to say?”

My guitar feels lighter, and the only thing on my mind is strumming that first chord. “Forget it,” I say.

Billy’s no longer the fresh-faced kid I brought in to hold down the beat a few months ago, but that’s what the business does to a musician, isn’t it? The pull of the stage and the lights are like an old friend’s arm around my shoulder, warm and comforting.

A British Invasion musician learns the secret to rock on for evermore, but after outliving his mates and winding up as an impersonator of himself in Vegas, he wonders if it’s time to hang it up.

Jonathan Danz is a speculative fiction writer living in West Virginia with his wife, daughter, and cat, all of whom are artists in their own right. He attended Viable Paradise 21 and narrates for various science fiction, fantasy, and horror podcasts. He likes books, bikes, and beer.

Errow is a comic artist and illustrator with a predilection towards mashing the surreal with the familiar. They pay their time to developing worlds not quite like our own with their fiancee and pushing the queer agenda. They probably left a candle burning somewhere. More of their work can be found at errowcollins.wix.com/portfolio.

“Tempo Rubato” is © 2019 Jonathan Danz Art accompanying story is © 2019 Errow Collins

Fiction: Tempo Rubato was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

[taggianto]

The Aces Charity Carnival

Ladies and gentleman, step right up! It’s time for the annual Las Vegas Aces Charity Carnival!

Born from spitballing in the Parse Posi Posse discord. Love to @rushingsnowy (Linnea) and beaniebaneenie (CJ) for cheerleading and helping with this, and love to the rest of the Posse for all their support and awesomeness in general!

Suddenly I have the image of the Aces doing some sort of fundraiser with a dunk tank and everyone on the team signing up so they can dunk Carl

And like, it's outside in Las Vegas and normally it would be like, super hot so getting dunked in a tub full of water would be a good thing? Except it's stupidly unseasonably cold the day of the fundraiser so by the end of his shift Carl is shivering and his lips may or may not be blue from it

And then it's Kent's turn and everyone who signs up misses on purpose.

Jeff has a line a mile long while he's in the kissing booth.

Mostly because he's out at this point so there's both men and women lined up to kiss him

Kent gets in line with the guise of it being "for charity" but really he just wants to be able to kiss his boyfriend in public with a layer of plausible deniability

Scrappy is actually really good at face painting? So he spends the whole time painting kids faces with Aces logos and butterflies and sharks and abusing his glitter spray liberally

So what if each booth is for a different charity. Like the kissing booth is for HIV testing, the dunk tank is for well drilling in impoverished countries, the face painting is for art education... and each Ace is sponsoring one of the booths and matching all donations by 500%

CJ: What if the only person who dunks Kent is Bitty, because he wanted to see Kent with a wet t-shirt

But it's okay because it's at the end of his shift and then Jeff is there with a big fluffy towel to get him all dry

Jack is super awkward at this whole carnival thing. But he and Kent have started talking again and Kent had invited him and it was the offseason so he really didn't have an excuse....

He asks for a hockey stick at the face painting booth and scrappy paints a super glittery butterfly on him instead because he's still a little petty about how much his Captain got hurt by this guy

Jeff scolds him later because liking butterflies as a guy isn't a bad thing and shouldn't be used as a method of humiliating someone but at the same time he's like but for real I get you, bro

Jeff's just like "next time just like, paint that the Aces are better than the Falcs and then get that shit on insta."

CJ: ....what if Jack offers to get in the dunk tank (also matching donations?)

Bitty talks him into this because the only thing better than jack in a tshirt is jack in a wet tshirt Bitty has a Thing okay?

Linnea: are bitty and jack out in this? does the media latch onto pictures of sparkly butterfly on jack's face and go 'this gay pro athlete out here, being gay' and jack's like 1) i just wanted a hockey stick 2) a sparkly butterfly isn't what makes me gay? i was literally holding my boyfriend's hand and kissing him. why not take a picture of that?

Jack and Bits are definitely out for this.

There's definitely like, a hardest slap shot competition, with two entry levels - amateaur and pro. Because a lot of hockey players show up for this thing and jump at the chance to show off

Bitty actually signs up for the pro side and does pretty damn well for himself.

Jack and Kent end up tying for second. Some nobody fourth liner for the Lightning gets first and a lot of the players in the area are like hmmmmm

One of their goalies is really good at slight of hand, and does magic trick shows for the kids

They call the goalie Houdini. His first name is Harry anyway, the magic tricks were just a fortunate coincidence.

He's like their back-up's back up. But the guys love him too much so even though he's down in the AHL for the moment, he still gets invited to all the team events off season.

There's also a silent auction of course, and there's the requisite signed jerseys and sticks and pucks, but there are also gift certificates to the player's favorite restaurants, and one of the most popular items is a date with a few of the players.

So. Who wins the dates? Let me tell you.

Jeff's date is bought by this older gentleman who takes Jeff out to a celebrity restaurant in Vegas and then to a bourbon bar afterwards and they bond over talking about trains - Jeff loves model trains and the gentleman's father was an engineer.

Scrappy goes out with a woman whose husband bought the date for her. She's middle aged and super self conscious about her looks, but Scrappy is a total gentleman and treats her like royalty the entire night. They go swing dancing and she turns out to be really good once she gets the hang of it.

CJ: What if scrappy got her a corsage, bc that's what people did for dates when this woman was in the dating world

Kent's "date" is bought by the parents of a ten-year old kid who's on the spectrum and idolizes Kent. Kent takes him out onto the ice and shows him how to shoot the puck and gives him a jersey and one of his old sticks and shows him all around the behind the scenes of the arena, and also gives him box seat tickets to a game with his parents. It's a private box so if it gets too overstimulating for him he can take a break. Kent keeps up with the kid, sending him emails and eventually helps him pay for college when his parents go through a rough spot.

No one buys Carl's date.

CJ: bitty also definitely paid to kiss swoops

Kent gets Ideas when he sees Jeff and Bitty kiss. Because he's over Jack by now, he has no desire to start up any sort of sexual relationship with him ever again. But. He just might be convinced to sit and watch their boyfriends.... >.> this isn't an NsFW chat but you get the idea.

CJ: ...maybe Kent gets it in his head to kiss bitty?

And is v. disappointed when Bits doesn't get in line for his shift at the kissing booth. But then again he isn't out so Bits may just be trying to respect that? But then again he IS Jack's fiancé. And Kent is Jack's ex. Maybe that would be weird? But maybe it would be hot... fuck.

All I know is they def go out for a double date after the carnival except Bitty isn't aware it's a double date at first because he doesn't know Kent and Jeff are together, except Kent thinks he does because he definitely told Jack about them and he just figures that Jack will have told Bitty but he hasn't? Because he didn't want to out Kent if that's not what he wanted? And Jesus Christ Jack, since when did you get to be so thoughtful?

Fuck, yes of course you can tell your fucking fiancé that I'm in a relationship with my teammate but thank you for not assuming.

CJ: "Hey Eric, Swoops and I need you to settle something for us... We keep fighting over who is the better kisser... We need you to be the objective scorer. For science."

Bitty: But I'm not a girl? Kent: wait, what? Bitty: you're both straight, right? Or well, I know Jeff is Bi but... Jeff: Eric, Kent and I are together. Kent: And you know Jack is my ex. Bitty: Right but like you'd never actually come out to me or anything and I didn't want to assume I just thought maybe you were trying to get comparisons between how you both kiss different people and Jeff: Dude, breathe.(edited)

CJ: Jeff: also Zimmermann? [Bitty] is a good kisser. Out of your league, definitely. Way to go.

Jeff: *holds out a fist for a bump* Jack: Uh.... Bitty: No, babe he's totally right. I am so out of your league. *kisses his cheek*

Meet me in NSFW.

They go back to Kent and Jeff's place after dinner and Kent is definitely quite a bit tipsy on wine and Jeff is pleasantly buzzed and Bitty is too and Jack's the only one who's fully sober.

Jeff: So Kent and I were talking. Kent: *giggles* Jeff: And he'd totally like to watch you fuck me, Eric. If you'd be up for that. Bitty: :flushed: Jack: :no_mouth: :thinking: :flushed: CJ: Bitty: looks at swoops and sees tall muscle-y brunette Bitty: i.....could be persuaded

Bitty: glances at Jack Jack: subtly tries to hide the bulge that's appeared in his dress pants Jack: *looks at Kent* Would that mean we...? Kent: Oh, no. Sorry Zimms, you know I love you bro but that'd be weird I think? But I'm totally cool with watching them while we jack off to it. Admit it, it'd be hot as fuck. Jack: :tomato: Jeff: I'll take that as a yes?

CJ: Ngl i love bitty/parswoops bc  A) Kent gets two bfs B) swoops has two smol blond boyfriends

I don't see Jeff getting with Jack tho. TBH, I don't think Jack would be down for sharing himself with someone else? But he's totally on board for Bitty being with who he wants.

So when they all get together Bitty, Jeff and Kent go have their fun while Jack sits out on the porch reading a book and getting the quiet time he needs, and then Bitty sleeps with him in the guest room at night

CJ: And on nights where Jack needs to breathe, bitty and Jeff cuddle with Kent In the middle

Yes. And it takes so long for Jack to admit that some nights he just needs to be alone because at first he feels like that's rejecting bitty? But then they have Jeff and Kent in their lives and Jack can get what he needs and so can Bitty and it's perfect

CJ: Jeff also approves of this because it's easier to lavish attention on kent with two

CJ: And overstimulated, wrecked Kenny is beautiful

And like, before they got to this point Bitty and Jack's relationship was kinda on the rocks because they were fighting all the time (surprise surprise Jack couldn't communicate what he needed)

But now it's just so peaceful? Like yeah they still fight but it's just normal couple stuff.

CJ: Swoops would probably be good at getting them to cope better

Oh yeah. He would be super no nonsense about it too.

Like just. Sit them down and be like look, you're both idiots. Figure this out, Kent and I are going to the movies.

The end <3

[thesportssoundoff]

What a 23 page report tells us about Urban Meyer and sports in general

First and foremost, I'd absolutely recommend that anybody who has an opinion on the investigation without reading the investigation findings which can be found HERE (http://a.espncdn.com/pdf/2018/0823/ohiostatepdf.pdf) read it. Read it once, get any sort of emotional issues out of the way and then read it twice with a clearer head. Stuff like this, serious issues about morality and sports trying to co-mingle, often needs multiple lookovers. This one is a neat and tidy 20-some odd pages so it's not like it'll take too much time out of your day and by report standards, it's written clear enough that anybody can parse through it and get it. Also in the following bit, domestic violence is going to come up and while I'm not much for trigger warnings, I do think a fair and honest "HEADS UP!" is necessary for a subject such as this.

The outrage has simmered down. By normal read and react (or just react) standards, the Urban Meyer situation has basically come and gone. His three game suspension  is known, we raged about it and people moved on as they often do. It's hard to stay mad at something for too long when social media is basically a treadmill of rage; by the time you get mad at one thing, something else is already coming up so you're never allowed to fully decompress. You can't "get it out of your system" so to speak. I feel like on issues like this when we're discussing potential/alleged violence against a spouse, it matters to read through the reports and try to find the best image possible. Reading through the report I have zero doubt that Zach Smith is an abuser in some form or fashion. If not physically then emotionally since chances are a guy with a severe drinking problem who seems to also have a severe anger issue and poor impulse control probably has no issue yelling or menacing somebody. The report wasn't about Zach Smith's indiscretions (not entirely at least) and was instead about Urban Meyer. It's what I have to assume (because otherwise why read it) a good faith assessment and report on the findings of what Urban Meyer knew, what he alleged to know and what we ALL now know about the Zach Smith situation and how Urban Meyer and Ohio State handled it. For those who wish to care, here are my own personal thoughts based just upon the findings:

1) For SOME reason, Urban Meyer's loyalty to Zach Smith is cast iron which makes zero sense

The 2009 arrest for a domestic incident is discussed and covered pretty clearly early on. Zach Smith brings home a drunk co-worker to sleep on his couch (because why else do you bring a female co-worker to your home to sleep on your couch after a party?) and his wife is upset. It's alleged that Zach Smith throws her against a wall, an allegation that ultimately leads to an arrest but not a charge from Courtney Smith. From there though and spanning two different universities, it sure seems like there's nothing but bad behavior from Zach Smith. From trips to strip clubs (which aren't illicit except for when you're doing it on the company dime/company time) to truancy in paying back bills to the school to other red flags amid the school. The biggie though is the 2015 investigation into more domestic violence allegations from Courtney Smith. At that point, Urben Meyer is faced with a difficult choice on a one v one issue. Zach Smith has to this point exhibited plenty of fireable behavior and now he's under investigation for domestic violence. For some reason Urban Meyer puts up with it, offering yet another warning. At this point Zach Smith continues to act like a problem (it's not illegal to sleep with a co-worker or to take dick pics but it's probably unbecoming for a dude in the middle of a domestic violence investigation to do it and to do it WHILE at work) until the restraining order is brought down in 2018. THEN and only then does Urban Meyer make the move to fire Zach Smith and the move is made, according to the information presented, because Urban was jumped on the news by the media.

For some reasons by which I simply can't comprehend, Urban Meyer's rope of trust for Zach Smith wasn't just long enough to hang himself but to hang Urban Meyer, Ohio State's Athletic Director Gene Smith, the Ohio State University and practically all of Ohio at once. For reasons I can't figure out, Urban Meyer decided that he would stake his perfectly crafted reputation as the guy who viewed this as more than football and who preached family and values and so on so so forth on a guy who ultimately would betray that trust time and time again is just unfathomable. Remember Urban Meyer had Aaron Hernandez on his football team at Florida and he somehow survived the eventual fallout of that with his reputation intact! He rode Tim Tebow and the Tebow-isms of Florida while having guys like Chris Rainey on his team. He left Florida citing health and family, took a year off for a major media gig and then bailed and went to Ohio State for the largest contract in history at that time. This was the world's most bulletproof built reputation and he somehow found a way to ding it over an assistant. Even the report seems baffled, speculating that it may due to Zach Smith being the grandson of a mentor of Urban Mayer's. Even THAT seems like a stretch and IF that's the reason then Urban Meyer got this point politically by accident because no smart man would be that loyal that far down the chain of command. Zach Smith wasn't his defensive coordinator or a close aide, he wasn't a guy in a high spot on the totem pole. He was the wide receivers coach for the love of God. He wasn't there for 15 years having a long track record of proven results. In fact even in 2015 and 2016, Urban Meyer was concerned about Zach Smith showing up late to work (!) and having a generally poor level of performance!

It's stated that Urban Meyer had never fired a coach before and that may have played into it. I don't know the veracity of that claim but if so I guess it makes a little bit of sense as to the apprehension. Still Urban Meyer has truly nobody to blame but himself for all of this because it's not like Zach Smith's character was sterling and beyond question. Anybody who knows me knows I'm a guy who values second/third/fifth/twelfth chances in life. You've probably seen me argue for dudes like Greg Hardy and company, acknowledging the right to be mad at those people for fucking up while also acknowledging the human right to be able to atone for errors and also the right to make a living (as other sports people have argued, what IS a guy accused of a crime supposed to do for the rest of his life? What is acceptable for him? Can he run a store? Can he cook your food? Clean your subways?). Zach Smith just keep making errors and Urban Meyer continued to put him on his coaching staff and the report offers no real solid reason for any of that.

2) "So I’m To Believe...”

My Con Law professor used to start a sentence with "So I'm to believe" whenever he was hinting that somebody was losing their end of a classroom debate. It's stated a few times in the report that Urban and Shelley Meyer had discussions about Zach and Courtney Smith. It was at least known to the couple that those two had problems, so much so in fact that when the 2009 incident between the Smiths occurred, the Meyers suggested a counselor to the duo.  As such, I'm to believe is that Urban Meyer and Shelley Meyer had consistent dialogue about everything except for when Shelley was presented with texts of abuse and photos from Courtney Smith? And I'm to believe that Shlley Meyer contacted police about a domestic violence investigation but didn't tell her husband she was doing that? That at no point during this period of time Shelley and Urban NEVER talked about allegations of domestic violence in 2015? Even if Shelley Meyer thought that Courtney Smith was being less than honest about the Zach Smith situation, I'm to believe she NEVER mentioned that to Urban Meyer? It's a lot to believe, ain't it? Shelley Meyer is deemed as "supportive" of Courtney Smith but not supportive enough to say "Listen there's some shit going on, what are you going to do about it?" to Urban Meyer?

3)  A three game suspension is worse than no suspension

Honestly there's no "Better than nothing!" here. There are three options here; 1) no suspension, 2) a lengthy suspension or 3) dismissal as the head coach of the Ohio State Buckeyes. To offer up a three game suspension is a slap in the face of the concept of good faith. If he violated enough ethics to be suspended, it should be a much lengthier punishment than three games. A three game suspension is like saying "We don't necessarily think he did anything wrong but we hope you feel better about it!" He won't miss Penn State, he won't miss Michigan State, he won't miss Michigan hell he misses ONE Big 10 game and it's Rutgers! No disrespect to the fine Rutgers football squad but I think Ohio State should be able to manage without Urban Meyer. Again if you feel like he violated something in your code of conduct, suspend him for more than just a quickie three game set. Six games and you'd have plenty of people believing in you. Fire him if you're TRULY convinced he did something wrong. Three games just feels hollow and vacant, like an attempt to make this go away with a terrible placating tool.

4) It's only a problem when a) someone gets hurt by it or b) someone finds out about it

The response of Urban Meyer at the Big-10 press conference is covered but what truly matters are the responses of the people involved. Gene Smith advises Urban Meyer to be as scant with details as possible, Once the shit hits the fan about a potential media snowstorm on Zach Smith, Urban Meyer instructs his coaches to keep the focus on the team and the players. On one hand, sounds like a coach aiming to keep everybody in line and out of the way of what's to come but Urban himself seems to have no idea how to handle the situation either. In fact, he asks people in the organization for details on 2015 which suggests he actually may not have known about it. Now granted that in and of itself is compounded by Meyer's text from before August 2017 of last year disappearing entirely for whatever reason. Strange as that may be. Shelley Meyer expresses concern for the safety of some people (Zach himself? Her family? Courtney?) when she discusses and I quote here on page 12, Section A; "“I am worried about Zach’s response. He drinks a lot and I am just not sure how stable he will be. Afraid he will do something dangerous. It’s obvious he has anger/rage issues already.”" Everything after the fact paints a bad light on what feels like a cover up, even if the information presented seems to suggest something far less nefarious. It has that “It’s only a problem if” vibe to it.

5) Urban Meyer's memory loss is troubling

Urban Meyer is 54 years old and expected to the head coach at a major college university. At numerous times during the investigation, it's mentioned that Meyer either can't recall exact details or just flat out can't remember things. If we believe his texts, Urban Meyer genuinely had no recollection of the 2015 investigation. He did know about it but couldn't remember it per the investigation. In the same investigation, Urban Meyer claims to suffer from memory loss as well. If this is coincidence or an act, he's the most committed actor in history. If it's real? I think we need to ask if a coach who can't remember poignant events in time relating to his coaching staff is truly the best candidate to coach a football team going forward regardless of the ethical concerns.

At the end of all of this, there's some serious ethical issues we need to try and learn from here.

I hope this won’t be the case but I believe we’re all one day going to be in Urban Meyer's shoes. I can't speak for what Courtney Smith has gone through. It's an avenue of life I haven't had to walk and hopefully will never have to walk. Hopefully my sister will never have to walk it either and hopefully no sibling nor mother of anybody who reads this will ever have to walk it. I can only speak for myself when I say that I've known victims of domestic violence and I've known those accused of domestic violence. Domestic violence is a visceral and emotional act; it invokes emotion from those who deal with it and those presented with it. Urban Meyer may truly be a man who values women and abhors those who put their hands on a spouse, namely women who are more often than not the victims. What Urban Meyer may not have been prepared for is the likelihood that somebody close to him would be the accused. It's a lot easier to hate domestic violence until you know the guy who is accused and until you hear them plead with you that they'd never do that. It's harder for you to accept it because YOU want to believe it. Look at your average social media kerfuffle when somebody is accused of something heinous; the majority of the people lambasting them probably turn hat quickly when it's somebody they like accused. We all hate domestic violence until it looks us in the face with somebody we care about. We’ve all probably heard a joke about domestic violence and let it slide unitl it stops being funny when it’s someone you kno wwith bruises. When it's you/us/we, it''s never as black and white, no matter how much it is to everybody else. Even to the very end after firing him, Urban Meyer was telling his staff that Zach Smith needed their help moving forward (on page 11). Urban Meyer was presented on two different occasions with the belief that somebody close to him who he admired was in fault of violating a code of ethics he subscribed (or alleges) to have subscribed to. In those instances, he trusted a man who ultimately in the end betrayed him. Why? I guess it doesn't matter now but it definitely is something to consider. If anything, I suppose Urban Meyer's situation will force us all when/if that time comes to truly question what it is we believe about people and whether or not "*So and so* would NEVER do *such and such*" is really the best way to show faith in a situation as nuanced, painful and complicated as this.

This ethical conundrum of trust and who we trust is magnified with celebrities and athletes and people we THINK we know. Ohio State fans have poured out in support of Urban Meyer with the belief that he didn't know or did the right thing or whatever the case. Our society (and I imagine societies before this) believe we know the people we see on TVs, football fields, basketball courts or on our youtube channels. The star worship is strong and it's getting stronger in part due to the goal of making the world as connected on an individual basis as possible. Nobody wants to believe that somebody could make an error that grave because we "know" them. We "know" them because we see them on TV four months out of the year, follow their tweets and instagrams and believe in something they do to a borderline unhealthy level. We idol worship and just hope like hell we've picked the right idol to bandwagon on. For Ohio State fans, they "know" Urban Meyer's code of ethics because he tells us them and then wins football games. If Urban Meyer did the former and not the latter, would this whole incident just be a convenient excuse for some people to want him gone? We "knew" Bill Cosby because he was funny, right? We don't really know anybody outside of the persona they want us to believe in---and sometimes we all need to remember that before we grab pitchforks or take stances. At the end of the day, I hope this incident convinces people to either wait for a reason to believe one way or another and not allow blind faith and the belief we "know" people to convince ourselves to pick a side long before we need to take one.  It's okay to let the facts play out; so long as you're consistent in who you're choosing to let the facts play out on.

And lastly, the biggest problem is one that I think we can all see happening on a day to day basis. That is "When is it okay to talk about somebody's alleged transgressions?" For Urban Meyer and the Ohio State Athletic Department, so much rested on whether or not Zach Smith was charged with a crime. On multiple instances, they admit that a large portion of their reaction was due to Zach Smith not being charged with a crime (that they knew of at least).  Even in the end of the report, they state that Ohio State leaving it in the hands of the law was not the best idea in absence of an internal investigation. Ohio State was waiting for the police or a judge to give them some sort of clearance and they waited too long because these things aren't rapid action. They were putting their hands in the legal process to solve their issue for them which is a problem in 2018. It's a smart strategy, I suppose, in that they are the people best equipped to handle that. At the same time, you run the risk of putting somebody else in charge of a problem. "So and so has never been charged of a crime!" doesn't neglect the investigation or the arrest. It's a fine line to walk; being fair to due process while acknowledging an issue at hand. Ohio State relied on the legal system to solve their problems which in turn is the challenge for pro sports today. We acknowledge that leagues/teams aren't equipped to deal with legal matters and yet we want them to. Why? Because most people don't really trust the legal world either. What is due process in 2018 and how do we balance good faith with our emotions?

[ehyde]

A Void Between Two Stars

Chapter 4

Fandom: Akatsuki no Yona Series: Alien Larp AU Wordcount: 11,701 (so far), projected to be about 25k total Characters: Suwon, Judo, Keishuk, Minsu, Zeno, Kyoga, Yonhi, misc OCs Ships: there are several spaceships

The latest installment of my sci-fi au, in which Suwon is an AI leading Kouka in a rebellion against his former extraterrestrial masters. When the connection between the AI and its human host is severed, Suwon–both of them–must learn to live as only half of himself, while Judo faces the challenge of trying to figure out which one, man or machine, is truly his king.

For more info about the AU and other works in the series, check out the series masterpost. Thank you to my beta readers @greymantleish and @luckyfilbert!

Keep reading below the cut or read from the beginning on AO3.

Judo caught up with Keishuk and Minsu just as they were leaving the palace. “Oh good, you’re coming too?” Minsu asked. “I’m sure Master San-dol will be more likely to listen to you, General.”

That must be the jeweler. Frankly, Judo didn’t know what Minsu was talking about. The boy carried out important palace business on his own all the time—in fact, he might have more luck if Keishuk stayed behind. “No, I just needed to find out which of Lady Yonhi’s tools you need.”

“Just her computer console,” said Keishuk. “And I won’t need that until later.” He, too, gestured for Judo to come along, and sighing, Judo followed. Minsu was right—the presence of the sky general did a lot to convince, or perhaps merely intimidate, the jeweler, who, faced with a strange monster and an unassuming boy, would have preferred to retreat to the back of his workshop.

“Minsu knows where all of Lady Yonhi’s equipment is,” Keishuk said after they returned with the jeweler to the palace. “He can go get it.”

“No, the king sent me—” But hadn’t Suwon just wanted him out of his sight?

“Well, go with him if you want,” said Keishuk with a shrug. “Oh, and bring Lady Yonhi’s doctor back with you, too. I’m sure Suwon would have asked you to, if he’d remembered.” He spoke as if the king’s forgetfulness was a matter of course.

“Her doctor?”

“They’re aven,” Keishuk explained. “They can see to the prisoners.” Minsu nodded to confirm—and that must be how he’d already known so much. Wasn’t that doctor supposed to be his mother? But the boy didn’t offer any further explanation, and Judo didn’t ask for it.

By the time they returned from the royal university, it was past midday. Back in the mainframe’s chamber, they found Keishuk waiting alone. “Already finished?”

“No. The jeweler needed a break to rest his eyes, and I need to take some readings before we go on, anyway. You brought—?” Judo handed him a wooden chest, and as Keishuk opened it, he gave what Judo took for a genuine laugh. “Everything I need, and then some.” Judo had filled the chest with anything that looked vaguely alien, just in case. “I’ll get started before he comes back. I swear, if he asks to touch my feathers one more time…”

“Well, Master San-dol is an artist,” Minsu reasoned. “He appreciates unusual appearances.” Keishuk only ruffled his feathers in further annoyance.

“How long will the rest of this take?” Judo asked.

“Oh...hours, I’m sure.”

Hours, with nothing left to distract him. The jeweler returned, and set to work once again, and it wasn't until he irritably asked Judo to stop pacing that he realized he was doing it. Trying to parse out the difference between this king and that king when one wouldn’t speak to him and the other could not wasn’t doing anyone any good.

When he stepped out of the chamber, he wasn’t expecting to find anyone else—the guards had been dismissed before Keishuk began working. The boy he ran into was dressed like Minsu, but Judo knew all the officials in the palace by sight, and this yellow-haired boy wasn’t one of them. “You—” he began.

“Oh, hi, mister,” the youth greeted him.

“Aren’t you one of Princess Yona’s companions?” Judo demanded. “What are you doing here?” He paused. “Is she here?” The princess and the king seemed to be reluctant allies these days, but with Suwon...not himself...and the whole palace on edge after learning Keishuk’s secret, the last thing they needed was for Il’s daughter to show up.

“Nope, it’s just Zeno, and Zeno will be leaving soon,” said Zeno. “Did big brother king find the little ship?”

“...yes…” How did he—? No, wait. Suwon had known the ship wouldn’t be defended. This boy had been with the princess, who was supposed to be in a ship of her own. He’d brought that information to the king.

“Good, good!” said Zeno. “Then mister computer and big brother king will be okay! Zeno will be leaving soon,” he repeated. “But Zeno doesn’t get to come to the palace very often, so Zeno decided to pay an old friend a visit.”

“Look, I can’t just let you walk around unsupervised—”

“You can come too, mister!”

Well, it wasn’t as if Judo had anything better to do.

He followed Zeno until they came to a familiar space, one he hadn’t set foot in in years. “This is King Hiryuu’s mausoleum.”

“Zeno sometimes wonders what he would have thought about all these other worlds,” said Zeno. “Ah, maybe he already knew. The miss is excited to see them, and that’s good enough for Zeno!” He offered the great stone coffin—not a look of reverence, but a friendly smile. “You know, mister,” he said, glancing up at Judo. “Most people think Hiryuu chose to become human. Well, he did, but not at first! Take good care of big brother king for me, okay, mister?”

Judo definitely wasn’t here for philosophical discussions. “Look, kid—”

“See you, mister!” Then Zeno darted to the back of the room—and disappeared.

Judo hadn’t known about that secret passage. He almost shot after the boy, then stopped himself. There was really no point, and besides, he’d likely brought valuable information to the king. And if he found him again, he’d just start talking more nonsense…

Keishuk and the jeweler finished eventually. By then, afternoon had passed into evening. “Minsu,” said Judo. “Find this man a room for the night, and see that he gets a good meal. He’s done a very important service for the king.”

The look on the boy’s face made Judo wonder, not for the first time, just how much Minsu knew, and how much he might have guessed. Had it really been wise to keep him here the whole time? Minsu had served Il loyally—what would he do if he knew the true nature of the king? Keishuk probably hadn’t even thought about that…

It was still too quiet. “Is His Majesty—?” Judo began, glancing around the room.

“The startup process will take a few hours,” Keishuk said. “I can begin restoring his memory after that. We’ll start at dawn.”

Dawn was far more than a few hours away...but Keishuk needed sleep too, Judo supposed. “The sooner the better,” he said. “The king is—”

“About what Arouk said,” said Keishuk. “...they were almost certainly right.”

Fuck.

“I’ll try to reconnect him,” said Keishuk. “I’ll try. But I don’t expect anything to come of it. Just in case, though—he should stay away from here until the machine is fully restored.”

“...and after that?”

“After that, I suppose it’s up to them,” said Keishuk in a resigned tone. Them. Plural. The man who Judo had left in his chamber, who might never again be more than what he was now, and the computer, who… Keishuk sighed. “I ought to suggest we just stop here. Throw ourselves on the Company’s mercy. The AI isn’t my king, after all.”

Isn’t he? Judo wanted to ask. Keishuk had always claimed to be no more than an observer—distant, academic—but the past two days proved that to be a lie. “And I suppose if I ask why you’ve put so much on the line to fix him, you’ll just say you were in too deep?”

“Well,” Keishuk shrugged. “There’s also that, of course.”

It was after Keishuk left that Judo realized he’d forgotten to mention the king’s previous nighttime wanderings. If Suwon shouldn’t be near the computer, then someone needed to tell him...and that someone would have to be Judo, now.

Telling himself that the king had had several hours to calm down from that earlier discussion, Judo tapped as gently as he could at the king’s door—then forgot all about trying to be polite as he saw the inside of the room. Books, scrolls, and loose papers were scattered about everywhere. “Just some mundane paperwork?” Judo demanded.

Suwon looked up from his desk. “I should know this,” he said. “I should know all of this.” Judo glanced around at all the papers. Various reports on different industries throughout the kingdom, it was possible that one or two of them might actually be relevant to the business of the day. Possible.

“No one should know all of this,” Judo countered.

The king smiled. “Ha! That’s one perspective,” he agreed, laughter coming too quickly. “No human should,” he added. “General...you never questioned how I came to possess a human body.”

My body is here, my mind is elsewhere. That was all Judo had needed to know. The Company could do so many things—if he’d ever thought about it at all, he’d have figured they sent him here with one. He knew, after all, that the computer had been here since Suwon was a child. But...that didn’t hold up, did it? Not with what the aven had said. Not with what was happening now. “Possess,” he repeated. That word choice had been deliberate.

“This body was once another person,” said Suwon. “Until my nanobots allowed me to make it an extension of myself. Now—well, that is what Arouk meant by ‘free.’ But he’s mistaken,” Suwon continued. “That child doesn’t exist anymore. This body...I...have known myself as Kouka’s AI for nearly ten years now, and it seems I will continue to do so.”

“Good,” said Judo.

Suwon looked up sharply. “Good?”

“If you’re going to be two people, we sure as hell don’t need you being two different people. Your Majesty,” Judo continued, “ten years was a long time ago. You’re the king I chose to follow.” Or at least, part of him.

Still, he had to wonder. That boy he used to chase through the city more than a decade ago—truly gone? It was somehow more impossible than believing that kid had been the AI all along. Most people think Hiryuu chose to become human. Judo stopped short, remembering Zeno’s words. How much did that boy know? “Keishuk says you’re not to go near your mainframe until everything’s ready,” he said. “That’s what I came here to report. And the power core was successfully installed, and he’ll begin restoring your memories in the morning.”

“You should be there for that.”

“Your Majesty—” What Judo could possibly add to that procedure, he had no idea.

“I would very much appreciate it, general,” said Suwon, and Judo nodded in resignation.

He gave the king’s chambers one final look before leaving for the night. “Minsu can help you with your paperwork. That is his job, you know. Please get some sleep tonight, Your Majesty.”

Suwon smiled at him. “Judo, you always manage to surprise me. Goodnight, General.”

Judo went to the computer’s chamber before dawn, and found Keishuk already there. “I don’t think I’ll need your help for this, General,” said Keishuk.

“You’ll need someone’s help,” Judo countered, because Suwon must have had a reason for wanting him here. “No one else knows the truth, so it has to be me. I wish Lady Yonhi were here,” he grumbled. “She actually understands this stuff.”

“And you think she’d help?” Keishuk asked pointedly.

Of course she would. She’s the king’s mother—

Oh.

“If you’re going to be here, then I should warn you—the computer won’t seem like itself at first. Please don’t be alarmed. You already know it isn’t human. Did you bring your translator?” Startled, Judo nodded. “Wear it. Without its memories, the computer does not speak Koukan.” And with that, Keishuk stepped forward to the open paneling, and pressed a sequence of buttons inside.

The tone of humming in the background shifted.

“Computer,” said Keishuk in a tone of voice that could only be described as a command. “Authorization code—” The words he spoke next were apparently untranslatable. “Authorizing vocal instructions due to equipment malfunction.”

“Acknowledged,” said a voice that was not Suwon’s. “Awaiting further instructions.”

Awaiting further…? No, no, he wasn’t himself yet. The computer’s stiff, compliant tone, obeying the words of the first person to recite a string of random words and numbers, meant nothing.

“Tell me the results of your startup performance check,” said Keishuk. “Any damage?”

“All systems functioning normally,” said the computer. “But this power core was not designed for this machine. Estimated power supply remaining: two and a half months.”

“...understood,” said Keishuk. “Computer, your memory crystals were removed. I’m going to reinstall them one by one. Scan for data corruption, but don’t reintegrate until I’ve restored each piece.” A pause. Too long a pause, for a machine like this. “Computer, I need you to give me access—”

“Anything could be on those crystals,” said the computer, and Keishuk frowned.

“They’re your own memory crystals,” he said.

“It’s a suspicious situation,” the computer insisted. “Why am I being restarted in a place without proper equipment? Your authorization codes say you’re not a Company employee, and the other person with you hasn’t given any authorization at all.”

“I have—other authorization codes—”

“No, I don’t want them,” said the computer, sounding like nothing more than a petulant child—and a familiar one at that. Judo couldn’t hold back a chortle of laughter.

Keishuk shot him a look. “This isn’t funny,” he said. “This could be a major setback—”

“And the person you brought with you is human,” said the computer. “That’s also suspicious.”

“Your Majesty,” Judo said. “None of this would be suspicious if you remembered what was going on!”

“A human with a translator. You called me “Your Majesty,” it said. “Do I wear the form of your king?”

“You don’t ‘wear his form,’ you are the king!” Judo scowled. “I never thought I’d be the one explaining this to you.”

“And who explained it to you? This Keishuk?”

“You did. Keishuk was against it.”

“You don’t need to bring that up now, General,” Keishuk muttered.

“I told a human...that’s fascinating.”

“It would make sense if you’d just let Keishuk fix you!”

“Yes,” the computer agreed. “Mr. Keishuk, I’ll accept your authorization codes.”

“Thank you.”

“You can insert the first memory crystal now.” As Keishuk slid the first etched bar into place, Judo almost had to smile. Not himself? Hardly.

The frantic whirring of fans abruptly ceased, and the sudden silence jolted Judo back to alertness. No—not silence. The cold stone chamber was finally filled with all the familiar white noise that belonged there.

“General? Judo, I can’t see you.” Nearly the same words he’d spoken to days ago, waking up after that fit. “I can’t reach my peripherals. General Judo—I’ve been attacked!” He sounded almost the same, too—his voice was his own again.

“Two days ago, Your Majesty,” said Judo. “The attackers are no longer a threat.”

“Some of your equipment was damaged,” Keishuk added. “Most of it just isn’t back online yet.”

“...yes. Rebooting is somewhat disorienting. Keishuk, I should apologize for not trusting you just now.”

“Honestly, I should have expected it,” muttered Keishuk. “Computer, you can reconnect to your satellites whenever you’re ready. It seems some of them were damaged, but we don’t know how many. At any rate, you should still have a functional network.”

“Was anyone hurt during the attack? Judo, Keishuk, you’re both fine?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Judo assured the king. His own injury wasn’t serious enough to mention. “Gyoku was stunned, and he’s still confined to bedrest. Aside from that, there were no casualties,” Judo reported.

“And...my body?” Judo and Keishuk looked at each other. “The last thing I remember is pain. Judo...is my body dead?”

“If you were dead then why the hell do you think I’d say no casualties?” Judo snapped.

“The pain you felt...was most likely your nanobots overheating from the pulse, computer.”

“...oh.”

“There’s a chance—”

“Do I know? Does my body know?”

Grimly, Judo nodded. Then he remembered that Suwon still didn’t have working cameras. “You know.”

“I had him stay away during the reboot just in case...and in case there was any data corruption. But now…” Keishuk looked down. “I have some technical things I need to go over with the computer.”

One of them had to go to the king. Judo had expected all along that the duty would fall on him. “I’ll tell him you’re ready, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’ll go to...you...now.”

Suwon wasn’t in his chamber. It was late morning by now, nearing midday, so this wasn’t too surprising, but Judo wished he’d thought to tell him what his plans were. “You,” he snapped at a servant standing by. “Do you know where the king went?”

“He was dressed to go outside…”

No, he wouldn’t go to Kuuto alone, would he? Well yes, all the time, but he knew what they were doing to the computer today. He’d stay close, wouldn’t he? Judo decided to check the training grounds next. No luck. His next guess was more successful. He found the king in the stables by the mews—sound asleep, curled up on a pile of straw, Gulfan perched protectively above him. “Hmph. I suppose I should be grateful you slept at all?”

Suwon blinked awake, then sat up, brushing straw from his cloak. “...it’s day. I...oh. I didn’t tell myself to wake up.”

“Is there a particular reason you’re napping here, Your Majesty?” Judo asked, reaching forward to pluck a piece of straw from Suwon’s hair.

“I dreamt that Gulfan flew so high into the sky I lost sight of her, and she never came back down.”

“Well, that’s—” Judo didn’t know what to say to that. He’d asked, hadn’t he? What kind of explanation had he really expected? “You’re awake,” he said instead.

“Yes, and Gulfan is here—ah. I’m awake. Then there’s no point in waiting, is there?” He stood up, then reached out a hand to pet Gulfan’s feathers and released the leash from her leg before moving toward the entrance. “Watch the skies for me for just a little longer,” Suwon whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

What was this feeling of dread that followed Judo as he walked by Suwon’s side to the computer’s chamber? He knew there was only a slim hope—but why didn’t it feel like hope at all? If everything went as it should, then the man who walked beside him would once again become part of the computer. But they were already the same person—seeing them exist separately over these past two days had only served to make that clear. What Arouk had said—what Suwon had confirmed—that was irrelevant now. Judo could accept the fact that his king existed in a stolen body, just as he’d accepted every other sacrifice that Suwon had made to achieve his goals. That he existed now as a separate person—

Well, he didn’t. They were the same.

But this Suwon, this purely human Suwon, he was—vulnerable. Vulnerable in a way that Judo had never seen, in a way that was, at times, frankly ridiculous. Kouka did not need a vulnerable king. And yet—

Suwon wouldn’t dream again.

Judo stopped short.

“General?” Suwon asked as Judo fell behind. “Is something wrong?” His mask of hopeful confidence might have fooled anyone else. And the thing that now felt so inexplicably wrong to Judo was the one thing holding him together.

Judo swallowed back that sense of dread. “No,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong.”

When they arrived, Keishuk had opened up what Judo knew to be the display panel, and was poking at the exposed wires inside. Intermittent lights flashed, bright in the candlelit darkness. No matter how many candles lit this place, it was always dark—it was a wonder the jeweler had been able to do his work at all. “General Judo,” said the computer. “You brought—?” A question. He still couldn’t see.

“Ah—” Suwon’s eyes widened and he breathed in sharply—then suddenly bent over, clutching his head and wrenching his face in pain.

“Your Majesty!” Judo knelt beside Suwon, hand on his shoulder. The pained expression left Suwon’s face as quickly as it arrived and he took deep breaths, but just when Judo thought things were alright again the king started shaking. Judo spun around to face the computer. “Was that—did you—? Why the hell didn’t you say something before you tried this? You could have asked him—”

Him. Another person.

“No,” whispered Suwon. “No, no, no no no…”

“I’m sorry,” said...Suwon, in the exact same voice, and he sounded truly regretful. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing left that I can use.”

[trb-reacts]

The Raven Boys, Chapter 1 - 2

So, I have heard lots of raves (ha!) about The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater because people who is into The Foxhole Court & Captive Prince are inevitably also into this series, so I thought I would finally join in. Started this blog because I enjoyed Nicki Reads The Foxhole Court and a blog seems like a cool idea to just dump down my thoughts as I read.

I am going to break these down by chapters, but just for this one, the distribution might be a bit off because I read the first few chapters before deciding to make a blog, so I am just skimming through it real quick to point out stuff.

“Blue never grew tired of feeling particularly needed, but sometimes she wished needed felt less like a synonym for useful.”

What a lovely phrase and very very intriguing. The Human Battery is not an uncommon trope, but I like how it explicitly explores her feeling like she’s being used. 

"There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve, Blue. Either you’re his true love," Neeve said, "or you killed him." 

I’m very amused by this because we are told that Blue is destined to kill her One True Love when she kiss him, so chances are the spirit (Gansey) that she saw is her One True Love that She Kissed and Liked It and It Tasted Like His Incoming Doom. Or if not (because I think I know for sure that there’s some lovely gay romance destined to happen between someones (or else tumblr is just very fervent about non-canon ships, which is also definitely a possibility)), then Blue’s death count just definitively went up by one. 

his roommate Ronan Lynch replied, "You missed World Hist. I thought you were dead in a ditch."

He asked, "Did you get notes for me?" "No," Ronan replied. "I thought you were dead in a ditch." 

I’m just... so amused by this exchange. So amused.

Next to an EpiPen, there was a stick of beef jerky, but the jerky had expired two years ago. Possibly it had been there when he’d bought the car.

Maybe I’m interpreting this wrong, but why does it sound like Gansey bought a second-handed car. It just clash so horribly with the image of him being this rich boy, who had this very fake and haughty version of a camping trip.

His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain.

I have no idea what’s going on here, but I love lines like this? I’m curious by what exactly does he want though. 

Ronan hefted a gas can from the trunk, making little effort to keep the greasy container from contacting his clothing. Like Gansey, he wore the Aglionby uniform, but, as always, he managed to make it look as disreputable as possible. His tie was knotted with a method best described as contempt and his shirt-tails were ragged beneath the bottom of his sweater. His smile was thin and sharp. If his BMW was shark-like, it had learned how from him.

What can I say besides I’m liking Ronan more and more. Tie knotted with contempt, his car learning to be shark-like from him. What a description, what a character!

"My dick brother wants us to meet him at Nino’s tonight. With Ashley[...] We’re meant to look pretty for her." Gansey resented having to play nicely with Ronan’s older brother, a senior at Aglionby, but he understood why they had to. Freedom in the Lynch family was a complicated thing, and at the moment, Declan held the keys to it.

"He wants to do it tonight because he knows I have class." 

I’m admittedly baffled by this exchange, or maybe I can’t just fully parse out the subtleties. Why does Ronan’s brother Declan want to show off Ronan’s friends to his girlfriend which he switches every three days, but without Ronan’s presence? Is that a thing? Also, like I know I’m nitpicking, but if Declan does this all the time, then why would Ronan say ‘us’, including himself in the equation, especially when it sounds like the hate has been kinda mutual on all sides for a while now??

Yeah, I don’t get it. Complicated, indeed. Gansey also seems to not like Declan, which I find funny because he seems like the nice guy who likes everyone so far to me. Also what’s a Nino?

Ronan didn’t sound very interested, but that was part of the Ronan Lynch brand. It was impossible to tell how deep his disinterest truly was. Did I mention that I’m liking Ronan more and more?

"Gansey," it said. ...It was still strange to hear himself on the recording, with no memory of saying the words. Then, as if from very far away, a female voice, the words hard to make out: "Is that all?"

Whelp, I think the possibility of One True Love just increased exponentially. Also I forgot to mention, but Gansey is destined to die within a year. Which is just... tragic, especially for his band of friends. 

And a very old British professor had said, The world turns out its pockets for you, boy. The key, Gansey found, was that you had to believe that they existed; you had to realize they were part of something bigger. Some secrets only gave themselves up to those who’d proven themselves worthy

I love the entire concept. Just, I’m always a little fascinated by the power of belief (e.g. gods are powerful because people believe and when they stop, they die)

This last part was directed at Adam as he climbed out of the BMW with Ronan’s phone still in hand. He offered it to Ronan, who shook his head disdainfully. Ronan despised all phones, including his own.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the Raven Boys and their quirks, but like... there’s something such as too much sometimes? Complicated relationship with his brother, freedom to be gained, disdain for all, despises phones, and I’m sure much more is going to pop up. How am I going to ever keep track of all this and not mix one boy’s eccentricity for the other’s?

There’s so much depth for each of them that with each detail, my image of them is just getting murkier. 

"Am I invited?" Adam could be peculiarly polite. When he was uncertain about something, his Southern accent always made an appearance, and it was in evidence now. Adam never needed an invitation. He and Ronan must’ve fought. Unsurprising. If it had a social security number, Ronan had fought with it

I like this because Adam sounded so comfortable and belonging in the group thus far. Then, Am I invited and you can feel the distance stretching endlessly between them again. Don’t want to get burned by assuming, purposely distancing or a stab at Ronan? Why am I so sure it’s the first?

Also, detail number 50 about Ronon.  If it had a social security number, Ronan had fought with it. Once again, love the phrasing, a little too much detail to keep track of and a little... too telling? I coulda waited until a little later to be shown that Ronan fights with everyone. 

Gansey said, "Tell me there’s no sauce on this burger." Dropping the strap from his teeth, Ronan scoffed. "Please." "No pickle, either," Adam said,

I’m offended you’d ever consider that I would forget how you like your burger, is what they’re saying. Sweet, though Gansey, no sauce? Sauce is life for me. 

He’d not only brought two small containers of fuel additive, but also a rag to place between the gas can and his khakis; he made the entire process look commonplace. Adam tried so hard to hide his roots, but they came out in the smallest of gestures.

A thoughtful sweet cinnamon that needs protecting. The commoner trying to hide his roots and fit in, except he gives himself away a little each time he shows how much he cares through his attention to detail, since rich bastards never have to impeccably keep their clothes clean ‘cause they can’t afford to replace it. I feel for Adam. 

[Adam’s] letters always looked like they were running from something.

So much double meaning and hints and no answers anywhere in sight. Sigh.