#i need to be hit with a hammer over the head cartoon styles

[streetlvght]

guess who’s been scrubbing through the fly high mv (for research purposes and no other reason) and these closeups of his lips hit me like a brick :[

binnie has the most kissable dolly lips i’ve ever seen. the way they squeeze and flatten when he pulls them into a line them or the way they push out when he pouts is driving me crazy!!! waauugh

[jenn-i-guess]

Pictured Confessions//Kiribaku

Imagine Class 1-A bringing in old childhood photo albums and middle school yearbooks, all except for Kiri who was too embarrassed to bring anything like that.

That doesn’t stop Mina from bringing her own middle school yearbook, and guess what?

Besides finding a-kind of the same looking-picture of younger Mina, they find an INTERESTING picture of middle school Kirishima...

Black straightened hair, dark grey eyeshadow, and tons of (seemingly fake) piercings, jutting out of his lip and nose, even one on his eyebrow, with one shaved line at the crease.

But the cherry on top was the very obvious Hot Topic shirt with what seemed to be a cover of some heavy metal band.

Silence fills the room, heat radiating off of the very embarrassed Kirishima, pressing his face into his palms.

If he was a cartoon, steam would definitely be shooting from his ears.

“Dude...” Sero began.

“You were such an emo!” Kaminari finished with a snort, eyes watering.

Groaning into his hands once more, he began to wonder how he could possibly die at this moment.

Maybe if the floor could just swallow him whole, it would be doing him a big favor right about now.

“W-Well!” He started, reaching out and grabbing Mina’s yearbook.

“Two can play at that game! Did you know-“ Kiri paused, for dramatic affect, flipping many of the laminated pages before he found what he was looking for, “That Mina used to be in the drama club?!”

Mina shrieked as their friends began crowding around the book again, looking at a very embarrassing picture.

Hopefully much more embarrassing than his that it would be long forgotten.

It was a large picture, in which Mina was wearing a huge white wig and a judge’s dress while holding her arms up in the air.

The picture captured her face when she was pursing her lips, her eyes widening comically.

“No! Don’t look!” Mina screamed, jutting her arms out before grabbing the book, slamming it shut and holding it against her chest, a wild look on her face.

“Nice wig, Mina.” Kaminari wheezed, his face scrunching up like he just tasted a lemon, trying to hold back more laughter.

“Oh you’re one to talk. Where’s your yearbook?” She smirked, pleased with herself when Kaminari blanched and shut up quite completely.

Everyone began to gather around Kaminari, poking him to show his memorabilia.

Kirishima sighed, choosing this moment to step out.

Looking around the room, he noticed there was one less person than before.

A certain blonde, whom he had really hoped had not seen the embarrassing photo of him but it would’ve been hard not to, what with Mina holding it up for all the class to see.

He scanned the room and saw Bakugou walking back towards the elevator, jamming his finger on the button with so much more anger than necessary.

Curious, Kirishima walked fast over to him, ignoring the quick chattering of his friends.

Just as the elevator was about to close, Kirishima jutted his foot between the two sliding doors, stopping them momentarily.

“Hey! Wait up Bakubro!” He slid in, feeling the blonde’s crimson eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

“The hell are you doing, shitty-hair?” Bakugou sneered, watching as the redhead pressed the button to their floor, smiling when it made a soft chiming noise.

“Eh, I’m bored. I’m just gonna work out in my room and then probably hit the hay.” Kirishima shrugged.

Bakugou nodded, shoving his fists into his grey sweatpants pockets, leaning against the elevator wall.

The redhead stared a little more at his friend, lingering on his face.

He had never seen the blonde so...emotionless.

His pale face smooth and relaxed, no wrinkles or furrowed eyebrows from his usual spouts of anger.

In fact he looked...pretty. Not just his face, but the light blonde tufts of hair styled in spikes surrounding it.

Well...Kiri also thought he looked hot as well.

What?! You can’t really blame him!

Not when Bakugou wore those black tank tops, showing off hints of his pectorals, doing nothing to stop him from looking at the muscles bulging on his arms.

It was especially excruciatingly painful to watch whenever they trained together.

Watching beads of sweat fall down beyond the collar of his top, making Kirishima wonder what was beyond that line of clothing.

Wondering how it would feel if he touched that expanse of skin.

A loud chime spooked him out of his very homoerotic thoughts, a faint dust of red filling the apples of his cheeks as he realized he had still been staring at Bakugou’s meaty biceps.

He grimaced, hoping Bakugou didn’t see him staring, but he didn’t get a chance to, as Bakugou was already walking out of the elevator.

Kirishima inhaled deeply, shaking his head as he followed Bakugou to their neighboring dorms.

The blonde stopped in front of his door, turning to stare at Kirishima.

The redhead gulped, nervously watching as Bakugou looked him up and down, seeming like he was expecting Kiri to say something.

“Well, goodnight Bakugou!” He smiled at him, going to open his door when suddenly a much lighter hand slammed it shut once more.

“Hold on.” Bakugou demanded, his gruff voice bouncing against the empty hallway.

Kirishima paused, his lips shut tight as he waited for Bakugou to say more.

“Um...yes?” He smiled meekly, his lips not exactly curving upwards.

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, his cheeks flushing red as he stammered, “Y-You! You still need help with tutoring tonight, right?!” He yelled out the last bit.

Ah! Tonight is Friday! Their tutoring night!

With all of the excitement of yearbooks and family pictures he must’ve forgotten completely!

Ugh, so unmanly to keep Bakugou waiting, to make him ask like this.

“Oh! Yes yes, right! Of course, my bad Bakugou.” Kiri nodded his head, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, beginning to turn red with embarrassment.

Bakugou relaxed his shoulders, the smallest of grins beginning to show on his face.

“Whatever, ‘s not like I expected you to remember anything with that pea-sized brain of yours.” He mocked, turning around to open his door.

“Hey! My brain is normal sized, just like yours!” Kirishima retaliated, stomping after Bakugou.

The door clicked shut behind them, entrapping Kirishima inside of the cool shadowy room that was Bakugou’s.

Besides being cooler temperature wise, the room was also very...boring.

It surprised him every time Kirishima walked into Bakugou’s room, just the overall average ness.

Bland grey walls with nothing decorating them, not even so much as a poster of his favorite hero.

And to go along with the insane asylum decor, black bedsheets and a white pillowcase, neatly put together as if he never touched the bed at all.

Kirishima smiled to himself, feeling comfortable in the others room, a sense of familiarity.

The blonde groaned before flipping down on his bed, back-first.

“So, what is it that you need help with?” He spoke, his usually rough voice toning down a bit.

Kiri started to speak, but paused as he took a breath.

Actually, he didn’t really have anything to work on.

Final exams were over, there were no surprise tests sprung out by Aizawa.

Truly, there was no reason he should even be in this room at all.

So why did he want to stay?

Stuttering out his last breath, he crouched onto the floor, shuffling into a criss-crossed position.

“Well, actually-“ He chuckled nervously, watching as Bakugou leaned upwards, resting on his elbows while staring at him incredulously.

“Ha, I guess I don’t really have anything to do. I don’t really need to study for anything.”

“So then, why’d you come in here?” Bakugou grunted, sitting up all the way and leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Honestly?” Kiri shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m so exhausted from today. Just having to deal with everyone yelling and having to show people photos, especially mine!” He groaned.

But some part of him did wonder if Bakugou knew what he was talking about.

But oh bOy was he not at all prepared for the answer to that question!

“Oh, you mean that hot picture of you?”

Kirishima wheezed, his lungs squeezing together as all the air escaped his body.

He coughed-super attractively-while trying to think of anything to say.

It didn’t help that Bakugou just kept staring at him, his eyebrows raised and a subtle smirk keeping his lips quirked up.

“Ahem, what?” Kiri’s heart hammered against his chest, his fingers feeling oddly clammy clasped together.

“I said-“ Bakugou shuffled himself onto the floor, leaning closer into Kirishima’s space.

So close that Kiri could smell the spicy scent of the blonde’s body wash, almost intoxicating to him.

“I thought that picture of you was hot.” He rumbled, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards in such a way that Kiri could actually feel his heart stopping and starting at the same time.

“Ah, um cool.” He sputtered before his brain caught up to his idiotic mouth.

Cool?!

Kill him. Right here right now. He is a waste of a human body.

But a light airy sound broke him out of his embarrassing trance, a laugh.

Bakugou was chuckling at him. And in a really cute way!

Kirishima could rarely ever get Bakugou to laugh, most of the time he was the one being laughed at.

Just like now but...it was different. The way he was laughing, the smile stretching his lips.

There were indents marking at the corner of his eyes as he laughed, small divots of skin.

“Dumbass.” Bakugou chortled, biting his lips to reel in another fit of laughter.

Oh. Wow.

Kiri was definetly sure he was blushing now, half of it being because of embarrassment but the other half...

Adoration.

Damn, Eijirou was really swimming in the deep end wasn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up! You can’t just-just say something like that and expect a good answer out of me!” Kirishima whined, balling up his hands in frustrations.

“What is your answer?” Bakugou asked, nonchalantly.

Kiri paused once more, “My what?”

“You said,” Bakugou smirked, “That I cant expect a good answer. How about just a regular one?”

“A...regular one?”

Oh boy. Was this really happening? Oh god oh fuck-

Bakugou hummed, his face going slack as he waited for an answer.

“Well, I guess it’s okay that you found me hot, then.”

But the real question still lingered on his lips, like a bad aftertaste.

“And it’s fine if you...don’t find me attractive now.” He murmured the last part, a part of him hoping Bakugou didn’t catch what he said.

Kiri glanced back up when he heard a harsh scoff come from Bakugou’s mouth.

“Tch, never said that.” He muttered, his face growing steadily pink.

“You-“

Kiri blanked.

His outer body seemed to get clammy and sweaty but his insides, it felt as if he was being burned.

His heart hammered painfully, and he found it even harder to breathe.

“What...Bakugou what do you mean by that?” Kirishima asked, his voice quivering on the last word, staring straight at Bakugou’s crimson eyes.

The blonde shifted, growing more embarrassed by the second. He wiped his calloused hands against his mouth and bit his lip.

“Bakugou-“

Kirishima reached out and grabbed Bakugou’s hand, feeling the sweat mixing in with his own.

He wanted to feel it.

If this moment really was happening he wanted to feel how it felt.

Eijirou swallowed down his building saliva, using his thumb to rub gentle circles onto the blonde’s soft skin.

“I-I like you too. If this means what I think it means, I like you too.” He couldn’t help but let the nervous smile contort his lips, the tips of his sharp teeth sticking out, like white gleams in the darkness of Bakugou’s room.

The blonde’s head snapped back to stare at Kirishima, his eyes widening in what seemed to be disbelief, then softening.

Bakugou snorted, twisting his hand away, almost causing Kirishima’s heart to break into pieces.

That is until those lovely hands came up to rest lightly on his face, palms squishing his cheeks lightly.

And god the sudden warmness of those palms made his heart stutter.

And it gave him a thrill as well.

Knowing that in a matter of seconds these hands could explode and destroy everything that they touched.

Yet, they touched him so softly, his thumbs barely grazing any skin.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I do this.” Bakugou breathed out, his face inching closer and closer, his breath mingling with Kirishima’s.

Getting ever so close until eventually...

Kirishima closed his eyes in bliss, his own soft lips sliding against Bakugou’s rougher chapped ones.

He sighed through his nose, his own hands coming up to rest on Bakugou’s shoulders.

Wow, it felt so nice.

So right.

Like this was exactly the place his lips belonged.

Right on top of Bakugou’s.

He gasped for air as the blonde’s tongue warily poked between his lips, sliding in when Kirishima allowed.

“Woah okay!” Kirishima pulled away, chuckling as his face burned with excitement.

Bakugou smirked, poking his tongue out to swipe across his bottom lip. “Too much?” He teased.

Kirishima groaned loudly, falling on top of Bakugou’s knees to hide his enflamed face.

“Dude, you suck so much right now.” His voice was muffled against the blonde’s knees.

“Mm, too bad. You’re gonna have to live with it.”

Bakugou’s voice rumbled, the vibrations tickling Kiri’s cheeks.

Kirishima jolted up, a large toothy smile on his face.

“You mean...is this you trying to ask me out?” Kirishima whispered, leaning closer his cheeks starting to hurt from how wide his smile was.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, holding his hands up.

Kirishima yelled as Bakugou used one of his fingers to flick him painfully at the tip of his nose.

“Ow!” He looked to the blonde for answers, rubbing his abused nose.

“The fuck do you mean? Was me kissing you not enough dipshit?!” Bakugou sneered, his furrowed eyebrows making him look like a grumpy cat.

Kirishima chuckled, smiling as he leaned forward.

“No no, it was.” He used his hand to squish Bakugou’s cheeks together, placing a gentle kiss on his puckered lips.

Bakugou relaxed, humming against his lips. “Good.” He murmured.

“Good.” Kirishima leaned back, his eyes widening when he saw the smile on Bakugou’s face.

A smile, though not large, but wide enough to show his gleaming teeth.

He leaned in again to see if that smile tasted just as good as it looked.

It did.

[ageofevermore]

Adore You

summary → in which Harry goes away for a few weeks and upon his highly anticipated arrival home your daughter doesn’t recognize him. 

word count → 1.7k

note → this was meant to be set when Harry’s in Italy, but I screwed up so he went to Miami instead. 

add yourself to my taglist 

Harry had been away for weeks, leaving you home alone with Goldie and a recently adopted goldfish named Finn. The coast of Miami was beautiful from your little corner of the world back in London but from speaking with Harry so frequently, his experience had been filled with bad luck and pissed teenagers. He had been productive in developing new business relations, but he missed you both immensely.

Goldie wasn't handling the separation well either. She had spoken to Harry on the phone nightly, but even then she was inconsolable between every nap and clung to your torso desperately. Your little daddy's girl was in desperate need of a proper cuddle, yet the man for the job was oceans away.

His flight was set to come in Monday, narrowly avoiding a wicked storm as it passed directly over London. Goldie had been reassured for weeks upon weeks that Daddy was coming home soon, but every night she pitched the same prompt that he was lost at the shops.

Her sweet worry had come from memory of a trip down to the shops a few months back with you and Gemma. She had dropped her favorite stuffed animal out of the trolley and had gone hours without saying anything, only when you got to the car did you notice the missing stuffed elephant.

You promised her night after night that Daddy wasn't lost at the shops, but every morning her little green eyes filled with tears upon his prolonged arrival home. When Monday came it would have the same reaction as Christmas, only making the wait even harder to bare.

The sun was setting overtop of London, signaling another bedtime prep filled with sniffled and mindless babbles. At almost two Goldie wasn't all the interested in talking. She could formulate coherent words and short sentences, but you and Harry knew her expressions well enough to cater without verbal assistance. Some would consider her spoiled, and you couldn't completely disagree.

Bath time had become an acoustic concert, Fine Line playing softly as yours daughters preferred lullaby. Her little green eyes were barely open as she soaked in the overpriced bath bubbles, your hand never straying far from her back in fear of her tipping over from exhaustion. When you had drained the bath water and covered her little body in Harry's sworn by lavender baby magic lotion, she was asleep against your chest in minutes. The night was stripped of routine whining and crying, and that almost made it worse.

She just couldn't understand that daddy was coming back. Three weeks was the longest she had ever gone without him, not that she would remember his absence having been a newborn, but this four week excursion was weighing on her patience.

You went to bed that night with a heavy heart, ready to have your husband home and warming the bed beside you.

-

Monday had finally come.

You had woken up that morning to Goldie. It had been months since your daughter woke up crying, startling you into consciousness. Your first instinct was to grab the baby monitor, but that had been forgotten downstairs after a fight to the wash room last night. Rushing to your toddlers aid, your baby was laying on her stomach, reaching for the two pacifiers she had dropped over the edge of her crib.

"Monkey." You cooed, catching her attention. Your palms were up towards the ceiling, ready to pick her up and hold her close. At this point you were just as desperate for Harry as she was, and cuddling with his mini-me seemed like the best coping mechanism. "I miss Daddy too." You promised her, allowing yourself to tear up briefly.

"Dada?" She pleaded, clammy hands pushed against your cheeks and squishing your lips together into a fish pout. Any other day she would have laughed at your tight featured, but her little eyes were filled with too much sadness to find humor. "'ome?"

"Yeah. Daddy's coming home." You promised, nuzzling your nose against the soft blush covering her cheeks. She didn't seem to believe your promise, not that she had in the four weeks since he left, but she laid her head down on your shoulder and let her lashes flutter anyways.

Your morning carried on as it normally did, however it was hard to push aside your desire for Harry. Breakfast had taken thirty minutes, whereas it typically took close to an hour. Goldie was fussy, you were running low on diapers, and the laundry had still yet to be done. Tasks were piling up as weeks went by without your best mate helping you along.

You had set Goldie up with some cartoons in the play space downstairs, finally getting to the cutlery keeping home in your dishwasher. It couldn't have been six minutes since you stepped away, but already had your curious toddler gotten into something. The sound of plastic hitting the wooden flooring an obvious give away to her clumsy discovery.

"Bubba." You cooed, bending down to your toddlers level when her eyes filled with tears. She had just dropped a cup of water all over herself after whining that she didn't need a lid. You couldn't find the strength to be cross with her trembling face, so you forgot about the puddle on the floor, instead cuddling the confused and frustrated mini-Styles to your chest. "A few more hours, Gold."

After you had fixed her up with Harry's new merchandise and requested princess slippers, she clung to you miserably. Her nose continued to rub against your collarbone while curious fingers shoved into your shirt and held tightly to your bra. She had been doing the same thing for months, finding comfort in being so close to you.

You had sorted through a load of laundry with her in your lap, curiously poking at the warm clothes as they came from the dryer. She had tried to help for a few minutes before tugging at your shirt, little eyes begging to nurse.

You had only just pulled your shirt back down and over your bra when the front door opened. Just over two months ago Harry had gotten the rusted hinges fixed, therefore giving him the capability of sneaking up on the two of you.

A grin broke out across your face, wanting nothing more then to rush into the arms of your husband, but having to be mindful of the fussy baby on your hip. You set Goldie down, thankful that she didn't wiggle her way back into your embrace, and turned her body towards Harry. He was dressed in your favorite grey sweatpants from Nike, and a black shirt, his worn adidas shoes loosely tied around his feet.

"Whose that, baby girl?" You cooed, brushing your fingers through her golden locks of hair. She giggled, ready to run when suddenly her face crumbled and she fell backwards into your embrace. Your brows crinkled, looking up to share a worried frown with Harry.

Goldie had never had that reaction towards her Daddy.

"Monkey," You cooed, "What's a'matter?" You picked her up, holding her tightly against your chest with panicked thoughts.

Walking her closer to Harry despite the increasing volume of her terrified sobs, your husbands heart looked like it had shattered into a million pieces. His hands, usually adorned with a multitude of rings were bare, and clammy as he wiping down the sides of his sweats. You passed the toddler off to him, wincing when she desperately grabbed a handful of your hair.

"No Mama." She cried, reaching out for you. You had seen her get worked up with strangers before, but that was always during tour when somebody would grab her from Harry after sound check. "No."

"Calm down, Petal." Harry tried to soothe the toddler, a hand pushing her face into his neck the way he knows she loves, "Just me, s'just Daddy."

You scanned Harry sadly, watching him try his hardest to calm the waterworks. Your eyes fell from his, down to the sculptured patch of light hair above his lip. Your heart hammered when you realized why your daughter was so distraught, and you giggled. She didn't recognize him, used to his bare face or occasional stubble. Stepping closer to the struggling pair, you gently grabbed one of Goldie's flailing limbs.

"Look. Hey, hey we don't hit, Indie." You reprimanded softly, bringing her little hand up to softly caress Harry's mustache, "It's just Daddy. I know, he's got that silly thing on his face, but it's just Daddy."

Harry knew you weren't fond of his mustache, you had made that very clear the minute you saw the first picture. What he hadn't prepared for though, was the possibility that his little love wouldn't recognize him. She was quite skittish, much like he was as a child, but he figured with your anxiety, he gave his little Goldie quite the fright.

"Be right back, love." Harry handed you the clingy toddler, rushing off towards your en-suite with a simple kiss to the forehead. Your eyes followed as he went, but you stayed with Goldie by the door. You figured familiarity was best right now, having never been in this position.

It was a few minutes later that Harry came back down, freshly shaven and barefoot. Goldie had calmed down since he left, but her usually bright eyes were puffy and red.

"Look at Daddy." You cooed gently, coaxing her into turning her head and looking towards the man that loved her more then anything in the world. You knew that if push came to shove Harry's first priority would be Goldie, and seeing him so distraught earlier only highlighted his complete adoration for her.

The blonde toddler in your arms squealed, whining and reaching out for Harry to hold her. You grinned widely at your husband, happy to see them both so relieved and ecstatic. Once he was close enough for Goldie to reach, she thrust herself into his arms. Her head down his chest and her hands went to wrap around his ringlets, sighing contently into his hold. Her little green eyes red, but filled with such love and admiration.

"Dada." She babbled, leaning closer to place a wet, open mouthed kiss on his collarbone. She had done the same thing nightly, and Harry hated how much he missed his slobbery kisses while in Miami.

"Yeah, Daddy's home, baby love."

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twelve: I Learn the Hard Way I Love to Talk

Kansas City was Luz’s kind of weather. It was sunny and hot right as the sun began to rise, and Luz felt her muscle warm with the sun. The three of them got off the bus and headed to a café to grab some breakfast so Luz could catch them up on her dreams somewhere a little more private.

They went into a Starbucks and each ordered, taking turns using the bathroom to freshen up. They decided to grab a couple of wraps and snacks for the road since they didn’t know when they’d have time again. The barista insisted they get the staff discount, (Luz swears that were all just the flower crowns and not her bargaining for a lower price) and they packed some of the food away in their backpacks and took a seat at one of the window tables. Luz picked at her ham and cheese sandwich as she recalled her dream, the memory of them making her lose her appetite.

Gus had taken a big bite out of a blueberry muffin as she recalled the mountain dream, and he got so excited he choked and needed to swallow down some hot chocolate.

“That must have been Hestia you saw in the cage. So we know that she’s still in Colorado.”

Luz nodded in agreement. That did make sense. The girl had seen Luz staring right at her, and spoken directly to her. If that didn’t fit the description of a goddess she didn’t know what did. She moved on to the dream about Amity, but this one she said a lot slower, doing her best to keep her temper. Amity might have been mean to Luz when they met, and she didn’t like hearing that she had bullied Willow, but nobody deserved to be treated the way Luz saw her being treated. They had to get her out of there. When Luz finished, Willow and Gus seemed to share the sentiment.

“That’s terrible!” Gus exclaimed, being careful to not choke this time.

“She’s been alone for over a week now,” Willow added with a frown. “I don’t know how much longer that she’s going to hold out.”

“Well, I know where she is. I saw the address in the dream. 1200, West 55th street.” Luz said, shoveling the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, her body filling with newfound determination. “Let’s go get her.”

“It’s definitely a trap,” Gus warned, but he was also packing away his food garbage, so Luz knew he was also ready to go. “We need to be careful.”

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Luz said confidently. “The first guy even said that he would be dealing with us on his own. It’s three on one! How could we lose?”

“It’s bad luck to talk like that, Luz,” Willow whispered lowly. She was rubbing her arms nervously. “You’ll jinx us.”

The three of them threw out their trash and headed out into the city. They called for a cab and squeezed into the backseat, asking the driving to take them to the address. It was the weekend, so there wasn’t too much traffic, and before they knew it they had pulled up to a huge white manor. They paid the driver and got out, exchanged awed glances at the mansion before them.

Luz had seen it in her dream, but in person, it was a lot grander. It was an old colonial-style mansion with a few modern twists, with big windows and a triple glass garage. It was sitting on at least two acres of land. The stone plaque she had seen in her dream was there, and it was gated by a huge fence. Outside the gate, there was the huge sculpture of a lyre, a tell-tale sign from Theseus that they were in the right place.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” Luz asked, feeling a lot meeker than she was before.

“We could try being stealthy, getting in, taking Amity, getting out,” Gus offered. “I don’t know how effective a full-frontal approach would be.”

“What about the fence?” She said, gesturing to it.

Willow hummed, before taking a couple of steps back and running. She leaped at the fence, climbing it with ease and leaping to the other side, landing in a roll. She turned to the two of them and smiled. “Just like the rock wall at camp!”

“Woah!” Luz said, her mouth dropping. She forgot how agile Willow could be when she wanted to. Sharing a look with Gus, the two of them followed her, albeit not as gracefully as Willow. When they hit the ground, they began to quietly head through the garden to the main entrance. Crouching behind the entrance, they looked at one another with a raised brow.

“Now what?” Luz said, but before Gus could open his mouth, the hair on the back of Luz’s neck rose, and the sound of the most beautiful instrument Luz had ever heard echoed throughout the air. The doors to the manor swung open, and without even realizing she was doing it, Luz stood. It was enchanting, and Luz needed to get closer.

Willow snapped, and Luz’s head cleared immediately. She shook it out, and looked around in panic. She had walked all the way up to the entrance of the door, and so had Gus before she even knew what had happened. Gus looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head.

“What happened?”

“Musical enchantments,” Willow said with a frown. “I remember the Apollo campers experimenting with those my first summer at camp. It’s not too dissimilar to plant magic, it also comes from the heart. We’ll have to be careful.”

“How do you ignore something like that?” Luz asked, her heart hammering in her chest from the effect of the music.

“Try and keep your mind grounded,” Willow offered. “I’ve had some practice, so you’ll be at a disadvantage, but if you try and focus on your surroundings we’ll be okay.”

Now that they were staring into the foyer of the manor, Luz was getting a lot more nervous. The whole house seemed to glare at her eerily.

“It’s creepy,” Gus said, and Luz nodded. They all drew their weapons, and Aletheia shifted into a knife. Gus clicked the button on his watch and drew his shield.

“Let’s stay together,” Luz said, doing her best to muster up that power of Hermes. Her friends would need it. “We’re strong together, and we can take whatever is thrown at us.”

Willow and Gus perked up a little, and together they headed into the house. It was much bigger on the inside than they had anticipated, and Luz bit her lip trying to remember where the room Amity was being kept in was.

“It was facing the window, towards the street…” she mumbled, turning right into another foyer. "It must be down here."

Sure enough, they soon entered the room, and Luz was shocked at how familiar it looked. Her dream had gotten everything right. But when Luz picked up speed to get to where Amity had been chained the night before, she turned the corner and came upon nothing.

She wasn’t there.

Luz faltered, her eyes widening in panic, and she heard Willow and Gus inhale sharply. But before they could turn and start looking around the house, the music started again, and Luz felt her muscles getting tighter. They were so heavy like she had been working out for a week straight and she couldn’t stand anymore. She dropped to her knees, unable to stop it. Next to her, Gus dropped his shield.

“Looking for someone?”

Luz did her best to turn her body to the sound of the voice. Standing in the archway of the room from the entrance they had come through was the man from Luz’s dreams, now dressed in a white cotton shirt and cuffed blue jeans. His black hair was gelled back, and he had olive skin and dark eyes that were glinting at them humorously. On his belt was Amity’s sword, and Luz’s eyes hardened at the sight. He had a golden lyre in one hand, that seemed to be playing the music on its own, and in the other, there was a set of chains wrapped around his hand. When she looked down at what the chain was connecting too, Luz’s eyes widened.

At his feet Amity was kneeling, looking just as battered as she had in the dream, her hands chained together in her lap. But now, at least, she was awake. Her gold eyes were misty like she hadn’t slept well in a long time, but they blinked in familiarity when they landed on Luz and her friends. Luz immediately perked up, swallowing hard to try and pull herself to her knees. All she managed was to stand on one knee.

Luz tried to shout, her face contorted in anger, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Gus was trying next to her as well, and it had the same effect. They were quieted.

“I have heard of your abilities, daughter of Hermes.” The man said, shooting her a cold smile. “My lyre will have stopped your voice for now. Try all you want, but it is fruitless.”

Next to her, Willow was still standing, seemingly unaffected by the music. The man lifted a brow to her.

“I have not seen a demigod resist my music in a long time. Are you a sister of mine?”

“No, my mother is Demeter,” Willow said, but from the look on her face, she didn’t really want to say anything. The man furrowed his brow further, speechless. Willow took the opportunity to step forward, clutching her sword. She did her best at a smile, adjusting the crown on her forehead.

“Please sir, don’t hurt me or my friends. We just want to leave as soon as possible and be out of your way.”

Orpheus faltered for just a moment before the smile returned to his face.

“Ah, the crown of Antheia. No wonder you are resisting so well to my magic. You have a little of yours on you as well, don’t you?”

Willow tightened her grip on her kopis, clearly disappointed that didn’t work.

“Let my friend go. Theseus sent us to take her home.”

“Theseus?” The man said with a laugh. “Has the plan changed yet again? I am not interested in playing 'quest' like I did in my last life. It drove me mad, chasing around prophecies left and right. No, I was given my orders. You won’t be taking her today.”

Willow glanced at Luz and Gus worriedly, and Luz figured out what was happening. Willow was buying them time. Luz inhaled the best she could, trying to follow Willow’s advice to ground herself. She pushed the music to the back of her mind, trying to focus on the quest at hand. Amity was still blinking at them like she couldn’t believe they were there. Luz pooled her strength. They had to get her out of this house.

“What do you mean, playing quest?” Willow said, feigning curiosity. She was taking a gamble on the man enjoying talking about himself, which seemed to work because he smirked.

“Back in Greece, I was a great musician. I traveled with Jason and his Argonauts on a series of quests far more interesting than the one you are currently on. I was a great asset to their team, I curbed the Sirens with a single song on my lyre. We brought glory to all demigods!”

The story seemed familiar to Luz, but she was too focused on gathering her strength. Willow thankfully put the pieces together for her.

“You’re Orpheus, the son of Apollo.”

Orpheus crinkled his nose. “Must you refer to me as his son?”

“But he gave you that lyre,” Willow said, confused. “Why would you not be proud to be his son?”

“I am not proud to be any sort of thing to these gods,” Orpheus retorted with a low growl. “The gods are the reason I lost Euridice. They played me like a fiddle, and I was the one to pay the price for it! I dedicated my music to my father and he stood by and watched while I suffered! When I died, I swore to the judges that I would never praise the gods. I was a heretic and a fool for trusting them to begin with. ”

The more his voice raised, the harder it was for Luz to keep her focus and not submit to the music. It seemed to get louder every time Orpheus raised his voice. Next to her, Gus’s face was turning purple as he tried to ground himself. Willow shuffled, realizing she was running out of time. If they just had a couple of seconds… but they still needed a plan, and they definitely couldn’t talk now.

Luz looked at the lyre, angry that a dumb set of strings had bested her. But as she looked at them moving back and forth, a thought overcame her. She glanced down at Aletheia, still in its knife form, and clenched it.

It would be a Hail Mary for sure. She wouldn’t have time to aim she would just have to throw. There was the risk she could hit Amity, and if she hit Orpheus it probably wouldn’t do much but buy them a couple of seconds.

“You let Euridice go because you looked back in the underworld,” Willow insisted, and Orpheus’ face purpled with rage. “Hades and Persephone told you the rules.”

“They tricked me!” He yelled, and Luz and Gus buckled at the new volume the music was making. Willow even winced, clutching her temple. At Orpheus’ feet, Amity groaned, and Luz felt her heartbeat quicken. They were running out of time.

She needed a miracle. Closing her eyes, Luz ducked her head and prayed.

Dad, I don’t know if you’re listening, but if you are, please. I need your help to throw my knife straight. Help me save my friends.

She didn’t know if it was the newfound strength from taking a moment to collect herself and resist the music, or if it was her dad’s blessing, or even if it was just unmeasured and unearned hubris, but when Luz opened her eyes she was ready.

She looked up at Willow, who was looking at her expectantly. Luz still couldn’t speak, but she did have her hands. She looked at Willow desperately and held up five fingers at her side. A countdown.

Somehow, Willow understood. Her eyes widened, and she turned back to Orpheus as Luz put down the third finger.

“They didn’t trick you! You made the mistake, you knew what would happen if you looked!” Willow exclaimed, doing her best to get a rise out of him.

Orpheus roared, clenching his fists and turning his gaze directly onto Willow. “I will make my music silence you!”

Willow stumbled as the effect shifted between them, dropping to her knees, and Luz felt the restrains of the music break from her. She scrambled to her feet, rearing back with Aletheia and throwing with all her might. Somehow, it sailed directly into the lyre, cutting the middle two strings in half and silencing the music for good. Luz felt her muscles relax as all the strength came flooding back into her body, and she turned to Gus and opened her mouth, finally able to speak.

“Go!”

There was instant chaos. Gus scrambled to his feet and charged, knocking Orpheus flat with his shield and the demigod yelped in surprise as he stumbled, skidding across the tile. Gus stabbed through Amity’s chains with his spear, breaking them. Willow raced over and used her kopis to cut the chains around her hands, and Amity finally was free.

Luz took off sprinting towards Aletheia, which was lying on the floor across the room. As she scrambled to pick it up, she squealed in surprise and dove left, barely escaping being cleaved in two by a xiphos.

Orpheus glared furiously down at Luz, gripping Amity’s sword tightly in his hand.

“You broke my lyre, you feeble excuse for a half-blood! You will pay for this!”

Luz’s eyes widened as he swung, and Luz had no choice but to dive again. She wasn’t nearly skilled enough with the knife to deflect a sword like this one, definitely not without getting her hand cut off. She didn’t think any amount of nectar could grow a new one back.

The sword swung and missed as Luz rolled, and she back kicked as hard as she could towards his hands. Luz felt something connect as he screamed in pain, and she grinned with glee at the realization she must have hit his wrists. She heard the clattering of something on the floor, and scrambled to her feet, only to immediately hit the floor again as she got kicked in the ribs hard. The wind was knocked from Luz’s lungs, and she cried out in pain as he stepped hard on her back, pinning her to the ground.

“Belos was right about you demigod’s,” he hissed, pushing harder to press Luz’s face into the tile. “You’re all just as foolish as we were.”

“Luz!”

Orpheus cried out again as Gus rammed into him with his shield, knocking him flat. Luz coughed as Willow helped her to her feet, and when her vision cleared, she smiled when she realized that Amity was standing, even if it was a little shaky, leaning on Willow for support. Gus backed Orpheus into a corner with his spear, holding it up menacingly at him.

“Stay back!”

“Oh, how menacing. Aren’t you just the scariest little boy?” Orpheus said sarcastically. He lifted his nose to Gus, mocking him. “Stay back!”

Gus flushed red with embarrassment. Luz couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and she growled under her breath, unable to contain herself.

“How can you seriously call us names? You’re acting like a little kid!” Luz stepped forward, glaring right down at him. Now that he was weaponless, alone, and overpowered, Luz could see right through him. He was just like Theseus. Bitter, lonely, and entitled because he thought he deserved better.

“You say that it’s the god's fault you got what you got, but that’s not true,” Luz said, and she saw Orpheus blink like he couldn’t believe how Luz was speaking to him. “You got what you got because you made mistakes that you blamed on everybody but yourself. And now you’re doing it again.”

There was so much she wanted to say to Orpheus, but she knew it was a waste of her breath. He had made his choices long ago, but Luz refused to let him embarrass and upset her friends because he couldn’t take accountability for his actions.

“I haven’t done this demigod thing for long, but I know that by putting your faith in Belos, and trying to destroy the gods, you are making a mistake that you’ll regret. We are not going to make the same mistake.”

Orpheus’ lips pulled into a sneer. “Tough words from you, half-blood. Why don’t you go find Belos yourself and fulfill the prophecy.”

Next to Willow, Amity inhaled sharply, and Luz looked over, her eyes widening. She looked terrified. Swallowing, Luz steadied her breath, turning back to Orpheus with a steeled expression.

“No. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to leave you alive, and leave this place. Then you’re going to tell Belos that we’re coming for him, and we’re going to free Hestia and save Olympus. That’s a promise.”

Orpheus quieted, pondering this for a moment. He looked directly into Luz’s eyes and then scoffed.

“I was right, you are foolish.”

Luz didn’t respond to that, she just touched her knife and Aletheia flipped back to a ring. She put it on her finger and walked over to pick up Amity’s sword. Heading back over to Amity, who had been watching the whole conversation in silence, Luz extended it out to her by the hilt.

“Here, you can have this back.”

Amity blinked at it like she wasn’t sure what it was. She looked up at Luz, frowning. Luz just smiled, wiggling it so she got the hint to take it. Eventually, she smiled softly back at Luz and strapped the sword to her belt. Already she was looking a little better, though she clearly needed some serious rest.

“Come on guys,” Luz said, passing one more look back at Orpheus who was glaring at Luz like he was imagining her head on a stick. She completely turned her back on him, heading back the way they came. “We’re done here.”

The four of them headed slowly out of the mansion, and towards the gate. With a swing of her kopis, Willow cut the lock on the gate, and they pushed it open, heading out into the street.

They started to walk, but their progress was slow. Amity was limping on her leg, and she couldn’t move very fast, and Gus and Willow were walking in front and behind keeping an eye out for either Orpheus following them or sending help.

They walked a significant distance from the manor in silence, none of them sure where they were really going before Amity couldn’t go any farther. She exhaled heavily and almost collapsed, and Luz caught her in her arms.

“Amity!” She cried out.

“I’m okay,” she breathed after a few moments. “I think I hurt my leg.”

“We shouldn’t have let you walk this far,” Luz mumbled, feeling guilty. Amity had been hurt for over a week now. She needed medical attention.

“There’s a little shaded area we can rest just ahead,” Willow said quietly. Luz realized she hadn’t said a word to Amity since they left the manor. She wondered if now that she was safe, all their skeletons in the closet were starting to resurface. Even Gus, who was usually quite friendly, had seemed to pick up the awkwardness too and was also unusually quiet.

“I can keep going,” Amity said, gritting her teeth and trying to push herself off of Luz to keep going. Luz shook her head, tightening her hold around Amity.

“No, you’re hurt. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

Amity pinked, opening her mouth to protest. “Luz, you don’t need to-”

“And, scoop!” Luz held Amity up in her arms and continued to walk. She wasn’t going to let her hurt herself further because she was trying to act all tough around her friends. Luz knew Amity had a lot of layers, but she could sacrifice some of them for her personal safety.

Amity must have realized this too because she didn’t protest for much longer. Luz could tell after a couple more minutes of walking that Amity was a lot more exhausted than she’d let on. Even though they were the same size, she was practically weightless. She probably hadn’t been given much in terms of eating since she’d been captured. Despite the sunny weather, her body was shaking too. She didn’t think it was from the cold, and with a jolt of understanding, Luz realized it must have been from fear. Luz frowned at this, turning her head to whisper quietly to her so Willow and Gus wouldn’t hear.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through in the last couple of weeks,” she said, and Amity tensed, turning her head away like she didn’t want to talk about it. Luz hesitated, not wanting to push her, so instead she tried a gentler approach.

“We’re going to figure this out together, ok? You’ll be able to rest, and then we can talk when you’re feeling up for it.”

Amity swallowed, and Luz looked down at her face. She seemed to be grappling with something, her eyes giving away how stressed out she really was. Luz felt guilt swirl in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to upset her more than she already was. Just as she was going to open her mouth to apologize, her eyebrows widened in surprise when she felt Amity rest her head onto Luz’s shoulder.

“Okay,” she said simply.

Luz felt a smile she couldn’t control pull at her lips. Maybe they were on the right path as friends after all.

Amity mumbled something else into her shoulder and Luz frowned leaning down.

“What was that?”

Amity pinked again, looking up to meet Luz’s eyes. Her gold eyes flashed in embarrassment.

“I said thank you. For saving me.”

Luz grinned, tilting her head and smiling so hard her eyes squinted.

“That’s what friends do!”

[silverwhiteraven]

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 2 - MLB Kryptonian AU

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 3 ]

[A/N: Okk, so this was SUPPOSED to be a 'Kara is like a Big Sister/Mentor' fic, but unforeseen influences have caused me to swap out the intended Kara from the Supergirl TV series for the Kara in the DC Super Hero Girls 2019 cartoon. Basically... I've become a Karanette shipper and it's now the current shipping goal. Don't worry, it probably won't become the main focus of the fic, likely a slow-burn, and the endgame ship MIGHT change depending on how things go. And Marinette still gets her mentoring from Kara, just, a lot more awkwardly at first. Now, onward!! ]

[Summary: There they are, the Soups! Supes? Eh, sounds the same. Either way, it's time Marinette meets them, and a little progress is made. ]

Marinette fell back against a corner of the wall, the ground shaking under her feet and causing her to lose her footing. The large piece of debris she had taken refuge behind shifted as more pieces of cement and stone fell against it, creating a makeshift lean-to that protected her from the rest of the falling chunks of building. Unfortunately, as the ground settled and the rain of Daily Planet rubble ceased, it left her buried and swallowed in darkness. 

She held her breath, waiting, listening for her shelter to start collapsing in on her, but it held. She sighed, and when she took a breath, coughed as the grainy dust filled her lungs. As she fully collapsed to the ground, she quickly shrugged off her outer-shirt and held it over her nose and mouth, tying it in place behind her head. A few more clear breaths, and she settled down fully. 

Now was not the time to panic, she knew that, but it didn't stop her heart from hammering in instinctual fear of potential injury. Or worse… 

The reverberations of a yell knocked her from her panicked musings, and she looked up, though there was nothing for her to see but more darkness. The voice was rather clear, though, as though it was being made to travel far and through any obstacle, even the broken pieces of a building.

“Kal! Did you get the bastard who hit the Daily Planet?” 

The voice was feminine with a hint of a husky tone, and Marinette automatically pictured them as someone who would fit well with combat-style boots and a jean or leather jacket. Though something seemed a tad familiar about the name Kal.

“Language, Supergirl, but yes. They’re currently in D.E.O. hands, they can handle things from here.”

Supergirl? Now that was a name she recognized a bit more. Alya had raved about her the moment she finished explaining who Majestia was after she first transferred to their school almost a year ago. The hero was a fresh new mystery by all of half a year at that point, appearing both on her own as well as alongside Superman. The reporter had gone on a tangent about seeing signs of Supergirl not getting the credit she was due, her accomplishments often credited to the more well known Superman. 

Yet it explained why she recognized the name, ‘Kal’. It was what Supergirl was often heard calling the other hero. ‘Kal-El’ was the full name, if her memory of Alya-brand hero-rants was correct, revealed some years back by other aliens of his same origin hellbent on attempting world domination. 

“Oh, goodie,” Supergirl declared. “Then we can do a final sweep for anyone in need of saving, right?” 

“Of course. Did you already clear this area?” Superman questioned, and there was an answering scoff. 

“Yeah, I was just getting to it. All the civilians seemed to have cleared out when the planet started falling, I don’t-” She cut off, and there was a moment of silence when Marinette realized she could have been calling for help. 

No, scratch that, she thought as she took another breath that smelled of gravel. Supergirl called out once more, “Superman,” voice now laced with a newfound urgency, “there’s someone trapped under there.” No calling for help, Marinette’s internal musing concluded, damaging my lungs when the heroes are already here is a stupid idea.

“Where?” Superman’s voice was instantly attentive, clearly ready to take action.

“Up against the building,” Supergirl answered, just as ready. “Do you see her?”

A pause, and then, “Yeah, I see her, let’s move, we need to get her out.”

“Already on it,” came Supergirl's proclamation, accompanied by a loud, metallic creaking.

“Need any-”

“Nope, I got this baby cousin!” There was a loud sigh in response to that, though the scrape of moving concrete made it clear that the banter wasn't getting in their way of working.

“I’m older than you,” he grumbled, not as loudly as before, but it was closer now to Marinette, and still said clearly enough for her to hear.

“Not according to our birthdays back home!” Supergirl sing-songed, though clearly much further away now, and it was punctuated by another dulled clang of metal. Marinette assumed that the hero had just finished moving the large decorative brass planet over into the open area of the park, out of the way. 

A grunt is Superman’s response to the tease, and more stone grinds together loudly as it’s moved. It only takes a moment before the noise is joined by more from another section, and Marinette relaxes just a bit knowing that both superheroes are working to free her. She wishes she could help them, but she knew the best way to do that was to stay put and not touch anything that could collapse her shelter onto her head. 

Marinette coughed again as a dusting of debris sprinkled down on her head, and the external digging from Supergirl’s side seemed to get just a bit faster, closely followed by Superman’s. 

A crack of light split the darkness from above her on her right, and Marinette couldn't help but crack a smile at the excited whoop Supergirl let out as the hole grew a little larger. It wasn't long before the area around the main piece of concrete shielding Marinette was clear enough for the big chunk to be shifted from above her and completely uncover her little space of safety. 

A head of shoulder length, ruffled blonde hair popped up from behind the slab of concrete, grinning triumphantly down at Marinette. The accompanying steel blue eyes shone just as brightly. “Why hello there, cutie,” Supergirl greeted, “need a hand?”

Marinette barely had time to comprehend what the other teen said and blush brilliantly through the dust in embarrassment before the slab was once more moving. It tilted away as Supergirl released it, and a slight grunt could be heard from Superman, most likely now the one supporting all its weight. It continued to shift until it was fully lifted up, and Superman, indeed carrying it, was moving it away to the edge of the debris field. 

Supergirl, floating in the air, flew closer to Marinette, smile more toned down but still warm and welcoming. The hero reached out a hand towards her and elaborated, “Let’s get you out of all these rocks, darlin’.” Her voice has a brief accent on the last word, and Marinette bets it to be a picked up trait. “It really can't be all that comfortable, yeah?” the hero finally adds. 

With a hesitant nod, Marinette reaches back towards the hero. She can’t help but yelp as she’s tugged up to her feet. Then she yelps once more as Supergirl dips down further and pulls Marinette forward even more, straight into the hero’s arms where she's held securely against Supergirl as she floats back upward.

She clung tightly to the hero, and Marinette’s eyes widened as she looked down, staring at all the destruction littering the once clear street. She looks upwards, and can see the damage to the Daily Planet’s upper levels. She’s drawn back to the debris as Superman rejoins them, giving a cursory glance to his cousin and her charge before making quick work of the remaining mess that sat in the way of the main doors to the Daily Planet’s lobby. 

“Uhm,” Marinette spoke up hesitantly, glancing at Supergirl, still holding her and flying above the mess. “Should we-?”

“Help? Nah, Soup’s a big boy, he’s got this; I wouldn't worry about it. Besides, Buttercup, I doubt he would let you help anyways, after being trapped like that. I sure wouldn't. And if I was in your place, I wouldn't be wanting to, either.”

Gods, what's with all the nicknames? Marinette couldn't help her continued, everlasting embarrassment at the whole situation, and the nicknames didn't help much. She at least found solace in realizing they were likely just a force of habit in the hero, seeing as how she was calling Superman by various ones, too. 

She went back to watching the older hero working below them, clearing a quick path from the doors into the clearer areas. Her brow furrowed just a bot, it seemed like they had dropped back down a bit in the air, but not by much. 

Superman was quick to join them in the air once done, and they flew higher as though it was the superheroes’ unconscious instinct to do so, just to get some distance from the civilians. Marinette held tighter to Supergirl just in case.

“This was the only area with substantial damage from the fight,” Superman finally declares to Supergirl once they’re comfortable. “I’ll do a quick sweep of the city for any more trapped civilians, but we should be good from here on. Think you can handle her?” He gives an acknowledging nod to Marinette, and she shrinks a bit at the unexpected attention. 

“Oh, yeah,” was the confident reply as Supergirl held her just a little bit closer, and Marinette hoped it was just her imagination that the hero’s hold on her had been looser than it had started before the grip tightened. The closer hold still elicited a soft squeak from Marinette, and she was grateful that they either didn't notice or didn’t mind enough to point it out by saying something or looking at her. “I can handle this little sweetheart, no worries! Go do your hero thing.”

“Are you sure?” He checked, looking skeptical, but in a cautious way rather than one that was actually doubtful. It made sense, if Supergirl really was still green behind the ear with superheroing, he would need to make sure his mentoring was sticking.

“Did you check her for injuries?” He asked imploringly, clearly covering the bases he was used to.

“Oh! Right! Sapphire!” The addition of yet another nickname to the growing collection was giving the situation an odd sense of normalcy, and Marinette gave Supergirl a questioning look in answer. “We want X-Ray you to make sure you aren't hurt or anything like that. May I?”

Marinette nods, “Oh, sure,” she confirms, “I don't think anything hit me, though, I was pretty quick and I feel fine.”

“Mhm, mhm, yeah,” Supergirl absently acknowledged, already giving her a glance over. “Yeah, you look good to me, I’d even say pretty darn fi…” The almost flirtatious comment fades along with her grin as it transforms into a confused frown.

Tag List:  @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes

[marithlizard]

Reactions to RWBY v8c5, “Amity”

You know, no other season of RWBY has felt quite like this. Even near the end of v3, we didn't know what we were getting into.  And even near the end of v7, we still had hope.    Do the rest of you have hope in stock?  All  I've got on aisle 8 is assorted flavors of dread. ;)

Penny, you sensible adorable muffin.  You don't realize how unwell your dad is, I'm pretty sure, but you know a bad idea when you see one.

So Pietro has enough robots to do the Amity physical labor.  That's fair.  And it sounds like they're shortcutting important steps to save time,and launching themselves with...bombs? Yike.

Prerecorded message, that's good too.  And Amity retains steering capabilities, so in theory they won't be stuck up there like I thought.  

ARRGH Pietro you idiot. Penny needs to get the fuck away because Salem needs her to open the vault and take the staff, which will crash Atlas!  Since that point has somehow not been hammered into her head, you need to hammer it more!  "I'm your father do what I say" will not motivate her for very much longer at all.  Maria knows it too.

Hi, Cinder.  

Ironwood does not seem surprised that Amity is launching.  Will he actually sabotage the plan to call for help just because it wasn't his plan?  I don't know.   His actions have not made any sense to me since the end of v7.

Ooh,  Cinder forging spears out of the metal floor is a great image, and not something we've seen her do before.  

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA  MARIA RIPLEY!  

I did not expect this episode to make me laugh out loud. Oh, I needed that.  :)  Silly and glorious at  the same time.  

Neo came too!    Ahhh...crap. Neo and Emerald together vs an aged Maria will not go well. But she seems pleased by the challenge.  

RWBY space-ish battle!  Do Maidens not need air?  Are the others all inside and protected by life support?  Eh, fine, I'll roll with it.

Yeah, Cinder is too smart to be lured far.

go Maria go  Neo has wiped the floor with every other hero she's fought,  but Maria's just laughing and blocking her with these almost dismissive strikes.   This is EPIC.  I'm actually slowing down the speed and replaying bits to savor them.

(We were so robbed - imagine Maria training the kids in combat, Izumi Curtis-style.)

And with one line Cinder shatters all the theories about her being genuinely subservient to Salem. I didn't think so.  Cinderella  doesn't think of herself as working for the fairy godmother.

YIKES Pietro, why haven't you hit the play button yet?  It'd be anticlimactic if Amity exploded before the message even started to broadcast.

yeep Cinder straddling Penny mid-air and grappling her face with the Grimm arm is ...quite the image.  Followed by even more so.

Emerald and Cinder communicating with a glance.  Agh whatever it is it's going to be bad.

Neo not down for the count, alas.  And a ring of illusory Cinders. Can Penny's robotic senses see through illusions?

Yes, yes they can.  Can't pull off a PvP twice!

And Cinder, saved only by Emerald (which she will not appreciate at all),  limps off with nothing to show for it.   Going back to the whale to get punished would be a terrible idea - I wonder if Emerald and Neo will make their own decision now,with  Cinder unconscious?

Oh, Pietro. Oh, Penny.  This isn't the flavor of sacrifice  I guessed at but it is heartbreaking.  (Is  Penny choosing now, in the back of her mind, who to think about and bequeath the Maiden powers to?)

Ruby's message!  going to everyone!  Oh,  Whitley  hiding in the office looks like  he's actually affected and thinking.  

Sun and Neptune:  "Dude."  (very nice shot there, wow)

Wait, did Ruby just explain Maidens and relics and we skipped over that part of the message?  

SHOPKEEP

GOODWITCH  I've  never seen her look so shocked

yeah, sure, shut off the message and don't get your intelligence, Harriet. good move.

Ohh Salem  looks actively pleased, watching this message.   Dread level: spiking  high

Yep, Ironwood is continuing to act as - well, they used to say "cartoon villain", didn't they, but we have so many superior counterexamples now.  Why not at least wait until the message is finished?  What good does it do him or Atlas, to deliberately panic and harm the rest of the world? What point to it other than petty malice against Ruby and her team for opposing him?   What on earth IS his plan to fight Salem now, and how does he think working with Watts could possibly not backfire?

It's just so breathtakingly dumb.  I don't understand at all.   What do the writers think they're doing? If anything...well.   If anything could make this consistent, it would be that Ironwood has already switched to Team Salem offscreen.  That a deal has been struck through Watts.    That too would  be dumb of him, but it would make his behavior line up.

Tai!! poor tai :(

Winter looks so unhappy, as well she might.

Watts what did you grab there.  Okay, no deal.  (And gosh isn't it funny how they went from guns constantly pointed at Watts from all sides to no one watching him at all for crucial seconds.   Not the Ace Ops, not  Winter, not Ironwood who just now accused him of subverting orders.   UGH)

uh. Uh oh.  guys?  guys I have been wrong all this time.

I thought Salem's Grimm pools were drying up.

But it appears they were being diverted.  Or else they already ran across the world, streams along fault lines,  welling up to the surface now. A river  of Grimm.  oh lovely.

Maybe Salem's just so confident she doesn't care about the broadcast.  What does it matter what the little scurrying mortals do at this point? 

[ironwoman359]

Becoming unusually clumsy and fumbling simple tasks. Logicality ( I love all of your amazing works)

Too Close for Comfort 

Summary: This is for @sugarglider9603​‘s Mario AU, cuz I’ve had it on my mind and I love it so much. Patton is kidnapped yet again by Bowceit, King of the Koopas, but the Super Bros Logan and Virgil are there to save the day. So why does Patton still feel so wrong?

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, being tied up/gagged, cartoon violence, cartoon villain Deceit, crying, dealing (poorly, at first) with emotions. Logicality, side Prinxiety. Word Count: 2,226 (This got longer than I meant it to be, oops.)

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“Do you, King Bowceit, take Prince Patton to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“I do,” Bowceit said with a chuckle. 

“And do you, Prince Patton, take King Bowceit to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

Patton didn’t answer, but that was probably because he was tied up too tightly to move and had a gag stuffed in his mouth. A hammer bro next to him grabbed his hair, trying to force his head to nod yes. 

Suddenly, the door slammed open and the air filled with heat as a fireball soared through the chapel, colliding with the hammer bro and blasting him away. Patton’s knees nearly buckled in relief as Logan stormed into the room with fury in his eyes, Virgil hot on his heels. 

Bowceit hissed, and pulled a lever that was next to the altar. The floor beneath Patton’s feet dropped away, and he fell into a dark abyss. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for a hard landing, but before he hit the floor someone reached out and caught hold of the end of the ropes that were wrapped around his arms. He peeked out through one eyelid just in time to see Bowceit Jr. toss him into a cage with a chain hooked over the top. The little snake pulled another lever, and hopped on top of the cage as it rose back up out of the pit and high above the party’s heads. 

“Good luck getting to your Precious Prince Patton now!” Bowceit cackled, and from his new vantage point, Patton could see Logan staring up at him desperately. Patton tried to send him an encouraging smile, but he wasn’t sure how much of it translated through the gag. He saw Virgil tug on Logan’s shoulder, and the brother’s must’ve said something to each other that Patton was too far away to hear, because they suddenly sprung into action. 

Logan ran forward and threw a pair of fireballs at Bowceit, knocking him off kilter. Virgil dashed after him and jumped, landing squarely on the snake man’s head. Logan then spun around in a roundhouse kick, his foot colliding solidly with Bowceit’s backside. The koopa king went flying into the air, Virgil hanging on for dear life. At the peak of Bowceit’s arc, Virgil pushed off, using the snake’s head as a springboard to enhance his own jump height. 

Even with all of that, and with Virgil being the better jumper of the two plumbers, he only barely managed to catch the lip of Patton’s cage with one hand, and for a few tense seconds Patton couldn’t breathe as Virgil scrambled desperately for purchase. But the plumber managed to find his grip, and after a moment Virgil pulled himself up with a grunt, flashing the prince a grin. 

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” he said, reaching through the bars of the cage to pull off Patton’s gag. Patton giggled, then coughed, trying to get the taste of rope out of his mouth.

“Oh boy, Virgil, am I glad to see you. For a minute there I thought–” Patton was cut off by Bowceit Jr. as the child leapt forward, trying to throw Virgil back down to the ground. Patton held his breath as the two tussled for a moment, but Virgil was easily stronger than the little snake, and after a moment a cry of surprise could be heard from below as Bowceit Jr. landed on his father’s head.

Virgil grinned, and pulled a key from his overalls pocket. A moment later, the cage was unlocked and Patton was rubbing feeling back into his newly freed limbs. 

Bowceit roared when he saw that his prize was once again escaping his clutches, and he summoned a giant fireball to throw, but Logan grabbed his tail from behind, swinging him around and forcing his attention to remain on the ground for a few moments longer. 

“I need to help him,” Virgil said as he took the rope that had a few moments ago been keeping Patton captive and secured it to the bars of the now open cage. “You’re going to have to climb down yourself, alright?” 

Patton nodded, taking the end of the rope that Virgil offered him. The plumber gave him a quick, encouraging smile, then he turned and jumped down, landing with a perfect kick to the back of Bowceit’s head just before the lizard managed to push Logan off into a pit of lava that was conveniently located right behind the altar in the wedding chapel. 

Patton swallowed, peering down at the scene below him. Virgil was now fighting off the last of the minions who had bothered to stay this long, and Logan was spinning Bowceit around by the tail again. He let go, sending the kidnapper careening into the wall, which shook the whole building. Patton yelped as the cage trembled, catching him off balance. He found himself mirroring Virgil’s position from only a few moments ago, hanging on for dear life to the door of the cage as it swung back and forth. 

“Patton!” he heard Logan shout from below, and despite the danger, Patton couldn’t help the butterflies that leapt in his stomach everytime Logan said his name. “Hang on, Patton!” Logan called again, and Patton squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look down. 

Get me down, he silently begged. Get me down, get me down, get me down…

“Patton, can you pull yourself up?” Logan urged him. 

Patton tried, he honestly did. But when he shifted his grip, he felt himself slipping, and he froze, fear spiking through his heart. 

“I–I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t, I–” 

“Okay, okay then. It’s okay, honey,” Logan soothed, and Patton managed to peak open an eye to glance down at him. The enemies were gone, Bowceit was out cold in the corner, and Logan’s full attention was up on Patton. “If you can’t pull yourself up, then you’ll have to let go, okay?” 

“W-what?” Patton choked out, but Logan held out his arms. 

“I’ll catch you sweetheart, I promise. Do you trust me?” 

Patton nodded. 

“Of course…of course I do, Logan.” 

“Then let go, baby.” 

Patton squeezed his eyes shut, then let go of the cage. For a terrifying moment, he was falling through the air, then he felt Logan’s arms catch him bridal style, solid and safe and secure. Patton’s arms went around Logan on instinct, and he buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as Logan pressed a kiss to his hair. 

“Let’s go home, m’kay?” Logan murmured. Patton nodded, nestling deeper into Logan’s hold. 

The plumbers and the prince left Bowceit’s kingdom, and headed back towards their home. Usually, Patton would listen to Logan tell him stories of his and Virgil’s adventures on their way to rescue him, but the next thing he knew Logan was softly saying his name, and he was waking up to Logan setting him on the front lawn of his castle, back in the Mushroom Kingdom. 

“H-huh? When did we–” 

“You fell asleep before we’d even reached Dry Dry Desert. You seemed so exhausted, so we didn’t want to wake you.” 

Patton nodded blearily, wiping sleep from his eyes. He looked around for a moment, then frowned. 

“Where’s Virgil?” 

“He stayed in Sarasaland with Roman. Ro worries while he goes off on adventures like this, but you know Virgil. He insisted Roman stay behind when we went to get you.” Logan smiled fondly. “He’ll probably be by tomorrow to check on you, he was very upset when we realized you’d gone missing again.” 

Something heavy lodged itself in Patton’s heart at the word again, but he smiled and nodded. 

“It will be good to see him after all that, I missed him.” He smiled up at Logan. “I missed you too, Lo-Lo.” 

Logan blushed, and Patton laughed. He never tired of seeing his boyfriend get embarrassed; he was the absolute cutest thing Patton had ever seen. He leaned up and kissed him on the lips, giggling at the surprised noise the came before Logan pulled himself together enough to kiss back. Patton pulled away and smiled, expecting to feel himself grow lighter than air, like he did whenever he kissed Logan, but something was still sitting unpleasantly in his gut. He almost frowned, but Logan was smiling down at him and he pushed the unpleasant feeling away. 

“How about we go bake a cake?” Patton suggested. Logan agreed, and Patton nodded to himself. Yes, baking. That would get rid of this strange weight he was still feeling right? Baking always calmed him down. 

The two of them went to Patton’s kitchen, and on autopilot Patton started pulling out supplies and ingredients. He’d baked in this kitchen so many times, he didn’t even have to think about what he was doing, so it was surprising when he found himself fumbling with his measuring cups. 

“Whoops!” he giggled as he dropped his wooden spoon. “Wooden you know, I’m being very clumsy today!” 

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, but Patton breezed past, opening his tin of flour and scooping out a few cups. He ended up missing the bowl on his second pass, and flour scattered across his counter. 

“Oopsie! If I keep making mistakes like this, this cake will take flours to bake!” He grinned over at Logan, but Logan wasn’t smiling. Patton shook his head and pushed ahead. He tried to crack an egg into a bowl. 

“Patton…” 

The egg fell to the ground, and Patton stared down at the splattered mess on the floor. 

“Ha ha…I just…can’t catch a bake today, c-can I?” he chuckled softly. Patton made to turn away again, but Logan caught his shoulder, and slowly turned him around, forcing them to face each other. 

“Patton?” Logan’s voice was like his eyes, soft and gentle and full of concern, and something inside Patton broke. 

He choked on a sob, and Logan caught him easily as he pitched forward, clutching his boyfriend’s shirt as he cried. Logan rocked the two of them back and forth, stroking Patton’s hair, rubbing gentle circles on his back. Patton felt more than heard the words of comfort that Logan was murmuring into his hair, and his heart ached with…something, he wasn’t sure what. 

Sadness? Love? Guilt? Some strange combination of the three that Patton couldn’t describe, but couldn’t stand? That sounded right. He sobbed again, and he felt Logan press a kiss to his forehead. That only made the feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Logan shook his head, kissing Patton again. 

“No, honey, you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I do though,” Patton insisted, pulling away from Logan’s embrace just enough to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “I…I’ve been kidnapped loads of times, it’s silly that…that this time would make me this upset…” 

“It’s a perfectly understandable reaction, Patton. You…” Logan’s hold on him stiffened slightly, and Patton knew that meant Logan was angry. “You should not have to be so accustomed to being placed in danger. It is alright to be upset if Bowceit takes you.” Logan wiped a tear from Patton’s cheek with his thumb, and smiled gently. “Especially today, I know how much you dislike heights. It’s perfectly alright to be shaken– what is it, dear?” 

Patton could only shake his head, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. 

“It…it’s not the heights…” he managed to choke out. “It….” he looked away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Patton?” 

“It’s…it’s silly, forget it…”

“Patton.” Logan caught Patton’s hand, and Patton looked up, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Do you trust me?” 

Patton’s breath caught in his throat, and he nodded. 

“Of course…of course I do, Logan.” 

“Then let go, baby.” 

Patton sighed, and looked down. 

“I…he just…he got so close that time, Logan.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and Logan frowned, leaning forward. 

“What?” 

“In…in the chapel. With Bowceit…he got…it was…so close…” 

Logan’s eyes widened with understanding, and he pulled Patton close again, letting the prince hide his face in his overalls. 

“Oh, Patton honey. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“I…I almost thought…t-that you wouldn’t m-make it in time,” Patton admitted, and he felt Logan’s arms tighten around him. 

“Patton, I will always come for you, you know that right?” 

Patton nodded immediately, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. 

“I know you will Lo, I never doubted that for a second. But…just…what if you…if you’d been too late?” 

Logan paused for a moment, and Patton looked up at him, suddenly feeling very small. 

“I…Patton, I want more than anything to promise that I will never ever let that happen,” Logan started. “But…realistically–” 

“You can’t,” Patton whispered, laying his head on Logan’s chest. “I know.” 

“But even if the absolute worst should happen,” Logan continued, his voice like steel. “I will never stop coming after you, I will never stop fighting for you, and I will never stop loving you. That I can promise, and no matter what happens Patton, I will never break that promise.” 

“I know you won’t.” Patton looked up and smiled, a small, but real smile, and Logan smiled back. “I know you won’t, Logan.” 

“I love you so much, my prince,” Logan murmured, and Patton giggled. 

“And I love you, my hero.” 

They leaned towards each other, and this time when their lips met, Patton felt a little lighter. 

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A/n: So if you guys haven’t seen @sugarglider9603‘s Mario AU yet, what are you doing with your lives? Check it out, it’s absolutely adorable. Her art is SO good and cute and nice, and there’s headcanon posts, other stories people have written, and all kinds of stuff! It’s got so much fluff, but just enough angst or hurt/comfort for those of us who like to watch our favorite characters suffer before the hugs begin. I’ve been having trouble being creative lately, but I really enjoyed writing for this AU, I think writing for a universe that’s not mine is very freeing creatively? I dunno if that makes sense, but yeah. Either way, this was super fun to write, hope it was fun to read! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my writing, and I’ll add you to my list! 

-Taylor

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls Of Justice - Chapter 3

*throws confetti* IT’S DOOOONNNNEEEEEE! (I barely beat my deadline, huzzah!!!)

Sorry for the long, long wait. I apparently needed to recharge my internal batteries... But here we go!

{Previous} {Next}

Important Spoiler Tags:  drug mention, prostitution & stripping mentions, gun mention, violent thoughts, therapy sessions

Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 3:  Ink Trails]

John was finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing.

He couldn’t help it. He’d made the mistake of looking at recent Gotham news, hoping for something new in the murder case every newspaper and station seemed to be going on about, but he’d scrolled too far down his news feed.

You Won’t Believe What This Arkham Orderly’s Seen -  Bruce Wayne and ‘Joker’ not ‘just friends’!

Dr. Leland had warned him that people would speculate about his relationships with others. Especially Bruce, given Bruce’s social standings and John’s lack thereof. Bruce himself had said his team of lawyers were well-equipped to stop this sort of gossip from spreading; he’d proved it the last time one of the tabloids had printed such a thing, getting it redacted with an apology from the paper itself.

But that was before they actually had a relationship.

Bruce was careful. He’d never said anything or done anything romantic while John was locked away, with the exception of his first post-Scarecrow visit, when the power and cameras were turned off for those few minutes. And last Saturday, of course, but did it really count when they were so far from Arkham’s nosey orderlies and any prying eyes? The article clearly stressed Arkham orderly.

But John had been good. He’d kept the real them a secret, even from his Arkham doctors. Even from his current doctors. Sure, he’d occasionally give a slightly suggestive comment when he and Bruce had the rare chance to be completely alone, but no one could have possibly overheard them. As much as he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, John understood that any question about potential tampering with his recovery process could land him right back into another involuntary stay at Arkham.

And he’d die sooner than face that.

Unable to stop himself, he ignored the pair of shorts still waiting for a proper hem and skimmed through the thing, keeping in mind that Bruce would no doubt bring the hammer down on the Gotham Moonrise regardless of the details.

Anonymous Arkham orderly claims to have inside knowledge regarding the relationship between John Doe, alias ‘Joker’, and Bruce Wayne, blah blah blah... “Reports to have seen Bruce pay off themselves and other orderlies in exchange for uninterrupted time in John’s cell on multiple occasions”?

“Hah, I wish,” John muttered to himself, closing the article as his anxiety starting to ebb away. A lot of money must have exchanged hands to be bold enough to make that claim on paper. Bruce’s team of  three-piece suits were probably already on their way to the Gotham Moonrise’s editorial department with a nice large lawsuit.

He skimmed through further. There was an old close-circuit-camera picture in the middle, taken in the nicer of Arkham’s two visitor rooms - John and Bruce were sitting together at the table, watching something on Bruce’s phone. Bruce had been showing him one of the old Gray Ghost serials up on UBox upon learning that John had only ever seen bits and pieces of the nearly thirty-year-old cartoon reboot from bloggr posts. John didn’t see how that qualified as them ‘getting cozy’, as the caption put it, considering they had to stay a minimum of a foot apart at all times inside there.

He breathed out slowly, like he was supposed to, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to fidget. He pulled up his favorite picture of Bruce. He was walking down the steps of the courthouse after his first hearing regarding last year’s mess, looking determined and impossibly handsome in what John knew to be his second-favorite suit, the black with dark gray pinstripes. There was nothing about the angle or lighting that was wrong:  it was perfect, like him. “It’s nothing, John,” he told himself in his best imitation of Bruce’s smooth, deep tone, “They won’t throw you back in on idle gossip.”

“You’re right,” he answered in a whisper. He kissed the tip of his index finger and tapped it over Bruce’s face. “I’m worrying over nothing,” he said firmly. The more he said it, the more he believed it.

The feed above that article had some of the usual fair regarding celebrity socialites cheating on their significant others and some minor political scandal, but then - boom, third article down:  Missing man’s body found near East Docks.

John wasn’t sure how to feel. He was excited there was something new, but he couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t be happy over a stranger’s death. The thought might as well have Dr. Leland’s voice attached, telling him to think of how it would feel to lose someone he cared about, and apply that. The stranger might have been a criminal, but he could’ve been someone else’s Bruce Wayne.

But John didn’t cause this one. It was a force beyond his control. He didn’t have to feel bad about it. Hell, it might have been justified. Maybe Muddy Nye had done far worse things than distribute toxic garbage to the masses through organized crime.

The scar on his palm peeked out over the edge of his phone.

...or maybe Muddy was someone’s John Doe.

John opened the article, finding a video on top. That would be much faster than reading.

He recognized the newscaster - Faith Ackart, who had covered his recent court proceedings with barely a smidge more kindness than Jonathan Crane’s. A real go-getter in the journalistic field with apparently very little fashion sense; her top was so bright it made the blush on her cheeks look severe.

“You think your morning’s bad, be thankful you aren’t Lou Monger - a task that should’ve taken two minutes turned into nearly two hours after Lou went to take out the trash and found a body in his business’ dumpster.”

The camera cut, showing the police tape draped across an alley and a dumpster underneath a fire escape in the background, where the aforementioned man stood in front of it with the microphone almost shoved in his face.

That was the exact alleyway he was yesterday morning. The same dumpster with the dent on top, the same fire escape, the same graffitti in the background… He could practically smell the rotting fish carcasses.

“I just open the lid, ready to throw on more crap, and this guy’s just layin’ there, dead as a doornail,” Lou explained, looking angrily flummoxed, “I got a business to run and now I gotta leave my customer’s hangin’ for two hours during prime-time! I open the lid, guy’s got a new hole in his head - what else do you gotta know?”

The camera cut back to Faith, standing across the street from the police line. The body had already been removed.  

“What Lou didn’t know was that the body was that of Muddy Nye, who police believe to be connected to the van explosion by the East Docks on Tuesday morning - where an anonymous witness says they spotted Batman nearby only minutes before. G.C.P.D. decline to comment on whether or not the group killed in the explosion are connected to those found aboard the Chandis, and on the supposed Batman sighting.”

John drummed his fingers against the table surface. A wannabe-mobster shot in the head, a la execution style…

And suddenly, like a trigger pulled in his head, he realized that both he and Tiffany had used the fire escape. She might have used the dumpster. There had been no rain the night before to wash any of their trace evidence away, and the cops were likely going to comb over the alley for anything useful.

That was bad. Real bad. Especially if Tiffany had caused that dent in the top of the lid. Especially-especially since he’d been walking around when he technically shouldn’t have been.

Tiff please tell me you didn’t use the dumpster as leverage yesterday!! He texted, unable to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously.

For what?

The fire escape??? Muddy’s dead

He’s LITERALLY sleeping with the fishes in that dumpster

I touched the fire escape and our prints are gonna be all over the ladder!!!!!

Hang on

How could John hang onto anything? They would have known he left work, and they’d question his boss, who would no doubt lie and say he snuck out to cover his own ass, they’d question him, and they’d suspect John heavily for no other reason than his past history and they’d throw him back in.

He could feel his heart racing. He didn’t want to go back to Arkham. How many exclamation points after that did he have to use to drive that point home?

Okay so 1 I didn’t use the dumpster, I jumped like a normal person, and 2 chill out. Traffic cam got conveniently jammed around 2am so they definitely planned to dump it. They’ll just check the dumpster

John breathed deep, trying to relax. She had a point. Why check the fire escape if the killer dumped the body like a pro?

3 sleeping with the fishes?? That is a terrible pun wtf

But it’s not wrong!! He texted, This has classic mob hit all over it.

“Actually…” It did, didn’t it? He could practically see the plan in his head:  kidnap to get information, shoot in the head to stop any squealing, drop off at a planned dumping ground a good distance away…with fish, no less. They didn’t go to the harbor where the message would be crystal-clear, despite the large stretch of it not occupied by cops... Yet with a million dumpsters in the city to choose from, and they went to a dumpster with fish?

It was as if…

“It is a joke,” he muttered to himself, believing it more firmly as the words left his growing grin. It was a terrible, tongue-in-cheek sort of gag.

The whole thing was something he couldn’t help but laugh at, escalating from titters to a low cackle.

He tried to stifle it with his hand; the manager was rather keen on a quiet workplace, and he knew ‘random laughing’ had a more negative connotation when he was the one doing it.

The back-room door swung open on queue, and Mr. Prinya stuck his head in. “John, keep it down,” he whispered in a rush, “I’ve got a customer.”

“S-sorry,” John managed, swirling in his chair as he slyly slid his phone underneath the pile of orders, “I just remembered a funny meme.”

The older man frowned like a stern parent. “You’re not on your phone at work, are you?”

“Me? Never. You know, idle hands and all that,” he lied, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers to show he was empty-handed. “If they’re here for the shorts, tell them to wait - thread got stuck again.”

Mr. Prinya eyed him, his suspicion waning into something like concern. “You need it unstuck?”

“Nah, I’ll get it.”

“Okay...just keep it down.”

“Yes, sir,” John affirmed with a little salute.

The second the manager was gone, John put his phone on silent and slid it back into his pocket. He didn’t really like straight-up lying to people he didn’t dislike, but he tried to think of it like lying to the Arkham staff - if  it meant he and his secrets were safe, then it was acceptable.

The door didn’t quite close - it had a habit of not sticking without being given a little slam. He could hear the annoyingly digital door chime and the last customer’s cheery goodbye through the crack in the door. And then another not a moment later, as tinny and loud as ever.

“Ah, good morn-” There was a brief pause. “Good morning, Mr. Nito,” Mr. Prinya said, his accent becoming a little thicker on the ‘i’s and ‘o’s.

“My vest ready?” A somewhat gruff voice replied.  

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but John was more of a hyena person anyway. He had no problem taking a peek to satisfy the itch to know.

Mr. Prinya’s small shoulders were clearly tense. The customer looked the rough type, with shaved eyebrows, barbell brow-piercings, and a nose ring. He seemed to have a tan, but the facial features and complete lack of any other underlying accent indicated that he was probably only a little less white than John.

“Yes…” Mr. Prinya sorted through the rack. He was at least a head shorter than ‘Mr. Nito’; what would that make him, five-eleven? Or six? “Here it is.”

“I hope you know I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I know it’s safe.”

There was little doubt it wasn’t drugs; probably coke or heroin, given how much was carefully distributed in the fabric. Or it could’ve been something new hitting the streets.

John thought back to Vicki Vale and her little drug-ring; he’d gotten used to passing information along to Bruce, hadn’t he? His first instinct was to tell him. The handsome billionaire might not be directly involved this time, but it was certainly something he’d be interested in...and probably thank him for.

John could barely see the lumps in the cloth as Mr. Prinya brought to the counter. It looked like an old police-grade bullet proof vest - it wasn’t as big as the SWAT ones he’d seen on TV, or the one he’d worn last year.

He had a good angle. Bruce’s tech had that fancy facial-recognition software on it. It’d be easy to find him through that - or just by combing over his tattoos. One could be one for a recognizable gang.

Flash off, zoom in, and...snap!

The vest was laid carefully on the table. “Of course it’s safe,” Mr. Prinya assured.

Mr. Nito - if that was his real name - snorted.  “For all I know you could’ve done shoddy seams on purpose.”

“Of course-” Mr. Prinya stopped himself short.

The tattooed man glared at him. “Of course what? You got somethin’ to say?”

The rudeness of him was one thing, but the way the guy touched his belt, like he was going for a gun, really rubbed John the wrong way. He could see the handle of a blocky pistol under the guy’s unseasonable zippered jacket. He didn’t have to pull it out - open-faced threats of death like that just made John think of the bridge incident, and that memory was one that still made his blood boil.

“No,” Mr. Prinya responded with a slight hitch. “Of course you may look.”

Tamper you instincts, they would say. He tucked his phone away and clutched his hands. Clench, release, clench...

Calm down. (Hard to do that when he knew all too well what it felt like to be on either sides of a gun barrel. There was too much power behind them.)

Think of your future, Dr. Leland had advised months and months ago.

...Bruce...wouldn’t want him to go out there. If the guy talked, people might know where he worked. His private life was meant to be private until he was officially released.

But Bruce would surely have taken a bullet for him. And he wouldn’t have let that...that scumbag just walk around acting like he could just do whatever the hell he wanted.

He mentally crossed ‘hiding’ off his list of options. He certainly wouldn’t go in there and just punch the guy - there’d be too much collateral damage.

John would play it cool. Confident. Things were different - he was different. He could do that. Be that.

(He’d save the gory imagery of the guy clutching the bleeding stumps of his fingers for a mental replay later.)

So he clutched the door-handle and made a show of entering, swinging the door wide - not too wide - with a random piece of clothing tucked under his arm. “Hey, boss-man-” He cut himself off as appropriate, pretending to just see the ‘customer’ behind the counter. The man’s eyes flashed to him, hard at first, and then widening with recognition. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had company!” He flashed a grin Mr. Nito’s way.

He looked less horrified than John would have wanted. Not the ‘oh my God, it’s that crazy guy from the news last year’ that John expected. More like John was someone he knew, and he just didn’t expect to see him there. Or really, more of a ‘you look weird, and I’m suddenly not sure of what dimension I’m in’ sort of stare.

Mr. Prinya, on the other hand, looked almost disbelievingly surprised to see him. “D-did you need something, John?” He asked, his accent just as thick as before.

“That darn machine is still stuck,” he lied, “My butterfingers can’t untangle the threads as easily as you.” He wiggled his free set of fingers to show how noodley they were. It wasn’t completely untrue, which sold the bit better - he usually got so frustrated when the knots wouldn’t untie that he’d end up cutting them out nine times out of ten.

Mr. Nito’ had tugged his jacket back over his pistol. He was still staring at John. Thinking about how much of a risk it was to deal with the Arkham loon. He’d fought Batman and lived. He could be armed. Even if he wasn’t, he was fast, and who knew if he cared about collateral damage?

John stared right back, feigning curiosity. “Is there something on my face?” He asked as innocently as possible while imagining the guy’s hands being slammed on the counter and stuck there with the whole tomato of pins.

He wouldn’t be able to reach for his gun if his hands were pinned. The thought was so funny it almost made him laugh; he could feel his grin widen.

Mr. Nito looked away and gathered the vest under his arm as quickly as possible, looking like he was trying to hold a toddler on his hip. “If this falls apart on me, it’ll be your fault,” he emphasized at Mr. Prinya, glaring with less machismo than before, “Hope you’ll remember that,” he huffed.

He turned and left, leaving John to titter under his breath at how the tough-guy act had dissolved into an immature little bark. The obnoxious doorbell went off and the man disappeared into the city with a disgruntled scowl.

Mr. Prinya watched him go, only relaxing when the man was out of sight. He muttered something incomprehensible in a relieved breath.

“Yeesh, what a weirdo... Whelp, I’ll be in back if you need me!” John spun on his heel, two steps into his return to his lonely work when Mr. Prinya spoke.

“John,” Mr. Prinya said in a similar sort of tone to the one Bruce used when he wanted John to stop and think for a moment, “You shouldn’t…” He paused, thinking further, seeming to soften with every passing moment. John waited for him to finish. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” John said honestly. It wasn’t as if he’d actually done anything outside of show his infamous face. He decided to gamble and ask the big question rather than let the chance slip away. “Who was that guy, anyway?”

Mr. Prinya eyed him. He had that sort of gentle-letdown look Dr. Leland used to get when she would tell him ‘no’.  “Don’t get mixed up in this. You have your own life to worry about.”

It was the second time that was said to him in two days...

Maybe fate was trying to drill that into his head.

...or maybe it was just coincidence.

“I swear you guys say that as if you’re not part of my life,” he said with a short chortle, making sure to close the door behind him.

The back room felt much cooler than before, and for a moment he felt like he was back in Bruce’s cave, sitting at that ridiculously oversized supercomputer to dig up dirt wherever he thought a useful little worm of information might be. Only this room was smaller and crowded with sewing supplies instead of fancy tech and stalactites, and there were no bats or handsome best friend around for company.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of intrigue that came with the idea. He pulled up the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’.

He zoomed in on the tattoos. A dragon tail peeked out of the jacket’s sleeve - it was such a standard thing to get that he figured there wasn’t much to go on with that one.

A large embossed star sat between his neck and shoulder. He’d seen celebrity chefs with the same sort of tat’. Nothing special.

Knuckle tattoos - because of course he’d have those - spelled out ‘PAIN’ on his left hand. He didn’t doubt there was a matching one of some kind on his right. Talk about basic.

There was something peeking out above the v-neck:  the top of a face that looked like it was split in half, with the expressions like the sock and buskin masks in theatre, cast in black and red. Or at least that’s what John assumed they were, given the eyebrow and eye shapes...

That one was definitely more unique. Worth looking into.

He heard the door chime again, but Mr. Prinya didn’t sound so nervous when he greeted them this time. There was no need to go back out or throw the sewing machine at someone. (At least...not yet.)

John had to get back to work. He’d have to sort through a lot of social media garbage to find something like it, but he had a lot of free time on his hands...

                                                    *~*~*~*~*

John had been through far too many FriendBook pages. And Chirp pages. And bloggr posts. And he’d posted and searched through the more disturbing internet forums. All in moments snatched where he could at work and travel and in the very few spots in St. Dympha he could get away with using a contraband phone in to look up gang symbols in the tri-state area and beyond.

And nothing. Not a single thing depicting either the symbol the bodies made on the Chandis or the tattoo on ‘Mr. Nito’.

He was tempted to just ask Bruce (or even Tiffany) and shove the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’ in their fancy Batcomputer to analyze, but...they were both definitely-probably busy. After all, they were working on the mysterious-gang-war case, and Bruce was probably dealing with the stupid tabloid article from that morning on top of that, and those were more important than his little investigation.

(Besides, he really liked that expression Bruce got when John had figured something out; surprise and pride and intrigue all rolled into one. He’d gladly comb over a hundred more pages of junk to see that face when he inevitably surprised him with.)

And now he was stuck in group. Unable to do anything but sit and mull over what he was missing, and think about Bruce’s mess of a mystery. He’d looked as far back as the nineteen-twenties for criminally-linked logos that looked even remotely like what either of them should be, but found none. It had to be new, and small enough to fly under the radar…

John had a mental catalog of all the gangs that were and ever had been in the city. Black Mask was much more recent, seizing the opportunistic hole that Falcone had left in his wake and picking up business fronts and those ridiculous protection rackets, and adding in the standard drug trade. He was sure he was an out-of-towner who noticed the lack of a big organized crime unit… Or at least someone who operated outside of the city to get power before moving in on the big fish.

He’d crossed off a lot of the old mafias already, mostly due to them being dead and gone. Falcone’s leftovers weren’t smart enough or loyal enough to organize themselves into some sort of revenge plot; they were the type to follow the new guy. Maroni’s crew tended to be more hot-headed and not take orders from new people, but there were only so many left, and they had their own little territories carved out on the map that Black Mask hadn’t bothered trying to take.

The small-time gangs (seventeen of them at the last count) scattered around the place didn’t really have enough to pull of a stunt like that of the Chandis. They were more the types to make deals with the big time crooks and go down in a blaze of glory if something went wrong.

So unless it was someone new… But why? That was the real question. It felt too personal to be random. Maybe whoever was running Black Mask had crossed paths with someone who had the patience to wait for revenge. Someone deadly. Trained, if the knife-throwing was anything to go by. Maybe it wasn’t a gang, but one person. A serial killer bent on revenge. Maybe B.M. killed someone they cared about, or took something from them.

Maybe B.M. had lit a circus on fire or something. He added it to his little list of things to look up later.

He hated admitting it, but Tiffany had been right in her little insinuation - there was little he could do about this particular thing while he was on the inside...

“John? How about you?”

Of course Dr. Ludgate would call him out while was sitting there thinking. She had a knack for picking on the quiet ones. She looked it, too, with her severely-sharp haircut and the general attitude that she commanded the room. He wondered if she used to be a teacher or something. (She certainly had the style of those fussy teachers he’d seen on T.V. over the years. Awful floral patterns were her apparently her favorite thing in the world.)

Of course they’d call him out when he was sitting there thinking. He hadn’t been paying attention for quite a while.

Complete honestly wasn’t even an option here. He’d hate to just say he was just daydreaming or not listening…

“Ah, well, I was just thinking, doc’...”

The doctor was giving him the ‘ah, yes, go on’ look he was used to. It seemed a lot of the group was paying attention to him… Well, who was he to disappoint an audience?

“I still have those moments where things feel like some kind of alternate reality. Like I’m in one of those weird ‘what-if’ comics and I’ve got only so many pages left until I find myself still in…” That cozy little slice of hell, he wanted to say. But that was ‘inappropriate’ and ‘disturbing’. Not exactly the picture he wanted to paint for himself in front of a healthcare professional. “Well, Arkham.”

Mickey, sitting across from him in their little circle, was watching him like he was actually paying attention. He had a tendency to stare at his lap a lot in group. Or into space.

“But...the past couple of weeks have helped prove that I’m not there anymore.” ...kinda. He thought carefully. “Like it’s not just the scenery that’s different, you know?”

Some thoughtful looks at that. Nice.

He wasn’t going to add on anything too sugary, like his hope for others feeling the same. No, no, that wasn’t his style. He leaned back in his chair, unable to hold back the little grin. “Though this place could take some pointers from it. Exposed brick is much more chic than all this eggshell.”

A couple of titters and amused little smirks in the group. Much better.

Dr. Ludgate just nodded her head. “It’s good to know you’re feeling more comfortable, John. I think everyone here has days where they don’t feel like they’re really at a better point in their lives.”

John leaned back a little further in his chair. She didn’t seem to completely understand, but that was okay. She got the end message, at least, and that was what mattered. He didn’t really care if anyone else got it or not.

When no one else spoke up after a few beats - clearly no one wanted to delve further into that conversation link - Dr. Ludgate pretended to look at her watch. “I think that’s about all we have time for today.” She made sure to look at the group as a whole. “You’ve all made wonderful progress.”

A phrase he’d heard a thousand times, and it still hadn’t lost it’s funny side. He at least managed to swallow the urge to giggle at it.

John strolled out of the room, going straight back to thinking. There wasn’t much he could do with Bruce’s stuff. Back to thinking about the mysterious Mr. Nito as he made his way back to his room. The perfect thinking place.

He hadn’t seen anything resembling the weird theatre masks in his tattoo search, either. It was apparently rather unique. Maybe he had to do some more forum digging for that one…?

“Hey, John,” Devi Hanson waved to him from a little further down the hall clad in pink cheetah-print pants, and he saw a flash of intensely-bright neon green in her hand.

Nail polish. It was ridiculously bright, and he was seized with the urge to have it. “Where did you get that color?” He asked enthusiastically, already making a bee-line for her.

“Outside, where else?” She joked. “What, you wanna use it?”

He could steal it from her, but she was one of the few people who actively enjoyed his company. “How many ways can I say yes? Absolutely, sure, oui, si, ja...”

She gave a light laugh. “Alright, but you have to do my right hand for me.”

“Deal!”

He followed her into the recreation room. It was ten times cozier than Arkham’s; only one orderly to oversee things, much comfier sofas, a cable package with actually decent things on half the time, several board games that weren’t just checkers or some variant of it, and people that weren’t prone to sudden bouts of violence. (Well, mostly. He’d seen a very heated game of Dungeons, Dragons, and Dice.)

They sat at one of the corner tables, away from the crowd watching that boring ‘“nerdy” comedy John didn’t understand the appeal of.

“So, how’s the sewing gig goin’?” Devi asked casually as she started to paint her left hand with practiced strokes.

“About as well as it can go,” he answered. He wasn’t going to mention anything about what transpired earlier. “How’s the laundry shift?”

“Hot and borin’,” she answered back. “They say a job’s a job, but it actually makes stripping seem good again. At least there was fun music and a lot more money in it.”

“Huh, I didn’t know you did that.”

“Eh, it was a lifetime ago. It’s how I got into my nasty little habit.” Devi was rather quick at painting, apparently, already going on her third nail. “I’d rather go back to bein’ a stylist again, actually. I could style and dye hair like nobody's business.” She shot a look at his hair. “Wouldn’t need to do yours, though. You’re color sure stays...”

“It’s au natural.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really? Man, you’re lucky! I’d kill for a color like that.”

“Maybe I did,” he said slyly, half joking to himself. For all he knew it was true. “We’ll never know!”

She gave him a funny look. Sort of curious and amused. “You don’t remember anything before the last decade, right?”

“Correct-a-mundo.”

“So why do you look like you’re always thinkin’ really hard about somethin’ lately?” Devi started blowing on her nails to dry them.

It was always tempting to tell people to mind their own business, but Devi had half her arms covered in very well-done tattoos. He could use some insight... “‘Cause I’m thinking hard about things.” John started to paint his own left hand, deciding on odd fingers instead of all of them. “In today’s case, though… It’s tats.”

“So nothin’ to do with the studmuffin that keeps visitin’ you?” Devi was shaking her hand and blowing on it alternatively.

Either she was blowing smoke, or...she saw the tabloid article. “That? It’s...just a rumor,” he shrugged off, finding it difficult to say. He’d mostly just avoided the topic altogether, or else rolled his eyes when people brought it up. He hadn’t had one of those stupid tabloid opinion pieces since last year, when it was very easy to say it wasn’t true because it wasn’t.

“Didn’t say anythin’ about rumors.” She admired her nails, looking for imperfections.

John narrowed his eyes. Did she think he was stupid? “You didn’t have to. You probably saw that stupid article on the news rack while you were out, and that’s why you lured me here. To ask about it.”

“Not even close!” Devi answered with a little frown, “I actually like your company; you’re funny and you’re the only one in this joint who appreciates my taste in color,” she said, gesturing to her whole yellow-and-pink outfit, “And I asked because half the time I see you, the guy’s almost attached to your hip. What’s this about an article?”

Oh. Whoops. “Sorry,” John muttered, feeling bad at jumping to conclusions, “it’s this whole stupid tabloid thing… It’s bad enough they gossip about Bruce, but to just...speculate about our relationship like that! It’s enough to...” He breathed in through his nostrils. “It really pisses me off.” It was too close to home, too paranoia-inducing...too much that put Bruce on edge, and thus John on edge.

Devi gave a sort of half-nod, half-shrug. “That’s what they do. Don’t give ‘em the satisfaction.” He knew she was right, but it didn’t help that she didn’t know everything about the situation. She couldn’t possibly know how messy it made him feel. “Anyway, why were you thinkin’ ‘bout tattoos? Jealous of mine?” She leaned her right arm on the table to show off the prowling leopard and scatter of flowers trailing down from her shoulder. She had someone’s name tattooed under a cross on her opposing forearm, and a necklace of constellations on her collarbone.

Flattery was the best way to go the majority of the time. “Yours are pretty,” he offered, watching her sit up a little proudly, “but I’m just puzzling over one I’ve seen,” he said cryptically, finished on his thumbnail. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“You got a picture?” She asked, putting her left hand in front of him so he’d get the hint.

John eyed the guard in the corner. He waited until he’d turned just enough away to slide his phone out of his pocket and pull up the gallery, zooming in on Mr. Nito’s tattoo. “If anyone asks, it’s yours,” he muttered, nodding to the phone as he started painting her other hand.

“Not allowed one yet, huh?” Devi pulled it across the able and looked. “Hm… That’s new to me.” She zoomed out, much to John’s discomfort. “Him, on the other hand, I’ve seen.”

“You have?” John could not keep the excitement out of his voice. “When? Where?”

“Here,” she shrugged. “Hang on a sec - hey, Mick’,” she called out, leaning to get a view of the only ‘Mick’ it could be in the facility, “Can you come here for a sec’?”

John did not want to involve him. They weren’t on...well, any real terms. It was hard to tell if Mickey liked him...or anything at all, in fact. Mickey was too abrasive to know if he would be loyal to anything or anyone.

Mickey, unfortunately, did in fact come when called, though. Maybe he had a soft spot for Devi, or women in general. “Yeah?”

“You remember this guy? I remember seein’ him, but I don’t remember his name.”

Mickey breathed out, crossing his arms over his plain t-shirt and looking...not very different from his usual gruff expression. His thick dark brows were furrowed together. “I just knew him as Ian.”

“Yeah, that was it… He didn’t stay too long, did he?”

Mickey snorted, smirking a little. “A week.”

John resumed painting, not realizing he’d stopped. “Who was he?”

“A patient,” Mickey replied. He was staring holes down at John. “We shared the same doctor. Why?”

John was getting annoyed, and he was getting tired of being polite. “That’s my business.”

Mickey decided to just sit next to Devi, still staring at him. “You trying to stop a racket?”

John ignored that and started on Devi’s pinkie finger.

“The hotel’s got one, too,” he continued quietly. That caught John’s interest.

Devi gave a slight chortle. “Every bus’ in the docks has one. Stupid to try and get us to be so law-abiding when they put us down there.”

Yes, now John was doubly-interested.

“What kind is it?” John asked Mickey, looking up from his handiwork.

“Drugs and prostitution,” he answered as Devi made a disgusted face, “Yours?”

John decided to be honest as he started on his own right hand. He rather liked the look of his left. “Pretty sure my boss is a drug mule. I don’t think it’s by choice.”

Devi winced harder. “Ugh. I got lucky, mine’s just a secret loan racket in the basement.”

Mickey was watching him. “Are you trying to stop them?”

It was...almost hopeful. Like he actually wanted that. A tough guy like Mickey, who could have easily been in a gang himself, wanted the crime in his life stopped. How...oddly refreshing.

“I don’t like being potentially thrown under the bus for other people’s decisions,” John chose to say, discarding the joke that he still had Batman’s number on speed-dial. “It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Mickey nodded sagely. “You don’t want to go back,” he stated. “I get it.”

“Until you’ve been in Arkham, Mickey, you really don’t.” He hoped it didn’t sound as rude as he thought. “You guys know the name of your employer’s racket group?”

“Some guy named Boata,” Devi answered, blowing on her newly painted fingers.

Mickey looked up at the ceiling very briefly. “Last I heard, it was something like ‘Volto’.”

Interesting. A chain of small gangs working in such a small area? That only meant one thing:  they were sections of a bigger gang. Especially with such European-sounding names...

The leftovers, perhaps. Or maybe they wanted just to sound like the leftovers. Cast the suspicion of the Bat off.

One thing was for sure. He had to find Ian’s full name. A last known address wouldn’t hurt, either.

And that meant he’d have to break into an office.

Notes:   I’m very happy with the first section, but less satisfied with how the second half turned out, and it bent me out of shape for a week to think of how it would end... But I reminded myself that I’m setting up for what’s coming in what should be Chapter 5, and...oh boy, I know that is gonna knock some socks off. (Including mine, haha!) So it’s worth the struggle, but I hope I kept everyone’s attention. :)

So, fun facts! I had to look up what the theatre masks were called, and “sock and buskin” are literally names for the masks, taken from the “sock of comedy and boot of tragedy” characters could wear on stage. (I’ve...never heard of such a thing before now, but I like it.) And my reference to “a whole tomato of pins” is an allusion to the common tomato-shaped pin-cushion. I’ve grown up with one in the house and rarely see any in sewing stores that aren’t shaped like that, so I thought it was a sort of funny thing to add.

It’s really too bad I can’t just make a whole game for this, because I think John would have some interesting mental-mapping in animation. You’d get to see him connect the strings together like Batman does on his tech, and imagine some things like Bats’ 3D-projecting. Plus he talks to himself, both aloud (like Bruce) and in his head, so the player would actually hear that sometimes, and some of his little vocal memories from other people. (If my alternate-universe self is doing this...man, I hope she’s having fun with it.)

And of course, thank you for all the love so far!! Every time I get a note I go like this:  (♡´౪`♡) *✧ ✰ ｡* I’ll see you in two weeks, when we rejoin Bruce! 

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE Review: Wario vs. Dedede.

Two gluttons of greed battle it out in the ring! Time to see if Smash Tier Lists are lore consistent or not (They aren’t, if Kirby is at the bottom when he’s canonically the most powerful video game character).

Wario′s Preview.

We all know Mario. He’s a hero, a plumber, and many more things. He’s one of the seven star children of the Mushroom Kingdom. But one day, Mario returned home to find his castle under control of someone else. That person is Wario. WAH!

Wario is the opposite of Mario in pretty much every way. While Mario is kind and heroic, Wario is selfish and greedy. In fact, little Japanese lesson, Wario is derived from the Japanese word “Warui”, or “Bad.”

Subtlety is not Nintendo’s forte.

But, as it turns out, Wario wasn’t always bad. As young children, he and Mario played “Cops ‘n Robbers” 1256 times. And despite constantly asking otherwise, Wario only got to be the cop once.

… Y’know, between the “Mario is a war criminal” meme and this, the whole “Mario is a psycho” thing from GameTheory is starting to hold water, just not for the reasons that MatPat came up with. 

Anyways, in order to stack up to Mario, Wario needs to have plenty of abilities to counter with. He can even attack by farting. But it’s no ordinary fart, Wario uses The Waft. Which is basically the grossest thing that Nintendo has ever thought of.

But for a Flatulence Nuke, it’s not bad. At least in Smash, anyways. Otherwise, it’s just a stink nuke.

As it turns out, Boomstick has been working on a way to harness the power of farts in a device that he built in Wiz’s lab (Don’t ask how he got in, he’s not telling).

(Not pictured: The part where Wiz passes out because of the Wind Breaker).

Anyways, onto Wario’s arsenal.

Wario has plenty of things on him that can give him an edge up over his foes. Including bombs, transformative hats, and a slew of powers that he gets from his cartoon physics physique.

He can become bouncy by being squished, inflate himself to become big, use the Eagle Statue to achieve flight (Or he could just down some garlic to become Wario-Man, complete with pink tights and a cape), or even become metal. And remember that explosion Mario survived? Well, those bombs were Wario’s, and he was right in the middle of it. And if you recall, that blast came out to be about…

This isn’t even counting the time he defeated the Shake King, who exploded to blow up an island. Judging by the size of the Shake Dimension (By use of a map), and the size of the clouds that parted because of the explosion, the overall blast can come out to just short of 96 sextillion tons of TNT.

Despite his greed, disgusting body, and overall demeanor, Wario is a powerhouse. He’s defeated plenty of powerful foes and lived to tell the tale. Mario may beat him time and time again (primarily due to Wario’s intelligence (or lack thereof)), but that persistance is pretty admirable.

Dedede′s Preview.

The kingdom of Dreamland is filled with all sorts of creatures, big and small. Most of which are adorable as a baby seal.

But, this land is ruled by a self-appointed dictator named King Dedede. A tyrannical dictator who deliberately made a food shortage once.

However, Dedede would be stopped by a cute pink puffball of absolute destruction: Kirby. Everyone’s favorite lovable pink ball.

Although, the rivalry between Kirby and Dedede aren’t always with malicious intent.

The time Dedede stole the Star Rod, he was trying to stop the vile Nightmare from destroying everything.

Surprise plot twist: Dedede’s mean side comes from a jealousy of Kirby rather than any real evil place.

So, after seeing Kirby’s popularity surpass his own, Dedede made up his mind: He would surpass Kirby.

Dedede learned how to inhale objects and spit them out at incredible speeds. On top of his training to increase his speed, strength, and durability, Dedede learned how to fly.

By sucking a lot of air, Dedede can fly like Kirby. This is backed up by absolutely zero science and makes no logical sense. But who cares. Let’s let the penguin fly! They guy earned it through his intense training.

Dedede can even spit out air bullets that can destroy solid stone.

But even Dedede can’t get by just stolen techniques. Sure, the big guy has an army at his call, but he’s also got his signature hammer to take people down personally with.

This hammer can emit ice to ice up opponents, and even features a jet booster that is oh-so satisfying to land in Smash. Especially since it isn’t that good of a move.

But Dedede isn’t limited by just that single mallet. He’s got plenty on him that can give him extra abilities.

From the Star Hammer, to the Electric Hammer, the latter of which doubles as a multi-barrel rocket launcher, the King has it all. Screw Gun-Swords and Sniper-Scythes indeed. This is the weapon with firepower!

Dedede also has a lot of Gordos to command and throw at his foes. And when he wants to get rough (or rougher, in this case), Dedede busts out the aforementioned electric hammer and a mask to become… The Mysterious Masked Dedede!

The Penguin King has also spit Kirby to break Pop Star’s atmosphere. Which puts his spitting speed at over mach 30. Good thing that he’s become more of a good guy over the years, because it’s not healthy to be jealous of Kirby.

But since Dedede regularly goes up against and keeps up with Kirby, that means that his power has to rival the Pink Marshmallow. Kirby once broke the planet in a single chop. So, let’s get some calcs for that.

So, Dedede is definitely hitting above his pay grade. Even if Kirby isn’t hitting him with this amount of force with every punch, Dedede fights on equal footing with him. Meaning that it’s reasonable that he scales to the Pink Puffball in some way.

Also, Dedede has also gone toe-to-toe with the likes of Meta Knight.

For reference, Meta Knight once made a casual flight from one end of the galaxy to the other in seconds. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean that Dedede can do that, but between that and the time he dodged a meteor

(this one)

That was moving 160,000 mph proves that Dedede is a lot faster than you might think.

The guy also helped fight Magalor, who made a Black Hole in another dimension that Dedede survived. Which proves that he don’t need a monster to “Clobbah dat dere Kirby!”

While Dedede’s grudge is still held, he’s always come through for the Kingdom of Dreamland more times than he’s been against it. Proving that he just might have earned his title in some way.

Because there is only one bonafide ruler of that kingdom. King Dedede!

The Battle Itself.

Kiid Zack  are animating, Appetite For Greed by Brandon Yates, Jerky as the  sprite artist, and Chris Kokkinos lead on audio.

Okay, before we start, these guys need to stop giving us instances where the “FIGHT” clip would be appropriate. First the Widow-Widow bullet clash, now this. Regardless, the two are clashing in an arena.

(Look at Waddle Dee! He’s so adorable!)

The Mysterious Masked Dedede takes the first attack, after a quick scuffle, he launches his Magnhild-style weapon, but it looks like Wario-Man is too fast for them, so the fight gets Physical.

But The Mysterious Masked Dedede manages to get some distance so that he can fire some… fire…

So, after Wario-Man takes some damage, he also runs into The Mysterious Masked Dedede. So, Wario-Man’s outfit gets burned and The Mysterious Masked Dedede’s mask gets shattered. Revealing…

It was Wario and Dedede the whole time! That’s good. I was starting to think that these were the wrong combatants.

But it looks like Dedede kinda… Recognizes Wario.

As it turns out, this battle is a bit more personal.

See, Wario stole Dedede’s hot dog and then farted in his face. Which doesn’t sit well with the Triple D. But, as it turns out, Dedede isn’t so innocent either…

See, Dedede stole the front wheel of Wario’s bike to fit with one of his subjects. So needless to say, Wario is also pretty miffed.

But this shocking reveal has blown more than just many audience member’s minds. It has also blown the minds of Waddle Dee and a Goomba…

… Literally.

So the battle rages on. Leaving Dedede to use his multiplication powers to pin Wario down (After the big W used his dragon hat to use fire attacks) to pin him down and smash him over the head. This is after Wario ate Dedede’s electric hammer, by the way.

Which results in…

… This…

Wario pulls out some bombs, and launches them.

So what’s Dedede’s solution?- Inhale them of course.

Which also results in Wario being caught in the vacuum.

Y’know, I really don’t like how Nintendo made Wario’s defining character trait “Disgustingness.”

So, with the arena destroyed and the building they’re fighting in gone, the fight’s now in an open field.

So Dedede and Wario both use their respective abilities to enlarge themselves for a big fight.

Not necessarily a beam  struggle, but it’ll do.

But given who these two are, it’s inevitable that they’ll tire out.

So they make some distance. Where Wario prepares his atomic Waft to blow Dedede to oblivion.

But Dedede has a trick in his… Belt?- What even is that thing around his waist?

Y’know, Boomstick said that the Gordo was a “Pain in the ass” in Dedede’s rundown, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t what he meant.

So, uh…

Ackwaaaarrrrd.

Finishing blow in

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

SUCK IT, SMASH TIER LISTS!

Verdict + Explanation.

So, right off the bat, Wario had the edge in versatility and arsenal. Especially with his reactionary powers. But it’s not like Dedede was helpless in this regard. For example, his hammer’s ice properties could cancel out Wario’s fire.

And it’s not like Wario is at all predictable. Like, who brings flatulence to a fist fight? It’s like butt guns. Nobody expects it.

But Dedede doesn’t need power-ups to do the things Wario does. Like flight, for example.

But between Wario’s toon-physics body and Dedede’s… presence and prevalence in the Kirby series, the durability was up in the air. As was a lot of their best feats, since they could only reasonably be scaled. But it’s easy to make the reasonable assumption that Dedede takes speed due to scaling to Meta Knight, while Wario scales to Mario. But as for how fast he really is, it’s hard to say.

But speed wasn’t even that big of a factor. Especially since durability is really up in the air…

Almost.

See, while Wario surviving the Shake King’s explosion is impressive, Dedede has survived a black hole.

Comparing the size of the black hole to Kirby, there’s a general estimate that can be made about it’s stats.

With the stats of the black hole established, the overall force exerted by the singularity comes about to…

… That. Five times greater than Wario’s best durability feat. And keep in mind that this is comparing it to Kirby’s size. That’s right. This is a lowballed stat.

And yeah, sure. Wario’s survived a lot. But Dedede’s not only survived far greater attacks, but he’s also fought much stronger foes.

In the end, Wario was Dede Done. And the king took the Peng-Win.

Overall impression.

Not a fan of Wario, mostly because the guy is disgusting. But it’s an interesting battle to say the least, and the fight is really fun. Sure, it has it’s cheap moments of humor, what with fart jokes, but that primarily comes from Wario, not Dedede.

This battle also had really great and fitting music. Being a much less serious fight made it feel more cartoon-y than serious, and it’s a great return to form. It feels like an early season one battle with the intense research of the later seasons mixed in. It has fun, and it’s not afraid to have fun. It’s just a great fight.

7.1/10. I would rate it higher, but the fart jokes were really low-brow.

Next Time…

So, alien devices do what they do and attach themselves to humans that prove to be the universe’s savior?

Then let’s go green. In brightest day, in blackest night, it’s gonna be hero time!

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Proof that Humans are special.

[kaaramel]

tell us what your OCs would do in the Forge

marcy: oh, dude, why haven’t we discussed FFTT chars in the forge... i’m not sure how to distinguish marcy from woodie perkwise, though. maybe lucy takes longer to come back to her but marcy has a bonus to unarmed damage so she can keep punching people at less of a penalty? that still sounds exclusively like a drawback, idk, unless her unarmed damage is HIGHER somehow than hitting w/ luce. she knows martial arts but maybe not that much

waverly: HATES THIS, extremely nervous, can’t actually die, just miserable in a sweltering-hot environment. staff/book user, def. by strictest interpretation of their native mechanics they should have a natural health regen but even a slow one feels potentially unbalanced? idk. 

bookie: hates this also, extremely much, but, (at least if we take the original cartoon version over the humanized cthulhuverse version) has experience tolerating Literal Actual Hell and therefore weirdly ok with the temperatures. i’m not sure what they could even use aside from books. is “exclusively books” at all viable? oh well! RIP! they shouldn’t even be here! probably ought to have a unique book item ... the Infernal Ledger, maybe, and the special gives a random result? like a game&watch judgement hammer style of thing, where there’s a dice roll each time for 1/6 chance of something pathetic but 1/6 of something DEVASTATING

luc: also hates this, but able to take it slightly more in stride. dart/staff user. comes with a furby companion who wanders around the arena acting as a distractor/damage sponge, bernie-style; i was going to say three furbies with less individual HP than bernie but that seems actively worse on almost every level. a bonus to using healstaff in some way, maybe?

cicely and caraway i am counting as a collective: absolutely having the time of their jackass lives. darts exclusively. i want to say their specials (even w/ the starter darts) inflict a lingering-damage burn condition? under normal circumstances they can’t actually set people’s heads on fire with a bullet but (waves hand around dismissively) forge magic

lucky: i-is bird ? ? i’m not sure how to adapt forge to Bird, which is a shame bc he’d be very into it

NB: e finds this all quite strange and would rather be elsewhere but tuff enuff to handle it. is technically also bird, but with hands, which helps a lot. dart/melee but starts with darts; uhh, a bonus to attacking an enemy that your allies are also attacking? maybe periodic and shared with allies, sort of wigfrid-style. that’s what comes up when i try to imagine a perk that’s both a rogue sneak attack and bardic song support.

dunun: WOULD CRUSH THIS SHIT, i’m tempted to say full melee even though she is technically a spellcaster also. i mean really the way to model it would be melee + new item category: musical instrument, and give her a drum that drops a couple rounds in when dunun is present (like the drill spear) that she can whack people with but the special buffs allies within the circle, maybe.

rasp: BY STRICTEST INTERPRETATION U COULD SAY THEYRE MADE FOR THIS... is staff/book/melee unbalanced.... oh well, you could drop the melee if you needed to. not sure what perk is appropriate... unique book that summons a star which heals or buffs allies within its light radius, maybe. two healing sources might be OP.

[the-voice-of-hell]

The Septagram

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***

Jen had given up on her futile assault, brought Amduscias to the edge of the magic circle and set him to work there.  The unicorn planted his horn in the invisible magic shield, creating a point of conflict.  His energy was white ripples across the surface, the magic circle was orange fiery sparks.  She had to step back to avoid being singed, and patted his rump affectionately.

Park stood between the praying civilians and the demon show.  He couldn’t see Infante’s face in that blur and it disturbed him intensely.  How could anyone live through that treatment?  His brain would be one big blob of blood from all the burst vessels.

Rocks and water fell from the roof over the flaming wheel and sputtered away as nothing.  Was it a collapse, coming to destroy them all?  A dark shape came down from the roof, like an angry oversized mosquito with broken wings.  It also crashed into the fire and was thrown to the ground behind the demon.

Park and Jen came around for a closer look, while Amduscias kept stabbing the shield and Maddy and Daddy kept praying.  Abalaam laughed and told them what was happening before they had a chance to figure it out for themselves.

“Welcome Iphigenia, the Hammer of Doom.  Now, Jennifer, you must decide where you will stand.”

Jen looked at the crumpled pile of bloody sticks and rags in between her and the cop.  She couldn’t believe the frail-looking thing was a superhero like herself.  “Iphigenia?  Are you OK?”

Park was appalled.  She was in horrible shape again - clothes ripped up, soaked with water and dirt and blood.  Big swollen knots had formed on her arms in a few places and on the left side of her chin.

The beaten creature blinked, became human again, as she stretched up to a sitting position.  She looked at Jen and Park.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m OK.  Is this..?”

“Abalaam’s wheel,” Park said.  “Listen, he has hostages in there.”

“Huh?”

Jen said, “He has my friend Sergio, and another guy trapped in his wheel.  I have my unicorn working on this magic shield thing, man…  I don’t know.”

Iphigenia staggered to her feet, helped by the others.

Park said, “You heard the offer?  From Bymaan?”

Jen said, “Abalaam too.  It’s like a cartoon angel and devil on your shoulder, but they’re both devils.”

Park said, “All I heard was Abalaam.”

Abalaam said, “I told you, she doesn’t care about mortals.”

Finally the Queen spoke.  “That’s not true!  I love all of you.  But the nephilim will decide our battle, that is clear.”

The break in her concentration was enough for Abalaam to make a move.  He lurched to his feet, and all the little people behind him had to scramble out of the way of the big flaming wheel.

Abalaam struck out with his huge red arms, as if to strangle her.  Bymaan grabbed his hands with her own, clutching them, locking with them.  They pressed on each other - her from below, him from above.  She got one knee off the ground and bared her gritted teeth.  A lion’s snarl was in her breath.  Sparks and fire flowed from his body, the vents in his flesh belching like volcanic gas.

 Iphigenia raised her hammer to attack the wheel, and Jen and Park both got in her way.  She let it fall back.  “What the hell?”

Park said, “That wheel is made out of people, dammit!  Think!”

“I don’t know them,” she said with a snarl.

Jen said, “You shouldn’t have to!  Let’s just go hit him in the head or something.”

She groaned and dragged the hammer around to look at the giant grapplers in profile.  “Kinda hard to reach his head.”

“Well-”

Abalaam interrupted.  “If you defeat me without killing her first, you’ll never stop her!”

Park said, “I believe him, and I can see the future, so just, keep that in mind.”

Ippy looked at him through narrow eyes.

Jen said, “I’ll give you a piggyback ride, and you can hit him with the hammer!”

“I could just ride the unicorn.”

“No, he’s mine!”

“What?”  Now she had narrow eyes for Jen.

“I mean, well, he can’t get inside the magic circle like we can, so you couldn’t reach him anyway.”

The grappling demons shifted and everyone had to hustle out of the way again.

On the other side of the battle, the Hommes’s prayers were interrupted by the demons finally breaking their stillness, the alarming mounting energy around them.  Maddy shuddered and Jason felt like it but didn’t have the energy.

She said, “Daddy, I’m afraid.  When I pray I don’t feel Jesus in my heart, don’t see a light, or anything.  Is it real, or was it just dumb luck I found we both lived?”

“That’s why they call it faith, kiddo.  I don’t feel it either, but maybe if we try hard enough, things work out for the best, right?”

“God!”  She bit her fist in terror at the display of the giant grapplers.

“I got you, Baby.  I’m never gonna let you go again.”

Iphigenia said, “Yeah, I’ll kill him.  You’ll get your boys back.”  She started walking past the fight, for whatever her plan was.  Jen and Park stopped her.

Jen said, “Wait.  We don’t want any kinda demons ruling Seattle, do we?  Maybe we get we kill Bymaan first, like the detective said, and then get Abalaam.”

“Really?  I don’t care who runs Seattle.”

The wheel slowed enough for Jen and Park to see their men dangling within.  They moaned in torment.  Jen gasped and Park fell to a knee.  “JAMIE!”  Infante picked up his head just long enough to look at him sadly before the wheel sparked to life again.

During the slow moment, Bymaan had gained an advantage.  As soon as the motion began again, Abalaam shoved her back down.  Iphigenia took their reactions as license to move.

She went back to the camel and clambered up the saddle to its hump.  It cocked its head, as if in understanding of her plan, to make a perfect ramp.  She ran up its neck, over its head, and leapt over Bymaan’s crown - bringing the hammer down on Abalaam’s face.

The claw stuck in one of his eyes, and she hung there, feet on his chest.  Then he smiled and opened his eye - unharmed - releasing the hammer.  She fell down between the fighters.

Abalaam said, “Did I say you could harm me?  I might have exaggerated.”

Bymaan said, “Stop tormenting her!”  Her voice was like a lion’s roar.

Park went to the flaming wheel and tried to reach inside.  His hands were battered away, his sleeves caught fire.  Jen pulled him away and patted out the flames.  “C’mon, officer man!”

He looked at the blurred wheel.  The center was easiest to make out - a bare stomach and navel, spinning in place so fast.  “What do we do?”

Clark was sliding down the rocks on his dance shoes, angling his feet just so to minimize the friction damage.  There was a light down there in the darkness - he had to imagine it was the Queen’s hell powers.

He came out through the crack into an open cavern, lit by all kinds of magical weirdness.  But he was landing feet first on a giant flaming wheel, which was no good.

There was heat, sparks, and then a soft feeling on his heels.  He was running down the side of the wheel.  Time didn’t slow, but his mind and body went faster than he would ever have imagined possible.  Step one - realize that feeling below his show was a human body.  Step two - realize nobody would want to be inside a flaming wheel.  Step three - felt firmer, like he was touching a shoulder, or somewhere more center mass.  Step four - bend at the waist for more power.  Step five - push against that body with both feet, and all your strength.

The kick sent him sprawling toward the floor.  He doubled into a little flip and landed on his feet, sliding to a stop in front of some scared cowering people with a little flourish.

“Did somebody ask for a little razzle dazzle?”

The lady said, “God?”

A demonic roar snapped his attention to the scene behind him, before he could make sense of that bizarre question.

Infante and Sergio came spilling out of the wheel onto Park and Jen, and they all got tangled like Twister.  Amduscias snickered in horsey amusement at the spectacle, or maybe in satisfaction that the magic circle had weakened.  He pressed in harder with his horn, even more white sparks spraying out all around it.

Jen got Sergio free and took him into her lap, pieta-style, wiping his face with her hand.  “Are you…  Can you..?”  He was too dazed to respond - but he looked like he was going to live.  She smiled, even though she still had no idea what the hell was happening.

Park cradled Infante, kissed him once, passionately.  Jamie shed a tear, embarrassed for needing to be saved again, but appreciative.  From across the scene, Clark saw the kiss, and realized his snap decision had worked out famously.  Was it even possible for him to do something wrong at this point in his life?

Both demons were on their feet now, fists gripped, pushing against each other.  Clearly if one broke the circle, it was bad news.  But while they were still inside, they could do some damage to each other.

Abalaam opened his jaw too wide, and his eyes and mouth began to glow intensely, pouring terrible light over the Queen’s face.  She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes, some blood running out.

Then she opened her own mouth too wide, and her tongue lashed out - now excessively long, metallic, sharp as a razor.  It slashed at the meat of his face, neck, and chest.  Fiery orange-yellow blood began to flow from him, and more red blood from her, as her hair caught fire and skin blackened and split there.  They lost their grips on each other’s hands and crashed into each other, grasped and clawed to do their worst.

Jen said to Iphigenia, “We can take them now!” and nodded toward the demons.  Iphigenia nodded back, then went to work.  The two nephilim stepped into the magic circle ready to do some damage.

Jen did a flying double kick to Bymaan’s right leg and she slipped down to one knee, roaring in pain.  Abalaam tried to take advantage, but Ippy leapt off the ground and sunk her hammer claw into the back of his hand.  His roar was less like a lion and more like thunder, but either way, these were signs of weakness.  The fallen angels were in a bad situation.

Clark had wanted to give that Queen the business, but seeing her wounded, being stomped on by the young lady, it gave him pause.  And why was she fighting another demon, when she clearly had bigger things to worry about?  His instincts were failing him in that moment.

Bymaan grabbed for Jen and caught nothing.  The little dynamo ducked her big slow hands and sprang off her thigh to crash shoulder first into the side of her chin.  The move caught the Queen like a right cross, and she was dazed.

Iphigenia hauled herself up onto Abalaam’s arm as he tried to get a grip on her, and used it as a springboard to drive her hammer down into his skull.  She put her entire being into the move, left no energy or thought in where she would fall in the aftermath.

His face caved in like a paper bag, spraying yellow-white blood from top and bottom like a volcanic eruption.  His body staggered back to knees, then bent over backward, shooting sparks and flames like a geyser.

Everyone was too weak or confused to do a thing.  Amduscias lowered his horn and studied the battle between Jen and the Queen.  Only Infante managed to say something.

“Don’t trust...”

Park looked at him with wet eyes.  “What?”

Jen was on back of the Queen’s neck, knocking off her crown.  “Iphigenia!  We gotta get her now!”

Iphigenia looked over at Jen slowly, the bursting molten remains of Abalaam lighting her from behind.

Five minutes before, in a graveyard chamber above, the pink paper grew heavy in Iphigenia’s hand.  ...Bymaan prepareth good familiars, can raiseth the dead for a time of seven years…  What does this mean, lady?

She was in a magic circle, above the Queen looking down.  The fallen angel was small, human sized.  Some humans off to the side looked like hobbits, a unicorn like a pony.  Iphigenia understood she was in Abalaam’s place - and as giant.

The Queen looked up at her and smiled, eyes gentle, sparkling.  “You lost somebody.  Who was it?”

“She was just some kind of monster.  I don’t know.  I wish...”

“That’s even better.  Don’t you understand?”

She looked at the soft white lady in confusion, her chest heavy with feelings.  “No!  I don’t understand anything!  I’m so fucking tired.”

The Queen reached out to touch her face.  “If the person you lost was human, my resurrection powers would be useless.  Humans have a divine soul that a fallen angel cannot seal.  But a monster… She was a vampire?”

Ippy swallowed hard.  “Yeah.”

“I can restore her for a time - and you have the power to make that last.  Forever.”

Jen looked at Iphigenia wildly.  “Come on!  You can do this!”

Iphigenia said, “I want my dolly,” and leapt up, shoving Jen off the Queen’s shoulders with the flat of her hammer.

Infante screamed, “NOOOO!”

Park realized what the vision was about - too late.

The camel picked up Jen by the scruff of her shirt, and tossed her aside.  She landed roughly on the bricks by Sergio and the cops.

Clark still couldn’t bring himself to give the ladies a proper rollicking.  He shook his head in confusion, even as he came to understand what he was seeing.  Maddy reached out from behind him, her father restraining her.

“You have to do something!”

Bymaan nodded to Amduscias, smudged a line out of the magic circle with her big palm.  The unicorn stepped into the circle and laid his horn on Iphigenia.  Dark blood ran out of her contusions, lightened to bright scarlet, then nothing, as her flesh smoothed out.  She reached up a palm and shoved her jaw back into place, wincing.  The inflamed tissues immediately healed under the tender ministrations of unicorn magic.

Jen cried out, as she shook off the daze.  “Et tu, Amduscias?!”  Sergio held her back.

Bymaan’s forehead sealed and smoothed over, the burned skin falling away like scraps of paper, the blood congealing to black powder and disintegrating.  She reached out a hand to Iphigenia.  “My greatest knight.  The Cherry Hill Citadel is yours, and your prize within.”

Iphigenia choked down a sob and smiled, tears in her eyes.  She knew it was real.  Queen Bymaan had no reason to lie at that point.  She accepted the giant hand on the side of her face, and held it there.  “Thank you.”

Infante rolled his eyes up and moaned in defeat, still too weak from his captivity, not a weapon in sight.  Park held him and felt his pain.

Madison felt foolish for imagining the old man might have been god, but she recognized he was one of the super weirdos.  She yelled again, “You have to do something!”

Clark grabbed his head in frustration.  “What in heck should I do?”

Jason gently pulled Maddy back to him.  “It’s Chinatown, Baby.  There’s nothing you can do.”  Goatish angels began to pour in from above, and Maddy knew once again with a certainty - Jesus didn’t give a shit about her.

***

NEXT

-

[kappasigmalife]

Characters for a story im doing

Christopher “Chrisper” Matthews Age: 22 (chp 1), 24(chp 2) Eye Color: Brown (Chp 1), (Greyish-brown, Chp 2) Hair color: Brunette, crew cut, greyish brown (Chp 2) Identifying feature (Beginning comics): Rectangular glasses, sapphire stud on right ear Cause of death: Freezing, taken off life support Spectral Ability: Cryomancy, Emotional Calming Family: Helen Monroe: Half-sister         Joesph Matthews: Little brother         Laura Matthews: Mother         Andrew Matthews: Father Skills: massaging people, fencing, able to write almost anything, only person who can calm Robby down without violence, freezing the school to get out of class. Interests: reading, writing, bass guitar, walking in the dark, smoking, gaming, keep his area clean Background: Fairly neutral and stands by his beliefs, but keeps them to himself before causing a scene, caring to all that aren’t assholes to him, and ready to help his friends when they need it. While in chapter one he is normally happy on the outside, but deep down has loneliness building up from failed dates until meeting the man of his dreams at pride. An asshole with a heart of gold, many see him as any other dick, but when you need a massage or a talking to, he’s your man, seen with a hand of ice in one and a joint in the other; he still can’t get to the level of chill as Paul. Despite being abused emotionally and physically by his father, he still holds his head high. While considered the heir to a major industrial corporation ran by his father, Chris was more of a reclusive creative thinker, jotting down ideas for stories in a journal he kept hidden away, despite what his father wanted, Chris went to university under a liberal studies major focusing on natural and social sciences, hoping to get into social media coordination in conjunction of being a writer. As payback his father forced him to join a frat or risk losing his college tuition as a result, this ultimately led to his untimely death. Confused of what he really wanted, Chris explored dating both genders and always fell flat on his face either from superficial morons or people who confuse lust for love. He comes to love the man of his dreams, brendan a chubby goth who also happens to be a werewolf, they moved in mated and got married, all the while during an ritual for the mateship, chris is turned into a frost wolf and remains to devote his love to his one true love. Despite everything, chris slowly becomes cold and regretful after murdering a werewolf while being jumped after a meeting, leading to his imprisonment, and trial. While detained he was tortured by the guards as a turned werewolf instead of pureblood now scarred and having no lasting look in his eyes, even when gazing in the heart of brendan. Although slowly turns back after being hugged.

Paul Stone Age: 23(Chp 1), 25(Chp 2) Eye Color: Blue Hair color: blonde hair to the neck Identifying feature (beginning comics): Wireless headset on head Cause of Death: Electrocution by speaker Spectral Ability: Technological Transport, Omnipotence Family: Eh doesn’t care to say Skills: Hacking, engineering, singing, expert gamer, arson, canny ability to remain calm in any situation. Interests: gaming, singing, listening to metal, smoking, drinking, going on warpaths, setting the campuses forest on fire. Background: stoner genius, Paul complies with society’s bullshit and tends to stay away from drama by getting high as much as he can. Completing a collection of games from the human world keeps him occupied while learning about gender studies and music production while at AU. Moreover he relies on his RD of the house Reefer to get him the good shit before he’s got to deal with more crap around the house. While knowing everything about everyone, he tends to wait for the perfect moment to pop out and tell someone off for a witty comeback or just film a sex tape with his friends involved with no consent and a measly 10% of the profits. A natural ladies man ready for a polyromantic night in or out of his house tends to go well for him, although many end up falling for another. Being friends with a cryomancer massage therapist helps his stress during finals week, but if he’s pushed over the edge, you’ll be knocking on heaven’s door with his growling voice. Born into a moderately decent home, Paul was drawn to the art of metal at a young age and developed his voice by the time puberty hit; his longtime friends formed a band originally covering popular tracks of the time but soon after making original music on soundcloud got gigs ranging from their hometown to the upper levels of city limits, growing in popularity, only for his dreams being shot down by a bolt of lightning hitting a speaker and ending up being the newest edition to AU. despite knowing everything the only thing paul does know is why helen falls for robby, which baffles him to no end, until he tokes up again.

Robert Esposito Age: 21(Chp 1), 23(Chp 2) Eye color: Green Hair color: Dirty Blonde, cut short Identifying feature (Beginning comics): Naruto headband around forehead Cause of Death: Exhaustion from a 13 day watching spree of Naruto from beginning to end Spectral ability: Can enter any known fantasy world, accumulates a cartoon body Family: repressed so much of his childhood he doesn’t even remember being born. Skills: Filibustering, knowing way too much about anime and manga, sketching and painting, taking a punch, getting a girl out of his league to go out with him. Interests: Reading manga, fighting his roommates on chores, peeking on Chris’s failed romance life, making smart jokes, making his own manga a reality, organizing his dvd collection Background: Not much known in the past of his 6 ft. muscled nerd and his manga collection, he just showed up out of nowhere and was sent to live with Paul to get off Arthurs back about the amount of “flaws” of the afterlife. Going through 4 houses, he finally found someone who could tolerate his filibuster, or at least stoned enough to not care. Although ready to jump into a issue and help as much as he can, he is far more doing harm than good, probably from being doped too much as a kid. Usually buried in his collection of every one piece and Naruto issue known to man, he usually fights Chris on his taste of bad anime like gurren laggan, fate/stay, and Magi. Always ready for an adventure while everyone else wants to smoke and chill with a few games, he’s ready to drag them into any world he chooses, even without consent. Known for his abrasive commentary the housemates have their own way of dealing with Robby’s tirades of ranting, mostly with a hammer to the head or ice to the mouth, either way he’s quiet for an hour. While many find his words confusing, no one can compete with his art style and his attention to details and knowledge of chemistry

Helen Monroe Age: 24(Chp 1), 26(Chp 2) Eye Color: Hazel Hair color: Light brown Identifying Feature (Beginning comics): Black choker with a rose petal Cause of Death: Overdose of Adderall Spectral ability: Magic bag of weapons, can pull them out of thin air for comedic relief Family: Sophia Monroe: Mother         Andrew Matthews: Father Christopher Mathews: Half-brother         Joseph Matthews: Half-brother Skills: Weapon proficiency, singing, fencing, dealing with Robby’s attitude, make people pay for their crap against others. Interests: Singing with the band, cuddling with Robby, listening to Chris’s stories, smoking joints, singing Disney songs with Paul. Background: Born from an affair with Andrew Matthews and a woman he picked up from the bar one night while engaged to Chris’s mother Laura, Helen was born into a bad part of the neighborhood after Matthew viewed her mother as nothing but a druggie and herself a waste of life. She struggled with her mom’s issues but saw the love Lauren gave her working two jobs to make ends meet. She put herself through college thanks to odd jobs in babysitting her bitch of a landlords child and being paid with cash and half their rent taken down as a result. She made it to university where she finally met her half-brother during the first day of orientation, while the two saw their uncanny resemblance from their mutual bastard father, the two found no ill will towards the other, knowing in each other’s eyes that they had it rough.  Struggling with classes led her to purchasing Adderall just to focus on the majority of work piling up, only to later overdose one night while her roommate was away. When in the university she’s placed with Chris and his friends and finally feels like she got a family, a horrible dysfunctional family, but one she loves, and while loves Robby with all her heart, doesn’t stop her from correcting his behavior when he does something stupid. A true badass at heart, even Paul warns never to get on her bad side.Reefer Age: Unknown Eye Color: I don’t know red I think Hair color: Bro I’m a skeleton Cause of death: Something stupid I’m sure Family: All dead Spectral Ability: reap souls, create weed, somehow can be high without getting high Skills: Growing and cultivating weed, reaping through super smash brawl in one hour, smoking a literal farm of weed in a day, pyrotechnics. Interests: Watching the gang grow up, play with the band, smoke weed, go on crazy adventures with Paul, customize his scythe to fit his mood, disobey Arthur's commands. Background: a lovable dealer from god knows where and god knows who, reefer comes from the command of Arthur and acts as the groups guiding force of growth and weed collection. Knowing Paul since he got to AU, considers him to be his little bro and chilliest of anyone on campus, randomly sleeps in the house and allowed to stay, he lurks around cleaning and cooking while everyone does their own thing. His main prerogative is to follow the few rules he keeps close to his few remaining brain cells, being that no more than 3 pets at a time. also provides many gadgets and pieces that result in consequences later on usually in the form of Arthur visiting the house enough times to have a welcome mat saying, hi Arthur sorry don’t care. Generally the calmest RD in the whole campus, but can lose his shit whenever he senses shit going down. 

Brendan Balfour Wolfheart Age: 21(Chp 1), 23(Chp 2) Eye Color: golden brown/ red when turned Hair color: black Nickname: Fluffy butt Cause of death: Illness when an infant Family: Alasdair Wolfheart: Father Veronica Wolfheart: Mother Baltair Wolfheart: Grandfather Alicia Wolfheart: Adoptive younger sister Christopher Matthews Wolfheart: Husband/mateship Helen Monroe: Sister In Law Joseph Matthews: Brother in law Andrew Matthews: Father in law Laura Matthews: Mother in law Spectral Ability: Echolocation Growl Skills: Photography, hunting, cuddling, making chris happy, flaunting his body, tracking people Interests: Getting to see chris naked any chance he gets, cuddling to him every night, making sure paul gets the best angle of his furry ass for the channel, trying to get his dad to stop being so embarrassing, eating (like a lot of food), the only man who can make chris smile like an spaz. Background: Born to a wealthy family of werewolves, brendan is the firstborn son of alasdair and veronica, whom were pleased to shower their pup with acceptance. By the time high school hit, he came out as homosexual but kept it within the family to avoid bullies, like being chubby wasn't bad enough. Not being much of a musical prowess like his father, brendan would focus on film and photography as a hobby always getting the latest equipment, until Azazel got to them. Going to AU began a new chapter of his life and was welcomed into the gay community with open arms, and asses. He was nervous of meeting someone special, until he took western civilization and noticed a certain brown eyed cub sitting next to him who got his attention, but being shy he turned his tail and ran off when he offered to help him study. Only after running to the bathroom and feeling his chest pound did he think otherwise to respond with a yes to the question. Brendan would see him around campus smoking and drinking with his friends and get red faced by his genuine smile and wisecracks. It wasn't until he went to pride with link and was given an invite to Pans wedding that he was given the chance to talk to him, after 15 shots of liquid courage though. After talking and finding their love of art, scifi, fantasy, horror, and mythology, they danced under the spotlight gazing with him making the first move by stepping on his foot, leading him to follow his heart. While normally a shy boy and a little self conscience of his appearance, chris would always reassure him he loved him no matter what, to the point that he was asked to move in with the gang not one month after beginning to date. But was hiding a side of himself, and showed chris his werewolf form with a sexy striptease only for chris to look shocked but ultimately showed who was top dog that very night. It wasn't long before they became mates for life and engaged, with hijinks ensuing including robby kissing his man, flying into a blind rage, trapped in castlevania and falling into a coma, only to see his love in his lap worried. All together this shy boy knows how to come out of his shell but also has a habit of stepping back in when times get too rough.

Alicia Fiona Wolfheart Age: 20(Chp 1), 22(Chp 2) Eye color: Emerald green Hair color: Raven black Cause of death: Stillborn Family: Alasdair Wolfheart: adoptive Father Veronica Wolfheart: adoptive  Mother Baltair Wolfheart: Grandfather Brendan Wolfheart: Adoptive Brother Christopher Wolfheart: brother in law Spectral Ability: Matchmaking Skills: swordplay, event planning, playing piano and guitar, being daddy's little girl, blood draining, matchmaking, spying on paul. Interests: Being with paul, making sure daddy doesn't embarrass the family with his nudity, wrestling her brother, trying to get Robbie to stop being a idiot. Background: oh bet you didn't expect a vampire to be adopted by werewolves, well that just makes you a bigot, now it may be shocking but alasdair and veronica love their badass daughter even if of different blood and race. From an young age alicia ran around crapping on alasdair's car changing into a bat and spooking the neighbors around the islands. Her mastery of swords comes from teaching of veronica and how to cut a bitch who messes with your man, although alicia depends more on sabotage and mental torture. Her affection for paul comes from a odd attraction to him despite not feeling a connection using her skill as a matchmaker. Growing up with brendan was all about chases and seeing his werewolf dick running around the house, truly he grew up to be dad. While developed early, alasdair played overprotective daddy by hunting them and keeping the boys from hurting his baby girl. In high school, she did fall in love, only to be played as a fool and humiliated by the boys saying she was just a rich girl looking to play. After being homeschooled, she discovered her love of music playing guitar and piano and working with her father at the record studio, although only for the summer as she demanded to go to college. Being sent to a werewolf school kinda sucked without brendan, so after meeting paul the first time, she decided to transfer to AU where she would bunk with helen, further cockblocking robby and enjoying every minute. After seeing chris and brendan marry, as well as copious amounts of alcohol and weed, she slept with paul and soon began a nice relationship that would be short lived after not seeing her matchmaking working with the two of them, only to discover her limitations are on herself, while she can see the matches of everyone else. Telling paul her true feelings, even after seeing him marry led her to find happiness with another, a man named hiro who she would meet in the later chapters and help raise a child together. Her father may see her grown up but will tackle pounce at any second to hug and praise her as his little angel.

Alasdair “Romulus” Wolfheart Age: 42(Chp 2), 44(Chp 3) Eye color: Orange Hair color: Reddish Brown Cause of Death: Impaled on Excalibur Family: Veronica Wolfheart: Wife Baltair Wolfheart: Father Brendan Wolfheart: Son Alicia Wolfheart: Adoptive daughter Remus Wolfheart: Older brother Christopher Matthews Wolfheart: Son in law Skills: Music production, tracking, loving his family, giving it to veronica all night long, flaunting his stuff, tearing apart anyone who messes with his daughter, metal music, stoning out with paul and chris, stripping naked in a matter of moments. Interests: Planning weddings, ensuring his children have a bright future, getting belly rubs from his wife, reminding robby to pay for his busted wall. Background: raised to a middle class family of werewolves, alasdair used to go by romulus by his family until college when he met his best friend Arthur, while the two were utterly different, they both saw the good in each other and would hang out around the house as much as possible. Although when the years came to a close at university and a race war was starting, arthur would change his demeanor and go on an all out kill spree against the others that stood in his way. In the chaos romulus lost his love and committed suicide on arthur's sword telling him to live with his choices before dying. As he awoke he was reunited with veronica and his son, who he lost at the age of 1 to illness, now able to grow as a healthy child and start a new life, he gave himself the name alastair to repress his old life and make himself a new man. While in the afterlife he is able to create his own record label. While his personality is optimistic and cheery at least for the first few chapters, he does come with some things in his life he keeps secret, like why he wants to break arthur's neck, why he's protective of his kids and why he never goes to a council meeting. Joining the crusades at the age of 22 way back when really cost him after seeing nothing else of the world after losing the child he and veronica loved most. Only to be reunited later on.

[prize-winning-conker]

Speaking of that daft column, it’s now more an essay, but ehh. He’s given me free reign so may as well make it count and make sure I upset someone. Think it’s done so have it early...

I was eight years old and in hospital, the cliché picture with a band aid on forehead and arm in splint. Mom hadn’t sat the entire time she’d been at my bedside - all three hours to that point. Lovingly fretting, you ask? Nope. Glaring down at me. I knew she was, her arms were folded and her weight shifted from one foot to the other as her exasperation grew, but I hadn’t dared to look all the way up to check. Eventually she cracked. 

“What have I told you?” 

That day would be the first time my mom’s most important lesson made sense to me, though it would take a number of years for me to fully absorb it. 

We were at recess. A group of classmates pulled me to one side. Their frisbee had got stuck in the tree, too high for anyone to throw a ball and knock. Could you fetch it for us? I wasn’t sure, it was pretty high and far out on the branch. But you know how to climb trees, they said, you climb the highest and fastest out of everyone. Won’t you help? It’s not fair if you don’t, you only need to shake the branch a little... They had a point. I was the best, and it wouldn’t be hard for me to do. They wouldn’t get it back that recess otherwise, so I agreed with a smile. 

It was high up. Even with my speed, by the time I reached the branch in question the gaggle of classmates had swollen to half the playground cheering me on, finally attracting the attention of horrified teachers. One called out, I panicked at their tone and slipped, slamming my head on a branch and landing with one arm outstretched futilely to break my fall. 

Apparently I went thud. I don’t remember that last part, though my classmates would argue over the exact noise for a week. I do remember being pinned to a board in the back of an ambulance, trying to get the paramedics to understand my mom was going to kill me if she found out. Too late, they said, she was on her way to the hospital. She’ll be there already, I said, to which they laughed. They stopped with a choke when they opened the back of the ambulance and there she was, glowering up at me with her jaw set. That was the last time I would look her in the eye for the next few hours. 

We said nothing to each other, save her sharp ‘well?’ when I was expected to answer a question she couldn’t. I passed through the hands of baffled trauma teams then X-ray staff to the children’s ward doctors. They could find nothing wrong with me other than a mild concussion, an associated graze, and a sprained wrist from my failed attempt to completely break my fall. I was very lucky, they repeatedly told me, I should have been killed from that height. I was to stay in overnight for observation. I guess they thought they’d missed something. After checking me over for the umpteenth time the final doctor left, then our stubborn battle began in earnest. 

I’m not sure why she caved first for once. Maybe because the other adults were doting on their poorly kids and glancing over like she had two heads, or because some of the other inmates were whispering about the chill in the air as her eyes bored into my skull. Most likely she knew Dad’s imminent arrival would undermine whatever lesson she had planned, his hugs and kisses ruining the gravitas, so she started as though I’d made a noise first.

“What have I told you?” 

It wasn’t a riddle. We’d talk after every episode of my favourite superhero cartoons, each time my Uncle appeared on TV as The Great Saiyaman, when I’d slip and call the martial arts and ki-techniques she was teaching me ‘superpowers’. Her mantra formed the closing lines of the bedtime stories of my parents’ hard-won battles.

You always have a choice, she’d say. But she didn’t understand, I did choose! It made sense to help. I was the best at climbing and was the only one who-- She grabbed my chin in one hand, forcing me to look her in the eye, her usual move when she wanted her words to stick. I think that’s when she got reported for her unorthodox parenting style, but that’s another story.

“That isn’t giving yourself a choice. You don’t have to risk yourself to help anyone, do you understand me?” 

I now appreciate why my mother was so vexed that day. It wasn’t at me, more it was with herself at not hammering home the message hard enough and soon enough. 

There’s a painful double standard in the world. We tell our kids to have big dreams and to do what makes them happiest, but the moment a child shows aptitude for something society finds useful they’re cajoled and pushed. Dare to take a different path and the interrogation become endless. I don't understand, the people say, you’re so talented, why didn't you follow your ideal career? Didn’t you want to be rich, or successful, or famous, or powerful? You could have been someone. We had such high hopes. If I were you… Those words sting, no matter the context or love with which they’re said. I’ve heard them a lot the past few days from confused colleagues and I don’t expect that to stop as the news filters out. 

Like all parents in some respects, my mom was fretting over whether she was doing the right thing. On the one hand her teaching would grant me immunity to most of life’s dangers. When my training was finished forget a fall, I could get hit by a truck and not budge an inch. On the other those same abilities would put me in the position to help when no one else could. If found out I would become a commodity to society, it would be deemed unreasonable and even irresponsible of me to decline to help and I'd be trapped. Even at that young age people were already tugging at my sleeves demanding small but potentially dangerous things. Like climbing trees. They’d sensed how easily my arm was twisted and over the years the pleading escalated. I’d see their distress and agree to help with that smile. Fetching balls from busy roads. Standing up to bullies. Chasing down a friend’s stolen phone - the mugger could have turned a gun on me at any point but I did as I was asked by my friend’s wordless yell. After all, who else right then and there could have help her?

Before I could blink I had a reputation. Classmates questioned why I wanted to go to college to write and not follow my dad into the police force, or even register to be a Crimefighter. Some were even angry. You’d be so good, so famous, I bet you’d be the best! You have so much potential - you shouldn’t waste it! I don’t understand - if I were you… I’d hidden as much of my training as I could and yet because I was so easily swayed to see the ‘common sense’ in helping they knew I was capable of something more than them. Escaping the path then dictated to me by society took a strength of will I would never have gained if it wasn’t for my family’s unwavering support. Without it I may have gone on to do my ‘duty’, that smile still plastered on my face, and hated every moment.

I may have sworn off a life of crime-fighting but I couldn’t turn my back completely. My closest friends, far more gifted in this arena than myself, went through the same struggle. We didn’t want the attention or the pressure of daily Hero work, we wanted a normal life to cling to. But we’re human to a fault - we couldn’t ignore all the world’s troubles. So instead we Shadowed, the best compromise we stumbled upon. We could move freely through the world as mere citizens, helping when we chose - not when summoned. Expectation still dogged us, though. When out the public saw my all-blacks not as a way to conceal my identity but as a uniform, a promise to help. They’d hide behind me, just like they would any named Hero or Crimefighter. I may have been free to come and go but in the moment my station was not. 

Shadowing came with a price; without an identity we lack a voice in defence and we became an easy target. We receive praise but it’s sparing, quite rightly the bulk is reserved for the plain-clothed volunteers on the ground. But once, where we were a welcome boost to the effort, nowadays our presence at disasters is expected. We’d fallen into doing our ‘duty’, though not correctly as we had the audacity to hide our faces and not give the journalists a sporting chance to hunt us down, and it drew their ire. I’d have to bite my tongue reading colleagues disparage us across the pages and even I couldn’t write too empathetically, lest my identity and connections become obvious. At times the lack of public understanding drove me to tears. Yet as the years passed Mom continued to stare me down. You still have a choice. But I did choose, I wasn’t a Hero really, I just needed to stay a little longer next time. Be more thorough, be faster. Do that then it’d be okay, people would be satisfied. She’d shake her head.

Then the true insignificance of this noise I’d been bending over backwards to placate became stupidly obvious with the arrival of something far worse than some natural disaster. For the briefest of moments the nonsense fell away, and I finally understood her.

Imagine standing in front of a man thousands of times more powerful than you could ever be. He’s willing to let you and the people you care about live if you just stepped aside. “What’s worth saving,” he says, “who here is worth dying for?” Imagine wondering, after days of headlines trashing you for a mistake you were more than capable of beating yourself up over, whether there even was a point to trying anymore. Nothing would ever be enough. You could leave, you could be safe. You’re not obligated to save the ingrates on this rock time and time again. What difference could your puny ass make, anyway? Why risk your life for literally nothing? Those you care about would understand. You even plan, your foot twitches to move. 

You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because it’s your home he wants and you’ll be damned if you’re handing it over.

And that’s what my mom meant by making a free choice. Not to act because you’re asked or shamed or want to please everyone, but because this time you think it’s the right thing to do, even for selfish reasons. Especially for selfish reasons. Screw duty, unbeholden to anyone you choose to act - whether it conforms to noble expectation or not. Mom may be the type to walk away in moments like that and I know she’d rather I follow suit, but all my parents have ever truly wanted is the weight of responsibility off my shoulders. As long as I have no regrets or guilt they couldn’t be happier for me. With that one terrifying decision made in spite of the ocean of faces hiding behind me, from then on I really didn’t care what people thought of my Shadowing.

We were told we could leave that day, that we should. We’d have a better chance on the run. But until we have no other option we’re staying. Despite all its flaws this is our home and we made up our minds back then to not budge.

Next time we appear remember: we choose freely to walk through fire, toss aside that rubble, carry you above rising waters and yes, risk death literally defending the planet. All because we want to, not because it is expected of us. The words in the media and in idle chatter around us can still leave a bitter taste at times but I can safely say they won’t lead me to dwell. Say what you want to me - If I were you… but you’re not. Tough.

The name the media and public use for me is Auntie Shadow, but between us? My name is Marron, and this is how Shadowing came to pass.

[airoasis]

The nightmare videos of childrens' YouTube ? and what's wrong with the internet today | James Bridle

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The nightmare videos of childrens' YouTube ? and what's wrong with the internet today | James Bridle

I am James. I am a writer and artist, and that i make work about technology. I do things like draw life-measurement outlines of military drones in city streets all over the world, in order that persons can start to suppose and get their heads round these relatively quite hard-to-see and rough-to-think-about technologies. I make things like neural networks that predict the results of elections situated on climate stories, due to the fact i am intrigued about what the precise potentialities of these bizarre new technologies are. Final 12 months, I built my own self-driving vehicle. However since i don’t fairly trust science, I also designed a trap for it. (Laughter) and i do these matters quite often due to the fact that I in finding them thoroughly exciting, but additionally considering I think when we speak about technological know-how, we’re generally speaking about ourselves and the best way that we realise the arena. So this is a story about technological know-how. It is a "shock egg" video. It’s essentially a video of any one opening up quite a lot of chocolate eggs and displaying the toys within to the viewer. That’s it. That is all it does for seven lengthy minutes. And i would like you to observe two things about this. To start with, this video has 30 million views.(Laughter) And the other thing is, it comes from a channel that has 6.3 million subscribers, that has a whole of eight billion views, and it can be all just extra videos like this — 30 million people looking at a man opening up these eggs. It sounds beautiful bizarre, but if you search for "surprise eggs" on YouTube, it can let you know there’s 10 million of those movies, and that i think that’s an undercount. I consider there is means, way more of those. If you happen to hold browsing, they’re unending. There may be hundreds of thousands and hundreds of thousands of these movies in more and more baroque combos of manufacturers and substances, and there is increasingly of them being uploaded on daily basis. Like, this is a unusual world. Correct? However the thing is, it’s not adults who’re observing these videos. It is children, babies. These movies are like crack for little children. There is whatever about the repetition, the steady little dopamine hit of the reveal, that completely hooks them in. And little kids watch these videos over and over and over, and they do it for hours and hours and hours.And should you try to take the monitor faraway from them, they are going to scream and scream and scream. In the event you do not feel me — and i’ve already visible humans within the viewers nodding — in the event you don’t think me, find anyone with small children and ask them, and they will understand concerning the surprise egg videos. So this is where we begin. It’s 2018, and any individual, or tons of persons, are using the same mechanism that, like, facebook and Instagram are utilizing to get you to preserve checking that app, they usually’re utilising it on YouTube to hack the brains of very young children in return for promoting revenue. As a minimum, i am hoping that’s what they’re doing. I hope that’s what they’re doing it for, due to the fact that there’s less complicated methods of constructing advert earnings on YouTube. That you can just make stuff up or steal stuff.So should you search for quite standard youngsters’ cartoons like "Peppa Pig" or "Paw Patrol," you’ll be able to to find there is thousands and hundreds of thousands of those on-line as well. Of course, most of them are not posted by the long-established content material creators. They arrive from loads and loads of one-of-a-kind random money owed, and it can be unattainable to understand who’s posting them or what their explanations possibly. Does that sound type of acquainted? In view that it’s exactly the equal mechanism that’s taking place across most of our digital offerings, where it can be unattainable to understand the place this understanding is coming from. It can be sincerely false information for youngsters, and we’re training them from beginning to click on on the very first link that comes alongside, regardless of what the supply is. That is does not look like a terribly just right concept. This is one more thing that’s particularly giant on youngsters’ YouTube.This is called the "Finger loved ones music." I simply heard any individual groan in the audience. That is the "Finger loved ones track." that is the very first one I would in finding. It can be from 2007, and it handiest has 200,000 views, which is, like, nothing on this sport. However it has this insanely earwormy tune, which i’m now not going to play to you, due to the fact that it will sear itself into your mind within the equal approach that it seared itself into mine, and i’m not going to do that to you. However just like the shock eggs, it’s received inside kids’ heads and addicted them to it. So within a number of years, these finger family videos start showing all over the place, and also you get types in one of a kind languages with trendy kids’ cartoons utilising food or, frankly, making use of something style of animation elements you seem to have mendacity round. And as soon as again, there are millions and millions and hundreds of thousands of those movies to be had online in all of these variety of insane combos. And the more time you to spend with them, the crazier and crazier you start to believe that you just might be. And that is where I type of launched into this, that feeling of deep strangeness and deep ignorance of how this thing was developed that appears to be offered around me.Considering that it can be impossible to know the place these things are coming from. Like, who’s making them? A few of them show up to be manufactured from groups of legit animators. A few of them are simply randomly assembled with the aid of application. Some of them are relatively healthful-looking younger children’ entertainers. And some of them are from persons who relatively evidently is not round youngsters at all. (Laughter) And as soon as again, this impossibility of identifying who’s making these items — like, it is a bot? Is this a character? Is that this a troll? What does it mean that we are not able to tell the difference between these matters anymore? And once more, does not that uncertainty feel variety of acquainted correct now? So the most important manner humans get views on their videos — and bear in mind, views imply cash — is that they stuff the titles of those movies with these standard terms.So you take, like, "shock eggs" and you then add "Paw Patrol," "Easter egg," or anything these things are, all of those words from other trendy videos into your title, unless you grow to be with this sort of meaningless mash of language that does not make experience to people at all. Due to the fact that of path it’s simplest fairly tiny kids who are looking at your video, and what the hell do they understand? Your actual viewers for these items is application. It is the algorithms. It can be the software that YouTube makes use of to decide upon which movies are like different videos, to make them general, to make them encouraged. And that is why you emerge as with this kind of totally meaningless mash, each of title and of content. But the thing is, you need to don’t forget, there fairly are nonetheless persons within this algorithmically optimized method, folks who are variety of increasingly compelled to act out these more and more weird mixtures of phrases, like a determined improvisation artist responding to the combined screams of a million little toddlers without delay.There are real men and women trapped within these methods, and that’s the opposite deeply unusual thing about this algorithmically pushed culture, due to the fact although you are human, you need to come to be behaving like a machine just to outlive. And also, on the opposite part of the monitor, there still are these little kids staring at these items, stuck, their full concentration grabbed by using these weird mechanisms. And most of these youngsters are too small to even use a internet site. They’re simply type of hammering on the display with their little hands. And so there is autoplay, where it simply maintains enjoying these movies over and over and over in a loop, eternally for hours and hours at a time. And there is so much weirdness in the system now that autoplay takes you to a couple beautiful strange areas. This is how, within a dozen steps, which you could go from a cute video of a counting coach to masturbating Mickey Mouse.Yeah. I am sorry about that. This does worsen. That is what occurs when all of those exclusive key phrases, all these specific portions of attention, this determined iteration of content, all comes together into a single place. That is where all these deeply bizarre key phrases come home to roost. You cross-breed the finger family video with some are living-motion superhero stuff, you add in some bizarre, trollish in-jokes or whatever, and abruptly, you come to an extraordinarily weird location certainly. The stuff that tends to upset mother and father is the stuff that has style of violent or sexual content, correct? Children’s cartoons getting assaulted, getting killed, weird pranks that really simply terrify kids.What you will have is application pulling in all of these distinct influences to mechanically generate children’ worst nightmares. And this stuff quite, particularly does have an effect on small children. Dad and mom report their youngsters being traumatized, fitting scared of the dark, becoming scared of their favorite cool animated film characters. If you take one factor faraway from this, it’s that if you have small children, maintain them the hell faraway from YouTube. (Applause) however the more thing, the item that fairly will get to me about this, is that i am no longer certain we even fairly understand how we got to this point. We’ve taken all of this have an effect on, all of those matters, and munged them together in a method that nobody particularly intended. And but, that is also the way that we’re constructing the whole world. We’re taking all of this knowledge, numerous it bad data, a number of old information filled with prejudice, stuffed with all of our worst impulses of history, and we’re constructing that into significant information units after which we’re automating it.And we’re munging it together into things like credit studies, into insurance premiums, into matters like predictive policing techniques, into sentencing guidelines. This is the way in which we’re without a doubt constructing the arena in these days out of this knowledge. And i have no idea what’s worse, that we built a procedure that seems to be entirely optimized for absolutely the worst facets of human habits, or that we look to have accomplished it by accident, without even realizing that we were doing it, on the grounds that we failed to really comprehend the systems that we were constructing, and we didn’t particularly realise learn how to do whatever another way with it. There is a couple of matters I believe that quite look to be riding this most totally on YouTube, and the primary of these is promoting, which is the monetization of attention without any real different variables at work, any take care of the folks who are in reality developing this content material, the centralization of the vigour, the separation of those matters.And i consider however you think about the usage of advertising to form of aid stuff, the sight of grown men in diapers rolling around within the sand in the hope that an algorithm that they don’t quite comprehend will supply them cash for it suggests that this in most cases isn’t the thing that we should be basing our society and culture upon, and the way in which where we must be funding it. And the other thing that is sort of the predominant driver of that is automation, which is the deployment of all of this technological know-how as soon as it arrives, without any variety of oversight, and then as soon as it can be out there, style of throwing up our hands and going, "whats up, it can be not us, it is the technological know-how." Like, "We’re not worried in it." that is no longer quite just right ample, given that these items is not only algorithmically governed, additionally it is algorithmically policed. When YouTube first started to pay concentration to this, the first thing they mentioned they’d do about it was that they’d deploy better computer finding out algorithms to reasonable the content material. Well, machine finding out, as any informed in it’s going to inform you, is basically what we now have began to name application that we do not relatively understand the way it works.And that i consider we have now ample of that already. We just isn’t leaving this stuff as much as AI to make a decision what’s right or now not, seeing that we all know what happens. It’ll censoring other matters. It is going to start censoring queer content. It will begin censoring authentic public speech. What’s allowed in these discourses, it isn’t something that’s left up to unaccountable systems. It’s part of a dialogue everybody will have to be having. But i would go away a reminder that the alternative is not very pleasant, either. YouTube additionally announced lately that they are going to release a version of their youngsters’ app that will be thoroughly moderated via humans. Fb — Zuckerberg stated a lot the same factor at Congress, when pressed about how they were going to average their stuff. He said they’d have people doing it. And what that particularly manner is, alternatively of having little toddlers being the primary character to look these things, you’re going to have underpaid, precarious contract workers without appropriate intellectual wellness support being broken with the aid of it as good.(Laughter) and that i believe we can all do fairly significantly better than that. (Applause) The concept, I consider, that brings these two things together, particularly, for me, is agency. It is like, how much do we really realise — with the aid of agency, I imply: how we know how to behave in our possess quality interests. Which — it is almost impossible to do in these systems that we don’t quite utterly realize. Inequality of power invariably results in violence. And we will see inside these techniques that inequality of figuring out does the equal thing. If there is one factor that we are able to do to start to give a boost to these programs, it is to make them more legible to the individuals who use them, so that all of us have a normal working out of what’s virtually happening here. The article, although, I think most about these systems is that this is not, as i hope I’ve explained, really about YouTube. It’s about the whole lot. These problems of accountability and agency, of opacity and complexity, of the violence and exploitation that inherently outcome from the attention of vigor in a few palms — these are a lot, so much higher issues.They usually’re issues no longer simply of YouTube and now not simply of science by and large, and they’re now not even new. They have been with us for a long time. But we in the end built this procedure, this global system, the web, that is genuinely displaying them to us on this unusual means, making them indisputable. Technology has this exclusive potential to both instantiate and proceed all of our most distinctive, more commonly hidden desires and biases and encoding them into the arena, but it surely also writes them down in order that we will see them, so that we are not able to pretend they don’t exist anymore. We ought to discontinue interested by technology as a technique to all of our issues, however consider of it as a consultant to what these issues sincerely are, that allows you to start fascinated about them accurately and start to deal with them. Thank you very much. (Applause) thank you. (Applause) Helen Walters: James, thanks for coming and giving us that speak. So it can be exciting: while you feel about the films the place the robotic overlords take over, it is all somewhat extra glamorous than what you are describing. However i ponder — in these films, you might have the resistance mounting. Is there a resistance mounting toward this stuff? Do you see any positive indicators, green shoots of resistance? James Bridle: I do not know about direct resistance, considering the fact that I consider these things is tremendous long-term.I believe it can be baked into tradition in quite deep methods. A buddy of mine, Eleanor Saitta, continuously says that any technological issues of ample scale and scope are political problems first of all. So all of these things we’re working to handle inside this should not going to be addressed just via building the technology better, but sincerely with the aid of altering the society that is producing these applied sciences. So no, right now, I feel now we have received a hell of an extended strategy to go. However as I mentioned, I think by unpacking them, by way of explaining them, via talking about them tremendous honestly, we are able to truly start to at least that method. HW: And so whilst you talk about legibility and digital literacy, I to find it complicated to suppose that we have got to location the burden of digital literacy on customers themselves. But whose accountability is schooling on this new world? JB: again, I think this responsibility is type of up to everybody, that everything we do, the whole lot we construct, everything we make, wishes to be made in a consensual discussion with every body who’s warding off it; that we’re not building techniques meant to trick and shock folks into doing the proper factor, but that they’re in reality concerned in each step in instructing them, in view that each of those methods is academic.That is what i’m hopeful about, about even this relatively grim stuff, that if that you can take it and appear at it effectively, it’s genuinely in itself a section of education that allows you to start seeing how elaborate systems come collectively and work and perhaps be ready to apply that expertise elsewhere on the planet. HW: James, it is such an essential dialogue, and i do know many folks listed below are quite open and all set to have it, so thanks for opening off our morning.JB: Thanks very a lot. Cheers. (Applause) .

[batterymonster2021]

The nightmare videos of childrens' YouTube ? and what's wrong with the internet today | James Bridle

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/the-nightmare-videos-of-childrens-youtube-and-whats-wrong-with-the-internet-today-james-bridle/

The nightmare videos of childrens' YouTube ? and what's wrong with the internet today | James Bridle

I am James. I am a writer and artist, and that i make work about technology. I do things like draw life-measurement outlines of military drones in city streets all over the world, in order that persons can start to suppose and get their heads round these relatively quite hard-to-see and rough-to-think-about technologies. I make things like neural networks that predict the results of elections situated on climate stories, due to the fact i am intrigued about what the precise potentialities of these bizarre new technologies are. Final 12 months, I built my own self-driving vehicle. However since i don’t fairly trust science, I also designed a trap for it. (Laughter) and i do these matters quite often due to the fact that I in finding them thoroughly exciting, but additionally considering I think when we speak about technological know-how, we’re generally speaking about ourselves and the best way that we realise the arena. So this is a story about technological know-how. It is a "shock egg" video. It’s essentially a video of any one opening up quite a lot of chocolate eggs and displaying the toys within to the viewer. That’s it. That is all it does for seven lengthy minutes. And i would like you to observe two things about this. To start with, this video has 30 million views.(Laughter) And the other thing is, it comes from a channel that has 6.3 million subscribers, that has a whole of eight billion views, and it can be all just extra videos like this — 30 million people looking at a man opening up these eggs. It sounds beautiful bizarre, but if you search for "surprise eggs" on YouTube, it can let you know there’s 10 million of those movies, and that i think that’s an undercount. I consider there is means, way more of those. If you happen to hold browsing, they’re unending. There may be hundreds of thousands and hundreds of thousands of these movies in more and more baroque combos of manufacturers and substances, and there is increasingly of them being uploaded on daily basis. Like, this is a unusual world. Correct? However the thing is, it’s not adults who’re observing these videos. It is children, babies. These movies are like crack for little children. There is whatever about the repetition, the steady little dopamine hit of the reveal, that completely hooks them in. And little kids watch these videos over and over and over, and they do it for hours and hours and hours.And should you try to take the monitor faraway from them, they are going to scream and scream and scream. In the event you do not feel me — and i’ve already visible humans within the viewers nodding — in the event you don’t think me, find anyone with small children and ask them, and they will understand concerning the surprise egg videos. So this is where we begin. It’s 2018, and any individual, or tons of persons, are using the same mechanism that, like, facebook and Instagram are utilizing to get you to preserve checking that app, they usually’re utilising it on YouTube to hack the brains of very young children in return for promoting revenue. As a minimum, i am hoping that’s what they’re doing. I hope that’s what they’re doing it for, due to the fact that there’s less complicated methods of constructing advert earnings on YouTube. That you can just make stuff up or steal stuff.So should you search for quite standard youngsters’ cartoons like "Peppa Pig" or "Paw Patrol," you’ll be able to to find there is thousands and hundreds of thousands of those on-line as well. Of course, most of them are not posted by the long-established content material creators. They arrive from loads and loads of one-of-a-kind random money owed, and it can be unattainable to understand who’s posting them or what their explanations possibly. Does that sound type of acquainted? In view that it’s exactly the equal mechanism that’s taking place across most of our digital offerings, where it can be unattainable to understand the place this understanding is coming from. It can be sincerely false information for youngsters, and we’re training them from beginning to click on on the very first link that comes alongside, regardless of what the supply is. That is does not look like a terribly just right concept. This is one more thing that’s particularly giant on youngsters’ YouTube.This is called the "Finger loved ones music." I simply heard any individual groan in the audience. That is the "Finger loved ones track." that is the very first one I would in finding. It can be from 2007, and it handiest has 200,000 views, which is, like, nothing on this sport. However it has this insanely earwormy tune, which i’m now not going to play to you, due to the fact that it will sear itself into your mind within the equal approach that it seared itself into mine, and i’m not going to do that to you. However just like the shock eggs, it’s received inside kids’ heads and addicted them to it. So within a number of years, these finger family videos start showing all over the place, and also you get types in one of a kind languages with trendy kids’ cartoons utilising food or, frankly, making use of something style of animation elements you seem to have mendacity round. And as soon as again, there are millions and millions and hundreds of thousands of those movies to be had online in all of these variety of insane combos. And the more time you to spend with them, the crazier and crazier you start to believe that you just might be. And that is where I type of launched into this, that feeling of deep strangeness and deep ignorance of how this thing was developed that appears to be offered around me.Considering that it can be impossible to know the place these things are coming from. Like, who’s making them? A few of them show up to be manufactured from groups of legit animators. A few of them are simply randomly assembled with the aid of application. Some of them are relatively healthful-looking younger children’ entertainers. And some of them are from persons who relatively evidently is not round youngsters at all. (Laughter) And as soon as again, this impossibility of identifying who’s making these items — like, it is a bot? Is this a character? Is that this a troll? What does it mean that we are not able to tell the difference between these matters anymore? And once more, does not that uncertainty feel variety of acquainted correct now? So the most important manner humans get views on their videos — and bear in mind, views imply cash — is that they stuff the titles of those movies with these standard terms.So you take, like, "shock eggs" and you then add "Paw Patrol," "Easter egg," or anything these things are, all of those words from other trendy videos into your title, unless you grow to be with this sort of meaningless mash of language that does not make experience to people at all. Due to the fact that of path it’s simplest fairly tiny kids who are looking at your video, and what the hell do they understand? Your actual viewers for these items is application. It is the algorithms. It can be the software that YouTube makes use of to decide upon which movies are like different videos, to make them general, to make them encouraged. And that is why you emerge as with this kind of totally meaningless mash, each of title and of content. But the thing is, you need to don’t forget, there fairly are nonetheless persons within this algorithmically optimized method, folks who are variety of increasingly compelled to act out these more and more weird mixtures of phrases, like a determined improvisation artist responding to the combined screams of a million little toddlers without delay.There are real men and women trapped within these methods, and that’s the opposite deeply unusual thing about this algorithmically pushed culture, due to the fact although you are human, you need to come to be behaving like a machine just to outlive. And also, on the opposite part of the monitor, there still are these little kids staring at these items, stuck, their full concentration grabbed by using these weird mechanisms. And most of these youngsters are too small to even use a internet site. They’re simply type of hammering on the display with their little hands. And so there is autoplay, where it simply maintains enjoying these movies over and over and over in a loop, eternally for hours and hours at a time. And there is so much weirdness in the system now that autoplay takes you to a couple beautiful strange areas. This is how, within a dozen steps, which you could go from a cute video of a counting coach to masturbating Mickey Mouse.Yeah. I am sorry about that. This does worsen. That is what occurs when all of those exclusive key phrases, all these specific portions of attention, this determined iteration of content, all comes together into a single place. That is where all these deeply bizarre key phrases come home to roost. You cross-breed the finger family video with some are living-motion superhero stuff, you add in some bizarre, trollish in-jokes or whatever, and abruptly, you come to an extraordinarily weird location certainly. The stuff that tends to upset mother and father is the stuff that has style of violent or sexual content, correct? Children’s cartoons getting assaulted, getting killed, weird pranks that really simply terrify kids.What you will have is application pulling in all of these distinct influences to mechanically generate children’ worst nightmares. And this stuff quite, particularly does have an effect on small children. Dad and mom report their youngsters being traumatized, fitting scared of the dark, becoming scared of their favorite cool animated film characters. If you take one factor faraway from this, it’s that if you have small children, maintain them the hell faraway from YouTube. (Applause) however the more thing, the item that fairly will get to me about this, is that i am no longer certain we even fairly understand how we got to this point. We’ve taken all of this have an effect on, all of those matters, and munged them together in a method that nobody particularly intended. And but, that is also the way that we’re constructing the whole world. We’re taking all of this knowledge, numerous it bad data, a number of old information filled with prejudice, stuffed with all of our worst impulses of history, and we’re constructing that into significant information units after which we’re automating it.And we’re munging it together into things like credit studies, into insurance premiums, into matters like predictive policing techniques, into sentencing guidelines. This is the way in which we’re without a doubt constructing the arena in these days out of this knowledge. And i have no idea what’s worse, that we built a procedure that seems to be entirely optimized for absolutely the worst facets of human habits, or that we look to have accomplished it by accident, without even realizing that we were doing it, on the grounds that we failed to really comprehend the systems that we were constructing, and we didn’t particularly realise learn how to do whatever another way with it. There is a couple of matters I believe that quite look to be riding this most totally on YouTube, and the primary of these is promoting, which is the monetization of attention without any real different variables at work, any take care of the folks who are in reality developing this content material, the centralization of the vigour, the separation of those matters.And i consider however you think about the usage of advertising to form of aid stuff, the sight of grown men in diapers rolling around within the sand in the hope that an algorithm that they don’t quite comprehend will supply them cash for it suggests that this in most cases isn’t the thing that we should be basing our society and culture upon, and the way in which where we must be funding it. And the other thing that is sort of the predominant driver of that is automation, which is the deployment of all of this technological know-how as soon as it arrives, without any variety of oversight, and then as soon as it can be out there, style of throwing up our hands and going, "whats up, it can be not us, it is the technological know-how." Like, "We’re not worried in it." that is no longer quite just right ample, given that these items is not only algorithmically governed, additionally it is algorithmically policed. When YouTube first started to pay concentration to this, the first thing they mentioned they’d do about it was that they’d deploy better computer finding out algorithms to reasonable the content material. Well, machine finding out, as any informed in it’s going to inform you, is basically what we now have began to name application that we do not relatively understand the way it works.And that i consider we have now ample of that already. We just isn’t leaving this stuff as much as AI to make a decision what’s right or now not, seeing that we all know what happens. It’ll censoring other matters. It is going to start censoring queer content. It will begin censoring authentic public speech. What’s allowed in these discourses, it isn’t something that’s left up to unaccountable systems. It’s part of a dialogue everybody will have to be having. But i would go away a reminder that the alternative is not very pleasant, either. YouTube additionally announced lately that they are going to release a version of their youngsters’ app that will be thoroughly moderated via humans. Fb — Zuckerberg stated a lot the same factor at Congress, when pressed about how they were going to average their stuff. He said they’d have people doing it. And what that particularly manner is, alternatively of having little toddlers being the primary character to look these things, you’re going to have underpaid, precarious contract workers without appropriate intellectual wellness support being broken with the aid of it as good.(Laughter) and that i believe we can all do fairly significantly better than that. (Applause) The concept, I consider, that brings these two things together, particularly, for me, is agency. It is like, how much do we really realise — with the aid of agency, I imply: how we know how to behave in our possess quality interests. Which — it is almost impossible to do in these systems that we don’t quite utterly realize. Inequality of power invariably results in violence. And we will see inside these techniques that inequality of figuring out does the equal thing. If there is one factor that we are able to do to start to give a boost to these programs, it is to make them more legible to the individuals who use them, so that all of us have a normal working out of what’s virtually happening here. The article, although, I think most about these systems is that this is not, as i hope I’ve explained, really about YouTube. It’s about the whole lot. These problems of accountability and agency, of opacity and complexity, of the violence and exploitation that inherently outcome from the attention of vigor in a few palms — these are a lot, so much higher issues.They usually’re issues no longer simply of YouTube and now not simply of science by and large, and they’re now not even new. They have been with us for a long time. But we in the end built this procedure, this global system, the web, that is genuinely displaying them to us on this unusual means, making them indisputable. Technology has this exclusive potential to both instantiate and proceed all of our most distinctive, more commonly hidden desires and biases and encoding them into the arena, but it surely also writes them down in order that we will see them, so that we are not able to pretend they don’t exist anymore. We ought to discontinue interested by technology as a technique to all of our issues, however consider of it as a consultant to what these issues sincerely are, that allows you to start fascinated about them accurately and start to deal with them. Thank you very much. (Applause) thank you. (Applause) Helen Walters: James, thanks for coming and giving us that speak. So it can be exciting: while you feel about the films the place the robotic overlords take over, it is all somewhat extra glamorous than what you are describing. However i ponder — in these films, you might have the resistance mounting. Is there a resistance mounting toward this stuff? Do you see any positive indicators, green shoots of resistance? James Bridle: I do not know about direct resistance, considering the fact that I consider these things is tremendous long-term.I believe it can be baked into tradition in quite deep methods. A buddy of mine, Eleanor Saitta, continuously says that any technological issues of ample scale and scope are political problems first of all. So all of these things we’re working to handle inside this should not going to be addressed just via building the technology better, but sincerely with the aid of altering the society that is producing these applied sciences. So no, right now, I feel now we have received a hell of an extended strategy to go. However as I mentioned, I think by unpacking them, by way of explaining them, via talking about them tremendous honestly, we are able to truly start to at least that method. HW: And so whilst you talk about legibility and digital literacy, I to find it complicated to suppose that we have got to location the burden of digital literacy on customers themselves. But whose accountability is schooling on this new world? JB: again, I think this responsibility is type of up to everybody, that everything we do, the whole lot we construct, everything we make, wishes to be made in a consensual discussion with every body who’s warding off it; that we’re not building techniques meant to trick and shock folks into doing the proper factor, but that they’re in reality concerned in each step in instructing them, in view that each of those methods is academic.That is what i’m hopeful about, about even this relatively grim stuff, that if that you can take it and appear at it effectively, it’s genuinely in itself a section of education that allows you to start seeing how elaborate systems come collectively and work and perhaps be ready to apply that expertise elsewhere on the planet. HW: James, it is such an essential dialogue, and i do know many folks listed below are quite open and all set to have it, so thanks for opening off our morning.JB: Thanks very a lot. Cheers. (Applause) .

[dancindemetre]

23/10/18

Title: Warm Up and Showing

WARM-UP (Pictures above)

      For our warm-up, we did an exercise our professor called “Conveyor Belt”. This exercise was full of discovery, experimentation, and inspiration from colleagues. The class had a total of 11 of us and we were placed in parallel lines facing toward each other with 5 on each side. At the top, the last dancer would wait until it was time to rotate. One side of five would dance and the other side would watch and take pictures. Our professor Luis wanted us to experiment with music and not just music you hear day to day on the radio, it was different tempos, sounds, and ultimately quirky and different. The idea was for when Luis says “Rotate” to move to the next spot over creating a conveyor belt of creation and gave us time to dance and time to observe and be active watchers. I started out as the person waiting to rotate in at the top.

     The type of music Luis played sounded just like different noises jumble up and layered on top of one another. When doing warm-ups, I try to immerse myself into a place of deeper thinking about movement and experimentation. I wanted to place with levels and finding the pace of the music regardless of tempo changes and quirky sounds I’ve never heard before. When I rotated into the line of dancers I focused my breathing and moved slowly through low, medium, and high levels. I also focused on finding the heartbeat of music. Moving slow and finding my breath really helped me find that pace. It took a couple of rotations through the dancing line before I truly felt that I was at a point of finding new movements, paths, and concepts. When I finally rotated to the observer line it was both a chance to catch my breath and see other creative processes. With the way the rotation works, you don't get to have all 10 dancers in front of you to focus on. I tried to watch two dancers at a time as much as possible in order to gain more inspiration and ideas. Something I noticed when watching some of the dancers is being very frontal and on facing the front left and right. I took this in and applied it to my next round of dancing. Watching my colleagues was interesting to see their thinking process. Some move fast and others like to move slow and work through the movement. Everyone has a different style and approach to adapting to the music. Whether it be listening to the beat of the music or taking a concept and expanding on it, being an observer was fruitful.

     The second song that was played sounded like music used in old cartoons. It had ups, downs, and kept me on my toes. Again, I wanted to play with levels, finding the pace of the music, and change directions and find different pathways to and through those directions. Interestingly, with this music, I noticed I was moving in opposition. My impulse was to move my feet and legs to match the fast upbeat tempo while my upper half was focused on finding the slower tempo of the music. This music made me feel light and uplifting. I found myself making facial expressions when moving. I felt those as I put the music on as a persona and played the part that calls for the music. When observing I saw quirkier and different movements from my colleagues.  One concept I saw a dancer using was using the top of the head to lead direction and the rest of the body would complement and move with the head. It was an interesting concept to watch developed and keep expanding.

     The last and final song sounded like a soundtrack from Game of Thrones or from Medieval times. There were sounds of a blacksmith, instruments from the time, and vocals that sounded heavenly. When watching I also listen to the music to find a pace. I feel that I was able to complete this task best in this third round. One sound I heard that I felt kept the pace and was the sound of a blacksmith hitting metal with a hammer. This sound would go in and out but it was continuous through the whole piece of music. I decided to challenge myself and explore to find a movement I could continuously repeat and match this sound all while moving the rest of my body still exploring. The movement I discovered and decided to repeat was a continuous bend and straighten of the hand at the wrist. I kept the movement continues through the first 3 rotations of dancing and decided to switch hands for the fourth round and then use my feet to keep this motion of bending and straightening. I then rotated to be an observer and the exploration and movement of my colleagues continued to evolve and change. Many of the dancers moved at a slower pace as notes in this piece of music were sustained and were at a slower tempo. When moving slowly it gives you time to think and figure out what comes next. Before I became aware of it, I would always want to move fast and swift as it was exciting for me. I’ve learned that slowing down gives you time to think, expand, and explore. With this music tempo, I felt the class and myself were able to find an even deeper level of exploration.

Showing: “StIcK fIgUrEs”

Movement

        Breanna and I created an improvisation score last Friday during our lab. To just restate the objectives, were tasked with creating a stage using our outline (as well as the cut out), our sculptures, PVC pipes, and we had to turn the space into a whirlwind of energy.

        We each created 5 movements that were inspired by our outline and paper sculpture. These 5 movements are the pictures from the last post and I’m now going to go into the explanation of where my inspiration came from and the process of creation. My first movement was inspired by my paper sculpture. My paper sculpture has most of the paper concentrated in one column but it has one path out of this column and immediately returns. When creating my sculpture, I felt as though throughout life I would be distracted and lose focus of what my goals and aspirations are, but something always brings me back to my “home base”. My movement was a body roll starting from either the head or legs and the roll would cause an arm or leg expand out. This is the idea of my torso and legs being my home base and my arms and legs being me getting sidetracked.

      My second movement was inspired by the word “loaner” on my outline. The movement was my right hand swiping away toward the right, the left then copies to the left, then my hands come to the sides of my face and my hands and head move up down. I called this “Swipe, swipe, up, down”. I had the idea of pushing away people with the swiping and creating tunnel vision looking up and down to avoid eye contact.

     My third movement was inspired by the word “Mummy” on my outline. My movement was an overcross with my right leg reaching across to the left and my right arm mirroring. I then would trace to the right following through and walking on my right foot. I thought about my mom going above and beyond to take care of me. Going cross lateral and reaching where the body is uncomfortable I connected to my mover being in uncomfortable situations in order to take care of me. The tracing is my mother guiding me the correct way and continuing on my path.

     My fourth movement was inspired by the word “Perseverance” on my outline. I think about the idea of getting over a struggle and it sometimes being awkward. I put my palms together and had them placed vertically in front of my sternum. I then began it struggle up and over the pathway, ending in a crane looking shape.

      My final movement was inspired by the word “lone wolf” on my outline. The idea of being solo and not needed anyone’s help is where the movement is inspired from. Throughout each day of my life, I struggle with mood swings. Some days I’m a social butterfly and full of energy and other day locked up and not wanting to socialize. This idea of being alone even though there are people around to socialize with. The movement starts with the right arm being pulled back behind as if someone is grabbing my wrist or hand. My torso then turns to my right arm and I grab my wrist, pull, and turn in a full circle away from where I started.

Stage and Materials

        Each group was given another material to add to the showing. Breanna and I were specifically given 4 PVC pipes, a small one and the rest long and the same length. We had to include our outline, cut out, sculpture, and PVC pipes into our piece. When thinking of ways to turn the space into a place of energy, I had an idea of playing jump rope and using the small PVC pipe as a propeller and for Breanna to jump over. We also came up with the idea of attaching out outlines to two of the PVC pipes. We used tape and rubber bands to attach our outlines to the end of the PVC pipes. I then placed my outline in the center of the stage with the feet pointing downstage. We then placed the remaining PVC pipe splitting center stage with my outline on one side and the other side has no outline. We then decided to have our sculptures in opposition to each other. Mine was placed at the bottom left corner of my outline and Breanna’s was placed at the upper right corner of her space. We then placed the smaller PVC pipe horizontally at the base of the PVC pipe splitting the middle vertically.

Improve Score

        With Breanna’s and my movement, we created an improved structure or score to follow for our showing. We used our 10 movements as our vocabulary and created concepts that would give us room to explore and expand the concept.

        We first set the score for us starting upstage above out outlines, facing downstage. We are holding the PVC pipe with our outlines attached and begin establishing our movement vocabulary. Breanna was only allowed to use her 5 movements and the same rule for me. We made our way downstage moving there using our vocabulary and stopped with Breanna stage right and myself stage left facing each other, splitting center.

     We then switched poles and switch movement vocabularies as well. I was only allowed to do Breanna’s movements and she was allowed to do mine. We then progressively moved upstage to were we originally started using our different movement vocabularies. We then would meet upstage splitting center and exchange back to our original poles.

     We then played with the idea of the “fishing”. We used the PVC pipes as our pole and the outline as the bait. The goal was for us to fit my outline into the cutout. As we placed out outlines down we went to them and unfolded them and put them into place.

     I then walked to Breanna and stood on her left side. We used her knee push movement to travel on the diagonal downstage right. We I felt ready I began this game of tag with Breanna, tapping her playfully and running away and hiding. We played with running, stopping, and combining 2 to 4 movements from Breanna’s or my movement. We would go back and forth tagging each other and using movement vocabulary.

     To end the score, I would dolphin dive to reach the floor and grab the short PVC pipe. We would then end with Breanna jumping over the PVC pipe while I rotate it laying on my back.

Feedback

        After our showing the floor was opened for comments from our colleagues. The response was overall positive as they enjoyed it. Our professor Luis felt that playing tag was an easy way to transition to the ending. He suggested for us to experiment and find another way to transition into the ending.