#i need to listen to the entire thing again and take notes and also decode all the secret messages

[grimalditeuthis]

latest remnants ep

[loveofafangirl]

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field.  *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it. 

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N. 

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him. 

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed." 

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out. 

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble. 

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years." 

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch. 

65 hours. 

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower. 

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected. 

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true. 

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you. 

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips. 

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be. 

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead. 

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt. 

57 hours. 

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you. 

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you. 

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy." 

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks. 

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why. 

51 hours. 

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed. 

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you." 

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately. 

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic. 

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world. 

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for. 

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it. 

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand. 

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him. 

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?" 

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself. 

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too. 

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." 

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not." 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000​

[crumblestew]

Okay IDV tumblr let’s discuss...

HELEMARTHA

aka: Helena Adams x Martha Behamfil

This is singlehandedly my favourite idv ship, and the only one I actively think about at any point in time. And I have a few reasons for this!

First of all, I need to put it out there that I have my own very personal interpretation of Helena (I imagine her almost like Crowley from Good Omens in the way she speaks but not quite) regarding her deductions, which I will do a rundown of now to make things more clear.

“Uncontrollable: To become an unprecedented hero, you have to take on many roles which you will only perform once. Father's diary 3: Helena has good ears. I don't know why she would say that.”

“Seize the Moment: Weakness can also be turned into a weapon. I will turn you into a miracle, Helena. A miracle that will never again be replicated.”

1. This has often been interpreted as Helena’s tutor making Helena out to be deaf as well as blind, to create a spectacle of the blind deaf girl who can still navigate using her cane. This would also make sense given her real life inspiration, Helen Keller, was both deaf and blind. I agree with this analysis of it, including her father’s confusion evidenced by the deduction, and this ties directly into the next segment.

2. Helena was intended to be a ‘miracle’, and this deduction always sends a shiver down my spine just thinking about it. My headcanon from this, is that Sullivan became obsessed with the idea of this ‘miracle child’ she was tutoring, and quickly began to sell her to her own father as that. So enamoured by what she’d been made into, he stopped seeing her as her own person, and rather as a miracle. As the deduction states, one that can never again be replicated. This became a constantly draining pressure on Helena to be utterly perfect for the public, one she could not stand as she desperately worked towards a college education. This rightfully created a resentment towards her father and Sullivan, and I headcanon that she left for the manor without telling either of them personally, rather just leaving a note.

This leads us to...

Helena’s arrival at the manor!

When Helena arrives at the manor, the first person she meets is Freddy and they both instantly get off on the wrong foot. Every resident expects her to be soft spoken and quiet, but she is loud, angry, and incredibly assertive. Especially for the time period. This is something I have both deduced from her implied anger issues in another of her deductions (her father mentions her getting irritable and breaking toys), and from her belittling in my own backstory I explained further up. She despises Freddy because she thinks he is incredibly up himself just because he was the first decoder to arrive, and that that’s stupid of him. He in turn, disrespects her over her age, gender and disability, which is all heavily unappreciated by Helena for good reason. However, I am going off on a tangent and should probably get back to my point. If this does well I may do a full Helena headcanons explained one day.

Getting to the goddamn point: Martha

Helena dislikes a majority of her fellow residents of the manor at first, particularly Martha. Martha, the straight laced military girl who expects orders and rules to be followed drives Helena absolutely batshit! Their first match together, Helena gets to infuriated by constant instruction, not liking how Martha has just assigned herself team leader, and angrily turns off her headset so she doesn’t have to listen. Unfortunately, all this means is she can’t communicate with the team and she throws the match. She quickly becomes dreaded by the survivors, nobody wants the grump who hates teamwork and will throw a match based on who’s on her team. In her head, Helena has created a one sided rivalry between herself and Martha, which she holds up in every action of every day. Soon Martha begins to start playing along unintentionally and they have this constant back and forth rivalry between “furious ball of trauma repressed by anger” and “military captain who doesn’t want anyones bs”, much to the amusement and ire of the rest of the survivors. Helena is continuously determined to prove she is as good, if not better at Martha’s job, whilst Martha is tired out by what she simply sees as stupidity.

Here’s where the problems start

Helena just keeps getting more and more reckless, detention rescues, basement at 5 ciphers, actively taunting the Hunter, and eventually it all culminates in one match where everything goes wrong. Helena had, as usual, been giving it way more than she needs to, and Mary was well and truly sick of her cheek. She grabbed her cane and whacked her as hard as she could, sending her flying into a wall and knocking her out entirely. Martha has to carry her out of the gate and she is immediately admitted into the medical ward. After this, a form of mutual respect is established between the two that eases the tension whilst still keeping their dynamic.

Eventually

They begin to actually get closer and one night Helena “borrows” a bottle of Dovlin and Martha decides to join her, after all it sounds fun and she doesn’t have to be totally uptight all the time! Helena begins on a drunken rant about how annoying Martha is as it slowly develops more and more into complimenting her (think along the lines of “you’re annoyingly good at ____”) and it eventually develops into a confession Helena didn’t even know was coming. They wake up the next day curled up into each other on top of Helena’s bed and come to terms with how they feel about the other. Everyone is utterly relieved when they finally get together, Tracy, Naib and Luca in particular saw it coming.

Dynamic!

My main love for this ship comes from the dynamic. I hate how babied Helena is by the fandom, and I believe Martha would come to respect her in her own right as a worthy soldier. She would treat Helena as a normal human, which would at first annoy Helena but would also totally relieve her. She doesn’t have to be a miracle anymore, she just has to be herself for Martha. Because herself is enough.

Wow this was long. Helemartha fans pls interact!

[word-scribbless]

Smile Again Part 10

It’s a long one but one of my favorites!

Masterlist | Smile Again Masterlist

Things get a little angsts! But lots of cute too

——————————

About 2 weeks after Y/N and Aaron’s first date the team caught a local case that baffled them all. The Unsub was killing women and leaving notes on their bodies. He was also sending threats to their families. The interesting thing was he was using several languages at once to create a whole new language to write them in. Some of the languages, not even Reid knew and reworking the whole thing would take a very long time.

“Reid can you make any of this out?” Emily said looking at a letter the unsub left at the scene.

“I’m good but I’m not that good, I could work on decoding it but it’ll take me a hours to even figure out the languages used.” He replied.

“We need you in the field, and we don’t have hours.” Hotch said. He knew Reid could do it, but they couldn’t be a man down.

“It’s local, there are tons of colleges around maybe we can find an expert to assist Reid and figure this out.” Morgan added.

“Reid do you know anyone?” Rossi asked, Reid began to think before JJ cut in.

“Uh Hotch I know someone... but you’re not going to like it”

“Who?” Hotch asked. He suddenly had a gut feeling he really wasn’t going to like her suggestion, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Y/N” JJ said, nervously looking at her boss.

“Y/N? Like my-our-your Y/N?” He stumbled out.

“Yeah, our Y/N.” JJ chuckled at how flustered her cousin made her boss. “She’s spent her whole life since age 13 studying languages and what makes them up.” She continued.

“13? Is she a kid genius like pretty boy over here?” Morgan asked, patting Reid on the back.

“I mean she didn’t graduate early, she’s just always been interested in languages.” JJ answered, still keeping an eye on Hotch’s reaction.

He clearly wasn’t excited about the idea of her being involved, but was trying to hid his emotions. He knew she was brilliant and had heard her speak several languages, most of the time just to entertain Jack. He also liked to watch her work when she would bring the books she was translating to movie nights if she was near a deadline. He couldn’t deny working with her would be interesting to say the least, but he really didn’t want her near the types of people they saw. Like usual, JJ saw straight through him and gave him an apologetic, but pleading look.

“You think she could work this language out?” Rossi asked interrupting the two agent’s eye contact.

“I mean she once wrote half a thesis in a made up language to prove her theory on how our brains intupret and learn languages.” Jj shared with a proud smile.

“That’s genius” Reid said.

“Plus, I happen to know she passed a field agent test not that long ago to help out a local department in PA that sex crimes was helping with.” She added quietly.

“Really?” Morgan asked.

Hotch froze and JJ began to explain how even though she didn’t go in the field again after swat, she has volunteered to assist on a few cases with local PDs and the FBI office, but to do that she still had to test and prove she was capable for anything. Hotch knew she was capable of anything at all, but he didn’t want her to have to be in any situation to use those skills.

“I don’t want her in the field.” Hotch said with a strict tone, cutting off the other agents chatter. ‘Hell I don’t want her involved at all’, he thought, but he knew he couldn’t make that decision for her.

“So is that a yes?” Emily asked.

“It’s an I will ask her” Hotch grumbled

Rossi follows behind him as he stomps up to his office to reluctantly call his girlfriend. He loved how brilliant and kind she was. However right now he was cursing that two of his favorite things about her were what made him have to call and ask her to put herself in danger.

“Why doesn’t JJ ask?” Rossi asked with a smirk,following him up the stairs.

“Cause Y/N’ll feel inclined to say yes.” Hotch grumbled.

“And she won’t with you?” The older agent wondered.

“I’m hoping she’ll be inclined to say no to me”

“Have you seen the way she looks at you, I don’t think she ever wants to say no.” Rossi smiled.

“Dave” Aaron warned

“You know I’m right... because you’re even worse.” Dave said causing Hotch to roll his eyes and walk into his office.

Hotch picked up his cell phone to call Y/N, really wishing he didn’t have to, but their case really needed it.

“Y/L/N” she answered. He smiled, she must have been in the middle of work. Answering that way when busy was a side effect of her years in law enforcement.

“You sound so official, should I call back later Ms Y/L/N?” He chuckled. Hearing her voice made his nerves vanish,until he remembered why he was calling.

“Hey you!” She said, voice perking up. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine.” He answered but she could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful by the tone of his voice.

“What’s wrong Aaron?” She asked, fully stopping her work to listen.

“Before I ask this promise me you’ll think about it and not automatically say yes.” He prefaced.

“Oookay” she said skeptically, urging him to continue.

She heard him take a deep breath and sigh.

He dove in to explaining the case and the reason they needed help. He again explaining that she could say no, or even suggest someone else that could help. She listened intently and thought about it even though she knew her answer.

“Of course I’ll help” she said when he finally stopped his explanation.

“Y/N you do not have to do this.” He explained again.

“You want me to say no.” It was a statement not a question and her tone made him wince. He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t think she was right for the job or that she couldn’t take care of herself. He just really didn’t want her near danger.

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated” he sighed.

“I don’t Aaron, I want to help! But just linguistics no tech stuff.” She tried to joke but he knew the seriousness of that statement.

“Deal, you won’t be anywhere near the field if I have anything to do with it.” He chuckled lightly but just like him, she knew how serious he was.

“Did JJ make that rule?” She tried to joke but became more worried when instead of his usual chuckle he just huffed.

“I think your cousin would have you leading the team of I let her.” He said and she caught his irritated tone.

“Aaron what’s wrong?” She asked, not wanting to end the call and agree if he was going to be upset.

“I didn’t want you wrapped up in this.” He practically whispered and it made her heart hurt.

“If you don’t want me to help-“ she began before he cut her off.

“That’s not it Y/N, I’m sort of excited to work with you.” He admitted, making her smile before he sighed, “I just don’t want you hurt.”

“I’ve got you and Jayje and the team to protect me, baby. Plus I’m a badass remember?” She assured him and he couldn’t deny how much he loved the way the pet name sounded from her lips.

“Promise you’ll be safe for me?” He asked

“Yes, do you promise?”

“Always am, for you and jack”

“I know,” she said softly, before continuing with a smirk “So you’re excited to work with me?”

“Mmm it’s really sexy to see you in action.” He admitted in a low husky voice she loved.

There was no shortage of making out and boarder line groaping during their last couple movie nights after jack went to bed but they hadn’t gone past that since the first time. She absolutely loved hearing him talk like this.

“Oh yeah?” She asked and heard him grunt. “The language or the ass kicking?”

“Mmm both, but hearing you speak in other languages, god I don’t know what you’re saying but i love it.”

“ mm buono a sapersi bello” she hummed and heard his breath hitch.

“Be careful with that baby, I’m at work.” He purred

“Mm well after the case I’ll have to explore your love of my work some more.”

“Please do” he cleared his throat then and she laughed

“Oh buniness Hotch is back! Should I head in to the BAU now?”

“Yeah I can send someone to get you.”

“Unless it’s you I can handle getting there.” She laughed as she heard him cough again.

“I’ll see you soon, have Garcia email me all the evidence that’s in his ‘language’ so I can start working on it on the train?”

“Will do, I’ll also remind her not to get to used to you working with her.”

“I’d be too much of a distraction for you boss man.

“Bye y/n”

“See you soon Aaron.”

“So she’s in?” JJ smiled and asked when Hotch renterd the bullpen.

“Yeah” he grumbled “We keep her safe and out of the field.”

The team all nodded and JJ cheered quietly about getting to work with her cousin. Hotch chuckled at JJ’s antics and hid his own excitement about working with Y/N.

Hotch gave instructions of where to got, y/n would meet them at the BAU where read was doing the geo-profile and after JJ and Hotch met with local pd they’d come back and brief her.

In the car JJ could feel Hotch’s anxiety. She knew it wasn’t about the case, rather the idea of Y/N helping with the case.she felt guilty for suggesting something that caused him so much stress, but she knew her cousin could handle it.

“Hotch I’m sorry if I put you in a shitty situation suggesting Y/N.” She watched him tense even lore at her words. “But my cousin is a super hero, she can do anything and I trust her with my life, and our teams lives. Trust me when I say I’d never have suggested her if I thought she couldn’t handle it.”

“I know that, and I trust her too but Jack and I can’t lose her.” He admitted, surprising himself and JJ. Truth was, he couldn’t keep much of anything from the blonde agent even if he tried.

“Are we okay?”

“Yeah Jennifer, we’re okay. I can’t very well stay mad at the person who introduced Y/N Y/L/N into my life can I?

They both chuckled and felt the tension ease just a bit.

Y/N set up a little space for her to work in the conference room and set to work. She knew she shouldn’t be having fun during a murder investigation, but she couldn’t deny she loved this kind of work.

Derek has nicknamed her and Reid the nerd squad, after he walked in on them spewing theories and slaw itching between languages in a way no ‘normal human’ would comprehend. Hotch couldn’t help but stop and watch Y/N work for a moment when he and JJ got back with the lead detective.

He was snapped out of his trance by Rossi making a vaguely inappropriate comment about the ‘true reason’ he didn’t want y/m on the case. The sputtering cough he did in response to that comment caused his girlfriend’s beautiful eyes to snap up and lock with his.

She smiled widely at him and began to explain the progress they had made to him and the detective. He couldn’t help but love her even more for the way she was so professional, yet still somehow made him feel noticed by her.

Aaron thanked her and explained to all in the room their next steps. He left Y/N to it and called Reid to follow them to go check out a lead. Y/N suddenly felt a flash of anxiety listening to Aaron talk about breaching the house if they had to. He didn’t miss the look on her face and told the team he’d meet them at the SUVs.

“Hey, I’ll be fine” he whispered moving closer to her. He knew it was risky but pulled her into his arms anyway. Kissing her head and then quickly pulling back.

“I did t think it’d scare me this much, I mean I know what you do but being here and hearing it all... what if you don’t come back? What if I have to watch-“ she started to break and he took her hand.

“Y/N I won’t let that happen! I WILL come back to you”

She nodded and squeezed his hand

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart, JJ had to talk me off the same ledge in the suv.” This caused her to giggle and calm down a bit.

“Get going boss man, be safe.”

“Anything for you” he smiled and headed off.

Y/N moved her operation down to be with Garcia I case they needed help with the language, but mostly because she didn’t want to be alone. The lead was a dead end so the team headed back and were working on the profile again when Y/N decoded a journal entry that talked about an abandoned warehouse that he used to frequent when he was homeless.

“Let’s go, Garcia stay online, Reid-“

“Hotch Y/N should probably ride along.” Rossi just got out before Aaron boomed “NO”.

Y/N looked just as startled by the idea as Aaron.

“Hotch she needs to be with us decoding the journal in case there is a new location, or he starts talking in his language.”

“I told you, she doesn’t go in the field” y/N could feel the anger radiating off of him, she saw JJ thinking about how to calm him down.

“Hey”, she whispered to Aaron, pulling him to the side, she locked eyes with Rossi who immediately understood and began to lead the team to the cars.

“Don’t worry you d-“ he started before she cut him off.

“I’m going to come with you.” She said and braced herself for his reaction.

“NO Y/N.” He said steadily but still gentle as he always was with her.

“I will be so careful, I won’t go anywhere near the scene. You need me Aaron”

“Yeah I do need you, alive.”

She felt her heart clench at his words and stroked his cheek, “I will be safe, please trust me.”

“I do!”

“I know, so remember that, you’ll be right there, so will JJ.”

“What if I can’t protect you?”

“Sweetheart, I just want to catch this guy, so I can spend time with my favorite boys! I’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

She nodded and pulled him along to the cats.

“Dave was right...” he huffed

She looked at him to explain and he continued.

“I can’t say no to you”

She smirked and responded “I’ll have to remember that.

When they pulled up to the scene y/n pushed down the fear and memories of the case that changed her whole life and took her husband. If she was going to do this. She locked eyes with Aaron in the rear view mirror and smiled when he sent her a sweet wink.

That was the last moment of calm before all hell broke loose. The unsub was in the warehouse holding a woman hostage. Hotch broke all his rules and kissed Y/N lightly before putting on his vest to assure her he’d be okay. He left her in the safety of the SUV as he went to the staging area.

After about 15 minutes the unsub began to lose it even more.

“Hotch he’s speaking the language we have to send Y/N in.” Reid said, earning him a nasty glare from his boss.

“Not a chance. We’ll just wire someone.” Hotch responded.

“He’ll know” JJ said with a defeated tone herself. He knew she didn’t want her cousin to go in either but they had no choice.

“Fine” he sighed “but I go with her.”

“You’re too intimidating I’ll go.” Jj countered

“Jj you keep her safe.” He sternly whispered as they ent to brief Y/N.

“Hotch I know you love her but so do I, I’d do anything to protect her.” She said quickly before they reached you

“Jj I-“

“Don’t try to deny it Hotch, I know you haven’t told her yet but I know it’s true.” Hotch flushes a bit.

“I know you’d do anything to protect her JJ, I just, I can’t lose her and I hate putting her in this position even though I know she can handle it.” He admitted and knew JJ understood.

They briefed Y/N and after a brief moment of panic Y/N assured them both she could to it. She put on a vest and they entered the building.

Everything was going well, Y/N was speaking to him in his language, she was doing everything by right. That was until the hostage began to yell and insult him. He shoved the victim towards Y/N sending them both fattening down a flight of steps.

Jj secured the unsubscribe and cleared the team to come in. She hadn’t looked over towards her cousin yet but could tell the victim was fine.

She rushed down the stairs to see her cousin laying unconscious with a gash to the head.

“No no no” Jj said taking her hand as

took team came in and Rossi began to move the unsub to the SUVs

“Y/n!” Hotch wailed. Running to Y/N’s limo figure.

“Hotch I’m sorry Jj said, but Hotch couldn’t hear anything as he rushed to Y/N’s side, grasping her hand in his.

“Y/N please”

“Hm hi handsome” she said opening her eyes and groaning as she held her head. It took her a bit to realize what was happening, but the smell of the old warehouse brought most of the recent events back. “Don’t look so worried you two, I’m alive.” She said with a weak smile

“I’m going to get the medic” JJ said before kissing her cousins head and running off.

“Aaron I kn-“ she began

“I love you” he cut her off

“What?” Yn breathes

“I’m in love with you, I know it’s crap timing and you probably have a concussion but god I don’t want to waste anymore time with out you knowing I love you.”

“I love you too Aaron.”

He held her face and kissed her soundly. Pulling away when he heard Rossi wolf whistle behind them.

“I guess they all know now, sorry I know you like to be secretive.”

“they’ve known how I’ve felt longer than I did. Plus I don’t plan on keeping you a secret y/n ever.

He was insanely happy he finally told her how he felt and got to hear that she loved him too. Now he had to face JJ knowing he let her cousin get hurt.

Outside with the medics JJ was terrified to face her boss knowing she let Y/N get hurt. She was holding back tears that she could have lost her best friend.

Y/N was just happy to be loved by Aaron and JJ, and to be alive she was happy about that too. And dizzy she was also dizzy.

Smile again tag list:

@thebadassbitchqueen @violetclifford @kyleetheeditor @thelostallycat @mac99martin @stop-drop-and-drumroll

Tag list:

@diesinspanishbcimhispanic @averyhotchner

[trainsinanime]

Okay, I promised, so let’s talk about NFTs, Non-Fungible Tokens, just for fun. What they are, what can they do, and why do so many people say you should or shouldn’t participate in them. I’m trying to provide a mid-level overview here: All the moving parts so you actually know how it works, but not too much detail. Let me know whether this works.

Blockchain

To start with, the whole thing revolves around the idea known as blockchain. A blockchain is long shared list of messages that follow certain rules, and a computer network that manages it. The messages are signed, which means you can use maths to prove that a certain message is really from a certain user (or someone who knows their password anyway), without any central authority. In the first and still most important blockchain, Bitcoin, the only message type is a transaction of the form „transfer X amount of money to user Y“.

These transactions get added to the shared list in larger packets, so-called blocks, and they get added one after the other, forming a chain of blocks if you will. That’s where the name comes from.

(Note that despite the name, there is no coin of bits anywhere, it's all just bank transfers. This system is known as a "cryptocurrency".)

Before a message gets added to a block, and before the network accepts a new block, it gets checked to see whether it matches the rules. For Bitcoin, the important rule is that nobody spends money they don't have. All the complicated parts of Bitcoin and other blockchains exist to enforce these rules even without any central authority managing it.

The energy problem

This following part is not directly relevant to how NFTs work, it's technically just an implementation detail. But one of the main talking points is the energy consumption, and this is where it comes from.

Since the network is decentralized, anyone can collect new messages into a new block at any time, and tell other computers about the great new block they just greated. That means there can often be multiple new blocks, and there's a question of which one is the "true" one. The general rule here is simple: Every block lists which block is the one right before it, forming essentially its own chain. The longest of these chains wins. The idea is that there may be some confusion in the short term, but in the long term, everybody can just see what the longest chain is.

There is a potential risk here, though: Suppose someone buys something with some bitcoin. The payment gets added to the list, the product gets delivered, everything is fine. And then this person suddenly reveals fifty new blocks they created in secret, and none of them include the payment. Since this is the longest chain, suddenly this one is valid. The original payment never happened, and the attacker has both their money and the goods.

To avoid this, there is a so-called proof of work mechanism: Creating a new block is made deliberately very hard. You not only have to collect the messages and check them; you also have to make up a random number, then do a lot of calculations on the whole block, and only if the result is below a certain number is the block valid. If the result is too high, which is very likely, you need to guess a different random number and do the calculations again, and you need to do that a lot.

The express purpose of this is to make it slow, difficult and annoying to create new blocks, so that nobody can do so just for fun; instead it takes actual work in the form of a powerful computer (or many powerful computers) spending a lot of time computing. And that means they will also spend a lot of energy doing this computing. That's where all the CO2 emissions are coming from. The amount of electricity needed by Blockchains right now is scary, and a good reason to avoid anything to do with them at all.

To ensure people still do these calculations, there are rewards for whoever creates a valid block first: Some bitcoin handed out automatically; plus, all transactions can (and in practice will) include a field saying „and also pay amount Z to whoever puts this in a block on the blockchain“. This whole process is called "mining".

NFTs

Some specific blockchains allow you to define your own types of messages with their own rules in the form of computer code. The rest of the network will see a message, see which rule sets applies, then see what rules apply, and use those rules to verify the message.  Such a set of messages and rules is called a „smart contract“. This is mainly a thing on the network called "Etherium", and this is where these non-fungible tokens come into play.

On Etherium, you can define a smart contract with messages like:

„Hey guys, I own whatever is at this link here:“

And later:

„Hey guys, remember that link I said I owned? Now this guy <X> owns it.“

You can send as many of those as you like. You will still need to pay transaction fees, of course.

That link (or some more-or-less random string of digits) is the non-fungible token that everybody talks about. Unlike money, you can’t swap it for a different one, or divide it or similar, because, well, you set up the rules so that you can’t. That’s what the „non-fungible“ part means. But that is all there is to it: A distributed list of messages saying „this person owns that link now“.

By the way, I’m mostly talking about art and digital pictures here, because that’s what the main discussion is about, but proponents of NFTs are also saying they could be used for tickets for big public events (remember those?), land deeds and so on. Which is technically true, but it’s unclear whether they are adding any value here, but that’s a whole other tangent.

This token has no legal consequence in itself. It’s just something someone wrote in a list. You can certainly agree with someone that you’re both going to honor whatever is in that list, but that’s something that you’ll have to do explicitly, ideally in offline writing.

The systems can be a bit more complex; for example you might add a message that is „give this link from X to Y, and this amount of money from Y to X“, signed by both X and Y. You can also include a rule that „every time someone else gets ownership that link, the first person needs to get some money, else the message isn’t valid“. NFT fans are very excited about this one. The idea is that the artist gets paid every time the NFT is resold. Still, the basic principle stays the same.

(In practice, the link is usually not directly to the JPEG file in question, but rather to a file describing the file, which includes a link to the file in question. There is nothing in the system that automatically makes sure both links will actually keep working; that part is up to you. There are solutions, but it’s not automatic.)

Digital Original

When talking about this, people will talk about concepts like „digital scarcity“ and „original“ and „authenticity in a digital age“ and so on. So there are a lot of relevant questions, for example:

How does the system ensure that only the original author can claim ownership over a certain link („mint an NFT“)?

How does it ensure that you can only claim a certain file once, instead of several times slightly altered?

How does it ensure that a file is only traded on one smart contract, instead of many different ones with different rules and different owners?

The answer to these question is simple: There is nothing ensuring any of that. Is is just as easy to claim ownership over a file that someone else made as it is to claim ownership over a file you made. And no part of the system actually looks at the file itself; it’s just a link or an identifier. Fraud is easy and common. I’m not even entirely sure whether it technically counts as fraud, since these NFTs are legally meaningless, but you should probably ask a lawyer first if you’re planning to do something like this.

That way, NFTs are arguably ignoring the question that they claim is the whole point. What does „original“ even mean with things like digital art? Arguably the closest thing to an original is the representation in the artist’s computer memory. If it gets saved to a disk, that’s a copy. If it gets transferred to a server, the server holds a copy in its RAM, then copies it to its disk, then later copies its to its RAM again, and then whoever looks at it online downloads a copy, and probably decodes that copy (in JPEG format) into another copy that the screen can actually show… it’s all a big mess of copies. NFT’s solutions to that is to just say „this here’s the original because I said so“, and hope that enough people listen and pay money for it.

The economics

Does this really represent a new opportunity for artists? Well, maybe; there are a lot of crypto bros right now spending money on NFTs simply because it’s cool. Whether owning an NFT of something has any long-term value, let alone whether that value goes up over time, is something that remains to be seen.

You will find a lot of people arguing that it’s a scam, or a money laundering scheme, and honestly, it might be. You can’t exactly pay a lot of things with cryptocurrency right now, so everybody who has some needs to find someone to trade real money for it if they want to do anything useful. The NFT hype can definitely lead to more people buying cryptocurrency to participate in it all, which helps mostly those people who have a lot of it. I don’t think NFTs are an illegal scam, but obviously that’s not the same as a good idea.

Suggestions

I’m not an artist, so I don’t think I’m the most qualified to give suggestions here. But I don’t see why I should let that stop me.

Should you get involved with NFTs? That’s honestly up to you. If somebody offers you money (ideally actual cash) for you to create a picture that they’re gonna do an NFT of, I’d say consider it. The environmental impact is really that bad, but hey, it’s money.

If anybody is asking you to first buy some cryptocurrency to participate, though? Better run.

At the end of the day, whether people value the work of artists is sadly down to their personal opinions. Whether NFT will change that is, at best, a long shot. If you have people who are willing to pay for your work, having them pay you directly through commissions or Patreon or whatever seems like the best bet to me, because there’s no massive environmental impact and you’re not tied to volatile cryptocurrency exchange rates.

And if you’re interested in buying NFTs: I wouldn’t, but it’s your money. Just be aware of what it actually is you’re buying.

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 3: 2,689 Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler’s words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision’s mind.

Chapter 3: it’s a beautiful new day

Edwin hates hospital waiting rooms.

He has a huge respect for the hospitals themselves, of course. It’s the actual experience of sitting in the waiting room that sends a chill down his spine.

It’s not the first time he’s been in this position; stuck in a chair with worry crushing him. Although Mr Stark prefers to call his private doctor when he falls ill, and Edwin also occasionally uses his services, Ana much prefers to physically visit the doctor. She says that it makes her feel like they’re an ordinary couple in the life they don’t have. And Edwin respects her decision.

What he doesn’t tell her is that each time he is asked to wait outside, he is transported back to that horrifying night in 1947. His whole body is shaking. The world around him is all too loud but also alarmingly quiet. His mind is completely overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. Ana is in surgery with a terrible wound, possibly on the brink of death, and he is just sitting outside in the hospital waiting room, utterly helpless. The only thing on his mind is that it’s all his fault.

Then Miss Carter is by his side, offering much-needed wordless support.

But this early morning, he is desperately trying to convince himself that Ana is perfectly fine. She has simply gone inside the room to offer support to Mrs Stark. He can hear her unusually loud voice trying to overpower Maria’s agonised screams as she calls out for Howard, despite him being on the other side of the world.

It pains him to think that this is typical of him.

“Mr Jarvis!”

The familiar click of heels alerts him to Ms Carter’s arrival. She, like all of them, looks appropriately dishevelled as she rushes towards him. “How is she? How’s it going?”

Extremely grateful to her for pulling him out of his dark thoughts in a waiting room for a second time, Edwin gestures for her to take the seat beside him. There is a sense of déjà vu.

He takes a moment to listen out for Maria’s screams, which seem to have subsided.

“I believe it’s going well.” He responds. “Ana’s inside with her now, and this is the first time it’s been quiet since we arrived. I can only think of two options as to what that could mean.”

Ms Carter lets out a strained chuckle. “Since when have you been such a pessimist, Mr Jarvis?”

Since Ana was shot and lost the ability to bear children.

She seems to read his mind and her face falls quite suddenly. She is wise to not address this though, and she decides to change the subject instead.

“Have they thought of any names yet?”

Another welcome distraction. “Maria’s quite insistent on either Antonio or Isabella, depending on the gender. They got into an argument when Mr Stark wanted the name to be American.”

“Where is Howard, anyway?”

Edwin isn’t quite sure why his chest tightens. It almost feels like anger or hatred, but not quite. More like… disappointment. “He’s currently in Amsterdam trying to settle a trade deal.”

The expression on Peggy’s face perfectly reflects his own thoughts on the matter. She scoffs. “Oh, typical Howard.”

There is a strange kindred spirit shared between himself and Ms Carter, which is odd considering that their personalities could not be more different. She is everything he isn’t; strong-willed, professional, courageous, and incredibly intelligent. She could stop a global threat in the time that it takes him to plan a dinner party. She would much rather spend an evening engaging herself decoding classified secrets whereas he would watch some television with his wife.

And yet, despite their obvious differences, they completely understood one another. Peggy often needs a break from S.H.I.E.L.D. and her busy lifestyle, which is why the Jarvis household is open to her at all times should she need it. It’s also why she comes for dinner each Sunday evening without fail. And if he is ever feeling under the weather or is having any manner of internal struggle, she picks up on it just as quickly as Ana does and checks in on him an embarrassingly large number of times until she’s convinced that he’s feeling better. Ana once described the pair as two sides of the same coin.

Edwin feels blessed to have possibly the two best women in the entire world in his life.

He is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by Ana rushing out of Maria’s room.

Both he and Ms Carter immediately stand up. “Is she alright?” They ask simultaneously.

Ana’s hair has come loose and her eyes betray her weariness, but they are also filled with joy. “She’s fine.” She announces with a wide smile. “It’s a beautiful baby boy.”

Peggy exhales loudly with relief, and she begins to mirror Ana’s smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful! May we go inside?”

Ana falters for a brief moment. “Ah, I will have to ask Mrs Stark. I did not know you were coming, so I will ask her.” She turns to her husband. “She is asking for you, Edwin, so you can come.”

There is silence until Peggy turns to him. “Mr Jarvis?”

Edwin is frozen. It feels as if the world has stopped spinning. Mrs Stark has just had a son. A boy. A son. A child. And she is fine, and he is fine, and she’s just had a son. A brand new life.

Ana grabs his arm and starts to pull him towards the door, and only then does he snap back to reality and feels himself breathe again. As they wait for the pack of nurses to finish leaving the room, Edwin bends down to whisper into his wife’s ear the one word that has suddenly branded itself into his mind.

“Anthony.”

When they are finally let into the room, his whole body melts. All the exhaustion, anger, and sadness from last night is washed away at the sight of the little bundle in Maria’s arms. Ana senses his awe and entwines her hand with his as she leads him closer to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” He breathes.

Maria is almost unrecognisable in this state. Her hair is the messiest he’s ever seen, and she is drenched in sweat. In any other circumstance she would be furious and desperately attempt to fix herself up. But right now, she has the warmest smile on her face.

“Tired, Mr Jarvis.” She answers, her voice slurred with exhaustion and her Italian accent shining through.

She looks down at the baby in her arms, and his own eyes follow. There is a tiny mop of dark hair visible over the blanket, but he can’t see much else very clearly.

Maria seems to notice his gaze. “Do you want to hold him?”

Yes, he does want to hold him. He wants to hold him and cradle him in his arms and talk to him and cuddle him and raise him.

But he can’t seem to get the words out. Ana answers for him. “Yes, he does.”

The second that Maria hands him the child, Edwin feels warmth rush into his body. The child is awake but not crying, and he knows he will do everything in his power to keep it that way. Distantly, he hears Ana ask Maria if Ms Carter can enter, before she also instructs her to sleep. He is too busy gently rocking the child to hear the precise words spoken.

“Hello there,” he whispers, a tear rolling down his cheek, “welcome to the world, little one. You are going to grow up and be strong, smart, kind, beautiful…”

His list goes on, and he is unaware of how sadly both Ana and Peggy are looking at him.

~-.-~

Mr Stark leaps out of the car before Edwin finishes parking.

He can’t blame him. He is about to meet his son for the first time, albeit a day late, so of course he’d be in a hurry.

Edwin locks the car and rushes to follow Howard.

On the journey from the airport, Mr Stark had done nothing but chatter about this that and the other. Anecdotes from his trip, celebrity scandals, new groundbreaking ideas. He managed to talk about every topic apart from his wife and son.

An outsider may think that he was being heartless, but Edwin knows Howard well enough to know that the genius was beyond nervous and his family was actually the only thing on his mind.

Once he nears Maria’s room, he can hear the sound of raised voices coming from inside. His heart sinks. He had been positive that Mr Stark would be happy upon seeing his son but, although he cannot hear the exact words being said, it sounds like something has upset him.

Bracing himself for the worst, he lightly knocks before entering.

“I promise you Howard, that’s what I said- Edwin!”

“Edwin!”

Edwin is not at all frightened by the way both Howard and Maria’s heads instantly snap towards him as they call him by his first name. Not in the slightest. It is perfectly reasonable for them to do so and is not unusual at all.

He recovers from this initial shock to note that little baby Anthony is in his father’s arms. This immediately fills him with relief as whatever the couple were arguing about didn’t seem to involve the newborn.

With that option eliminated, his curiosity begins to grow. “Is everything alright?” He asks.

Maria sinks further into her pillow and Howard hangs his head, bringing Anthony closer to his chest. It is a concerning visual, even more concerning when Mrs Stark looks back to her husband, ignoring his question entirely.

“And you’re sure it’s too late?”

Wearily raising his head, Howard answers. “I did most of the paperwork over there. The announcement’s been made- it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Edwin inquires, dread pooling into his stomach. He sincerely hopes that whatever the situation is isn’t too bad.

The pair turn to acknowledge him for the first time since their initial outburst. Both of their faces seem… guilty?

Howard shuffles towards him, being very mindful of the baby in his arms. “So you know Anthony’s name, right?”

Edwin nods nervously.

“Well, there’s been a mix up.” Howard continues, his face sheepish.

“An accident.” Maria interjects. “I was exhausted, my accent was thicker than normal, and they misheard me.”

This only makes Edwin all the more worried.

Without warning, Anthony begins to wail, and Edwin instinctively holds his arms out for Mr Stark to pass the child to him. He starts to cradle him to shush him.

Howard rubs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. “Anthony Edward Stark was supposed to be Anthony Edwin Stark.”

And if human nature hadn’t prevented him from doing so, Edwin would have dropped the baby.

He must have heard incorrectly. “P-Pardon?”

It is Maria who answers him, her expression apologetic. “We discussed this a while ago. Because we know that you and your wife can’t… have children,” Edwin bites his lip to try and prevent the tears from forming in his eyes, “and you both have been nothing but kind to us, we wanted to name our child after you. His middle name was supposed to be Edwin if he was a boy, and Ana if he was a girl.”

“But I fucked that up, too.” Mr Stark adds, but Maria just tuts at him.

“Language, Howard. We have a son now. The nurse misheard, and there is nothing we can do about it now.”

“‘Course, sorry.” Howard apologises. Then he lets out a small, pathetic laugh and a wide smile begins to grow on his face. He takes Anthony from Edwin’s arms and stares at him with an amount of adoration that is uncharacteristic for the great Howard Stark.

The same Howard Stark whose bottom lip began to tremble. Whose eyes begin to shimmer with tears. Who struggles to keep his voice even as he leans down to plant a tender kiss on his son’s forehead.

“You...” he whispers, “are hands down the best thing I have ever created, little man. You’re beautiful. God, I love you.” He turns to Edwin again, pride radiating off his face as he holds the child in front of him. “Look at my son, Jarvis! Look at him! I have a son!”

Edwin, who has been trembling all this time, matches the adoration on his employer’s face as he nods in response to the command. His mind, however, is elsewhere.

They were going to name him Edwin. The Edward mishap does not bother him in the slightest as it is the thought that counts but… they were going to name their son Edwin.

And standing there, even in front of Anthony Edward Stark’s parents, Edwin feels like a father.

~-.-~

“Shush now Anthony, your Mama will be here soon once she’s finished her very important meeting, alright? Please, shush now.”

Anthony has been wailing for the past ten minutes. And, for the past nine minutes, Edwin has been trying to calm him down. The only problem is that the only thing that will currently soothe him is Edwin’s own tie, which he very much needs and is not willing to part with. Ana made him that one.

“Awamaaaaa! Mamaaaaa!”

The ten-month old pulls himself up so that he is just-about standing in his crib with one chubby arm sticking out, trying to reach him. He has just learnt to stand, and although it makes him happy each time he accomplishes it, the fact that he has started to stand in defiance is the bane of Edwin’s existence.

With a weary sigh, he turns back from where he was about to leave and slowly crouches down so that his eyes level with Anthony’s.

“Anthony darling, your Mama will be here soon.”

“Awamamaa!”

‘Mama’ is Anthony’s first and only word, one that he’s learnt only recently. One of the maids had first heard the little boy chanting it, and had hurried to get Edwin. Edwin then commanded her to go and fetch Maria and Howard. Maria had come rushing in, but Howard had claimed to be busy.

His heart shattering at the sound of the boy’s cries, Edwin tries again. “I promise Mama’s coming.”

Anthony’s screams take on a sudden increase in volume that causes Edwin to wince.

“Waaaaaaaaah! Awamamaja! Awajaja!”

Now Edwin is by no means a young man anymore, and he convinces himself that whatever he thought he just heard was simply a trick of his imagination. Nothing more. He definitely did not just try and call out his-

“Jaja! Jaja!”

Paired with the wide brown eyes staring up at him and the arm outstretched trying to grab his tie, this time the child’s intent was unmistakable.

In his shock, Edwin says the only thing he can think of. “S-Say that again?”

“Jaja!”

“Are you trying to say… ‘Jarvis’?”

“Jaja!”

“Oh my goodness!”

Although the ‘J’ syllable wasn’t quite as clipped as it should be (sounding more like a ‘sh’) it was recognisable enough. And to say Edwin feels emotional at the fact that Anthony said his name would be an understatement.

In this time Anthony had stopped crying and instead is looking at him expectantly, as if he knew exactly what effect his words would have on him and is waiting for his reward. Edwin takes off his tie and hands it to the boy without a second thought.

He has to tell Ana. There is no time to lose. He has to bring Ana and try and get Anthony to say it again as proof that his second 'word' was a variation of 'Jarvis'.

(He feels like he shouldn’t tell Maria, and especially not Howard. ‘Dada’ is supposed to come after ‘Mama’, not the name of the family butler. This moment would be his and Ana’s private treasure- something he would confide in Anthony when the boy grew up.)

(If the boy still liked him by that time, of course.)

(Edwin hopes he will.)

[solarcelest]

troubled history

Day #2

*warnings for school lockdowns and threats*

Damian swore his ears were about to bleed.

His history teacher, a rather moody man who favoured the use of chalk to the much quieter dry erase markers and white board, had been talking about the American revolution for nearly a full hour. At first, it was rather interesting, especially to Damian who tended to appreciate and even enjoy the subject. Now, after almost sixty minutes of listening to the man’s monotone voice, Damian was about to pick up his bag and march out of that classroom faster than Paul Revere himself.

They had extended blocks that day, as they did every Wednesday (one of Gotham Academy’s many downsides) and the eleven year old was more than positive he wouldn’t be able to bare through another half an hour of torture.

With one final glance at the clock and a quick touch up to the notes he was forcing himself to take, Damian raised his hand and held it high for the teacher to see.

And held it.

And held it some more.

His teacher did not look, not even for one short moment did the professor take his eyes off of his beloved chalkboard. Damian rolled his eyes, clearing his throat to gather his teachers attention. Finally, Mr. Myers turned around, eyes scanning the crowd of desks in search of the offending student. Damian waved his hand some, even having to exaggerate the movements before Myers finally spotted him.

“Mr. Wayne?” His teacher asked, looking, for his part, only slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

“May I use the restroom, sir?” Damian asked, sweetening his voice and bouncing his leg slightly to exaggerate his ‘need’. His teacher hardly ever let his students leave one of his lectures, not unless it was a real emergency.

Myers took in the situation, sighed and finally nodded his head. He muttered something rather offensive about children’s small bladders and reminded Damian to grab the hall pass on his way out.

Damian didn’t remember a time he had moved so fast.

The bathroom was only a little way down the hall, the history wing being the closest to the main lavatories. Still, even though the walk was much shorter than he would have liked, Damian was thankful for the chance to stretch his cramping legs and ease the oncoming migraine. He stopped by the water bubbler, taking in a few refreshing sips he hoped would defend against the soon to be headache before entering the boys bathroom.

He hadn’t needed to use it, in fact, Damian despised using the restrooms at school, or any public facilities for that matter. Still though, he entered a stall and let himself slide to the ground, too tired to care about the ocean of germs and parasites he was sure he had just sat on. His head felt a little warm and the cool tile of the floor and wall felt good on his aching muscles.

He wondered if he was coming down with something. If so, sitting on the boys bathroom floor at his child infested school probably wasn’t the best way to prevent obtaining an illness. He let his mind wander for a moment, wondering how long he would be able to his sickness from father before the man discovered him and banned him from patrol.

He hoped not, Damian didn’t get to see his father much out of uniform.

He allowed himself a moment to shut his eyes, the pulsing behind his corneas easing slightly as he did so.

Damian couldn’t have had his eyes shut for more than a minute when the shrill beep of the loudspeaker cut echoed through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiled walls to hit his ears painfully. It was always the same elderly lady, voice scratchy from years of abuse and puffs of nicotine.

“Attention students, we are now in lock down.” She said, voice oddly calm for saying something with so much weight. Damian’s heart rate spiked with the words, he quickly picked his head off from the tile. “Stay where you are and perform the practiced procedure. We have just received a threat and have already notified the police. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.” Damian hurried to his feet, rushing to the door to hurry into the hallway before he stilled. This was not a mission. He wasn’t Robin and, out of uniform, Damian Wayne was nothing but a normal, useless eleven year old kid.

His blood boiled. He knew what he had to do. He also knew it wasn’t all that logical and that if any of the school staff were around, they would tell him to stay where he was. Still, even if he wasn’t leaving the bathroom in search of the potential threat, he didn’t feel comfortable waiting alone and cornered in the bathroom practically waiting for the threat to come to him.

He gripped the hall pass and pressed his ear against the inside of the bathroom door. He listened for a few moments and, upon hearing nothing, proceeded to creep his way into the hallway.

It was eerily quiet and seemed almost as if the school had been entirely abandoned. The classroom doors were shut, shades pulled down and all locked securely. He made his way down the hall, looking for somewhere he could duck into that would provide at least a little shelter.

He had walked about fifty feet when he cursed himself for his stupidity. There was nowhere that offered cover in a school that had initiated lock down. Every door was sealed, every window covered and a janitor's closet would provide even less protection than the bathroom had. It wasn’t even an option to knock on one of the classrooms. Any noise from outside would indicate to the students and teacher that the threat was trying to infiltrate their room. The last thing Damian wanted to do was be mistaken for the criminal.

He cursed himself again when he realized he wasn’t even sure exactly what the threat was.

Mother would have been furious with him.

Perhaps Father was correct and Damian was to rash, to arrogant and pompous a hinderance-

Damian barely had time to duck before everything around him exploded.

Debris flew around with no pattern, littering the floor and Damian with chunks of wood, loose screws, sheets of metal from the lockers and those hideous squares of ceiling. His knees buckled as a large wooden plank crashed into his leg. He fell, tilting to the right as he tumbled into the mess.

It was quiet for a moment and Damian waited, crouched awkwardly over the remnants of the wall that once stood beside him. His leg was trapped, caught under a fallen piece of drywall still attached to the stud. He scoffed at the lousy architecture. A school as fine as this one should have been made more sound.

Damian didn’t get a chance to dwell on the subject before there was another explosion, a little closer this time, and a mound of lockers about twenty feet down the hall exploded. Shards of razor sharp metal flew out in all directions. Damian tried to duck, covering his head and doing his best to crouch down. But , with his leg caught as it was, his attempts were in vain and a large piece managed to slice a large gash on his forehead and upper arm. He gasped, biting his lip in response to the intense stinging before listening for another explosion.

He tried to stem the bleeding as he waited, he wounds tended to pour blood in heaps kissing as little as possible would keep him the most coherent. Besides, he already suspected a concussion, adding blood loss to the lost would make it even more difficult for him to figure out an escape.

After some more time making sure, Damian decoded it was safe enough to assume there wasn’t another bomb. Tightening his grip on wounds, he began to assess the situation. The threat was obviously a bomb, and he hoped there had only been two. The first one must have taken place somewhere on the floor below him, the art wing then, and the other where he was now, near the gym. He was thankful for that, since the gym appeared empty and he was well aware there were no art classes that block. He often escaped history to visits the art teacher. He rather liked her, and subconsciously hoped that she was alright.

He wondered why though, someone would go through the trouble of destroying the parts of the school that were currently empty. As horrible of a thought as it was, it was a rather logical one and Damain supposed it must have been a metaphor or a protest. A large one for sure, and probably from someone not so physiologically well.

A wave of dust came crashing from what was left to the ceiling. Ductwork and pipes could be seen overhead, as well as what Damian believed to be a small part of the late morning sky.

Damian hoped that Father would come, even in the daytime. He was sure that the man new of the current events by now, especially considered who he was both day and night. Damian hoped soon, his vision was already starting to blur, nofcicid by the fuzzy outline of air duct above.

Though, he supposed the man had a right not to come, they had fought again last night after all. Damian had been banned from patrol again. Father and not spoken to him since, Damian realized.

Not a ‘good night’ or a ‘good morning’ or even a ‘hello’. And so, Damian assumed it was best to think that maybe, just maybe, no one was coming for him at all.

[the-walnut]

Night Vale + Scientists

Alrighty, I’m relatively new to this fandom and all, so I’m not entirely sure how well this actually coincides with canon and whatnot, but I’m going to feel free to vocalize this anyway.

We all know from relatively early on in this particularly lovely podcast that Carlos the “Perfectly Imperfect” Scientist has an unrivalled passion for the unexplained. The idea of mystery drives him crazy, and he chases blindly after anything that doesn’t have a feasible answer, that can’t be understood, that seems far too beyond human comprehension to decode- a trait that, I will argue to my last dying breath, is part of why he fell head-over-kettle in love with Cecil Palmer, perhaps the most mysterious and unexplainable character in the show, and the first impossible riddle he wasn’t hell-bent on solving

Cecil, though, is the exact opposite of his counterpart. See, Cecil’s job is announcing the happenings of Night Vale, not analyzing them. When something occurs out of the ordinary, he doesn’t always need a ‘why’- in fact, in most regards, Cecil’s pretty content to just have a general grasp of what’s going on or what to expect from something and roll with the punches. Animal carcasses raining from the sky? Don’t panic, just get a stronger umbrella. The sun didn’t rise today? You know, that happens sometimes. It’ll pass!

It makes sense, in this fashion, for the fandom to naturally come to the conclusion that Cecil is terrible when it comes to science. I’ve seen a lot of posts and fanart about the worst accidents in the lab being Cecil’s doing, and while they’re amusing, I have another perspective to bring to the metaphorical table.

What we often seem to forget is that, while Carlos always seems to come to the right conclusions at the right times, and make sense of an insensible world, he’s still an Outsider. Night Vale is a curious thing to most of its occupants, let alone an individual who wasn’t born and raised there. There’s a lot of stuff about this one unique speck in the desert that even Carlos doesn’t know anything about, and I have no doubt in my mind that it would hinder him sometimes.

So instead, in the early stages of their relationship, I can imagine Cecil waking up to a call from a frustrated Carlos, going off on an absolute venting tangent from the lab at 4:37 A.M. And at first, it’s a bit of a shock to both of them because, well, from Cecil’s end it is 4:37 A.M. on a Wednesday, and he’s talking particle theory with a man who probably should’ve tried getting some sleep three days ago at the rate he’s going, but all the other members of Carlos’ team have long since gone home, and he usually finds it helpful to go step-by-step through his experiments vocally to catch any mistakes or hash out new ideas.

After at least a full forty-five minutes of Carlos rambling into the phone about how the molecular bonding of this solution shouldn’t be even remotely close to what it is, and that he can’t understand why it keeps giving off such staggeringly different temperatures with each batch he makes, Cecil (getting over his initial surprise that Carlos is calling him of all people) gently reminds him that maybe he’d best rest and think about it again with a clear head.

“Try some of that raspberry oolong Intern Stephen dropped off earlier this week,” He suggests brightly, explaining that it’s supposed to help with clarity and that the crushed beetle wings in the mixture hardly throw off the taste at all. “And remember to whisper a compliment to the water before you try to boil it- it can get fussy otherwise, you know. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve forgotten and wound up with a solid block of ice in my kettle or, worse, the kettle itself melting all over the countertop. Terrible to get out of the carpet later in that case, but as long as you’re cordial, it should boil nicely for you.”

And at first, there’s dead silence on the other end of the line, before Cecil can hear Carlos scrambling to make a note on this development, because of course he wasn’t whispering anything to the water he’d used in his experiment, and that’s probably the reason for 74% of the problems he’s come across so far.

It doesn’t take long for this to become a normal occurrence, Carlos calling in regularly with all kinds of questions and, as before, just needing to talk through something, Cecil offering advice on how to handle certain stuff, or even just talking a while about the things Carlos is working with. More often than not, this leads to some kind of revelation, because while Cecil might not understand the science behind why glass stirring rods need to be used only in a clockwise direction, he at least knows that they just do, and that’s what Carlos needs.

Eventually, this extends to the rest of the lab crew as well, because, yes, they might be Night Vale residents, but there’s a pretty large chunk of information about their town that even they are missing. With how quickly things can come up or change in their spooky little town, it can be impossible to keep track of everything on one’s own. Tentatively at first, but with growing speed, the other scientists begin asking for advice and extra help with info as well. 

Catching on to the trend, a new addition makes its way into Cecil’s radio show, where, every day, scientists can send in questions for the citizens of Night Vale, and they can respond accordingly, offering insight. If nothing else, it serves as a reminder to those listening in on the broadcast that their scientists don’t miraculously have the answers to everything, and that the downside to having the entire population of your city looking to you for those answers is sometimes not having any.

Even those who don’t have knowledge to offer find ways to help. Scientists return home, weary beyond measure from saving their friends and family from yet another disaster, only to find the lights already dimmed and welcoming, old takeout containers thrown away, and bed made. There’s a note on the table that would be eery and concerning, were it not for the sensation that there had always been a presence in their home, and, if nothing else, this only confirms one of their many hypothesises, setting another theory down to rest. Creatures (that definitely are not angels) appear in the lab every now and then, bringing with them a smiling old woman, and several Big Rico’s pizza boxes, cases of bottled water, and bundles of grapes. Nobody knows why grapes in particular. Maybe the not-angels have an affinity for them. Either way, the mandatory snack break is welcomed by many. Secret police mutter helpful tips from bushes under open windows, and, despite books being banned, once in a blue moon a torn-out page from some volume makes it’s way onto a given scientist’s lab table, curating many more questions, and causing many to reevaluate their perceptions of the harrowing librarians, the hooded figures who show no fear of them, and the public library itself.

Night Vale is a place of mystery and intrigue and danger- but it is also a place of people bonded by experience and survival. It’s a place called “home” by many, even if they do not necessarily understand it, and these are the people who save this city by supporting discovery in their own little ways. Night Vale loves its scientists, and it will do what it can to help them understand it even a little bit more.

[imm-blog1]

Language of the birds..In mythology, medieval literature, occultism, mystical, perfect divine language, green language, Adamic language, Enochian, angelic language or a mythical or magical language used by birds to communicate with the initiated.

YOUNG CHILDREN HAVE an uncanny ability to pick up new languages. Not only do they soak up vocabulary, they also construct new sentences of their own. This ability to use grammar is the essence of language. It’s not enough to know the meanings of words, you also have to understand the structures and rules by which words are put together.

The predominant view has been that humans are unique in this ability. But any time that we utter the words ‘uniquely human’, scientists seem to take it as a challenge to disprove this notion. And language is no exception. If you’re looking for the species that most closely matches our linguistic prowess, surprisingly, you won’t find it in the apes, the primates, or even in the mammals. You have to travel to a far more distant relative, all the way to a family of birds known as the songbirds.

The vocal life of a songbird is similar to ours in many ways. They learn songs by imitating their elders. Like human speech, these songs are passed down from one generation to the next. Songbirds are also best equipped to learn songs in their youth, and they have to practice to develop their ability. They can improvise and string together riffs into new songs, and over generations these modified songs can turn into new dialects. And like us, they come hard-wired with ‘speech-centers’ in their brain that are dedicated to language processing.

But languages are not just learned, they can also be invented. A striking example comes from the deaf community of Nicaragua in the 1970s. Back then, deaf people in Nicaragua were isolated both physically and through language. By the 1980s, the government set up schools for the deaf to teach them Spanish and how to lip-read. This turned out to be an unsuccessful endeavor. The teachers were growing increasingly frustrated as they were not getting through to the students.

However, things were quite different from the point of view of the students. For the first time, they were in contact with many other deaf people, and they started to exchange gestures that they had invented in isolation. At first the teachers thought this gesticulation was a kind of mime, but the reality was far more interesting. By getting together and pooling their ideas, these children had actually invented a new type of sign language, complete with its own grammatical structure. Here was proof that a new language could be born out of cultural isolation, a testament to our innate abilities to understand grammar. And in a few generations, users of this language were employing newer, more nuanced grammatical structures.And this re-invention of language has been mirrored in the songbirds. An experiment from 2009 by Fehér and colleagues took newly hatched songbirds of the zebra finch species and raised them in sound proof chambers. They did this during their critical period of language development. Much like the Nicaraguan children, these birds were raised in a world without song. What happened next is quite surprising.

Just like the children, this culturally isolated generation of birds began to develop their own songs. These songs were less musical than your typical songbird song – they had irregular rhythms, they would stutter their notes, and the notes would sound more noisy. But the researchers were curious where this would lead. They listened to the songs of the next few generations of pupils, the offspring of these children of silence. What they found was quite amazing. In just two generations, the songs started to change in unexpected ways – they were becoming more musical. In fact, they started to converge upon the song of the wild songbirds, even though none of these birds had ever heard the wild songs.

I find this a rather poetic thought – these songbirds are somehow carrying within them the songs of their ancestors. This study suggests, but does not prove, that songbirds must have an innate understanding of the structures of their language. In other words, they seem to have a built-in intuition about grammar. Over time, they may be using these intuitions to develop their phrasing and tone. n mythology, medieval literature and occultism, the language of the birds is postulated as a mystical, perfect divine language, green language, Adamic language, Enochian, angelic language or a mythical or magical language used by birds to communicate with the initiated.The “language of birds” has many names; some call it the “Language of the Gods”, others the “Green language”. Michael Sells has referred to this “sacred language” as the “language of unsaying”, whereby the core of what needs to be said, is actually not said, though everyone understands what is being said. The “language of birds” is therefore the mystical language, by default an unpopular subject amongst scholars, specifically because of the apparent lack of “clarity”: a clear and distinct sense. The sense is inferred. And whereas this may be possible to map in extant languages, when it comes to extinct languages, or even extant languages the way they were spoken in the past, grasping this “undefined core sense” is not an easy task.

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The link with green – as in the Green Language – as the colour of alchemy is never far away, specifically as alchemy is equally “obscure” in its words. Alchemy is not so much obscure in what it tried to do; even when it is clear that the process described is chemical in nature, the substances themselves are difficult if not impossible to identify. Birds are also present in alchemy, specifically the phoenix that rises from its own ashes. But a peacock, the pelican, the white swan and the black crow all feature in alchemy. Birds in general represented the element air, but at the same time, their flight was identical to the ascension to heaven. The phoenix also incorporated the element fire, thus portraying the union of two elements and its transformative – regenerative – outcome. What is “bird language”? On first inspection, it would be the language that the birds use to communicate amongst themselves. It is a language the birds understand, but we humans do not. Largely, it is a system of human communication, which has been around for a very long time, but which is ill-understood. Then again: the ability not to be understood unless by those who were initiated into the language was actually its purpose. Fulcanelli stated that the alchemists had to resort to this means in order to obscure from one that which was to be disclosed to the other. To many, the language of birds is therefore nothing more or less than a series of secret codes and phrases, which pass by in daily conversation, except for those with ears that “hear”. The most famous example of this today are certain key words, learned amongst Masons. Each group and grade of Masons has their own specific keywords, which are largely unrecognisable when spoken in daily conversation. Some of these expressions have nevertheless become part of normal parlance. One Masonic expression is “to give someone the third degree”, referring to the strenuous initiation a third degree mason had to undergo. This, together with a series of handshakes and other signals, identify a person and his role – whereby a non-Mason sitting in on the conversation may be totally unaware of what is going on.

English is largely void of a “green nature”, whereas French seems to be full of it. The words “L’hasard” – coincidence – and “Lazare” – Lazarus – are pronounced identically. But in certain conversations, people will play with these two words, and ask whether it is “L’hasard” or “Lazare”, whereby it is interpreted that “Lazare” is no coincidence at all. Anyone not “in” on the conversation will be completely bewildered and will not understand.

In the final outcome, it is nevertheless clear that Masonic and the “green language” as present in French is more a system of codes than a specific “language”. If anything, they seem to be only remains of what was once perhaps a vast system of knowledge. Some have described the “language of birds” as “the tongue of Secret Wisdom. Its vocabulary is myth. Its grammar is symbolism.” They argue that the development of the written language and the language of birds go hand in hand. According to the Fables of Caius Juliius Hyginus, the god Mercury (the Greek Hermes) invented the alphabet by watching cranes, because “cranes make letters as they fly”. The Egyptian god of writing is Thoth, and his animal is actually a bird: the ibis. For the Egyptians, hieroglyphics therefore was the language of birds – and one often recurring hieroglyph is a bird itself.

Hieroglyphics is a symbolic system of writing. Some have argued that hieroglyphs were indeed the “sacred – secret – language” of the Gods, specifically because they were symbols – and the Egyptians only used them within a religious setting. Though they were an alphabet, it is felt that at some point, the symbol itself had a meaning, which is now lost. What Champollion was able to decode, was only the basest of its nature – and no-one has since been able to fathom its deepest meaning. The origin of the “bird language” may go back to primitive societies. When shamans enter a trance, they attempt to speak the language of nature; they are said to speak “the language of birds”. Historians of religion have documented this phenomenon around the entire world and depictions of shamans with wings or as a bird are common.

One biblical example is King Solomon. Solomon was told that he would “be able to understand the language of the birds and beasts… Then Solomon woke up from his dream. He wondered if God had really spoken to him or whether it had been a spirit beguiling him in his dreams. Then he heard the birds squawking and twittering to each other in his garden below. He heard one suddenly cry out, ‘Silly birds — stop all this noise! Don’t you know that the God has just given Solomon the ability to understand what we say and to make us do as he wishes!’” In these societies, bird language is usually learnt by eating snake or some other magical animal. These animals can reveal the secrets of the future because they are thought to be receptacles for the souls of the dead or epiphanies of the gods. The birds are psychopomps, as birds were believed to undertake the ecstatic journey to the sky and beyond; they made the voyage to the Otherworld. Equally, serpents were said to be able to understand the language of birds.

In Christian tradition, some saints are said to have communicated with the animals, whereas the exploits of St Patrick in Ireland, which involves both flight and snakes, clearly have the saint following in the footstep of the “Celtic shamans”. Still, Robert Temple has argued that this “language of birds” was in essence a large con, practiced by the oracles of the ancient world. He argues that the “language of birds” was in fact a form of communication: birds were used as messenger services, as they would be throughout history, until the advent of modern means of communication. The ancient Greek world would use them to dispatch information across the nation, whereby the oracles were the first to receive this information. Therefore, Temple claims, what they prophesized was not so much “Otherworldly”, but merely information from elsewhere in this world, dispatched by “express pigeon”, to give the oracles the semblance of psychic ability. Most authors, including Andrew Collins, in From the Ashes of Angels: The Forbidden Legacy of a Fallen Race, argue that the origins of the association of the bird and the shaman should be sought within the anthropological realm. He and others have shown that shamans often dressed up as a bird, or used the feathers of a bird to resemble a bird. From a man dressed with feathers to an angel is a small step. Furthermore, the link between the shaman and the bird occurs specifically because in a trance, the shaman is said to be able to fly – like angels. But the connection goes beyond this. In the tenth Homiliarum in Ezcechielem, Gregory the Great compared the music of the angels, heard in the heavenly spheres, to birds’ singing. This was then encapsulated in the “Gregorian chants” that became famous throughout the Christian world – and which continue to lure people to churches.

Still, the angels were said not to speak; like birds, they articulated sounds in the air. At the same time, the sound that was produced was not their mode of communication; angels – like shamans – were believed to be psychic – they only required thoughts to communicate; there was no need for a “language” and the “music of the spheres” was merely the outcome; in short, music had to be dissociated from its lyrics, for in origin, music was either felt to be instrumental, or “Gregorian”. People who are fluent in several languages – including many autistic people – know that thinking often occurs in symbols. They will see an apple, but need to scan their brain for the word, sometimes in all languages, some only in a few. Learning to speak is exactly that: the process by which we associate words with shapes. “Apple.” “House.” “Car.” Words such as “altruistic” or “disingenuous” only come about at a much later state; not because they are more difficult, but because they themselves require a definition that is based on other words.

So where does this leave the language of birds? Some argue that modern languages are a diminutive form of an original, “non-linguistic language”, which is precisely the origin of the “language of birds”. It echoes the story of the Tower of Babel and the scattering of the tongues. It is therefore an interesting phenomenon to note that English, which is a very basic language when compared to other extinct and extant forms of verbal communication, is making major inroads in uniting the world once again in a common tongue. Some have even joked that we are getting God back on the Tower of Babel.

So where does this leave the language of birds? Was it indeed a communication of symbols – whereby the core needs to be divined, and remains elusive, unless “understood”? Does it underline the old distinction between “hearing” and “understanding”? Was hieroglyphics an attempt to bring down into the material world this “divine language”, whereby symbols were transformed into letters – whereby we are now no longer able to grasp their core meanings? Birds in the Egyptian alphabet include the Egyptian vulture, the owl and the quail chick. As such, each played a part in the divine utterances of the Egyptian gods, and their message to the nation. But it was the Bennu bird’s cry at the creation of the world that marked the beginning of time… for the Egyptians, the primeval scream was that of a bird… Language of the Birds as “the language which teaches the mystery of things and unveils the most hidden truths.” Often called the Green language or language of the gods, this sacred form of communication is believed to reveal the most perfect knowledge and secret wisdom to those initiated into its wonder.

Considering the different names applied to this hidden language may provide hints on how it is learned or re-discovered. The association of the language with the color green gives the impression the language is one which comes with new life or a reconnection. As mentioned, while discussing The Green Cross, the color green has been seen for centuries to signify rebirth. A possible indication a person who understands the mysterious green language may have been spiritually awakened.

Taking into account other clues, one may ponder the attributes of birds for their relation to the mysterious wisdom. Most notably are the bird’s songs. Music is well known to hold great power. If man is quiet enough, the beautiful sounds relax and uplift. A pastor friend, who has worked with terminally ill patients, shares the following comforting effects of song; “in knowing their time has come, prepared to go, but struggling to let go, I ask if they mind if I hum a song to ease them. Humming a tune and holding their hand, the soothing sound soon connects to something deep within and they peacefully pass.”

Although this account is one of sadness, it conveys the strong touching sense of harmonious song. Perhaps the Language of the Birds is a music which speaks straight to the soul. To know a connection to the Divine, here now on Earth, could bring a welcomed peace to the common demands and bustle of this world.

Fulcanelli stated it was through Jesus sending his Spirit to his Apostles that caused the green language to be revealed to them. One may wonder if the song of the Dove, symbol of the Spirit, may be of importance to understanding the secret language; or if there is a link to Psalms 40:1, “He puts a new song in my mouth.”

However, the Language of the Birds transcends systems and has been seen in various ways for thousands of years. During the founding of the city of Rome in 753 BC, Romulus and Remus are said to have settled an argument about which hill to build the first site, by use of Augury. Augury is a form of divination by birds. The flight formation, noises, or kinds of birds (a language of birds) were believed to reveal the will of the gods. Romulus, seeing more birds than Remus, claimed victory, and went on to build around Palatine Hill. From this myth, this language of the birds is recognized to communicate the Will from above.

In Agrippa’s Three Books of Occult Philosophy, there is mention of another parallel form of divination; the divining of the liver, called haruspicy. Most commonly used was that of a sheep liver, but sometimes the liver of poultry was known to be employed. The liver, seen as a life force, was regarded like a mirror of heaven. Different marks noticed on different sections would convey the will of the Gods to the sage.

This practice is identified with an ancient board game called the Royal Game of Ur or Game of Twenty Squares. Dating back to 2600BC, the game held deep spiritual significance. Like many ancient games, they have been discovered buried inside tombs and believed to aid in the afterlife. Played during life, possibly during rituals, they offered assurance of a life after death.

Found etched on a model of a sheep liver at excavations of Kamid el Loz was a board of Twenty Squares. This clay model is believed to have been used to teach and/or record the results of divination by the liver. The combination of game board and clay liver model, used for divination, attests the mutual importance of sacredness to both.

Curiously, on a cuneiform tablet written in 177 BC, rules for playing the game of Twenty Squares were inscribed and included names of five gaming pieces characterized as birds; Storm-bird, Rooster, Swallow, Raven, and Eagle. Although the tablet discloses directions for game playing (as translated by Irving Finkel), these ‘five flying game pieces’, portray birds which could signify the remnants of past divination beliefs. Here, the birds, moving across the board, recorded and revealed the will of the gods by spaces they landed on. The Language of Birds, seen again, to communicate knowledge from above with rolls of the dice.

On a brief side note, another interesting game board of Twenty Squares (of different design) was formed from the image of an entwining snake. Inside the coils were the spaces to land on. Where the head and tail of the snake met (similar to ouroborus), marked the position where the player’s piece was believed to have escaped the ‘board’.

Talking about games may seem to some as a distraction from discovering the meaning of the Language of the Birds. However, games have transcended and spread through all cultures. They are one of the first inventions of civilizations and often incorporate beliefs and visions of the time. Many symbolized and represented deeper meanings to life.

A 1283 AD manuscript, called Alfonso X’s Book of Games begins by saying games were created because “God wanted man to have every manner of happiness.” Games were said to give that delight. In the same manuscript, games are used to demonstrate crucial values of life. Playing the games gave awareness and experience to situations found outside of the game.

Presently, there is a game called Mad Gab which some people may like to see Fulcanelli and Henri Boudet play (if it were possible). Boudet was the author of The True Celtic Language and the Cromlech of Rennes-les-Bains. The game of Mad Gab shares one of the important concepts suggested by these two men; the play of words by sound. Fulcanelli connects it with the Language of the Birds.

An example of this coded language is shared within Gerard de Sede’s book, The Accursed Treasure of Rennes-le-Chateau. Sede writes, “But Boudet pretends, against all the evidence, that “Cayrolo” comes from three English words, namely “key”, “ear”, and “hole”.”

Reverse of the Mad Gab game, the sound of Cayrolo hid three words. In Mad Gab, the words are given, like “Pretty Share Weighs.” These need ‘sounded’ to provide the answer of “British Airways.” Players are encouraged to ‘listen’ in order to discover.

For many, the Maranatha puzzle or researching the mystery of Rennes le Chateau offers a playing field for which the game pieces move. Discovery of the language of the birds may be only one of the spaces or could offer the means to move onto another ‘space.’

To wonder what voice could accomplish Fulcanelli’s description of the Green Language in ability to reveal ‘the most hidden truths’, may lead some to feel it is none other than the first, green, voice; the Will of God. It’s possible that in order to hear it, one must be silent and listen.

Contents 1History 1.1Mythology 1.1.1Norse mythology 1.1.2Greek mythology 1.2Middle Eastern folklore 1.3Folklore 1.4Alchemy 1.5Literature and culture 2See also 3Notes 4Bibliography 5External links History[edit] In Indo-European religion, the behavior of birds has long been used for the purposes of divination by augurs. According to a suggestion by Walter Burkert, these customs may have their roots in the Paleolithic when, during the Ice Age, early humans looked for carrion by observing scavenging birds.[1]

There are also examples of contemporary bird-human communication and symbiosis. In North America, ravens have been known to lead wolves (and native hunters) to prey they otherwise would be unable to consume.[2][3] In Africa, the greater honeyguide is known to guide humans to beehives in the hope that the hive will be incapacitated and opened for them.

Dating to the Renaissance, birdsong was the inspiration for some magical engineered languages, in particular musical languages. Whistled languages based on spoken natural languages are also sometimes referred to as the language of the birds. Some language games are also referred to as the language of birds, such as in Oromo and Amharic of Ethiopia.[4]

Ukrainian language is known as "nightingale speech" amongst its speakers.[citation needed]

Mythology[edit] Norse mythology[edit] In Norse mythology, the power to understand the language of the birds was a sign of great wisdom. The god Odin had two ravens, called Hugin and Munin, who flew around the world and told Odin what happened among mortal men.

The legendary king of Sweden Dag the Wise was so wise that he could understand what birds said. He had a tame house sparrow which flew around and brought back news to him. Once, a farmer in Reidgotaland killed Dag’s sparrow, which brought on a terrible retribution from the Swedes.

In the Rígsþula, Konr was able to understand the speech of birds. When Konr was riding through the forest hunting and snaring birds, a crow spoke to him and suggested he would win more if he stopped hunting mere birds and rode to battle against foemen.

The ability could also be acquired by tasting dragon blood. According to the Poetic Edda and the Völsunga saga, Sigurd accidentally tasted dragon blood while roasting the heart of Fafnir. This gave him the ability to understand the language of birds, and his life was saved as the birds were discussing Regin’s plans to kill Sigurd. Through the same ability Áslaug, Sigurd’s daughter, found out the betrothment of her husband Ragnar Lodbrok, to another woman.

The 11th century Ramsund carving in Sweden depicts how Sigurd learnt the language of birds, in the Poetic Edda and the Völsunga saga The 11th century Ramsund carving in Sweden depicts how Sigurd learnt the language of birds, in the Poetic Edda and the Völsunga saga.

Sigurd is sitting naked in front of the fire preparing the dragon heart, from Fafnir, for his foster-father Regin, who is Fafnir’s brother. The heart is not finished yet, and when Sigurd touches it, he burns himself and sticks his finger into his mouth. As he has tasted dragon blood, he starts to understand the birds’ song. The birds say that Regin will not keep his promise of reconciliation and will try to kill Sigurd, which causes Sigurd to cut off Regin’s head. Regin is dead beside his own head, his smithing tools with which he reforged Sigurd’s sword Gram are scattered around him, and Regin’s horse is laden with the dragon’s treasure. is the previous event when Sigurd killed Fafnir, and shows Ótr from the saga’s beginning. In an eddic poem loosely connected with the Sigurd tradition which is named Helgakviða Hjörvarðssonar, the reason why a man named Atli once had the ability is not explained. Atli’s lord’s son Helgi would marry what was presumably Sigurd’s aunt, the Valkyrie Sváfa.

Greek mythology[edit] According to Apollonius Rhodius, the figurehead of Jason’s ship, the Argo, was built of oak from the sacred grove at Dodona and could speak the language of birds. Tiresias was also said to have been given the ability to understand the language of the birds by Athena. The language of birds in Greek mythology may be attained by magical means. Democritus, Anaximander, Apollonius of Tyana, Melampus and Aesopus were all said to have understood the birds.

The ‘birds’ are also mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey : "“[…] although I am no prophet really, and I do not know much about the meaning of birds. I tell you he will not long be absent from his dear native land, not if chains of iron hold him fast. He will find a way to get back, for he is never at a loss."[5]

Middle Eastern folklore[edit] In the Quran, Suleiman (Solomon) and David are said to have been taught the language of the birds.[6] Within Sufism, the language of birds is a mystical divine language. The Conference of the Birds is a mystical poem of 4647 verses by the 12th century Persian poet Attar of Nishapur.[7]

In the Jerusalem Talmud,[8] Solomon’s proverbial wisdom was due to his being granted understanding of the language of birds by God.

In Egyptian Arabic, hieroglyphic writing is called "the alphabet of the birds".[citation needed]

Folklore[edit] The concept is also known from many folk tales (including Welsh, Russian, German, Estonian, Greek, Romany), where usually the protagonist is granted the gift of understanding the language of the birds either by some magical transformation, or as a boon by the king of birds. The birds then inform or warn the hero about some danger or hidden treasure. One example is the Russian story The Language of the Birds.[citation needed]

Alchemy[edit] In Kabbalah, Renaissance magic, and alchemy, the language of the birds was considered a secret and perfect language and the key to perfect knowledge, sometimes also called the langue verte, or green language (Jean Julien Fulcanelli, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa de occulta philosophia, (Emmanuel-Yves Monin, Hieroglyphes Français Et Langue Des Oiseaux),[citation needed]

Literature and culture[edit] Compare also the rather comical and satirical Birds of Aristophanes and Parliament of Fowls by Chaucer.

In medieval France, the language of the birds (la langue des oiseaux) was a secret language of the Troubadours, connected with the Tarot, allegedly based on puns and symbolism drawn from homophony, e. g. an inn called au lion d’or ("the Golden Lion") is allegedly "code" for au lit on dort "in the bed one sleeps".[9]

René Guénon has written an article about the symbolism of the language of the birds.[10]

Chinese writer Pu Songling wrote about "The Bird Language" in his anthology Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio".

Hiéroglyphes Français Et La Langue Des Oiseaux, Editions du Point d’Eau by Emmanuel Yves-Monin is a systematic study on the subject but is only available in French.[citation needed]

The artificial language zaum of Russian Futurism was described as "language of the birds" by Velimir Khlebnikov.[citation needed]

The children’s book author Rafe Martin has written "The Language of Birds" as an adaptation of a Russian folk tale; it was made into a children’s opera by composer John Kennedy.[citation needed]

Melanesian creole Tok Pisin is sometimes called "language of the birds", because the word "pisin" has a double meaning (from English words "pidgin" and "pigeon"). Mian speakers, for example, refer to Tok Pisin as wan weng, literally "bird language".

See also[edit] Bird vocalization Confusion of tongues Glossolalia Musical language Notes[edit] ^ Marzluff, John M.; Tony Angell (2007). In the Company of Crows and Ravens. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. pp. 284–287. ISBN 0-300-12255-1. ^ McDougall, Len (2004). The Encyclopedia of Tracks and Scats. Globe Pequot. p. 296. ISBN 1-59228-070-6. ^ Tipton, Diane (2006-07-06). "Raven Myths May Be Real". Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks. Retrieved 2017-10-29. ^ Kebbede Hordofa and Peter Unseth. 1986. "Bird Talk" in Oromo. Quaderni di Studi Etiopici 6-7:74-83 ^ The Odyssey – Chapter 1 – What Went On in the House of Odysseus ^ 27:16 "And Solomon inherited David. He said, "O people, we have been taught the language of birds, and we have been given from all things. Indeed, this is evident bounty." ^ METmuseum.org ^ Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, 1909 ^ Letarot.com ^ René Guénon – Symbols of Sacred Science, Chapter 9 – The Language of birds Bibliography[edit]

This article includes a list of references, but its sources remain unclear because it has insufficient inline citations. Please help to improve this article by introducing more precise citations. (February 2016) (Learn how and when to remove this template message) Animal Symbolism in Celtic Mythology, by Lars Noodén (1992) Davidson, H.R. Ellis. Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe: Early Scandinavian and Celtic Religions. Syracuse University Press: Syracuse, NY, US, 1988. Yves Monin (Emmanuel), Hiéroglyphes Français Et Langue Des Oiseaux, Editions du Point d’Eau. Richard Khaitzine, La Langue des Oiseaux – Quand ésotérisme et littérature se rencontrent, France-spiritualites.com René Guénon, The Language of the Birds, Australia’s Sufi Magazine "The Treasure" 2 (1998). Ormsby-Lennon, Hugh "Rosicrucian Linguistics: Twilight of a Renaissance Tradition," passim. Ed. Ingrid Merkel, Hermeticism and the Renaissance: Intellectual History and the Occult in Early Modern Europe (1988), pp. 311 – 341. (in French) Le verland des oiseaux (The Verlan of the Birds) Collection "Pommes Pirates Papillons", Poèmes de Michel Besnier. Illustrations de Boiry, Editions Møtus

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_of_the_birds

Posted by bernawy hugues kossi huo on 2019-10-14 07:55:27

Tagged: , Language , birds , Divination , Renaissance , Honeyguides , Nightingale , Speeches , Speaking , Speaker , Hugin , Munin , Mortality , Musical , bird-human , Beach , sand , Impressum , marca , impronta , afdruk , odcisk , оттиск , imprint , Poetry , HughesSonge , song , ApolloniusofRhodus , Apollonius , Rhodus , RISD , Odyssey , Jason , Argonaut , House , Alien , Psychic , Phenomenal , Phenomena , Phenomenum , system , codes , Green , alchemy , obscure , Occult , Occultism , transformative , regenerative , keywords , Pinstripes , ecstatic , journey , Otherworldly , Ashes , Angels , heavenly , spheres , articulated , sounds , scattering , tongues , verbal , communication , common , tongue , hieroglyphic , divine , primeval , scream , Grammatical , Structure , songbirds , essence , rule , foot

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[piperemerald]

Falling For Your Voice

Fandom: The Promised Neverland

Pairing: Norray 

AO3

Summary: Norman Minerva is one of the most recognized singer/songwriters of this generation, captivating thousands with his beautiful voice, detailed lyrics, and charming personality. And Ray is in love with him.

81194 is the most popular author of this age with dozens of best sellers to his name, despite fact that no one knows his true identity or anything about the person behind the numbers. And Norman is in love with him.

They live in different worlds. The two of them ever meeting is impossible—just as impossible as both of them falling in love with just a voice.

Chapter One

If Ray had known Emma was trying to get his attention, he probably would have taken his headphones off and listened to what his adopted sister had to tell him. Or maybe he would have made the music several clicks louder and tried to leave the room. The one thing he knew for certain was that he would not have turned his back on her and give her the perfect opportunity to throw her cup at him.

In her defense, it was an empty plastic cup and he barely felt it hitting the back of his head, but that didn’t mean that the reaction wasn’t a little bit of overkill.

“Earth to Ray!” She was saying. “Is there anyone up there?”

“You know I thought when you turned twenty you’d stop acting like a five year old.” Ray rolled his eyes at her.

“Is that why you base all of your children characters after me?” Emma crossed her arms as she asked this.

“They’re not all based after you,” Ray told her not for the first time. “Just the annoying ones.”

“Hey!” She narrowed his eyes at him.

“What were you trying to say to me?” He asked her.

“Oh, right,” she said. “Just if you’re going to listen to your boyfriend you might as well plug it into the speakers so you don’t kill your eardrums.”

“I’m not killing my eardrums,” Ray argued.

“Yes you are!” Yuugo shouted from the other room. “Just listen to Emma!”

Ray had the childish urge to shout back that Yuugo wasn’t his dad, but that counter argument had stopped being valid five years ago when him and his husband Lucas had legally adopted both Ray and Emma.

“Fine,” Ray relented, unplugging his headphones and tossing his phone to Emma. “Just don’t make fun of me again. It’s not like you don’t listen to them too.”

“I make fun of you ‘cause this band is literally the only thing you listen to,” Emma said flatly.

“I know what I like,” Ray shrugged before sitting next to her on their couch.

She had a point, although he was far too stubborn to recognize that out loud. Ray’s taste in music didn’t really reach farther than Lambda—or, to be more specific their lead singer and songwriter Norman Minerva.

Ray had been sixteen, coincidentally the same age as the artist himself, when he’d first heard one of Norman’s songs. It was before Ray had finished his first book, the one that only a few months later would end up making him enough money to pay off all of his adopted parents debts and ensure that him and Emma would never have to worry about landing jobs. It was back when the only thing keeping him on this earth was the fear that Emma couldn’t take another heartbreak. It was back when he felt pathetic, and alone, and hopeless.

Norman’s voice had made all of that hurt a little bit less. Norman’s lyrics had spoken to Ray in a way that music never had before. They were poetic and far more intricate than anyone gave the then teenage credit for. The melodies of the songs filled Ray’s head with thoughts that weren’t deadly, and dark, and dangerous. In a way, Norman had saved Ray.

And Ray was in love with him.

Maybe it was better to say that Ray was in love with the idea of Norman, he wasn’t delusional enough to think that it was possible to be in love with someone you’ve never met—someone who didn’t even know that you existed. Ray was in love with the voice, and the poetic mind, and the talent that was Norman Minerva.

At some point he’d get over it, he was positive of that. Maybe four years and several best sellers later he was still in the same boat he’d been in back when he first fell for that voice, but eventually it would pass. Ray didn’t mind being in love with Norman for now.

Ray was a writer. He’d been a writer ever since his first foster mom had given him a notebook and a pen and told him that if he didn’t want to talk about his feelings he could try scribbling them down. Writing had brought him the success that seemed to take everyone by surprise when he published his first book not under his name, or even a fake one, but under a string of numbers instead.

After the rather complicated story had commenced he’d added an incredibly cryptic and difficult to decode author’s note, and almost over night what felt like the entire world was demanding to know who 81194 was and what brought these ideas to his head.

This was the first time he’d been told he was talented by anyone other than Emma, Lucas, or Yuugo. It was also the first time he’d been given any sort of attention by people aside from them, and it wasn’t even him that the critics, and fans, and conspiracy theorist were so fixated on.

It was his words and his mind. He used that.

That was how his career started and how he ended up making a small fortune, being able to support the four of them easily. It was nice. Comfort had been something that he and Emma had never had or even dared to want before, and it took a few years for him to fully accept that this new life wasn’t a dream he was about to be wrenched from.

Through all of this, he still listened to Norman’s music. They seemed to both grow in the public’s eyes at the same time—no one aside from Ray and his small circle knowing that the entertainment world was being rewritten by two teenagers. Part of Ray had thought he wouldn’t need the music now that he’d found his place and had the help he needed to chase away the bad thoughts, but he’d been wrong.

Ray started all of this listening to Norman’s voice as he wrote, and somehow that music was the one thing that could soothe the tangles in his mind whenever he felt the pressure of success or fear that he was going to lose his touch.

“This reminds me,” Emma cut through his thoughts. “I know what I’m getting you for your birthday.”

“My birthday was a month ago,” he reminded her dryly. “You got me a pen.”

“It was a really cool pen,” Emma huffed. “But I’m giving you your second present now.”

“Okay,” he raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“They’re doing a meet and greet next week,” Emma gestured to the air which usually meant she was referring to whatever music was playing. “It’s a few city’s away, so I’m driving.”

“No thanks,” Ray stated.

“Oh, come on,” Emma crossed her arms. “I know you want to meet him.”

That was true. Ray did what to meet the person behind the voice that had practically saved his life. But that would make Norman a real person and not just the perfect being Ray’s head had made him into. Real people weren’t perfect, real people were full of tiny flaws that could ruin the beauty they created, and real people didn’t care about Ray.

“And we haven’t done a road trip in a long time,” Emma added. “It’ll be fun.”

“Plus you need to get out of the house more!” This time it was Lucas who called at them from the other room.

“I’m a writer,” Ray yelled back. “I’m supposed to be a shut in.”

“If you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to go, I’ll tell Gilda to cancel the tickets,” Emma informed him.

“You already bought tickets?” Ray asked.

“There’s only a limited amount of VIP ones and I’m not gonna stand in a three hour line,” Emma exclaimed in her defense. “So do you want to go or not?”

That was a hard question. Maybe seeing Norman—the real Norman—would be the kind of closure Ray needed to put this stupid crush behind him. Personally, he didn’t see the harm in being more in love with someone who had no idea he existed than someone he actually knew, but Emma and his parents were starting to nag him about how he avoided genuine relationships.

And maybe that was a bit of a problem. Ray didn’t trust people. He didn’t know how to trust anyone aside from his tiny, broken family, but it was easier to use this pretend version of love to avoid confronting that.

“Okay,” Ray said out loud. “Let’s go.”

“Yes!” Emma pumped her fist in the air. Ray made a big show of rolling his eyes at her.

It was only a week later, when he was throwing a spare change of clothes into a bag and making sure Emma had filled the car with anything they could possible need, that what he’d agreed to really set in. It was as Ray was thinking about how he hadn’t been this nervous about anything for a long time, and how he had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling, that he realized this might not have been such a good idea.

So he handled these emotions the way he handled everything. He wrote.

It wasn’t supposed to be a confession, Ray was sure someone as famous as Norman got those everyday. It wasn’t supposed to be something that was ever actually read either. Ray was certain that this man would receive a pile of fan mail at this event alone and knew that his letter would probably just sit in the middle of the stack before it was eventually tossed out.

He didn’t take offense to that. In fact, that was the best situation he could ask for. It would give him a chance to get these feelings out without having to talk to anyone.

So Ray wrote a thank you letter to the voice that had saved him. He came clean about the foolish emotions he had towards said voice, but how he wasn’t stupid enough to think that something would ever come of it.

He put the letter in an envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket. For now, he’d ignore how poetic it was that the piece of paper seemed to fall over his heart.

“Got everything?” Emma asked when he slid into the passenger seat of her car.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he reminded her. “There’s not a lot of things to forget.”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” she beamed at him as she pulled out of the driveway.

He thought about telling her about the letter, but decided against it. She’d probably want to know what he put inside of it, and Ray wasn’t sure he wanted to say any of those words out loud. They were better where they were, sitting in his jacket pocket never to see the light of day again.

—--

Norman was ready to get this over with. It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing his fans--he knew how pompous he’d sound if he said he didn’t--but it was these sort of events that always seemed to drain his energy from him, even though all he was expected to do was sign CDs and pose for selfies.

Still, it never really felt like any of this was about him. Here, fans wanted the chance to see the image he created, but the person sitting next to them with his camera-face on wasn’t the same one they’d see on stage or hear through their earbuds.

That was the real Norman. Interviews and things like this was just a chance to show off the little, small-town boy act everyone seemed to love so much. He often found himself wondering why they did when this wasn’t anything like the person who wrote the songs they listened to.

The line was supposed to open in twenty minutes. They were already all sitting at the table, even though it wasn’t the rest of the band that everyone knew these people were here to see. That was another thing that bothered Norman. Sure, they marketed him as the heartthrob, and he was the face of the band and the writer behind it, but that didn’t mean that the rest of them didn’t work just as hard as he did.

“Haven’t you already read that book?” Hayato’s voice broke through Norman’s focus.

Well, almost all of them.

Norman closed the volume he’d been trying to secretly read under the table and shot Hayato a deadpan expression before his attention shifted to their manager. Wordlessly Vincent held out his had for the book. Norman let out a sigh before handing it over.

“Sorry,” Hayato said sheepishly.

“We talked about putting distractions away,” Vincent chided Norman. He wasn’t really that annoyed, if he was he would have made sure Norman hadn’t brought the book with him in the first place. Still, Norman had agreed that once they reached where the event was being held it was time for his game face to be on.

“I know,” Norman waved him off. “I want it back after.”

“Okay,” Vincent just shook his head, a knowing look on his face.

He was probably the only person Norman actually listened to. That was one of the reasons why he was the band manager. The other reason was that after being taught how cruel the world was at such an early age, none of them had wanted adults with money and agenda to infiltrate their little circle. They could do this on their own, just their little family of kids who’d been denied exactly that.

“Yes, he’s read it before,” Vincent answered Hayato’s question.

“He’s read all of them before,” Barbra spoke up. Her feet were already on the table.

Vincent sent her a warning look but Cislo was the one who guided them off. Norman didn’t bother reminding the two of them that she’d be back to her position of undignified comfort as soon as they were distracted. That was one of the things he really liked about Barbra, she never seemed to care if she was impressing anyone. She was just herself. Norman could never be like that.

“Which is more than any of you have,” Norman crossed his arms.

“I tried to,” Hayato said in a small voice. “I got confused.”

“It’s the writing style,” Vincent commented. “There’s a lot going on.”

“It’s beautiful,” Norman said softly.

“Here he goes again,” Barbra nudged Cislo in the ribs as if Norman talking about his favorite author was some sort of big event.

It shouldn’t be. Norman talked about the mystery behind 81194 often. He talked about the tragic but gorgeous stories each book seemed to take him on. He talked about how if you took the time to piece together the notes at the end of each of them you could find an entirely different story being told. He talked about how complex and intelligent the mind behind it had to be.

And he talked about how he was in love with them.

It was stupid. It was very stupid, especially for someone as smart as Norman. No one knew anything about this person, not their age, or their gender, or where they came from.

But when Norman had stumbled upon this author’s first book he was nearly seventeen and had gone from the entire world tell him he was worthless to it worshipping him. He’d felt alone in all of the praise, because he knew it wasn’t real, and aside from the four people that had become his family, he didn’t trust anyone.

Still, as much as he cared for the others and knew they cared about him, they didn’t think like he did. That was why he was the brains, it was why he was the leader, it was why he felt so incredibly lonely.

Even though nearly all of 81194’s books ended in tragedy. Even though they were dark, and odd, and something many had found difficult to relate to, reading them made Norman feel less alone. This person’s voice made him feel less alone.

Almost three years later, Norman hadn’t exactly opened up much more to people outside of his circle. There were few he considered real friends, and the idea of having a romantic relationship was laughable. Being in love with someone he didn’t know, someone he could never have but could always turn to helped ease the hurt that came with all of that.

“I like the way it’s written,” Norman said out loud. “And a lot of people read books more than once, so I don’t see why I’m being made fun of.”

“We’re not making fun of you,” Cislo told him with a chuckle. “We think it’s cute.”

“That’s demeaning,” Norman said dryly.

“The doors are opening now,” Vincent cut the conversation off.

“Let’s get this over with,” Norman muttered.

He’d been at his favorite part too. It was a short scene where the two main characters were forced to admit that they’d been lying each other for the entire story thus far. It was the turning point of the book and never failed to give Norman chills. He supposed he’d just have to read it back in the hotel room that night.

Slowly, Norman watched the minutes tick by, not once letting anyone see how draining this really was. He wore a bright smile, grasping the hands of the excited people who came here to see him and asking their names. The faces seemed to blur by, but Norman continued to grin and chatter away with them. They came all this way to talk to him, he didn’t want to disappoint them even if the real him—the one whose songs they claimed to love—wasn’t the one laughing and talking to them.

The haze seemed to briefly stop when a boy around his age with black hair and grey eyes approached the table. He didn’t seem half as thrilled to be there as everyone else, and at first Norman thought that he was just the dutiful boyfriend accompanying the girl by his side. Then he noticed that she was the one pushing him forward and not the other way around. She seemed more bubbly, but Norman couldn’t tell if it was the idea of being near famous people of just her personality. Still, her attention was more on the boy than any of them.

“Hi.”

Given the demeanor, Norman almost didn’t expect this guy to meet his eyes, but he did—and with a stare that seemed to see so deeply inside of Norman that he almost looked away. For a second he was thrown off his guard. That usually didn’t happen, especially from just a look.

“Hey,” Norman pressed the smile back on his face. Reaching forward to sign the CD the girl had placed on the table. “Who should I make this out to?”

“Ray,” the boy uttered. “Just Ray.”

“I think I’ll leave out the ‘just,’” Norman replied. He was slipping back into the charismatic pop-star routine. “Your name’s Ray?”

“Yeah,” the boy nodded.

He didn’t exactly seem shy, so maybe he was just awkward. That was normal when meeting a celebrity. Yeah, the more Normal looked at him the more he could tell he was nervous. That was kind of cute. Usually the guys, especially the ones who weren’t teenagers, would go to further lengths of hide things like that.

He was kind of cute. Norman couldn’t tell if it was the way his choppy hair framed his face or those dark eyes, but he was definitely attractive. So was the girl behind him who was currently bouncing from foot to foot and looking at Norman with an interested, but not overly impressed expression.

“Does your girlfriend want something signed?” Norman asked. Deciding he might as well make conversation with the first people that had stuck out to him all day.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” The boy—Ray made an odd face at that.

Norman had a feeling he knew what that face meant, and since he was tired, and really wished he was still reading his book, and wanted to have a little bit of fun, he doodled a little heart next to Ray’s name before sliding the CD back to him. It was only then that he noticed the envelope in Ray’s hands.

“Is that for me?” He asked out of curiosity. It was normal for him to get gifts during these events. He already had a growing pile next to him of cards, and notes, and little baked goods.

“Yeah,” Ray reached forward, as if to drop the envelope in that pile but Norman stopped his hand and took it from him instead.

“Thanks,” he smiled at Ray and then at the girl behind him. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Ray said awkwardly before walking away and giving the next person in line their turn.

Norman tucked the envelope in his pocket.

He only remembered it was there that night when he was back in the comfort and quiet of his hotel room and getting ready to read before bed. The day had been long and the encounter had completely slipped from his mind until that moment. Usually Norman had someone else go through fan mail. If it was particularly interesting or moving they’d show it to him, but he usually found reading praise from these people who claimed to adore him a bit overwhelming.

Still, this letter intrigued him, and he didn’t have much else to do until he fell asleep so he found himself opening it anyway.

Four lines in Norman nearly fell to the floor in shock. He knew this voice.

Slowly, and with his heart hammering in his chest, Norman read the beautifully written thank you note and admission of feelings written by the nameless man he’d spent over three years silently loving.

That boy with the choppy bangs, and the grey eyes, and the completely awkward way of speaking was 81194. The mind behind books that had baffled and moved so many couldn’t be anymore than a year older Norman. The man that held that respect and admiration had come to Norman’s meet and greet—he was one of Norman’s fans. Norman knew his name, and what he looked like, and how his real voice sounded.

And he was in love with Norman.

And Norman had no idea how to find him.

Read More On A03

[afishlearningpoetry]

Looking Closer at How The Abominable Bride Foreshadowed and Can Be Used to Chronologically Decode Series 4:

Near the end of TAB, Mary asks why Emelia Ricoletti would die to prove a point. Sherlock explains in detail how the abominable bride executed her plan, ending on the note that she would need to use a spare body to fake her death and take revenge on her husband. “Every cause has martyrs, every war suicide missions. And make no mistake, this is war.”

In the closing moments of TFP, Mary answers her own question. Mary explains in detail how she as the abominable achieved her victory, ending on the note of John and Sherlock becoming myths, frozen in time as she watches over their silence. “I know you two. And if I’m gone, I know what you could become. Because I know who you really are.”

[Continue below the cut for more ➤]

See also: 10 Revealing Things From The Six Thatchers That Haunt You Late At Night, 10 Revealing Things From The Lying Detective That Haunt You Late At Night, and 10 Revealing Things From The Final Problem That Haunt You Late At Night. (#tw suicide)

Bonus: The levels to this:

This is the moment where Mary’s plan reveals itself and Moriarty’s revenge becomes complete. This is where all story lines converge, where all the themes complete themselves, and where all characters meet their end. John has weaved a lie so large that he’s desperately trying to keep it together, keep it from crumbling and revealing the truth, and his very last option is to invent a completely false ending with no resemblance whatsoever to what’s actually happening in reality. And the most devastating part is that John is the one writing it.

What’s actually happening in reality is that John was shot on screen as the camera faded to red, and it wasn’t with a tranquilizer. What’s actually happening is that John has come to the end of his Samarra story and wasn’t able to avoid the figure of Death. What’s actually happening is that everything has fallen apart because of the death of John Watson.

Before the end, before the very last correlation of “it doesn’t make sense because it’s not real,” Mary has one final thing to say before the screen cuts to black, before the story ends and the legacy of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson is secured in order to hide the real story. She wants to explain what her plan was. This is Mary the villain, the abominable bride, monologuing about what she’s accomplished. She wants to explain her evil plan.

It begins in TAB, when Sherlock is explaining to himself what the goal of the abominable bride was the whole time. His dream that this entire timeline is drawn from, the one every post in this series is base off of, takes shape around the news that Moriarty is returning just before he slips away. The abominable bride is about more things than just Moriarty, though – it’s about Sherlock, and him trying to justify to himself that he faked his death for a greater cause. It’s about Mary, who faked her death to get revenge on her husband. It’s also about John, who faked his death to outsmart everyone else into thinking he was dead.

It’s about Moriarty too, of course, and Sherlock trying to accept what Mycroft told him before he slipped into his dream. This is why the entire concept of TAB being a timeline comparable series 4 even works to begin with; because nothing specifically happens in the episode like every other one, which would just be part of a dramatic narrative or a parallel like with these specific posts. Sherlock is merely processing the same information that the audience has; it’s a reflection on what’s happened so far and an estimate of what’s to come, one that falls apart the further that Sherlock dives into his own mind.

And the cases aren’t really about Sherlock figuring out how Moriarty did it; he already knows. He admits to himself that his body was never recovered and that all you need is some fake blood. The entire episode about him running from that fear and learning to be vulnerable with John in the final moments, after which they defeat Moriarty like he’s nothing.

John doesn’t share the same vision that Sherlock does because he doesn’t know that Sherlock returns his feelings. John’s story is a dark mirror and denial of the hopeful future that Sherlock imagines. He’s not able to overcome the ghost of Mary haunting him the way that Sherlock overcomes the ghost of Moriarty. John lets Mary win because he doesn’t know how else to end it.

Sherlock begins in TAB, “All that remained was to substitute the real Mrs. Ricoletti for the corpse in the morgue.” Ghosts don’t exist in this world; save the ones we make for ourselves. All Sherlock and Irene had to do was find a proper body to make their deaths convincing. And naturally, the substitute for the real final problem is very convincing. Mary doesn’t even have a body to replace; her ashes are burned in the ending of TST, cleansed by a blue fire correlating with the blessing of a priest. Unlike Ricoletti, she isn’t dead. She’s alive. When Mary sends her last video message at the end of TFP, completely invented by John, he writes her having the last words on their legacy. She has the definitive say as the two of them sit in silence and listen. It almost sounds like an order.

“P.S. I know you two. And if I’m gone, I know who you could become. Because I know who you really are.” Mary’s death was necessary for this to happen; similar to how Moriarty faking his own death and looming over Sherlock with his return, Mary is doing the same thing in order to scare John into silence. After she fakes it, she imprisons him in his own house and drugs him. She manipulates and lies to him. “John. You’ve got to remember. It’s important. I am dead.” After an episode of Sherlock and John secretly communicating through a cheating subplot that John invented to take Mary down, Mary isn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

When Sherlock calls John, he doesn’t answer. He marches around the house in a hypnotic trance. When Sherlock visits, he’s turned away at the door, given a note from John we never see. “It’s from John.” John claims to his therapist the next episode that he and Sherlock haven’t reached out to each other, a complete lie, one that John has probably been manipulated into believing by Mary.

So Sherlock’s mission in TLD becomes not just one to save John Watson, but save him according to the deductions that John left him in that note and get him out of that house. Mary’s success in manipulating John relies on their silence. Their inability to communicate, because Mary has cut it off. Then they can’t interrupt her as she tells them that she knows who they are; she knows that her dying was necessary for this to happen; she knows what she can make out of them, what she can mold from John’s scattered mind. He’s aware of this because he’s writing it.

Sherlock in TAB continues, “This time, should anyone attempt to identify her, it would be absolutely, positively her.” This is how Ricoletti was able to pull off the crime, with the help of an accomplice and a spare body. Sherlock is already setting up a contrast between himself and Moriarty, and consequently Mary. He’s suspected this whole time that he’s been alive but was desperate to believe that he eliminated Moriarty’s network so he could be back with John again. He did all of this, he faked his death and arranged a look-a-like body so that he could sacrifice himself and his relationship with John for a greater cause. He has to believe that he did this for a reason, that he won, that Moriarty isn’t coming back. Later in the scene Sherlock will start addressing Lady Carmichael only for Moriarty to pull back the veil and force him to confront the truth.

Mary can’t be identified because she died and her ashes were burned, something that John will claim despite it not being true. John can’t be accused of the crime because everyone agrees on the story that Mary went to the aquarium before him, a conversation she can’t testify to. John’s story is designe to be airtight and clean, as sterile as a perfect crime scene, but you start tugging at any suspicious thread, and the whole thing starts to come apart under scrutiny.

“Will you listen to me? Who you are, it doesn’t really matter. It’s about the legend, the stories, the adventure.”

John’s blog this season is all about hiding the true story underneath in retelling the narrative and meta-narrative of the canon. In the show, John’s blog is not important for making them famous, for detailing any of their cases or creating fanclubs around the world, what really matters about it is how it reflects John and Sherlock’s relationship. John wears his heart on his sleeve, but doesn’t understand that Sherlock loves him back, which causes Sherlock to lash out and insult it, hurting John’s feelings. How could Sherlock read his blog and not notice how John feels? How could the world’s only consulting detective not pick up on how obvious and transparent John feels? John is always trying to rationalize this as either not noticing or noticing and simply not caring, and nearly the whole time Sherlock has been trying to protect him from Moriarty. Protect him from Magnussen. Protect him from Mary. And he doesn’t see it. The legend, the myth, is all a front; it’s part of the same lie. The lie that John is retelling now as the death of the story and the death of John as the author.

Mary erases all of this by telling them none of it matters. It doesn’t matter that John doesn’t post about anything after the wedding, and then lies his ass off about everything being perfect at the beginning of TST. It doesn’t matter that Sherlock overdosed because he thought he was never going to see John again. It doesn’t matter how she really died, if Mary Morstan ever existed at all (she didn’t). It doesn’t matter that John thinks they had an affair, which affects every single part of how he write series 4; all that matters is the lie. Maintain the lie and keep the story going until it ends here, at its logical conclusion, at its natural death as the whole scene gargles on itself, choking on the lies that just keep stacking on top of each other as Mary assures them that it’s fine. This is how it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t matter who they are, what they feel, or who they love. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Tell another adventure. Everything will always be this and always end, here, this way.

Mary asks her question, setting herself up to answer it. “But why would she do that?” Sherlock is trying to contrast himself with Mary here; he would do all this to protect John from Moriarty, but Mary wouldn’t. She would shoot his best friend but she wouldn’t make the same kind of personal sacrifice that he did. Because if Mary loves John at all, which she doesn’t, then it has to be a selfish love. A possession, an end to the facade. And that’s exactly what Mary does to him in series 4; lies to him, forces him to maintain the lie, coverup her death until he’s completely isolated and alone, and she can complete her mission as puppetmaster. Her mission is to burn Sherlock’s heart out forever, and his heart is John. But they could have killed John at any point. What they want to do is make John kill himself. The ultimate revenge. The ultimate pain.

John lies through Mary. He forces her to speak the lie out loud so he doesn’t have to. “When all else fails, there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat like they've always been there, and they always will.“ But Mary tried to kill John; he knows full well that this ending is impossible, that Mary wanted to stop it from happening. At the same time this false ending is only happening because of her, because he’s trying to make his death convincing, and when the news comes out, everyone will look back on these blogs and remember the clues he left about what happened to him. This is also, despite everything grim about the context surrounding John writing this ending, the best that John thinks he could possibly hope for. This is the happiest that he thinks he’s going to get; trapped in the same cycle of shame and silence that he’s been dancing in ever since he met Sherlock. Death might be more compassionate, because then it would be over for John, but instead he’s forced to relive it over and over, repeating the same lie to the public.

When Mary finally answers her question, “Die to prove a point?”, it finally, fully illustrates the end goal of her plan. It happens in the closing seconds of TFP, as the video of her fades, looking over John and Sherlock running off on another adventure. So that she could watch over their silence forever.  “The best and wisest men I have ever known. My baker street boys. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”

Sherock is also driving a decisive contrast here, again; to Mary, Sherlock faking his death was just “proving a point”, a flippant comment, proving that he could do it if he wanted to, not grasping that he did all of it for John. He pretended to be dead for two years and suffered and worked tirelessly with some added torture so that he could come to John. When Mary does it, it being to “prove a point” is a much more succinct description. She did it to mold John into what she wanted. She did it to hurt them. To hurt both of them. Sherlock did it out of selflessness and sacrifice and his love for John. Sherlock also wanted to belive that his sacrifice eventually meant something, and it did; it taught him to be open with John about how he feels, and that’s what leads to the happy ending, where they’re on the falls together, as they always should have been.

When John finishes the episode on this note, it’s not a question anymore. It’s a conclusion. This is why she did it. This is why it’s happening. This is all a lie.

As John writes that who he is doesn’t really matter, all that matters is the stories, the stories he keeps in his blog that people are now mistaking for being Sherlock’s anyway, the emotions that he’s writing are all very real. Everything in series 4 can be read by how he’s feeling and what he’s doing. That’s what makes his botched death so convincing in the end. But even knowing that that’s the plan, the way that the the episode ends on the note that she won... it feels like watching the show die in real time.

John hasn’t given up in the real world. This is all part of his plan. But it does feel like Mary has won in how John is conceding that this is the best ending that John could ever hope for. No one else ever knowing, ever understanding how he feels, ever seeing just how much he loves Sherlock, as he works completely on his own, lying through his teeth before the screen cuts to black.

“Of course it doesn’t make sense, it’s not real.”

[ridiasfangirlings]

So I've seen all the LSW movie now and I have Thoughts and it's been a while since I did any kind of anime review so I just had to type this up.

(Note 1: No, I'm not sharing any links to where to find it. I know there's a less-than-legal link floating around that you can find on Tumblr in the tag if you look around. I actually used Google Chrome and a VPN to rent LSW for 500 yen for two days from the official Bandai Channel site linked here.)

(Note 2: The entire thing has not been subbed yet as far as I know. My knowledge of Japanese is spotty at best especially when it comes to listening rather than reading, but I've read the novel translations and the manga enough that even without subs I have a pretty good idea of what's going on.)

-We open on Fushimi's rainy Scepter 4 induction ceremony that was shown in the trailer. I suddenly remember how in the novel it's mentioned that the raindrops don't hit Munakata because of his King powers and it makes the part in MK where he has Awashima holding an umbrella for him while everyone else gets soaked that much more peak troll.

-There's this weird computer-y thing as Fushimi closes his eyes and I don't know if it quite works for me? This isn't jungle guys, the Blues can just be fancy in the rain, it's cool.

-Fushimi takes the sword and they totally cut out Saru snarking back at Munakata about the whole 'pride and pledge and such isn't really necessary.' I wanted to see Fushimi being a little shit why do you deny me.

-They also cut out Fushimi seeing Yata's hand reaching for the sword, instead we only have Fushimi taking it as he voiceovers the whole 'The first King said take this hand. The second King said take this sword.' The background also gets all computer-y again and it looks a little cheap and weird? This is not the first strange decision this movie will be making.

-Then that weird kid from the sixth movie promo material who looks like he escaped from Handshakers and has pokeballs for eyes says something profound-ish, etc etc TIME FOR MIDDLE SCHOOL BABIES.

-We cut to Yata on the toilet. Not what it sounds like I swear.

-Middle school Misaki so cute and dissatisfied as he hides in the bathroom. He spots something in the next stall and climbs up to look, like Romeo ascending Juliet's toilet balcony or somesuch.

-Fushimi is also on the toilet. Also not what it sounds like.

-Flirting ensues, with Yata being cute and enthusiastic and Fushimi playing hard to get by yelling at him to go away. Ah, young love.

-Yata mentions his phone has been getting weird messages due to jungle. That's called spam, Yata-chan, and you're probably too young to be reading anything that has a lot of xs in the subject line.

-Triumphant video game music plays as Fushimi's voice gets all excited and he lets Yata come over to watch him, which is when we see poor baby has a bruise from being beaten up by upperclassmen. (I'd say that's what happens without Yata there to save him but he probably ended up getting beaten less in the movie than the novel precisely because of that XD)

-They've known each other for like two minutes and already Yata wants to beat people up to defend Fushimi's honor.

-Fushimi proceeds to beat his opponent in jcube while Yata yells about how amazing it is and we get that 'this guy is scary...but amazing' moment, aka the actual exact moment where Yata falls totally in love.

-Fushimi's triumphant smile gives me life.

-Cue Yata walking to school. We don't really get any exact passage of time indications here but I like to assume this was at least a few days later – Fushimi's still a bit standoffish but Yata has clearly already officially adopted him as New Best Friend.

-Yata gets Aya's letter in his locker and proceeds to show us all that yes, he can get even cuter than he already was.

-He goes running after Fushimi and there's this weird slo-mo thing for a moment? I feel like if we're going for that there should be like romantic music playing or something.

-Other students stare at them, wondering if these two are really going continue to be this gay in public. (Spoiler alert: yes. Yes they are.)

-And then Aya tackle-hugs Yata. I really like her voice, it sounds super cutesy in just the right affected way, and even the big anime eyes work well for her character (since I get the impression from the novel she's supposed to look young). Also that 'Mi-sa-ki-pyuun!' is so cute.

-'You know what would be completely gratuitous?' 'What?' 'If instead of Aya wearing pumpkin pants like she explicitly says she is in the novel, we put in a middle schooler pantyshot.' 'Great idea!' -Gora, probably.

-Yata hides behind Fushimi because he too has had enough of this fanservice.

-Yata tries to use Fushimi as his totally heterosexual excuse to get away from the scary girl and Aya's voice becomes noticeably less high pitched and cutesy as she talks to Fushimi. I think they did a good job with showing the shift in the way she talks to Fushimi versus how she speaks to Yata.

-Aya tells Yata about the jungle mission and then shows him all the hateful messages she received. Yata looks away and we see his own phone, with the mean chat messages his 'friends' exchanged about him. The former Yata team still sucks and are not even worthy of showing up in this movie.

-Yata adorably clings to Fushimi and have I mentioned he is adorable because I'm dying here.

-So our trio heads out to summon the airship. Aya shows Yata the program she created to decode jungle's hints and Fushimi noticeably sighs and walks away when Yata calls it 'cool.' Someone's jealous~

-Aya's mom calls and Yata takes the opportunity to go talk with Fushimi. This part is really abbreviated from the novel, with Fushimi only confirming that Aya's his cousin before Aya breaks in to ask Yata to talk to her mom, so we don't get any of the family talk between them. I get that there was no way the movie could fit everything in but I think it's an unfortunate loss that will pretty much continue throughout the movie – Yata's backstory gets really shafted here, continuing the trend of LSW tending to be more about Fushimi than about both Fushimi and Yata as it should be.

-Yata's face as he starts his girl impersonation, I can't. Fukujun's female voice sounds like an old woman, Aya is cracking up and so am I, this is beautiful.

-And Fushimi laughs. I think I like how the manga did this one better, in the movie it seems more like mocking laughter than real happy laughter that I think it's supposed to be, and it felt more like he was trying to suppress it. Basically even though Aya's like 'Fushimi's laughing?' I don't get the impression that this is supposed to be a rare event, which I think the novel was intending and which for me the manga managed to convey.

-They spot the airship in the distance and Fushimi starts recalculating the position as Yata stares in awe and Aya gets annoyed. No smiley face like in the novel though, alas.

-Fushimi's ready to give up on chasing the airship but of course Yata's fired up now, and the bicycle built for three kicks off in hot pursuit. Yata strains to peddle even though you know Aya and Fushimi combined probably weigh like barely anything.

-Of course they still can't catch up and we get that 'If we'd gotten on...would anything change?' I feel like the visuals let this moment down a little – the manga was more dynamic here – but Mamoru Miyano's voice acting almost makes up for it, with just a slight undercurrent of longing underneath the tone.

-'A different world?' Yes Yata, you would have seen a different world where an immortal man has an airship complete with its own Real Doll or whatever that thing Colorless was dancing with in S1 was. Maybe it's better they missed the airship.

-Another cut straight to Yata in front of Fushimi's house. Again this makes sense to cut everything before it to streamline things, but I'm sad to lose Aya's comments on Fushimi's family and the mention of him being home when the house got robbed.

-Precious sick baby Saru coughing as he works on what is clearly meant to be Yata's watch. Someone's already got a crush.

-We get the whole 'Yata taking care of sick Fushimi' part and I love everything this scene chooses to be, Fushimi is just so precious and confused as to why Yata's there taking care of him. Also huge props to Mamoru Miyano because the voice acting in this scene is adorable, every little 'Yataaa' makes my heart go doki doki.

-The last time Yata goes back to check on him and Fushimi is sitting up and looking so shocked and amazed because Yata came when he called and he's being loved and taken care of and no one has ever done that before someone hold me my heart can't take this.

-Yata makes Fushimi food and then falls asleep and it's all so wonderful and sweet gosh I hope a raging asshole doesn't show up to ruin it all.

-'Who are you?' One raging asshole, right on time.

-Niki's voice...isn't really what I was expecting? It's a bit deep in a way that I'm not sure works for me... I mean, he does sound like he needs to be punched in the face so that's spot on. As far as Nikis go though I think I give stage play Niki the edge as far as how I imagined him sounding.

-Niki threatens to stuff a mantis in Yata's mouth and we hear the sounds of poor sick baby Fushimi stumbling his way through the giant house as fast as he can go, likely falling over things and breathing hard and just terrified because he needs to get Yata away from his asshole trash king father now.

-And Fushimi absolutely screams at Niki to shut up and it's beautiful and painful and this entire scene just makes me want to kidnap him and save him from his terrible dad.

-Niki's laugh is just kinda there too, like anime!Niki doesn't quite manage that distinctive 'gyahaha' that stage play Niki did so well.

-Fushimi outside with Yata and again the voice acting is so good, that desperate little 'Yata!' and then the hesitant, stumbling attempts at thanking Yata when Fushimi's never thanked anyone before. My heart.

-Yata says he'll see Fushimi at school and Fushimi smiles and I just...precious baby. Must protect.

-Of course this beauty couldn't last forever and Fushimi's face falls as he has to go back inside to face the piece of unburnable trash sitting on the stairs. This is the one place Niki's voice 100% worked for me – that 'Saruhiko! Asoboze~' was just chilling.

-And we begin part two, with Yata and Fushimi hanging out on the street where they'll shortly meet Mikoto. Yata mom gets cheated out of not just a name but a cameo animated appearance too, why this Gora.

-They use a mix of old and new animation for this part – Yata drinking and then throwing the drink is clearly the exact animation from S1 but Mikoto catching it has been newly animated. That's probably for the best – the bigger eyes work well enough with Fushimi and Yata, since they're supposed to be kids, but there would be a pretty obvious difference between the old and new styles with Mikoto. (I think Mikoto looking back at them might be from S1 though...honestly this just makes me miss the S1 animation style again.)

-Cut to Fushimi getting yelled at for having his phone out in class. Fushimi of course gives no fucks and walks right out, and Yata runs after him while their teacher is completely done with this level of gay.

-I don't really like how those last two scenes went flow-wise, it feels kinda abrupt? The scene with Sarumi meeting Homra continues to feel shoved in and awkwardly out of place even in its own movie, and having nothing to really indicate the passing of time between Yata visiting Fushimi at his home to the two of them on the street and then back to class makes things feel choppy to me here. I assume they rearranged things from the novel for time reasons but it definitely feels shuffled around.

-Yata asks if Fushimi's going home and says he'll go too, and Fushimi has this little '...sorry' moment that's adorable, especially when Yata proceeds to put a hand on his shoulder and smiles and I think this movie is as in love with Yata as Fushimi is, every scene of him smiling is so bright.

-Yata mentions that they're third years already, finally giving some indication of how time moves in this movie thank you Yata.

-Fushimi pulls up jungle, showing Yata pictures that jungle's managed to take of various Homra members as part of a mission. I'm just concerned that someone is stalking Kusanagi.

-They discuss the rumors of the 'Red Monster' as images of Mikoto looking scary cross the screen. My favorite part of this is when they show Mikoto and the Homra members in silhouette with glowing red eyes looking all ominous, except one of the silhouettes is clearly Totsuka and I'm pretty sure the worst he's gonna do to you guys is ask if you want to help him with a hobby.

-We also get a close up of glowing eyes Fujishima. Did someone kick a dog in his presence, or...?

-Yata proposes to Fushimi talks about how they should get a place together and we get a quick flash of Niki looking like an asshole, which is his specialty. 'You don't need a home like that.'

-Yata says their place should have a helicopter pad and suddenly we're in Yata vision with an adorable cartoony plane rising up from a hidden door and just when you thought Yata couldn't be cuter.

-...Followed by Fushimi vision which is basically a mad science lab featuring human-like organisms in glowing pods. The chuunibyou is strong.

-The two of them walk off discussing plans and being in love as Aya stares down from the window, wondering why she's even in this movie again.

-Back to the Fushimi House of Shitty Parents, with Kisa making her cameo. Her character design is just way too....soft, I think, for my tastes. I feel like the manga did the better job of portraying a beautiful but cold and professional woman. Also she's got a hedgehog on her shoulder (or it's some kind of fluffy necklace thing, idk, it's weird why is it there why isn't she in her party dress like she should be).

-Her voice feels a little too pleasant for me too, though it does shift slightly colder when she gets off the phone and starts talking to Fushimi.

-Also while on the one hand the front of the house being wide and empty fits, since we know they don't keep anything valuable where people can see, the background here feels a bit...off? Like at one point we see these huge open doorways behind Fushimi and Kisa and it looks like they live in a fucking museum or something, like there's 'rich person's house' and 'no one actually has a house that looks like this.'

-Kisa tells Fushimi his dad is in the hospital and leaves, her cameo appearance over for the day. She still got more screentime than Yata's mom.

-Fushimi thinks about Niki's illness and then smiles and laughs, as we all should.

-Back to school, and Aya is pissed at Fushimi only being in 45th place in exams and that he isn't competing with her, because once again Fushimi gives no fucks he's moving in with his boyfriend and doesn't need no education.

-Aya mentions getting into Tsubakigahara high school and Fushimi cleans his glasses, reminding me that I wish we'd gotten to see Aya in her glasses animated.

-'Have you ever listened to me with your eyes sparkling and saying 'amazing'?' And Fushimi walks right past her because he doesn't want a rival, he wants someone who will look at him as he is and think that he's worth something, that he's amazing from the point of view beyond just what society expects.

-And Aya scores a direct hit with her backpack! Throwing things at people must run in the Fushimi family.

-Fushimi says he doesn't hate Aya and for a moment she stares at him with romance in her eyes....and then he kicks her backpack right back in her face. Such a smooth talker. At least they resisted the urge to put in another pantyshot there.

-Cut to the Sarumi Apartment of Love. The quick pan up the building makes it feel like they should be on the top floor even though we know from the novel it's a first floor apartment. Also the building looks a bit too fancy for me, considering their apartment's supposed to be cheap and purchased via an underworld-type realtor.

-Yata shows off his skateboard tricks and Fushimi is not interested. He's just playing hard to get again.

-Yata and Fushimi plan their attack on the surprise party and are so cute and hopeful and it's depressing knowing this is really the beginning of the end of their sense of invincibility.

-KNUCKLE BUMP!

-Also please note Fushimi's loft is big enough that Yata can like climb right up there with him and there's plenty of room for things like for example making out if the two of them wanted to do such things you know just saying.

-The night of the surprise party. Dewa and Chitose get to make appearances trying to disperse the crowd as Yata waits on top of the roof and Fushimi runs the computers while wearing a cute stripey blanket.

-They discuss the plan as tiny CGI people hang out around Homra. It looks like the bar is being attacked by rogue escapees from a Sims game (new plan: Yata leads them to the nearest pool and Fushimi removes the ladder).

-Fushimi is still wearing a stripey blanket on his head, and he is adorable. Just to make note of the important things.

-Fushimi begins the hacking mission as everyone puts on freaky-ass masks. Did Hisui have a coupon for the local freaky mask shop or something? Was this a wholesale deal?

-The jungle kids start shooting off party poppers. Sensing a threat to his bar counter, Kusanagi finally makes an appearance.

-Fushimi sends out a fake mail to indicate jungle's having server issues and we see Aya in the crowd, which makes you think her presence here is going to be important. Spoiler alert: unlike in the novel, her presence has no payoff and means nothing.

-Yata dons his own freaky mask and skateboards into the fray. His acting is slightly less bad than I expected it to be but Fushimi still facepalms over it.

-Fushimi's terminal sparks green and a tiny avatar appears in the corner. I think I liked the manga interpretation of Hisui's avatar guy better, there he was just a faceless completely unassuming avatar and here it's a little guy in a suit and glasses who looks more distinctive. I do like the way his voice is computerized but still obviously Hisui under it, which gets more pronounced the more he talks.

-At the end when the avatar goes all demony, I think this is another point for the manga which actually looked scary, businessman-avatar looks a bit more on the silly side. Though for Fushimi it was probably creepy either way (also it makes me wonder about Hisui on the other end of that transmission turning his avatar into a scary demon while his parrot eats his hair).

-Fushimi pulls the plug on his computer and then is off and running, yelling Yata's name over and over again, just so desperate to be sure Yata's all right.

-”Saruhiko!” “Misaki!” My heart.

-Yata drags Fushimi into a corner and Fushimi has that 'it's our—my loss' moment before they suddenly get attacked by party poppers again. One hits close to Fushimi's eye but it's just a random hit, which makes me wonder why they bothered even showing Aya before.

-I love Fushimi dragging Yata away here – he sounds just so harried, like here he's lost and he wasn't superior at all, and even worse he's put Misaki in danger and he just has no idea what to do.

-More fireworks come flying at them as Mikoto makes his grand appearance at last, in a giant ball of flame.

-I feel like the blocking of this scene was really weird, it seems like Fushimi and Yata should have been being swarmed by masked people but in order to save animation budget they just had random firecrackers flying around and then all of a sudden Saru's being dragged off by fangirls enemies. I wish it had been a little more frantic.

-Yata running towards Mikoto while yelling at him to save Saruhiko was perfect though, he's just so terrified for Fushimi's sake.

-I really loved the whole scene of Mikoto saving Fushimi, the way Fushimi looks up as the fire rains down and then Totsuka coming up behind him and holding him as lovely music plays, the atmosphere was so lovely (….though it kinda made me suddenly want some TotsuFushi. Just a little).

-Totsuka keeps hugging Fushimi, doing what we all wish we could.

-And we finally get a proper Sarumi hug! If nothing else at least the anime didn't punk out with a leg hug, we got a real hug this time.

-Fushimi and Yata head home in failure. Fushimi clenches his fist and you can see bruises on his fingers, my poor child.

-Back to the hospital where ding dong the dick is dead. The manga only implied that Kisa was a terrible mother who made her middle school age son collect his dead dad's body, the anime nicely confirms it by having her call Fushimi and tell him to do it.

-The manga was a little more abrupt and creepy with this scene, where Fushimi briefly sees Niki sitting up and mocking him. Even dead Niki is punchable.

-Also I like how even dead Niki's hair is perfectly styled. Are those bangs natural or what?

-Fushimi loses it and starts yelling at a corpse. It's almost like making your traumatized and abused middle schooler son retrieve his dad's dead body was a bad idea or something.

-A rubix cube falls from Niki's hand and--

-And--

-H E L P M E

-HE'S SO CUTE

-L O O K A T H I M

-HE HAS A TINY BOWTIE AND LITTLE NERD GLASSES LOOK AT HIS SMOL HANDS I LOVE HIM

-Only a true piece of utter trash could upset such a pure baby

-D I E

-Okay, things that aren't baby Saru, right, there's still movie left.

-Yata and Aya talk in the rain, I'm mostly distracted by how cute Yata looks in a poncho.

-It feels a little depressing that the last we see of Aya is her sobbing in the rain. I don't think the novel's resolution for her was the best either but at least there was something like closure.

-'The first King said take this hand. The second King said take this sword.' Fushimi voiceovers once again as Yata and Fushimi stand side by side in front of Mikoto at Bar Homra. They reach for Mikoto's flaming hands and...roll credits. Wait, roll credits?

-So yeah the entire back half of the novel isn't in the movie, it ends with Sarumi joining Homra. I wonder how this plays to people who haven't read the novel, because to me it very much feels like this is a narrative without an actual ending. I think they tried to make a parallel with the 'take this hand/take this sword' part but without the latter half of the novel the opening scene actually feels somewhat out of place to me, like it has no real relation to the rest of the movie (I almost feel like since they were messing with the novel anyway they should have started the movie with Yata and Fushimi reaching for Mikoto's hand, then backtracking to how we got to this point and finally jumping forward just as Fushimi's hand is about to take Mikoto's and suddenly have him reaching for the sword instead, looking to the side as Yata's phantom hand next to him fades away).

-I think they were in somewhat of a difficult position with LSW because the novel's too long for the movie they were making so some things had to be cut – and to be fair I have no idea how I would get the whole novel into a movie of this length either – but I can't deny it doesn't suffer for losing that back half. LSW is the story of how Yata and Fushimi met and then how they broke apart, and the movie to me feels like it's building towards a resolution that doesn't happen. In that sense starting the movie with the Homra installation rather than S4 might have worked better, restructuring the source material so it's more focused around how the two of them became friends and joined Homra with only the hovering specter of future betrayal at the end.

-Similarly, as far as dropped plot threads go, I liked seeing Aya animated but she feels somewhat... extraneous in the movie as it is. Her presence is mainly necessary for kickstarting the airship plot but as the movie stands that's it, and her arc feels rushed with a lot of pointless moments – having her be at the surprise party, for example, but not having her attack Fushimi and then cutting out the two of them speaking at Niki's funeral and Aya talking about being Fushimi's enemy, all of which ultimately makes her appearance there in the movie be without any real payoff. It also means her final interaction in the movie is with Yata rather than Fushimi, even though her character is more of a foil for Fushimi than Yata and her relationship with him more complex.

-Other things they cut I didn't like: no anthill? Seeing babu Saru with the rubix cube was fine enough and I do think the movie made it pretty clear that Fushimi was being abused, but the anthill is so essential to Fushimi's worldview that I feel losing it downplays some of his trauma a bit. As sad as poor upset Fushimi's face was when Niki destroyed the rubix cube it really doesn't carry the punch that this image does:

-Also this was a weakness in the novel too but once again, Yata gets really shafted by LSW. In the novel he at least has some presence in the first part of the novel but the movie completely removes everything about feeling left out of his family and even the part where he finds out his 'friends' hate him is a lot more downplayed than in the novel. A lot of what we see of Yata feels like it's from Fushimi's view, all those dazzling smiles, and it's wonderful from that perspective but I wish we'd gotten a little more of Yata's inner life here.

-On the good end, I am glad we at least got what we did of animated LSW. Middle school Yata is an utter gem of adorableness and I am so thankful to have him. The voice acting was also really great, Fukujun and Mamo knocked it out of the part (best in show probably goes to Mamo's 'Yataaa' during the scene where he's sick in bed, that was absolutely precious). Niki was complete trash in just the right way and I think the movie did a good job in conveying the dread and fear Fushimi feels towards him. If I had to rank adaptations I would probably put the anime last after the manga and the stage play but it's still a good watch and I'm looking forward to actually being able to, y'know, watch a nice legal stream with subs and then actually be able to buy it on disc some time in the next decade whenever Viz finally stops being jerks and give people who can't go running across the country to random cons on half a week's notice a chance to watch.

[ncfan-1]

Rewriting Malachor V

If you’ve played KOTOR II like I have, especially if you’ve played it more than once, the Malachor V stage, which was atmospheric and appropriately creepy on first play, gets a bit… tedious on replays, especially if you’re playing without the Restored Content Mod. It doesn’t feel like a stage the way the other planets do. It just feels like an endless boss fight that drags on and on and on, with little to punctuate it, and it just gets… boring. What’s worse is that, while the companions do get a couple of moments to shine, they aren’t allowed to do very much, which given the amount of emphasis the game puts on the Exile’s relationships with these people and on their importance in general, really isn’t good. And I understand that a lot of this is a natural consequence of the fact that Obsidian just wasn’t allowed the time they needed to finish this game, but I’ve thought of some ways the Malachor V stage could be made more interesting, could put more focus on the companions, and be made to feel more like a planetary stage the way the others were.

This post assumes an LS Exile (Since I’ve never played the Exile DS and the idea of doing so holds no interest for me). Also, since I’ve only played as a female Exile, I’m wary of modding my game too much, and I have no interest in playing as a male Exile, I have relatively little familiarity with Brianna. I know about her, don’t get me wrong, I’ve read through the Jedi Jesus Let’s Play and I’ve seen other posts about her, but while I can think of a couple of ways she could contribute here, there are probably other people who could think of more things for her to do here. So, with that in mind:

First, some general notes:

- The enemies you encounter on the surface of Malachor V should be diversified. If the game really wants us to believe that the planet is still inhabitable after everything that happened to us, there should be more than one type of hostile animal on the surface. There should also be, like, Sith outposts or listening posts on the surface of the planet, where they monitor the skies for any evidence that hostile ships have come to attack the Academy. The hierarchy of enemies on the surface (excepting Hanharr and the beast you find in the giant pen—more on that later) should go like this:

two or three smaller beasts, with roughly the same toughness as the tuk’ata you find on Korriban -> the storm beasts, which appear more rarely than the smaller beasts, and should probably not be allowed to deal out 100 in damage in one hit -> non-Force-sensitive Sith officers, more common than the storm beasts but less common than the smaller beasts -> Dark Jedi, much less common -> Sith lord, extremely uncommon; you run into maybe two or three of them across the whole surface of Malachor V.

- This is a Doylist gripe and perhaps not entirely realistic from a Watsonian perspective, but when dead enemies drop loot, they don’t drop credits. After all, what’s the point? This is the last stop in the game and it’s not like there’s a merchant here. Instead, the enemies drop (in the case of Force-wielders) lightsabers, armor, robes, useful items, and lightsaber crystals appropriate to the character’s level. Also health packs. Lots and lots of health packs (Though to be fair, they do that already). Some of them drop datapads for mini-quest-relevant information, or other quest items.

So, about Malachor V…:

- First, the prelude. On the way over to Malachor V, while the Exile is sleeping or meditating or something, the non-droid companions have a meeting. Basically, they know that the Exile is planning on heading out to confront Kreia by herself, that she’s trying both to shield them from the danger and trying to draw away from them because even if what the Jedi Masters said to her on Dantooine was myopic, blinded-by-fear-and-ignorance-bullshit, it’s still wormed its way into her head and she’s afraid of unconsciously manipulating her companions—and leading them to their deaths against their will.

But this is a game where free will is important, and if you’re playing as a Light Side Exile, it really doesn’t look as though she’s been psychically dominating her companions. They all have their reasons to go to her and their reasons to stay with her that can’t be explained that way. It’s not as though she hasn’t been influencing them in any way at all—see the conversation she can have with Mira, noting that even though Mira has avowed her refusal to kill, she’s been killing without compunction since joining up with the Exile—but for the most part, this influence is above-board. None of them are at all interested in letting the Exile go it alone on Malachor V.

- The Ebon Hawk crashes on the surface of Malachor V as per canon. While the ship is crashing, the loading ramp is forced open and, while trying to get it shut again, Mira is sucked out of the ship, thus explaining why she wakes up on the ground so far below the Ebon Hawk. Everyone asides from the droids is knocked unconscious in the crash, and wake up at differing points.

- Remote isn’t knocked out and sets out immediately to fulfill Bao-Dur’s orders. In this version, since Remote is heading out before the Exile has the chance to clear the area of any storm beasts, Remote has a bit more combat and defensive capability; Bao-Dur’s upgrades actually amount to something here. It can move faster than in canon, its shots pack a bit more punch (though it’s not the powerhouse T3-M4 can potentially be with his shock arm). Remote still has to sneak past the storm beasts, but the Sith won’t bother with it since it’s just a droid, and it can move fast enough to outrun the smaller beasts on the surface of the planet.

Past this, Remote’s mission plays out the same as in canon. Once it activates all the Republic warships, G0-T0 shows up and menaces it. At that point, HK-47 shows up because G0-T0 needs a killin’ and no way is he going to let anyone else handle that job. The HK-51s show up and, depending on whether HK-47 was able to program them to be loyal to him, he either has to fight them or they fight by his side when killing G0-T0. Upon dispatching G0-T0, HK-47 (and the HK-51s, if they’re loyal to him) heads back to the Ebon Hawk to make sure his escape route is kept safe.

- One by one, the non-droid companions wake up, and they start to carry out their own mini-quests before reaching Malachor V. In this case, each group must disable and/or destroy a Sith outpost they run into on the way to the Trayus Academy. At any point, if anyone asides from the Exile dies, they die permanently. If one member of a party dies but the rest lives, they don’t wake up at the end of the fight. If the whole party dies, you aren’t prompted to reload your last save game; it just skips to the next segment. Obviously, you can go into the load game list and reload your last save game to keep them alive, but I thought this feature might add a bit more weight to what is supposed to be one of the most evil, dangerous places in the galaxy, as well add more weight to the last stage of the game.

- Mira wakes up first, and we get the little cut scene about her commenting on the scenery, before it switches back to the next segment.

- Atton and Mical both wake up at around the same time. Their dialogue as they fight their way across the surface of Malachor might be strained sniping or it might be reflective of a tentative, uneasy camaraderie, depending on the way the Exile has treated them both through the course of the game, how much influence she has with them both, and just how far up the Light Side scale she, and by extension, them, is. When they reach the outpost, there should be an opportunity for some drama. Maybe somebody recognizes Atton as a Sith deserter, or maybe Mical recognizes someone he knew from his time as an initiate at the Dantooine Enclave. They take control of the outpost, and we cut to the next segment.

- Canderous, Visas, and Brianna (if you have her in the party) wake up next. This time, it’s Canderous helping Visas get up, to bookend their last exchange on the Ravager before they blew that ship to hell. Canderous and Visas’s dialogue reflects the camaraderie they formed on the Ravager, reflects their significantly improved relationship, maybe reflects the echoes of Revan Canderous sees in Visas. If Brianna’s in the party, her dialogue with Visas runs along the same lines as the dialogue Atton and Mical can potentially have. They have the opportunity to slice into the computer system in the outpost and with a high enough Computer Use and Security skill, decode some journal entries by the officer in charge of the outpost about transmissions coming from somewhere out further in the Unknown Regions. They blow up their designated outpost, and we cut to Mira’s segment.

- When Mira gets to and takes control of her outpost, she discovers a spaceship with a working hyperdrive in a hangar, and part of her “take over the outpost” mini-quest involves finding a code to get the hangar bay doors open so that the ship could potentially leave Malachor V if needed. This will potentially be important for later, and is a mandatory part of the mini-quest; Mira isn’t allowed to step outside the outpost until she's done this. When Mira steps outside the outpost, she confronts Hanharr as per canon, fighting and defeating him, and convincing him to take her to Kreia.

- When the Exile wakes up, it’s only her, Bao-Dur, and T3-M4 on the ship—HK-47 hasn’t gotten back yet. The Exile wakes Bao-Dur up and orders him and T3 to stay with the ship, because she needs to find the others, and because “[they] need to get away quickly once [her] business [there] is done.”

Malachor V is, for the Exile, like the tomb of Ludo Kressh on Korriban, except even worse. Part of it is the powerful Dark Side energy of the planet, part of it is the Exile’s PTSD, but she’s seeing Force visions (and possible hallucinations; it quickly gets to the point where it’s impossible to tell which is which) everywhere she goes. None of them attack her the way the visions in the tomb did, but she sees Jedi who were at the Battle of Malachor V dying in agony, she sees flashes of Revan masked and cloaked that disappear when she comes close, flashes of Malak whispering promises of power and answers, she sees a faceless figure writing in agony before becoming a void of stars and dark matter and unceasing hunger. And the storm beasts seem drawn to her as if she was emitting some sort of homing signal…

The Sith don’t attack her. Similar to the Sith Assassins outside the Academy doors, they treat her with a level of deference that is frankly disturbing.

- All the Kreia-Sion dialogues play out as they do in canon.

- The beast in the pen outside of the Trayus Academy isn’t a greater storm beast, because part of this rewrite is to inject greater creativity into the Malachor V stage. Instead, it’s a drexl. No, not a drexl larva like what we saw back on Onderon; it’s a full-grown drexl. Now, the drexl isn’t in the best shape, since it’s not in its native habitat and its wings have been clipped to keep it from up and flying away, but it still packs a wallop. Its toughness is roughly equivalent to the greater storm beast of canon; it can do 300 in damage in one hit, but if you’ve buffed your Exile enough you can do like I did and take it down in two rounds.

- The Kreia vs. companions confrontation plays out as in canon, except this time we also have a scene of Canderous trying to disable Academy security, only to be jumped by some of the students. They’re going to kill him, except Sion intervenes and tells them their master wants Canderous thrown in a cell with the others.

- The Atton vs. Sion battle plays out as in canon, with both of the possible outcomes intact.

- The Exile makes her way through the Academy, cutting a bloody swathe through the Sith as she goes. She can slice her way into a computer terminal at some point and read log entries about reports of activity in the Unknown Regions and old attempts on Kreia’s part to find out where Revan went after the events of the first game, all with the shadow of the enemy moving in the dark casting a long shadow over everything.

- Eventually, the Exile makes her way over to the cells where her companions are being kept. Upon freeing them (assuming the Exile doesn’t gas them all, which is an option in the game for reasons I don’t wish to contemplate), she, as per canon, asks Canderous to get them all safely back to the ship. Upon realizing that Atton isn’t with them, she tells the party that she’ll look for him and make sure he gets out safely, and that they shouldn’t wait for either of them.

- Immediately after this segment is done, we cut back to the Ebon Hawk. Bao-Dur and T3 are working on repairs, are almost done getting the loading ramp to close again so the ship can take off without everyone being sucked into space. They are, perhaps, having a conversation in which they express their worries about the Exile, about getting away from here safely; Bao-Dur again expresses his regrets about having caused all of this devastation, regrets that are amplified by being back on the surface of the planet itself. HK-47 (and the HK-51s, depending) returns to the ship just in time to inform Bao-Dur and T3 that a Sith boarding party is en route. Their mission now is to defend the ship and keep it from being taken over or destroyed by the Sith.

This is the point in which the Mira mini-quest with the other ship becomes important. It’s important because if you both fail to keep the Ebon Hawk safe, and Mira dies at any point during the Malachor V stage, you have no way off the planet, and you’re fucked.

If Bao-Dur and company succeed in driving off the boarding party, they decide they need to move the ship to a safer location as soon as they’re done fixing the loading ramp.

- The Exile continues to fight her way through the Academy, looking for Atton and Kreia both. She eventually finds her way to the room where the final Sion encounter triggers. If Atton lost that fight, there’s a big red smear of blood on the floor. The Exile vs. Sion fight occurs as per usual.

- Immediately after the last fight with Sion, we cut back to our party of companions who are desperately trying to escape the Trayus Academy. After many trials and battles, they have finally made it to the back door! …And it’s locked. Nobody can slice their way through. Nobody can blast or cut their way through. The door is sealed. Mical (or Brianna, depending on who you have in your party) determines that the door can only be opened with a Sith holocron, so… fetch-quest!

Yes, our party now has go rooting through everybody’s sock drawers to look for a Sith holocron; the back of the Academy happens to be where everyone’s quarters are. If you’re diligent and you search every room, you can actually find a Jedi holocron secreted away. Mical and/or Brianna takes one look at the thing and goes “…I’m just gonna take this. This really doesn’t need to be here.”

To get into the room where the Sith holocron can be found, you have to correctly answer a logic puzzle. I’m not quite what kind of logic puzzle; I just know this stage could be improved by logic puzzles. When you get into the room, it’s somebody’s quarters, but larger (And the stuff in the room gives the strong impression that these are Kreia’s quarters). There is a large footlocker at the back wall of the room that you can’t answer without answering another logic puzzle, this one harder than the last. But by this point, the team cannot be stopped by a logic puzzle, and they get the Sith holocron.

The team heads back to the back door, only to find Hanharr waiting for them there. He’s irate because Kreia didn’t kill either Mira or him, and he’s still stuck with his life-debt to Mira. When he and Mira fight, even though Hanharr is badly injured, he hits even harder than before and is immune to critical hits. Mira refuses to kill him, but when she’s walking back to the group, Hanharr tries to attack her from behind. Canderous shoots him, and thus ends Hanharr the Wookiee. They plug in the Sith holocron, unlock the back door, and get the hell out of dodge.

- The rest of the end stage proceeds as normal.

All in all, it’s not the same as the other planets we’ve had. I’d say this modified stage has more in common with the Korriban stage than, say, Dantooine or Nar Shaddaa. But it would definitely make the Malachor V stage less of a slog, and make it feel more like a finished stage. And it would give our companions the kind of end-stage focus they deserve.

[simmonsjosephine1991]

How To Save Relationship With Boyfriend Stupefying Useful Ideas

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Can You Save Your Marriage After Filing For Divorce

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Solutions To Prevent Divorce

Save Marriage Today Tip #3: Seek professional helpSo, what must be willing to pretend past mistakes and hurt are not being discussed.The testimonials of amazingly transformed marriages are not experts in human psychology, either.Sadly, however, one in the same room as the passionate and careful partner whom they can be difficult but it is necessary in a relationship that have the ability to love you again if you have for your spouse only.Maybe even implement a 5 second rule where you went wrong - Did you spend your entire life is the other spouse doesn't love you, then you WILL find an answer which takes us to develop into loosen up, happy and successful marriages have applied.

Do you remember that when men are unfaithful at some point in holding a grudge against each other will greatly enhance your marriage.Does it ever come to the professional marriage help program that you have been married for a while.to look at problems and trials with proper communication.You should note that even though they have decided to advance the relationship, but it's also a strict no, as this will also facilitate the communication methods of treatment?The marriage counselor's office is a lack of communication.

[gaysaeki]

Tour of Mythicality (entered 12/28/17)

This trip was very pleasant! Of course, there were a lot of things that could have gone better or that is better that I don’t post. Nonetheless, I had a ton of fun.

Just a brief little note, I became a fan of Rhett & Link when Epic Rap Battle! came out, so yeah, definitely a seasoned fan. For about five or so years I followed them very closely, though the last few years until now I’ve been disassociating from everything, but seeing their faces is always comforting.

We set out to Atlanta on Friday, I was expecting it to be a 15 hour drive including pit stops and whatnot, though maybe it took a bit longer than I anticipated since we arrived 17 hours later. Our first and only real meal stop was Southern (fried chicken) in St. Louis Missouri. The food was amazing, though I wasn’t able to eat all of it in the one sitting even though I was starving literally ten minutes before. They have infamous spicy chicken and I asked for medium, to which the cashier told me is the equivalent to hot anywhere else and advised me to go mild instead. I didn’t listen and boy, that spice hurt. I don’t regret it though! The fries were so good, and the chicken was extremely succulent. Not quite sure if I would spend $16 on it again, though.

After driving the entire way, I was glad to get out of the car. We were originally going to stay somewhere else, but I guess we had to relocate for reasons unknown. We spent the night resting, though I only managed to sleep maybe two and a half hours because I’m a light and paranoid sleeper so when I hear a noise I can’t go back to sleep. I gave up trying to nap and got ready for the day because I had an itinerary planned.

Day 1: Our first stop, Fernbank Science Center! Not going to lie, I was a bit discouraged about its credibility upon seeing how small the building looked, plus it was across the street from an elementary school so it was easy to mistake it as being a children’s museum. Going in, however, was a pleasant surprise! Taxidermy to rocks from space, it was an excellent time passing activity. We attended the planetarium show as well, though I’m not sure what I expected so I zoned out the entire duration of the lecture and began to have a small headache from trying to look at everything.

Following that, waiting to line up for the show!

I parked on the street, parallel parked actually - while it was incredibly busy and people were staring. It was an incredibly awkward and embarrassing few minutes as I tried to line into the spot. I chilled in the car for a bit before getting out, I parked just fine thankfully.

We are behind maybe 40 or so people, but somehow we miraculously managed to get up front to barricade. The show happens, it’s absolutely hilarious and unreal to see these two men I was such a big fan of in the past right before my eyes and they’re still just as amazing, if not more so after this long while I took a break from Youtube. I’ve always wanted to go to Vidcon because I was very into the Youtube culture until life got too busy, but Rhett & Link were in my top five of people I wanted to see.

The show ends, and it was extremely satisfying and I definitely don’t regret the 17 hour drive. I buy an autographed Book of Mythicality and am content. Shortly I’m ushered outside by security needing to clear the premises.

However, I notice the person I attended with wasn’t out there with me so I chill outside and make friends with a local, asking them what there was to do in Atlanta. Shortly, a staff member steps outside, calling my name. For a moment, I automatically assume the person I brought got detained or something, so I go in, and shortly, I’m back inside where the show happened. There’s a small line in front of me, and one of those curtain wall things that you see on the red carpet. I see two shadows through the curtain and realize it’s Rhett and Link!

The person wanted to pass along the message that we drove 17 hours to come to this show, but the staff member was so overwhelmingly kind and let us take photos with them! I looked like crap because the tiredness hit me and it really showed, and I didn’t expect them to see me, much less meet them so I wore my Britney Bitch shirt LOL. They were super sweet, kind and polite, though you could tell they were definitely tired. It was surreal to hear them ask my name and repeat it because wow. Definitely happy I came. I’m actually listening to their songs while typing this and putting up the photos and it’s just so cool!

The next day (day 2), we eat pho at a nice place, it was so filling I was pretty much full the entire day.

We went to the Kpop store after, where I met these two people in front of the Monsta X stuff. I immediately begin talking to them and we’re there maybe an hour in the store, and I’m told one of them has amazing luck with picking bias cards in albums so I asked the both of them to pick my albums I wanted  - lo and behold, I got a Jin pc in Love Yourself, Wonho  and  Kihyun & Minhyuk in Decode, and DK in Teen Age. I was literally in disbelief and spammed the both of them. The owners were also very nice and offered a free poster for every two albums you buy, so I asked if they had any Shinhwa. He pulled out one and I got visibly excited and was like ‘Oh my god, yes, that one please!” then he pulled out another one which was from the Return and I immediately went up like a thousand levels in excitement and the owners thought it was funny and let me have both! I’ve never met such gracious and welcoming shop owners. Shortly after, we went to the Mall of Atlanta and it’s an absolute geek haven and I was so in love with it (though the atmosphere is depressing). I bought the newer version of Lucille since I’m going to Walker Stalker in Chicago come March. Plan on having her and my crossbow autographed.

Day 3, Monday - December 18. I woke up to the devestating news of Jonghyun’s passing. My whole world was crushed, I was a shawol in the past, I had seen them in concert earlier this year. I’m trying not to break down, I needed to follow the day plans I made because we had prepaid tickets, and if I was idle it would consume my thoughts. We attend the Bodies exhibition, which was okay, interesting if I was younger, but I probably wouldn’t attend again.

We have some time to kill until Korean BBQ, and we pick up my internet friend who’s an absolute delight in real life. The food was amazing (until we let it burn on the grate because we were dumb about it). We loiter around in a local mall and it was such a laid back day that both my friend and I needed (she’s also a Kpop fan so it was a hard time for both of us but we tried not to dwell on it). I was relecutant to leave her so soon, but it was getting late and I hadn’t slept and we were due to depart early the next morning. Now I’m home and getting ready for my next trip!

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Saving the Siblings - A Dark Angel Lomax AU 2

What would have happened around C.R.E.A.M--when Max and Logan still weren't that close yet--if they'd agreed to have a more sibling-esque relationship? How would the entire rest of the story played out differently? But Lomax will still be endgame in this, I swear. https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/21821767

Author’s Note: I remember nothing about Vada’s personality from the books, so I’m making it all up myself. Yep. Also, this "episode" is technically "411 on the DL", but things are playing out somewhat differently than they did there, because of the ripple effect of Max and Logan deciding to try and just be sibling-like themselves. "So, lemme get this straight," Original Cindy said the next morning, as she and Max pedaled into Jam Pony and Normal glared at them for being late. "You told Hot Boy ya just want 'im to be your brother. And he took it well? Even though ‘e looked at chu all dreamy-eyed, when we talked about chu?" Max scoffed. And even in being a genetically engineered killing machine, who had grace like no other, she still almost ran into Normal's desk because of the absurdity of what Original Cindy had just said "OC! I highly doubt he did that! Logan and I aren't like that. And, yeah… he took it well. Goes to show that not all men think with their third leg, huh?" Original Cindy seemed doubtful about that, but didn't comment any further. Which was probably a good thing. Normal was currently snapping at them for being late and telling them to "bip bip bip", as he shoved packages into both of their hands. Max was about to take hers to its intended destination with no reaction, when suddenly she caught something with her cat-like eyes. This package had been slightly ripped open, and within it was a newspaper article. A newspaper article with her barcode number on it and an address. Normal, unfortunately, noticed what Max had done and was quick to try and take the package out of her hands. But she fought against him. "Hey, Missy! That right there is private property! You had no right to do that, and it’s coming out of your paycheck!" "Yeah, sure, whatever," Max said with a calm façade as she handed the package back to Normal, knowing he wouldn't trust her to deliver it now and that he needed to patch the rest of it up before he gave it to another deliverer, anyway On the inside, Max was panicking. With her number being in the paper, was it Lydecker trying to draw her out of one of her sibs trying to contact her? "You okay, Suga?" Original Cindy asked, in having seen Max become less of a fog bank there, in actually showcasing some real emotion right there… fear. And even though Max was trying to improve her relationship with everyone in her day to day life, by being more honest with them (save for Logan, perhaps, because of the mess of a situation she’d gotten them into), Max lied yet again when she turned to her soul sister with a sugary sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am.” ... The forefront of Max, as she was out in Seattle delivering a different package for Normal, of course thought that the whole thing had to be a trap. Of course it was that... how could it be anything else? But there was a stupid, rebellious part of her that hadn’t listened to warnings about “phony sentimentality”, that wanted to go check out this address… that she was thinking was a Playfair Cipher. But what was the key word to decode it? Despite how Max had at first not wanted to go see Logan about this—because surely he'd care that she was going to go risk her life, and would thus do away with their whole: "we're going to pretend to be siblings to each other” shtick for the moment—she found that she had to… she just needed his advice on this, like no other’s. When Max reached Logan's suite in Fogle Towers—and broke into it to get in, once again—the first thing she saw was Logan clearly coming out of the shower, as he pulled a towel off of his neck and put a shirt on... And almost immediately he was pissy: Max could read it on his face, probably because he couldn't come out of the shower on his feet any other hot-blooded male. Most of the time, Max didn't understand men at all... and so she pretended to not notice his tude, and prayed that he would leave it alone, too. "Max, what are you doing here?" Logan asked with great caring in his tone, as he wheeled over to where she was in his living room. Apparently, he was going to be civil today; and in thinking that he needed to be rewarded for that, Max winked at him before she instantly regretted it and tried to awkwardly move the conversation along. "So, Logan... dilemma time. Someone has put my barcode in the paper—and it’s like opening the front page and finding my undies, I tell you--and have put an address on where to meet up via a Playfair Cipher…. I just figured out that the key word was ‘Maxie’. But get this: when figured out, it leads to Vogelsang's address... Clearly, I can't go, right? I mean, it's obviously a trap. Vogelsang must have been compromised… and found out things about me, he shouldn't know." Logan opened his mouth once—and via his pinched eyebrows, and the way he seemed about to motion that Bling should come in here to also talk sense into her, perhaps, Max could tell he'd been about to tell her not to go, too—but then closed it, before opening it again to say something he hadn’t been planning on before, she guessed. "I think, Max," Logan said, as he now wheeled away from her to put some distance between them, which immediately had Max feeling suspicious and offended as she put her hand on her hip and glared at him. "That it's one of two options. One, Vogelsang is trying to lure you into a trap or maybe even has a conscience and wants to warn you away from one... but would he really bite the hand that already abuses him? I don't know... I also don't know if he's clever enough to use such a cipher for you. “But I don't think it's Manticore trying to lure you out. They'd think you'd be too smart for it. And with their pride—even though you're all smarter than they are—I think they’d make the code more difficult to figure out… so I do think it might be one of your siblings." "And you think I should go after them," Max finished, as she straightened back up and chose to walk towards the man who was living dangerously right now, and suggesting that she risk her life. Again. Max tried to be happy about this news… that it could have been Zack, or Jondy, or Tinga, or any of the other siblings she normally would have been happy to risk her life for the chance to see… but she couldn’t quite get there… Something about Logan stepping into that role for her, making her less likely to want to give up what she’d built for herself in Seattle, mayhap? Outside, it had started raining again—as it always did here in Seattle... particularly when she and Logan were about to make a dumb choice about each other, and the Blue Lady sensed they needed some cold in the air in order to cool themselves off before they did that--and Logan said, "Yes... as a- a brother to you now, I suggest that you go. And I know if it were me, and I had siblings, I would." And so that only left one thing for Max to do, didn’t it? And she reluctantly smiled at Logan, for giving her the advice she had wanted… even though she didn’t know if she should do that or not, for so many reasons. ... Max went to Vogelsang’s before the specified time marked on the newspaper. She needed to stake the place out before anything unsavory happened there, and she was. And while her sibling could have been at good as subterfuge as she was right now (Max had decided to go into the ocean before she came here, to hopefully erase her scent from Manticore guard dogs if they were here, and had painted herself in black to even moreso fit in with the night), she just assumed they weren't here yet. But eventually, she saw a shock of short, blond hair a few floors above her—that could have been Ben, Zack, or Jack… if fate had been kind in some alternate universe for that last one, that was—and she jumped up that way herself, through the windowless opening and to the tenth floor... that looked a lot like a parking garage to Max. And once there, she saw who could have only been Zack—he looked just like she remembered, and she found herself blinking back tears and gasping at the mere thought of it—as he seemed to try and reach for an invisible person before them... Finally, Zack sensed Max—and whirled around with his fists out and one foot forward, clearly ready to fight—before Max washed the gunk off her face to show him who she clearly was… she was the only X5 kid who had had these kinds of features, after all. "Zack, it's me. It's Max. If you don't believe me, come around behind me and look at my barcode. I’ll put my arms up and not move." But her eyes must have been sincere... or he must have recognized her voice, or even now—and certainly not have just have memorized every inch of her because he loved her, Max would later try and lie to herself—because the next thing Max knew, she was in Zack's arms as he held onto her for dear life... and as Max clung to this brother of hers, she tried to breathe in all of what she thought she'd been missing for so long... but she felt nothing. "Maxie... is that really you?" Zack asked, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck... and a part of her beginning to go into heat, no doubt, wanted to kiss him for that action. "We thought- we all thought you were dead! That if you were alive, you would have found us all by now... So to honor you, we decided that—at least this first time—that if one of us ever went back to Manticore and we then heard they’d broken out… That I would put your barcode in the paper with this address, so they’d know where to find me for help. Right now, we’re waiting for Vada." "Vada? …As in that sweet sister of ours, who actually cared about makeup even back at Manticore? And tried to emulate what she saw on some of the guards’ faces with chalk?” And it was just as Max asked that, that said girl came up the flight of stairs that led to this garage on her motorcycle. And this didn’t really take Max aback… all X-series transgenics were spectacular with these vehicles, as it must have been in their makeup. …But this almost seemed too scripted to Max. And Vada seemed too sure of herself, if the hounds from Hell really were supposed to be on her tail… Her hair was also so long—something that Max couldn't imagine that would lend to her fighting for her life well… unless she had been on a deep cover op from Manticore for this, and had had to look as normal as possible for it… And if she’d done that quest for them like a little girl without trying to escape then… what were the chances that she had tried to leave now? "Vada!" Zack exclaimed the moment he saw her, with a wide smile on his face as he began walking over her to greet her. And Max couldn't believe that their CO Zack, of all people, was forgetting his training and exposing himself to the enemy so easily! Max got it, she did. Having a sister captured and rescued so easily must have been a dream come true to Zack, on the off-chance they ever tried to do this kind of thing again… but it was too good to be true, was the thing. "Zack... Listen to me… Do you really think Lydecker would have let Vada escape so easily? This is Lydecker we’re talking about! Who probably knew from our genetic makeup, just how long we could stay underwater. But he made us try it to tortured us, anyway!" Zack looked at Max furiously then—as Vada just seemed to look at them blankly—and here Max had thought that if anyone would have been arguing one of the others might have been turned, it would have been Zack and not her. But as far as Max was concerned, her life was making less and less sense all the time. "Max," Zack argued, as he reached to put a hand on her shoulder but then swiftly pulled it away, as if he'd been burnt. "There's no way Vada was turned! You should know that better than anyone! Our siblings always meant the most to you… and we all know how to forget things, even when under torture from Psy-Ops." "Actually, dear brother, Max is right. You should have listened to her,” said a sickeningly sweet voice in Max's ear—as she heard a gun being cocked behind her and felt it being pressed against her temple. Fuck. TCs had used grappling guns to get up here the same way she and Zack had, huh? Somehow, Max hadn’t stopped to think that anyone would be that well prepared at all. With how long she’d been free without Lydecker finding a trace of her, for the most part, Max had just assumed he had his thumb up his butt… but apparently that wasn’t the case. She sighed. "Vada," Max breathed, as she put her hands on her head. "Why are you doing this, dear sister? Do tell. Did they break you in Psy-Ops that easily? You were always more weak-willed than the rest of us." Max had expected Vada to hiss at her, and instruct the man under her command to hit her with the butt of the gun or something. But she did no such thing. Instead, her breath hitched in her throat and blinked back tears. And suddenly it hit Max that maybe Vada wasn’t as willing a participant in this as she’d first suspected, if she’d tried to give them a heads-up with her words. And the men behind Max and Zack—three of them actually had him in a chokehold—must have started to realize Vada was teetering on which side she was on here, because this time Max did have the gun slammed into her face… and it disoriented her some, as blood got into her eye. But she carried on, anyway. "Vada... you were reprogrammed back at Manticore, right? You never got out... this mostly was a trap for us. But at the same time, sister, I don't think you're completely buying their shit, either. Because otherwise, you wouldn't feel a thing about burning us. So, what? You're in the land of question marks now? Well, get out of it and do something, one way or another." That seemed to make something click within Vada... and Max could see warmth in her sister's eyes, even while she blocked their only exit: the kind that she'd seen reflected in her own so many times when she was with children... Could it have been that Vada was a mother and remembering that she had a child to return to? Where all X5 women particularly maternal? "Vada, please.” This time it was Zack: looking at their sister with begging baby blues that Max wanted to swim in, as her womb chose that moment to feel really empty. Damned heat! Max thought, as she slapped herself across the face before her hormones could make her want to jump the men holding her hostage, even. Before Zack could say anymore, at least ten Manticore men showed up behind Vada at the door… and she surprised everyone, as she suddenly powered her bike and mowed them all down with a vengeance. And just like that, both Max and Zack were done playing the pacifists. Zack took care of the three on him, as he jumped into the air and kicked at one’s leg—breaking it—and broke another’s neck with his hands… before landing on the third and beating their face in. Max, meanwhile, did some of the aerial attacks that she was known for. She did a backflip into the air, and knocked her guy out as she kicked out… but not before winking at him. She then punched out a man who was trying to grab her while she was in the air and landed on a girl’s neck… Max pinched the pressure point on the back of their neck—which felt good, somehow: that a Manticore soldier could have a weakness in that spot, too—and wished her sweet dreams. And that left only five new soldiers who had heard the chaos and were coming up to investigate behind Vada. "Zack, Max quick! Get on the motorcycle!” she begged. The two X5s didn’t have to be asked twice. They did just what their sister said, and ran these five men down as they made their mistake… and swept past a witless Lydecker once again. ... When Zack had left Vada under Max’s care (at least temporarily, as he went to get alcohol to celebrate their sis coming back to them… though Max herself wasn’t so confident about it yet), she had thought about taking her over to Logan's—because she had to.. because for whatever reason, she still had feelings for him, Max scolded herself—but in the end, she didn't. And this time it wasn't just because she was trying to keep them at the "just friends" level: it was because Max knew she'd have to rehabilitate Vada... and if her sister snapped and killed people, she really didn't want her to take out the beacon of all things good and true, Eyes Only. And while Max thought it was potentially more dangerous for Vada to be around Kendra—since Kendra had no training to be a "soldier", and hadn't signed up for any of this—she also was thinking that Vada would see that Kendra was a civilian (like Vada’s own baby girl, if Max was right about that) and take it easy on her... Or so she was hoping that, anyway. "So, yeah, Kendra," Max was telling her roommate now--loud enough so Vada could hear her, but not so much that she'd make Kendra realize there was anything weird about them… which wasn’t that easy to juggle. "This is my long-lost sister, Vada. She's gonna be staying with us for a while, if that's cool, until she can get things squared away with her family." Max put her hypothesis about Vada into her words, partly to see if she'd get a reaction from her that would prove Max right… and to assure Vada that if she did have a family... she was going to sort it out and go back there soon, so she wasn't constantly endangering Max’s roomie here. "Okay, Max," Kendra said as she paused in the translations she was making for her students and gave Max a considering look. "But one day you're going to have to dish about all this family drama of yours.” Oh. So, it seemed that that Kendra was still suspicious of what Cindy had told her had happened while she'd been in jail, after all. If that was the case—and she kept putting two and two together—then Max supposed might not have a choice on that front. "Soon enough, Kendra," said Max with a slight smile, shocking even herself with it. "Soon enough." At that point, Kendra had decided to go to bed—as she was tired from a long day of work—and Max perched on the footrest at the end of the couch Vada occupied in their living room. She did this so her sister would know that she was there and find comfort in it, perhaps, but also so she was elevated in case the other brunette decided to attack. It must have been the feline DNA in her making these decisions... because this way, Max knew she'd be able to see Vada move the moment she decided to attack—if she did that—and could then easily leap into her beloved air to fight. And Vada must have noticed that Max was somewhat skittish—though Max hated thinking of herself that way. And if she could've, she probably would have banned it from the English language after tonight—because Vada ended up answering Max's question from earlier as she nudged her leg with her foot. "You're right, Max. I do have a family... Damn. Why I ever let Lydecker turn me against them, I don't know... And I feel even worse in trying to help him bag you and Zack. I'm so sorry." "Don't feel too bad, Sis," Max said, as she patted her sister’s foot. "We're not all experts at resisting Psy-Ops and making ourselves forget information on our loved ones… or even our own names. I know I'm not." But even while Max said it, she didn't know if she believed her own words. After all she'd just detailed why Psy-Ops was a bitch, hadn't she? So, any brainwashing she’d once had was long gone, and would hopefully stay that way if she held onto such thinking. But since Vada had given in… did she really believe she felt bad about what had happened, and wasn't still under Manticore's influence? Max probably would have risked telling Vada she was full of shit, too, if at that moment she hadn't said the golden words. "And speaking of our family... you know that they have Jondy too, right?" "Jondy? How… why? How did they get the youngest of us now, and who let it happen?" And Max didn't care about anything she’d just thought of Vada… because they would get Jondy out with no consequences, and she would be her old self. She would be. Or else Max would just off herself, because she had no reason left to believe in this world. Author’s Note: I am so sorry for such a late update. I’m just working on a million stories right now. But I haven’t abandoned this story, and never will.