#it is an aiming issue but fix the color and intensity first

[toytulini]

like literally when i first started driving and those headlights were not the norm bc it was still only the newest cars that had them so they were less common, it like, sucked but was tolerable to drive at night. now it feels like the majority of fucking vehicles around where i live and every night drive is hell.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: A Hoarding Problem.

Pairing: Pro-Hero!Yandere!Touya/Reader (Boku No Hero Academia).

Word Count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Todoroki Touya has a problem, and he’s not sure he wants to fix it.

TW: Hero AU, Minor Spoilers, Kidnapping, Mutual Extortion, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Bondage, Implied Infantilization, Mention of Sedatives (No Actual Use), and Themes of Poverty. 

Todoroki Touya had a problem.

He had a lot of problems, technically. His secretary always managed to schedule the most important meetings at the least convenient times, his coffee never seemed hot enough but always burnt his tongue, and despite his fame and wealth and strange, cult-like popularity, the only thing journalists ever seemed to want to talk about was his father, why Touya didn’t inherit the ‘Endeavour’ title, how long it’d take him to live up to all those stacking, swelling expectations. He had a lot of problems, dozens, hundreds. He had a lot. Everyone did, but Touya didn’t have to deal with everyone else’s.

He just had to deal with you.

You were one of those concentrated types, your smile always a little too personal and your stare always a little too intense, like you were trying to see how much his organs would go for on the black-market before you bothered to cut him open. You were put together, too, and if he hadn’t taken the liberty of following you home so many times, he never would’ve guessed you were staying at some cheap, back-alley motel, the kind meant for people who just wanted to be anywhere but the place they used to be. A run-away, he’d guessed, at first, but you were too old for that, and you were too good at pretending you weren’t living out of the suitcase Touya was starting to get tired of rummaging through. Maybe you were a petty criminal, a villain too minor to be on his radar - he didn’t know, and he really wasn’t interested in finding out. All that mattered to him was that he’d met you, decided he liked you, and hadn’t been able to think about much else since. It was an issue, really, and it was starting to get in the way of his work. It was starting to get in the way of everything.

But, he’d had this kind of problem before. He knew what to do. He knew how to handle it.

You seemed to want to be handled, too.

You were laughing, again, but he wasn’t really sure why. It might’ve been something he said, your own little joke, but he didn’t mind the sound, all bells and wind chimes and a practiced ease that threatened to divert his focus, as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. You were slumped in the passenger seat, and if he checked, he was sure you’d be looking out the window, counting turns, memorizing street names, doing what little you could to track the convoluted, darkened route he’d been sure to plan out days ago. You’d come willingly, but you wanted to make sure you’d be able to find your way back without his help. For his own sake, Touya pretended you were just being cautious. 

“I didn’t expect a Hero to live so far from the city.” Your voice was just as light, just a notch more confident than it had been at the convenience store you both frequented, the one you’d been working at when he stumbled in, closer to sunrise than sunset and ready to fall in love with the first person who smiled at him. The job hadn’t lasted, but Touya couldn’t think of a reason to mourn the loss. You wouldn’t have been desperate enough to take him up on his offer, if you still had a steady income. “Didn’t mark you down as one of those ‘cabin in the woods’ types, either. I’m not going to find, like, a box of dismembered body parts or anything, right?” 

“Obviously,” He scoffed, his tone just playful enough to be disarming. “I try to keep my victims in one piece. Hackjobs aren’t as satisfying as you’d think.”

That earned a jab to his side, an offended ‘my hackjob would be’, but you lost interest in the exchange as soon as he reached the driveway, coming to a stop in front of that sprawling, climbing villa, three stories of concrete and glass, a stark contrast from the forest that surrounded it. You took a moment to take it in, scanning over the building, a predator evaluating its docile prey. When you turned towards Touya, your smile was just a little wider, your expression just a little brighter. “I really can’t thank you enough,” You went on, your tone so sentimental, Touya could almost ignore the hollowness behind it. “You sure you’re alright with this? My last place fell through, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find somewhere else to--”

“Don’t worry about that. All this is curtesy of the Hero Commission, and they don’t keep track of who comes ang goes.” Touya didn’t wait for you to finish, he didn’t have to, even if he did let himself enjoy your faux-gratitude as he undid his seatbelt. “Besides, it’s my job, right? I wouldn't want to find out you went and got yourself hurt because I couldn’t be bothered to clean out my guest room.” There was a slight pause, a short hesitation. You flinched when he raised his hand, but you didn’t pull away as he cupped your cheek, only learning into his warm palm. “Besides, I can’t say I’d mind a little company, all alone out here.”

In his defense, he wasn’t going to kiss you. Really, he wasn’t that mean, but he didn’t have a chance to refuse, not before your lips were on his, your hands in his hair, all sudden passion and over-eager excitement. He was stunned, at first, but Touya recovered quickly. Biting back a smirk, he leaned into the gesture, slinging an arm around your hip, tilting your head back and doing whatever he could to bring you close, to keep you close, just like he’d been dying to for months, now. He could feel you stifle a laugh, moving to pull away, but Touya only drifted to your neck, nipping at the edge of your jaw before he found your jugular, aiming for the sensitive area just above it. You only chuckled, blunt nails running over his scalp. “And I thought I was the needy one,” You chided, half-hearted pushing at his chest. “It’s cold out here, Todoroki. At least take me inside first.” 

Right. Of course. He got carried away.

He almost forgot why you were actually here.

He didn’t let you go. He didn’t want to, so he didn’t bother trying, pulling you over the center console in one swift motion, leaving you in his lap, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder and an arm under your thighs, supporting your weight as he jerkily kicked open the door, letting you duck your head and giggle, always giggling, always trying to pretend to be meek and harmless and innocent. He wondered if you’d stop, eventually, if you’d drop the act once he decided both of you should show your true colors. He’d be lying if he said he hated the idea of choking it out of you. 

The front door wasn’t locked. He didn’t bother, not with his profession, not when he knew he’d be coming home with you, tonight. If you noticed, you didn’t seem to mind, focusing on locking your ankles behind his back, on swallowing down that small, pained groan as he slammed your back into the nearest wall of his darkened villa just a little too hard, pretending not to notice as your smile wavered in the minimal light. “I don’t think this counts as protecting the--” 

You were cut off by a loud thud, metallic and hollow, like someone hitting drywall with a baseball bat. You paused, for a second, your gaze flickering to the space behind him, but he was quick to kiss your cheek, to bring your attention back to where it should be, on him. “‘s just my roommate,” He mumbled, hoping you’d be too used to the excuse to linger on it. “Don’t pay it too much mind. He’s probably just fucking around.” 

This time, your smile dropped completely. “The Hero Commission... lets you have a roommate?” 

He caught his mistake a second too late. He opened his mouth, ready to explain, but another noise interrupted him, a rattling this time, followed by another deafening, irritating thud. He grit his teeth, but you only stiffened, your next shove to his chest a little more insistent than the last. “He might be hurt,” You started, the concern in your voice more genuine than it’d been all night. “We should check on him, that sounds--” 

“It’ll be fine.” He spoke a little too quickly, a little too aggressively. Instantly, your eyes widened, your entire body going tense against his, and Touya had to fight not to lose his composure completely. It was too soon. It was too early. He wanted to be sweet. He didn’t want to be mean, not with you. “Just ignore it, sweetheart, it’s not important. You’re here for me, right? The brat shouldn’t--” 

It was a slip-up. A petname so common, he hardly noticed he’d said it until you were scrambling, writhing, digging your nails into his biceps deep enough to break the skin, forcing him to let you go out reflex alone. You barely managed to catch yourself, but you stayed on your feet, shoving past Touya while he was still hissing out curses, clutching at bleeding wounds and broken scars. There was another thud, and you moved to sprint in the direction it’d come from, but he was a Hero, he was trained for this. You were on the ground before you could take a step, Touya straddling your stomach, his hands around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, though, he didn’t want to strangle you. He was going to be patient. This was going to be different. “Just behave,” He growled, fighting to hold onto the last threads of his restraint. “It’s not important. I’m important, and that’s all you have to care about. That’s all you’re ever going to care about, from now on.”

You didn’t hesitate. As soon as he finished, you were jerking forward, your forehead colliding with his and forcing a ragged scream from both of you. He’d give you credit for that. Villains and Heroes fought with quirks, specialized weapons, tactics and strategies and purpose. This was blunt. This was thoughtless. It was impulsive, and it was stupid, and it worked, letting you push him away as he recoiled, suddenly too focused on his pounding skull to care about what you might find. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. None of your little tantrums would.

He’d find you, eventually. After that, the results would be the same.

That might’ve been why Touya took his time, pushing himself to his feet slowly, following the sound of your footsteps before they abruptly stopped. He tried not to be bothered by it, even if there was a familiar pang of anxiety when he saw you, your mouth agape and your body slack, leaning against a door that should not be open. He might’ve walked a little faster, out of habit, but if you noticed him, you were too distracted to care. He couldn’t blame you. Not when he knew what you were looking at. 

He got a little carried away, with the girls’ room. Pale pink paint coated on every surface, fairy-lights strung along the ceiling, and a white, circular rug, fluffy and stainless and just small enough to stop before it reached the three cots, settled along each of the walls, each with its own frilly sheets and plush mattress and bare, metallic frame, something Touya might’ve considered swapping out if their opponents were a little more grateful. Two were empty, the first a spare if he needed room for a future ‘guest’ and the second a reminder to check on the bitch in his basement, and the third was on its side. That was what you were focusing on, what he couldn’t seem to pull you away from as he slotted himself against your back, wrapping an arm loosely around your waist. 

That, and the girl sitting in front of it, a ball-gag stuffed in her mouth and a collar around her neck, thick and leathery and attached to a chain, keeping her tethered to the nearest wall. There were a few noticeable dents in the plaster around her bracket, but Touya had better things to worry about. 

There was a garbled scream, something that might’ve been a warning, but Touya silenced her off with a glare sharp enough cut glass. “Shut it,” He barked, all pretense of patience gone. “Shut up, or you’re going to spend the next week in a muzzle. I’ll deal with you later.”

“You kidnapped her.” At least you waited your turn, even if the delay did little too soften the disgust in your voice. “You’re a monster. You’re supposed to be--” 

“A hero?” You tried to shove him away, to pry him off of you, but he only tightened his grip. “And you’re supposed to be an innocent civilian, aren’t you? Something soft and appreciative I can feel good about helping, fuck, and forget about the next day, right?” 

“Don’t try to--” 

“Where do you keep the bottle, sweetheart?” Now, it was your turn to go tense, to know he saw something he shouldn’t have seen. “Don’t lie to me. It won’t be pretty, if we start off this relationship on a bad foot.” 

You hesitated, for a moment. He saw your swallow, watched your eyes dart towards anything that could’ve been considered a weapon, but his fingers slipped under your shirt and you bowed your head, giving in at the slightest threat of something worse. He liked that about you. Such a simple thing, too afraid of pain to take the risk. “My jacket. There are pockets on the inside - it’s on the right.” 

He’d give you credit. It looked realistic, if nothing else, a translucent orange bottle with a white lid, the label scratched off in a way that could’ve been mistaken for nervous fidgeting, if Touya didn’t know better. With one hand, he popped off the lid, barely glancing at the unmarked pills inside before letting out a pleased hum. 

Sedatives. Not lethal, but effective. The type you could get from any low-ranking Villain with a surplus supply and a greater need for clients than most. 

The type that could be slipped into wine glasses, mixed into water. The type that’d keep your trusting, unsuspecting host nice and unconscious while you helped yourself to anything that wasn’t nailed down. While you robbed him blind, stowed yourself away in another cheap motel room two towns over, and scouted for the next poor guy who’d be too embarrassed to say anything.

Touya couldn’t help himself. He laughed, loudly and shamelessly, watching as you withered, glaring at the tiled floor. He couldn’t tell if it was fear of loathing, half-suspended terror or that deep, ingrained hatred any good predator should feel when it’s caught in a trap, but your voice couldn’t have made it more clear. “What’s your plan?” You spat, all humiliation, all spirited, adorable anger. His grin widened, the lasting tension in his shoulders dissolving, but if you noticed how much he enjoyed your little show, you didn’t bother trying to keep your mouth shut. “Arrest me? Hand me over to the police and let me tell them all about your creepy, fucked-up dollhouse?” You never looked up. You never so much as tried to meet his eyes, let alone glance at the ‘victim’ you’d been so intent on saving a few minutes ago. “Let me go. You don’t have another choice, unless you’re willing to get your hands dirty.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m not gonna kill you.” It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t seem to believe him, going rigid as his lips brushed against the nape of your neck. It was a fleeting gesture, but he didn’t let himself linger. He’d have plenty of time for that once he got you used to your new role, under his care. Once you got used to him. “I’m not gonna hand you over, either. That’d just be a waste.”

He might’ve been a little mean, after all. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have given you so much time to answer, so much time to tremble. At least you didn’t try to get away, this time. You were already learning. “I… I don’t--” 

“I’m going to take care of you, angel. Just like I’m taking care of her.”

There was a moment of stillness, a small, ragged sob, but Touya couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but satisfied. 

Because Todoroki Touya had a problem. Because he was awful and hungry and greedy, and he had a problem.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to fix it.

[magioftheseas]

Sonia & Yasuke

Summary: Sonia Nevermind’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. FUCK YES. A slightly divergent take on the originals.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language. Brief discussions of cults and kidnapping.

Notes: Sonia was neck and neck with Tanaka for the poll and I was going to do hers soon anyway, so I just went ahead. Sometimes, life just shakes out that way. I really do love Sonia so much. The bias is strongest for Sonia, so I really hope I did her justice. Only the best for our kween. (Btw, the formatting for this couldn’t fully carry through so some stylistic choices on Ao3 are absent here.)

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

He supposed he had been in an antsier mood than usual. In one hand, he read his manga. In the other, he played with and twirled around a pen. He’s practiced enough that he doesn’t need to look. It’s just something for his other hand to do. Something that would, ideally, work off some jitters.

He had almost been too worked up to read. Unfortunately, he’s still having a hard time trying to get into the book. He can’t tell if it’s because the story is dragging itself or because he’s just not in the right headspace. What a nuisance.

He catches the pen between his knuckles, tapping the end against the table. A surprised gasp. A round of applause. Matsuda glances over his book to meet the beaming face of a certain princess. Even in a hotel this cafeteria this tacky, she shone like a precious jewel.

What a nuisance. Except—

“So impressive, Matsuda-san!” she squealed. “You truly have fury skillz, yo!”

I guess of all the people here, she’s the most tolerable.

“Impressive, huh,” he mused. “I could probably twirl a scalpel, too.”

“Ooh!” Sonia clasped her hands. “Matsuda-san! Will you perform?!”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to risk cutting my fingers just to show off. I’ll twirl the pen some more.”

“Oh, I understand...” Quieting, Sonia still watched him twirl with intent eyes. It’s like he’s center stage at an opera house. Sonia hums and her fingers even twitch along. “Matsuda-san, such talented fingers... I truly do applaud you.”

Matsuda flipped the pen, catching it before it fell to the ground. Sonia let out another gasp and clapped some more, giggling.

“Bravo, bravo!”

Jeez. She’s so likable that it’s sickening.

It’s almost like he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter should the two of them become friends.

I guess...there are worse relationships to be forced into. Even if I already have a headache.

Still, the mood couldn’t help but be lightened whenever Sonia laughed. Scary.

--

His fingers were a bit aching, and holding a cold drink alleviated some of the stinging. Sonia, ever the prim and proper young lady with her mouth shut, simply sipped tea from across the table. The picture of elegance. Even in a cafeteria this tacky.

But it’s not like any location short of the azure sky and sapphire ocean could do someone like her justice.

“This island truly is sublime,” Sonia hummed. “The weather is always so serene, and the ocean is as blue as it is endless! Truly! It’s a perfect resort, wouldn’t you say, Matsuda-san?”

“I don’t know if I’d go as far as to say perfect,” he replied. “There’s a little too much fucking walking. I’m not big on sweating.”

Even if big hospitals had fancier equipment, I still hated having to rush back and forth.

“To be more contained can have its benefits,” Sonia agreed good-naturedly. “Still, I must say I am quite happy with what we have.”

Matsuda hummed right back.

Happy...

“Situation could be better,” he said. “Would really fucking love if we weren’t being held hostage by a homicidal fucking bear.”

“Indeed,” Sonia agreed solemnly. “Quite regrettable.”

Matsuda waited for her to continue, but she merely took another elegant sip. Still the picture of calm. Sonia’s eyes do flicker open and it’s then that Matsuda takes notice of the color. They’re a clear, soft green. It’s a unique shade. One he thinks he’s only seen in...

“As long as no murders take place, everything will be alright,” Sonia spoke with conviction. “What happens next...will depend on our own inclinations and choices.”

I shouldn’t compare them too much.

“That’s a reductive way of looking at it,” he said. “Even if we have the resolve, I don’t doubt that our hands are going to be forced.”

Sonia slammed her cup onto the table. It cracked just the slightest bit.

“Then, we should cooperate with one another so that we can return home as quickly as we can,” she said sunnily. “Matsuda-san, I trust you to tell me any ideas you may come up with. I shall do what I can.”

“Well...” Matsuda directed his stare towards one of the security cameras. “We’d first have to come up with something to do about those.”

“If we simply shattered them, we would get punished severely,” Sonia recalled, lamenting as she did. “We would have to act... And perhaps...”

She dropped into lower mumbles that Matsuda couldn’t make out. Perhaps out of precaution, in case they were being recorded. Matsuda watches her sink deeper and deeper into thought.

Even she can’t be serene and optimistic all the time. She’s still managing better than anyone else here.

“Do you understand, Matsuda-san?” she asked, tone serious. “Or must I repeat myself?”

“If you did, it’d have to be a little louder, so it’d be better if you could write it down discretely and pass it to me later,” he said, sighing. “It’s a little too risky discussing anything out in the open.”

Sonia clapped with glee.

“A handsome remark! This is why I know I can rely on your intelligence and wit, Matsuda-san.” She gave a few nods of approval. “It might be better for our moral to chat amiably for now.” With a dazzling smile, she then inquired, “Is there anything you’d like to ask of me?”

Matsuda blinked at her.

“Not really.” I am curious about one thing. Given the circumstances, it’s best to hold off on that. “What about you?”

“There is something! That I AM quite curious about!” Sonia exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Who has captured your heart? And who do you plan to settle on?!”

Matsuda stared.

“...?”

His head tilted in confusion, so Sonia went on to explain.

“This situation—it is similar to The Summer Story of Seven Men and Seven Women, wouldn’t you say?! The standard practice, then, is to start wavering and swapping partners!”

“The...J-drama?” he asked, no less confused but Sonia was more incited regardless.

“No just the J-drama, the legendary J-drama! The original trendsetter! Starting with an upbeat tone... Before shifting to surprisingly serious!” she swooned. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, and yet I couldn’t look away! Momoko’s feelings...! Wow, so intense!”

“Uh-huh...” Matsuda’s eyes rolled back. “Well... I’m not sleeping with anyone on this stupid fucking island, so it’s not going to be that similar. That, and there are more guys here than girls to begin with...”

“That is true!” Sonia gasped. “Someone will have to be unlucky! I wonder... Who it will be...?”

Didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to...? Not to mention some of the guys flat-out wouldn’t be interested. Although I don’t think that’ll keep someone from being unlucky, huh...

It looked like he wouldn’t get in another word in edgewise.

This still isn’t going to fix the declining birthrate.

At least Sonia seemed to be having a hella time theorizing. Matsuda just let her...do that.

--

“I managed to find a couple of books on Novoselic,” he said, setting the stack of books on the table before a sparkly-eyed Sonia. “Since we don’t have the internet, this was the best I could scrounge up and even then I don’t know if they’re all that accurate.”

“Oh, Matsuda-san, I would have told you anything you needed to know!” She does take one of the books. “That said, I recognize this author. You can trust them! Oh, but this one...” She takes another, frowning. “If I recall... No. You should not trust this one at all. In fact, I would burn every copy of this book.”

“I could kind of tell from the tone,” Matsuda hummed, setting it apart and pushing it far away. Sonia’s frown was still a deep mar on her face. “So, these books are accurate?”

“As I have said, Matsuda-san, I do not mind telling you about my country,” she said, smiling again. “Or! Is this courting? I’m afraid I will have to sadly decline, much as this feels like something out of a J-drama...”

She says while looking disappointed in herself...

“It’s more that I thought you should know what other people are writing about your country,” he said. He paused. “Ah, I guess that was pretty presumptuous of me.”

“Not at all!” Sonia shook her head. “Awareness and control of the media are essential! Not to mention you have informed me of quite the pressed issue! I will have to take care of it when I return...is what a responsible, attentive ruler would say.” She sighed. “Sadly, I will have to inform others and hope for the best.”

She has said in the past that she’s more of a figurehead than a leader.

“That’s a part of being young,” he remarked. “Don’t let it get you down too much. Just prepare for the future to the best of your ability.”

Sonia does giggle at that.

“Matsuda-san... Sometimes, you remind me of the male lead in a J-drama.”

“No comment.”

She laughs again. “In my humblest opinion, the best J-dramas are the ones aimed at women between the ages of 20 to 34. Just before Japan’s economic bubble burst! You would not believe how many times I have seen I Will Arrest Your Eyes! Why, when I first arrived in Japan, the first thing I did was run across the Spain-zaka!”

As fascinating as that all is, what gets my attention is...

“Hold it. Were you calling me mature or were you suggesting that I speak like an old man?”

“You certainly do have a worldly weariness to you, Matsuda-san,” Sonia went on to sigh. “Broody and broken down by life... While it would be attractive on the screen, it is worrisome and exhausting in person.” She perked right back up. “But have no fear! For a fairly dreamy maniac will someday come into your life! And the two of you can partake in the ritual entrapped within the blizzard!”

“I hate the cold,” is Matsuda’s only reply to whatever the fuck all of that was.

“Then when will you cuddle under a blanket in the nude?!” Sonia gasped, aghast. “Will you do so at a different temperature?! Is the blizzard not necessary after all?!”

“First off, you’re referring to a cliché rather than a ritual,” Matsuda said, waving his hand. “Shouldn’t the fact that it was happening during a damn blizzard tipped you off? Not every couple is going to go to the fucking mountains.”

“So...” Sonia quieted. “It is not like the Makango?”

The Makango? Matsuda remembered. Ah, the Makango.

“We don’t have anything like that as far as I’m aware,” he said. “Mind you, I’m...not aware of much...”

Thinking about this gives me a headache. Actually, it really, really fucking hurts right now.

“I see...” Sonia pursed her lips. “So peculiar. Oh!” She blinked, realizing. “Matsuda-san, you look pale.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead with a wince. “I think... I’m gonna check out.”

“You should check out what’s wrong with you!” she exclaimed. “Do better for yourself, Matsuda-san!”

“...right.”

On that note, there wasn’t anything else to do but stumble out.

--

It’s another calm day at the library. Sonia, however, snaps up immediately when Matsuda walks inside. It’s scary how alert the princess is, but that was probably a good thing considering her situation. Matsuda sighed, waving and taking in how she lit up and eagerly saluted him.

He also takes notice of the book that Sonia had been reading. The cover—looks quite gruesome.

“How are you feeling?” Sonia asked kindly. “You are not in pain, yes? Matsuda-san?”

“I’m doing fine,” he said, stretching as he makes his way over. “I’ve been dealing with headache after headache since I got here, so I’ve gotten used to them.”

“I see,” Sonia murmured, downcast and sympathetic. “I will trust you to your own mechanics.”

“Devices,” Matsuda corrected without thinking as he seated himself. “Anyway, I’ll be reading. Don’t mind me.”

He does pull out a manga he brought with him—the library was just a better environment for reading than the cafeteria hence him making the trip. He cracks it open, but he doesn’t get very long to enjoy it. He gets maybe five minutes before there’s a nudge at his side.

He ignores it, but Sonia elbows him with enough force that he nearly yelps. With a now throbbing side, his gaze drops to see a folded-up piece of paper tucked between Sonia’s delicate fingers. Her nails are perfectly manicured yet polished to give off the illusion of natural beauty.

Hm.

He takes the paper, unfolding it and—

What do you know about the occult?

Sonia is feigning innocence. She’s scarily good at it. If not for the flicker of her intense stare to his, he wouldn’t have suspected a thing. That...and his side still...stings. Seriously the princess had a bony fucking elbow.

“Princess. What the hell is this?”

“Shush!” she ordered and he dutifully shut his mouth without a second thought. Sonia looked around discretely, lowering her voice as she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Any information you have on cults would also be appreciated, Matsuda-san.”

No, seriously, what the fuck?

He does try to make sense of it. If Sonia felt the need to convey these questions inconspicuously, then, maybe—?

He takes out a pen and writes down his response. He hands it under the table for Sonia to read.

Do you think our kidnappers are part of a cult?

“Oh!” Sonia gasped. “I never thought of that! What a fascinating theory!”

Guuuuuuess not.

“If it just interests you, you don’t have to be so fucking secretive,” he griped. “Just ask me outright like a normal fucking person.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I truly didn’t think the way I was conducting myself was...regal. They pass notes like so in the dramas. Is that not normal behavior, Matsuda-san?”

Oh.

“I...no, actually...” Matsuda shrugged helplessly. “I...guess that is in fact a way high schoolers communicate sometimes...”

I haven’t gone to a normal high school...or a normal middle school for that matter.

“It is quite—unheard of if not prohibited for a princess to have such interests,” Sonia sighed. “But even if it is forbidden, my heart still longs for more when it comes to the subject of Freemasonry! Oh, but it’s purely academic!” She looks quite serious as she insists, “I could never dream of conspiring against the government.”

“A lot of people do find that stuff interesting,” Matsuda said. Sonia lit up only to deflate when he added, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“No?” Her head tilted. “You think it...kiddy?”

“In a way,” he admitted. “Cultism comes about through societal failings and instability. Political turmoil, lack of education, paranoia, peer pressure... People long for a sense of community by nature and they’re drawn to a charismatic figure who knows how to prey on the insecure and vulnerable. People just want someone else to tell them what to do, what to think, like fucking children and obviously, obviously, they get taken advantage of by the worst fucking types...”

Sonia’s eyes were wide.

“Oh! Matsuda-san, have you been in a cult before?!”

Matsuda immediately jolted. For some reason, he broke into a sweat. For another, his head hurt so much that he wanted to shut down then and there.

“...Matsuda-san?”

He needed to grip his hand and will them to stop shaking.

“...I... No.” He shook his head firmly, digging his nails into his arm, would’ve raked them through the flesh if not for the sleeve of his coat. “It’s, uh, just something I read one time.”

“You are looking quite pale,” Sonia remarked worriedly. “I apologize, Matsuda-san. I—think we should drop the subject for now. I do not wish to cause you untoward pain any longer.”

She draws back from him as if he’s too fragile to be near. It’s seriously annoying, especially when not only does Sonia look stricken with guilt, she also looks lonely.

“I...” He swallowed. “While I don’t think much of it, I do think it’s important to understand. It isn’t productive to just...dismiss it wholesale.”

Sonia does perk up.

“I agree,” she says, albeit tentative as she does. “To dismiss a different sense of values due to ignorance is foolish. Such ignorance leads to bloodshed. And—it is important for a member of the royal to expand one’s knowledge.”

He nods.

“I just...” He wants to bite his tongue clean off. “I guess it’s a sore subject for me...”

But w̴̟̹̠͐̿̋ḧ̶̟́y̷̘͓͛?

“I understand.” Sonia nodded back. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just...do what you can to guide your people right.”

With that, he gets up.

“Sorry,” he said, acting on autopilot now. “I need to go.”

He doesn’t look back.

--

“Oh, Matsuda-san!”

As usual, Sonia looked delighted to see him.

“What a pleasant surprise!” she exclaimed, every word dripping with sincerity. “Come, come! Sit with me! There is much I wish to discuss with you!”

“Yeah?” The closer he comes, the more she can see her stack of books. Quite a few of them have been shoved away, but the other titles—there actually seemed to be a couple of romance novels and recognizable manga. “What about...?”

Those are titles that have been adapted into TV dramas.

“The friendship between men and women as depicted in Turn On The Heart,” she explained. “If you do not know that title, then will a different J-drama suffice? Perhaps one of these?”

She offers one of the manga. Her intentions are clear, and he truly appreciates the gesture—but he’s read that title. It was one of the worst fucking things he ever skipped through. The love interest in it was just scary. And he was a spoiled rich brat. Urgh.

But the princess really isn’t that bad. She’s really trying to get along with me. Not a lot of people have done that unless they wanted in my pants or something.

He’s not so fucking full of himself that he’d assumed a goddamn princess would be interested. That, and he’s conscientious of that shit to begin with. Sonia was just friendly, not flirty.

“I do mostly read manga,” he said. “I guess I could recommend a title or two that’s been adapted?”

I haven’t watched a lot of dramas actually. I’ve had them going on in the background, but that’s...

His sharp eyes do notice the titles that Sonia had pushed away. They were various studies on cults throughout history. And an anthology on ghost stories.

“Matsuda-san.” When Sonia spoke, her tone was low. She stood up and bowed, making him jump. “I wish to sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart! If I could, I’d throw myself at your feet! Alas, it’s improper for a princess...! I’m so fucking sorry!”

“Wow.” He didn’t even know how to respond. “If this is about what happened last time, it’s fine. It’s water under the bridge. I...”

I actually—don’t remember what happened. I ended up taking a lot more pills than I should’ve.

“Still!” Sonia exclaimed, shaking her head. “I asked you a very inappropriate question! It was quite uncouth! Thus—I wish to make out with you for it!”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, meaning it figuratively and literally. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?!” Sonia’s frown deepened. “I... Despite my status, here I would like to be equals, Matsuda-san. Is that not possible?”

Equals, huh.

“When I came to Japan, I thought I could be considered a normal girl,” she said, and it sounded like a confession. “Perhaps...that had been...immature of me.”

It is immature, Matsuda agreed with as he bit his tongue. It’s beyond fucking immature. Even if you learn the language and go along with trends, you live in a fucking castle, Sonia. That’s not normal at all. Normal people are one bad fucking month away from losing everything they care about. It’ll take more than a damn month for a monarchy to topple. Especially one that’s absolute.

“If you insist so much, can I ask you a question?” He studied the way she perked up. How annoyingly eager she was to hear it. And how he—“It’s not going to be a pleasant one.”

“As long as it is about my personal inclinations or government secrets, I am willing to speak about it,” she told him, smiling sweetly.

She really was so painfully sweet sometimes.

Ä̷̮̖͇́̅̅͝ ̷̬̎̽c̴̨̛̥̳̙̔̈̊ͅo̵͕̤͠ṃ̵̻̒ͅp̸̭͕̽͝l̸͍͈͎̀è̶̛̝̫̒͗͝t̸̗͒̂̐e̴̛̳͔̾͐ ̵̧̼̐ô̸̞͇̖͋̽̀́ͅp̵͉̘͗̅̍͝p̴̖̙͑̊̒̆o̸̧͙̹̘̠͂s̴͈̀̕ị̶͇̅͛͝t̶͉͊e̴̲͈̩̫͠ ̴͔̺͔̙͗́̓̓̋f̶̺͂̚͘r̴̛̘̾͝o̶͍̭̯̖͐̐̓͛m̶̳͑̋—̷̱̘̩͙͓̇͒̏̋̉

“This isn’t your first time being kidnapped.”

It hadn’t been a question, despite himself. But a statement. A statement that drained all that sweetness from Sonia’s face, leaving behind calm stoicism. She looks so at ease and unshakeable that Matsuda could draw several conclusions if he wanted to.

But it seems tacky to make assumptions about what were traumatic experiences, regardless of those involved.

“I’ve read up on your country and there were reports of the royal family being abducted by insurgents,” he said, keeping his voice level. “It hadn’t mentioned those affected by name...but you were among them, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sonia spoke as if she were untouchable. “I was.”

“No wonder you’re so damn calm about all this,” Matsuda went to remark. “It’s not your first time. And...quite fucking frankly, this is literally the Bahamas of hostage situations.”

“Haha, I do not think we are in the Bahamas, Matsuda-san,” she replied, casual—but still with that flaring distance. “I believe we are in the middle of the Pacific, rather.”

...hah.

“That’s not important,” he snapped. “What was important was... Clearing the air, so to speak.”

“I see.” Sonia agreed with him like he’d kill her if she didn’t. “Then, have I been to your satisfaction, Matsuda-san?”

Matsuda stared at her. He reached out, and she didn’t even flinch. Not even when he snapped his fingers in front of her. Impressive, honestly.

She’s completely shut down.

“Do you want to talk about dramas? I kind of enjoyed Hana-Kimi.”

Sonia blinked, and it was like nothing happened at all. Especially with how she went back to smiling as she always did, dazzlingly open and amicable.

“I haven’t heard of it! Please tell me all about it!”

“If I remember correctly there were like, four adaptations, the first Taiwanese and the most recent a K-drama, actually, so...”

The two of them chat lightly like this for a while. Like a normal pair of high schoolers.

--

“Greetings, Matsuda-san! I have read the illustrious Hana-Kimi! And! I enjoyed it!”

“Good to hear...”

“There is much I wish to discuss about it!” Sonia exclaimed, but there was something strange. Her smile was so wide it looked strained. She was wearing more makeup than usual, especially on her cheeks and around the eyes. “I would also like to hear more recommendations, so...”

“Rough night?” Matsuda asked, and Sonia shut her mouth.

For a second, Sonia looked lost before she gave a weak laugh.

“Ahaha, I should’ve known that Matsuda-san would not be fooled. You’re quite sharp, after all. It’s one of the reasons I admire you.”

“Did you want me to pretend nothing was wrong?” Matsuda huffed. “I’d rather you not have to force yourself around me. With how shitty my attitude is, I’d be a hypocrite if I expected everyone on their best behavior....especially in this situation.”

“Truth be told, I do not mind it,” Sonia murmured. “In a way... I find it refreshing. Around Matsuda-san, I can just scream at the top of my lungs—Jesus Fucking Christ Bastard Of A Fuckity Fuck Bitch! And you wouldn’t bat a tongue-lash!” She took a deep breath. “That said...if we are to discuss further. I’d prefer we do so in my cottage.”

“Fine by me,” was Matsuda’s immediate response. That was all there was to it.

Without another word, he followed Sonia to her cottage. She led him inside, and the interior was so fancy that he felt like he’d be stoned if he didn’t remove his shoes right away.

Polished floors, elegant rugs, ivory silk sheets, and plush furniture—even a damn chandelier hanging about them... It at least looked like the inside of a high-end hotel suite. Even the way plants were arranged from the ones hanging from the wall to the potted plant in the corner and the vase on the table by a wide-screen television felt so prestigious and artful.

“Would you like a seat?” Sonia asked, indicating a loveseat that definitely costed more than he could get selling his ass on the street for a week. He sits down on it anyway. It’s annoying supple, and he can’t help but relax. Sonia is giggling at him, “I apologize for any messes. I am still getting a handle on cleaning as it were. And the shower.”

The rug had been a little damp under his feet. She must’ve accidentally flooded the floor. He should probably help her wash it so that it didn’t contract mold, but... There were more pressing matters.

Sonia clearly wanted to speak to him, but she was just standing there. Fidgeting and wavering.

“Nightmare?” he guessed. “Homesickness?”

“Both,” Sonia replied, chuckling a little. “As well as—that conversation we had earlier...weighing on my mind...”

Matsuda clicked his tongue but said nothing. Gave Sonia the time to take a deep breath.

“Back then, I was not permitted to show fear for my people’s sakes,” she recounted. “I was, after all, a princess before a person. But here... I do not know what I should do. Must I wait in silence for rescue? Shall I allow myself to scream and cry?” She was fidgeting. No, she was trying to distract herself from how badly her hands were shaking. “Say, Matsuda-san... You are...quite intelligent. And you never—you do not sweet talk. Tell me...what I should do.”

Matsuda stared at her. She kept her head bowed.

“Fuck if I know.” Matsuda sighed loudly. “Like holy shit, why you think I’ll know what to do? That’s illogical as fuck. You’re just being a coward by forcing someone else to make the decisions, princess.”

“I am aware,” she whispered.

“I’m not Togami,” he said. “I’m not going to seize control and tell everyone that it’s going to be fine. I’m...”

...not going to lie about that shit.

“I thought not.” Sonia laughs again. It’s almost an ugly sound. Scratchy and unbalanced, completely unbefitting and yet—perfect in this situation. “Matsuda-san, you may have the signals of a legendary hero... But, in reality, your scowling face is too remarkable.”

...

...

...

...

...

...

What the fuck did that even mean?

“The legendary hero of legend,” Sonia reiterated with the utmost seriousness. “The only fault with that—is your face, Matsuda-san! It’s not just remarkable, it’s beautiful!”

What the FUCK is she talking about?

“I would still like to take you with me to my kingdom, once we escape from here,” Sonia went on. “Even if you are not a destined one, you would make for a wonderful advisor and companion. I wish to continue our conversations—and even if it is cowardly, I also wish to look towards you in times of need.”

What the fuck is going on?!

“I...” He’s confused. He’s so hopelessly confused. And yet... And yet... “I heard the medical practice in your country is nothing to sneeze at...so I can’t deny being interested.”

“Splendid! Then—let us continue working together, Matsuda-san!” Sonia clapped her hands. Another dazzling smile, an even more radiant laugh. Just like that, she was back at peak princess. “Ho, ho, hey!”

“Hey, hey, ho...”

Despite that, there’s a lot unsaid. We haven’t really talked, either. We’re just pushing on with forced optimism, filling our heads with empty reassurances and promises in the hope that it’ll be enough to carry us through.

It could very well be. In a situation like this, keeping ahold of one’s morale was pretty fucking prudent. Even if he and Sonia knew shit all about how to lead, they had no choice but to keep stumbling and scrambling. Hoping for the best.

Sometimes... That’s all we really need.

[terrminallycapricious]

Gamzee: Get rid of her.

Gram was surprised he even slept for a single hour. Waking up, he didnt want to waste any time. He fed the dogs, fed the snake, fed the kitten. Got this and that done in the house, before getting ready to go to Alternia once again.

Can't be too careful, so he slips on full protective clothing. Nothing heavy, or anything. Just to cover his exposed skin enough, except his head. The sun wasn't up, that wasn't the issue, here. Though, he wishes he had some bulletproof vests or something. Oh, well. The boots are the last to go on, and he's out to the transportalizer, putting in the coordinates, and appearing in the nearest port closest to the palace.

Stepping off and making his way closer, his heart starts to race, knowing what hes going to be doing. Luckily, things don't seem horribly busy, but a few trolls keep noticing him and talking amongst themselves, pointing. The Empress may be alerted before he even goes there, not like she would hide, though. She has way too much pride to be hiding or stepping down in any way. Soon, that won't be even a thought.

Gram makes his way straight into the palace. Guards run up to him, not too many, but he is now in full focus. He shoves away guards, some he just ignores quick enough to not get hit or shot. He didn't want to wear himself down using his power already for just the guards, so hands are good enough. Some poor guards even suffer a large claw wound from him, which makes gram have to shake his hand off before entering the throneroom as quickly as possible. The clown runs straight in the large doors, kicking out the guards, punching them, tripping them, just so he can close the heavy doors and lock them. He had learned how when he was working under the Empress. So much gold on them, though. Was that reaaaaally a good idea? Anyway.

Once those are closed, there are about 6 guards in the room, and outside the other currently closed doors, and there she is, the Empress. She knows exactly who is here, she doesn't need to see him at all. She sits up a bit more, looking in the direction she hears him breathing in. "You came back?"

Gram glared at her, and spoke in a sarcastic tone. "Oh yeah, I missed ya real bad. Can't stay away."

He walked up toward her, which makes her guards stand in front of her throne. Stopping in front of them, he stares in their eyes, like needles he fries their eyes quickly with his power, just as similar to the empress, though they were easier, and they have a chance of healing. For now, they hold their faces, going to the small block in the palace through the side door, for medical emergencies. Since Gram's last incident, they thought to move all that much closer to the throneroom. The other guards step in now, though hesitant seeing what just happened, and seen others they work for get harmed by this clown. One of them steps back to where they were standing, the other comes up to Gram, then backs up again once he gives them a look.

"Thats fuckin right." he laughed.

The empress looked down in Gram's direction once again, having heard what just happened, but not bothering to step in to avoid those guards getting hurt. "Do you plan on killing me?" It was almost as if she had read his mind, maybe she did.

Gram glared again. "I don't know, how far can I get?" 

Without letting her speak up, he starts up his chucklevoodoo once again. Going straight for the brain. She screams and grabs her head, and immediately kicks him down with her sharp heel. This knocks him down and makes it stop, grunting at the impact on the hard floor. Things start quickly. The other guards that were hesitating before, point their weapons at Gram. One shoots him in the same leg that he was shot in before, making the clown growl in pain. He got up, though, attacking the guard and knocking that gun out of his hand. He goes right for the guards neck, biting a chunk out of it and spitting it away. They were too in shock to bother to try to make it to the medical block, as they were bleeding out quickly.

"ANYONE ELSE WANT TO FUCKIN TRY M-"

He was cut short, not by a guard, but by the Empress, who kicked him down once again, aiming her trident right at his torso.

"You wont get very far, your friend is just going to have to come back to save you again. You already took my eyes from me, I wont let you finish the job, you filth."

Gram laughed and looks up the gold trident, and then at her face. Still with a smile, though he will admit he is afraid of getting hurt beyond repair, or at least, wont be repaired easily.

"Ya won't, 'cuz you dont know anyone else like me. I know you wanna use me for somethin, don't you? that would be a damn shame."

"You think I won't?"

"Yeah, no, that would be a bad fuckin idea."

"You haven't taken me down yet, and you wont. I can easily replace you. Goodbye, Gamzee."

He grabs her trident above the points, just right at the handle, and shoves it away, right as she stabs down toward him. This stabs into the floor, JUST right below his armpit. He lets out a goofy laugh, at just barely missing that. He rolls to the side immediately. She realizes she missed him and raises the trident toward where she can hear his footsteps.

"Havin trouble motherfucker? lemme fix that." Once again he aims his chucklevoodoo at her, with all he can put out, stronger than ever, driven by his adrenaline. She screams once again, grabbing and scratching at her own head. She tries to fight back once again which makes the pain worse, but it shoots back to gram. This makes him wince, but he doesnt stop. Not until she is down and not fighting. So much for taking her brain, hes sure it'll be like soup in there once hes done. She swings her trident and stabs wildly to get him to stop. A few times, her trident cut into his arm, his side, and one point of the trident even stabbed into his left shoulder. He grunted in pain, gritting his teeth together, but he still kept going. She finally fell after a while, unable to keep herself up from the pain. She couldn't fight back anymore, not after the damage from the first time that the others at the palace could not repair a hundred percent. The Empress did however have new bionic eyes being made, but now that won't matter.

Gram heard the other guards that were left in the room that didn't run off, coming at his back. Only two. His powers were still going hard, he looked away from the Empress only for a moment to knock those two down, which wasn't hard as they didn't expect it. Not the smartest guards you have here, Ma'am. He then turns back to her, continuing to fry her, coming toward her as he does, picking up her trident she was frantically reaching for after she fell. His eyes glowed brightly and he could feel his own eyes getting tired, his brain was wearing out. Now was a good time as any. he stepped beside her, and raised the trident high above her writhing body, and stabbed right into her heart as hard as possible, til it went all the way through and hit the hard floor. Once again she screamed, and lost her voice immediately. Clawing and grabbing at the trident, she tried pulling it out, with what life she had left. How could she let someone so easily take her down? It's all so pathetic, and embarrassing. She won the throne, she worked hard for it.

Gram pulled the trident out, and stabbed again, twice, into her mess of a heart. This finally silenced her. She writhed still a bit longer. Gram watched silently, stopping the chucklevoodoo. His new rainbow drinker DNA, was screaming hungry. This is what he's been preparing for. No time to think. He pulls the trident out, putting it in his sylladex, and drops to her freshly dead body. He bit right into her, drinking as much as his body could take. Gotta make SURE she is dead. If the other guards were still in the room, they're out now. Gram can hear them faintly panicking outside the doors, but all that's in his mind, is that she taste delicious. He goes at this for a while, until he is just about too full. Part of him comes in behind, and goes right for biting and chewing her flesh. Ripping it all to pieces, some he spits out in the bloody mess on the floor. What a messy eater.

She's unrecognizable at this point, and grams body feels like he's drunk. But his energy is high and happy. He laughed, sitting up and taking out a knife, cutting up what was left, taking bones, and putting them in the sylladex, one after another, until she looked like animals had gotten to her. He had also filled up a few bottles with the leftover blood, putting that away too. He stood up again, and by the time he did, he looked over, and there were terrified guards, and people who worked in the palace, staring at him. The news had gotten out already. He felt he had somehow intensely colorful tunnel vision toward them. But he didnt say anything to them, he just walked ahead to the side door, moving straight to where he knew the prison was. His own blood, and her blood and meat, dripping off of him. One thing he had in mind after he would be successful - Release the prisoners. He makes his way down, still having those keys he was given. What a fool Empress, never asking for those back. He took them out, and started releasing them, one by one. He didnt bother to speak, his mind was just on autopilot. He felt floaty, and he's just going to silently enjoy this til he can think clearer.

After maybe 30+ prisoners were let free, a lot less than last time due to some being sadly killed off, he scanned the area for more, then headed back up. It didn't seem like anyone was mad at Gram. Maybe scared. Some of the higher up people next to the Empress seem to have come out to the palace aswell. Gram tried to avoid them as quickly as possible. He will return soon, but for right now, no talking, just leave. He quickly finds the nearest port again, and puts in his coordinates, stepping on straight to home. He had just barely avoided those older trolls.

As soon as he was home, he laid right down on the floor in there. Just for a little while. God hes so full, and his head is spinning, not terribly though but it is. His body wants to get up and move around, do more, but it also wants to just lay here for a long time. Staying here is good. He'll treat those wounds later. Well done, Gamzee. You caused chaos on Alternia. Hopefully for the better. He has many plans for when he heads back, hopefully he wont be greeted with anything horrible. He was very very proud of himself, though. What's best? He didn't get horribly disfigured. Time to rest.

[phoenotopia]

2020 July Update

Things have gone slowly... again.

The good news is that the game is now submitted to the console "authority" and it's entirely off my hands. Once it gets through the console "checking" process, it can get a release date and we can sprint towards release. Until then, it'd be at least a month's wait or more until I hear anything. Understandably, their checking process is impacted by Corona, so wait times are increased.

On my end, I was also slow to submit the game. I submitted it late late June, since I ended up spending 7 weeks fixing bugs (and not 2-3 weeks like I estimated in the last blog post). There were just SO many bugs - now squished, thankfully. Since this is a blog post, I'll talk about what kind of bugs I've been fixing.

The other thing that slowed down the submission process was simply due to unfamiliarity with how these submissions proceed. There were pages and pages of stuff to read, guidelines to follow, and legalese to wade through. It really made me wish I had a publisher to guide me through the process. But I was able to clear it with a couple days work. I had an impression that the submission process went like A->B->C->D, with no room for concurrency. Turns out I could have done steps B & C at the same time and sped things up by 2 weeks... So that's that. I'm taking that as a lesson for next time.

The Console Revealed

What is this console that I talk about so stealthily? So that this blog update isn't completely unexciting, I'll reveal which console I've been working on until now. Drumroll please!

It's Switch!

We actually got the Switch dev kit in late 2017. From my understanding, around this time in the USA, the Switch kit was quite hard to get for indies as it was just starting out and high in demand. So I was surprised that my application got approved. I didn't know it then, but the game would still need a few more years of development...

Tweaking performance and fixing bugs

Here you can see my "expert" playtest setup. Since the Switch is more powerful while docked, I needed to playtest it in handheld mode, so I could catch and profile any problem areas where the framerate was unsteady. The most common thing that caused framerate drops were areas that went overboard with lighting. For these areas, I'd tweak or swap out the lights with alternatives that looked similar while also being less computationally intensive. Maintaining 60 FPS is a must!

An old camera (Nikon D3100) trained at the screen recorded my playthrough and would let me rewind to any moment a bug occurred. It could only record in 10 minute chunks, so I'd have to repeatedly repress the record button. On the plus side, because it's so old the movie file sizes were small and convenient.

The number one bug that I tracked and fixed in the past two months was what I dub the "Gear Ring De-equip" bug. The Gear Ring functions as customizable shortcut keys for the player to map items and tools (see an old video demonstration HERE). Through regular use of the inventory, somehow the equipped items on the Gear Ring would be de-equipped. It was an elusive bug since the de-equip event would happen very quietly and you would only suspect something had gone wrong much later. By then, the trail had gone cold and you weren't sure if a de-equip had actually occurred or if the player had simply de-equipped the item themselves. Two other playtesters noted that something left the Gear Ring in their playthrough, but I dismissed them. "Are you sure you didn't just de-equip it yourself?" It was a bug that bred mistrust and discord. I didn't truly believe it until it happened to me...

Luckily, with the camera setup, I was finally able to track it. In the literal 67th video, I caught a live instance of the bug occurring. After which, it was all too easy to recreate the exact same inventory and gear ring setup and replicate it.

(With this exact item layout, combine the 2nd item with the 14th item... and viola! Gear Ring de-equip!)

After fixing this bug, I then proceeded to fix it 5 more times. Every time I fixed it, it would later reappear through a different mechanism. 

Why do bugs like this happen? Underneath, there are two lists of items. Tools on the right and items on the left. Items can occur multiple times because they're consumable. Both lists start counting their indexes with the value 0. However, both items and tools co-exist on the gear ring. So to uniquely identify an entry you need both the item ID and the data index. Failure to check both data types resulted in bugs like the Gear Ring de-equip. Now throw in a bunch of item operations that can confuse the system. You can split items, combine items, swap items, or discard items. The more freedom you allow, the more ways there are for the system to trip up.

If you didn't get all that, that's alright. It was needlessly complicated. Imagine doing more and better and with less code and less bugs! Such a thing is possible if you start with the right design. I'm definitely taking notes here on how to design inventory systems for next time. In the meanwhile, I'm very confident I've squished all inventory related bugs.

Other bugs squashed and features implemented in the past 2 months include the end game arts not unlocking properly, collection percentages climbing beyond 100, stray doors floating in the sky, low HP sfx blaring when loading different files, balance tweaks on bosses, a max HP display when the menu is open - too many to count really! It was only after I fixed them all that I was confident enough to move forward with submitting the game. I apologize for the delay this will cause!

PC version back in progress

You may recall in the March 2020 update I talk about how in pursuing the Switch version, I unwittingly ruined the PC version. Well, since the game is "done" now and I'm waiting for it to go through the checking process, I've started working to reclaim the PC version.

And there is some good news to report. The PC version can compile again! Of course, it will need to have some work done, since it was late 2017 when I last had a functioning PC build. 

The opening menu is broken, the underlying save file system needs to be updated, and the controls... oh Lord, the controls. Controls were probably the #1 factor in pushing me to pursue a console version first. There are just so many controller options. Even just the usual suspects are numerous: Xbox, Nintendo, Sony, Logitech, Hori, 8Bitdo, Steam...

One of the number one complaints received regarding the flash game (which was keyboard primarily) was that I didn't allow controller rebinding to start. It was then that I learned of the vast array of different keyboard types.

(Ever heard of an Azerty keyboard?)

I shan't make the same mistake twice! One of the things I'll definitely tackle is the Right/Left face button feud when it comes to which should one should be 'confirm' and which one is 'cancel'. I want to allow the player to choose which is their "YES" and "NO" preference and allow that to overlap other actions like Attack or Jump.

Even after control bindings are taken care of, some things just won't translate well. The right control stick is currently used to access the gear ring and for fishing. Keyboards have no right stick. Aiming the crossbow with a full 360 degrees of range is done with the left control stick - if keyboard only, would the crossbow simply be locked to the 8 cardinal directions? What about those tutorial prompts with button graphics (e.g. "Press 'B' to Jump"). If using the playstation controller, it'd need to be the CROSS symbol. How many button graphics are we gonna load into the text module? What if the player, mid-playthrough, decides to swap out controllers? Indeed, there are many issues to tackle where controls are concerned...

Perhaps I'm overthinking it because even some AAA games get this wrong (Dark Souls has 'B' as 'Yes' on Switch, and it's not remappable, which I find quite annoying). I've seen games on consoles where the controls wouldn't mention the console's controller at all but instead mention a mouse and keyboard. Or, if you remapped the controls, the tutorial prompts still showed the old control bindings, making for a confusing experience. I definitely want to do the controls justice, so this will take some time.

Phoenotopia DISCORD Channels

Ryan and Firana have been running a Phoenotopia discord since late 2017, which I promoted on this blog once. It's been a couple years and it turns out that the old discord link I promoted expired. It's long overdue, but their channel could use another shoutout. Here's their channel : https://discord.gg/cnjrYST

Also, Khalid recently reached out to me about creating a Phoenotopia discord as well. I see no reason why we can't have 2 or more discords, so he has created that one with my blessing as well. You can find his discord here : https://discord.gg/cfnsCwy

I personally don't use Discords, since I'm very busy and there's too much new tech to keep up with. I hear there's a Tik Tok now? Should I create a Tik Tok for Phoenotopia? Hmmm...

Anyway, if you'd like to chat with other people who are similarly enthused for Phoenotopia, do check them out!

Fan Arts

We have five new fanart submissions this time around from regulars and new alike.

Cody G. returns with this pair of sketches of Gail. One seeks to answer the question, "how is Gail so strong?" Cody's answer is that under her sleeves she's actually really buff! This might be the most ripped rendition of Gail yet. Also, in the right drawing, the letter 'E' kinda melds with her bat, making it look like a keyblade!

What if Gale was a Shrek character? A new artist, Samu Kajin, from tumblr answers that question with a rendition of Gail sporting ogre style antennae. Samu Kajin says she can be called "Gaek" or "Shrale". I like the poncho!

Shafiyahh returns with a pretty portrait of Gail. Unlike their previous digital pieces, this one was made with color pencils! I like how her hair blends pink and purple colors together, and this pattern is also present in the eyes. Reminds me of a certain character. And the eyes are so sparkly despite using color pencils! Major props!

Negativus Core also returns with this relevant image of Gail, masked and running, presumably from Corona. It gave me quite a chuckle! I like the angle and tilt of this run pose because you can see the sole of her foot - that's how you know she's at full sprint! A skillful blur localized to her left foot show's just the right amount of motion. Gotta love the robot's expression too!

A rare 3D art has emerged. Dany Q crafted this adorable figure of Gail that is as cute as a button! I like how well it translates the pixel character over to 3D, capturing the 3 stitches on her shirt and even catching her stray strand of hair. It kinda reminds me of a Wallace and Gromit character, so I can picture it moving and animating in that unique claymation style.

Next Time

I'm ~80% confident we can clear the Switch console checking process and drop the trailer with a release date before the next blog post. But once again, if things go slowly, you'll hear from us in 2 months...

[maximuswolf]

A little bit of the history of U.S imperialism after the fall of the U.S.S.R via /r/communism

A little bit of the history of U.S imperialism after the fall of the U.S.S.R

The post seeks to explain the postmodern developments of American imperialism. It was originally made in Portuguese, transcribed to English quickly with Google Translate and I tried to fix all grammatical errors I could find. Many people come to this subreddit asking about Russia, Syria, Yemen and other specific countries. As such, I believe this post to be useful.

The major contradiction that surrounds the globe is that of American imperialism and the most diverse manifestations of anti-imperialism and counter-imperialism. The death of the USSR over a convulsion of multinational neoliberalism created the conditions for US neoliberal momentum and the submission of the globe to its will.

In Yugoslavia, the last bastion of European socialism (Portugal's '' socialists '' make us laugh at their austerity) was consumed by German-funded nationalist barbarism (with an interest in Croatia, Slovenia and its possibilities for projection into Eastern Europe) and American. The IMF's loans to Yugoslavia, as always, demanded neoliberal reforms which, to the dissatisfaction of such organizations, Tito and Milosevic only submitted to. A false image of the Serbs as mass rapists is created, sparing Croatian crimes; of Bosnia and Kosovars of media attention. Eventually, Yugoslavia is dismantled in a sinister threat to Russia. A puppet state for American interests is created in Kosovo, the extraction of mineral resources included on that program. Montenegro and Serbia gradually leave Russia's orbit (the former more than the latter) creating a tense geopolitical scenario.

The oil crisis in the 20th century proved to be the Bush administration's biggest concern, it planning invasions against Saddam Hussein and the Taliban even before 9/11. Saudi Arabia had become too big, too ambitious to be controlled by the United States. It financed Islamist terrorism and Wahhabi institutions around the world in a rejection of Westernist principles. The importance of Saudi Arabia for the free movement of oil, as well as its collaboration on many issues of international politics and the purchase of American weapons, prevented any possibility of extensive publication of these findings, even when the financing of Al Qaeda by the Al-Saud and assistance with its state intelligence culminated in 9/11. However, the ignorance of the American public could be exploited from the trauma of Al-Qaeda to "" fight terrorism and the nations that shelter it "" in a relatively disconnected way with 9/11.

In Iraq, Dick Cheney and other neocons were exhausted from Saddam Hussein's use of oil as a bargaining chip. By turning on and off the taps of black gold to erratically, crude oil prices threatened to rise, against the interests of refineries across the globe and possibly creating a global energy crisis (Iraq's oil importance cannot be underestimated, it is considered by some analysts greater than Saudi Arabia). The invasion of Iraq was not exactly aimed at the extraction of these oil resources by the imperial powers, although this was an important bonus that motivated the participation of the United Kingdom, but simply to put that oil in motion. China and Russia would soon take some of the pie with their state-owned companies, something not ideal but acceptable in the context of American interests.

In Afghanistan, a progressive socialist revolution with feminist characteristics was stifled in the Cold War with a blackest reaction supported by the USA. It did not interest the pastoralists and the old elites in Afghanistan the programs of the Sardur revolution and the United States gave moral support; financial and military support to their counter-revolution efforts. Afghanistan was not a Soviet republic, but it was part of its sphere of influence, hence the importance of fighting Afghanistan together with the vassals of Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, interested in Sunni uprisings. China has also financed opposition groups in its sad but understandable policy to combat Kruschevian revisionism. Eventually, Afghanistan was dominated by the Taliban and their female genital mutilation; destruction of Western icons (including a Greek heritage in Afghanistan until then) and a ban on music. The Taliban was only fought at the moment that it no longer collaborated with the US in the construction by USATCO of an oil pipeline starting in Uzbekistan and passing through Afghanistan, requiring intervention. Officially, the Taliban was hunted for cooperation with al Qaeda, which was real.

In Somalia, a war was declared on one of Somalia's first stable governments in the 21st century: the ICU, for its Islamist features. Thanks to its wealth of resources such as uranium and oil as well as its connection to the Gulf of Aden where much of the world's oil came from, Somalia has always been imperialized by the IMF and NATO. The local fishing industry has been destroyed both by radioactive waste dumped by European companies in the water and by the massive technological scale extraction of fish by foreign companies within Somalia's territorial waters.

Not all war is war properly said. Professor Gene Sharp's manuals created a guide on how to use civilian demonstrations, strikes and boycotts in the service of the CIA. The best example was the US incentive to the Cedar Revolution, a series of protests in Lebanon that put an end to the Syrian occupation, resulting from civil wars between religious and ethnic groups. Both Syria and Iraq were pan-Arabists, that is, they aimed at uniting all Arab nations in a single country, countries cut in half by the state of Israel. Secular and socialist pan-Arabism posed an obvious threat to the strategic interests of the United States and its allies Israel and Saudi Arabia, hence the opposition to Syria that would later become war. Note that there is no proletarian dictatorship in Syria and '' socialism '' means in practice a greater social democracy in intensity than in the West.

The Bush wars have claimed many lives, innocent or 'combatants', destroying the infrastructure of these countries and creating political instability. NATO's imperialist policy not only achieves its strategic objectives, it also destroys recipient countries. This is partly intentional, like negligent homicide. The destruction of Iraq and Afghanistan and, as we shall see, in Libya made possible both an initial expansion of the military-industrial complex that influences policy in the USA and reconstruction contracts that created inflationary cycles (that is, monetary expansion) that were taken advantage of by USA. They destroy and then rebuild, both phases of the capitalist process of avoiding contraction cycles by expanding the outside world.

One of the reasons that American imperialism went into crisis was that it went too far. The destruction of Yugoslavia, the creation of new oil routes in Afghanistan that deviated from Russia (on which the first world countries were highly dependent), oil penetration in Central Asia, the financing of anti-Russian politicians in Georgia and Ukraine...again and again the US has abused the world's second largest military power at its weakest moment. This context explains how Vladimir Putin came to power, a right-wing ultranationalist ready to recover Russia's strength not as a stronghold of socialism but as an imperialist force that falls short of the USA, at the taste of the domestic bourgeoisie. As a message, he invaded Georgia who planned to become a NATO member. Russia's recovery would have great implications for all of Eurasia, as we all know from the screams of the media and the heightening of tensions in Ukraine, always in the same West vs. East paradigm.

Belarus recently entered the Russia-US dispute. With a largely state-owned economy that never underwent neoliberal shock therapies (despite the lack of retirement among other capitalist aspects) and in Russia's sphere of influence, the relationship between the two degenerated by Lukansheko's resistance to Putin's attempts at absorption in a Union State, looking for new energy sources in Norway. This new vulnerability in Belarus was exploited by the imperialists through the traditional method of "promoting democracy" and Russian paramilitaries are known to be watching the situation.

Although the United States is not very directly involved, one cannot speak of Russia's geopolitics without mentioning the war between Armenia and Azerbaijan, which ended today (?) and lasted 45 days. But frankly, this issue is too complex for me. I will leave a link that I found useful: https://geohistory.today/nagorno-karabakh/#:~:text=The%20Republic%20of%20Nagorno%2DKarabakh,Azerbaijan%20that%20lasted%20until%201994.

Another country the United States has abused the patience of is China. The protests in Tiannamen Square were largely promoted by private charities associated with the West, and were harshly repressed by Deng Xiaoping. Thereafter, the terrorist-buying state of Turkey provided support to separatist Islamist terrorists in Xinjiang, a region of traditionally Turkish and Islamic China. The United States had previously provided assistance to the Tibetan insurgency under Mao, and continued to provide moral and religious support through its institutions. The US strategy with China was to dismember its diverse ethnicities into separate and enemy territories so that it will not be able to project itself geographically across Eurasia, unifying Tibetan separatisms; Mongolians; Uighurs and Hong Kong. Most recently, the US is attemping to force a color revolution in Thailand. Admitting this is no defense of the Thai monarchy but an understanding of its commercial relationship with the U.S and how installing a regime favourable to the West would be a strike against China. The U.S has also pitied Vietnam and China against each other whenever possible.

Like Russia, China has not been shaken by these attempts and has extended its economic and military dominance across the globe. The strong Chinese state-owned industry challenged the neoliberal models of growth and, through a policy based on non-interference in domestic affairs that contrasted with US imperialism, China attracted dozens of peripheral countries to its attention. Thus, we must understand the preference for China as a conscious rejection of the USA. The unified front between China and Russia represents the greatest challenge to the USA in modernity.

The endless wars of the USA could not be sustained indefinitely, requiring endless loans from the most diverse countries. Eventually, the irrationalism of bankers typical of neoliberalism created the crisis of 2008, with a deficit that required more loans and, consequently, more debt and more deficit. Income inequality has exploded. It was under these conditions that Barack Obama was elected, promising to resolve the insoluble contradictions of American imperialism on a progressive paradigm.

Obama did not comply with any of these proposals and in fact expanded the scope of the war beyond Bush, killing more people with drones. It is important to note that the war in Afghanistan was not over yet and Osama was not captured. It was in this context that Obama decided to replace soldiers with automatic drones that were supposed to promise fewer civilian deaths, and expanded the war to Pakistan to fight another Taliban front.

But the drones were more useful for saving the lives of American soldiers (which was probably the intention) than for Pakistanis and Afghans. Death from heaven created trauma for the local population, who avoided going to weddings because of the constant errors in recognition of drones. As stated, the US wars may not literally target the killing of civilians, but they are negligent in causing them.

Expanding the war in Afghanistan would not be enough and Obama declared three completely new wars: that of Libya, Yemen and Syria.

Libya had long been a stumbling block in the US. Allied to the USSR while it existed, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi had an anti-imperialist and socialist program of a similar nature to the one I described from Syria, that is, more of an intense social democracy than a dictatorship of the proletariat. Gaddafi also sought to overcome the tribalisms that divided Libya and harmful traditions such as the prohibition of divorce, by greatly expanding women's rights. Gaddafi criticized the democratic models of the West and proposed a controversial new model of direct democracy, Jamarihya. Regardless of the reservations that the reader has with this method, he was certainly more democratic than the Sunni Islamic terrorism that the United States financed in order to destroy this bastion of resistance to the Empire, consuming Libya in a civil war horrible enough for Obama to admit it as '' error '' in an abstract way. As always, European powers emerged from the air to protect oil. Gaddafi went through a phase of surrender and collaboration, dismantling his nuclear program, but he was still killed. This would serve to motivate North Korea not to abandon its nuclear program.

Practically the same thing is happening in Syria, both regarding the United States methods and in the nature of Bashar al Assad. The difference, however, lies in the support of Syria from the unified China-Russia front as well as from the regional power of iran. Only in this way has Bashar managed to stay in power. Iran is a non-secular Shiite nation that was imperialized by the United States under the Shah regime, being overthrown in Ayatollah Komeini's Islamic but anti-imperialist revolution. It is a regional power with large oil reserves and a respectable army, accused of financing the anti-Israeli group Hezbollah.

The situation in Yemen is substantially different. The Zaidi, a very significant Shiite minority in the north of the country who have a history of sovereign states in the region, threatened to expand a Shi'ite revolt over the Gulf states like Bahrain; UAE and Saudi Arabia, all marginalized economically and politically. Saudi Arabia installed a president favorable to its exploration interests, creating a spontaneous zaidi revolt that would be suppressed by the US-Arab junta. To justify the intervention, the US used the decontextualized motto of the zaidi groups of "Death to the USA, death to Israel" as a demonstration of religious extremism. Which is partially understood, but must also be understood as anti-imperialist reaction.

And that's it, folks. Does history end at Yemen? Obviously no. Yet my systematic knowledge ends here.

Submitted November 10, 2020 at 07:55AM by Ckaaiqoos via reddit https://ift.tt/35j2hzo

[themockingcrows]

Familiar Ch. 4: Birthday

This chapter is available on my AO3! John/Dave This chapter is SFW

As years pass by, surely it becomes easier to cohabitate with a former crow familiar. Right? Right?

    It was the morning of John’s sixteenth birthday, and the house was quiet save for the subtle thumps and clicks from the kitchen as Dadbert whipped up stacks of waffles for himself and the boys to celebrate. Some were confetti, sprinkles making warped colorful patterns, some were chocolate chip, and another stack was pumpkin and cinnamon. Different syrups were warmed and prepared in their containers, forks and plates ready to go. The only thing missing was the birthday boy, but if experience said anything it wouldn’t take long for him to rise and shine. Especially considering the extra help he had in the waking up section.

    John’s room has been altered to make room for the new roommate, a set of bunk beds dominating a far wall with John down below. As they’d grown, Dave eventually stopped cuddling up nightly to John in favor of nesting on the top bunk some nights, expanding into his own space as he learned and adjusted more to appreciate space and privacy when it came to his best friend. The first to wake and half the time the last to sleep was always Dave, and today was no different.

    In fact, he’d been waiting for some time for the perfect time to strike, waking near dawn and counting down time on the clock on the desk till it was a decent time to act. Six. Seven. Eight thirty. That had to be good enough time. Slowly he crept down the rungs of the ladder, wings flaring for balance on the way down before he climbed onto John’s bunk and straddled his hips. John remained deeply asleep on his back, arms flailed in different directions, lips parted so he could breathe deeply.

    Sleeping in was a thing of the past thanks to Dave, but a guy could sleep every day as if he’d get that magical extra hour in the end all the same. Just in case, he’d be ready to snooze with the best of them.

    Leaning down, Dave pecked John’s lips once, twice, three times waiting for him to wake up. He nuzzled his cheek and softly cawed, tugged the collar of his pajamas with his teeth since he lacked a beak, looking for signs of life. When he finally showed some signs of waking, Dave leaned back and cawed loudly, wings splaying, then dove back in to start tickling John’s sides with skating fingers.

    “Happy birthday!”

    Yelping, John woke all the way almost automatically and arched his back, squirming to get away from the onslaught as he laughed. Damn him for teaching Dave what tickling was, he’d literally never unlearned it and now it was a long lasting entry in his personal catalogue of tactics for attention.

    “I’m up! I’m up I’m up! Holy shit, stop ahahaha I’m awake!” he cried, swatting at the birdbrain who was perched on top of him with open hands. When the tickling didn’t stop John grew rougher, grunting and grasping Dave beneath the armpits to try wrenching him to the side. The tussle for dominance grew in intensity till there were wings and caws and laughing cries ringing out, which finally prompted the door to open, James in his apron with his own plate of waffles piled high.

    “Ah, I was wondering when he’d wake you up. Birthday waffle buffet is all set up, boys! Funfetti, chocolate chip and pumpkin. There’s also bacon and sausage on the side. Take as much as you want, there’s plenty.”

    Caught mid-fight Dave and John blinked and stared at each other in their tangled position before deciding that, yes, there WAS something more important at play here.

    “Waffles!” Dave cawed excitedly.

    “Happy birthday, John,” James said with a smile. “Let me know what you want your dinner to be, I’ll get the ingredients later on and whip it up special.”

    “Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” Dave crowed a few times more as he sat back on his heels with a playful smirk, letting John finally catch his breath as he sat upright. They made quite the sight, matching pajamas with needed alterations in place for Dave’s wings, hair wild and cheeks flushed.

    “Sixteen years old now,” chuckled James. “Quite the young gentleman now. Or are you too cool to be anything but a hip teenager.”

    “Daaaaaaaad.”

    Still smiling, James winked at him and swept back out of the room to go enjoy his food while it was still hot. John glanced to Dave, then sighed and shuffled out of bed to get dressed, tugging his shirt off.

    “You could’ve let me sleep in you know.”

    “Where would be the fun in that?” Dave asked.

    “It’s not fun, it’s. Come on, can’t I sleep in even on my birthday??”

    “Naps,” Dave offered as a solution, definitely to be helpful and not because naps were prime cuddling times for him to indulge in.

    "Yeah, I guess naps,” he sighed again, tugging on a clean shirt and a comfortable set of pants before leaving the space open for Dave. The blonde changed shirts with a bit of rustling before pulling on a set of sweatpants instead, feeling no sense of urgency to be well dressed for the day. All it would be was photographs probably, and he didn’t care how he looked in pictures so long as he could look at them later. Maybe this would be the year James finally trusted him with the special camera so he could take pictures of his own.

    Just because the last attempt had wound up with the lens being broken due to a butterfingers move on his part shouldn’t mean a lifelong ban. James wasn’t that kind of man, not that Dave could tell. He just needed a bit more time and practice and he’d wind up taking pictures good enough to wind up in the photo album too!

    Or maybe he’d get to have his own photo album full of things. ...Maybe he should ask about that later on after he’d eaten his fill of waffles.

    John and Dave went downstairs to the kitchen together to fix their plates, each stacking higher than they could probably finish before taking a seat near James. The kitchen was immaculate as ever from his cleaning as he cooked, and though the counters were crowded with plates and syrups and the sides things were spotless and lemony fresh underneath. He was a man who appreciated cleanliness of his home as much as he appreciated a good shave. This had led to some issues in the last few years, especially with Dave having a human form now, but he was always up for a challenge.

    “I know you’re cranky about birthday cakes still-”

    “Dad, please, tell me you didn’t do a cake,” John immediately said, horror crossing his face as he poured far too much syrup onto his plate.

    “I didn’t do a cake,” James said, watching Dave’s face fall. Darn it, he liked when James made big cakes. He always got to help lick the spoon or the bowl, and there was always crumbs to peck. ...Pick up. Not peck up anymore, pick up. The trimmings were always moist and delicious. “I made a pie instead.”

    Though John looked relaxed at first, he soon looked suspicious and cut a slice of waffle to jam into his mouth as he observed his father with narrowed eyes. “...What kind of pie.”

    “Lemon cream,” James said calmly, continuing to grin at John’s suspicion.

    Dave, confused, looked between the two of them while he happily ate. Something was going down, though he wasn’t sure what. Pies were always exciting! Would they eat it? Would they throw it? Hard to say, it depended on the mood and some unseen cue that Dave still wasn’t able to decipher, but at least it always resulted in some kind of tasty dessert even if it was whatever could be salvaged off John’s face and the pie tin before he scrambled upstairs to wash off.

    James never wound up covered in pie somehow. John’s aim was great, but with magic involved it always altered the trajectory. He trusted that someday John would deflect properly. Who knew, maybe he’d wind up covered in pie someday as well and join the family on another level that he hadn’t before.

    The two stared at each other for a moment longer before Dave interrupted.

    “John, syrup?”

    “John, can I please have the syrup,” Jame corrected with a smile.

    Dave frowned a bit, annoyed that he slipped back into basic habits. Darn it.

    “John can I please have syrup?” he asked instead, holding his plate up in offer.

    Distracted finally from the attempts at discerning his father’s potential plans with the pie, John blinked a few times before picking the syrup up and drizzling it over Dave’s plate. “Say when.”

    “John, you know he never says when,” James chuckled.

    “Oh, right. Yeah. Here, that should be enough to get everything,” John said before setting the container down. “Do you think we could have lasagna tonight for dinner, Dad?”

    “I don’t see why not. It’ll take a little doing, but there’s nothing quite like a homemade lasagna on a nice day like this.”

    The other unasked question was eating John alive. Questions, really. When would he finally get to practice with the car and get his license? Was he getting a birthday gift this year, or was he just getting money now that he was older? Would it be a surprise? Was it something he’d wanted for a long time? Would it be socks??

    There was no way it was hidden in the house somewhere, because Dave would have come across it by now during his daily scouting attempts inside and out of the house, exploring corners and crevices he hadn’t been able to when he was thumbless. John never tended to bother him when he was doing these things aside from checking up on him now and then. Dave never left without one of his toys in his pocket, so there was no cue for a meltdown, but he seemed content in tiny entrapped spaces. Once he’d even been found in the dryer, though he barely fit at the time, curled up as if inside a tire ready to take off down a hill, grinning with pleasure at his own antics.

    “Son, you’re getting older now,” James said. “An adult in your own right finally, and I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made over the years.”

    John stopped eating again, attentive, squirming in his seat.

    “And I think it’s about time I take you into town for some driving lessons, so you’re ready to use the car.”

    “WOO!”

    Dave, caught up in the excitement, lifted his hands the same way John was, fistpumping the air to share the thrill.

    “How would you like to take a spin later on? I know you already remember the basics from me teaching you outside, but if we find a nice empty parking lot we can get even more practice in. Learners permit will be easy to get afterwards, then it’s just a lot of practice till you get your license and I won’t need to be in the car at all.”

    “Dave, did you hear that? Just a while longer and we can do a road trip somewhere!”

    “Er. ...No, son. Dave has to stay here.”

    John’s face fell, though he stayed in place with his arms wrapped around Dave, simultaneously being wrapped in the same way by the bird. “Wait, what? I thought you said he could leave eventually with us..”

    “Eventually, yes. Once we figure out a good way of hiding his wings that isn’t just a simple cloaking charm,” James said. “He’d still be knocking things over left and right that way, and be showing a lump in other cases. We need something stronger, strong enough to pass detection by those keeping an eye out for things like him, before he leaves the house.”

    “Road trip! Road trip!” Dave cawed raucously. John stroked his hair, looking guilty.

    “Yeah. Road trip.”

    This was on him again, the ball once more in his court. If he wanted to be able to take Dave anywhere, he needed to find even more ways to change him. As if making him a humanoid hadn’t been enough of a blast in the face. He swallowed hard at the idea, suddenly a little less hungry than the mountain of breakfast in front of him from earlier suggested. It was his responsibility as Dave’s friend and his pseudo-owner to care for him and all his needs, and those needs would include being able to venture off the property as they got older. Even if it wasn’t  on his own, John wanted to give him a bit of the freedom he himself would be tasting soon.

    It was only fair.

    “Now now, perk up. We’ve plenty of time for that. For now, enjoy your birthday and we’ll take a drive later on.”

    “What about-”

    “...Dave can come with us,” James decided quietly. “We’ll find somewhere out of the way, and we can see about keeping his wings folded under a coat. I’m grateful they’re not bigger than they are. It’s not perfect, but it would at least let him tag along for this one time before we figure things out. So he’ll know where you’ve gone in the future.”

    That was a decent enough trade for the time being, John supposed. Dave was always a lot calmer knowing where John was at, so if he was off the property then knowing roughly where he was would probably help. Who knew, maybe the conversations Dave seemed to have with the crows outside could prove useful. Maybe the murder that seemed to shadow over the nearby town was keeping tabs on John and James both, letting Dave know what was happening where he couldn’t see, letting him know things were okay. That his humans were safe.

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

    John knew it was coming. He knew like he knew his own name, and there was no escape from it. The pie had been in the kitchen earlier in a metal tin instead of the glass one his dad liked to cook with best, settled on the counter after spending time in the fridge, keeping his father company as he readied pasta for the layers of lasagna in the baking dish. Then, it had been gone. James claimed he didn’t know what John was talking about, that he’d just put it back into the fridge to cool a while longer on second thought, but John knew better.

    He knew so much better.

    He’d snuck a peek around while getting a glass of milk he didn’t feel like drinking, and there had been no pie to be seen. A subtle spell from outside of the room didn’t give him extra sight to see where a cloaking was happening. It wasn’t in the laundry room or the living room, or even the car. The only places really left were the lounge and his dad’s room.. But the latter was definitely off limits.

    Especially with Dave following hot on his heels, not wanting to leave the birthday boy alone too long. Or alone at all, if the last bit of the crows entire lifetime had been any indication. Where John went, Dave was set to follow him without question or invitation.

    “Dave, you’ve got to let me know if Dad’s following us at any time,” he said urgently under his breath. “Try to focus. I know you’ve got the whole bird thing, but you’ve been around magic almost your entire life, you’ve got to have some kind of sense as my familiar.”

    “No Dad magic. Got it,” he said simply, confirming what he’d heard. It’d have to do.

    Slipping around the edge of the hallway, John slowly headed towards his father’s room, keeping an ear on the kitchen for the steady clinks and soft thunks of his cooking preparations, and quietly opened the door. His dad’s room was simple, boring in some ways, but fascinating when you looked close enough. Beneath the boring exterior were vestiges of his magic and different tools he employed while doing it. Places he’d explored, people he’d met, even memorabilia of the time he got perma-banned from Cirque de Soleil for causing a scene with magic when someone startled him with a pre-planned stage fall and he’d tried to help them while failing to cast a proper coverage spell to block the view. All they’d seen was a crazed man jumping the stage with what observers claimed was his hands on fire briefly, trying to grap at one of the aerial stunt divers.

    Truly, there was so much history in this room.

    “John, it’s you,” Dave said at a normal volume till John hissed and covered his mouth with a palm.

    “Shhhh! I- ..Oh, you’re right, these are my baby pictures,” John realized as he looked at some of the framed images. One shot with his mother made his smile  grow and soften, even now not over the empty feeling he got when he thought about what she must have been like, memory not able to go clearly as far back as she’d existed in his life. Another shot was him with Dave after he’d recovered, the crow covered in flour and John himself looking pleased as punch in the mess in the kitchen, a mixing bowl of what he was pretty sure was pancake batter on the ground where he could reach it. “Hey, this one’s you.”

    “I know,” Dave said with a grin. “I was happy.”

    “You were?”

    “Yeah,” Dave promised. “I’m always happy when you’re there. Even when I’m mad I’m happy.”

    John smiled a bit. ”Aw. That’s actually pretty swee-” He heard a creak behind them and his heart stopped, watching the door open with wide eyes. His father stood behind it with a pie in hand, the same pleasant grin on his face, and determination in his eye.

    “John, you know I don’t normally like you boys poking around my room when I’m not in here,” he chuckled. “But I wanted to let you know! It’s time for dessert.”

    “We haven’t eaten dinner yet,” John interjected, knowing his fate already.

    “Oh, no son, I think you’re plenty ready for dessert before dinner,” James said as he lifted the pie. “Happy birthday, John!”

    The pie flew with magic guided force, John raised his hands to try deflecting, but before the creamy concoction could splatter him head on.. Dave jumped in the way with both wings spread, taking the dessert full force to the face, splatters of it dispersing around his sides to catch John’s edges all the same.

    Everyone froze and blinked, watching Dave closely. That.. hadn’t happened before. Usually there was cawing or excitement, but Dave had never taken the dessert for John before. They weren’t sure how he’d react, if at all.

    “Uh. ...D. ...Dave?” John finally asked. “Are you okay?”

    “I’m sorry there son, I was aiming for John since he was expecting it,” James tried to say, as if this were somehow his fault and not from Dave leaping in front of the attack.

    Dave, still quiet, finally reached up to pull the pie tin off his face and rub his eyes clear of cream and lemon curd. He licked his lips, face a mask of sweet goo and fluffy cream, and crooned. “This is really good, Dad.”

    James exhaled a breath before laughing, stepping around them all to go find the camera, wanting to capture the moment. John still looked startled, but with Dave continuing to croon as he savored the fact he was getting to essentially eat the majority of an entire pie by himself, he supposed there wasn’t much to worry about.

    “Why’d you do that?” he had to ask.

    Dave blinked at him, licking his fingers clean. “Because you said to keep an eye out for magic and I didn’t know he was there. Then it was pie time,” he shrugged.

    “You… you didn’t have to do that,” John chuckled. “I mean, you know it wouldn’t have hurt me, right?”

    “It hurt my carpeting more than it hurt either of you boys,” James said, making sure there was film and that the lens was uncovered before coming closer to frame up the picture. “Now then. Say cheese, you two!”

    “Cheese!” Dave said, grinning beneath his mask as John leaned over to steal a taste.

    “Huh. Y’know, Dad, this was kind of a waste, it’s REALLY tasty.”

    “Good thing I’ve got another one hidden in the dishwasher then,” he said with a proud smile. “We can enjoy some slices with dinner once Dave’s all cleaned up and we’ve had our driving practice.”

    Once Dave was all cleaned up, huh? Cream was all over his wings, in his hair, probably in his ears. It’d take him a while to get clean. It’d take them both a while to get clean, he mentally corrected, as Dave reached a messy hand over to glom some of the pie onto John’s face. The camera clicked a few more times as they dissolved into flailing with shared pie goo, James laughing all the while.

    “Now, now, that’s enough, you’re grinding it into the floor haha. Both of you, go get tidied up. The Lasagna is ready for the oven now, I’ll pop it in just before we leave and it’ll be plenty ready not long after we get back. Sound good?”

    “Yes Dad,” Dave said, releasing the sides of John’s purse lipped face once he’d firmly wiped the pie off on both sides and the front of his shirt. Then, wings folding as if being coated in lemon curd was the natural state of things, Dave sauntered off to the bathroom to shower with John sighing as he followed, glasses removed and squinted eyes trailing the black and blonde cloud in front of him.

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

    “Dave, hold still, it’s not going to hurt you!” John complained. “It’s like when you have a blanket on.”

    “Blankets aren’t tight!” he cawed, clicking his teeth in warning for a bite before John reached up and popped the chewy into his mouth for him to angrily gnaw at instead of taking the potential injury to his hands or arms himself.

    “It’s a jacket, you big baby!”

    “Too tight! Let me use mine!” he growled around the toy in his mouth, close to spitting it back out to let it dangle around his neck so he could bite John after all.

    “John, just get him one of mine so he can have everything covered. We can’t have your wings out, remember Dave? Your jacket won’t work,” James reminded him gently from the kitchen as he applied a final last minute layer of cheese and seasonings to the top of the lasagna and covered it with tin foil while the oven preheated.

    The struggling slowly stopped as John stopped trying to shove the jacket into place and Dave folded his wings, disgruntled but willing to try alternatives. Especially if they were James’ alternatives and didn’t involve jamming his wings into small spaces. The replacement option was satisfactory, a long white trench coat whose weight weighed down on Dave’s folded wings to smooth the lump on his back considerably. It was comfortable enough, he supposed, and the added flappability of the overly long sleeves was appealing. Dave cawed softly in approval and let John securely tie the belt around his waist.

    Soon enough they all bundled into the car, John eagerly in the passenger seat and Dave buzzing in the backseat with his face pressed into the glass of the window. They drove away from their well loved house and down the bumpy dirt and gravel road to the paved road, then to the highway. Dave’s eyes were massive as he watched the other cars come close and pass them one after another, coming and going in so many colors. There was one brief moment of James needing to remember the child locks for the back seat to prevent Dave rolling the window down any further than he already had, wanting to feel the wind on his face and through his hair as if he were flying again, but otherwise the trip was simple.

    “I remember here,” Dave said as they pulled into an empty parking lot of a defunct mall. “And there too,” he added, gesturing to a McDonalds down the road. “Good food.”

    “I’m glad we took you in, your diet no doubt added to your original longevity,” James chuckled as he parked the car and turned off the ignition. “Now stay put for me. John? Come on over, son. Let’s try some starts and stops, and some parking. I’ll get in the passenger seat instead.”

    Eager as ever, John darted around to the front of the car, clumsily sliding over half the hood before slipping down onto the bumper and nearly crashing to the ground before saving himself and making it into the driver’s seat to buckle up. Dave, once again, was bouncing and cawing raucously behind them as James took his seat and did the buckle as well.

    “Right. So. Turn it on,” John murmured, running through steps in his head. “Then… brake, shift to drive.. And gas.”

    The vehicle smoothly went into motion with only a few initial anxious wobbles, the brief realization that he was piloting a thousand pound death machine with his father and his best friend inside of it catching up with John, before smoothing out and gradually picking up speed at James’ coaxing. The turn was a bit sharp at the end, making everyone tense up and hold their breaths, but subsequent attempts were more in control. By the end, John was even managing basic parking, backing up, and some parallel parking thanks to his dad and Dave both standing out marking the ends of where he was aiming.

    All in all, a successful day.

    Dave grinned and untied his coat near the end, flinging it open to stretch his wings out before the ride home, only to be nearly tackled by James tucking it back into place.

    “Ah ah ah, I’m sorry Dave but no. Not here. Not right now. I know it’s not the best, but try to hold on till we get home..”

    “Dad, can’t you just cloak him till we get back? He’ll just be in the back of the car,” John said from the driver’s seat as he parked and shut off the car to get out. Dave went wide eyed and nodded.

    “Please? Itches.”

    James sighed.. and nodded, raising a hand as he let the coat fall to apply a quick cloaking spell. As if melting away, Dave’s wings disappeared from view, leaving only the cut open back of his shirt. It was strange seeing Dave that way, John decided. No wings on his back, Dave looked naked in some way, vulnerable with his red eyes and wild hair, skinny frame and slightly stooped posture. Nothing was tethering him to the world anymore when he just looked like an out of place human instead of an out of place angel.

    “Hurry into the car though. You never know who’s watching,” James urged, handing Dave the trenchcoat before making a shoo gesture with both hands. “We’ve got lasagna waiting on us at home.”

    Dave remained outside of the car for another minute, just enjoying the wind in his hair and through his unseen feathers, savoring being somewhere familiar before he finally got into the vehicle as well and buckled up. He felt like someone was watching him and looked around, but let the feeling fall. Nobody was out there but the three of them, and besides: there were more important things afoot.

    “Lasagna!” he cawed, appetite more than awake by this time.

    “Yep. Lasagna,” John said from up front. All in all? A great birthday. He hoped the future ones could be as peaceful.

[katieclark27]

Gloria Steinem: the ultimate public intellectual

What does it mean to be a feminist today? When you think of how feminists are perceived in the classroom, at home, through the eyes of the media, or in politics, how do you feel? I feel hopeful — hopeful that women, particularly well-educated, strong women, will change the way females are represented politically, academically, creatively, and socially. With every women’s rally, march on Capitol Hill, or a new elected female in politics, we make progress towards fair representation, equal pay, the right to choose, and so on. But being a “feminist” carries a tremendous amount of dangerous weight. Many still hold the belief that feminists argue for female superiority. Feminists endure a large amount of oppression, backlash, and persecution. In some spheres, identifying as a feminist will give you an invisible “target” on your back — you threaten patriarchy, the system, or gender and social norms. We have certain individuals in our society who take the oppression against females and fight harder against the backlash — Simone de Beuvoir, Betty Friedan, Oprah, and Emma Watson are all women who boldly fight for gender equality. We are fortunate enough to currently be entering into fourth-wave feminism, a sector of feminism that recognizes intersectionality. Fourth-wave feminism is changing how equal gender rights are perceived in the workplace, in the media, in education, in politics, and so on. Fourth-wave, which began in 2012, acknowledges the complex and intertwined systems that contribute to the oppression of highly marginalized groups. More specifically, we must understand that to be a woman of color is more “difficult” than it is to be a white woman. When we look at feminism through an intersectional lens, we see factors like race, socioeconomic status, age, and disability all playing a factor in how certain groups are more oppressed than others. So, who helped us get to fourth-wave feminism? How did we get to this modernized definition of feminism where all types of women are accepted, acknowledged, and advocated for? Perhaps the most famous feminist of all time — Gloria Steinem. Steinem is a feminist, a journalist, a political leader, an esteemed academic, undercover writer, and an author. Simply put, she is a “big shot” in the world of feminism. But she’s not particularly special because she is all of these things at once. Steinem advocated for women so fiercely in the world journalism, politics, academia, and writing that feminism’s trajectory has changed because of her. Steinem’s main thought, that the purpose of feminism is to free the unique qualities within a person and see that both men and women are complex, alike, and independent, is the reason why fourth-wave feminism exists. Rather, once we notice how unique we all are, and how some are born more privileged than others — we can accept, progress, learn better, and understand. 

Steinem spent the beginning of her Journalism career fighting for a voice in the news-room. In a field dominated by white men, Steinem struggled to write news-worthy, meaningful stories as her writing was considered weak. She was assigned to articles called “the women’s pages,” where she wrote about lifestyle, wellness, fashion, and nylon-stockings. Constantly seeking to write something with purpose and intention, Steinem finally gained attention when she worked undercover at Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Club in 1963. In her expose “A Bunny’s Tale,” Steinem revealed the sexist, unglamorous, and underpaid lifestyle of “the bunny.” So, what was Steinem’s purpose of writing this muckraking reveal? Her objective, at its core, was to prevent men from defining sexuality. If men are the only ones who determine what it means to be a sexual woman, female autonomy is jeopardized. To uncover sexism is to revolutionize females. The ideas behind “A Bunny’s Tale” were not to popularize the Playboy Club itself, but to diminish its founding principles that women are for the male gaze or for male entertainment. She interviewed the bunnies — without makeup or costume — and discovered each woman was a complex, unique individual with substance, meaning, and background. She started the conversation that females are strong and capable, but underrepresented and accounted for. After gaining national press, Steinem was able to continue to shine light on the inequalities females face. She started New York Magazine, where she reported on women’s rights, progressive social issues, and political campaigns. Steinem aimed to make it evident that things absolutely matter. The language we use, the history we reference and the truths we hold, all add up to a large superstructure of how we interact as men and women. Therefore, language is fragile. Be gentle but truthful with the words you use — treat language with respect, because it holds tremendous weight for how we see ourselves and the world. Steinem dedicated her journalism to women’s rights. She used journalism as a platform to discuss ideas about gender and equality, and people listened. Some found her politics defiant and disorderly, others found hers to be refreshing and new. However, regardless of how you perceived Steinem, she understood that getting people to hear her ideas was the ultimate goal. Specifically, it’s “not whether the people are listening, but whether they’re hearing things worth talking about.” She was controversial in the fact that she saw everything as gendered. She often remarked how journalism is supposed to be unbiased and balanced, but this is wrong. This idea contributes to male domination. If we see journalism as having two sides, then we are creating a gendered perspective on news. There are never “two sides to every issue.” There is the truth. Steinem used journalism as a way to communicate ideas on money, power, sex, greed, poverty, love, and age. Her most famous piece, “The International Crime of Female Genital Mutilation,” which was published in 1979, unveiled the 75 million women suffering with the results of genital mutilation. In her article, Steinem articulates: 

“the real reasons for genital mutilation can only be understood in the context of patriarchy: men must control women’s bodies as the means of production, and thus repress the indepdent power of women’s sexuality.” But Steinem also defends men’s sexuality as well: 

“these patriarchal controls limit men’s sexuality too … that's why men are asked symbolically to submit the sexual part of themselves and their sons to patriarchal authority, which seems to be the origin of male circumcision, a practice that, even as advocates admit, is medically unnecessary 90% of the time.” 

Her ideas are extreme and progressive. Discussing genital mutilation was radical in 1979. News was supposed to be conservative or traditional. But Steinem saw the future as a time for freedom of thought and change. If we can expose the danger within societies that have genital mutilation, we can fix the issue at hand: patriarchy. Her journalism also critiqued pornography. She explains that pornography exists because the drama and tension within porn come from the idea that one person is dominating the other. There is no equality in pornography, just control. Steinem’s entire brand is exposing how corruption affects women. She is blunt, outspoken and explicit — but change occurs when we are transparent. She recognized that news can only be informative if it evokes change and emotion — do not sugarcoat patriarchy (even if the topic at hand, like pornography or genital mutiliaton, is controverrsial). Steinem took her straightforward and candid rhetoric to create the iconic feminist magazine Ms., in 1978. Her most famous essay, “If Men Could Menstruate,” reflected on the power systems that shape politics and the economy. She creates a world in which men have menstrual cycles and how this would shift power. Ms., created by women for women, was meant to highlight the various ways in which women are exploited. From opinion pieces about abortion to motherhood, Ms., displayed the female struggle in an honest, entertaining, and witty way.

Steinem understood that females are not free until political action occurs. If we are restricted by the law, in ways that men are not, we are in danger. We are controlled by two forms of power — political and social. Political power restricts our voice and how we perform in society. More specifically, political power is responsible for democracy — how we vote, female reproductive rights, the wage gap, and so on. Social power is how we are raised as men and women or who is viewed as the dominant gender. Both of these types of politics coerce us to act a certain way. Traditionally, women are meant to be homemakers, wives, or mothers. Men are the money earners, ultimate leaders, and fathers. Steinem saw these two behaviors as ideas we must unlearn. Rather, the first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn. In order to move forward, politically and socially, we must leave behind these learned behaviors that control how we perform. Steinem argued that marginalized groups, such as women or people of color, cannot advance if to be female is to be submissive, or to be black is to be inferior. Steinem saw much of our political system to be purely imbedded behaviors that intensely control our thinking. She then became the face of women’s rallies across America. Coining the term “pro choice” rather than “pro abortion,” Steinem made it clear that no female is for abortion — we are for the power over our own bodies. Steinem insisted that reproductive rights are the most important right of a woman: "opposing women's right to control our own bodies is always the first step in every authoritarian regime.” Steinem aligns closely with another famous feminist icon, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The two women, born in 1933 and 1934, see reproductive rights as a human rights, not a privilege. Both of these women hold the belief that you create change when you are vocal, outspoken, and strong willed. Their politics are controversial but controversy is their brand. Both exist in different spheres of politics — Steinem, in front of the camera, is on the cover of magazines and is an iconic activist throughout the media. Ginsburg does the work behind the scenes  — she sets the precedent for how women are treated socially and politically. They compliment each other perfectly, proving that activism does not exist without politics, and vice versa. 

Steinem stressed the importance of grooming future generations for a more progressive world. She comments: 

“we've begun to raise our daughters more like our sons, but it will never work until we raise our sons more like our daughters.” 

To raise “sons more like daughters” is crucial for feminism to continue. If we fail to teach boys skills like empathy, kindness, diligence, and cooperation — skills often deemed feminine — we set them up for failure. This is where fourth-wave feminism comes into play. Steinem’s view on feminism was never narrow. She perceived feminism to be applicable to both men and women. Rather, everyone has something to gain from being a feminist. Steinem was a global thinker. 

“she understood that race, class, and caste (she traveled for two years after college in India) tend to double and triple the degree of oppression to which women are subjected.” 

From this, Steinem worked relentlessly to create a system in which women from every race, class, and caste are supported. She preached the importance of women’s studies, black studies, and sexism just as much as mathematics, science, history. We cannot have a world where one field of study is represented — a comprehensive education is the key to progression. An education where students can view oppression and privilege through the context of their peers will create a world in which we can recognize our similarities and differences. From this, fourth-wave feminism is made possible through Steinem’s theory on intersectionality. This sector of feminism is defined by the recognition of race, class, and gender through education. If we do not teach future generations the importance of equality through education, we are basing feminism off of white women — which is not an accurate or fair representation of the female struggle. Steinem has remarked that black women have more commonly been feminists than white women. She comments: 

“Intersectional feminism examines the overlapping systems of oppression and discrimination that women face, based not just on gender, but on race, sexuality, socioeconomic status, physical ability, and other marginalized identities.” 

Because intersectional feminism recognizes factors like race, sexuality, socioeconomic status, and physical ability, marginalized groups are more likely to be feminists because they have been the result of systematic racism and sexism. Marginalized groups are subject to hate, persecution, or oppression. Steinem’s commentary only strengthens those who have been oppressed, and allows their struggle to become legitimate. This has changed the trajectory of feminism — would intersectionality exist without Steinem? I say no. Without her outspoken rhetoric, constant commentary, and controversial brand, feminism would look much weaker, narrower, and limited today. 

[greencrusader13]

All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 6 - The Two Masters

It’s a week late, but here is the next AWIO chapter. I’m uploading it a little earlier than the usual 2:00 PST since I’m going to head off to see Captain Marvel here in a bit.

Anyways, here we have another Eonur chapter, as well as the first appearance of an actual canon character from SWTOR. I decided it based on a poll awhile back, and I’m happy with the result; it works perfectly. Hope you enjoy!

           Another quake shook the interior of the ship, rattling a row of commemorative glasses arranged upon the shelves of Lord Rhoral’s quarters. Eonur had taken to a corner there, seated with his knees against his chest as far as he could manage from the Imperial guards that stood near the blast doors, their blaster rifles trained on whatever might come through them while watching a security feed of the outside hallway. Still he remained within Lord Rhoral’s inescapable sight regardless of how much he wished to be out of it. He found no comfort in the Sith Lord’s presence, only fear and anger.

           He wasn’t sure how long it had been since the Imperials announced the Republic ambush. The sounds of warfare and violence were well outside of his earshot, and no further reports had been made. For all Eonur knew it could’ve been over already.

           Lord Rhoral himself sat behind a row of polished silver chess pieces at a table in the center of the room, hand stroking his chin as he contemplated his next move against the golden pieces. No sooner had he moved a silver piece before reaching out with his power to move one of the golds to take the silver pawn he’d just played. His game had no concept of allegiance, not when he controlled both sides, and his victory was ensured. Eonur had seen his previous master’s household play the game sometimes against one another, but never a match between oneself.

           The Sith Lord’s amber eyes flicked up and locked on to Eonur. His expression remained neutral, if not intrigued. “I suppose it would be a foolish question to ask if you were familiar with this game.”

           Eonur kept quiet despite all past experiences having taught him that silence in response to a direct question often resulted in beatings. Lord Rhoral was probably capable of even worse, and yet Eonur couldn’t bring himself to answer. Fear, hatred, and anger constricted his throat and blocked all forms of response. Jowporin was dead by this Sith’s hand, snuffed out in an instant without reason.

           That was the worst of it, the senselessness. He’d seen many other slaves die before, some blasted or shocked to death from disobedience while others died of exhaustion brought on from days of intense labor. It was expected. Lord Rhoral had no purpose in killing Jowporin, nothing to gain from the violence.

           Lord Rhoral – as though sensing Eonur’s resentment – rolled his eyes in response to his silence. “Yes, yes, the wookiee is dead. Your rage will help you later, but right now you’re just wasting your energy.” In a firmer tone he added, “Sit,” and nodded towards the other chair directly across from him.

           Hesitantly, Eonur rose to his feet and climbed into the chair. Its deep red wood was unnaturally smooth, feeling more like polished glass than any sort of carving. The whole room held an air of refined hollowness, an insincere ornateness that belied something far more savage. Red carpeting covered the floor, the Imperial sigil in its center. The brightness of its color made it seem as though servants cleaned it regularly to a point of perfection. A shelf stacked with books and holocrons sat adjacent to Rhoral’s made bed, each volume arranged in a neat line. And yet despite this refinery, the Sith Lord hung the heads of various beasts and creatures the likes of which Eonur had never seen. Their faces appeared contorted, fearful even. Eonur felt himself shrink under their demented gaze.

           Lord Rhoral began resetting the pieces, paying Eonur no heed as he did. Despite the demonstration of his powers just moments before, he arranged the pieces by hand in simple movement that were as methodical as they were swift. When he’d finished, Eonur’s gold pieces lay in direct opposition to Rhoral’s silver.

           “We have time to spare,” Lord Rhoral said. “In the meantime, we can play while our soldiers put down the Republic’s hounds.” He then diverted into the rules of the game, explaining what each piece did, and how they moved. His summation felt of little help: by and large the game still felt unfamiliar, and Eonur knew he was playing against someone far better than himself. “The objective of chess isn’t so much about taking your opponent’s pieces as it is about taking the right pieces. Playing too aggressively and aiming for rampant destruction will only cost you your victory.” He locked eyes with Eonur once more. “Consider that a metaphor.”

           Eonur nodded slowly, dropping his gaze from the Sith’s. It was probably best to avoid mentioning that he didn’t know anything about metaphors.

           The first round went as well as he could’ve expected. Lord Rhoral dismantled any semblance of strategy Eonur put up with lethal ease, often seeming to know his next move before Eonur had even decided it. With a gentle flick of his finger Lord Rhoral pushed over Eonur’s king without so much as touching it. A wry grin spread on his face. “Again.” And he began setting up the board once more.

           Each subsequent match proved itself to be an exercise in futility. On occasion Eonur would manage to take one of Lord Rhoral’s pieces, only to then lose his own in the process, followed by several additional losses. All the while the Sith sat across from him, amused. Neither of them spoke, and the only sounds were those of the battles occurring on the ship and the board.

           After one game Lord Rhoral looked up at Eonur, his expression one of annoyance. “You play weak.”

           “I’m still learning,” Eonur grumbled, focusing his attention back on the chessboard. He reached for his pieces, only for Lord Rhoral to slap his hand away. Wincing, Eonur nursed his stinging hand.

           “You play weak,” Lord Rhoral repeated. “I’ve watched what little strategy you possess closely. Many times you were in a position to cripple me, dull my advance, even gain the upper hand, and all you had to do was sacrifice a pawn. Yet you refused. I wonder: was it stupidity or weakness that stayed your hand?”

           “I’m trying not to lose pieces.”

           “They exist to be your sacrifices. They are to be disposed of in pursuit of victory. They mean nothing.” Lord Rhoral rapped his knuckles on the chessboard with each word. Bated anger emanated from his cold glare, and once again Eonur felt afraid of the Sith.

           But the more he thought on Lord Rhoral’s words, his fear gave way to anger once more. He’d heard a similar line of thinking from his masters in the past, from his underlings and anyone who answered to him. Slaves were nothing. Slaves were expendable. They existed only to do the work of their master, whatever the toil or cost.

           And Lord Rhoral had treated Jowporin as such, as nothing, and had killed him as such. The Empire had planned on using Eonur himself as a pawn in their siege, and he likely would’ve been sacrificed to their ambitions too if not for Lord Rhoral’s notice of him. Eonur only lived because the Sith saw him as potentially more useful than as a sacrifice.

           Eonur knew what it was like to be considered nothing, and knew it to be wrong. Jowporin had meant something to him; he had mattered.

           “I don’t want to play your game anymore,” Eonur said.

           Lord Rhoral said nothing at first, fixing Eonur with a cold gaze that seemed to drain all semblance of life from the room. “In time you will. For now, there can be other ways you learn. Pain is a teacher second to none. You’ll be well acquainted by-”

           Sudden beeping from Lord Rhoral’s holocom silenced him. A distorted image of the same Imperial woman who’d informed them of the attack appeared on the disc. In the background Imperial brass were issuing frantic orders, and the destruction around them sounded closer than ever. “Milord, the Republic has boarded. We’ve lost the hanger bay, and Republic soldiers interrupted before we could finish arming the slaves for detonation. We’re sustaining heavy casualties.”

           Lord Rhoral shot to his feet. “How?” he snarled. For a glimmering second Eonur thought he sensed fear.

           “They have a Jedi Master with them. Our surveillance shows that he’s-”

           But she had no time to finish. A sudden blast cut off the rest of her words, followed by the sound of blaster fire. Silence followed, and Lord Rhoral was left holding the empty holocom in his palm. His wiry red fingers curled around the device, constricting it ever tighter until it was crushed in his hand. Blood oozed between the cracks.

           Eonur couldn’t help but take glee in Lord Rhoral’s defeat. Defiance emblazoned him with a previously unfelt courage, and he sat up higher in his chair. He was probably going to die – this Republic didn’t seem keen on taking any prisoners at the moment, but he didn’t care. Without Lord Rhoral it probably would’ve happened anyways in the battle he’d been bought for in the first place. Jowporin’s death would not go unpaid.

           “You lose,” Eonur said quietly.

           Lord Rhoral did not seem to hear him, instead staring at the opposite wall in a blank rage. His attention then snapped back to Eonur. “Get up,” Lord Rhoral seethed, seizing him by the back of his shirt with his bloodied hand and dragging him to his feet. Before Eonur could steady himself a crimson blade hissed to life mere inches from his neck, the weapon’s hilt steady in Lord Rhoral’s hand. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to fear Lord Rhoral.

           Yet the Sith Lord remained distant, now focused on the blast doors sealing out the Republic forces more than anything else within the room. Lord Rhoral’s hunger seemed to radiate through his very being. His bared teeth made him resemble an animal, one that eagerly awaited its cage to be opened.

           From the corner of his eye Eonur saw motion on the video feed. A man stood outside the blast doors, a deep hood obscuring his face from sight. Despite being in a warzone, he seemed to carry himself serenely, walking almost as though out for a stroll. His gaze drifted upwards to the camera, and with the slightest flick of his wrist he waved. Then he stretched out both hands towards the blast doors. Metal shrieked under as it was forcibly torn apart, the locks trying their hardest to sustain their function. The ship itself seemed to tremble from the Force the man wielded.

The Imperial commander in Lord Rhoral’s room barked an order, and the others rushed themselves into position, forming a horizontal line that wedged themselves between the door and the Sith. Whomever was trying to enter would face a firing squad.

Suddenly the blast doors were ripped open in a terrible wave of energy, the metal lurching inwards on itself as though made of malleable plastic. Eonur heard the striking hum of another blade, and an instant later a blur of blue cut down the soldiers faster than his own eyes could track. They fell in seconds, one after the other, leaving the man alone with Eonur and the Sith. The man remained posed for a moment with his blade across his chest, then shifted, bringing both hands to its hilt while guarding his body from them.

In a single flowing motion the man removed his cloak, and for the first time Eonur could see his face. While not considerably old, the lines under his deep brown eyes suggested that he was well past his younger days. He seemed to regard Lord Rhoral with cautious familiarity, and did not lower his weapon.

“Orgus Din,” Lord Rhoral said, his voice full of disdain.

“Rhoral. I see time hasn’t made you any more pleasant.”

Lord Rhoral raised his own blade slightly, the red beam humming even closer to Eonur’s neck. He shied away as best he could, but Lord Rhoral’s other hand gripped his shoulder’s too tight for him to move. “Another step and the boy dies. Could you live with that, Jedi? I know I can, and I was ready here to take him as my apprentice.”

Orgus Din’s eyes flickered to Eonur, but his expression remained resolute. “Lower your lightsaber and let the kid go. You’ve lost. Havoc Squad has already secured your ship, and many of your men have surrendered. We don’t need any more bloodshed today.”

“Insolent worm!”

Just then Lord Rhoral loosened his grip on Eonur’s shoulder. Acting purely on instinct he drove his elbow into the Sith’s side, staggering him. He dove to the side, scrambling into a corner while the Jedi took advantage of his distraction. Orgus Din closed the distance in a fraction of a second.

But Lord Rhoral moved just as fast. Their lightsabers clashed in a screech of energy, locking until Orgus spun away. They moved as a whirlwind each of their strikes matching evenly with one another. Eonur watched – amazed and terrified – as their battle unfolded, Lord Rhoral’s savagery on full display against Orgus Din’s disciplined technique. He could sense desperation from the Sith, fear even.

Orgus lunged and, with a twirl of his lightsaber, sent Lord Rhoral’s flying from his hand, sheathing itself as it flew through the air. It rolled towards Eonur’s corner, clattering as it came to a stop at his feet. The Jedi pointed his blade at the Sith’s throat, but did not make the killing blow. Lord Rhoral raised his hands meekly, pathetically.

“It’s over,” Orgus repeated.

“All right, I surrender,” Lord Rhoral said. “Take me into Republic custody if you wish. Please show me mercy.”

“I’m surprised you know what mercy means, much less that you’d expect it to be given to you. I thought the concept was lost on Sith.” Still Orgus Din lowered his lightsaber and began his approach.

Eonur saw Lord Rhoral’s fingers twitch, and his lightsaber trembled in accord. In seconds that felt endlessly stretched it leapt into motion, hurdling towards Lord Rhoral’s hand as the crimson blade raged back to life before Orgus Din could react.

“No!”

Eonur reached out as though to catch the lightsaber before it could take flight, though it was far from his physical grasp. As though hearing his cry the weapon froze, suspended midair between the space separating Eonur from Lord Rhoral. It shook violently as Eonur’s will fought against the Sith’s, and it seemed as though it might burst into shards at any moment.

It was all Orgus Din needed. In a swift motion he slashed Lord Rhoral deep across the chest. The Sith fell, the diagonal burn still sizzling as his body hit the ground. Eonur couldn’t sense anything from him anymore. He was dead.

With a heavy sigh Eonur fell to his knees. Lord Rhoral was dead. Jowporin had been avenged, and he didn’t need to fear the Sith Lord anymore. The surge of emotions forced tears into his eyes, and Eonur watched as they fell to the carpet in single drops.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his gaze up. The Jedi – Orgus Din – watched him, eyes full of sympathy. Eonur shuddered, then without meaning to he wrapped him into a tight hug.

“Hey, you’re safe now,” Orgus said, patting Eonur on the back. “Did he hurt you?” Eonur shook his head. Orgus then guided him back to his feet, his hands firm on Eonur’s shoulders. “That was some quick thinking you did there. You probably saved me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. That was pretty handy of you, thinking to use the Force like that.” Orgus glanced around the room. “Come on, you shouldn’t stay here. Would you like to go somewhere safe.”

Eonur hesitated. The last time he’d shown excitement at his situation improving Lord Rhoral had killed his best friend. What if these people – the Republic – were no different? He stepped back.

“You don’t need to be afraid. Where we’ll go there will be a lot of people who will help you, and you’ll be safe. Would you like that?”

He brought his eyes to meet Orgus Din’s again, making note of their serenity. Whereas Lord Rhoral’s had held barely restrained brutality and deceit, the Jedi’s felt pure, truthful. Slowly Eonur nodded.

Orgus Din rose to his feet with a smile and pulled out a holocom from his pocket. “Tavus, it’s Din. We’re going to need to take a detour back to Coruscant.”

[dcarevu]

Batman TAS: Vendetta

“Alfred! You’re beautiful!”

Episode: 23 Robin: No Writer: Michael Reaves Director: Frank Paur Animator: Spectrum Airdate: October 5, 1992 Grade: B

I love it when in Batman media, we get to see Batman solving mysteries. Particularly when it’s a little bit more involved than Batman simply putting something into his computer and having it shit out an automatic answer for him. I like to see him investigating a crime-scene, interrogating thugs, and exploring new areas. That is exactly what we got to see in the episode Vendetta, as Batman tries to figure out who is seemingly axing off different convicts that share some dark connections with Harvey Bullock. Because of these connections, along with some framing and some false evidence, Batman suspects that Harvey himself could be the one causing trouble, a concept that I feel was begging to be done. Bullock often suspects Batman as not only being untrustworthy, but sometimes even having a hand in specific crimes (see On Leather Wings). Here it is a reverse situation. Harvey didn’t do anything wrong (as Commissioner Gordon insisted to Batman, letting him know that Bullock is a good cop), so Batman, instead of immediately blaming him and going after him, takes his time, trying to make sure that he has the mystery solved. This highlights one of Bullock’s flaws, and that is his pride (which we have mentioned before). Once he suspects something, he has too much pride to consider other possibilities. And sometimes, these suspicions of his can get him into a lot of trouble like in the episode P.O.V. Batman, on the other hand, is much more unbiased when he is at work. And even though he heavily suspected Bullock, in the end, he was willing to admit that he was mistaken to Bullock’s face. Bullock, obviously foreign to this respectable behavior, seemed confused, but perhaps it was enough to maybe teach him a thing or two. Batman’s little speech at the end was really nice too, and it shows that even though he feels similar about Bullock to how Commissioner Gordon feels, that he’s stubborn and hard to work with, he still respects him on some level. He knows that Bullock wants what is best for the city, and that he believes in keeping crime down while keeping innocent people safe. They both have questionable ways of working with the law too. Bullock can be slimy, sneaky, and willing to break some of the rules. So can Batman. But one major difference is that Bullock is an official employee, while Batman isn’t. Yet another thing that he is incredibly proud of. He also seemed to assume that Batman wouldn’t ever bother helping out someone like him, as if they were enemies. He didn’t seem to understand that Batman wants the same basic things that he does. The two could probably work pretty well together if they tried. And I’m not going to pretend that Batman can’t be just as stubborn as Bullock. He’s the protagonist, so we may not notice it as much (we get more insight on him), but we are sure to notice a lot of Bullock-like qualities that he possesses as we move much further into the DCAU, when he meets up with some future protagonists. Batman can be a dick, guys. But that’s a discussion for another day. I’ll just leave it with saying that I think as Batman gets more jaded and as things around him start changing, he gets much more disgruntled.

“Why’d you stick your neck out like that to help me?”

“We may have different ways of enforcing the law, but we both believe in it.”

Speaking of disgruntled, Killer Croc makes his first appearance here, and it is pretty satisfactory. When I first saw this episode (my dad watched it with me, by the way, alleviating the pain of him only seeing I’ve Got Batman in My Basement and The Forgotten prior), I already knew who Croc was, and had already seen an episode with him, so the buildup was not nearly as strong. For Char, I think it was more elevated, as I don’t think she was expecting him. She was familiar with his Suicide Squad design, though, so it was hard for her not to compare it with this more ugly one. Yeah, I don’t know about Croc’s design. I’m pretty used to it, so it doesn’t bother me, but I have heard others say that they’re not really a fan. He only kinda looks crocodile-like, and I think that is because of the more subdued, realistic approach that this show was initially going for. I tend to prefer the hulking mass that we get to see in Arkham Asylum, which is significantly scarier. In this episode, we see the fear in the convicts’ eyes as they witness the strange-looking, reptilian man, and I think that it ends up being a little anticlimactic, especially since he doesn’t kill them or anything (on top of looking the way he does). Taking all that into consideration, the episode would have gotten an A most likely if the issue was fixed. Buuuut, I do like Croc as a villain, despite this. He has an interesting enough backstory, he creates a challenge for Batman, he has a cool habitat, and his personality is fine. He’s definitely not a sympathetic villain like Freeze or Two-Face, but Harvey Bullock was the one with the focus this time. It makes sense that Killer Croc would serve more as that scary, mysterious threat which lurks around in the water, stalking and capturing him. Too much insight can take away from the intimidation. Also, not every villain in real life has all that much depth to them. As long as the episode is still entertaining and has other qualities to take the place of the intense feels (and this episode does indeed), then it’s perfectly reasonable that not every villain in Gotham would either. Sometimes you just need an evil guy, with an evil plan, and a cool gimmick.

Oh, Spectrum is back with the animation. This is weird because, again, I thought they went under after Heart of Ice which was a handful of episodes back now. Also, this episode isn’t quite up to snuff with a lot of the things that they’ve done. I noticed some recycled animation, some weird models, and overall a cheaper-feeling quality. But it’s not Akom-level stuff either, it’s closer to Dong Yang, which is 100% fine by me. I’m trying not to be spoiled. This is a 90’s television show, aimed at kids, which had an accompanying toy line. How much can I really expect? So while not very recognizable as Spectrum, it is still beyond passable, and the directing/storyboarding was a highlight (take a look at some of the below screenshots).

Do these look like Spectrum drawings to you?

This one is a little more like it. 

I like the bit where Commissioner Gordon dumps out his nasty coffee. Another little bit of character.

Croc’s hand reaching out of the water. “Hayyyy, guys! Can I get a lift?”

This still doesn’t do the intensity of this guy’s fear any justice. His sudden gasp was one of pure panic.

These types of blue colors are incredibly common in Batman TAS. The team couldn’t always use the variety in colors that they wanted. They were pushing the budget as it was.

This section confused me a little bit. We see Bullock toss a toothpick to the ground. But later, the toothpick is treated as though Croc planted it to frame him. It must have been a different toothpick, right? This is not communicated very clearly. And I don’t know, how would Croc have known that Bullock would have a toothpick on him? How would he know that others would notice? And how well known for carrying a toothpick around is Bullock, exactly?

A great shot. 

The planted toothpick. Or maybe it’s actually the one Bullock dropped. I’m not entirely sure. 

We see lightning flash, engulfing Bullock in light. It looks awesome in motion because we don’t linger on it. Although one thing that bugs me about cartoons is that we always hear the thunder boom at the exact time that the lightning strikes, which is generally not what we experience.

Look at those reflections. Another cool use of lightning. We need a Top 10 Lightning Strikes post eventually I think. Hmm...

There was nothing like this on TV at the time.

Just an s short of being a Psycho reference.

This might be the first time that we see how the entrance to the Batcave works? Oddly, we hear the clock ticking in this scene. I wonder if the hands move. And if they do, there has to be some function to prevent the door from opening  when it reaches 12 normally. I’ll bet that Alfred is the one who has to fix the time.

I love how the camera slowly pans as we see them coming down the stairs, with the computer system in view. I’d love to hang out in the Batcave. 

Another scary Croc entrance. Fitting that this episode aired in October.

“Ah, turnips.”

Awesome shadow work. For no other reason than that it looks awesome and makes Batman look hella intimidating. This is why people fear him.

Batman smacks the plant out of his hands. Get the gross vegetables out of his face!

“I’ve got plenty of answers. .38 caliber answers.”

“You’d better hope your men are very good shots.” I’m sure you guys can come up with many alternative captions for this screenshot.

Batman’s nose is a little crazy here. He’d look more like a bird if the ears were missing. 

This scene made me chuckle. A false Harvey Dent walks in, dropping wet. Like, yup, that’s him alright. Nothing nefarious going on at all.

Gotta feel a little bad for him, even if you don’t like him.

“Alfred! You’re beautiful!” Best moment.

See, I mean, he looks okay. Just not the best Croc design out there.

Hmmm.. Recycled segment.

Now these are some Spectrum shots!

A really cool Batman entrance. 

Char’s grade: B

Next time: Fear of Victory Full episode list here!

[ivars-snowflake]

Wild - III

Plot: The story follows Morana, a meditarranean girl brought to Kattegat by Bjorn, right before the war. She’s not just any girl though, she’s a princess with a secret she’s desperate to keep unrevealed, and with a great need for a fresh start and a place to call home. She wants it to be Kattegat, but will it be?

Follow her, and those around her, into a series of heartbreaks.

Pairing: None really, but Ivar and Morana are getting closer

Word count: 1880

You can read Part I here, and Part II here.

She felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head, as she opened her eyes. Assuming it was the thrall, she didn't pay it any attention. The sun was high up, and she figured it was close to midday. 

“I hope you managed to get some rest, princess Morana, for there are things we should discuss.”

She felt a sudden rush of heat hit her face at the sound of his voice. No matter how annoying she found him to be, she was still impressed by the fact that he, being the youngest of four brothers, somehow managed to make himself a king. She needed to find her place in the world, and she wanted her place to be here. Going back home was not an option, and it was not something she would wish for anyway. She was not wanted back there. So, she needed him to like her. But still, he was not a very good company. Not for her. They were to similar, and that might cost her, if she doesn't learn to control herself.

She turned to face him, realizing how close he sat. He was on the floor, right next to her bed. It was just then that she noticed the crutches leaned on the wall next to him. Right, they always talked of him as the cripple. She once asked a slave what the word meant, but the answer confused her, for she never met a person with his condition. Now she realized what the thrall meant by his legs not working. Somehow, she managed to forget that piece of information earlier, not giving it much importance. She shook it off, and focused her eyes on him.

“About?”

His eyes were studying her gentle frame, finally finding their rest on her eyes. The night before, he was convinced her eyes were gray, the color of the clouds that come bearing storms. But now they were green, like the green waters of the lake, or the grass in early spring. Their glances were stuck at each other.

“I want to know where you're from. You're different somehow, and I intend to know how.”

A silent sigh escaped her, a relief. He was intrigued, not furious. Maybe she did play her cards just right, and maybe for once, her mouth and her attitude failed to cause her doom. He was unpredictable, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing in general, but it did show as a good thing at this moment.

“I told you, your brother Bjorn brought me here. I was given to him by my father.” She answered, anger evident in her tone.

“You have a lot to resent to your father, but he's still your father. And I do not want to talk about your family issues. So, you're from Mediterranean?”

She was slightly taken aback by his words, she didn't quite expect this from a man who was at war with his own brothers, but for once, she decided not to comment. And he was rude, but she still managed to control her tongue.

“Yes, I am.”

“And you are no Christian?”

He was evidently interested in gods and religious things, as was she.

“No, I am not. I think they are ridiculous, in fact. Virgins giving birth and all. I think that my gods and your gods are very alike, king Ivar.”

He stared at her, not sure whether this was a good thing or some sort of blasphemy. But he was eager to know more of her Gods, as this woman seemed to possess some kind of magic, for she had him tied to her words.

“Okay, tell me about your gods then, princess Morana.”

She smiled, pleased by his curiosity.

“Well, what do you want to know, my king?”

“I know nothing, so anything’s good.”

“Khm…” She paused, thinking where to start, and then continued. “Then I’ll start with a God that you remind me of, king Ivar. His name is Perun. Perun is the god of thunder and lightning, fire and drought… He rules over our world, the world of the living, from his fortress in the clouds, on top of the World Tree.”

”He seems like a good god, why would he remind you of me?” Ivar asked, leaning closer, a smirk on his face. “It seems you’re a little misled by who I’m supposed to be…”

Morana chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly. She shook her head in disagreement, thinking back to all the things she heard about him, and then she continued. “I don’t think I am. You see, king Ivar, Perun is also the god of war and weaponry. He is the one that warriors call upon. The warrior god. Veles is his enemy - the god of livestock, shepherds and farmers. Just like your brother Ubbe is your enemy right now.” She paused, her eyes wandering at his, cautiously scrutinizing him and his reactions, looking for any sign of disapproval. She did not want to insult or anger him. He smiled weakly, nodding for her to continue. “The fight between Perun and Veles lasts since forever, they keep trying to outsmart each other, Perun usually wins, sending Veles back to the underground, but Veles always comes back, wanting to outdare Perun.” She paused and smiled, noticing how carefully he listened to her.

“Go on...” He encouraged her.

“Perun has a wife, his wife is Sunce, The Sun. The Sun has a mother and little sister, Zora (Dawn) and Danica (The North Star). Zora is The Sun’s mother, she visits our world in the early mornings, at dawn, and gives birth to her daughter, The Sun, blessing the world of the living with its light. Danica is The Sun’s younger sister, she is in fact the brightest star on the night’s sky. Those were the names of my sisters too…both very bubbly and happy…”

He listened cautiously, admiring the way she spoke of her gods. There was passion and commitment in her soft voice, making him think of Floki and his tales. She saw him smile at her.

“Are you named after a goddess too?”

Her eyes locked to the floor, avoiding his gaze. Her expression changed, and she nodded.

“Tell me…” He whispered, lifting her chin up with his hand. She loved and worshiped the goddess she was named after, but the people around her never did. They feared her.

“I was named after Morana, the Sun’s daughter. The goddess of winter and death,” She paused, taking a deep breath, “I came to life by causing death. My mother died giving birth to me, and I…my people fear Morana, so everyone feared me. My father sent me to live with an old lady Mara in the woods. She became my mother and my father. Taught me everything I know of the gods and the world. When she died, I was all alone. Until they came for me and gave me to your brother.”

He could see how hard she tried to keep her tears from falling, and he put his hand on the piece of her skin that shyly escaped the furs in an attempt to comfort her. He knew now what it was that kept drawing him to her - they were both the children that should have died. The rejected ones, the belittled ones, feared or mocked. Those who were supposed to die, but gods decided in their favor, they made them strong, and the same gods now brought them together. It had to mean something. She blinked the tears away, and fixed her eyes on him, smiling.

“Anything else you wanna know?”

“Well, yes. I want to know more about Morana, she does seem like an interesting goddess. But right now, you should get dressed and go eat something.”

He turned to the wall, reaching for his crutches, and holding onto her bed to get up.

“What's your story, king Ivar the Boneless? Why do you fight your brothers?”

 “I didn't fight my brothers. I fought the murderer of my mother. My brothers chose to fight by her side.”

 She grew silent, thinking back of her acquired knowledge of this entire situation. Lagertha was the mother of Bjorn, but Ivar, Hvitserk, and Ubbe – the brother that sided with Lagertha, they were the sons of Queen Aslaug, the second wife of Ragnar Lothbrok. The name Sigurd was also often mentioned, but she did not know who Sigurd was. It was perfectly understandable to her that Bjorn would hold the side of his mother in this war, but Ubbe was a mystery. Why would he choose the woman who killed his mother, rather than his own two brothers?

“I am sorry. For the death of your mother. I heard it was Lagertha who killed her.”

He nodded, his eyes instantly filling with rage. She saw a spark lightning up, as he spoke of her.

“She escaped. But I will catch her, I will. And I will kill her. Slowly and painfully. I will make it a show, for everyone to watch.”

Morana was studying his face as he spoke, it was dark and ominous, no wonder everyone feared him. And yet again, he reminded her of Perun, the fierce and fearless one, riding in his chariot, weaving his mighty axe.

 He was fascinating, probably the most fascinating man she ever met, of his brothers, most definitely the most interesting and intense one. Soon, she caught herself aiming high, falling for the very king of Kattegat.

  It soon became a little ritual of theirs, these early morning talks. She complained the first few days, a little uncomfortable with Ivar seeing her in her nightgown, hair disheveled and eyes still cloudy, but as soon she became comfortable enough around him, she just didn’t care.

And he thought she was beautiful. She was always beautiful, with her lips painted red, and her braided hair carefully curled up into a bun on top of her head, flowers in her hair, those eyes being the color of fresh green grass. But in the early morning light, when she would first blink, her eyes still adjusting to light, they were golden. Her wavy hair would fall down her back, shimmering in shades of chestnut and orange as the rays of light would fall on it. Her bones would crackle as she stretched, a smile on her face at the sight of him sitting next to her bed.  The golden glow of her eyes would fade then, when she would fix her gaze on him, smiling sleepily and wishing him a good morning in her native language.

 But the closer she got to him, the further he’d escape. And soon she felt the distance growing between them, his walls build up high, and though Morana tried to break through, her thin patience not exactly helping her intention of knowing and understanding his troubled personality, anger and intimacy issues evident every time she would try to get near in a moment he would find unfitting. But he would still come back, and she would still welcome him. What he didn’t count on was that she, though still trying to get through, would also search comfort and tenderness somewhere else. He didn’t count on a possibility of actually losing her, while he was pushing her away.

Taglist: @cris101071 @naaladareia

[cwatsonsblog]

Racism as a cognitive error in humans?

Is racism essentially a cognitive error- a product of ignorance or lack of experience- and if so correctable through teaching and learning? This question makes me think of the two ideological groups within Critical Race Theory: Idealist and Realists. Idealists believe racism and discrimination are manners of thought and attitude while realists believe that racism is much more than a collection of unfavorable attitudes towards a specific group. Racism was born of selfish, uneducated interests; settler colonialism sought to create a white world, to spread and stay while ignoring the humanity of any nonwhite groups. The demonization of these groups as a means to support and validate violence remains present in societal ideas and structure.  

Critical Race Theory (CRT) is a movement, a collection of acts with a goal of change in society. CRT discussed racial microaggressions, or small acts of racism which are created from societal assumptions. The existence of these normalized racist interactions is an indication that current attitudes and thoughts of society need to be educated and reformed. The three positions of why there are racial disparities are the segregationists, assimilationists, and the antiracists. Of these three groups, two are racist and place blame for racial disparities on Black people themselves: segregationists and assimilationists. Antiracists are the only non racist group, believing differences in cultures are equal in divergence and one is not “better” than the other; the issues of racial disparities stem from racial discrimination.

Nakano-Glen discusses settler colonialism versus non settler colonialism, formation of race, racial and gender minority overlaps, and the conflict of inclusion versus liberation in her work Settler Colonialism as Structure: A Framework for Comparative Studies of U.S. Race and Gender Formation. This piece explores at length various elements of colonialism, settler colonialism, racism, racial-gender intersections, and the implications with current “solutions” to racial disparities. Often racial justice projects aim to achieve liberal inclusion; to include subordinated groups instead of liberating these groups. This further feeds the loop of inequality because the system in place is creating the racial disparities; including minorities does not fix the racial problems with the system but rather allows the system to continue to produce racial disparities.

When learning about racism in this country, the binary nature, and labels, of society has stuck out to me. Things are “good” or “bad”, “property-owner” or “property”, “white” or “black”; the reality is everything is a spectrum and the one-or-other mentality is a dangerous one which oversimplifies the world. Nakano-Glenn discusses this dichotomy of race in society, where blackness became the opposite of whiteness. Humans are pitted against one another as a means to keep control power with those at the top.

A basic tenet of Critical Race Theory is the social construction of race. Scientifically, there is no real difference between races. Evolutionally, skin color is simply a reflection of the intensity of UV radiation one’s ancestors experienced; race is a social construct as a means to control a certain group in the human population. The idea behind hegemonic whiteness, those who are white are “natural” has no real sustenance; in fact, the first human remains (Lucy) are found in Ethiopia.

Understanding the scientific reason for skin color does not merit the concept of “color blindness”. Those who are “color blind” believe in equal treatment of all regardless of background or current situation. Color-blindness seems like a way to forget the past wrongdoings, “start clean slate”, and not acknowledge the “unearned privilege and undeserved suffering”, thus invalidating the experiences of those oppressed. In addition, the systems in place have resulted in the current racial disparities; simply treating everyone equal when this inequality has become ingrained in the structure of society is not a solution.

Racism will never be “correctable”; the terrible racist actions of the past (and present) cannot simply be forgotten. When I think about racism in this country, my mind compares it to cancer. If you were to only treat the symptoms of cancer, you might feel better, but you are still dying. In order to cure cancer, you must remove it; solve the problem at the root instead of treating the symptoms. We can treat symptoms, microaggressions and racial disparities, as much as possible and dismantle racist ideas in the present, but until the racist systems themselves are done with, racism will continue to plague this country. Racism may have begun as an error, a mutation in thought, but it has since become deeply embedded in our world and lives. Discomfort is never an excuse to not be educated, to not take action, to not speak about the truth of the racist capitalist system we currently live in. Those in power need to either step up, become educated on racism and openly fight for those oppressed, or they need to be removed from office.

[fantroll-purgatory]

@47098

Sorry about my spriting here, I’m not good at making pants. ;

Left is her in her coat. It’s the only piece of lime-colored clothing she owns. Right is her usual wear, or what she puts on when she leaves her cave.

FIRST: Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Alternia

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Orwnet Jketli

I really don’t remember how I came up with this name! I feel a bit bad about that, but I do remember that I partially made it nonsense because of the fact that Calliope said Lime names were a bit more weird.

Okay so looking at her, I notice a theme of sneaking/fleeing, fear, those sorts of Prey Animal themes. I also notice an interesting in practical goofs and cartography and also her disconnect from relationships. A lot of neat stuff to work with! 

I think I’m going to recommend changing her name… to Quarie Jkrebt. I wanted to keep playing with the ‘weird lime names’ rule you pointed out, and I wanted to preserve that cool Jk sound in the last name. 

Quarie comes from Quarry, which is what a hunted animal is called. And Jkrebt comes from Jack Rabbit! 

Age: 6.9 sweeps

Weapon: Confetti Cannon! She is pretty non-violent overall, so I figured she wouldn’t have an /actual/ weapon.

A confetti cannon is cute, but I don’t know if it fits the theme super well? I does fit her love of jokes… Hmm. Oh, I know! Maybe Jacks!

A good ol bag of jacks. She can scatter them on the ground when she needs to make an escape. It’s also another pun on Jackrabbit. And it has some alchemization potential. Like creating jacks that can Also release a puff of smoke. 

Inventory: WHEEL OF FORTUNE! Spin the wheel, who knows what you’ll get! Anytime she wants an item she has to spin the wheel, and she doesn’t actually get to choose what comes out.

I do like the Fortune thing because Lucky Rabbit joke. 

Blood color: Lime

Symbol and meaning: A sort of eye, peering over something. It’s also partially meant to look like a record.

I’ll be picking out a new one when we get down to the title and moon.

Trolltag: amicableJukebox [AJ] (very open to suggestions on this, i did NOT mean for her trolltag to be apple juice)

uneasyBinky, maybe? Uneasy referencing her anxious and unsettled nature and binky being the cute little hoppy thing bunnies do. 

Quirk: orgets the beginning parts of sentences! oesn’t really use capitals or emphasis either, even when upset.

The lack of capitals and emphasis is a good nod to her blood caste’s calming role. I don’t really understand the Origin of the forgetting the beginning of sentences quirk? But it’s still legible and it’s a cute idea, so I won’t switch it up.

Special Abilities (if any): She has the ability to calm people down extremely well. She is good at diffusing arguments as well, making her a good auspitice. It isn’t really an innate power, but it is something that comes with her caste, I suppose? She also used to have a empathetic link to her lusus, where her lusus could project certain feelings or invoke certain kinds of memories to ‘communicate’ with her.

I was also thinking of adding the empath link as an actual ability, as in she could use it on other trolls if she really concentrates, but I’m not sure how well that would really fit.

I think it would fit really well! We know that lower-blooded trolls are more prone to gaining psychic abilities and it’d fall in line with what we already expect from limeblooded trolls. I like the idea of her starting off with a weak empathetic link that she ends up developing and strengthening. Maybe she can only use it with her lusus at first, but slowly gains the strength to utilize it with other trolls, sharing emotions with those around her. 

Lusus: A four-eyed rabbit. Two eyes on the front of its head, two eyes on the back. It also sort of… eminates white particles, just because. Orwnet calls her Hippy.

I don’t want this Bunnymom to be just a plane ol four-eyed rabbit, so I think I’ll recommend a Rasselgeiß. That’s a rabbit with antlers and fangs. Just unique enough.

Personality:

Extremely secretive and chill, Orwnet keeps all of her emotions behind a wall of jokes and self depreciation. Orwnet can get along with just about anyone, but that’s because she doesn’t put much weight into what she wants so she lets everyone walk over her. She will speak up when a plan is obviously bullshit, or if she thinks people will die from said plan, but if she thinks no real harm will come of it she’ll let it slide. If someone is being rude or overly confrontational, she will most likely skirt out of the conversation. She has no close friends, and finds it hard to get along with people on a deeper level. She often distances herself.

Orwnet takes great pleasure in persuing a cause. She will devote herself entirely to something passionately, even if she seems to be joking around about it or skirting around the issue. People will most likely think she’s slacking off when she’s really coming up with plans, trying to work them through in her head. She is very skittish by nature, so she often doesn’t share her plans with others, but makes sure to work her plans around the people she is with. If her plans fall through or fail she will be crushed, but won’t tell anyone about how she feels.

Orwnet is very jumpy and evasive due to her childhood of terror. She has a deep distrust for everyone, fearing that they will turn her in or try to cull her. She still acts friendly, but will bolt at a moments notice if she senses danger aimed only at herself. If she feels like someone else is being targetted, she will try to help in any way she can, but that often involves finding a non-violent way to get them out of the situation. She finds more value in running away than in physical confrontation.

I really, really like this personality. I’m interested in her lack of self-confidence, her passion, and her emotional struggles, and her fear of intimacy. All great character traits!

Additional info:

Okay her existence and alive-ness is due to shenanigans on part of my fankids.

She lives in a cave, where she and her lusus have taken residence ever since her lusus picked her up. The cave has since been added onto, extra tunnels being dug by Hippy. In Orwnet’s room there is a secret passage hidden by some maps taped onto the wall. It’s for when others enter her cave without her knowing.

Interests:

MAPS (keeps them b/c she needs to know her way around so she can sneak better)

PAPER CRAFTS

JOKES

Self-depreciation

VEGETABLES

HIDE-AND-SEEK (a joke about how shes always hiding from the drones)

LONG DISTANCE RUNNING (a joke about how shes always running from the drones)

FUNNY NOISES (she mixes a lot of gag-noises on a soundboard she carries around, she presses the buttons when something funny happens)

These are cute interests. Maybe as part of maps you could give her a bit of an interest in cartography or tracking? Also I have to wonder about vegetables- how does she get them? Does she farm? I know Kanaya mentioned landscaping is uncommon on the planet, but it’s possible farming is a bit more common… Maybe have her do some self defense training, too?

Title: HEIR OF TIME

Now I have to contest this gently. I think she’s most likely a Heart player! The fact that she lets people walk all over her… The fact that she has trouble with intimacy, her intense devotion to causes and her incredible passion- it all reads as very heart player! It seems like an area she needs a lot of development in, too. I think placing her as Seer of Heart with her inverse being Witch of Mind is a good place to be!

Land: MUSIC and LOCOMOTION

Land of Carnivores and Locomotion, maybe?

Dream Planet: Derse

I definitely agree with this!

Which means we can decide on a symbol now!

Cano, the Translucent. 

(thank you for helping with maroux as well! your sprite was so cute and all of your help was so good!) 

Glad I could help with this one and with Maroux! Now onto the design!:

Horns: I adjusted the horns to fit the new symbol I provided. I wanted to keep them relatively small and rounded!

Hair: I just beefed it up in a few tiny places because it felt a little flat up top in particular.

Eyes: I gave her some eyelashes and also slightly larger pupils to reflect those seen on a prey animal! 

Mouth: I adjusted her teeth just a little to make them a little neater… And make it more obvious that the one tooth is coming up from the bottom. 

Jacket: I adjusted it to the correct color and also spruced it up a little. Fixed the outline, the lapels, give it a little tie around the waist. 

Shirt: I adjusted the color and outline. 

Pants: I made them have a little more form but didn’t do much else. 

Shoes: I took some of Jade’s shoes and edited them to make them look a bit more comfortable to run in. 

Now we’ve got ‘em done! Thank you for sharing her!

-CD

[thesevenseraphs]

Update 1.1.0

SANDBOX

Abilities

General

Increased the damage dealt to bosses from Super abilities

Adjusted the output of the Recovery stat so that characters with the lowest Recovery totals will start regenerating slightly faster

Grenades

Reduced Pulse Grenade damage slightly and toned down the intensity of camera shake and controller rumble associated with each pulse

Reduced the recharge rate of additional grenade charges beyond the first

Normalized the recharge rate of Arcbolt and Firebolt Grenades to match the other grenade archetypes

Increased damage inflicted to combatants by Flashbang Grenade, Magnetic Grenade, Suppressor Grenade, Incendiary Grenade, Fusion Grenade, Skip Grenade, Flux Grenade, Arcbolt Grenade, Swarm Grenade, Tripmine Grenade, Storm Grenade, Firebolt Grenade, Axion Bolt, and Scatter Grenade.

Titan

Fixed an exploit allowing the Titan’s Rally Barricade ability to generate infinite ammo for certain weapon types

Fixed an exploit allowing players to chain Fist of Havok abilities indefinitely

Decreased the distance traveled in the air with the shoulder charge ability when it is executed without a target

Increased the number of solar hammers that can be thrown during the duration of the Hammer of Sol Super ability

Extended the timer for the Hammer Strike’s weaken debuff by 1 second and corrected an issue that was causing the visual effects not to represent the duration properly

The Sunspot health regeneration buff now lingers for 3 seconds after moving through a Sunspot

Tempered Metal and Sol Invictus no longer trigger off combatant solar shield detonation kills

 Hunter

Arcstrider dodge now briefly breaks tracking

The base duration of Golden Gun is now the same for both paths

Shadowshot now suppresses targets immediately on a direct hit

Shadowshot no longer tethers dropships

Increased the amount of time available to fire arrows while using the Moebius Quiver upgrade of the Shadowshot Super ability

 Warlock

Explosive rounds no longer receive bonus damage from Empowering rift

The Heat Rises perk no longer triggers on destructible objects

Updated the Devour perk description to correctly indicate that the ability is triggered on kills

The Nova Bomb created by the Cataclysm upgrade maintains its initial speed for longer before slowing down

Armor

General

Hunter leg armor with Survivalist stat package now grants Recovery

Exotic Amor

Mask of the Quiet One no longer grants energy when the wearer takes damage from friendly players

Shield Bash now triggers the Dreaded Visage perk on Mask of the Quiet One

Slightly increased the damage dealt by ACD/0 Feedback Fence

Kills with the Fury Conductors perk on ACD.0 Feedback Fence now show correct icon in the kill feed

Adjusted the grenade recharge granted by Starfire Protocol to compensate for the global decrease in the second grenade recharge rate

Improved ready and stow speed on Peacekeepers

Added an additional perk to Lucky Pants that loads a single bullet to the chamber of a stowed Hand Cannon whenever the player scores a precision hit with any weapon

Reworked Karnstein Armlets in two ways: on a melee hit, the armlets now provide heightened Mobility and Recovery and highlight low-health targets; and scoring a melee kill immediately restores a significant amount of the wearer's health

Fixed an issue with Dunemarchers where the Linear Actuators perk was not triggering consistently

Weapons

General

Increased the base damage and reduced the precision modifier of Precision Auto Rifles

Slightly reduced the aim deflection of High-Caliber Rounds on Auto Rifles and Scout Rifles

Reduced the effectiveness of Aim Assist at higher ranges on Scout Rifles

Reduced severity of recoil on Hakke High-Impact Auto Rifles

Hand Cannon accuracy recovery now scales with rate of fire

Improved base Aim Assist on aggressive Hand Cannons

Slightly increased the rate of fire time between bursts on all Omolon Sidearms

Slightly increased impact damage on lightweight single-shot Grenade Launchers

Fixed an issue with the Tireless Blade Sword perk where players could sometimes get sword ammo from an unpowered sword attack

Fixed an issue where the Infinite Guard perk would drain ammo when guarding in a Healing Rift

The Relentless Strikes sword perk no longer returns ammo on heavy attacks

When comparing Sniper Rifle stats the UI correctly updates for maximum magazine values

Fixed an issue with Ambitious Assassin to make it more consistent

Exotic Weapons

Increased Fighting Lion damage and changed Thin the Herd perk to now grant bonus ammo rather than pulling ammo from the player inventory

Shooting destructible objects with Graviton Lance, Sunshot, Merciless, Sturm, and Drang no longer trigger the Exotic weapon perks

Fixed an issue with D.A.R.C.I's Target Acquired perk to make it more consistent

Activities

Raid

The Leviathan raid now has a recommended Power of 300

The Prestige Leviathan raid now has a recommended Power of 330

Fixed an issue causing Cabal corpses to float in mid-air

Fixed an exploit in the nightmare realm of the Calus encounter

Fixed an issue where Raid Keys could be removed from inventory when players create a new character

Raid Keys will once again reset alongside Checkpoints each week

Players traveling to the Leviathan now see proper spaceflight

PvP

Fixed cases where players could get out of the intended playable area on a number of maps

The Hot Streak challenge no longer progresses for the opposing team

The Capture 5 Zones challenge now progresses for zones captured by allies and requires increased numbers of captures for completion

Advantage and Domination stats now accumulate on assists

Fixed an issue causing previous kill to repeat in the kill feed prior to a new kill when a player obtains a kill streak

Increased the rate of Rare rewards upon match completion in Quickplay and Competitive playlists

Increased the rate of Legendary rewards upon match completion in Quickplay and Competitive playlists

Increased XP rewards upon match completion in Quickplay and Competitive playlists

Strikes

Nightfall strikes now have a recommended Power of 270

Prestige Nightfall strikes now have a recommended Power of 330

Fixed an issue in Savathun’s Song where a crystal would fail to spawn blocking progression

Fixed an issue in the Inverted Spire where in some cases players who died had no valid spawn location

Increased Glimmer earned from strike completions

Increased XP rewards earned from strike completions

Public Events

Fixed an issue where sometimes the Prime Ether Servitor would not spawn during the Ether Resupply public events

Fixed an issue where the Cabal Gladiators would sometimes have horrific arm elasticity when being defeated during Cabal Drill public events

Reduced the XP rewards of some public events to bring them more in line with other activities

Reduced Glimmer earned from some public events to better balance them with their counterparts

Reduced the rate of Rare rewards to bring them more in line with other activities

Increased the rate of Legendary rewards from public events for level 20+ characters

Guided Games

Leviathan Guided Games now have a recommended Power of 310

Nightfall Guided Games now have a recommended Power of 270

Improved clarity on Guide selection screen in Guided Games

Full clans can now queue as guides for Guided Games

Faction Rallies

Fixed an issue where the Tower would not properly load Faction Victory Flags for players who were in orbit when the flags were applied

Fixed an issue preventing some players from pledging to a faction during Faction Rallies

Fixed an issue where faction tokens stored within the Vault were not properly wiped between Faction Rally events

Iron Banner

Fixed an issue where Lord Saladin would sometimes refer to Guardians by the wrong class

Trials of the Nine

Fixed an issue where players could sometimes become stuck in the Third Spire when attempting to visit the Flawless space

Fixed an issue where the Trials of the Nine tooltip displayed the wrong fireteam requirements

Fixed an issue where some emotes would not play correctly during the intro cinematic

General

UI

Fixed the missing buff icon when “The Floor Is Lava” challenge is completed

Fixed an issue causing level-up notifications to persist on-screen during Crucible matches

Fixed an issue preventing eligible Exotic infusion material from displaying properly in the infusion screen

Reduced the frequency of the “HUD Disabled” warning shown when the HUD is turned off via the HUD Opacity setting

Fixed an issue causing the player indicator on the destination map to be incorrectly positioned while the player is dead

The flashing nameplate indicator for a player who is unable to launch an activity now displays appropriately to all fireteam members

Fixed an issue where notifications could be dismissed by bringing up the character screen

Fixed legibility issues with waypoint icons and text that were using the same color

Fixed an issue causing “No Kinetic Ammo” to briefly appear when a player was swapping weapons

Fixed an issue where loot stream notifications would hide Challenges

Orbit PGCR correctly displays player tooltip information

Fixed an issue where players would be told they owned the Sturm Symbiosis ornament, even when they did not

Fixed an issue where "Competitive" was misspelled on the Give Them War emblem

Fixed an issue where players would sometimes be prevented from dismantling gear

4K and HDR Support

Upgraded resolution to adaptive 4K with high dynamic range lighting on the PlayStation 4 Pro

Upgraded resolution to 4K with high dynamic range lighting on the Xbox One X

Audio

Fixed an issue causing music to fail to play when players were completing the same adventure back-to-back

Fixed firing audio for the Hoosegow Rocket Launcher

Fixed an audio issue in the Memorialization replay sequence

PC

Players can now exit the game using a controller

Players can now keybind to the NumPad when NumLock is active

The scroll wheel now works on gear lore tabs

Fixed crashing in the New Pacific Arcology area of Titan

Fixed a source of random crashes

Fixed an issue that prevented fullscreen mode from working properly in rare situations

Improved the accuracy of the in game framerate counter under fluctuating framerates on PC

Fixed an issue where Destiny 2 would crash upon shutdown

Improved font texture handling to address cases of stuttering or hitching

Fixed an issue where some SLI configurations would cause framerate stuttering

Miscellaneous

Fixed an issue where open-world vendors would not load properly, resulting in a crash

Fixed an issue where two players on the same network could crash when leaving an area simultaneously

Fixed an issue where players would sometimes be launched into the wrong activity

Fixed an issue where hitching would occur when traditional Chinese language was selected

Added secondary and tertiary sorting methods for the Vault

Fixed an issue that could result in Beetle errors

Fixed an issue where Loot-a-Palooza and Dance Party keys did not recover to the Postmaster

Fixed an issue causing improper lighting on player ships when flying to destinations

Fixed many cases where players could get out of the environment in various destinations

Fixed an issue causing Louis to jitter erratically

Fixed an issue where the camera would rotate awkwardly upon character respawn

Added missing Omolon emblem to Gunsmith rewards

Destiny Companion

iOS / Android

Updated for the Curse of Osiris expansion

Players can now see and share Game History details from their profile page

Added the ability to retrieve items from the Postmaster and Gear section

General bug fixes

Improved localization

[itshigh-boop]

Greetings! May I request a fic with Writing Prompt 111 about HanMei? (Mei seeing and reacting to Hanzo’s Ultimate for the first time?)

You sure can! I’m sorry if I went a lil overboard with this - but I really liked the idea and got carried away! Either way, I hope you like it and thank you for requesting HanMei!! I love this pairing so much ❄💙❄– ( Prompt 111: “ You have… Superpowers? ” )Getting to Lijiang from Antarctica had been such a long and arduous trip, the climatologist barely had the energy to run when she found out she was being pursued. Making use of her new invention, she made it as far as she did by mostly creating icy barriers and patches of slippery footing in their wake to deter them from trailing her. “Ha!” she smiled triumphantly as she turned and aimed, creating an extremely well-timed, thick and curved wall of ice that intercepted what could have very well been an opportunity for them to grab her. Mei-Ling pointed her blaster once more, considering creating another layer to her barrier. Lifting the contraption, she pressed the trigger mechanism, only to feel it shake her in hands with a loud rattle. “Ai ya!” The climatologist shook her creation, hoping that it would still have a bit of life left. However, a glance down at the fuel meter quickly let her know that her last icy wall was the result of her last fuel reserves. The telltale sound of cracking ice alerted her to how much time she had left before her barrier would shatter and allow her pursuers to continue. With a frustrated whine, Mei-Ling placed the blaster back into its makeshift sheath at her hip and turned to begin running again.“Snowball,” she panted as she ran, each heavy pound of her feet against the ground sending her closer to the eventual crash she’d experience when she no longer had the energy to spare. “Go. Please. You know the message I recorded with you? The coordinates I had you download?” When she received the affirmative digitized chatter from her companion, she nodded. “Good…no matter what…you must get to Winston…pass him the data we’ve collected…we need…to…”“She’s over here!”Mei-Ling grit her teeth, urging herself to run faster, if not just to give Snowball a chance to leave the area safely. She turned a sharp corner and into a dark sidestreet, hoping to make as many detours as possible. She rounded corner after corner until eventually finding herself face to face with a tall, cement-brick wall, the crude and chipped graffiti mocking her helpless situation.The little droid floated out of his spot on her empty fuel tank, hovering before her. What she took as a sad noise and the droop of his ‘eyes’, Mei gently stroked her thumbs over Snowball’s visor. “You’re my only hope now, Snowball.” She ushered the droid to float toward the sky. “Go!” she whispered, nodding to him once and then turned around as the thuds of combat boots swarmed her senses. “What is that you want from me?” Mei-Ling asked as she turned, managing to muster up the courage to sound and look angry with the unwanted guests. “You’re either a valuable research asset or a dangerous liability, Zhou. You’ve got two choices: come quietly, or you can die here.”Mei-Ling blinked away the hot tears that sprang to her cinnamon colored eyes. This was unfair. Even now, she looked down at the empty fuel canister for her blaster, hoping for some kind of miracle. “I don’t know who you are but I have something I must do.” Her fingers clenched around the blaster as she glared at the soldiers from beneath her lashes. “And I won’t stop until it’s done.” With a simple nod from one of the chasers, all their weapons were now focused on her. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you were in Overwatch -  you knew the risks.” I did know, Mei-Ling thought. hoping that Snowball was safely on his way to wherever from Winston had made his broadcast. This was the least she could do for the world - to ensure that her friends’ deaths weren’t in vain. She closed her eyes tight and with a shaking sigh, wondered if she’d be reunited with her teammates in just a few moments. The flurry of bullets that she expected never came. It was both an instant and an eternity passing as a new pair of footsteps reached her ears. There were confused and angry shouts and the once still evening breeze suddenly picked up in intensity, tossing her hair about. Faint sparks of electricity seemed to dance around, peppering at her cheeks and rousing her to open her eyes. Just as she did, a blue glow filled her vision. Then, a powerful and proud shout, in a language not of her homeland resonated off the narrow walls of the alleyway. “Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”Mei-Ling felt more than heard the shaking roar that followed the shout. Dragons had always been an important symbol of power and luck with her people. To actually see one (no, two), even the ever positive and creative Mei-Ling Zhou was questioning her remaining sanity. The dragons were transparent but radiated a fierce blue light, their scales shimmering like precious gems and their entire aura sparked. Yet, as their maws gaped open, as if to swallow anything in their path, Mei-Ling felt safe in their wake. Their brilliant light consumed the soldiers, and as they approached, their bodies passed through her body, filling with her a rush of energy from her temples down to her very toes. The raw power she’d seemingly only been touched with was enough to lift the breath from her throat. Mei-Ling sank to her knees, the bout of energy from earlier instantaneously gone. When the winds had died down and the alleyway became dark and dingy again, she dared to open her eyes. “Mei…?” came the digital voice of Snowball, flaring his voice box with an intonation of concern. “Snowball?” A relieved laugh escaped Mei-Ling’s lips and she smiled as the droid chirped, nudging her cheek affectionately. “How are you here? I thought you left…”Footsteps approaching her had Mei-Ling on her guard, quickly lifting her head, only to find that the soldiers were all now strewn about, seemingly unconscious. Stepping over their bodies was a man who, in her very honest opinion, appeared no less intimidating than the unfriendly men who’d chased her down…but there was a calm on his face - sharp features capturing Mei-Ling’s attention and that had her feeling not so on edge as before. The most eye-catching thing about him being the large bow he held in his hands as he approached. When he was close enough, he leaned down, offering a gloved hand to her. “Are you alright?” he spoke in English, though with a slight accent.It was much better than her own, anyway. Mei-Ling blinked and eventually took his hand. “Uh…I am fine. Xiè xie…” Bringing her hands up to fix her glasses, she swallowed the small lump in her throat. “Who are you?” she finally asked. “And how did you manage to find me?”The stranger’s shoulders tensed, eyes glancing to the side. “I am no one important. I was simply passing by the area when your droid found me and alerted me to your situation.” “My droid?” she repeated, turning to look at Snowball who flashed the words ‘danger’, ‘help’, and ‘follow’ across his visor in red lettering. Mei-Ling felt a small rush of heat rise to her cheeks in a bit of shame. To think she was so ready to just have it all end when Snowball was trying to save her. “I see. You didn’t have to follow him…but I thank you.” She inclined her head and back slightly in her gratitude, designating someone having saved her from certain doom as worth a bow.“Ah, please,” the man stated. “You do not have to. I was simply…helping someone in need,” he finished awkwardly. “In any case, you are unharmed and that is what matters.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation. However, there was a pressing issue that forced her to speak. “Ah, I know this may sound strange but please, I must know!”She took his blank stare as permission to continue. Biting her lip, she hoped that this question would not sound as nearly as foolish and insane as it did in her head. “Do you…you have superpowers?” Had the curiosity not been burning something fierce, Mei-Ling would have giggled at the sight of his serious expression fall into one of confusion. “Super…powers?” the man questioned. Mei-Ling fiddled with her glasses once more. “It’s just…I may just be hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I saw…dragons. Two blue dragons, looking like they came from you after you shouted.” Her brown eyes scanned the area, refusing to look at his face as she continued. “I am a scientist and I just cannot think of any sort of explanation for what I saw.”A few moments of silence and her savior let out an exhale through his nose, shoulders slumping. “It would be a difficult thing to explain, one that I am not truly comfortable discussing with a stranger,” he admitted. “But I assure you…I do not have…superpowers…” The word appeared to physically cause him tension as it left his lips and she couldn’t help the tiniest grin that graced her features. Instead of laughing, however, she rubbed at one of her eyes, suddenly extremely tired. “Well, even if you don’t have super powers,” Mei-Ling began, only now realizing how silly her question was. “You still saved my life.” Contemplating her next inquiry, she shrugged her shoulders, smiling. “Would it be too much to ask for your name?” Surely he could do at least that? The last time she’d held a conversation this long was…technically nine years ago. No matter how strange the circumstances, her desire for a connection, even if temporary, was intense. He appeared to finally relent. “Hanzo,” was all that he answered with. “Hanzo…” Mei-Ling repeated, trying her best to say his name as intended without her own accent. “My name is Zhou Mei-Ling.”Hanzo nodded, glancing over his shoulder and then looking down at her. “Would you like me to escort you back toward the markets, Miss Zhou?”“I would like nothing better. Come on, Snowball,” she called to her droid companion who floated gently along with the pair as they stepped over the bodies of the mercenaries and walked out of the alleyway. “Hanzo,” Mei-Ling repeated as they walked, causing him to look at her in question. “I will remember this moment,” she smiled at him.“Hm.”

[quirksk-blog]

*  ◜  HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH — AND PLUNGE FORWARD !!  ›

                                      WELCOME TO U.A ACADEMY, KIM BORA !!

                       〈 " the worst loneliness is to not be confertable with yourself .“ 〉

                                               • NOIR • TWENTY ONE • LIBRARIAN •                                         • TRUE NEUTRAL • SHADOW WHISPERER •                                                                   • EMITTER •

                  ��    RELIABILITY〈 003 〉ELOQUENCE 〈 001 〉 INTUITION 〈 003 〉                            AGILITY 〈 005 〉 CONTROL 〈 003 〉 RESILIENCE 〈 001 〉

                                  *  ◜  MANKIND IS NOT CREATED EQUAL !!

she remembers there being a glimmer of hope in once innocent obsidian eyes, pale cheeks flushed scarlet under a loving gaze, small frame pressed closely to her mothers. how bittersweet, she recalls after all these years, the way her mothers’ eyes seemed to bleed sorrow beneath the false smiles she’d give. it’s pain bora doesn’t know, the sadness she can’t sense beyond the spur of excitement— emotions stirred from lies, false stories of a heroic father she’d never met ( one she’d learned had died bravely before her birth from an incident he’d been helping with ).

“i wanna be a hero, just like daddy was!”

“oh, dear, one day you will be.”

she laughs at the memory, pictures of her fathers face plastered all over the news and internet in a different light betraying all she’d been told since she was little. he was no hero. he wasn’t the mysteriously good man her mother had promised he was. no, it was all lies, covers to keep her only precious thing pure.

her mother had been afraid of bora falling into the fray ( and learning of her deepest regrets ).

the facade is kept expertly, bora none the wiser as she steadily grows into a wonderful girl with budding potential— she recalls the wonder and pride she’d felt when her quirk first manifested, an extension of her own tiny shadow unexpectedly providing cover from sudden rainfall during an evening walk in the park ( her mothers paling face comes to mind, shock poorly covered with a shaky smile, something her younger self never thought to question ).

it’s the media frenzy that the shreds of the beautiful veil covering bora’s eyes, dna and witness testimony linking a web of crimes and a highly dangerous profile to the man her mother had sworn was nothing but good ( and nothing but dead ). it’s stunning how quickly the news travels, how quickly bora begins to feel pointed stares and vicious rumors. taunts and isolation are next, friends dwindling to nothing on the requests of their parents, strangers belittling her as if she was the criminal.

everything’s aired the moment her mother knows she can’t lie anymore, bora’s mind opened to the truth— her mother, young and easily persuaded, had fallen for her equally young and dumb delinquent father. her mother had been so set on being able to fix him, make him better, but she was stupid. time and time again, he’d prove he was no good, only to be given a second chance, then a third, then many more ( too many to count ). the last straw had been a violent dispute that’d broken out between them, their separation final after years of constant heartache and mistrust.

but the damage had been done. her mother was halfway through her pregnancy, and plenty of people were aware of the man known as dusker, scum who at that point only needlessly harassed others and was already looking to be a deadbeat father.

there’s distinct change within her— eyes less vibrant, smiles far in-between, voice smaller than it’d ever been. she closes in on herself, finding safety in herself, but that only seems to last so long, hurt bleeding in and cracking the surface.

years pass, the same treatment never failing to rear its ugly head wherever she went, and though she wants to scream, bora learns to live with the stigma. how could she refuse it when it all seemed to be true?

“her quirks just like that scumbags, no doubt she’ll end up the same.”

“how scary, she even looks bad…”

“she’s his daughter? she’s so pretty…what a shame.”

her recommendation for ua academy wasn’t one she’d been looking for, the spotlight that came with attending a place so highly regarded far from her comfort zone, but things never went the way she’d expect them to— it all happened fast, using the shadows one night to detain a petty thief who’d been trying to make off with a woman’s purse. the pro who’d originally been in pursuit was glad for the help, planting the seed in her mind and giving her the push.

she wasn’t aiming for the top, only for the chance to clean up the reputation her father had tainted.

if she can’t do that, she doesn’t think anything will change.

                                  *  ◜   WE RISE AND WE THRIVE !!

most of the time, bora seems to be the embodiment of the very shadows she takes control of— a small detail in the background, always present, but silent. the quiet and reserved nature she has wasn’t always there, her younger self far more talkative and outgoing, but she’s long since faded from the spotlight. now, she’s far more content in staying out of others way for fear of unwanted judgments and sneers.

this, however, isn’t specifically linked to her work ethic and the conviction she has towards reaching her goal. no, when it comes to official matters, she’s far more present and willing interact, even if she’s not great with people. there’s a want to try, a want to show she’s not what rumors claim she is, to put a stop to it all after years of wilting under its pressure. she just needs to learn to have more confidence..

                                  *  ◜   POWER IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT  !!

shadow whisperer - bora is able to take control and morph shadows, as well as darkness in shaded areas, into “physical” forces. with this, she can use them to defend and block to keep from taking hits/damage, as well as issue minor attacks as well as restrain. as a minor subset of her quirk, with intense and large shadowed/shaded area’s, she’s able to use that to blend in and shroud herself completely in it, using it as a means of camouflage for stealth.

( 1 ) during days with overcast and heavy clouds, her quirk is all but rendered useless for the severe lack of shadow and shade. ( 2 ) she can only manipulate shadows within eyesight. ( 3 ) the strength of shadows she uses for defending and attacking depends on how strong of a cast they come from. for example, small and transparent shadows are easier to disperse and block while darker and larger shadows are far more solid and difficult to immobilize. ( 4 ) primarily, she chooses to use her own shadow when fighting because she’s aware that, coupled with the staff she uses, it’s enough to protect herself without causing others the amount of damage much stronger shadows are able to deal.  ( 5 ) when using shadows to hide and camouflage, she can only do so with strong and large shaded areas. this mostly pertains to nighttime or when inside dark rooms.

                                 *  ◜   NEVER FORGET WHO YOU WANT TO BECOME !!

choosing simplicity and functionality to aid her quirk, the main piece to her costume is the long and flowing dark blue-black velvet cloak she wears to cover her whole body, allowing for her shadow to be a little bigger and more solid than it’d normally be. it overlaps completely on her front, leaving her frame hidden with it being secured around the side of her neck by two sturdy onyx studded snap buttons. those buttons aren’t seen, however, until bora pulls her cloak’s hood up, one that’s slightly bigger than her head so it casts shadows over her face, giving her quirk more to work with when needed.

in the even she needs to take the cloak off, the snap buttons provide an easy release with enough force, revealing a simple leather combat bodysuit that ends at shorts length underneath, being the same color as the cloak. she wears zip up thigh high heeled combat boots, deep side pockets on each side holding halves of a staff she connects together when she needs to fight in close combat. she has no sleeves, the top of the body suit having a sweetheart neckline with staps. the whole thing zips up in the back.