#it's almost impossible to get a visible decent quality

[vidreview]

VIDREV: "Why Did Link's Cel Shading Disappear?" by Jasper

[originally posted december 2nd 2022]

when i was in college, i worked in the oklahoma film industry for a few years as a grip-electric swing. in simplest terms, an electrician sets up the lights and a grip shapes the light. the swing's job is to, naturally, swing between both departments depending on what they need. this gave me an intimate understanding of all the ways a set is fictionalized by skilled workers so that it might appear real on screen. that experience colors much of how i approach creative work both practically and critically, because i very much dislike how the labors of so many talented technicians are conglomerated to one of a handful of names on the poster. there is an art to carving light into a proper shape. you can spend hours lighting a room just to make it look like night. it's not easy and it's not automatic. it is exactingly technical work that requires measurement and precision (if you want to do it right).

i say all this to say that video games are impossible. you can't just write some random symbols and numbers and then seriously expect me to believe that creates an immersive triple-a gaming experience. how do they do that? how does a horizon zero dawn exist? math is the devil's playground. my nvidia gtx 3070ti is the apple of eve, and i partake with reckless abandon on a daily basis (especially now that the associated credit card debt is almost paid off). it's sorcery is what it is, and i will never understand it. those wizards whose tongues have been trained to fork in C++, fingers long and spindly with wretched computational vigor, are sinners in the eyes of god, and i have nothing but respect for the thankless work they do to create the vile abominations we all know and love.

this video, nominally about an obscure graphical glitch in the legend of zelda: breath of the wild, did not convince me that video games are "real" as such. but it did give me a momentary glimpse of what it would be like to be a me who, instead of working in film, had worked in video games. i felt for a second like i had a real appreciation for the kind of labor that goes into making a game, beyond the popular imaginary of "some folks sit at computers and type." i don't think i've ever appreciated just how ruinously complex even the simplest of digital visual expressions can be to produce in real-time, and i appreciate how patiently Jasper lays it all out. i may be a digital native of the world wide web from the age of aol instant messenger, but i'm still a poetry animal who has to do basic math on her cloven hooves. talk slow and i'll get it, but you gotta talk slow.

i understand some things about how various mediums treat the film frame. celluloid is a physical surface with depth, a lumaphilic topography of the universe as visible to a piece of glass. digital sensors, however, capture raw signal data and either store it in RAW files or process it through the manufacturer's proprietary algorithm to create a suitable recreation of the universe as visible to a piece of glass. i just think it's interesting. i like to understand the rote physical processes which produce the raw materials of art, and i find it endlessly fascinating that the constituent parts of a medium are so often the realm of highly skilled technicians, and yet the final product is somehow produced by an artist who is not necessarily expected to know a single solitary thing about those processes. think of taika waititi just sorta casually throwing cgi effects artists under the bus in a press video for the bad thor sequel he didn't want to make. i know he knows a lot about the technical production of cinema because he's been a hands-on guy his whole career, and by all accounts he seems to care a lot about his crew (often making sure maori and indigenous film workers are on set and getting real experience). alas, solidarity is an elusive quality even among the decent ones.

besides having an interesting premise with a surprising amount of depth, this video reminded me that in games as well as movies, nothing you see is an accident. also light is magic no matter what medium it's captured in. anyway it's a good video and you should watch it

[haughttopics]

Each touch. Every kiss.

[katzkinder]

London Bridge Is Falling Down

Envy Pair version of my Counting Sheep series! Himiko is my headcanon for the name of Mikuni's mother. Since Mikuni's name contains the character for "kingdom," I thought this name belonging to an ancient queen suited his mother well.

Mikuni is annoying.

That’s something Jeje has always known, ever since Mikuni was a child, ever since the first time he saw him, bounding around his mother’s skirts and throwing himself into Lily’s arms to be held and cuddled and fawned over while Jeje had slunk back to the cellars. Himiko had been so bright, back then, the rot of Envy not yet showing in a visible way, that tiny baby that would grow into his brother’s Eve gurgling happily in her arms.

Jeje was the one who had found him. Himiko had wept when she saw him, all the anger and hate leaving her at once, vanishing as if it never existed when she laid her eyes on the fragile little bundle, swaddled in soft fabrics with little gloves on his impossibly tiny hands. She had sobbed all the harder when she took the crying child from him, her hands shaking while she cradled him close, useless apologies spilling from her pretty lips. The body of the babe’s mother had rapidly been growing cold on the carpet, and little Misono… Would remember none of it.

(Jeje remembered all of it, though. He doesn’t think a single moment will ever fade from his mind, no matter how many eons pass)

As Mikuni had grown, with Jeje watching over him as a silent, imposing, guardian angel, always behind the boy’s mother while she had read bedtime stories to him, always so aware of those bright, bright, too bright eyes, Jeje had also become aware of a number of other things, and those things remained true into adulthood. Mikuni has all of his mother’s gorgeous looks (and some from his father, but admitting as such is just asking to be choked), her stubborn brightness, her sharp tongue and wit, but more than any of that...

Mikuni is annoying.

...Because he never listens to what’s good for him. Just like his mother before him, he had taken Jeje despite his warnings, and some bitter, sick part of Jeje had wanted him to. The same part of him that had given in to Himiko herself.

But, well, he’d always known Mikuni never listened, too.

He wonders if Lily knows, though he doubts that he’s aware, of those golden afternoons when Mikuni would sneak down to his hiding place and find him lurking near the boilers, the excited, terrified whispers of Lily’s children, his human children, chasing after the young heir as he confidently hopped down, step by step, into the “monster’s” lair.

They had talked. About nothing. About everything. Well, actually, Mikuni had talked, seemingly not caring that Jeje never said much back, incredible and beautiful and… Well, there was a reason everyone called Mikuni brilliant.

Jeje knew better, though.

***

The most annoying thing about Mikuni, in his opinion, is not how loud he is. It’s not his contrariness, or his capriciousness, or his constant, gnawing curiosity causing him to make mischief.

The most annoying thing about Mikuni was how badly he wanted people to think he was naturally good at everything.

See, Mikuni was smart. Jeje would give him that. But he was also very stupid. It wasn’t as if he lacked common sense, though sometimes Jeje wondered, but it was like Mikuni wanted people to resent him.

More than anyone Jeje had ever met, his Eve was a hard worker. Someone who hated owing others a single damn thing. It was that useless pride and sense of responsibility for things that couldn’t possibly be Mikuni’s fault, things Jeje suspected, no matter how much he denied it, Mikuni had learned, had internalized, from his father and from Lily, that was why Jeje refused to call Mikuni brilliant like everyone else.

...But he did shine. Like a candle in a darkened room. Like a beacon. Warm, and inviting, someone to warm himself beside, even knowing that that flame would burn him up, just like a moth.

The question was... Who would that flame melt into nothing first?

Jeje would be damned twice over if he let it be his Eve.

Turning away from way he had been watching the other man work late hours, hunched over Nod’s ledgers and planners and Mikuni’s own personal notebooks, where his pen scratched across the surfaces of each calculating profits, expenses, bills, new products and designs and promotions and planning trips, Jeje silently makes his way to their kitchen.

Burning the midnight oil just means you won’t have any left when you truly need it.

A snort, reaching for their cabinets. Of course, that’s what Mikuni had him for.

***

He’s gotten very good at brewing tea. Jeje isn’t much of a chef at all, but living with Mikuni for so long, it was practically guaranteed he’d learn to at least make a semi-decent cup, and thank god he had. He would have truly killed Mikuni by now if he hadn’t, he swears, the man is just as persnickety about his tea as Lily is with his coffee.

...He’s also gained a new appreciation for the stuff, but maybe that comes with the territory of spending hours upon hours listening to Mikuni’s one sided argument about the best ways to drink it. It’s hard not to be impressed with all the little details that goes into brewing what’s considered a perfect cup (by Mikuni’s standards, anyway), and even harder still to not feel a fondness for something that draws such genuine passion out of his once charge, now equal.

...It’s such an odd thought. He knows what people think. That Mikuni has always had a stranglehold on him. That Mikuni has always been in charge. That Mikuni has always been someone… Grown up.

Again. Jeje knows better.

He sets the temperature on their electric kettle, one purchased on one of their many visits to the British Isles, sits at their kitchen table, and waits. Thinks.

Mikuni has been grown up for a long time now. And he will continue to grow, and people will continue to think, no matter Jeje’s efforts, that he is a no good, conniving schemer who would sacrifice them all on a wish and a prayer and something like a maybe.

And, well, perhaps they aren’t wrong. Perhaps Jeje is a fool. But if he’s a fool, he’s a court jester, and as court jester he will make absolutely certain this time that the king does not make his mistakes without someone there to make fun of him for it, even if only behind closed doors, even if only between the two of them.

To everyone else, he is a dictator’s executioner, and that’s fine with him. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

His eyes drift to Mikuni’s favorite cup, one made of glass and painted with delicate, swooping strokes of gold, with lilies and a taupe lacquer surrounding all but a window through which one could admire the lovely colors of their favored drink. He takes it into his hands, so much larger than this tiny cup, and finds himself smiling as he turns the joint birthday gift from the Lust pair over and around, admires those intricate, fancy details that speak of quality and knowing down to the letter exactly what Mikuni’s tastes are.

Well.

Almost everyone.

***

The teapot has been warmed, the kettle filled with mineral water and piping hot, and by the time Jeje finishes steeping the loose leaf tea, their little kitchen clock, kitschy and cute and shaped like a cartoon chicken hatching from an egg, reads 2:17 in the morning.

Jeje picks up the cup, the container of melatonin supplements Mikuni has taken since he was twenty at his Servamp’s behest, and carefully carries both back to where he knows the other man will still be completely absorbed in his work.

True to form, Mikuni is still at it. The predictability of his late night, sleepless habits, of his need to do something with his time, makes Jeje’s frown deepen, ever so slightly.

He wishes Mikuni would just rest. Close his eyes, not do anything, just lie there and let Jeje guard him, just be still, be quiet, like did when he was a child.

… He knows better than to think a mind as stubborn and that moves as fast as his Eve’s could ever achieve that, but he can dream. He can also just sicc the Lust pair on him.

That’ll put him to bed real fast.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

He startles, not having expected Mikuni to acknowledge his presence, and nearly sloshes hot chamomile with lavender onto the pretty little matching saucer that accompanied the cup. It’s a miracle it didn’t fall over completely. Jeje lets out a breath, so quiet it’s inaudible, and curses himself for forgetting that Mikuni can see him right now.

Then again, even if he was wearing his mask, Mikuni would have seen right through him.

He always does.

His Eve is watching him still, waiting for him to move, and then his eyes flick down to what Jeje has in his hands. His lips twist.

Jeje ignores it and continues to make his way over to where Mikuni had been peacefully working. They don’t speak a word to one another, and no sooner than Jeje sets his cargo down, he’s going back the way he came, knowing it’s useless to try and ply Mikuni with words or favors.

The man is annoying in his stubbornness, too.

He hears a sniff behind him, the scratch of pen on paper once more, but it isn’t long before that little noise stops again. A sigh. Jeje chances peering around the doorframe, smiling, just a tad, as a clearly frustrated Mikuni slaps his pen down onto the counter and picks up his cup, no doubt tempted by the smell of his favorite night time blend.

A swallow. Two.

Mikuni unscrews the lid on the melatonin gummies. Pops a couple into his mouth. Chews, and swallows. The tension leaves his shoulders. He allows himself to savor the warmth in his hands.

Jeje leaves him be and heads upstairs to their room, knowing Mikuni now won’t be far behind.

“Jeje,” Mikuni calls after him, voice soft in that way it sometimes, ever so rarely gets, so quiet Jeje almost misses it. “... You still really suck at this.”

Mikuni is annoying.

[graceverse]

Here Be That EniKao Fic I Told You All About

Please note that this is post "The Final" movie. This happened around 2 months after Kenshin and Enishi's fight. AND OH MY GOD, this is my first RK fic since what? 2017?! It has happened and I would like to thank Mackenyu for making this possible. LOL.

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

An Unexpected Invitation

Winter and spring had passed quietly without much excitement. Which was exactly what the occupants of the Kamiya Dojo, and indeed the residents of Tokyo, needed. After much turmoil from the previous year, the quiet restful months have allowed everyone to heal from their wounds.

Physical injuries were all but gone now. No one was wearing any bandages, no one was limping around, clutching a broken shoulder or needing a change of bloody bindings.

Megumi has finally been able to get a decent enough stock of bandages and ointment for the actual patients of the Ouguni Clinic. A feat she didn't think was possible especially since everyone seemed to have been incapacitated in the aftermath of Yukishiro's Jinchuu.

"You're all a troublesome bunch." She told them when she'd given everyone a clean bill of health. She haughtily tossed her hair, looking imperiously down at them. "Next time, you're replacing everything that you'll use up in the clinic."

"Just let Sano take you out for dinner as payment." Yahiko suggested. Boldy too, since he had never really tried teasing Megumi before.

Megumi didn't seem to mind as she actually winked at him before turning to give Sano a look. "Dinner, eh? Sagara Sanosuke can afford dinner?" If she had any eyebrows, it would have disappeared up into her bangs. But the curl of her lips was enough to let Sano know that she was merely teasing him.

"Jou-chan would lend me money, right Jou-chan?" He sidled up to her, elbowing her and making faces that Kaoru supposed was meant to make him look like an adorable puppy, but failing miserably with the still darkened bruises on his face. His spiked-up hair did nothing to help his cause.

"I will most certainly not!" Kaoru indignantly crossed her arms, sending both Sano and Megumi a glare.

"I'd rather that Kenshin take me to dinner, ne Ken-san?" Cool hands snaked around his arms and Kenshin was quick to jump away from Megumi's clutches.

"Why you-"

"Maa, maa -" Kenshin said, raising his hands, trying to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.

As usual, they all ignored him; insults and intimidations of violence were quickly tossed around which ended when Kaoru actually promised Sanosuke that she will give him the money he needed just to shut Megumi up and make her stop acting so inappropriately towards Kenshin.

To which Megumi had answered with a laugh, sultry enough to make both Kaoru and Sano blush. Chaos ensued and Kenshin reveled in the happiness that stirred inside of him as he watched his friends chase each other, threatening murder and all sorts of physical pain.

It was good to be back.

-----------

All traces of the violence and destruction from last winter was gone. It was as if it that night of chaos and fire, explosions and screams piercing through the night, the ghostly air balloons silently stalking the sky had become more like a nightmare that had faded away.

It was now the height of summer, the humidity so unbearable that even when Kaoru had changed the schedule of her classes to the hour of the hare, ("too damn early, busu!" Yahiko had complained), by the mid-morning everyone was drenched with sweat, limp and tired.

Classes were dismissed by noon which gave her ample time to take a long, cooling bath and sit at the engawa eating watermelons while watching Kenshin do the laundry or the gardening or whatever household chore he fancied for the day.

Today however had been hotter than usual and Kaoru briefly wished that she was alone at the dojo so she could changed into something more lightweight, like a yukata.

A slightly opened yukata.

She missed those days when she could just lie down, arms and legs thrown around and not have a care in the world about propriety. It was a constant learning process and test of patience living with two grown men and a young boy on the verge of manhood.

She could not understand how her father had dealt with so many hotheaded, pigheaded, sweaty, untidy – well, except for Kenshin – scoundrels.

Ugh!

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, leaning her head against one of the columns of the engawa, her socked feet listlessly swinging at the edge. If only there was tiny little breeze to alleviate this heat. She wanted very much to loosen the summer kimono that she was wearing.

She'd been planning on going to The Akabeko later. It was the only reason why she had dressed up today. Tae-san had promised her that she'd prepare anmitsu and Kaoru could already taste the sweet red bean paste inside her mouth, but as the day progressed it had become too hot that she could barely move from her spot.

Even Kenshin had decided not to do any outdoor activity, quietly sitting beside her instead. Apparently feeling the same kind of stupor that had descended upon them.

It was the kind of heat that robbed you of thought and speech and Kaoru had been imagining dipping into a tub filled with ice cold water when the sound of bells and sirens blasted through the tepid air.

Another fire.

There have been small conflagrations around the city, what with the heat and people being addled by it, someone was always bound to fall asleep with a lit cigarette or mothers too distracted by the heatwave would leave matches lying around for bored children to play with. Easily put out without much fuss but when she'd look up, startled by the sound, she could see dark plumes in the sky, getting bigger by the second.

"It looks like that's from the docks." Kaoru murmured, sitting up straight.

"That it does, Kaoru-dono." There's an almost sleepy quality in Kenshin's voice, low and raw from not having spoken for a quite a while, but she sensed his alertness as he stood up, grimly looking at the cloud of smoke that had impossibly become larger at such a short amount of time. Before Kaoru could say anything, Kenshin had stepped off the engawa, already sliding his zori on.

"Kenshin-" she had started to stand up as well, but Kenshin had placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stilling her.

"Please stay here, Kaoru-dono. It is too hot, that it is. Yahiko and I will go check if we could be of any help." His eyes are narrowed, an unpleasant thought obviously occurring to him but Kaoru didn't think that a fire, a safe distance from their home, should be of any concern.

"Don't over exert yourself Kenshin." She told him, the warning tone in her voice softened his eyes, the corners crinkling as he very visibly tried not to smile.

"I mean it, Kenshin." She added a little more firmly, fighting the urge to grab on to the ends of Kenshin's hair and pull on it just to show him how serious she was. "Absolutely no running inside burning buildings. None of that foolishness. I forbid it, Kenshin."

Kenshin's eyes gleamed at her. "Aa, Kaoru-dono, this one promise to stay behind the police line, that I do."

A blatant lie. The insufferable jerk. But Kaoru was too tired to argue and she only gave him her mightiest glare, one that was enough to make Sano squirm.

It apparently does not work on Kenshin as he merely reached out to briefly pat the top of her hand, his fingers lingering for just a few second more and Kaoru suddenly felt all hot inside. Like she had swallowed a whole taiyaki fresh from the oven and now it was idly swimming inside her stomach. She felt her whole face heating up and was rewarded with a genuinely amused smile from Kenshin who had leaned forward, just a fraction of an inch, head bowed down that she couldn't even see his eyes.

She felt herself freeze, her heart stuttering inside her chest. Kenshin seemed to have sensed this as he slowly, almost languidly, pulled back, the same amused smile still on his face before murmuring a quick goodbye.

She reluctantly let him go, trying not to worry so much as she watched as Kenshin waiting for Yahiko by the gate, ready to provide some much-needed assistance to the Tokyo Police.

Once they have closed the gate behind them, Kaoru sent a quick prayer to Kami-sama that no one was hurt from the fire and that her boys would come back unharmed.

She let her lids drop, trying to recapture that emotion she had felt when Kenshin had nearly invaded her private space. He'd never done that before…she wondered if it was brought upon the heatwave or something that he had seen in her face – when she had been imagining tugging at his hair…

Kaoru took a deep breath her eyes suddenly snapping open as she realized that she was finally alone. She let out a lazy smile as she pulled on the collar of her kimono, loosening it a bit. She let herself lay down, sprawled on the engawa, enjoying the little comfort it gave her.

--------

A shadow loomed over her.

It took her a second to realize that she had fallen asleep and the presence of someone looking down made her sit up, grabbing the nearest object she could reach to use as weapon: it was an emptied tea cup, utterly useless but she threw it with all of her might, hoping that in her still half-asleep state, her aim would be good enough.

It wasn't.

A hand caught it with ease and then a glint of light caught her eyes as she stared up into the face of Yukishiro Enishi, casually staring down at her as he pushed the bridge of his eyeglasses up to his nose, his other hand crushing the tea cup in his fist.

Kaoru let out a small gasp, realizing that that was her favorite and most expensive cup. Kenshin always took great care when handling it and now it has been turned into dust.

The indignant scream of rage that had wanted to escape her throat was swallowed down as Enishi wordlessly tossed something at her feet, it made a soft sound as it hit the wooden floor. Scrambling to sit up she glared at the object only to find out that it was Tomoe-san's diary.

She frowned and then slowly turned to look up at Kenshin's possibly deranged brother-in-law, now apparently escaped from prison, fugitive brother-in-law.

This could not be happening to her.

"I'm dreaming." She muttered darkly, more to herself, ignoring the man standing before her. She reached out to touch the diary, but pulled her hand at the last minute, her fingers curling in mid air before digging into the plump flesh of her palms. "I just need to wake up and everything will be fine." She closed her eyes, wondering rather inanely, if closing one's eyes would work when trying to wake up, wasn't she supposed to be doing the opposite? But -

Enishi was not cooperating. "I've read it." He told her, breaking the silence and forcing her to once again open her eyes, back to the dream. He was looking at her as though they were having some conversation that she had missed entirely because, what?!

"What?" She asked, equal parts perplexed and irritated at her inability to wake herself up.

"Nee-san's diary. I read it like you told me to." Enishi's voice held the same quality as Kenshin's earlier. A low rumble that sounded too unused and raw. Like those were the first words he had uttered since the last time she had seen him at his ruined garden, clutching at his stomach, sobbing Tomoe's name. He looked strangely normal all things considered. He was wearing an unusually bright orange Chinese robe that made Kaoru squint.

Kami-sama. She brought her hand to the side of her head, pressing hard, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

And then completely out of nowhere, in an almost toneless, disinterested voice, Yukishiro Enishi asked her: "Are you married now?"

Again, "What?!"

Enishi frowned at her. "Am I not making myself clear, Kamiya-san?" Now he was impatient, the tone of his voice changing into something that sounded suspiciously patronizing.

Kaoru absolutely hated being treated like she was a child. "Shut-up." She hissed at him. "What are you doing here?"

Enishi made a displeased sound at the back of his throat, "Why is your kimono open, Kamiya-san?"

Why is my -?

Kaoru felt her left eye violently twitching before letting out a shrieked loud enough to disturb their neighbors, it was a wonder no one came rushing in to check if she was alright. Kaoru had the presence of mind to clutch at her kimono, closing the tiniest of gaps that Enishi deemed improper. The stupid jerk. He couldn't have seen anything.

She took a deep breath, both hands clenching into tight fists as she gathered all of the swearwords Sanosuke had taught her and was about to let Enishi have them when something inside her head clicked.

She blinked up at her former captor who looked almost friendly, if it weren't for the stoic expression on his face that might actually surpass the permanently emotionless face of Shinamori-san. "The fire, that was you?!"

Enishi merely shrugged, untroubled by her accusation. "It was an old, hideous building. Abandoned." He added when Kaoru opened her mouth to protest, "I did Tokyo a favor."

A favor?! Kaoru wondered how exactly Enishi's head worked. How was deliberately burning a building –

"It was the green one with the stupid yellow door." He explained further, seeing the balled-up fists that Kaoru was shaking at him.

Kaoru saw the building inside her head and winced. It was incredibly ugly and she had complained about it to Tae-san about how much of an eye sore it was and she wished someone would just burn it to the ground but hadn't meant it literally!

She suddenly jumped up when she noticed Enishi stepping into the engawa.

Going into her Chūdan-no-kamae stance, her left foot just a few inches behind her right foot, her left heel elevated, hip thrust forward. Her shoulder was too tense though and she had to concentrate, trying to relax her shoulders.

She took deep breaths, readying herself for any attack. She didn't have her bokken with her, dammit, but she wasn't going to be taken without a fight. Not again. Never again. If she had to claw out Enishi's eyes or shove his glasses to his eyeballs, she'd do it.

"Stay back." Kaoru hissed at Enishi as he took another step towards her. "I will not let you take me again."

Enishi frowned at her. "Take you? Why would you think I'd want to take you?" He asked in a tone that suggested something entirely different to Kaoru, she just didn't know what, which further annoyed her. This was too weird to be a dream.

Yukishiro Enishi was really here. Again. In her dojo. And he made damn certain that no one was with her but he didn't want to take her.

Why couldn't Kenshin's brother-in-law be Yahiko's age?! She'd have a better way of dealing with that instead of this brown eyed, six feet, bulging muscles of insanity - Kaoru shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "What do you want then, you creep?"

Enishi merely raised his eyebrows, a dark severe line, in complete contrast to his disheveled white hair. "Is this how you normally react when asked if you're already married?"

Kaoru's jaw dropped. A hummingbird can probably fly inside and make a nest inside her mouth. She quickly clamped it shut before, letting out a battle cry: "You jerk! That's not of your business!" She lunged at Enishi, who smoothly slid out of her way and she tried another attack, swiping her feet from underneath him, which he also dodged by jumping away from her. He backed into the dojo and Kaoru followed, grabbing a bokken. Finally, a weapon she could use. She grinned in triumph and prepared to attack once again.

The bastard didn't even break a sweat as he effortless avoided her blows – and if he hadn't, she would've cracked his head. The whistling sound her bokken made every time she swung it towards Enishi filled the air.

Still, he sidestepped, graceful and damn it, oh so elegantly. It was almost as if he was dancing, his feet light and silent.

"Kuso, stay still!" Kaoru ordered, completely losing her patience, panting like a wild boar.

And the stupid fucking Yukishiro smirked at her.

Smirked! She was going to wipe that off of his beautiful face.

Wait.

WHAT?!

"I take it you aren't married yet." Enishi finally said, stepping into the line of her attack.

Gotcha!

But of course, like before, his hands clamped around her bokken, snatching it from her with restrained viciousness and throwing it somewhere against the wall where it noisily clattered.

Completely unperturbed by the events, Enishi then very casually asked her, "Do you want to go to Shanghai with me, Kamiya-san?"

And Kaoru thought, not for the first time in her life, that she was cursed to deal with incorrigible men that she would very much like to whack with her bokken.

Mou!

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

Author's Note:

And that is what I have so far. I don't know what to do with it. Anyway, tell me what you think. This fic is borne out of the sheer frustration of The Final and how Jinchuu Arc, which I am now calling the Cursed Arc for obvious reasons– had been - watered down seems too kind, ne?

But I'll rant some more if I can manage to have a second chapter up. Maybe.

Lastly, I typed this all up really fast while pretending to work so, if there are any typos, annoying grammatical errors, I promise I'll come back and try to fix them. I hope.

Translations and notes:

The hour of the hare: 6:00 a.m.

Anmitsu is a traditional Japanese dessert, traced back to the Meiji era (1868 to 1912). It consists of cubes of agar jelly, which are made using water and/or different fruit juices. Typically served in a bowl, with toppings like slices of fruit and sweet red bean paste. The dessert is also served with a sweet black syrup, kuromitsu,(the -mitsu in anmitsu) that's poured over the treat just before you enjoy it.

Taiyaki - Fish shaped cakes filled with anko (red bean paste)

Chūdan-no-kamae is the middle posture used in kenjutsu. The most basic stance, it allows for a balance between attacking and defense. When performed correctly, the practitioner's trunk and right wrist are protected

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (1)

"Is it possible to become a hero like you even without using any quirks?" Toshinori thought that it was a strange question. Strangely worded, and with too obvious an answer to be worth asking. Still, he stopped. The memory of a similarly naive middle-schooler from way too long ago made him pause. He shouldn't have paused. Another impossibly shrill scream erupted from the boy when Toshinori tried to reassure him of his identity, and turned up with a mouthful of blood instead. What a charming day this was proving to be. Almost an entire night spent awake due to his old wound deciding to make a fuss and disregard any sort of painkillers he threw at it, a frustrating morning followed by an equally frustrating afternoon he had struggled to navigate through with the alertness of a drunken sloth, which had caused him to get lost in the sewers while chasing a dangerous criminal, as well as fail to notice a whole human being sticking to his leg as he took off at the speed of several hundreds kilometres per hour, and now this.

Toshinori took a proper gander at the brand new crack in his privacy. He was a freckled, scrawny thing, with unruly green hair and enough jitters to be picked up by the nearest seismographs, probably.

"How... How? Is it- are you- are..." The boy stuttered, pale and physically shivering from the shock. "Is... was that your quirk? A transformation quirk?" He brought a hand to his mouth, subconsciously mimicking Toshinori as he wiped the blood from his lips. "That hurts you when you use it?" "...Something of the sort." It was an explanation as good as any. They stared at each other for a few moments, before the kid dropped his gaze and started muttering to himself. Toshinori could barely make out the words, but it seemed to be something about internet forums and theories about All Might's quirk. Toshinori sighed and sat down on the concrete, leaning his back against the railing to catch some much needed breath. There was no point in running off now, was there? He supposed the most sensible thing to do at this point was to have a little chat with the boy, if only to ascertain whether he was capable or willing to keep such a momentous secret. He waited for the boy to finish his quiet soliloquy... for two or three minutes, during which the onslaught of words didn't show any sign of dwindling. He politely cleared his throat, and the young man's attention was immediately back on him. "What's your name, boy?" "Uh... Izuku. Izuku Midoriya." "Midoriya." Toshinori acknowledged with a nod. "And you're quirkless, I take it." "Oh... Uh... Uhm..." Midoriya snappily clasped his hands behind his back and his eyes darted around as if caught stealing jam. It was an understandable reaction, if a tad overblown, Toshinori thought. Quirklessness was rare these days, and never something one could be proud of. His own powerlessness had frustrated him in his youth, and it positively tore at him in the present, now that his physical condition rendered him functionally quirkless for more than twenty hours a day. "Regarding your first question..." Toshinori paused, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Was there any way of putting this kindly? "Surely you realize the huge dangers and requirements that come with a hero's profession. Pros risk their lives every day, and in order to even make a livelihood out of it, they need to achieve a certain amount of success and visibility. Frankly, I'd advise anyone with a less than exceptional quirk, either in terms of combat ability or versatility, to think very carefully about undertaking this career path. To think of someone without a quirk attempting it..." Midoriya's head dropped again. "I... I see... But what if...?" The boy bit his lip and trailed off with a conflicted look. He shook his head, apparently reaching some private conclusion, and continued. "It's just... I've always admired you so much! Saving people with a fearless smile is just about the most inspiring and incredible thing one can do! If only everyone followed your example-" "I should hope they wouldn't have to!" Toshinori interjected decisively. "You know, the world I dream of is one where only few of the very strongest have to bear the hero's burden, so that all the more people can be free to enjoy their lives without fear or extreme sacrifices. We aren't there yet, not by a long shot, but..." He allowed himself a little smile. "I'm sure happy to know I'm inspiring courageous and driven citizens such as yourself." Midoriya's face immediately acquired a marked tomato hue. A small barrage of stuttered thanks followed. Toshinori raised a hand to stop him. "Look, kid. Your heart is in the right place and there's nothing worthier in life than pursuing your dreams, but... I cannot in good conscience encourage you to follow a path that would ultimately destroy you. You have no hope of becoming a hero - no hope to survive as a hero without a quirk, and a damn good one at that. As you can see..." Toshinori gestured towards himself, unable to keep his smile from turning sour. "Not even I can be a hero like me without using my quirk." Midoriya took it better than Toshinori was expecting, all things considered. Those anxious eyes roved around his gaunt form for a few moments, sympathetic and a tad disturbed. But the boy's features soon composed themselves into a look of calm thoughtfulness. "I understand." He nodded, straightening up his back, only to curl slightly upon himself all over when doubt reared its head again. "I guess... I'll just have to find a different solution..." "Indeed. If helping people is your goal, there are plenty of professions that regularly achieve that. Healthcare professionals, lawyers, policemen, firefighters, social workers-" "I know, I know..." Midoriya's expression became distant. No doubt it wasn't the first time he received such a speech. Children these days received their first career advice as early as primary school, during the mandatory quirk counselling sessions, to help them better understand how their abilities could be nurtured and directed into constructive endeavors for the benefit of the whole community. Now that Toshinori thought of it... did quirkless children like Midoriya even receive any such counselling? The program didn't exist when Toshinori himself was a kid, so he realized he didn't quite know. A lack of career counselling would explain the boy's irrealistic hopes. "If you are dead set on working in the heroics field, there are options there as well." Toshinori added, determined to do at least one thing right that day and offer the poor kid a grain of useful advice. "Have you considered working as a support item engineer or as a quirk analyst, for example? You certainly seem to have the qualities for jobs like these." "Uh? How can you say that?" "I took the liberty of flipping through your notebook before signing it." Toshinori tapped his temple as the boy's cheek tinged with pink again. He really wore his heart on his sleeve, didn't he? "You seem to have quite a well-organized mind, and keen observation skills. If I were you, I wouldn't underestimate how far those two talents could bring you in the right field." "Ah... Thank you! I- it's just a hobby, nothing more! But thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to answer my question! And give me advice! And listen to-" It devolved into another short stream of gratefulness and humility. Toshinori deemed his impromptu orientation session a job decently done and he finally stood up. His left side gave a sharp twinge. He couldn't wait to be back home, stun it with a generous helping of ibuprofen and hopefully catch up on a few hours of sl- ah crap, he'd left his grocery bag near the manhole he had emerged from, hadn't he? Maybe it would be quicker to just do the whole shopping again at the closest convenience store... "Now, about what you just saw..." Toshinori approached the boy, lowered his voice and scanned his surroundings automatically, as if there was anyone who could overhear them on the small rooftop they were standing on. "I don't think I need to point out that it would be really, really bad if voices of a secretly emaciated Symbol of Peace were to start circulating, on the web or by other venues-" Midoriya raised his head from the deep bow he had maintained for the last good minute, eyes wide. "O-oh! Of course-" "But I'm going to do it anyway. It would be really bad. Catastrophic. Not only for me, because I would know exactly who put the rumors forth and I would have some choice words for said source, smash being one of them." He had meant it in jest, but the terrified expression on Midoriya's face warned him not to put too much faith on the boy's sense of humour. He showed the palms of his hands in the universal gesture for I'm not going to smash anything. "...I'm joking! Obviously. But I do need to know if I can count on your utmost discretion." "O-Of course! Your secret is safe! I swear it on my life, All Might! No one will know!" There was no doubting the fervor radiating from Midoriya's every pore. Toshinori nodded and squeezed the boy's shoulder while also not-so-subtly pushing him towards the door to the stairs. "Good to know, good to know. Now, let us both be off." Toshinori moved towards the exit as well, patting the pocket of his cargo pants. "I have to hand this guy over to the nearest precinct before-" His hand patted rough cloth and the wiry muscle of his thigh, and nothing inbetween. Toshinori stopped in his tracks and checked his right pocket. Then his left one. Both empty. He gazed around the rooftop in confusion, noticing a clear lack of plastic containers on the barren expanse of concrete. "Hey, have you seen..." He started, glancing at Midoriya. Who was staring at his empty pockets in obvious distress, both hands covering his mouth as if to keep himself silent. Something cold gripped Toshinori's scrambled insides. "...the bottles... where..." Toshinori's sleep-deprived brain pieced it all together with frustrating slowness. Loose trousers pockets. Clingy boy. Hundreds of kilometres per hour. Gravity. RIght on cue, a loud explosion made them turn their heads in unison, and a black cloud of smoke erupted among a cluster of buildings a little to the south of the one they were standing on. "...Shit." A small part of Toshinori's mind added 'cursing in front of a child' to the impressive streak of fuck-ups he was accumulating in a single day, but most of his evidently dwindling faculties were busy trying to come up with a way to unravel the current predicament. He marched to the door without wasting another moment. "Go home. Take a detour if you have to, just stay well away from there." "It's my fault." Once again, despite Toshinori's better judgement, the boy's words compelled him stop. Even muffled by Midoriya's hands, his whispers sounded positively agonized. "I made you drop them. It's my fault. Oh God, what do I...?" "What? Don't be absurd! You didn't do anything, I should have-" It came out more harshly than he thought, and the kid's horrified eyes snapped back to him. God, he hated seeing him blame himself for what was clearly Toshinori's blunder - a blunder unworthy of the greenest of rookies, let alone of the celebrated number one hero - but there was really no time to waste self-recriminating. "Look, just go home. I'll-" "I can't! None of this would have happened if I'd just-" Midoriya burst out, halting his own words just as abruptly and wringing his hands guiltily. "I have to help! I can help! Let me-" "All right then." Toshinori said, and his ready agreement shocked the boy into silence just as he had expected. Telling him to wait around and do nothing wasn't going to work with that hero-obsessed mentality of his, so he chose a different approach. "Here's what you'll do. You'll stay here until you've calmed down enough to keep your wits about you. Then you'll go to the nearest police station - there's one just over there - and tell the officers what just happened. Minus the part where you've seen me like this, obviously-" "How's that going to help?! They can see the smoke, by the time I get there they'll already know-" "We don't know if that explosion is the villain's doing. It might be unrelated, and in that case the villain would be still at large." Toshinori explained with his most commanding tone, despite the urge to dash off. "Even if it is connected to the villain, I scooped him up into two bottles. We don't know if each half is capable of causing damage on its own. You have to alert the police so that they can start searching for both as quickly as possible. I'll take care of whatever that accident is." Despite the panic, Midoriya seemed to process his words. He gulped, and gave him a worried once-over. "But... can you fight again? Even like that?" "Tsk! I'd expect more trust from a fan." One more for the road, Toshinori coached himself. He reached into his quirk and flexed, his muscle form puffing up dutifully and his trademark smile slotting back in place. He gave the boy a confident thumbs up. "I'll have this solved before you can blink!" Toshinori flung himself down the stairway before Midoriya could come up with more objections. He managed five flights of stairs before his quirk failed him again and one hundred and eighty kilos of muscles went up in steam. He stumbled as he coughed up more blood, his scar hurting like it was trying to murder him, but he didn't stop. Hopefully the boy would follow his orders and make himself marginally useful, and more importantly he would keep himself out of trouble and away from the danger zone. Meanwhile, Toshinori... well, he'd have to clean up his own mess in some way or another.

Izuku stood stock-still for a good minute before his body reconnected to his brain. A lot had happened in the last half an hour, there was... there was a lot to unpack there. First things first, his duty. The admittedly sensible instructions given to him by All Might himself. Point number one was regaining a semblance of lucidity. His legs felt like jelly, so he simply let himself slump to the ground and breathe deeply. Never in a million years, not even in the darkest and most conspiratorial corners of the net, Izuku would have ever imagined to discover what he had discovered about All Might. All Might had a quirk... that debilitated him? Some sort of temporary performance-enhancing boost that wore his body down whenever he used it? Because what Izuku had just seen wasn't the body of a healthy person, not even remotely. Pale, hunched, with barely any flesh hanging from his still oversized bones, with sunken eyes and non-existent cheeks. Totally unperturbed by the gush of blood spurting from his mouth, as if that was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. Was it the result of decades of continued usage? Was Japan's Symbol of Peace constantly and deliberately harming himself in order to do his job? Izuku had experienced firsthand that powerful quirks came with unforeseen drawbacks, but this... this was... This was none of his business, Izuku chided himself. All Might was... All Might. Number one hero. An unprecedent and yet unsurpassed phenomenon. He knew what he was doing, for sure. It was presumptuous of Izuku to even doubt that he did. He had said he would take care of things, and he was certainly going to. Izuku scratched his head furiously, as if to rid himself of those intrusive thoughts. He felt better, more grounded. Time to move onto step two. He made his way down the stairs and out of the building, slowly, mindful of the lingering dizziness, careful not to trip and cause himself and others further troubles. The street was full of curious onlookers glancing at the rising column of smoke, filming it with their phones and chattering about it among themselves. Luckily, Izuku spotted a policeman almost immediately, as he was busy trying to disperse the small crowds and redirect the traffic. He recounted his tale, purged from gossip-inducing details, to the zealous officer, who promptly reported it to his superiors via his radio. There, he'd accomplished his task. Quick and effortless. The last item on his to-do last was heading home. Izuku stood on the sidewalk, contemplating the enlarging black cloud. Smaller explosions could still be heard popping in the air now and then. It had been at least ten minutes since All Might's departure and, judging by the heated talking coming from the officer nearby, the crisis hadn't been solved yet. Izuku thought back of how All Might had left the building using the stairs, instead of one of his much quicker, much more efficient leaps. A gnarling unease gripped his stomach, and his feet started moving on their own. He just couldn't get it out of his head. His idol's shrunken body, the immense tiredness that seeped through his every movement when in that form, his stern request for discretion. Your very life and safety may depend on your discretion, Izuku. Izuku shivered. Accidents aside, he had acted for the best, hadn't he? Despite everything... Civilians were not allowed to use quirks freely on public grounds, even though exceptions could be made in case of blatant self-defense. But even if he had used his quirk to stop the sludge villain by himself, what would he have done afterwards? He doubted he could use his newly acquired quirk effectively, and in a quirkless fight against an adult, he would have gotten the short end of the stick anyway. Not to mention the aftermath. Questions. His quirk revealed. Suspicion and distrust. Izuku's legs brought him to the site of the accident in a rushed daze, as his thoughts wandered in circles. He peered beyond the crowd of onlookers, and the scene he witnessed froze the blood in his veins. It was a disaster. The sludge villain was indeed responsible for it, and he had a hostage as well, tightly wrapped in layers and layers of goo. Numerous fires surrounded the captor and his victim, the heat and destruction giving them an almost hellish appearance. Almost half a dozen of heroes were already involved, but none of them seemed capable of creating an opening or coming up with a plan to face the situation. A veritable tragedy was unfolding before everyone's eyes, and no one was moving an inch to stop it. Izuku gazed around in a frenzy, searching for the one man who could and would solve it all. He spotted him quickly enough, his wild blond mane making him easy to pinpoint even with his gaunt frame huddled against a wall. All Might, the number one hero, looked like he was barely managing to stand on his feet. Hunched over, jaw clenched, one hand holding onto the nearest lamppost, the other clutching his side tightly, bright blue eyes dimmed in frustration and trained on the grim spectacle unfolding in the fiery lane. The sight dispelled any remaining doubt in Izuku's mind. All Might couldn't intervene. He couldn't use his quirk freely, either because of some pre-existing hard limit, or in fear of the repercussions it would have on his body. He had had to waste some of his limited stamina to save Izuku earlier that day - save him from a danger that Izuku could have, should have at least tried to handle himself - and now he was too drained to help. And the current hostage was paying for that - Izuku's heart nearly stopped as said hostage suddenly thrashed about enough to free a small portion of his face, enough for Izuku to recognize him, as more explosions boomed and set ablaze more of the surrounding buildings. Kacchan. Izuku moved without thinking, his mind blank. In that moment, he couldn't think about anything - not his father's recommendation, not his fear of exposure, not his weakness or inexperience, not the Symbol of Peace, not even his crushing guilt - except one thing. He couldn't let Kacchan die for his mistakes. A lot happened, very quickly, too quickly for him to process. The crowd and the heroes screamed. The villain saw him and readied a blow. Izuku barely dodged it by bodily throwing himself to the side, blindly. He landed hard on something that felt like overheated metal, but it didn't hurt too much. A slimy arm impacted solidly against the asphalt, missing him by mere centimetres. Goo from the monstruous limb splattered all around, staining his clothes. Without thinking, he reached for the green mass with both hands, let his palms sink into it, closed his eyed to focus and just did it. There was a strong gust of wind, as if a very fast car had suddenly raced past him and barely missed him, at the same time as he heard the asphalt crack a little to his left. Suddenly, all went perfectly still and silent. Izuku gulped, and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was All Might's massive back. Roaring muscles filling his oversized clothes amidst thin strands of steam, the hero was standing in full bulk right between him and the villain, his right arm raised and poised as if charging a punch, but completely motionless. There was no more sludge around Izuku's hands, nor anywhere in the street. Peeking between All Might's legs, Izuku saw Kacchan twitching weakly on the ground, and another person standing beside him. A thin, flabby-looking guy, with an ashen complexion and not a single hair on his head, face or bare chest. A blood-curling scream erupted from the man's - the villain's - mouth. As he stared in stark horror at himself - probably seeing his human limbs for the first time in his life, Izuku realized - the weird silence and stillness instantly receded. The heroes rushed forward to help Kacchan and apprehend the panicking criminal, the crowd cheered, and All Might turned to look at Izuku. There was no smile on his face. Izuku had never seen the Symbol of Peace without his usual cheery attitude. He realized the hero looked a lot less reassuring without it, and a lot more... purely, bleakly intimidating. The sheer magnitude of what Izuku had just done suddenly hit him like a train. He scrambled to his feet, heart beating wildly in his chest, and sprinted towards the closest alley. He heard All Might's voice calling to him, but he ignored it and ran, ran until his lungs burned with the effort and the tears made it impossible to see where he was going.

An undefined number of streets and turns and forks later, Izuku stopped. He collapsed against the closest wall, gasping for air and clutching at his jacket in a desperate effort not to succumb to hysteria. He'd done it. He'd used his quirk in front of a whole crowd of civilians and heroes. There was no hope of avoiding the consequences of that. Kacchan would dispel any doubt the police may have about what had transpired. Even though his childhood friend had kept quiet about it for years, out of... Fear? Respect? Leverage? Izuku honestly had no idea - there was no reason for him to shield him from the official investigations. It was out of Izuku's hands now. But maybe... maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He had saved his friend from a gruesome fate, first of all, which was undoubtedly good. And maybe his father was plainly wrong, maybe their quirk could be tolerated, even accepted by society at large. Maybe even trained for the purpose of- "Midoriya!" Izuku's stomach did another somersault. All Might's skinny silhouette had just emerged from a nearby road and was approaching him quickly, one long arm raised to catch his attention. Oh God, Izuku had hoped he'd be too busy to chase him right off the bat. He'd hoped he could at least make it back home and talk with his father, with his mother before... "There you are! Why did you run off like- Hey, are you hurt?" All Might asked, immediately grabbing his arm to support him when Izuku wobbled dangerously. The man eyed his side worriedly, and Izuku finally remembered to check it himself. His jacket was torn and singed where he had fallen on the burning debris, but the layers of clothing underneath were surprisingly intact, and so was Izuku. "No no, I'm fine, thank you. I just... I guess I was scared of being told off for rushing in." Izuku offered with a poor attempt at a smile. "More afraid of being reproached than of facing a villain head on? You're an odd one, all right." All Might chuckled, visibly amused. "Law enforcers can be sticklers for non-professional quirk usage rules, but I don't think you would have gotten into too much trouble, all things considered." "I-I see... well... I guess I'll have to deal with it anyway, sooner or later..." "Ah... Not necessarily. I don't think anyone other than me realized what you did. In fact..." All Might rubbed the back of his neck with an oddly embarassed grimace. "I think I may have... sort of accidentally taken the merit of what happened back there. People saw me and just assumed I smashed the sludge off the villain faster than the eye can see. Journalists were already showing up and I was running quite low on stamina, so I scampered off before, you know... " He gestured at himself eloquently. "I can release an official statement later to rectify the matter, if you want. I'd hate to steal the spotlight of an aspiring hero." Izuku blinked. No one else knew? Kacchan hadn't talked? Or had All Might fled before he could hear his account? Probably the latter. And... "Aspiring hero?" "Indeed. It seems I have made some wrong assumptions about you." All Might positively beamed, ruffling his own hair and regarding Izuku with a sort of challenging grin that made Izuku squirm on the spot. "You aren't quirkless at all, are you?" "I never said I was..." Izuku tried to deflect lamely, hoping not to sound too cheeky. All Might merely laughed in response. "Very true! A variant of Erasure, isn't it? I've never seen any Erasure quirk work on mutant types, but I guess it is true that the new generations are naturally more endowed." "Uh... Y... Yeah..." Izuku heard himself say. He... He didn't want to lie. There wasn't even any point in lying considering that Kacchan was going to expose the truth anyway. But Izuku's mouth had been basically running on autopilot since his idol had materialized into his life, and his brain seemed to have lost the computational power to rein it in when said hero was in the vicinity. "That's good! Very good! Why would you be concerned about not using your quirk?" All Might scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed strangely unbothered by the fact that Izuku hadn't corrected him earlier, prompting him to waste valuable time of his day to bestow misplaced advice. "I guess Erasers tend to be somewhat at a disadvantage with rescue operations and solo missions... But I can assure you that, when it comes to apprehending villains, any combat specialist would beg to be teamed up with an Eraser. They're the absolute best support in case of quirk misfires and misuse... As you've just proven yourself." All Might seemed hell bent on encouraging Izuku's dream, now that he saw a real chance of success for him. Izuku was... moved, honestly, and sincerely grateful. But the hero was, once again, wasting his words. That wasn't Izuku's quirk, Izuku's quirk was far more sinister in its mechanics, far less likely to be requested or even endorsed by the hero community. Far more powerful, frighteningly so. Would All Might even be standing so close to the boy, within an arm's length, if he knew what would befall him if a hint of greed or envy pushed Izuku to- "Don't look down on yourself, kid." A bony yet amicable hand squeezed Izuku's shoulder, ripping him out of his meandering thoughts. All Might was smiling openly, his voice tinged with a softness that was entirely at odds with his haggard looks. "Your quirk might be less flashy than others, but I've seen enough today to know that you're definitely hero material, both in skills and heart." The really important thing is recognizing your own flesh and blood. Recognizing yourself. Izuku had been thinking a lot about that old interview of All Might's lately. The closer the UA admission test got, the more he found himself doubting his father's pessimistic take on the villainous nature of their quirk, and the more he wondered if he shouldn't trust himself, recognize himself, with enough conviction that everyone else would simply have to trust and recognize him too, eventually. It was easier said than done, of course. Spending the first twelve years of his life as quirkless hadn't exactly geared him towards building oodles of self-confidence. But he had to start somewhere. And if there was anyone in the world who was likely to see and trust and recognize Izuku for who he was, villanous quirk or not... it had to be him. The man who was the living embodiment of hope, reliability, rectitude and positivity. The man who apparently had a quirk with such a detrimental side effect that he ought to avoid resorting to it like the plague, and yet who kept using anyway, for the sake of the people. The man who was standing right in front of Izuku, giving it his all to obliterate his insecurities with sensible and kind words, with something awfully akin to pride for him shining in his clear eyes. If there was anyone that could change Izuku's world, it was All Might. "I, ah... actually, I... that isn't my quirk." "Oh?" All Might would have raised an eyebrow, if he had any. "Then what is it?" "I..." Izuku gulped. "I can take quirks. From other people. Permanently. And use them as my own." Silence. Not a muscle had moved on All Might's face, but suddenly his smile seemed a lot less alive, and a lot more set in stone. Izuku willed himself to keep speaking. "That's what I did to the villain. I stole- I took his quirk. It was the fastest way to stop him. The only way I could think of. It... worked quite well, uh?" Izuku offered a tentative smile, at the same time as All Might's started to fade. That... didn't bode well. But of course not even All Might could react to such a piece of information with immediate enthusiasm, it was a lot to take in, Izuku understood that. No doubt any moment now he'd slip back into his pep talk, reassure him of his chances to become a hero, wipe away his insecurities with a blinding smile and a boisterous laugh- "Do you still have it? The villain's quirk?" All Might asked in a whisper. "I do." Izuku knew, without really needing to try it out. He knew it with the same certainty as he knew that he was thirsty, or that his side did in fact hurt a little bit, or that most of skin was constantly brushing against his clothes. It was an almost visceral sensation, both conscious and subconscious, that he couldn't quite put into words. "I could try to use it too, if I wanted. Although I d-don't, really. I don't think I'll want to see any more slime for the next ten years or so, especially not on myself. Or as myself..." Izuku chuckled nervously, his heart growing heavier as All Might's expression reverted to one of studied, rigid neutrality. For once in his life, words failed him completely. He wrung his hands in discomfort, hoping that All Might would be the one to break that increasingly worrying silence. But his fidgeting caught the hero's attention. Very slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, All Might's hand left Izuku's shoulder and took the boy's hand in his own, turning it over. He straightened the curled fingers with his thumb, fully exposing his palm and the small, circular hole right in the center of it. And then all of Izuku's hopes crumbled to dust. Very scary, very disturbing things had happened to him that day. He had almost died, he had almost accidentally killed a friend, he had inadvertedly learned a potentially peace-endangering secret, he had been forced to reveal a personally-endangering secret. He could have lived with all of that, probably. But nothing could have prepared him for the subtle shaking of All Might's hand as he observed the stigmata of Izuku's quirk. Nothing could have humiliated more than the sharp inhale of his idol, than the way his breath caught in his throat in obvious shock. Nothing could have confirmed his father's warnings more than the one thing he would have never, never, never expected to see - let alone cause - in the eyes of the Symbol of Peace. Fear.

[marieantoine]

I, Psyche

Here Tumblr, my first attempt to write something after a lot of years. It’s a very descriptive, personal analysis I made on Psyche’s character. She is my favorite character from Greek Mythology. I need lots of painfully honest opinions guys, thank you in advance! <3

There was once a famous human beauty by the name of Psyche.  In her hair lied the melancholy of bronze shimmer, reminding of the freshly fallen leaves of late August. In the sunlight, her gentle curls shone with the kind of metallic glister that the mighty pharaohs of Egypt dreamed of adorning their bodies with. Her eyes were emeralds, and frightening was their glance, the look of those deep dark green crystals… The whole image of a flawed human soul unraveled itself into the depth of her eyes! ...with a magnitude that could make even the roughest of beings dissolve into tears. And yet, to those pure of heart, the spectacle of her eyes exuded an ethereal feeling, absorbing the whole body and soul. It was the feeling of a drop of water falling into the sea. It was frightening at first, indeed, but turned with time to be so recomforting - because, when you saw her eyes -  you knew that there was a divine existence reigning over the Universe, coordinating everything from above. You knew that the Gods had one day willingly decided to bestow such unparalleled beauty on a mere mortal - otherwise it would be an impossibility on Nature’s part to create such sublime perfection.  I could tell you endlessly of her physical virtues - her silky, white, soft skin. The symmetry of her face, the tender roundness of her arms. Her shoulders, that, just like the softly refined edges of a beach, hadn’t any real beginning or end - they were just impeccably sculpted in the way that not even a Renaissance master could replicate.  But, that would do nothing but feed into the convention that envious humans have of the creatures touched by the divine. Psyche was aware of her beauty, she was mindful of the power she held over manly instinct and she was at times disheartened by the prisma of hate & envy that other women saw her through.  She pitied them, though - she pitied them all.  ‘’What do they know of being beautiful? They are so ignorant! - they so often forget how much of a damn curse it is! Yes, indeed, it’s pleasing for one to look perfect, doing absolutely anything, not having to worry about being seen from an unflattering angle or a bad side. But what do they know about the pain of seeing divinity in the mirror, and hating, dreading the face looking back at you? What do they know of the rejection, of the emptiness, the loneliness ?’’ she thought Despite her beauty, Psyche was a indeed a lonely person. She had a sociable life, invited at every party, meeting all kinds of people, enchanting and/or scandalizing them only by being kind to them, by lacking the arrogance that was expected of her - for most of us have an internalized belief that people blessed with physical beauty must lack in some other much more important department, like intellect, emotional intelligence or humour.  But it was exactly this quality that took her above the standards of human beauty.  She was not the only beautiful girl in the world, but she was the kind of girl words like radiant are reserved for.  Yes, she had an ecstatic bodily figure and a grace in her movement that made her look as if  walking on thin air - but that was not what made her a divine beauty.  She was a genuinely kind person, not lacking in intelligence, both emotional and logical. And, if  her father had allowed it, Psyche might have been a mathematical genius and a prodigy of the fine arts, for she had a born instinct for the exploration of mathematics & logics. She was born with such longing for novelty and scientific discovery; a longing so intrinsically essential to the human nature. Or, at least, essential for her happiness and clarity of thought.  As well as a mathematician, dear Psyche was a painter, and a very skillful one at that. She had the ability of replicating what she saw almost to the accuracy of a picture, but almost, indeed. She could copy every detail of nature on her canvas - but to what end? Art is not replicating what you see, art lies in the manner of presenting nature in a whole new way, Psyche believed.Therefore, she always sprinkled her canvas with a nuance of magic & surrealism. Why was she - such a nice, kind, intelligent person - why was she so tragically lonely? It’s because she intimidated everyone around her. The women she met started conversations with her out of pure curiosity, after whispering dirty rumours about her in the corners, and they all walked up to her with the powerful conviction that something must be wrong with her - with the intention of revealing for themselves and all others that this beautiful girl was just that - a beautiful nymph that someday will succumb to age and fade away as gently as a rose dying at the first snow of a late autumn.  They tested her in every possible way - in their conversations some women would bring up some of the most intellectual subjects that they could think of and expect her to not understand and be able to respond to their remarks. They would tempt her to act disrespectfully, unkindly and even tried to make her angry & mean. But the more they dived into her thoughts and feelings, the more they tried to break through the surface of her personality - the more they discovered that there was nothing scandalous, immoral or shameful in this girl. Her soul & mind matched the grace of her outer appearance. She was a being that had successfully balanced her outer and inner self. She was kind and did good deeds out of the pure conviction that she would hate to do anything to provoke sadness and suffering in the world - with a pure belief that all people deserved someone there to at least try to prevent their suffering. She understood that everyone’s life is a little tragedy of their own - and if, for only one day you would be allowed to feel what they feel, to have their memories and walk around one day in their life - you would feel how each and everyone of their actions was completely justified. Psyche believed that every person in this world was worth crying for, in one way or another, and sometimes she cried at the thought of people not understanding the tragedy, the pain behind a person’s apparently hateful actions. She would sometimes be angered by humans’ inability to try understanding one another and seeing things from the other’s perspective. She believed with her whole soul in the idea that understanding one another would bring about a golden age of fulfillment to humanity. She was sometimes angry at herself for being angered by the hatefulness and envy that people directed at her through words & actions. She would get angry at herself for being shallow and selfish, not understanding the actions of the people around her and seeing herself as the victim, when, really, everyone was a victim of simply being alive. ‘’They are hateful because they are hurting inside.’’ she told herself. She wanted to understand them, to forgive them all, and she did, but some days she just wished the continuous tests and interrogation and envy would just stop. Even men, visibly aroused at the mere sight of her, were too intimidated and afraid to approach her.  They venerated her as the reincarnation of Aphrodite, and, in truth, didn’t see her as much of a human. They could not believe that Psyche would ever fall in love with an ordinary person, someone like them - and it was indeed a bit impossible to fall in love with a man that could not even hold a decent conversation. Some tried to talk to her, sometimes, but the visible nervousness in their voice and continuous fidgeting made her uncomfortable and nervous as to how she could possibly reassure and calm them down. It was a rare thing for a man to approach her, though. And so - our Psyche had never experienced the fiery passion of love, in a society where at 17 most girls were married and were usually having their second child by then. Of course, the people who broke through the surface of her beauty and got to know her personally discovered extraordinary qualities. They could find no fault in her - except maybe the naiveté of a young girl that she at her 17 years of age was fully entitled to possess. She was at times naive, she tended to live in the past too often and she would be trapped by her passion to build a better world, not being able to properly express herself due to the power of her feelings. These were very human faults, that no one could ever really condemn her for.  Because indeed, with her divine beauty and faultless personality, Psyche was far from a Goddess. She was a human being, just like you & me, with dreams, passions, thoughts, worries, feelings and an unstoppable curiosity. Given the chance, she would’ve loved nothing more than to build herself a ship and go out on the open oceans, just to see what’s on the other side.  We humans are tirelessly ambitious - and as youngsters we try to attain perfection in all that we do, until, someday, we stop trying. After suffering, crying and working laboriously in the name of perfection - without an expected result - someone comes by and tells us perfection is a myth. Or that perfect is imperfect. All people who have once been young and ambitious have undoubtedly experienced this, once.  And that is why people were afraid of her - they saw in her the kind of perfection & completion that they had told themselves was impossible to achieve, and therefore not worth chasing after. They saw that perfection taking form in the human flesh, and ran tirelessly, away, the second they pinched themselves and saw that it was not a dream. Ran away from the suffering, tried denying their human instinct of perfection… all to preserve their current consolation in life, the alleviation of living in a world where perfect is impossible

[bhuwanbhatt-blog]

1Digishop is Best SEO Company in Australia

Reasons Why Your Business Certainly Needs SEO:

Many brands and trades know (or think they know) that they need SEO for their digital properties and the be advantageous to they will get from that SEO work being executed on their behalf.

SEO will absolutely improve a website’s overall searchability and visibility, but what other real value does it offer? Why is SEO so significant?

These few reasons should offer some limpidity, regardless of the industry or business size, as to why trades need SEO to take their brand to the next rank.

Organic Search Is the Majority Often the Primary Source of

Website Traffic

:

Organic search is an enormous part of most business’s website performance, as well as a crucial component of the buyer funnel and eventually getting users to complete a conversion or engagement.

As marketers know, Google owns an outstandingly huge portion of the search market than challengers like Yahoo, Bing, Baidu, Yandex, DuckDuckGo, and the many, many others.

That’s not to say that all search engines don’t play a part into a brand’s visibility — they do — it’s just that Google is the owner of about 75 per cent of the overall search market. It’s the clear-cut chief and thus its guidelines are significant to follow.

But the be left-over 25 per cent of the market owned by other engines is clearly valuable to brands, too.

Google, being the majority visited website in the world (as well as particularly in the United States), also happens to be the majority popular email provider in the world (with more than one billion users). Not to mention YouTube is the second of considerable size search engine.

We know that a clear greater part of the world that has access to the internet is visiting Google at least once a day to get details.

Being appreciatively visible as a have faith in resource by Google and other search engines is always going to work in a brand’s favour. Quality SEO and a high-quality website pay a subscription to brands there.

SEO Constructs Trust & Credibility

The aim of any practical knowledge SEO is to establish a powerful foundation for a beautiful website with a clean, effective user practical knowledge that is easily discoverable in search with thanks to the confidence and credibility of the brand and its digital properties.

Many components go into establishing authority regarding search engines like Google. In inclusion to the factors mentioned above, authority is mounted up over time as a result of elements like:

Excellence backlink profiles.Positive user way of behaving.Machine-learning gestures.Optimized on-page components and be satisfied.

But put in place that authority will do more for a brand than the majority, if not all, other digital optimizations. The difficulty is, it’s impossible to build trust and credibility overnight — just like actual life. Jurisdiction is earned and built over time.

putting in place a brand as a jurisdiction takes patience, effort, and commitment, but also relies on offering a precious, quality product or service that allows customers to confidence a brand.

Of high-quality SEO Also Means a Better User Experience

Everyone wishes for better organic rankings and the highest visibility. Not many realize that optimal user experience is a large part of getting there.

Google has acquired a knowledge of how to interpret a favourable or unfavourable user experience, and affirmative user experience has become a central component to a website’s success.

Consumers know what they need. If they can’t locate it, there’s going to be an issue. And functioning will suffer.

An easy to understand example of building a strong user experience is how Google has become the majority and more of an answer engine offering the sought-after data straight on the SERPs (search engine results pages) for users.

The purpose of that is putting forward users the information they are looking for in fewer clicks, fast and easily.

Excellence SEO absorbs an affirmative user experience, leveraging it to work in a brand’s favour.

Native SEO Means Getting Bigger Engagement, Crowd & Conversions

With the make progress and growing rule of mobile traffic, native search has become a basic part of small- and medium-sized businesses’ success.

Native SEO points at optimizing your digital properties for a particular vicinity, so people can find you fast and easily, putting them one step closer to a transaction.

Native optimizations aim at particular towns, cities, regions, and even states, to establish a viable medium for a brand’s messaging on a local level.

SEO pros do this by optimizing the brand’s website and it's soothing, including native citations and backlinks, as well as native listings relevant to the location and business sector a brand belongs to.

To advertise engagement on the native level, SEO pros should optimize a brand’s Knowledge Graph panel, its Google My Business listing, and its social media outlines as a begin.

There should also be a powerful prominence on user reviews on Google, as well as other reviews places like Yelp, Home Advisor, and Angie’s List (surrounded by others), be contingent on the businesses.

SEO Impacts the Buying Rotation

Consumers do their research. That’s one of the of considerable size benefits of the internet from a buyer view.

Using SEO strategy to relay your messaging for of high-quality deals, ground-breaking products and/or services, and the significance and reliability of what you offer consumers will be a game-changer.

It will in addition doubtless affect the buying rotation in a positive way when done right.

Brands must be visible in the places people need them for a valuable link to be made. Native SEO increases that visibility and lets potential consumers find the answers, and the businesses providing those answer.

SEO Most Advantageous Practices Are Always Being Updated

It’s magnificent to have SEO strategies implemented on a brand’s website and across its digital properties, but if it’s a short-term engagement (budget restrictions, etc.) and the site isn’t re-evaluated steadily over time, it will reach a doorstep where it can no longer improve because of other hindrances.

The method the search world develops, basically at the discretion of Google, requires continual monitoring for changes to stay ahead of the competition and, hopefully, on Page one.

Being energetic and monitoring for the most important algorithm make different is always going to benefit the brands doing so.

We are aware Google does thousands of algorithms alters a year. Drop too far behind, and it will be exceptionally strenuous to come back. SEO pros help to make sure that stays away from.

Comprehending SEO Assists You Understand the Environment of the Website

With the always-changing the natural world that is the World Wide Web, it can be a dare to stay on top of the changes as they take place.

But remaining on top of SEO incorporates being in the loop for the major changes taking place for search.

Be aware of the environment of the Web, including strategy being used by other local, similar businesses and competitors will always be beneficial for those brands.

SEO Is Comparatively Inexpensive

Sure, it causes a loss of money. All the best things do, correct?

But SEO is comparatively Inexpensive in the grand scheme of things, and the payoff will most likely be considered in terms of a brand’s good and bottom line.

This isn’t a marketing cost; this is a true business venture. Of a high standard, SEO execution will hold water for years to come. And, like most things in life, will only be of higher quality with more attention (and investment) it gets.

It’s A Long-Term Master Plan

SEO can (and hopefully does) have a perceptible collision within the first year of action being taken and many of those actions will have a collision that lasts more than several years.

As the market develops, yes, it’s greatest to follow the tendency and changes closely. But even a site that hasn’t had a boatload of enormous SEO advises implemented will make better from basic SEO greatest practices being employed on an honest website with decent user experience.

And the to a greater extent SEO time, effort, and financial plan that is committed to it, the better and longer a website stand to being a value contender in its market.

It’s Quantifiable

While SEO doesn’t provide the easier-to-calculate ROI like that of paid search, you can take the measurements of almost anything with real tracking and analytics.

The considerable size issue is trying to connect the dots on the back end since there is no definitive way to understand the connection between all actions taken.

Quiet, it is value understanding how sure actions are supposed to affect show and growth, and hopefully, they do.

Any of a high standard SEO is going to be focusing on those developments, so connecting the dots should not be a challenge.

Brands also require to know and understand where they were, where they are, and where they’re going in periods of digital show, especially for SEO when they have a person/company that is being paid to carry out on its behalf.

There’s no superior way to show the favourable outcome of SEO, either. We all know the data at no time lies.

SEO Conducts New Golden Opportunities to Light

High-quality SEO will always discover a means of finding and influencing new golden opportunities for brands to, not just be discovered, but to emit light.

Providing quality SEO to brands means submersing an SEO team in everything that is that brand. It’s the only way to truly market a brand with the desire and understanding that brand’s stakeholders have for it: becoming a stakeholder.

The of higher quality a brand is understood, the more opportunities will become apparent to help it flourish. The same can be utter about SEO.

If You are Not on Page One, you are Not Winning the Clink

It’s no confidential in the world of SEO that if you’re not on page one, you’re likely not achieving the organic search game.

The latest study shows that the first three organic search ranking places result in nearly 40 per cent of all click-throughs, while up to 30 per cent of all results on Page 1 and 2 don’t get clinked at all.

What is this signify? Two things:

If you’re not on Page One, you require to be.

There are still too numerous occasions when a user types a search query and can’t find precisely what it’s looking for.

Why SEO Is Important For Your Business?

SEO (Search engine Optimization) is the most polpular way to genrate organic traffic. Organic traffic is the best and quality traffic because it helps to bring more traffic to customers website. and your website and content solve customers problem.

When you solve the customer's problem then they trust you and trust means ultimately sales.

In Seo we Have 3 types:

On page SEO

Technical SEO

Off page SEO

On page SEO:

In this we Optimize your website pages and content as accoroding to the Search engine algorithms. To have more visibility on Search engines like google, Bing and etc.

Technical SEO:

In this We Fix Technical Issues Just Like indexing and crawling issues.

Off page SEO:

In this we creating backlinks to have more brand authority on the eyes of search engines. SEO Is the long term process its wants time and dedication.

Conclusion

Executing strong, quality SEO on a brand’s website and digital properties is always going to be advantageous to that brand and its marketing attempts.

It’s thinking about a “new age” marketing technique, but it’s censorious to a brand’s web existence in this day and age, especially as available data and rivalling opposing side continue to increase and get bigger.

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[asktheriftwalkers]

Chronicle; 3 - Lost and Found

Drip.... Drip.... Drip....

The thief twitched with each drop. He had found a bowl to place under the leak in the roof, but he was quickly becoming impossibly annoyed with this safehouse. He could tune out bombs, gunfire, club music, and loud neighbors, but a constant drip- now that just got on his nerves. 

Eventually, he crawled up into the attic to try and find the source. Once one hung around Jace enough, they tended to pick up a few things about home improvement and repairs. Shining a flashlight around the attic as he crawled over the rafters, he grumbled irritably at a raindrop hitting his nose. 

Ishani had become a strange commonality to his life recently. The thief didn’t know what to think of her, but the more times he’d spoken to her, he was convinced she wasn’t crazy. No, in fact, she made a certain degree of sense, especially when it came to the Rift. It wasn’t that Iolar minded differences of opinion, but most people tended to be rather irritating to debate with. If they couldn’t keep up with him, he tended to walk away rather than try to teach them enough to be able to discuss the opinion. But Ishani....

Well, his fellow Rift Walker was intelligent. When he challenged her viewpoints on the Rift, on the shadows, she could back them up. She acknowledged the danger of the Rift, but seemed to be able to use it more- effortlessly than him. Even still, she seemed more interested in her research than anything else. He left her to it, and the few times he’d visited her, he found it interesting to glance over her notes and the artifacts she’d recovered. 

The ruins she had sketched out in her journals interested him, old buildings and structures that had long since started to deteriorate in the Rift. He couldn’t see a full culture, no, but he could see that- people used to use the Rift a lot more frequently than they did currently. The original Rift Walkers had to be more- sturdy than their modern counterparts. More able to withstand the Rift. 

‘Or the Rift changed.’ Ishani had pointed out during one of their phone calls.

He didn’t have a response at the moment to that statement. Of course things changed, but the Rift seemed to be immutable since he’d known it. Yet again, the Rift seemed to be around for many millennia. Fifteen years was nothing compared to thousands of years.

Iolar could see the wisdom in some of what she said, but other things just seemed like youthful indiscretions. She had had the Rift for about as long as him, but she was younger. Had more optimism than he did about the true nature of the Rift. He hadn’t mentioned the reasons why he hated the Rift, why he believed it a danger. No, some things were a bit too personal to share with someone he’d known for only a handful of weeks.

The memories still visited him in his sleep some days. He would deny it if anyone questioned him. He would blame the cold sweat at his brow on a too warm room, or the yells or whimpers on anything he could. Some days, he could still see the light in those eyes disappear, replaced by a manic haze. Those eyes he knew so well, the warm brown eyes that once comforted him when he’d had nightmares. Now those eyes were the source of his night terrors. 

Shaking off the cold feeling, Iolar spotted a few places in the roof that needed to be patched up. He didn’t have the supplies down in the safehouse, but he had spotted a hardware store a few blocks away. 

It would be good to get out for a bit, despite the rain.

Iolar sighed, crawling down to get out of the attic as thunder rolled outside. He pulled on a coat, gathering what he needed, including an umbrella. As he was about to step out of the safehouse, he felt his phone vibrate with a call. He blinked, pulling it out to glance at the caller ID. Chris? What was he doing calling?

Answering it, he pressed his phone to his ear as he slipped out of the door, closing it behind him. “A call, not a text? Is everything alright?” He waited for the familiar taps on the other end of the line, one for yes or two for no.

“Everything’s alright, Iolar. I just thought to test this out.” An electronic voice greeted him instead, a voice synthesizer of sorts. Iolar blinked in surprise as he opened his umbrella. “And before you ask, the sky is clear. It’s me.”

Iolar couldn’t help a faint smile, knowing no one would see it. “... So did you program the synthesizer, or find it?”

“A bit of both. I borrowed a bit of code from a classmate, but personalized it.” Chris responded. “But I was wanting to talk to you. We haven’t spoken much since the new Rift Walker came on scene. How have you been?”

“I’m good, Chris. Ishani is- challenging, but she does have a lot of good information.” He stepped out into the rain, thankful it wasn’t too windy. “But it is a bit stormy out, are you sure you want to talk now?”

“I’m fine for now. Does she need a glove?”

Iolar thought for a moment, furrowing his brow. “I... haven’t asked her yet. Is that an offer?”

The sound of shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line, before a meow sounded. The thief could only imagine the sort of trouble the once-stray kitten Chris had adopted was getting into. Rasmus liked to mess with his gadgets, but Chris still did adore the fleabag. The electronic voice finally sounded again. “Sorry, that was Rasmus. It is an offer, actually. But I’d have to meet her, or have you take detailed hand measurements and style requests. Want to learn glovemaking?”

“If it means keeping you safe, I’ll manage. Your mother will have my hide if you get hurt.” Iolar feared few people, but Cameron spoke volumes to how terrifying a mother could get when her child was threatened. “I’ll ask her. Ishani seems to deal with the gauntlet better than I do, but she still may like one of your gloves.”

“I do try to make them good quality.” 

“Chris, they’re the best. There aren’t many designs that can handle the edges of the gauntlet and still look somewhat decent. You improve with each design. That goes for your tech as well.” 

There was a brief silence over the line, before the voice sounded again. “... Thank you, Iolar. Midterms got me a bit down recently.”

“If you need more time off, I can-.”

“No, I’m fine, Iolar. Besides... who else will make sure everyone gets home safe? Don’t worry too much.”

Iolar rolled his eyes. “... Can’t help-... it.” He trailed off as a noise caught his attention. He slowed his pace to a stop, turning toward an alley. “... Chris, I’ll call you back later.” 

“Do you need me to contact Jace or Eva?”

“I can handle it.” He hung up, stashing his phone and listening closely.

A yelp, followed by voices. Two sets. One seemed almost incoherent, the other was- panicked. Fearful. 

“Pl-please, d-don’t come near me!” 

“Like-... like us. Like us. Shadows, shadows call.” 

Iolar tensed. 

Memories came back, of a night fifteen years prior in his life. The night it all truly began. That man- he spoke such similar words. His tone was such a similar pitch, tone, everything. It was almost identical. Another- Rift Walker. And the other voice-.

He closed his umbrella, sprinting into the alleyway. Rain hit his face and his feet splashed in a few dirty puddles, but he was focused on only one thing. 

A boy was pinned against the wall of the alleyway, struggling against an older man. The man’s eyes were wild, crazed, and he lashed out against the boy with one hand, something metallic glinting off it. Iolar recognized it immediately as a gauntlet. The boy shoved against the man, but he was tackled to the ground. The man lashed out suddenly, shouting. The shout nearly drowned out the yell of pain from the boy. 

Iolar closed in on them rapidly, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him off of the boy. He threw the man against the wall, clasping his hands around his closed umbrella to offer some form of visible deterrent. 

The man jolted when he hit the wall, looking up sharply at Iolar with those same wild eyes. The thief couldn’t resist a chill that went up his spine. All of a sudden, he felt like he was a teenager again, on that night. But he shoved the feeling aside, steeling himself. No, he was no defenseless kid anymore. He tightened his grip on the umbrella as the man lunged for him.

The gauntlet lashed out and slashed through the fabric of the umbrella effortlessly, but Iolar used the momentum the man had to jab at him. He stunned him with a jab to the throat, before sweeping his umbrella to rap at his knees. The man was forced to kneel, and Iolar hit him upside the head, hard. The man fell to the ground, eyes open as he stared up at Iolar blankly.

His mind was gone, that much Iolar knew.

Just as Iolar was about to move to check on the boy, the man jolted. Iolar jumped back a bit as he lunged for him again, a crazed smile at his lips and a darkness at the edge of his eyes. Iolar could see a shadow surrounding his soul in the Rift, the colors of his soul obscured.

Possession, what next?

Iolar gritted his teeth, before tossing aside his umbrella and lunging for the man. He was gone, the thief reminded himself as he gripped the man’s hair. He was already dead. The man clawed at his arm, the sparking pain barely registering in the moment. Iolar forced himself not to think about what he did as he slammed the man’s head sharply into the concrete.

He finally let the man’s head go, closing his eyes for a moment to pull himself together. A whimper brought him back to the present.

The thief opened his eyes. The boy. He looked to the small form of the teenaged boy, curled up tightly in the fetal position and whimpering from pain. Blood glinted off his face and hands.

Iolar stood, walking over cautiously and kneeling beside the boy. He had a curly mop of black hair, slowly getting matted by blood. His dark skin had wet blood all over it. The thief hesitated, but rested a hand at the boy’s shoulder. The boy froze, gasping in anticipation of pain. But he slowly unwound as no pain came.

“... W-who are you?” He whispered.

The thief leaned down, keeping his hand where it was. There were cuts over his eyes from the man’s gauntlet. Just like- his own. Just like Ishani’s. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “... I’m a friend. My name is Iolar. I need to take a look at your eyes, can you move?”

“What a-a-abo-ut-...?”

“The man has been taken care of. You’re safe.”

The boy whimpered again, but slowly nodded. He shifted his head so his face was more visible. Iolar looked down at him. The cuts bled profusely, and yes, cut over both eyes. The thief swallowed his own unease.

“... Alright, you need medical attention. Let me bring you back to my place, I can help you there. No questions from doctors, no hospital fees. I’m- familiar with these wounds. You need help.” 

“B-but... I c-can’t-....” The boy whimpered again, his hand grasping at the air desperately. It finally found purchase on his vest, gripping there tightly. “... I- I have t-to get- get back.”

Get back? Back where? What was so important that he would disregard such a serious injury? 

“Kid, I don’t know where you need to go, but you’re bleeding. A lot. You need the bleeding to stop before you do anything, and I can’t do that here.” Iolar paused, before resting a hand on the boy’s hand, staring down at him. Something- something about him rang familiar, but-. “... I can carry you back to my house. It’s not far.”

The boy didn’t respond verbally, but a choked sob escaped him at the pain. He slowly nodded, shifting faintly closer to Iolar. The thief sighed softly in exasperation, but moved to slip his hands under the boy. He pulled him close to his chest, standing. He was- lighter than Iolar expected, but yet again, he seemed rather small. He couldn’t be older than about sixteen, but even for that age, he was- thin. Small. 

Iolar tightened his grip on the boy, leaving the alleyway at a fast, but steady pace. 

He had to contact Ishani, but first- he had to get back home. The boy desperately needed medical attention, and the amount of blood he had already lost was alarming, to say the least. 

[greatreviewreview]

Full Spectrum LED Grow Lights: The Truth You Need to Know

Many LED lighting suppliers will say that full-spectrum LED grow lights are the best option for growing plants because they mimic the natural light from the sun. The argument goes:

“Plants have grown under sunlight for millions of years. Why would we want to change what mother nature knows is best?”

Well, we want to let you know that there is no such thing as a full-spectrum LED grow light.

There, we said it.

But before we get a flood of messages from concerned growers wondering what all the confusion is about, let’s first uncover what full spectrum means. Then we’ll let you in on the truth about full-spectrum LED grow lights so you can make the best grow light choice for your facility.

What is a Full-Spectrum LED Grow Light?

A full-spectrum LED grow light is simply a marketing term that implies that your grow light closely resembles light from the sun. This marketing term comes from the concept of “full-spectrum light,” which in recent years has been used to refer to electromagnetic radiation from the UV to infrared wavebands.

The History of the Full-Spectrum LED Grow Light

The full-spectrum commercial LED grow light is the newest evolution of an already confusing term. Originally, full-spectrum light described the only real full-spectrum light source, the sun.

Over time, the term began to take on other characteristics of sunlight. The commercial lighting industry began using the name “full-spectrum” to sell lights that produced a Color Rendering Index (CRI) over 90. Humans perceive colors more accurately under light sources with a CRI over 90, much like how we see colors in our natural world under daylight. This was a beneficial feature for human environments such as offices, outdoor spaces, and others.

With the advent of horticultural lighting, companies once again began to borrow the term. Only this time, they claimed that full-spectrum LEDs could reproduce the effects of sunlight for plants.

Thus, the full-spectrum LED grow light was born. Unfortunately, lighting for plants is not quite that simple.

Problems with Full-Spectrum LED Grow Lights

There are many issues with the concept of full-spectrum LED grow lights. For starters, just because you name something, doesn’t make it true. This rhetoric may have made sense for lighting designers interested in selling lights so humans could see, but plants require light to feed, grow, and live.

There are three major problems when talking about full-spectrum grow lights:

Full-Spectrum Grow Lights Aren’t Optimized for Plants

Full-Spectrum Grow Lights Don’t Include the Full Solar Spectrum

Full-Spectrum Grow Lights Are Not Dynamic Like the Sun

We’ll briefly look at these problems with full-spectrum grow lights one-by-one, so you can understand how deep the roots of this problem run:

1. Full-Spectrum Grow Lights Aren’t Optimized for Plants

A major problem with many full spectrum vertical grow light is that they are designed to give the appearance of daylight without being custom-tailored for rigorous plant growth.

It’s the reason why we at LumiGrow coined the phrase, “PAR is for plants and Lumens are for humans.” Not all wavelengths of light are optimal for photosynthesis. Plants photosynthesize electromagnetic radiation in the 400 to 700 nanometer range, known as Photosynthetically Active Radiation or PAR. So, plants don’t care how bright your light fixture appears to you.

Still, most full-spectrum lighting companies build fixtures with this visual appeal in mind.

When you hear that the diodes in your full spectrum grow light are 3,000k to 4,500k, or 5,000k+, this degree of Kelvin (K) refers to how “cool” or “warm” your light is in appearance.

Our understanding of plant photobiology has come a long way. We understand much more about plants than to be using human lighting metrics to design our grow lights.

Our goal as growers is to improve the lighting characteristics most important for plant growth. This means not only getting enough PAR light, but also the right mix of light spectra, which brings us to problem #2.

The thinking behind many full spectrum LED grow lights on the market is that by creating a spectral distribution similar to sunlight, your plants will grow well. A decent theory, except that full spectrum grow lights are not actually similar to the sun.

We can see below that the sun’s radiation includes much more than the visible or PAR wavebands.

Sunlight itself is complex, and many scientists are still working to understand it today. You can see that sunlight also contains ultraviolet (UV) and infrared light (as well as x-rays, radio waves, and others, but we’ll leave those alone for now).

Although PAR is the most important light for photosynthesis, plants still respond to radiation outside of the PAR spectrum. For instance, UV light elicits protective compounds in plants similar to the way humans become tanned in the presence of UV.

Plants also use a type of infrared light called “far-red light” to induce a shade avoidance response, causing them to stretch and can induce early flowering.

To create a light source that elicits plant response the same way the sun does would be too costly and downright impossible given current grow light technology. Nor would you want to create such a grow light, which takes us to problem #3.

3. Full-Spectrum Grow Lights Are Not Dynamic Like the Sun

Not only would it be too costly to create an actual full spectrum quantum board grow light, but if such a thing even existed, its performance would still not accurately reflect what’s happening in nature.

The sun’s spectrum is in constant flux due to changes in weather or its position in the sky relative to earth. In the graphic above, you can see how sunlight spectra change throughout the day or in different weather conditions.

Because of this phenomenon, it’s best to think about the interaction between sunlight and plants as a continually changing process.

If you hang your full spectrum grow lights in a greenhouse, you will still reap the benefits (and disadvantages) of this natural process from the sun. But if you take those same full-spectrum lights and hang them indoors, they will not behave like the sun.

Photomorphogenic responses by plants are co-regulated, which means that certain expressions of the plant may turn on or off based on the amount of light within one waveband relative to another.

Photosynthesis depends upon the absorption of light by photoreceptors and pigments in the leaves of plants. The most well-known of these pigments is chlorophyll-a, but there are many accessory pigments that also contribute to photosynthesis.

The relative light absorption of chlorophyll pigments as shown in the graph to the right is one of the reasons why red light has become popular among LED grow lights. Not all PAR light contributes to photosynthesis equally, though we now understand that other wavebands of light such as green, do play an important role in this process.

Since photoreceptors in plants also have their own ranges for light absorption, they co-regulate processes that create plants’ form and structure depending on the spectral mix they receive.

For instance, higher ratios of blue light can induce more robust root growth, more favorable plant biochemistry, and a hardier structure. But these effects may not be as pronounced when more red light is introduced.

Thus, the ever-changing spectrum of the sun is constantly signaling to plants to change their form and structure based on the natural conditions of the environment.

But before you rush and begin moving your grow room outdoors, let’s consider why plants don’t need the full spectrum of sunlight. For starters, plants don’t need UV or infrared light to live. Also, in a controlled environment, plants are given ideal conditions to grow in and often don’t need to compete with other species to live.

Plants only require light in the 400 to 700-nanometer range to photosynthesize. So, you’ll want to choose a grow light that produces your desired results, most often higher yields and better quality for your plants.

What is the Best Light Spectrum for Plant Growth?

By now you must be wondering:

“If I can’t mimic sunlight, then what light spectrum should I use?”. The answer is both simple and quite complex.

Plants only require PAR light for photosynthesis. So, if your grow light is optimized within the PAR spectrum, you’re going to get the most bang for your buck when it comes to minimizing electrical costs while maximizing plant health.

Beyond PAR, it’s important to choose a light spectrum that’s:

best for the environment you’re growing in (greenhouse or indoors)

tailored to your plant’s growth phase (propagation, vegetative, flowering, or finishing)

or specific to the cultivar being grown

Full Spectrum LED Grow Lights vs. Other Grow Light Options

It should be clear by now that there are no real standards around full samsung lm301b grow light. Full-spectrum is simply a term used to sell you a simple idea.

Although you cannot mimic sunlight, you can use light spectrum to your advantage.

Luckily, there are many grow lights available with designs intended to do just that. So, let’s uncover your options so you can pick the best grow light for your cultivation.

Narrow Spectrum LED Grow Lights

Narrow-spectrum LED grow lights use a higher ratio of narrow-band LEDs. These grow lights most often have a pink or purplish hue since they are optimized for the blue and red PAR wavebands.

These types of pink grow lights have been popular since the early days of LEDs for horticulture. Though this doesn’t mean they are outdated by any means.

In greenhouse environments a narrow spectrum is almost always desired. The sun already fills out a full spectrum, so it makes sense to put most of your energy into wavelengths that are most optimal for photosynthesis.

Also, because of the added efficiency of red diodes versus other colors, you will get more bang for your buck when it comes to energy efficiency.

Broad-Spectrum LED Grow Lights

Broad-spectrum LED grow lights have a higher ratio of broad-band LEDs. These lights are white in appearance, though there are no actual white wavelengths. The white hue is a mix of blue, red, and green wavebands.

These grow lights also don’t claim to mimic the sun, but they will effectively replace the sun to drive high yields and premium quality in any environment.

Our broad-spectrum has been enriched with red and blue peaks to drive robust photosynthesis and plant structure while emphasizing the green waveband to be versatile with any crop type or cultivation environment.

Recommended for indoor environments, except in specialized cases where narrow-band lighting is preferred.

Adjustable Spectrum LED Grow Lights

These modern LED grow lights allow for precision control of your plants. By adjusting your grow light spectrum wirelessly, it’s possible to speed up flowering times, improve your plant’s biochemistry, or customize your plants’ structure to root better and be more easily managed.

[patrononfire]

Hard industries to learn but with moat

Chemicals

Healthcare

Financial Institutions

https://ftalphaville.ft.com/2017/01/26/2177854/the-curious-case-of-constellation-health-and-blackstones-former-top-deal-maker/

I would say you want to find industries where there is a lot of alpha available. Energy, insurance (financials in general), REITs are all very macro oriented. They depend on commodity prices and the yield curve.

I think that tech is a phenomenal choice right now. There is so much happening as we embrace the digital world. If you take a couple of months to dig deeply into AMZN, GOOGL, FB, AAPL and MSFT, you will have an overview of where society is going. Some will say that it is difficult to have a differentiated view on such well-covered companies. That may have some truth to it (although I find that there is still a decent amount of skepticism out there), but these companies spend a combined $50B+ on capex and a similar amount on COS.

Find the datacenter beneficiaries, the component suppliers, the content purveyors, whatever. There is so much emanating from the wakes of these five companies.

My votes are industrials and healthcare. You'll learn to do actual primary research, and learn how to model fixed/variable costs properly. As implausible as it sounds, those are two skills that genuinely differentiate you as an analyst. Healthcare also teaches you how to trade/invest around news flow.

Generalist analysts frequently get burned in these sectors ('industrials look cheap' - end up buying at the peak of the cycle / 'healthcare is simple' - end up buying Valeant). This increases the value of specialists.

Tech is fun, but most tech, esp. the consumer-facing stuff is just guessing TAM , penetration rates, ARPU, etc. Very difficult to build repeatable edge. Let's say you 'estimated' FB's growth correctly in the past - how does that make you a better investor in TWTR or SNAP in the future?

I will add a slightly contrarian perspective/ insight: you also want to choose a sector where you will be differentiated and competition will be relatively limited.

Tech is incredibly crowded because it is the 'obvious' choice. The products are highly visible in popular culture and the space is constantly evolving. The downside is that every schmuck thinks they can have a differentiated understanding of FANG (or is willing to try).

Add to that the fact that much of internet/ growth tech requires limited 'deep' analysis and is 'finger in the air' 'secular growth vs. secular decliner' stuff. While a lot of industrials are 'gdp +/- growth' and you focus on the rest of the model, a lot of growth tech is largely about getting the revenue growth rate correct. This kind of directional guesswork is relatively easy to do (though almost impossible to be particularly accurate at), attracting a lot of people that aren't really about that modelling stuff.

What sectors aren't easily crowded by lazy 'generalist' schmucks? Financials, healthcare, and energy - all require some significant domain expertise.

Overall though, I think I would put my vote on industrial. It's the best of both worlds - a big space that has a lot of things you interact with / understand intuitively (cars, trains, planes, houses, furniture). However, it also involves some domain knowledge asnd some serious analysis below the top line (i.e. cost structures, incremental margins and returns, etc).

Someone above also said 'try to be a generalist as long as possible.' This sounds like a good idea, but often just results in you being not quite as smart as the reserve investor across a number of fields. Its harder to pull off, but I might recommend trying to spend time specializing across multiple sectors (i.e. make at least 1 or 2 sector moves in your career)

The commentary from below on tech vs. industrials isn't as simple/complicated as people believe. 

Tech is incredibly varied

Semiconductors, for example, are very similar to industrials in they are cyclical businesses with GDP+- end demand markets and very detailed focus on incremental margins, fixed/variable costs and inventory accounting. 

Outside of NVDA and AMD most semis are not pie in the sky revenue growth models that are based on some intangible addressable market in the future. 

Then you have software. Do you know why half of software trades at infinite earnings multiples? It's because they basically represent NPVs of recurring revenue streams and the best companies can reinvest 100% of their proceeds to get additional revenue. 

Software is basically a series of present value equations based on growth, churn, pricing and incremental/decremental margins from that pricing. Generalists investors thus get destroyed in software if they are buying/shorting based on multiples on their models.

Then look at internet. 

Amazon is a capex intensive businesses where there is a ton of modeling you can do on the incremental margins and capacity utilization on new fulfillment centers (on the retail side) and data centers (on the AWS side). 

The best analysts on AMZN were the ones who can understand the unit economics of new data centers and how to think about the flow through of the various business lines to both gross margins and operating income. 

GOOG has the same dynamic as AMZN. FB and NFLX are a little bit softer but you can definitely do in-depth work on the margin side by looking at the new engineers, cost per new engineer, and think about how the costs can truly grow with revenue based on the limited pool of demand in the valley.

Then on primary research, tech has ton of opportunities. Talk to the software resellers and partners and see how they are doing and what trends they are seeing. Talk to the fabs in Taiwan to gauge end market supply/demand. Talk to the people at AWS reinvent and Strata to figure out what is happening in the database environment.

Tech is a great space and definitely not just about clicks, eyeballs, and buzzwords like AI. Ultimately, the best part about tech is that outside of certain segments like semis, they are predominantly high quality businesses ("compounders" though I hate that phrase as it has become a catch all for everything that is 15x ebitda these days) with long-term growth opportunities. Unlike industrials, you do not need to time a cycle right to do well because over a long enough period of time your stocks typically go up because the intrinsic value of the businesses are growing and the multiples are not high enough where the multiple compression will mask the underlying growth of the businesses over a multi year holding period - as a result you see a ton of the top LT investors have big weightings in tech

My prior criticisms were meant to be somewhat contrarian and focused on a particular set of investors that has really grown in the last ~10 years. These are the 'tech' investors that only do internet/ software (dead giveaway when someone says I do 'tech', but not 'hard tech') and are not particularly thoughtful ('finger in the air' ). Even some of the sharper ones have a hard time avoiding 'VC-ization (where they start thinking of themselves as visionaries instead of analysts). Don't be one of these.

It might be cyclical (pun intended), but I've also realized as I move more into mid-career/ trying to get sector head/ PM jobs that there are a ton of TMT people out there (especially media/telecom/ internet, much less so hardware) and very few industrial. I would honestly expect that to remain the case going forward, with more analysts/ investable name (though not necessarily per unit of market cap) focused on internet and software in particular. From a headcount perspective U.S. public equities is not a growth industry, so this is important to take into account

HFs typically don’t care too much about your industry expertise because, to be frank, you don’t really have any coming out of banking.

Covering several industries is definitely more challenging, regardless of your background, but it often turns out to be better for your career in the long run. You retain optionality over time, you spot themes across spaces, you’re better suited to be a PM, and you get diversification so you can shift your focus over time as industries change in attractiveness.

TMT

Internet

Gaming

Software

Semis

Media

Telecom

[simplyoriginalcharacters]

Acidalia Planitia, Cipher

(Her full name and title is obnoxiously long- Acidalia Planitia e Alestra Harmonia Cipher et Aquilifer- but this is a setting where every name is obnoxiously long, so it doesn’t really matter.)

Background Info: Dalia is from a society called Eleutheria, a future Earth in the middle of a 3-way Cold War between two opposing rebel movements and the old government. They’re also at war with an alien race, but explaining the specifics is just too complicated here. The important bits are that it’s definitely dystopia- genetic mods are ubiquitous in the rich but nearly impossible to attain for the poor unless they’re forcibly given by the government, and every male child is enlisted in the military at birth. Women inherit their mother’s jobs, men fight until they die. Life expectancy is low not only due to the war and frequent deaths of kids barely old enough to fight, but also the complete lack of any safety regulations anywhere, frequent gang violence, and the rebellions killing each other’s members. So, it’s not great for anyone involved.

Name: She mostly just goes by Dalia or Acidalia. In this setting, names work in a weird way- Cipher is her title and Alestra is her mother's name, and they combine to make her full name. 

Gender/Pronouns: She/her, cisgender female. 

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: I suppose if you were to get into specifics, she’d be a heteroromantic asexual, but asexuality is pretty much expected in this society, so she mostly just calls herself straight and is done with it.

Age: 20 years

Birthdate: They don’t use normal Earth time, so it’s not something I really thought about. Birthdays aren't terribly important events anyway in this world- the majority don’t even know theirs.

Occupation: As her title says, she’s a Cipher. It’s kind of like a scientist who specializes in human DNA and genetic modification- a very, very wealthy and over-glorified scientist. Because the ability to literally manipulate thousands of other’s biology at will makes people rightfully scared of you, the Ciphers are the top caste in the system and wield immense power. The position is hereditary and has existed for centuries, and Dalia’s been studying it for years. However, she’s also an important figure in a revolutionary movement- her brother, a child soldier whose existence she wasn’t supposed to know of, was the one who brought her into the whole thing by showing her the injustice of how he and others were being treated. She has since become a very important figurehead (it’s not out of the ordinary; life expectancy is just so short a 20-year-old leader is nowhere near unheard of.)

Height: Tall; the upper class mostly is due to genetic mods.

Build: Average. 

Skin Tone: Olive.

Hair: It changes pretty often- unnatural hair colors are a symbol of wealth due to, again, genetic mods. It changes from orange to turquoise (neither of which is flattering) and then, once she stops having such easy access to luxuries due to war, it turns its natural black.

Eyes: Naturally brown. They used to be pink, but she hated them and thought they were creepy. 

Identifying Marks: She always wears white (color-coded castes) and usually copious amounts of jewelry. The blue hair was a pretty big identifying mark, but otherwise she’s not particularly recognizable to outsiders who haven’t seen her face on propaganda before. She does have a long scar up her side and one in her inner thigh (she got stabbed… long story) but it’s not usually visible to anyone.

Appearance: On propoganda, she’s usually portrayed as an almost goddess-like figure, but in actuality, she’s a lot more normal. She’s still graceful and elegant- highest caste- but also a lot more unsure of herself and blunt in person. She’s beautiful by the standards of the society she lives in, but pretty in an almost fake, uncanny-valley-like way (also due to genetic mods…) and very unapproachable seeming.

Personality: She lives kind of a double life- she has to act like the stereotypical, classist Cipher society expects of her in public, but also the fiery Revolutionary leader the people under her need to see. She’s been raised to be a ruler and a leader, but has come to see her citizens as her responsibility and something akin to her children instead of a group of idiots who are below her. She’s very protective of her younger siblings- the protectiveness for her brother, a child soldier, is what drove her to join a rebellion in the first place- and very quick to blame herself for anything bad that happens to them. She’s taken the message of “a government exists to protect its people” and applied it to herself, and she would do absolutely anything for her cause. She doesn’t consider herself inherently better than the people she’s leading, but does see herself as responsible for them and making their situation better, because it’s her family that caused all this suffering in the first place- and, as a Cipher, she’s one of the only people powerful enough to make a change. However, her self-sacrificial attitude and her unapproachable appearance make it hard for her to make friends with anyone, and there’s a certain degree of disconnect between her and the rest of the Revolution.

Motivations: To fix the mess her family started centuries ago- a three-way civil war, a war with an alien species, mass poverty, et cetera. Also to protect her younger siblings. (This goes horribly wrong, but she tried.)

Current Goal: To stop mass rioting that’s broken out as the civil war came to a head.

Life Goal: To restore a democratic government to the planet, or at least set up some scenario where life is better for her people. Best Quality: Classy, elegant, smart, and a good liar. Excellent at democracy and diplomacy, and can make incredibly powerful speeches. Her words can start- or end- wars. Inspiring to many people. Also, from years of programming DNA and studying past civilizations, she has an incredibly massive knowledge of biology and history.

Worst Quality: Can be patronizing when she acts like everyone else is her responsibility to take care of. Very unapproachable and bad at having meaningful social relationships. Very guilty about her family’s past and what happened to her siblings, whom she failed to protect. (Her little sister joined an opposing movement and her brother was murdered in an attempt to help Dalia. It didn’t work out for either side.) Blames herself for everything and can be a huge drag to other people- trying to talk to someone who’s heaped all of your own  issues onto her guilt is never fun.

Fears: Not being able to protect her civilization is a main one. She’s also terrified of coming face to face with the sister who betrayed her again- not because she’s afraid of being hurt, but because she’s afraid of having to hurt her sister. There’s also a soldier called TB-2116, a leader of an opposing rebellion and eugenics movement- he’s tried to kill her, is implied to have murdered her brother, and just generally unnerves her.

Hobbies: She likes chess and fashion/hair/makeup; one of her weird skills is finding clothes that are perfect for everything.

Talents: Years of living a double life have made her an excellent liar. She also has a rather pretty voice, and can play some future form of the piano, but rarely gets the chance to. The arts are considered trashy in this society.

Group/Organizational Affiliations: “The Revolution.“ 

Family: A brother, nicknamed Tee from his serial number, whom she isn’t supposed to know about. (The sexes aren’t supposed to mix, and especially not in high society.) A sister, Aleskynn, who isn’t supposed to exist (one daughter rule) and winds up betraying her. And her mother, Alestra, a member of the opposing eugenics movement. 

Best Friends: She was pretty close to Artemis, another Revolutionary member, but Artemis died. Her best friend is Andromeda, who is also another Revolutionary around Dalia’s age. She winds up getting pretty close to an alien politician named Raeilya, and becomes sort of a mentor to Lyra, a 16-year-old Cantator (a profession comparable to “actresses” in ancient Byzantine.) 

Relationship Status: Single and pretty OK with it.

Significant Other: None, right now. Dating and just romance in general aren’t very well-known or important concepts in a society where the sexes have been forbidden to mix and intercaste relationships are looked down upon. 

Other Relationships: Friends-is with a guy named David, a Martian farmer and a Revolutionary. Somewhat close to a slew of people: Athena and Ree, two budding astronomers, Atlas, another Revolutionary, etc. Is part of an intense one-sided rivalry with Cassiopeia, a woman who is just ever-so-slightly less powerful than her, and very bloodthirsty- they used to be friends, but Cass’s increasing hatred and extremism made them break apart. Influential Memory: Watching her grandmother Harmonia’s assassination as a child. Seeing Aleskynn’s birth (well, emergence from an artificial machine, but it’s pretty much the same thing in this world.) Nearly being murdered by TB-2116.

Role Model: Eventually, her late aunt Anya. Also, the mythical Great Elders- people who were said to have saved the world and founded the society thousands of years ago. 

Crush: Not a super huge one, but she thinks David is kind of cute. He’s in a committed relationship with someone else, and has two daughters (he’s 32, but shorter expected lifespans and lack of any sex ed make for young parents) so she knows it’ll never go anywhere and isn't bothered by it. (It’s less of an actual crush and more of an instinctive attraction to practically the first decent, non-family, not far too young or old guy she meets.)

Source of Embarrassment: Her family’s history of genocide, slavery at one point (not technically slavery, but pretty much slavery) and unethical genetic mods furthering the class divide. Her orange hair and pink eyes phase. Propaganda featuring her as a kid, mostly just because it looks absolutely obnoxious and manipulative, which it is.

Source of Pride: She’s an excellent leader and she knows it. She’s incredibly good at getting people to listen to her and empathizing with people who would normally dislike her. She’s also pretty proud of her singing voice, but it’s a talent she never really gets to show (the arts is not a well-respected field, and for a politician to take up painting/singing/dancing is considered rather trashy.)

Backstory: Acidalia was born to a wealthy Cipher woman called Alestra on Mars (thus, her name- calling a girl Acidalia Planitia is like calling a baby Sydney or Paris today.) She watched her grandmother get assassinated when she was 6 years old, which was the first time she realized the extent of the “slight unrest” her mother told her about. She was taught DNA mods, as well as the art of keeping a bunch of people subdued and in constant worship of you, Big Brother style. Her sister was born when she was 7 or 8, which was when she realized her mother's hypocrisy  multiple daughters was strictly banned, yet the Ciphers could do it freely. As a young teen, she met her brother for the first time, and quickly joined the revolution, rising quickly through the ranks due to a combination of her political skills and general knowledge others didn’t have. She there herself entirely into it, working a double life until she was 20. A murder attempt by Cass, TB-2116 and Alestra (complicated reasons) started an all-out civil war, and that’s where the main story begins.

This seems really long, I hope I wasn’t too overzealous. :)

Hello! Thanks for sharing Acidalia with us! Review will be under the cut.

My first question is what point of the war are we at when Acidalia’s story starts? Because you only have a little bit of time to establish the world, I’d like if you could get us right to where your work is about to open as far as her appearance, what she’s doing, etc. You can give us a bit more lead-up in the backstory, but everywhere should be as close to what she’s going to be like at page 1 as possible.

While I like that you’ve taken a lot of consideration into how she appears to others, I don’t know what she actually looks like besides tall and olive-skinned. This would be a good time to set up what the standards of beauty are in your universe. They don’t have to be the same as the beauty conventions of our world, but in a society which seems this heavily genetically modified, I’m sure that the societal conventions of beauty have also been heavily adjusted towards one ideal!

As far as Acidalia’s personality goes, you’ve done a very good job of nailing home the idea of her as a revolution leader. However, I think that you may want to take a little bit more time to describe the personality of her as an individual, rather than as a public figure. All you’ve given me so far in terms of personality is that she is protective and unapproachable. But those are things that people from the outside looking in would probably think. How does Acidalia feel about her position? Does she feel frustrated at times? Scared? Vulnerable? What makes her happy or contented? I feel like there may be more to her than just protective and hard to read. Even when you are telling us about her qualities and goals, try and figure this out from the perspective of Acidalia, who is, I’m assuming, a relatively young woman at the top of her social caste and also the figurehead of the revolution. How does she deal with that kind of pressure from day to day?

You give a very good idea of the people she has surrounding her–but there is a bit of inconsistency here. If all men are supposed to be conscripted into service, then I’m not sure how men like David would be around for her to connect with.

As far as her backstory goes–I feel like this should be longer in comparison to the rest of her profile. From what I know of Acidalia, I’m not sure why just knowing her brother was in the military would be enough for her to run off and join the revolutionaries. Also, you never really go into how her family is directly to blame for the dystopian landscape the world is in now, or how that affects her on a day-to-day basis. If she is working so hard to fight against it, I think we need a bit more information about how the events of her backstory have actually impacted who she is as a person.

Hopefully this is helpful for you moving forward! Please let me know if you have any questions!

- Choco

[ganymedesclock]

Okay so basically Sonic Forces features:

Infinite, a masked, seemingly silent antagonist

and

a new, player-customizable character.

In particular, something I think is really interesting about Infinite is- well, the Sonic series has never been what I would call a model of zoology, but, most of the identifying qualities about characters that we’ve seen so far- muzzle design and eye shape are big ones. But with Infinite, we don’t even know the shape of their eyes- because what’s visible is only the gouges ripped in their mask.

That’s also interesting to me: that mask doesn’t look like something designed for Infinite to wear for kicks. Either they, or someone else, had to tear eyeholes in it for them to be able to see.

It makes me wonder if that mask is... really voluntary.

Also: everybody and their dog has pointed out that it’s weird for Shadow to be standing with the antagonists, especially because Forces is in the main gameverse- where Shadow kind of had an entire four-game character arc about how he’s never going to let himself be manipulated for evil again.

But... look at the company he’s keeping, Zavok notwithstanding.

Chaos is a benevolent god. Much like Shadow, its only villainous behavior was induced by despair over an outside event, which Chaos would be unlikely to revisit considering at this point its healed from that.

Metal Sonic? Metal’s a lot more antihero than Shadow or Chaos, guy kinda oscillates on the hero-or-not thing but with Rivals and quite a few other games, he’s proved quite sympathetic. It makes sense he’d be here because he generally follows Eggman, and Eggman would seem to be the mastermind.

The Sonic series is no master of worldbuilding but usually if they include a character, they come with a pretty decent sense of where that character comes from- so I have to wonder if there’s a reason we’re seeing a rogues’ gallery stocked half-to-three-fourths with sympathetic antihero-at-worst types.

Infinite’s, to coin a phrase, mobianoid- they’re built on the same design as Sonic. With only one real exception (Mephiles) all our mobianoid antagonists have been sympathetic before. Infinite’s name, design, and capabilities also seem to evoke that vaguely godlike angle, which...

Chaos, the Gaias, Solaris, Time Eater... have something in common. They tend to enter the cast hurt, captured, divided, or exploited somehow. And usually, by someone else before Eggman.

Eggman might have encountered Infinite not in a state to fight back, and, in true Eggman fashion, is able to exploit their breathtaking power. After all, having Zavok here, a nod to Lost World- Lost World was the game where Eggman brought a means of controlling the new antagonists to the table and reasserted himself as the final boss.

Even if Infinite might not have a convenient off switch for Sonic, that doesn’t mean they might not have been tethered by someone else, and Eggman’s simply learned how to use that.

But now, where does the player character come into this?

Well, Sega at least likes to try and keep continuity for characters. It’s unlikely they want to keep the custom character around for a whole lot of future games, but also they probably don’t want to kill off the player’s character.

So what’s a way to keep the customization but also subtly give them a specific canon appearance beyond the vaguely Bubsy-looking “model” they’re given in the promotional material?

Remember how I said it’s almost impossible to read most of Infinite’s identifiable traits besides that ethereal mane of wavy hair and their long tail?

What if the player character, in some way, is Infinite.

This could mean a lot of things. The PC could be a manifestation of Infinite operating separately from whatever restraint they’re under, and since “Infinite” and the presence of classic Sonic would suggest some manipulation of time, being in two places at once wouldn’t be hard.

Or somehow, the “Infinite” seen working for Eggman is a fragment of the original, making the PC more or less the “Light Gaia” to Infinite’s “Dark Gaia”. Potentially supported by Infinite’s empty right eye socket- would seem to suggest they’re incomplete somehow. (though as far as we know the PC has both eyes)

It’d be a brilliant way to explain so much, honestly- if the PC is oblivious to and questions obvious things as a way to give tutorials to the player- if Infinite is an entity, like many other deific forces in the Sonic series, that was trapped and exploited, it’s fair to say guy probably doesn’t exactly get out much.

Also, if Infinite is an entity comparable to Mephiles... it could mean that with the mask off they’re don’t really have an appearance. The character customization would be in-universe, Infinite, or just that fragment of Infinite- trying to stuff themselves into a normal person body.

It’s also an easy way to feature the player character in the plot- Eggman would quite possibly be gunning for them- either, trying to complete Infinite, or, since helping godlike forces actualize their power hasn’t ended well for him before, he doesn’t want something around that could potentially undo the handiwork of the side of Infinite he has control over.

Alternative thoughts though:

What if the PC is not actually oblivious to this, or, amnesiac the way Chip was.

Because I feel like that could make for hilarious characterization depending on how much leeway with personality they intend to give the player.

“Whoa, what are those?”

“...Rings? Uh, buddy, you don’t get out much, do you.”

“Wh- HAHA WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT I’M A TOTALLY NORMAL- uh” checks hand, “BOBCAT.”

“...okay dude.”

[artificialqueens]

Brooklyn Nights (Sashea) - Dandee

Summary–Though Sasha comes from privilege, Shea is the only thing she’s ever really wanted.

AN– Lesbian AU! Sasha’s husband is only referred to as Mister Velour, he’s not Johnny, because this is purely a work of fiction, and I have the utmost respect for the queens’ real-life relationships! Songs that inspired this chapter/entire fic- Quit by Cashmere Cat and Brooklyn Nights by Gaga. Anyways. I suck at titles, and writer’s block is a bitch, so this was a struggle. Thanks to dare for holding my hand throughout this process, and for pretty much being Superbeta. P.S. You should all go read her fic.

Sasha pulls her black sleeves down over her knuckles, hugs her knees to her chest, and glances around the empty apartment.

Well, it’s not exactly empty. It’s fully furnished, sure, and there’s a decent amount of what someone would describe as quality artwork hanging from the walls. Yes, there’s a television with surround-sound, and maybe a few Tiffany lamps, and a chaise lounge and a grand piano and alright, okay no, it’s not empty. It is, in fact, far from empty. Sasha’s apartment is far from empty.

But her apartment is person-less.

Mister Velour is gone.

He left like a storm, a whirlwind of shouting over broken cries, a hurricane of scathing accusations and malicious backlash that somehow left the apartment pristine. Everything looks as though it hasn’t been touched, as though Mister Velour had never been there at all. There’s nothing visibly wrong with the picture; he’s taken nothing, but he’s taken everything. The storm is still there, brewing in Sasha’s mind.

She rests her cheek against the back of the couch and gazes at the door. It’s quiet without him.

Peaceful.

Not that he’s a bother. Yes, his constant chatter and clamouring could be a bit much at times, but she always sort of viewed that as his ‘artistic’ side. She has high regard for Mister Velour, through his ins and his outs, despite his flaws and lack-there-ofs. It had made sense to marry and start a business with him. He was a smart match for her; she was beautiful, and he was crazy about her. It had been regarded by all whom she’d considered close to her as a good move, to share her life with him and start a career.

Sasha has tried, throughout her life, to always make good decisions.

So when she sees her phone light up at the end of the coffee table, she can’t help smile at the irony. Shea.

Good decisions. Right.

She could ignore the call– she could be done. She could be the Sasha that she’s supposed to be, the Sasha that everyone wants her to be, and she could sit on the couch and think about all that she’s ruined, wallow in the events arisen and figure out a way to ‘work on things’, as Mr.Velour had so eloquently put it. It wouldn’t be too hard. He would take her back.

She shakes her head at the familiar fluttering in her chest as she reaches to answer.

“Hey.”

A chuckle at the other end.

“Hello, devil I know,” Shea purrs, and Sasha can hear the smile forming on her lips through the phone. “I thought for a minute you weren’t gonna answer.”

Sasha lets out a breath and runs a hand along the back of her neck. “You know I always do.”

A moment passes between them, and Sasha holds the phone closer, as if somehow it will bring Shea to her. She can feel the lump forming in her throat.

“I need to see you,” Shea says quietly.

That’s the thing about Shea. However badly Sasha misses her, Shea misses her more. It’s hard to tell who’s in love with who. If that’s even how it works. Sasha doesn’t know.

Sasha says with a long sigh, “I want to see you too.”

“I’m in the city.”

Sasha’s breath hitches in her throat.

“You– you are?” she asks incredulously, her heart thumping in her ears.

“Yeah,” Shea answers with a short breath of a laugh. “I, uh, I got a couple nights off.”

Sasha can only blink, her mouth agape. It’s been weeks. Weeks. Of all nights, her mistress comes to her city the night her husband leaves her. Divine intervention?

“Sasha?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m sorry.” She breaks from her thoughts. “I just– I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know,” Shea says, and the blaring of traffic behind her grows louder, “I haven’t been here in months.”

Months. Had it been months? Sasha had been to Chicago at least a few weeks ago, but Shea hadn’t been to New York in months? It was difficult to keep track.

“Can you get out tonight?” Shea asks.

Sasha bites her lip. Of course she can, she’s alone, but Shea doesn’t know that. She doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t know, Shea, it’s not– it’s not the best–”

“Please,” Shea cuts her off, and the desperation in her voice melts Sasha right to her core. “Please. I need to see you. Even if it’s only for an hour.”

“An hour?” Sasha raises a brow. “Seriously?”

“Maybe two.”

Sasha knows she’ll be out all night.

“Come on,” Shea pleads, and Sasha can feel herself giving in, just like she always does. “I got some friends of mine at a club off Fourth, and they really wanna meet you.”

“You have friends?” Sasha asks slyly, leaning back against the couch and draping a leg over the armrest.

“Yes, bitch. And I already told them you were coming, so don’t make me look stupid.”

“I would never,” Sasha chuckles lightly, toying with the end of her skirt. “Is it a nice club?”

“What do you think?” Shea says, and Sasha can pretty much see her eyeroll.

“Well, I don’t know,” Sasha trails off, earning a huff of a breath from the other end of the line. She knows she’s just being annoying at this point– of course she’s going to meet Shea wherever the hell she is. Shea could probably call her and tell her to get on a plane and she’d do it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t play with her a bit.

“Look, just get here as soon as you can,” Shea says, and the sounds of the city in the backround grow impossibly louder. “I’ll drop you a pin.”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Sasha says, her last pseudo-protest slipping away from her.

“That’s fine with me,” Shea replies coolly, and Sasha purses her lips as the call ends.

Cheeky bitch.

She sits and clings to the thought of staying home for a moment longer. It’s what she should do. She’s got an early morning, they’ve got a meeting with the bigwigs about publishing; this would definitely be a regret in the morning.

They. Oh God, she’d almost forgotten.

She presses her fingers together just over the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. Of course he’ll be there, he’s CEO of the whole damn company. How could she forget? It was incredible, how easily she forgot about Mister Velour.

Unfair, really.

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. God, this was a shit show. Not only did she have to ‘work on things’, probably file for divorce, but she had a career tied to him. A business. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d built from the ground up was now on the line. All because she had to go and fuck it up. All because she couldn’t cover her tracks.

The screen of her phone lights up. Shea’s pin.

Sasha sighs when she opens Maps. She’s not sure why she even thought Shea would be talking about Fourth in Manhattan. Of course she meant Fourth in Brooklyn. Shea loves Brooklyn. All of her friends live in Brooklyn.

“Would you like me to call a car, Madam?”

Sasha fumbles to catch her phone as it flies from her hands. She whirls around and lets out an exasperated breath when her eyes fall on George, who polishes a glass absentmindedly while looking at her for an answer. His skin is pale and pasty in the lamplight, and the circles under his light blue eyes are dark.

“Jesus, George,” she chuckles, a palm coming to rest delicately over her chest to calm herself. “You scared me. I thought you’d already left.”

“Just finishing things in the kitchen, Madam,” he replies, eyeing her with mild suspicion. “Unless, of course, you wish me to leave.”

“No, no,” Sasha stammers, then rises from the couch. “I mean yes, do whatever you’d like. I don’t mind finishing the rest.”

George frowns a bit, eyeing the glass. Sasha knows he won’t leave without a spotless kitchen. Mister Velour has always run a tight ship, and George often overworked himself, trying to please him. She sighs and walks toward him, and as she gives him a warm smile, she gently takes the glass and pulls it from his hands.

“Go home, dear. Get some sleep.”

Still frowning, George blinks and nods, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Sasha sets the glass on an end table. She pats him on the shoulder before slipping past toward the door, and he calls after her.

“Are you quite sure, Madam, that you wouldn’t like me to call you a car for the night?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m taking the subway.” She moves to do a once-over in the mirror and turns her slim figure to the side, considering a change from her button down and pencil skirt, and it’s all she can do to to keep from rolling her eyes at George’s horrified expression. “And what did I say about listening in on my conversations?”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t help but overhear,” he says warily as he fiddles with his hands, taking a few steps closer to her. “But I must advise against it, Madam. I cannot, in good conscience, let you take the public transport at this time of night.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she assures him, pinning a loose strand of blonde hair back into her neat bun. She frowns at her reflection, tilting her head and worrying her bottom lip; maybe a little too neat? She undoes the pin and lets the curl fall back into her face again. It’ll have to do. No time for dawdling, not with George breathing down her neck.

“I insist, Madam,” he says as Sasha turns to pull her coat from the rack. He swiftly takes it from her and holds it open, yet continues his protests as she slips her arms through. “It isn’t safe for you to walk the streets alone at night. A lady such as yourself-”

“Is perfectly capable of taking the subway,” Sasha finishes for him, fastening the belt of her coat around her waist. “I’ve got protection, don’t worry,” she assures him, and this time she openly rolls her eyes at his look of shock. “Oh calm down, it’s just a bit of pepper spray. I keep it in my purse. Seriously, it’s fine.”

George falters a bit. “Alright, very well then. Shall I at least make arrangements for your departure from… well… wherever you’re going to be?”

Leave it to George to try and keep tabs. Sasha knows this game very well.

“No, I’ll be getting home late,” she says, grabbing her purse off of the hook. “Now I mean it, George. I don’t want you to be here when I get back. I want you home, in bed. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good,” she says with a smile. She leans in to place a quick kiss on his cheek, then turns abruptly on her heel and heads out the door.

******

Sasha can’t help but feel a certain independence, sitting alone amongst strangers. She tries her best to blend in but doesn’t– she’s in her work clothes, white heels, and doesn’t even have a pair of earphones to pull out as a last attempt at looking normal. Not that she could, anyway– her posture is basically chiseled into her spine at this point, so she sits completely upright, one leg crossed over the other, her Chanel bag gripped tightly in front of her. She tries not to be too obvious in her staring at her fellow passengers, but it’s not that kind of busy tonight, the kind of crowded where everyone’s shoulder to shoulder and in each other’s way. It’s not that kind of obstructive, compact space where you take in no detail of the people around you, no, there’s plenty of space on the train tonight, plenty of room for people to watch one another, to judge and make assumptions.

There’s a lady with her back turned to Sasha, wearing a short, summery dress, and she’s leaning against the pole. Actually, she’s leaning so fiercely that the pole has begun to slip in between her ass cheeks, and it’s spreading them unnaturally far apart, and Sasha’s doing her best to look away, but the thought of sanitation is making her inwardly cringe.

Then there are a few kids further down doing flips in the hopes of making some kind of something, whether it’s cash or just being noticed. Sasha’s admittedly a bit more entertained than her fellow passengers, who only seem happy to avoid a kick in the face, and she cranes her neck a bit to see past parted-ass lady. One of the kids seems to be rapping, or singing, but it’s almost impossible to hear over the guy on the phone next to her.

She winces as he raises his voice, and she can’t help but imagine the person on the other end of the line as female. He’s angry about something– he barely lets her get a breath in, much less a word. He barely takes a breath for himself, and his face turns red and a vein pops out of his forehead as he continues to yell about something not getting done, about being lied to, and it all starts sounding too familiar to Sasha. His eyes randomly meet hers and she jumps a bit, peeling her eyes away and looking at her hands. Thankfully, she feels the inertial pull as the train slows to a stop, and she’s somehow one of the first to hurry out of the sliding doors.

It’s a cold, rainy night, and Sasha flips the collar of her coat upward to cover her neck, inwardly cursing herself for rushing out without a scarf. Her heels click against the wet pavement as she makes her way down the street, and she suddenly can’t stop thinking about Mister Velour. How angry he was, how despairing his voice sounded as it reverberated through their home, bouncing off the marble pillars in the hall. The way he’d paced in front of her while she’d sat on the couch, unable to offer him any words of comfort.

He stopped his movements for a moment, a fist coming to press hard against his mouth. He looked at her with such abandon, such intensity that he was hardly recognizable.

”Do you love her?”

Sasha blinked for a moment, and cast her eyes downward. Her breathing grew shallow as she thumbed the end of her skirt, unable to speak.

“Sasha?”

“Sasha!”

That deep, velvety voice pulls her from her thoughts. Sasha snaps her head up and there she is, in all of her street-walker glory– Shea, in a bright pink coat and a next-to-nothing leotard underneath, with neon boots that go all the way up to her armpits and a headband to match. Her sleek black hair sways behind her as she dashes across the street toward Sasha, and Sasha doesn’t even know she’s running until she meets her in the middle.

Sasha forgets everything when she’s circled tightly in Shea’s arms. Her eyes fall shut, her eyebrows scrunch together and she hides the rest of her face in Shea’s ostrich-feathered coat, and Shea’s arms are firm around her shoulders as they cling to each other, swaying like fools in the middle of the street.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Shea murmurs into her hair, and Sasha’s hands try to pull her closer, her fingers splaying across Shea’s back. She says nothing, but Shea knows. Shea always knows.

Shea tilts her head and brings Sasha’s face up to meet hers with the tip of her finger, and their eyes lock, blue meeting brown. Suddenly Shea’s face falls, and her eyes begin to search Sasha’s.

“Hey, are you– are you okay?”

Sasha nods and her eyes cast downward, but Shea’s hand catches her cheek and coaxes her gaze back upward, her eyes now filled with worry.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” Shea asks, and she turns her palm to brush Sasha’s cheek with the back of her knuckles, then jumps a bit and brings her other hand to the other cheek. “Oh, you’re cold.”

“I’m always cold,” Sasha says quietly.

“Where’s your car? Where’d you park?” Shea pulls back a bit and looks over her shoulder, her eyes darting around for Sasha’s car.

“I don’t have it,” Sasha says, frowning against the brisk wind and pulling the top of her coat tighter. “I took the subway.”

Shea’s eyes bulge. “You took the F?”

She nods.

“Oh, baby, no,” Shea says with a furrowed brow, and places her hands on Sasha’s shoulders. “At this time of night? That’s dangerous.”

Sasha scoffs lightly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do it all the time.”

“That’s different. I’m from Chicago.”

“Well, I’m from Moscow.”

Silence.

“But you’re little,” Shea says softly, then sighs and pulls Sasha back into her arms, resting her chin atop her head. “I just don’t want you to walk by yourself at night. I wish you would’ve said something, I would’ve came and got you.”

Arms still folded, Sasha buries her face into Shea’s neck. They stay like that for a moment.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Shea asks in a soft voice.

“‘m fine,” Sasha mumbles into her neck, then pulls back to look up at her. Shea is always such a beautiful sight, her brown eyes dark next to her glimmering eye makeup, her pouty lips that could turn into a crooked smile in the blink of an eye.

“You sure?” Shea asks again, concern evident in her features.

Sasha nods, holding her gaze. She then admits in a small voice, “I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Shea’s expression softens, and she runs her thumb along Sasha’s cheek. She bends to place a soft kiss to the corner of Sasha’s mouth, and Sasha’s eyes flutter closed as she smiles into Shea’s lips. Her arms glide up to curl around Shea’s neck while she stands on her toes and deepens the kiss, and Shea gives a soft laugh and she’s kissing her back, her hands falling to Sasha’s waist and pulling her closer.

Sasha loves the soft familiarity of it, how easily she fits into Shea’s embrace. It’s so fluid, so simple, really. It’s as if the rest of the world melts away– everything around Sasha seems to dissipate when her lips touch Shea’s.

A car horn blares. Sasha jumps and pulls back to stare into a pair of bright headlights, idling impatiently beside her.

“Get out of the fuckin’ road!” the little bald man leans his head out of the window to shout, and leans on his horn again.

Shea frowns into the headlights for a moment, then smiles curtly and holds a middle finger high in the air. “Fuck off, asshole!”

“Fuck you, lady!” the guy hollers back, and he inches his car closer toward them.

“Oh my God,” Sasha ducks her head out of the light, utterly mortified. Shea only laughs and takes Sasha’s hand, moving them out of the street and onto the sidewalk. The guy rushes past them with a still blaring horn and his middle finger hanging out the window, and Shea, too, holds her finger up until the car turns onto the next street, then turns to Sasha and laughs.

“God, I missed Brooklyn.”

Sasha shakes her head. “You’re insane.”

Shea smiles and takes her bag, looping it through her arm, then laces her fingers with Sasha’s. “Come on, let’s get you warm,” she says as she leads her to the entrance of what looks like a very abandoned building.

“Wait, what are we– is this the club?” Sasha stammers, slowing her pace and pulling against Shea.

“Yeah, come on.” Shea tilts her head toward the door.

“But it’s–” Sasha furrows her brow in confusion, feet rooted to the sidewalk, “–is there anyone here?”

Looking at the entrance, you wouldn’t really think there was. It’s an older, unkept one story building, with dirty pebbled-brick and vine growing up the side. Then there’s this bright red door that looks like it should be leading to a closet or an outdoor bathroom, and that’s where Shea’s trying to take them.

Shea chuckles and grabs Sasha’s other hand, continuing to walk backwards to the door. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Sasha rolls her eyes and reluctantly follows. “I probably shouldn’t.”

Shea stops just shy of the door, a devilish gleam in her eye as she pulls the blonde closer. Her breath tickles Sasha’s ear.

“You probably shouldn’t do a lot of things.”

Sasha says nothing when her gaze meets Shea’s, but Shea doesn’t seem to mind either way, and she pushes the red door open and pulls Sasha inside with her.

“Whoa.”

Sasha’s stunned at the difference– she grips Shea’s hand tightly as she follows her down a long hallway, with black and white floor and red velvet walls, illuminated by lanterns that hang from the ceiling. The walls are littered with glamour shots of people that Sasha’s never seen before, all framed and signed. There’s a guy at the end of the hall standing in front of another door, also painted red, and Sasha can hear the faint beat of a fast-paced song behind it. The guy gives Shea a short nod as they near the door, but eyes Sasha keenly, like he’s not sure she belongs.

“She’s with me,” Shea says coolly, and offers a folded bill that Sasha can’t quite make out between her fingers.

The man takes the bill and pockets it, then touches his finger to his earpiece and mutters something over his shoulder. After a quick “copy that”, he turns his gaze back to Sasha. Giving her a once over, he raises a brow and reaches for the handle of the door.

“Welcome to Red Door, ladies.”

Shea gives Sasha’s hand a reassuring squeeze before leading them through.

The odd music resonates throughout the room, as well as the dull hum of conversation and the faint clinking of glasses. It’s not too crowded– and the black and white tile continues into the bar area, and the walls are still red, still covered in framed black and white photos. There are a few exotic-looking women scattered about the bar, all dressed much more like Shea than Sasha. In fact, it seems like every woman in the room is stunningly beautiful, with legs and ass for days.

“Here, lemme take your coat,” Shea says as she shimmies out of her pink jacket and tosses it over her elbow.

Sasha feels self-conscious as she undoes the belt of her coat. Her eyes roam over Shea’s almost Herculean figure– taught and strapping, yet still feminine against the tight material of her black leotard, from the dip in her waist to the curve of her thighs. Shea’s dressed far more appropriately for this kind of environment than Sasha is, she’s dressed more like almost everyone else in the bar, and Sasha shakes her head as she slips out of her coat.

“I knew I should’ve changed,” she mutters as she hands her coat to Shea, and smoothes the front of her skirt mindfully.

Shea furrows her brow and looks her over. “Why? You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, but I–” Sasha lets out a breath of a laugh, and begins to fumble with the buttons of her shirt. “I don’t really look like I belong here.”

Sasha loosens the top of her button-down and straightens her collar, and when she moves to unbutton the cuff of her sleeve, Shea’s hand comes to gently lay over her wrist. Sasha’s eyes drift upward to meet her gaze, and though Shea speaks firmly, she flashes her that crooked smile.

“You belong anywhere with me.”

With a shy smile, Sasha nods and takes Shea’s hand, following her to the coat check.

[youinmyhoodnowson]

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[stellarspaced]

BASICS

full name: do kyungsoo. sex/gender: cis male. right or left: used to be right-handed, now favors left-hand. age: 30 (international), 31 (korean). height: 172 cm / 5'8″. eye colour: dark brown. hair colour: black, only ever dyed his hair once, and that was in graduate school, it was a reddish wine. distinguishing marks: none visibly noticeable, two faint beauty marks on the back of his neck, a smaller one near his mouth.   paragraph of physical traits: a little bit below SK average height, medium fair skin and does not tan easy at all, wide-set eyes, heavy brows, a straight nose, full lips, could be conceived as handsome, looks years younger than his actual age and often gets mistaken for a student, frequently works out and build currently reflects that, permanent veins visible under the skin on his hands and wrists.  

FAMILY/RELIGION

parents: do kwangsu, nonexistent relationship at best, no longer talks and lee hyeon, still close to. siblings: none. marital status: single. significant other/s: none. children: none. other relatives: none. pets: one cat. friends: touhi. dominic. youngho. neutral: jongin. minwoo. minjae.   dislikes: hyunwoo. sooyoung.  enemies: none. ethnicity: korean. religion: agonistic. beliefs: agnostic atheism, in the sense that he believes it’s impossible to determine if there is a god, but does not deny the possibility nor existence; endorses neither positions. superstitions: will say that he does not believe in the superstitious, but he grew up in a household where both his parents held weight in common beliefs; setting foot on a threshold was a source of bad luck, writing names in red were bad omens. diction/accent: fundamentally articulate, speaks somewhat low and style of speech can be described as reserved, accent is trained decently neutral when speaking chinese or english.

SCHOOL/WORK/HOME

education: graduated early from secondary school – moved from jeju to seoul with his mother for him to attend a prestigious academy, enrolled at kaist for his undergraduate studies, where he took mechanical engineering with an emphasis in aerospace specialization and had a minor in physics, left to graduate school at mit, massachusetts institute of technology. degree(s): dual masters in aerospace engineering and physics. occupation: now mechanical engineering professor at seoul national university, recently transferred from kaist, former aerospace engineer/astronaunt for nasa. occasionally freelance aerospace engineer for the military and private multinational corporations. own or rent: rented. living space: two bedroom apartment complex, upper-middle class ranged and fairly spacious. decor can be described as traditional. colors are earthy and dark, neutral shades such as dark browns, grays, golds, oil paintings on the walls. apartment has a designated library, half has been converted into a space for his diverse and extensive collection in music, records visible on the wall near the windows, collectibles lining shelves. off the library is an an office where he keeps most of his blueprints and designs. organized and neat, he keeps his living spaces quite clean. spacious kitchen, walk-in closets for each bedroom, two bathrooms including the masters, a balcony outside his bedroom overlooks the cityspace; telescope sits out there. work space: his office at the university is quite similar to the one he has at home, if not slightly smaller in size, organized, less cluttered than other colleagues. recently moved in. main mode of transport: ‘15 range rover sport, black.

PSYCHOLOGY

fears: darkness, fire, small spaces and confinements, forgetting himself, losing memories. secrets: inability to self-recognize, inhuman abilities.  iq: 135, considered gifted on most scales. eating habits: eats neat, slowly, never in a rush. has to have water or tea along with his meals. food preferences: somewhat picky with what he eats, has a rich pallid, yet a childish-like taste for sweets. sleeping habits: has a hard time getting to sleep, usually sleeps at most 4 hours a night, however; is never really exhausted and does not like to dwell on this, prone to overthinking, analyzing, mind is constantly racing; if he does not eventually fall asleep, will get up in the middle of the night to finish projects or even run, opting to stay awake until he has to go to work. book preferences: science fiction novels, specifically time-traveling and cyberpunk genres, military-fiction is favored as well. historical novels, classic literature. music preferences: alternative r&b, (fka twigs, the weeknd, frank ocean, janelle monae), contemporary r&b (miguel, jhene aiko, mariah carey). he’s also really into neo-soul music in general, (maxwell, erykah adu, esperanza spalding). independent music favorites include: nell, third line butterfly, jaurim, hyukoh, 10cm) groups or alone: alone, he can operate in a group if he has to; but prefers solace. leader or follower: leader; natural quality allows for him to take charge in situations, often overrunning multiple projects and groups at once. planner or spontaneous: planned, he prefers to have an exact schedule down to the details, adjusts accordingly when unexpected events happen, needs to be constantly be aware. journal: once kept several journals, original purpose was to document occurrences and his daily life in space, much more personal than the reports he was required to do; the journals from his last and final mission were all confiscated. hobbies: singing, culinary arts, exercising. known to get up before dawn to run in parks. stargazing.  how do they relax: calculating, numbers, astronomy, putting his mind to work and analyzing, debates, writing on whiteboards.  what excites them: recognition and awards for his efforts, creativity, putting his mind to work and getting positive end-results, being ahead of his competition. what stresses them: being behind, unknown valuables, unable to recall what he should and when he should. pet peeves: ignorance, useless conversations, has no time for meaningless dialogue and exchanges, prefers to get straight to the point; in other words, not one for small talk, wasted time. prejudices: misconceptions about gender roles and gender prejudice, was once what could be conceived as biphobic. attitudes: pretentious, comes across very aloof and standoffish at times, mostly keeps to himself unless he has to interact, mildly polite and strictly formal when engaging, argumentative as well as overly-opinionated, curious by nature. obsessions: cleanliness, empirical driven due to his background, needs reasoning and for the numbers to add up. addictions: order above all else, control.

OBJECTS KEPT IN

purse/bag: none. wallet: identification and multiple badges, key-passes for clearances, credit cards, spare cash, condoms. fridge: meats, vegetables, bottles of soju, almost always consistently stocked, prefers to cook rather than to dine out; in fact, always liked to cook, medicine cabinet: pain killers, unopened bottles of anxiety medication, expired over the counter insomnia pills, condoms, rubbing alcohol, shaving cream, lube. glove compartment: registration papers, proof of purchase, flashlights. junk drawer: none. briefcase: documents, paperwork, laptop. desk: pens, files, memory cards, books opened with highlighted pages, his work phone on charge, mac air book, planners, a disorganized mess in general, but he knows how to navigate his own chaos.

MISC

halloween costumes: none, never really celebrated the holiday in particular and in the united states, was almost always the guy who showed up to events without costume. talents: innovation, redesigning, thinking outside the box, able to calculate, has a nice singing voice. politics: liberal, traditional in some ideas, but swings hard left on most concepts, opinionated within his views; for equal marriage, pro-choice, etc. flaws: deflects, comes across as callous and distant, has a tendency to be condescending, often ridicules others, prone to cutting himself off completely, argumentative, stubborn.  strengths: critical thinking, listening, complex problem solving abilities, analyzing and evaluating, able to think quick on his feet, known to take reign when he has to; voluntarily takes a leader position, but not against following. able to adapt to most circumstances. drugs/alcohol: casual drinker on the weekends. prized possessions: niclas’ class ring from the airforce academy. passwords: 1927, code for his work phone, the year hisenberg introduced the uncertainty principle; 1989 for his personal phone. various passwords for his laptops that he changes every few weeks, always a string of numbers and letters. time and place:  0100 hrs/1:00 pm kst. gwanak-gu, seoul, south korea. mechanical engineering department, snu. 301.  special places: a bar in boston, old apartment complex in the states, an observation dome in new york city.  special memories: graduating mit, meeting his ex, first trip into space, paying off his family’s debt. 

[dipulb3]

2020 Acura NSX review: The softer side of supercars

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2020-acura-nsx-review-the-softer-side-of-supercars/

2020 Acura NSX review: The softer side of supercars

It’s a wide boi.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Supercars are supposed to miss the forest for the trees. These ragged-edge cars focus so intently on high-speed performance and high-cost trimmings that they’re often tough to truly utilize on a daily basis, relegating them to weekend warriors at best. But not the 2020 Acura NSX. This Japanese scalpel is more than ready to rumble on a backroad, but it carries a softness that gives the car more than enough pliancy to make for a quality grocery-getter, albeit one that’s a bit over equipped for the task.

Like

Ever-present hybrid power

Impressive in daily driving

Never stops being fun

Don’t Like

Mediocre infotainment

Persistent windshield reflections

No Individual mode

Before I even get behind the wheel of the 2020 Acura NSX, I’m hit with that familiar kind of supercar weird-for-the-sake-of-being-weird-ness. On approach, the thin door handles pop out to greet me, which is a fun parlor trick. Thankfully, the doors open in the normal direction, as the NSX has absolutely no problem turning heads without bringing atypical hinges and butterfly doors into the equation.

With interesting angles in every direction, from flying buttresses out back to the aggressive front bumper, the NSX is like most other supercars in that it’s damn near impossible to blend in anywhere. Even beyond the show-off styling, my tester’s $6,000 Valencia Red Pearl paint job isn’t about to let that happen.

First impressions come quickly after sliding past the NSX’s door. Despite the body’s relative position to terra firma, the seating position is a little higher than I expect, giving me a greater feeling of normalcy than I encounter in, say, a McLaren or a Lamborghini. Visibility is quite good in most directions, with loads of forward sight (thanks in part to way-thin A-pillars) and superb blind-spot coverage from the mirrors that sprout from the body like antennae. The view out back is fine, considering there’s an engine a few inches behind me. Be mindful of the sun’s position, though: Too many direct rays from ol’ Sol and the front windshield begins to resemble a cheese grater thanks to serious reflections of the massive speaker grille below. It can be really annoying, especially in spirited driving or slow-speed neighborhoods where children and squirrels are likely to be in the street.

Overall, the NSX’s interior quality feels worth the $150,000+ cost of admission. Soft leather covers most of the dashboard, door panels, center tunnel and steering wheel, and what isn’t made from the smooth stuff is bedecked in carbon fiber (a $2,500 option) and satin aluminum. The small bit of piano black trim on the transmission controls, which should be very familiar to most recent Honda or Acura owners, is the only part of the interior that feels a little low-rent, and only then it’s because of its propensity to accumulate finger grime. The cup holders are small and only attach to a slot on the center console, but you can tuck them into the diminutive glove compartment when not in use. Other storage comes by way of wallet-sized slots in the door panels, a key- (and mask-) sized slot in the center console and a small hinged cubby against the rear firewall that houses the USB port. It’s tight, like many supercars, but there’s still a decent amount of room for my 6-foot frame to get comfortable.

Most mid-engined supercars throw owners a storage bone by way of front and rear trunks. But not the NSX — electric motors and other hardware live under the hood, so the only cargo storage is located aft of the engine. Not only is the trunk small, its proximity to the twin-turbo V6 means whatever goes back there has to be heat-tolerant. Put your bags of ice in the passenger-side footwell.

All of those silly concerns melt away from the second I push the start button. Just behind my head, the 3.5-liter, twin-turbocharged V6 growls itself awake before quickly settling into a quieter idle, something neighbors are bound to appreciate. A push of the Drive button puts the nine-speed dual-clutch transmission to work, which provides just a smidgeon of slip as first gear engages.

In the default Sport mode, the NSX proves to me that it can absolutely function as a daily driver. Despite lacking air or McLaren’s complicated hydraulics, the NSX’s static suspension is surprisingly comfortable, soaking up a wide variety of bumps and humps without unsettling the car or its occupants. The chassis’ inherent stiffness remains obvious, but the ride is far smoother than I went in expecting.

Small issues with the cabin disappear completely once the speedometer starts to rise.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Gear shifts are unobtrusive, and in low-rev situations, the V6 (which produces 500 horsepower and 406 pound-feet of torque on its own) is content to putter along quietly — if it’s even running at all. In Quiet mode, the NSX will use its small battery to operate like any other hybrid, silently hustling along under electric power alone — Sport offers electric-only operation, too, but in more limited quantities. The V6 cuts in and out with little, if any jostling in the cabin. It’s Prius smooth, in a good way.

Twist the mode knob to Sport Plus, and the NSX emits some sort of magic substance that causes me to forget about literally anything that isn’t the car or the road directly ahead of it. I feel the frenetic energy start to rise as the engine dramatically increases its volume at all times, even though it’s a little meh on the tonal front at lower revs. The V6 calls on the help of three electric motors — two up front, one out back — to generate a net 573 hp and 476 lb-ft. As you’d expect, the electric motors absolutely assault me with torque at a moment’s notice, and it’s really evident in tight corners, where the front axle helps pull me through as Continental SportContact performance tires grip the pavement. It’s easy to approach a corner with more speed than expected, but thankfully, it’s also easy to shuffle out the other side. Between those points, optional carbon-ceramic rotors ($10,600!) will scrub speed with both excellent modulation and impressive haste, over and over again. It’s impossible not to have fun in the 2020 NSX.

My only real gripe here is that I wish I could mix and match the modes. I get it, Acura put these modes together to make sure the car exemplifies whatever it’s after, but if I really wanted to daily drive this car, I’d want the engine constantly in Sport Plus with the suspension in Quiet. Why the hell can’t I have that?

You never really hear the NSX’s turbochargers spool up until you really glom on the throttle, then it’s all you’ll hear.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

One thing that Acura has in common with every other supercar manufacturer is its middling-at-best infotainment system. Ripped straight from, oh, every single Honda Civic on the dealership lot, the NSX’s 7-inch head unit packs suction-cupped-Garmin-era graphics, just-OK response time and limited functionality. Apple CarPlay and Android Auto are on offer, which means it’s pretty easy to ignore the standard setup altogether. The motif changes from red to blue depending on vehicle mode, but I kind of wish Acura could have put its own unique spin on this — or at least upgraded the 2020 NSX to the most recent (and prettier) version found on the Odyssey and other large adult Hondas. The gauge cluster is entirely digital, too, and while it’s weird that it’s tilted away from my eyes, it provides me with all the data I could possibly ask for. It’s easy to mess around with, too, thanks to super-simple scrollers on the steering wheel.

As for safety systems, you get… parking sensors. And non-adaptive cruise control. Want anything else? Buy a TLX.

With a starting price of $159,495 after destination, the 2020 Acura NSX is almost competing with two separate classes of high-performance vehicle. On the one side, you have the hardcore non-supercars like the Porsche 911 Turbo, the Mercedes-AMG GT R or, if you don’t need a six-figure window sticker, the mid-engined Chevrolet Corvette, all of which are excellent cars, but all of which lack the “What was that?” emotional appeal of proper supercars. Speaking of which, the NSX is positioned against some big names here, too, like the Audi R8 and, if you want to drop another $30k, the McLaren 570S. Those cars are more along the lines of the NSX, but they’re also a fair bit sharper than the Acura, too.

When a car is engineered with performance at the top of the masthead, comfort has to be put back ­­into it. Sometimes it requires complex components, other times it just doesn’t happen very well. But the 2020 Acura NSX does an excellent job blending daily usability and performance in a way that other supercars don’t. Does it leave a little bit of skidpad rating on the table? Sure. But I’ll be damned if you can find a more entertaining way to commute in comfort.