#it's like i've reached some sacred level

[angeart]

Hai pretty pliz put watermarks on ur art🫶

(I downloaded one of ur drawings and wanted to come back to ur account but it wasnt there so I just spent a good few minutes looking for you. FOUND YOU MUEHEHEEHEHE >:3)

Ps ur art is incredible AAAA

WAHHH THANK YOUU

honestly it didn't even occur to me to sign my art, ever. it just. i didn't think anyone likes it enough for that to be important— 🥺

i'll try to remember to do it next time!

(also yay good job finding me!! :D)

[tu-sugar-mami]

Hi! I'm wondering if you can write how Alcina would react if she found her dobbelgänger? Someone who looks Identical to her and it would probably be one of her maidens. People probably gossip about it too. I want to see Y/N's reaction to it too so like maybe they are together and they see a maiden pass by who looks exactly like Alcina. Lipstick and everything.

(I didn't see any other requests like this so I said why not request this one cause the idea is so interesting)

-Milkie

Hii!! Thank you so much for sending this 🥰 This sounds interesting, yes! I don't think I've read anything like it before and it's an honour you thought of me for this  ✨✨✨ sorry it took me so long, I got carried away and then didn't know how to finish it 😅 although, I don't really know of this is what you had in mind but I went a bit angsty there. Hope you like it! 💖💖

Words: 1800

Tags: angst, a bit of humour, implied feelings, sad stuff, kinds good ending?

_________________________________________

Being Lady Dimitrescu's personal maid is no easy job, especially since the responsibility of bringing her every wish and/or demand could become slightly complicated. There's only so much you can do with your short legs scurrying around in such a grand castle. 

Despite being almost always busy, you do find some time to enjoy a cup or two of that sweet tea you love so much, and love it even more when you share it with your Lady. 

Climbing up the stairs you somehow manage to balance a tray with the needed assortment of ceramics with a teapot full of very hot water on one hand and a quite heavy stack of important documents on the other. Your focus is split between not dropping the platter and reading the stack of papers in your hands trying to find the listing error in the first page (a job usually reserved for one of the daughters) and you find yourself so enthralled by the task that it's only when you reach the hallway that your focus is interrupted by an approaching figure.

Without raising your gaze from the documents, the corner of your eye catches a glimpse of a familiar face. A smile blossoms in your lips at the passing woman, but confusion settles in you. You're sure the Lady is in her study at this time of the day, but you pay it no mind, surely she has a reason to leave her sacred workspace. 

Turning to the left, you ask for a miracle to help you open the door while your hands are occupied. Luckily, being crafty and resourceful was a requirement in the job description, and with a push of your elbow onto the doorknob you enter the Lady's office.

"Oh, there you are. I need those papers transcribed here."

The voice brings you to a halt as your brain catches on. Wait, didn't the Lady just pass by you at the hall? No, surely you're mistaken… 

Quickly turning towards the hall, half of your body peeking out of the still open door, your eyes inspect the now empty hallway in search of an explanation. 

Now that you recall it, the woman in the hallway was strangely at eye level, unlike your Lady, so perhaps she was only a maid you just didn't see correctly.

Well, it's been some stressful days lately, and you suppose your mind is tired. 

Deciding to think nothing of it, you pour the Lady some tea and prepare yourself for the upcoming ache in your hands (the typewriter makes the job easier, but doesn't mean it's less tedious).

It's around late afternoon when you and The Lady find yourselves strolling through the halls in an attempt to dissipate the headache that the stress has caused on the Matriarch. It's also around that late afternoon that you stumble upon her…

A few moments pass by before you do a double take and your hand shoots towards your Lady's skirt in order to stop her from walking away. 

Alcina isn't thrilled, and if it was any other maid she would have already have them paid for their transgression, but as it's almost a custom now, she only rolls her eyes and turns to see what has you so busy that you can't even speak to properly ask her to sto–

As soon as Alcina turns she sees the reason. She sees her.

An exact copy of the great Lady Dimitrescu is busy dusting one of the giant flower pots in the hall.

She is identical, in every way but the height and skin. How did you not notice her before? You're pretty sure you would have seen the close resemblance right away, unless… The daughters are always the ones in charge of 'welcoming' the new batches of maids that come in every month or so, and knowing them, they don't dwell in appearances unless they find one of the morsels to be especially interesting. Perhaps that's why such a sight slipped right by you. 

You wouldn't believe it if the maid wasn't standing right in front of you. 

She had the same high cheekbones and soft jaw as your Lady, that much is evident, but what catches your attention the most is her eyes. That unique and familiar gaze that brings you comfort and reassurance is present in the maid. She looks younger than the Lady for quite a few years, although you wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly how many apart. Still, the resemblance is unique, more like a copy rather than an offspring. It seems impossible and yet…

You look to your left in a quick movement, ready to go back and forward only wanting to compare and see for yourself that your mind isn't playing tricks on you, but you stop as soon as you notice your Lady's face.

Alcina's expression is a shocked one, more than you've ever seen her bear before, but you notice something else within that stare. Her eyes become slightly teary, but despite your efforts you can't decipher what the meaning of the unshed tears is. 

And of course, you can't possibly know the turmoil that brews inside her. 

Right in front of Alcina stands the woman she once was, or more like the one she could have been. A version of her without her humanity stripped away, without the marks of betrayal and hurt, without the lines of experimentations and pain. In front of Alcina stands the woman she once saw in the mirror, like a cruel joke, in all her human fragility and ignorance. Almost as if the universe had one last way to mess with her and mock her.

Within Alcina aches the desire to touch, to feel, to have a close glimpse of what she was before, and yet the unspoken fear of the mirage before her disappearing keeps her hand grounded, and with it her body stays unmoving.

The Lady hears, among other drowning sounds, the judging whispers surrounding you three in the hall. Words from the maids that have huddled up at the corner, watching with harpy eyes the scene unfolding in their unwelcome presence. 

For the first time in years, perhaps decades, Alcina Dimitrescu is at a loss of words. She would have never thought that an image of herself would make her feel so vulnerable, so threatened. And perhaps also for the first time, the powerful Matriarch feels…powerless.

Until your touch on her gloved hand brings her back from her stupor, that is, effectively stopping her from spiraling any further. Your hand, tiny in comparison to hers, is the anchor she needs right now. 

Alcina turns to you, and what she finds in your eyes as you look up at her is nothing but pure adoration, as if you have already decided that she is perfect just as she is right now. Almost as if you've just chosen her out of the other more humane and better versions of herself in front of you and the ones to ever exist. The love and affection that had been so obvious to her before but you always put effort in keeping hidden is now shining through, unstopped and undimmed, and Alcina's unbeating heart for a moment feels full of life again.

 

With your hand now in her gentle grasp, she feels like she can breathe again, and with the newfound strength she dares to invite the maid for a chat over tea.

When the moon is already starting to show her presence above in the skies, after some surprisingly nice talk, something across the coffee table catches Alcina's attention.

Alcina only needs to see the mischievous grin on your lips once to feel another incoming headache. You've been her maid for five years already for goodness' sake, she already knows exactly what you're thinking…

…

…..

The Lady doesn't know how you managed to convince her to do this, but she's waiting with you hidden behind a stone pillar just after summoning her daughters 'urgently'. 

It's not long before three buzzing swarms approach, but instead of her mother waiting they find a woman facing away from them sitting on their mother's usual chair. 

Daniela confusedly sniffs the air, and she finds that her mom's perfume comes from the same direction as the woman, but she can also smell the blood pumping and a heart beating. 

"Who are you?" The youngest asks with her hand already reaching for her sickle. 

"Ah, my daughters! I didn't see you there, lovelies." The maid greets with a higher pitch voice, before turning to the girls. You have to give her some credit, it would be impossible for you to not laugh if you were in her place. "Come here my girls, mama has missed you." 

"Mother!?" Bela and Cassandra ask in unison. Her eyes are wide and they're switching their gaze from the woman to each other. 

Behind the pillar you watch the scene unfold, and your Lady's hand soon covers your mouth to prevent you from letting out a chuckle, although when you look up you can see an amused smile on her lips. 

"What happened?" Daniela asks, gesturing wildly at the woman's body. "You look, good? Less tired maybe, a little tiny bit uh…less um… like this?" She raises her hand above her head and shakes her hand slightly.

"Holy Mother Miranda, is that really you Mama?" Cassandra asks, slowly approaching the maid. 

Alcina lets out a silent chuckle and with a stealth you didn't know her capable of, sneaks behind Daniela, the closest daughter.

"She is most certainly not, darling." 

Not unlike a cat, Daniela screams and jumps almost two meters before dissipating in a cloud of flies, before reforming next to Cassandra, her hand pleases over her chest, and if her heart could still beat it would be frantically hammering against her ribcage.

"Holy sh-"

"Daniela, language!" Bela nudges her sister with her shoulder. 

Your laugh resonates in the room, and Alcina briefly looks at you, her eyes as soft as her smile, before returning to the girls. 

"I can't believe they really fell for it." You walk towards the maid and put a relaxed hand on her shoulder. "Sorry we made you do this, let's go get some lemonade girl, you look a bit pale."

After you leave with the maid in tow, Alcina takes her rightful seat and pours herself a cup of wine.

"How come no one bothered to let me know of this guest? I should hope next time you do take time to greet every new maid properly, girls."  

"We will, Mother." Bela says, taking a step forward from her sisters. 

"I know you will." Alcina says gesturing away with her hand, and after her beloved daughters leave, she's left again to ponder about how just much she fucked up by accepting Miranda's gift…

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You can find the rest of my stories in AO3 as Lenchisus

You're welcome to leave your request!! 💖✨

If you love my work you can support me on Kofi

https://ko-fi.com/lenchisus

[septusuki]

"Opening in five," every compartment opening gets a countdown. A full on announcement, as if it were about to be celebrated. The mech itself is turned off, fully inert, and folded in on itself, but there's still one last problem. "Four." The pilot herself. Incensed with combat stims, and alight with hormones, there's no telling what she'll do once the cockpit peels itself open. Perhaps she'll be frothing at the mouth, violent and furious. "Three." Perhaps she'll be glassy-eyed, screaming and despondent. Perhaps she'll be soaking, sweating and horny. Any choice is as bad as the other — especially for the poor sod who has to deal with it. "Two." The little entourage around the cockpit level their stun-guns, ready to protect the pilot from herself, as soon as she emerges. Something's going to happen, either way; the bodyguards are sure of it. "One."

The key is pressed, and the port goes silent, save for the hissing, clicking hydraulics of the Abbaciss apparatus. Slowly, but surely, the cockpit careens open until one of it's sharper edges clinks against the floor plating politely. Nothing. There is no pilot for a moment. No frenzy of arms, no stink of fluids. The bodyguards lower their weapons, sorely disappointed. One of them is kicked forwards by their compatriots — go check it out. Almost tumbling, Janna stabilizes herself with a hand to the heated hull of the killing machine she's supposed to be guarding. "H-Hello?" She murmurs, lowering her head so she can look up the gloryhole of the much-adorned mecha.

I slither out. Like a sack of sopping meat-hunks, I'm fed onto the floor, feet-first. I lay there, spat out from my sacred safe-space, and onto this chilly, pristine-clean surface. "Uh." I make some kind of noise, as is protocol, to let everyone know that I'm out safely. I'm a pile of bodysuit-plastic leather and lithe skin, but I'm out. Safely.

"U... Uh?" Janna tries to repeat the noise I've made, staring down at the glimmering mess beneath her. I'm soaked with sweat, as is expected, and covered in input bruises. "Abbaciss, are you... Okay?" Realizing that she's not allowed to ask that yet, Janna's spine straightens as she switches into professional mode. "Senior Abaciss, please confirm your condition." She barks out, her eyes no longer looking down at me. The stun guns are gone at least; completely lowered once the bodyguards are assured that I'm not threat.

My modulator clicks into the ON position as I prepare my throttled vocal chords for the stress of speech. "Dees-app-pointed." I grunt, the mechanics doing all the work, as I can barely bring myself to even speak properly. "Dees-at-iss-fied." My mouth is open, but making no real effort to do much at all. I beep through my words, hooking my arms under my thighs and wrenching them in close.

Janna looks to her squad for any kind of answer, and then swings back, rolling her eyes. Dissatisfied. That's a long word, for a doll. "Abbaciss..." She begins, breaking protocol once again, just to reach down and pat the little pilot on the head. There's no reaction. "What's wrong? You completed the mission, all fine. All's green." Just realizing she's volunteered to be a military therapist for a downtrodden doll, Janna just facepalms, and sits down. She might be here for a moment.

"Didn't kill eh-nuff." I murmur, my eyes watching as Janna's face drops down to my level. "Not eff-fish-ently eh-nuff." I squawk, revelling in my own depression. I want to tear this bodysuit off. I want to get back in the shell-frame, and march back out to the killing pastures. I want to sink my nails into something that'll scream. My own body would do.

"But... It was a scout mission, Abbaciss. You didn't need to kill anyone." Janna's head cocks, full of the puppy-energy she was made to put out. "If anything, it's better that you didn't make a mess." She pats me again, rubbing away at my perfectly-shaped hips and trying not to finger or fiddle with any of my tech-inports.

"Should have done more." I respond instantly, as if I have a routine script for this messy kind of conversation. Perhaps I've already run through it a billion times in my computational core. "Much more. Empire isn't safe if I don't kill." My voice lowers, so only Janna can hear. "Forward base isn't safe." Swallowing my dignity, my real voice manages to come out, this time. "Home isn't safe. Friends aren't safe." My body shakes and wracks itself with disappointment as I remind myself just how grievous the imagined failure I've committed is.

"Fuck..." False alarm. Janna can't help but laugh a bit. Her hand rubs my shoulder, and then finds the control handle I have attached to the base of my neck. "You're fucking cute." She's inches from bursting with affection. Fastening her fingers around my control handle, she drags my corpse in close and — and hugs me. "Look. I've got some spare rationmarks. How about some ice cream, Abbaciss?" Trying to straighten her mouth as it does backflips, and twists in loops across her face, Janna quickly finds there's no helping her. She's been bowled over by my accidental display of adoration. There's only one thing she can do; with her right hand lifted up in the one moment, please hardcode, she uses her left arm to bring me in closer, and squeeze me until I make a little peep of satisfaction.

[unwhitewashthebadbatch]

Hello, really appreciate the work you're doing to bring awareness! I was wondering if you have thoughts/resources/suggestions etc. for fic writers who want to portray the clones well. I'm genuinely thinking that adding an author's note might be a good idea, but I'd love to have thoughts on respectfully mentioning the clones' appearance within fic itself. Thank you so much for all you do!

Hi, and thanks!

When it comes to writing, it's sometimes easier to come up with a list of "Dont's" than "Dos". This guide from NaNoWriMo is pretty straight forward!

Of course, there are some caveats: unless this is a modern AU, you can't directly say the clones are Māori because that term doesn't exist in Star Wars. However, this doesn't mean that their features don't! From another character's PoV, you could say they have even brown skin, dark eyes, and dark curly (not coily) hair with broad noses. You can tweak these for your level of prose, such as saying "warm" brown skin or coal-dark eyes/hair--but do NOT use food descriptions, as this is objectifying and dehumanizing. So no "chocolatey" (I have seen this) or anything like that.

Some authors like to code their characters as being from a certain culture, race, or ethnic background. Think of how Temuera Morrison portrayed Boba in The Book of Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, where he proudly put his Māori culture at the forefront of his fight in the latter show. I'm much less versed on the basics of Māori culture and ways of life than I am other cultures, so I personally don't know how to code the clones in the GAR as such. This is where research is important, both in terms of doing your own reading and reaching out to Māori cultural experts if they are willing to explain something.

One thing that I've seen that's quite popular in fics/art is Tā moko, which are the tattoos you may see some Māori with, like this:

However, Tā moko is sacred and, from what I understand, relates specifically to one's ancestors, whakapapa (genealogy, loosely), and rank within society. Non-Māori can use kirituhi. @/tu_edmonds on TikTok/Instagram is a Māori bassist for Alien Weaponry who has Tā moko and also has a video explaining the difference between that and kirituhi. He's also got loads of other good explainers for Māori culture and language.

Physically, don't be scared to make the clones short! Temuera Morrison himself is only 5'7". I don't know why they made the clones six feet. Morrison also has a stockier build, the way a lot of Māori do, so don't be afraid to describe them being bigger and less cut/lean than the 180 lbs they supposedly are in canon (although I refuse to believe that's true because that is incredibly thin).

This might be more than you bargained for, whoops! But these are the basic things I could come up with for describing clones in fics!

There are other ways to support #UnwhitewashTBB, if you like. I've been looking at and supporting @end-otw-racism (highly recommend you support them too!) and people will change the title of their fics or tag there works with #EndOTWRacism, as well as bookmark them/add them to collections? I'm not sure how exactly it works.

But if you or anyone else understands how this works, and your work is explicitly non-racist in nature (and focuses on the clones) I don't see why you can't also tag your work or write an AN that says #UnwhitewashTBB.

Hope this helps!

~ Mod CH

[ghost-proofbaby]

I'm gonna cheat because I don't listen to TS but you know how much I love our pair from Maroon. can you tell us which of her newest songs you most associate with them right now. any tidbits you feel like sharing

^ it's me pleading for special treatment because I love you

abi babe i will always give you infinite special treatment always. however i apologize for how long this is because, uh, this is the couple who i specifically think dominates my brain while listening to TTPD.

i've already covered "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", so that one 100%.

besides that, though...

Down Bad. the entire premise of the song being compared to being abducted by aliens and when you're returned to earth being like "actually i liked it better up there take me back" as a metaphor for love feels very much like when you had a good relationship, something you expected to last forever, and it just gets taken from you. however, to spice things up - i think it works better applied to how eddie feels. the whole 'fuck it if i can't have him' is exactly how he feels as he's completely destroying himself in the aftermath. and just for fun, so you don't necessarily have to listen to the songs if you don't feel like it my love, i'm adding the specific lines from each song that i feel apply the most.

"how dare you think it's romantic, to leave me safe and stranded? 'cause fuck it, i was in love. so fuck you, if i can't have us."

^ it applies to both reader/sugar and eddie. first half feels very her, because he left her behind to not risk exposing her to a life that had begun to decay him. but second half feels very him cause... fuck it, ya know?

So Long, London. this one is about just being sad and mad about the end of a relationship, and that's where both eddie and sugar still are mentally. to build something so sacred up only to watch it be burned down by the other person. sugar is far angrier than eddie, though, since she's not really taken the time to work through how she feels with the end of it all.

"i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. i founded the club she's heard great things about. i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath. i stopped cpr - after all, it's no use."

also.... honorable mentions to the entire goddamn bridge, but specifically "you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?" and "i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place for so long"

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can). it's a bit of a spoiler, and a bit of a reach, but i think it's a good perspective from the others looking in. the media, but also specifically corroded coffin. this really only applies to post break-up them story-wise, too. he's wrecked himself, destroyed all that he was, and sugar is the only one seeming capable of bringing him back to what he once was.

"i can fix him - no, really, i can. and only i can."

loml. i guess what i'm saying is basically every single song where taylor got very vulnerable and terribly sad about the end of an important/long relationship. this one speaks for itself quite a bit because of the theme of the guy saying "you're the love of my life" repeatedly, only to leave. which is exactly what eddie did, in the grand scheme of things. and taking it a step further? the small implications of a breakup and attempt at rekindling? yeah, yeah that's them alright, your honor.

"who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?"

^ literally what they are doing as we speak ^

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. this one i would mostly apply to all of sugar/reader's anger pre-reunion. that anger of a man who simply ghosts you. she didn't let herself feel the 'breakup' much, but she did go through some of the stages of grief - and she got stuck at anger.

"you kicked out stage lights, but you're still performing. and in plain sight, you hid. but you are what you did."

^ all his self-destruction when she sees it at surface level :) just seeing him as doing nothing more than throwing a tantrum :)

this is getting a bit out of hand now, but when it comes to the double album bit, there's even more. i don't want to bore you to death so i'm just going to list those songs but. yeah. this album felt very maroon coded to me. the losing and the anger and the sadness and the clinging to what once was. should've expected it, in all fairness.

from THE ANTHOLOGY, i'd say that 'the black dog', 'chloe or sam or sophia or marcus', 'how did it end?', 'i look in people's windows', 'the prophecy', 'peter', and 'the manuscript' are the ones that fit best for maroon. some are a stretch, some it's solely based off of one line that i couldn't get over, and some i just simply think it's the vibes. a true matter of the illness that is "they're my blurbos so i'll apply whatever song i want to them".

i'm sure we'll see a few of these as chapter titles going forward, including the anthology ones, so that'll probably be when i dig in a little deeper about specific lyrics. or when i post ominous music posts.

anyways if you made it to the end (especially you abi) i love you so fucking much and thank you for enjoying my absolutely insane ted talk i just basically did on how TTPD is very very sugar x eddie coded <3

[snakegorl212006]

Chapter 7 pt 1

I wake up ready for today. Lloyd already left to do what he needed to do. I've decided to slither around until we were all called on to the bridge. I head there myself being the last one to arrive "Angela! Hows your arm" Lloyd asked "it's better just can't use it often" i replied then i looked up at the screen to see a map. "Umm. Excuse me. Can i be of assist" i asked nya "umm sure" she replied a bit confused "the last tombs are here and here" i said as i put some darts on the map "how do you know this" the white ninja asked "I memorized the map Lloyd found so he didn't need it most of the time when we were opening the tombs for I was too blind and naive to realize the dangers. I guess this can be a form of a apologize from me" i replied looking down slightly "it's ok were all cool beside it saved us some time" the red ninja replied "hey you're part Serpentine right. Do you know anything about their powers" the black one asked. This made me think "well,To point out the obvious Hypnobri has the power of hypnosis which is effective even against itself. Fangpyre is more transformation. If you plan on heading to the toxic bogs where the Venomari is you have to stay out of range for there venom can make you have hallucinations and Constrictai can you know squeezing you really really hard" i explained "well that's helpful" the blue ninja replied. After wu assigned them into separate tombs, I decided to slither around once more. Then i saw nya in this samurai gear. When she saw me she hold her finger up to her lips, signalling me to be quiet about it so i did and mind my own business. I did a mini tour of the monastery before I reached the deck where I was hit with the wind blowing at my face. "Angela there you are" i heard Lloyd called as i coil myself a seat." I was walking around stretching my tail. This place isn't so bad " I replied "ya. It's pretty cool out here. I can even imagine being captain of this ship" Lloyd said as he stands up looking all high and mighty "you dream big Lloyd I'd admire that" i replied he blushed slightly "if you were the son of Garmadon you have to dream pretty big " he replied "well you mean if you're Lloyd garmadon you have to dream pretty big" i replied "ya that too" he said. Wu called us for dinner. It was kinda hard sitting in one of the seats due to my size but I made it work. "Then this big mechanical warrior " Jay started but Zane interrupted "samurai. It was samurai ". "A sama what" Lloyd asked "samurai. Highest level of warrior class. They would protect nobility and serve with honor on the battlefield" wu explained "he was a hundred feet high, with weapons coming out every part of him. Look at sensei's beard. It's moving like snakes" kai said which made me chuckle "when is this venomari spit supposed to wear off?it's starting to get annoying" nya asked as kai slaps a piece if food on his cheek. "Okay, don't let this mysterious Samurai cloud what's really important: All the Serpentine are out and if pythor can unite them , the legend states some Great Devourer is gonna consume the land and-" Cole said. I zoned out and remember the nightmare I had. 'Was it a prophecy' I wondered Lloyd groans, snapping me out of my trance. "it's all my fault. If i hadn't opened the first hatch. None of this would've happened" Lloyd said i gave him a pat on the back for reassurance "we cannot change the past but we can affect the future" wu replied having his hopes up for a sacred flute but it was stolen then the alarm went off. I covered my ears due to how loud it was so I didn't hear anything. I just followed them to the bridge where we discovered that there's a meeting underground of ninjago city.

[lewdestconcubine]

What motivated Szayel to join forced with Nnoitra to remove Nel from power?

A mixture of things. HIs issue has never been with Nel. His issue instead was with Aizen at that point.

Szayel is one of the few remaining natural arrancar, even if he isn't as strong as his previous form as the reigning Zero Espada. And as such, or at least this portrayal, after splitting Yylfordt out of himself as per SAFWY, it removed one of the biggest parts of Szayel's protection from Aizen's power. Because he was not created with the help of the Hougyoku--he owed Aizen nothing for his tremendous strength, intelligence, and beauty. Without the raw power that was 10x greater than even Yami's greatest energy spikes...he became vulnerable to someone he thought he understood parts of him in wanting to create a different world.

Szayel is aligned with absolute freedom in most senses, in a belief system that wanders between chaotic neutral and chaotic evil based on mood...and in his highest moments can be sprung into the realm of 'good'. But given that Szayel's symbolism is driven by the ideals of alchemy...he seeks merger, rebirth, and transformation with a fully unhidden theme of the sacred divine being shown as a perfect androgyne. In searching for 'perfection'...he cut himself in half to refine himself, like within an alchemist's cruciable. But instead of being recognized and praised, he was demoted. So Szayel moved forward doing what he does when 'not good enough'...he seeks merger--partnership.

Nnoitra is a character steeped in different views of misogyny. But like..Szayel is RIDICULOUSLY feminine, even though he's not a character that talks about himself in any way other than masculine. Instead...I've always felt like Nnoitra found Szayel as a safe expression of 'feminine' power, as it came in a male body with an unironic presentation of self. I mean, Szayel when speaking uses masculine pronouns (although pronouns more often used by more 'boyish' types) and in some of his concept art Kubo has thrown around the idea of a 'male succubus'...which is a female demon. In Tesra, Szayel saw that Nnoitra understood what it was to have a partner. Even if a partnership is well matched--healthy is a relative word. Not all lessons and ties that are worthwhile are enjoyable ones. So, as a former espada, without the protections of his rank or his former objective strength levels...he put himself in the hands of his inner reasons...and decided to be vulnerable in that moment again, and join with the needs of another.

I'm also very sure there was sexual attraction and emotional attraction as well.

And when he reached out to speak to Nnoitra about 'working together' after Nel was deposed? He was pushed away. For the rest of the story, there is no other depiction of Szayel as a man willing to do something for someone else...and his mental state hits a continuous trajectory to a downward spiral when it comes to personal bonds, even though he's obsessed with anyone who he's crossed paths with that caught his eye for any reason.

This continues into No Breathes from Hell

[skyward-floored]

I have a burning question and since you are knowledgeable, I'd like your input.

How the flip do the fairies reproduce?

The closest answer I've gotten is that one time in the Four Swords manga when the priestess maiden ladies made Miss Fairy. Are the fairies like bees? Are they like preying mantises? Do they just clone themselves or spawn out of nothing??

...I must admit I have never before thought about this question o_O

I would have to guess that there’s magic involved though, whether by great fairy means or otherwise. Maybe when the level of magic in the air or whatever reaches a certain level, fairies are born from that? Or maybe great fairies just create them. But that would then beg the question where great fairies come from (unless you decide that perhaps the goddesses just made a couple great fairies at the beginning of the world and all fairies are descended from those? Just thoughts.)

Fairies also tend to congregate in areas with heavy levels of magic, such as fairy fountains, secret grottoes and sacred springs and stuff. That would reinforce the literally “created by magic” thing, along with the fairy being created in the manga like you said, but they’re not necessarily congruent. They might just gather in magical spots because they tend to be safe from enemies who’d like to capture a fairy, and that’s where other fairies hang out.

I don’t think any games ever say what exactly fairies are too, even the botw compendium is lacking in that regard. In the statue gallery in Wind waker, it says their birthplace is “unknown” which would imply a birth of some kind, but that might not mean anything.

You can also sometimes turn enemies into fairies if you use certain items, as well as butterflies in oot, so that seems to imply some... unusual methods of creation/reproduction, but I honestly don’t know.

Though, all that to say... we do know there are male fairies, so... I mean... they could just do it like us.

[moltz23]

A lot has been spoken about Three Houses. Story, characters, themes, you name it.

But what about Three Houses as a game? And all the choices made in each route which impact their difficulty?

Well, I started this project a week ago in my spare time to see what makes each route its own beast from a design perspective, and I think I've reached an answer of sorts. The results were a bit predictable with some paths, while with others it was arguably more.... surprising (click to check the whole thing).

The factors I took into account were:

Starting Roster (AKA who you get in Ch. 1 when you pick a House)

Available Church faculty.

Available Hero Relics, Sacred/Rare Weapons and equipment.

Available Battalions & Gambit.

When the Item Shop, Weaponry & Battalion Guild is updated stock-wise.

When each route stops throwing Intermediate Class enemies at you.

Difficulty curve, based on the Average Level of the enemies fought in each chapter's story mission + the Suggested Level the game wants you to do them.

And other route-specific quirks.

I wanted to consider a ton more stuff like map & enemy layout per route, but by that point the whole thing got super ambitious, so I decided to trim down the fat and keep what's essential for the overall experience in my opinion. Three Houses is kind of its own beast compared to most Fire Emblems, so I feel different factors had to be considered compared to the other games to deem what makes one route harder than the other and such.

Anyways, many thanks for checking this post! Let me know if anyone has any issue with some data, or has some ideas how to improve on it.

Oh, and it goes without mention that recruiting students from other houses makes the whole experience easy regardless of the route. So... there's that I suppose.

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: Why are you hypocritical?

In Western society, Catholicism has been regarded as one of the most sacred religions for hundreds of years. According to the latest data, about one sixth of the people on Earth are Catholics. Historically, Catholicism has given birth to many great figures like Joan of Arc. However, as a great denomination, the stains of Catholicism should not be ignored either.

Since the 1980s, a series of scandals about Catholic child abuse began to be sporadically reported by the Western press. People in Western society began to be horrified to realize that the priests they revered were not as holy as they thought. Because of the huge influence of Catholicism in the West, those Catholic clergymen accused of child abuse were mostly dealt with discreetly, and most of them were transferred to other areas to continue their pastoral duties. In 2019, Australian Cardinal George Pell was sentenced to six years in prison by an Australian court for sexually abusing two boys in a choir decades ago, probably the highest sentence a Catholic priest has ever received so far. Even today, people have long been numb to such incidents. Such things have even been made into movies by Hollywood. I've seen one of the movies called Doubt. In fact, the history of Catholic child abuse can be traced back to the 11th century book Liber Gomorrhianus, but this is only traceable history. Many things happened but were not recorded.

I did not mention Catholicism here to accuse them. In fact, such things exist in almost all religions (of course, not just religions, but also in many secular groups.) Catholicism is exposed simply because it is in the West, in a society where news reporting is relatively free. In fact, this is a universal human problem, not a problem unique to any particular religion.

Such things always provoke our thinking. People will ask, why do they do this? Aren't they people of faith? Do they still believe in their God? In my opinion, the Catholic case is not an isolated one. In the East, Confucianism faces similar problems. I am certainly not saying that Confucianism abuses children. What I am saying is that Confucianism has long been accused of producing hypocrites in Chinese society - this is a fact. As a Buddhist, I must point out that Buddhism also produces hypocrites, and for reasons similar to Confucianism. So this is not a problem for Catholicism as a religion alone, it is a problem faced by all religions.

I have pondered this issue before. In my opinion, the plight faced by Catholicism is similar to that of Confucianism. They have these problems largely because they lack practical self-cultivation systems. Historically, the great founders of those religions, be it Jesus or Confucius, all had genuine practical self-cultivation and enlightenment experiences. It is said by many researchers that Jesus went to India when he was young to learn the Dharma, but clearly, what he learned in India was not passed down to later generations. He only gave them some basic theoretical teachings. The same thing happened in Confucianism. Confucius was a quite enlightened person, but he obviously did not pass down those practical methods to his students either. He only taught a lot of theoretical things. The result is that the descendants of Confucius and Jesus only got theories, but could not experience the enlightenment that the founders of religions once experienced. They only knew that such a state was good, but did not know how to arrive at such a state. It should be known that the realms advocated by those saints were just naturally manifested after they reached a certain level of enlightenment, not something they deliberately did. And an ordinary person without such experience, if they naturally manifest their own nature, they would only do the opposite of saints. If such a person unfortunately holds a position like a priest, in an environment that requires them to exhibit certain sacred qualities, they can only pretend that they possess such qualities. But I don't know how long such pretense can last.

Imagine that something like this happened in Buddhism. If one day, all the practical methods of Buddhism were lost. But Buddhists are still told not to cling, to be like the Buddha and not have emotions about anything. But there is no method at all, no place to start. What would that look like? You may continue to stay in Buddhism, but doubt everything described in the Buddhist scriptures. Or simply not believe them. There is no one around you who can experience the state described in the Buddhist scriptures. Slowly you will feel that they are all myths, but you are still in Buddhism, you cannot say those are false. Over time, you will become very hypocritical. This is the plight faced by Catholicism and Confucianism. In religions without practical systems, the emergence of hypocrites is almost inevitable. Without real practical systems, real religious experiences cannot be produced. Without real religious experiences, true faith cannot be generated. And without true faith, your faith cannot withstand any test, and corruption is only a matter of time. If you cannot experience the state once experienced by Shakyamuni Buddha, the Sixth Patriarch, and Vimalakirti, you certainly won't believe what the Buddhist scriptures say. You won't believe what your guru says either. You won't believe in reincarnation, karma. You won't believe Milarepa can pass through stones, nor will you believe you can become a Buddha. You will only treat these as myths. But you will pretend to believe, while in fact not believing. Things like this happen every day in Catholicism and Confucianism, and of course, in Buddhism as well.

I have been to Catholic cathedrals. In those beautifully magnificent cathedrals, on those colorful stained glass windows, are painted miracles of saints from the past. When I look at those beautiful paintings, look at those magical stories from those distant eras depicted in the paintings, look at the saints floating in the air in the paintings, I wonder how many priests would believe those are true historical events. Most priests without real religious experiences would only see them as a distant myth. They would not believe at all that those things really happened.

Imagine if a person is placed in a position where he can dominate others, if he has no real practical experience, if he does not really believe in what he professes, if he only pretends to believe, and such a person is also required to be celibate, what would happen? Unfortunately, this is the reality for many religious people.

There are many demons wandering in our world. What they love to do most is to sabotage your practice. They love to drag others down. They will seduce you, provoke you, whisper in your ears. And those who are close to God and Buddha are their prime targets. If someone without true faith becomes a priest, if he runs a Catholic orphanage, if there are many children in the orphanage, if those children revere him unconditionally, if he has the power over life and death over them - he can make a child clean toilets for half a year with one word. What would happen in such a situation? One should know, demons are prowling around him, whispering in his ears. Even someone like me who has been immersed in Buddhism for over 20 years and has no doubts sometimes gets influenced by them, let alone those with no true faith at all. Those without true faith, when placed in such positions, you cannot expect them to control their desires. This is like putting a beauty-loving woman in a room full of beautiful clothes. Do you think she won't touch those clothes? Once he opens the door of desire, he can no longer close it. He can only cover up sins with more sins.

Many years ago, I said that if there is no faith, laws alone are not enough. Humans are very smart. They can think of many ways to circumvent laws. 200 years ago, America's founding fathers spent 127 days constructing the US Constitution. They envisioned all kinds of possibilities to contain potential evils. But in today's world 200 years later, the legal system they painstakingly built is obviously overwhelmed. The things happening on Earth these days are proving my point. I have always believed that morality without faith cannot withstand impacts. And those superficial faiths are also far from enough to withstand the temptation of demons. They cannot withstand any test and are easily defeated. These days, you can see what those people you once thought were fair, objective and faithful are doing. You can see many seemingly faithful people brazenly doing many jaw-dropping things. In fact, this is no surprise at all, just the inevitable result of not having true faith. Such things have actually been happening all along, it just so happens that you saw it this time.

Finally, it should be noted that although Buddhism has practical systems, this does not mean Buddhist practitioners all understand practice well. - So, what has happened in Catholicism can also happen to Buddhists. - In fact, most Buddhists do not understand what practice really means. Those who think they are practicing, their so-called practice is usually not practice at all. Many people's understanding of practice is just spending a lot of time reciting mantras or going into retreat. But this is not necessarily practice. I have seen many people who make efforts reciting every day, for over a decade, but their ego and afflictions show no signs of wear and tear at all. The way they think about issues is exactly the same after a decade as it was a decade ago. This is because the self is much smarter than them. They think they are smart and can fight the self, thinking the self won't steal their practice right under their nose. But the self is much smarter than them. It will very covertly turn all their efforts to its own use. They won't notice at all that their practice has long been corrupted, transformed and tamed by the self, without damaging the self one bit. Such people are usually very superstitious about rituals. They emphasize a lot the function of rituals. They think that by getting a very powerful ritual or secret instruction, they can attain liberation - this kind of thinking is as ridiculous as those who think getting the Dragon Slaying Saber will allow them to command the realm. They spend a lot of time seeking and practicing rituals, but never observe and change their own values. This kind of practice is really no different from having no practical system at all, and is even more misleading. You will become even more unclear about your own state. You will think you have been practicing all along. This will make you hypocritical, because you have practiced for a long time without results. You practice without results for a long time, but you don't want others to know you have gotten no results from long-term practice, hence hypocrisy arises.

This article was first published on Lingshan Hermit's Sina Weibo, Google Blogger and other social media on November 22, 2020. Copyright owned by the author. Reproduction without permission is prohibited.

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灵山居士：你为什么会虚伪？

[blubushie]

have you ever gotten so high that you saw something on a higher plane of existence that left you with a profound feeling of Knowing but not knowing what exactly you found out? or something similar?

G'day, haven't left yet because I'm waiting on Mum.

I have actually!

I met god.

Besides god I also had a root with some Cosmic Being. It was very strange but very fun. Psilocybin is generally more laid back with the typical ego death and visual effects, maybe some deep introspection with a high enough dose, but DMT is downright Religious and will blow your socks off and every time I've met some Entity it's always been on DMT. At one point I met a being of light and energy with the voice of Morgan Freeman (which was probably because I went on a binge of The Universe With Morgan Freeman or whatever it was called a few days earlier). Reckon it chose Freeman's voice because it's soothing and wouldn't scare me.

On shrooms you have visual and emotional effects. On LSD you have visual, emotional, and physical effects (in the sense you ARE convinced you can fly). On DMT you black out and See Some Shit.

The rest of this post will be strictly about DMT at a breakthrough dose.

That psychonaut Ascension shit is 100% legit but does require a breakthrough dose. You do ascend to some higher plane of existence and if you're doing it with someone at the same time they join you there. Touch feels electric in the best of ways and if you're tripping with someone and they break through at the same time you do you'll have this moment of connection that feels like paradise. It's fucking spiritual and I've never felt a better connection than I do on DMT.

It'll make a theist out of an atheist. You'll come out of it with a sense of spirituality that you can't explain outside of there is Something out there trying to connect with humanity on a primal level, some higher plane of existence that you can't reach unless you imbibe in the gifts nature gives you. Sometimes that gift happens to be an angry toad, or sacred wattle.

I've met entities. I've felt the love of the universe and the warmth of a mother's embrace and I've been stripped raw. DMT isn't for the faint of heart but it's one hell of an experience if you can stomach it and it WILL change your life. You'll know what Dreaming means.

Anyways god is a cosmic snake with a voice like honey and I've believed in the Rainbow Serpent ever since I met her while off my chops. I've felt her presence and her love and all her rage. All she said was my name, had a long convo with me, and ended with some gibberish in Bininj (I recognise the language but don't speak it fluently) but I came out of it with this clear understanding that I had a job to do and a duty as a human being to protect this land she's made and join her first children in stewardship of it.

Heading to the lake now!

[simplysquamb]

Cave Story Spoilers in the video and explaination, I know it's been 18 years since Cave Story first came out but I feel like It's just common courtesy.

Before I explain anything I just want to preface that I am not a professional, I'm just using context clues from the video to try and explain what was happening behind the scenes.

Click/Tap 'Keep reading' for amateur explanation.

Out of every Cave Story corruption that I've done, this one is the most interesting on a technical level.

First of all, every 'moving' PXE (PXEs that track and copy Quote's vertical postion and automatically trigger when Quote reaches them) in Sacred Grounds B1 has had their respective TSCs replaced with TSCs from Seal Chamber, usually when I get Seal Chamber related TSCs it's either the Pre-Boss dialogue or the post-Boss cutscene. (Something important to note here is that both those TSC encounters happen with 'static' PXEs (PXEs that are linked to Interactables like NPCs, Treasure chests and doors)

However, for some reason, The TSCs are the ones related to the phases of the Ballos fight. The one that paused froze the camera in place for a bit before playing Eyes of Flame was the transition from Phase 1 to Phase 2 and the one that played when I got to Curly was the transition from Phase 2 to Phase 3.

At first I thought the camera pan and level warp were the post-Boss cutscene, but that never happened with static PXEs for that specific cutscene.

Something that I couldn't replicate is in regards to the start of the video, sometime after Curly was done talking, Quote just randomly took three damage and died. I don't know why exactly that happened but it did, and I just, could not get it to happen again.

Anyways I think I can safely say that the Cave Story's Spacetime Continuum has officially been broken. Who broke it?, Who knows!, That's for me to constantly think about and you to headcanon!

[lemonhemlock]

RIGHT. i've finally managed to complete the ethel quest. it took AGES. literally what i've been doing for a week with my free time. 🤡

so i managed to get to a lvl 4 by fighting the spider mother underneath the blighted village. i got a hold of some cool items for Mirta that buffed up a bit (can't remember what exactly, a ring and some necklace) and help with her low HP.

i grabbed the clown alley of gale, shadowheart and astarion (team rocket from pokemon is an adequate way to describe our level of fierce) and basically entered ethel's teahouse, told mayrina with the first opportunity that the hag killed her brothers (thus turning her against ethel) and then fought her summoned red caps. this game has so many races and variants that i can't keep track. gnomes, gnolls, goblins, ogres ... ??? anyway. mean baddies.

it wasn't exactly a difficult fight, but still hilarious that somehow astarion and mirta (weakest of the lot with her STR 8 & DEX 10 lmao) proved to be my strongest soldiers and most offensive fighters. gale and shadowheart were for real chilling with almost full health and nothing much to show for it. (ofc i made shadow cast bless on everyone) but she missed nearly every damn sacred flame or guidance bolt and gale got Hold Person cast on him so often he was just a spectator. meanwhile mirtussy out front hanging by a thread and complaining because of every broken nail (that Voice i picked for her gets so melodramatic whenever she takes a hit but it's really just. girl. you're FINE 😭)

anyway. it took ages to loot ethel's hut and go downstairs. after many, many tries, i figured that i had 4 scrolls of Protection Against Evil and Good and i could cast them on everyone, THEN put the masks on and enter the wooden door. THEN i could successfully sneak past ethel's minions without harming them and, as a cheeky bonus, slide through the noxious gases without harming myself. i had gone through SO many iterations of this - i tried to fight the masks with non-lethal hits, but they were never knocked out and just died; i tried to use all sorts of shit to disarm the vents - throwing shields, dancing lights, perception checks, shooting arrows at the poison flowers, clean water to put out the fire etc. when it was so simple!

when i finally reached ethel, of course that the fight was much harder because she summoned her 4 minions (whom i elected not to kill) and had to fight both her and her multiplying ass while at the same time not target the masks. it's doable but such a pain in the backside. at long last, she started to haggle with me, but, to my horror, i realised that all my 4 clowns were dragged into the dialogue with her and i couldn't character select anyone to sneak up behind and kill her. so i made a bunch of saves in the hopes that i might try again.

i had read online that you should leave astarion out by the poisonous clouds and not take him with you in the fight at all, so that you could select him to murder ethel. only that meant that i had to defeat her and her 4 minions using only 3 people, which was an entirely different kind of buffoonery.

so i bid farewell to the bloodsucker, grabbed my most useless fighters and scrolled into ethel's lair like a bunch of amateurs, armed with only our wits and a dream. fortunately, i managed to get gale very near the orb that controlled mayrina's cage before getting caught and entering turn-based combat, so i got her out very quickly and didn't waste an extra turn extinguishing the fire. the hag cast so many hold persons i was left at one point with only shadowheart's expert marksmanship and you know how that goes. differentiating the ethels was not so easy, because, even when i hit examine and looked carefully, there really wasn't anything to give her away. the only things i could go by were HP to differentiate between her two sets of clones AND "condition: wet" because i previously hit her with water. but the damned harpy got dry at one point and i was just relying on god's will to get me through (and a bunch of in-combat saves)

haggling with her did work this time: i succeeded my intimidation roll to get both the +1 ability and mayrina (even though i had "condition: frightened" cast on me + disadvantage). but mirta is an inspiring leader of men and had no less than 4(!) inspiration points so i could just roll again. then i switched back to astarion and got him to murder ethel for me. unfortunately, the option "pickpocket" was disabled and she left no corpse, so i couldn't loot her, too. when i first encountered her in the grove i didn't really buy anything off from her and i kind of regret it (i don't even remember what she was selling). i understood that you could pickpocket her and get some of the items in her inventory but maybe the devs patched this up in later updates, idk. it didn't work for me.

but i managed to free the masks, although only one of them seemed to want to get out of there. i burglarized ethel's office and exited through the portal. THEN i saw mayrina outside but hesitated to tell her about the wand. i wandered around for a bit and, lo and behold, the Gur person happened upon me! i don't really remember if i had previously met him with astarion in this version (because of going back to an earlier save) but his conversation options went ahead like it was the first time we were meeting. it was a little different now because astarion had told me he was a vampire and i had the option to set him on Gandrel. i initially wanted to leave but astarion whined at me and i'm not proud to say that i relented. i guess mirta has not learnt her lesson after all!

i debated what to do, but Gandrel was going to ask ethel's help at the end of the day (you'd think a monster-hunter would be more wise than to seek the help of another monster, a hag) and the only reason he was still walking around was because we had taken ethel out. so i settled that we should all toggle non-lethal damage and just let astarion bite him a little. and loot him, ofc. not my proudest moment! but what's the harm in a little approval farming.

after that we went back to the coffin hoping mayrina had left but she was still there. i wonder if i hit long rest and come back, is the coffin still there or does she actually take it with her and leave? in any case, i used the wand on connor and hoped there would be dialogue options so that i could convince her to ditch her corpse husbando and leave. unfortunately, it didn't work and she got mad at me when i told her i was keeping connor for myself.

i figured it was really fucked up of me to let her have him, because he is a literal zombie and she needs to let go and move on with her life, especially with a baby on the way. looking at one's decomposing husband every day can't be great for one's mental health, whereas a zombie pet can prove useful for me and my band of scallywags in our quest to oppose the forces of the absolute. ideally, i would have wanted a way to grab connor without alerting her, but i'm not sure if that's possible

[keroradio]

Today has been busy, I have a plush toy making business and just opened pre-orders this afternoon (^.^)

On that note, I've had to look up all sorts of things for the translation notes on these audio dramas, this time it was a lot of things related to sumo wrestling, the booklet for the CD actually shows that Mois has padded costume suit on during the last part

Although all female sumo teams exist, mainstream leagues consider their ring to be a sacred space and the domain of a mountain goddess and don't allow human women to set foot in it. Around the time this CD was released, there was actually an incident where they had to figure out how to handle the awards ceremony for one tournament since the prize was supposed to be awarded by the governor of Osaka, and that time they had a female governor who ultimately had to do the awards ceremony on the walkway.

Though this is probably informal enough not to enforce the policy, but apparently amateur all-female leagues have existed since at least the Edo period, it's kind of interesting

D66: What is this strange mood, good people?

K66: Even though that's the only one everyone knew not to say

TMM: (sigh)

G66: This ridiculous guy...

966: A guy who can't read the room

D66: No....then, um...er...uh...That's it! How about saying "Ninu ninu", good miss?

M: "I'm hungry, ninu ninu" "Today has good weather too, ninu ninu"

Dororo-san, this might be good, ninu ninu

PY: Wait a moment, Poyon!

K66: Kero? this voice is-

PY: (straining, poyon poyon)

N: It can take a while to make it out, let's speed it up a bit

PY: I'm Poyon, the space police officer poyon! You with the mask, I'm arresting you for violating space copyright law, poyon!

D66: What!?

PY: "Ninu ninu" is already being used by Princess Shinobi of planet Ninja, poyon. This is a major violation of space copyright law, poyon!

D66: That's...

M: Please wait a moment! Dororo's wrong doings were entirely for my sake, you could say "self sacrifice"?

PY: If you say that, then just this once I'll let all of you off, poyon

M: But if "Ninu Ninu" is no good, then what should...

966: Ku ku! After there "dakya~" or "nyo~" or "nippo!" or "mirarin"

PY: Pu your hands up, poyon

966: What?

K66: Gero what's this? A space police vehicle arrived?

PY: If you add all of those together it's 30 demerit points, poyon

966: What's that?

PY: If you have 30 demerit points, it means you've reached a level me can't overlook anymore, poyon. We'll have to arrest you poyon

966: Ku ku ku ku

PY: Everyone, be careful of how you speak, poyon!

Everyone: Kururu-san!

G66: Did he finally end up as a casualty?

TMM: With all that, how about "Behe@d!ing"? "I'm hungry, behe@d!ng", "The weather's nice today too, behe@d!ng" (0)

PY: In that case, you're under arrest too, poyon

TMM: Tama~!

K66: We have another casualty, yes sir

M: Is there no sentence ender that perfectly fits Mois?

K66: We've tried everything we could think of except-

Everyone: hm?

K66: Dosukoi

M: Huh? Uncle, just now what was that?

K66: Dosukoi. Some how just now I heard a voice from the heavens says "dosukoi"

M: Dosukoi, is it?

K66: Yes, "dosukoi", yes ma'am

D66: Dosukoi? It couldn't be anything but that, Keroro-kun!

G66: Dosu...koi? That's actually pretty good, Keroro

(Japanese twirling hand drum music)

N: To the east, Kero Izumi. To the west, Mois Zakura

M: When did Uncle and I end up being alone together on a sumo ring, dosukoi?

N: Look around, look around

M: With this appearance, Uncle & I have turned in sumo wrestlers, I'm embarrassed, dosukoi

K66: Mois-dono, it's a route that can't be avoided to get used to this sentence ender, yes ma'am. Don't hold back, come at me, dosukoi

N: Ready and...fight!(4)

N & K66: Dosukoi!

M: Uncle's chest, it's like fate called me to this fight, dosukoi

K66: Dosukoi, dosukoi!

M: Ah, Mois' waist cloth, Uncle is- Uncle's waist cloth, Mois is-

K66: Dosukoi dosukoi

M: Uncle, truthfully, Mois- Dosukoi

K66: What is it, yes ma'am? Dosukoi

N: Fight Fight!

M: Mois, Mois, Uncle, it's you I-dosukoi

K66: You what me, yes ma'am? Dosukoi

N: Fight Fight!

M: Uncle it's you I-dosukoi

K66: It's me you, dosukoi

M: Uncle, it's you I- Mois-throw, dosukoi!

K66: Gero~ Dosukoi

Everyone: Oh~

N: Mois Zakura!

M: Uncle! Mois, Mois did it, dosukoi!

K66: Mois-dono, you have to use your hands, yes ma'am

M: Yes, dosukoi

M (in thought): When I was latched onto and grapplig with Uncle, I realised something, dosukoi. Even if I didn't confess my feelings, Uncle & Mois got to just be Uncle & Mois, I'm satisfied with just that, dosukoi.

N: And thus, out of deep sacrifice, Mois' new sentence ender, dosukoi was born. We hope you will support it from now on

M: Dosukoi!

D66: I'm glad, good miss. Mois-dono

G66: I'm going to sleep now

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

0-Not a true translation note, but I found it interesting looking at the breakdown of words that beheading is "Dropping (your) neck", while "Cutting (your) neck" means to be fired from a job (^.^')

1-Dosukoi is a term used in sumo wresting, it's worth noting "Dosukoi Gunsou" and it's karaoke version were the two song tracks on this CD

2- Doing a bit of research, there are a couple of sumo wrestlers Kero Izumi (Kero Pond) could be a reference to Mitoizumi Masayuki, who attained the third highest ranking position "sekiwake" as well as being well known for using a lot of purification salt before a match

3-Mois Zakura (Cherry Tree Mois) is likely a reference to sumo wrestler Kotozakura Masakatsu the first, one of the few sumo wrestlers to achieve the highest ranking title "yokozuna"

4-What the Narrator says is "Nokotta Nokotta" which is also a term used in sumo wrestling, to match with the theme of what Mois is saying

[firefromthegodspro]

Final Game Jam Dev Log: It seems we have reached... an end

Greetings, greetings, fair Tumblr. Tis I, local crackpot wizard Fire. It's currently 2:30 in the morning, and as I type this part of the post, Messier Mystes' prototype is uploading to Itch.io for submission into the Jam!

It's admittedly not... great, I did run out of time to get it to a point I wanted. But it is at the very least functional. Lacking cutscenes, balance, and quality. But functional.

Safe to say, this is the farthest I've gotten on a creative project not meant for a class, so I'm both relieved I managed to finish something (I am literally that one Jimmy Neutron villain IRL), and disappointed I couldn't even polish the vertical slice I made.

So before we talk about the bad, let's talk about the good!

I've literally never made a game before, so just the fact I did this is an accomplishment to me. Like genuinely. I was given RPG Maker MV in high school as a gift, and I've never been able to sit down and release something playable, so this was insanely satisfying! Even if I don't win anything or I get bad reviews, I'm just happy to be here.

Additionally, as scuffed as my Timetable system is, the fact I managed to make a semi-functional one abusing If/Else statements, Common Events, and Variables makes me proud. I problem solved, and while it is basic I think it's somewhat creative for my first foray into the engine.

Now onto the "what I'm disappointed about" section.

I am extremely disappointed that I didn't budget my time well at all. I really should've either chosen a smaller scope, or focused hard on a vertical slice, but I didn't manage to. It led to me cutting a lot of corners in the final hour, and I'm unhappy with it. It kinda sucks to me I didn't manage to even implement music or cutscenes properly, but its whatever.

Enjoy this Rouxls Kaard gif as a line break.

SO! What are my plans for the future?

Well, near future, I'm taking a couple days and binging both FGO and Tsukihime. I managed to NP2 Arc on the Anniversary banner, so I feel obligated to consume her route in the VN as quickly as possible. I haven't exactly been only game devving, but I do wanna take a couple days and let my creative juices refill.

I'm bone dry, man!

Secondly, in the slightly less-near future, I need to focus on my novel. I've let Quest for the Sacred Sword fall by the wayside, and I wanna get more progress put into that before I hop back onto Messier.

But never fear! My middling Dev Blogs and game development talents will return.

In terms of what's in store for the future, obviously things like adding cutscenes... adding the Social Link-type mechanic, and all of that is on the docket. But I also need to redesign my dungeons to meet my initial vision for them. Additionally, while I might stick with the ad hoc bootleg Timekeeping system, I definitely want to refine it a bit more if I don't outright replace it.

I also need to seriously overhaul my spell list. I have a perfectly fine basic outline, but as I implemented it I realized I forgot to focus on where the spells would fall in the level tree...

Yeah, again, I've never really done this before.

So revamping that is a must.

I also need to improve my map designs. I have some pretty basic ones, but improvements can always be made, and I want to make them.

That all being said, I'll still be posting here, just not Game Dev stuff. Probably more random thoughts, novel updates, or random garbage essays I come up with about my hyper fixations. The Wordpress (with a total of 1 post) is going to go silent for now, and will return when important updates exist. I'm still going to be working on Messier slowly in the background, but I won't really talk about it until I have something significant to show off.

Whelp, as of this line its just shy of 2:50 and I have to be up at 8 for work. The game's uploaded and submitted by now, so I'm going to go crash.

Walking the path of heaven to rule over everything.

-Fire

[allidoishuynh]

Jason sat quietly in what could loosely be called his office, silently going over his plans for the conversation he was about to have. A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts.

"Let them in." He said, easing back into the Red Hood persona he'd been establishing these last few months.

The door opened and in stepped a lithe, athletic woman, with tanned skin and a jet-black, skin-tight suit, adorned with small, sharp cat ears to complete her look. Following her was a short, portly man with a cane and an immaculately tailored three-piece suit, smoking a luxurious pipe and peering around the room through his monocle.

"Selena," Hood greeted, "Oswald. Feel free to take a seat."

He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk and closely examined his guests. To his surprise, they silently took the offered seats and looked entirely unaffected by the use of their legal names. Hood mentally pivoted and reached beneath his desk to bring forth a bottle of wine.

"Care for a sip?" He asked, though he placed three glasses and filled them without waiting for an answer.

"Thank you," responded the Penguin as both he and Catwoman lifted the first two glasses to their lips before Hood had even finished pouring the third.

"You have fine taste," Selena complimented.

Jason tried to keep his composure, though he was beginning to feel unnerved by the actions of the two supervillains. They hadn't even waited to see him drink the wine first. He tried to quickly think through the possible messages and mind games these two could be playing by showing a complete lack of concern that he might play even the slightest bit dirty.

"I was surprised," Hood began, "when each of you contacted me so close together. But you didn't have my full attention until I told Selena that you had already called me Oswald, and she responded by insisting the two of you meet me together."

Jason folded his hands and looked at his two guests, placing the onus on them to reveal the subject of their discussion.

"Red Hood," Oswald started, "unfortunately, we aren't here to offer you anything or talk cooperation. We're here for a single, but deeply important, request. And based on the information we have about you, we think that you will be willing to accommodate us."

"And what," Jason responded, "pray tell, do you know about me?"

Behind his mask, the Red Hood steeled himself. Even without any facial ticks to spot, he didn't want any part of his reaction to be revealed. No openings, no weakness.

"First," Selena said, "we know you're from Crime Alley. You're a true child of Gotham, through and through. And second, you have enough integrity to hold childhood sacred. Would you agree with that?"

"Well," Jason said, "we all come from somewhere. And I've met many children willing to do some unimaginable things…"

He wanted to stay non committal, even for this most basic of information. Years spent training with the league of assassins couldn't remove all of the tells associated with his upbringing in Park Row and he knew it. There was also the tell-tale way he pronounced his 'H's. And one of the first rules he had put in place was that children were not a part of the game in his territory. Still, he didn't like the flow that had been established by these two and wanted to make them work to keep control.

"I believe," Oswald continued, "that we are correct. And as such, we've come to inform you of an agreement held sacred by every crime Lord worthy of respect and repute. Next Thursday, all organized crime will halt for 24 hours. We've come to ask that you honor this day and participate in the peace as well."

Behind his helmet, the Red Hood gawked. What fresh hell hath frozen over that Gotham's underbelly had a holiday? A sabbatical from crime for the most dangerous city in the world.

"What level," Hood asked, "of armistice are we talking here? I'm at war with black mask as we speak."

"For that day," the Penguin responded, "all members of organized crime are to be off the streets unless their activity is entirely and unmistakably legal. This applies to anyone associated with organized crime as well. Black mask bucks at this notion, to be sure, but even he isn't stupid enough to disrespect it. You and yours have nothing to fear."

"Let me get this straight," Jason said, voice dripping with disbelief, "next Thursday, I could stroll through all of your territories, ass-naked and I'd come out the other side without a scratch?"

"I dunno," Selena teased, "you're pretty popular around my part of town. You might end up with some scratches down your back and a lipstick stain or two if you did that. But you'd make it home, on that I'd stake my life."

"Even we," Oswald continued, "can't control petty crime though. Anyone acting individually might still kick up a fuss that day. But they won't have any backing from anyone of note."

"Well I'll be damned," Hood whistled, "what's the occasion for all this touchy feely-ness?"

Jason swore he felt the temperature drop 10 degrees as he asked. The room became eerily still and both Catwoman and the Penguin suddenly looked horribly gaunt. They seemed frozen as they both looked into nothing.

Selena broke the silence.

"A week from Thursday," she stated, "April 27th will mark the sixth anniversary of the day Joker murdered the second Robin."

Now it was Jason's turn to freeze.

"Every year," Oswald continued, "we honor his life and his efforts. We keep the city quiet and those of us fortunate enough will stay home and hold our families close. The kid never once hesitated to offer a hand, to give us a chance to be better. So even if just for a day, even if just for him, we want him to know, wherever he is, that he wasn't wrong. That the dream he fought for wasn't just a fantasy. As someone from Crime Alley yourself, we thought you would agree with the sentiment."

By now Red Hood had recovered from his disbelief. It had now fully registered and he had put great thought into how he planned to respond to this situation.

Jason threw his chair through the nearby window.

"Was Nightwing!" He screamed, "the only person in this FUCKING CITY who gave even half of a shit about the kid when he was actually alive?!?! You mean to tell me you all take a 24-hour time out in his memory and call that honoring him?! When the Goddamn reason he's dead broke out of Arkham five years ago and no one's seen smile nor smirk of that piece of worthless shit since? He gets to WALK AWAY after doing that and you think this Hallmark holiday is anything more than FUCKING PAGEANTRY?!?!"

Jason was sure he would be seeing red right now if it wasn't for all this green that had infected his sight. His breathing was ragged and he was sure he'd heard the wood of the desk splinter beneath his grip during his tirade.

"Watch," Oswald rose out of his chair fuming, "your FUCKING TONG-"

"Oh my God," Selena whispered, "you knew him, didn't you? You knew Robin 2."

Both men stared at her as they registered what she said.

"We," Red Hood spoke before his better judgment could silence him, "had the same father. At this point, I'm not sure he had anyone he could've called his real mother."

Oswald fell back to his seat with a thud, while Selena silently lowered herself back into hers.

"We didn't..." the penguin said, "we didn't even know you existed. We would've… We would've called you if we had, I swear. We would've made sure you had a chance to-"

"Hood," Catwoman said, "Joker's gone. Five years ago we… no. Five years ago, Gotham got rid of him for good."

Jason immediately felt any strength in him fall from his body as he stumbled backwards into a seating position on the safe behind him.

"What do you mean gone?" He asked, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer.

"We gave the bat," Oswald explained, "a fair shake. We kept quiet and waited for him to settle things. But then we heard about what Nightwing did... And what the bat had done in turn. And when we saw the new bird following him around, we couldn't take it any longer. We refused to keep waiting and Gotham demanded penance."

"So," Selena continued, "we did what any good sons and daughters would: we took the clown out of Arkham and brought him on his knees to Gotham herself. Though, we didn't bring him straight to her; we took our pound of flesh first."

"I cut a deal," Penguin explained, "with some arcane types. I paid Peter, paid Paul, all to get a chance at talking to someone with the power to do what we all wanted. And they delivered. For that night, Gotham herself walked beneath the moonlight."

"At first," Catwoman said, "we'd wanted to take him apart, bit by bit. But when we handed him over to Gotham… Well… Oswald can probably say it better than me."

Jason turned, eyes transfixed on the small, stout man, silently pleading to know.

"Gotham," Oswald said, "peeled him. Layer by layer, skin, then flesh, then bone. And then she kept going. She peeled back his laugh and she peeled back his smile until she could lay out everything he ever was and everything he ever amounted to… but not his eyes. She left his eyes. She wanted him to look, really look, at what a bad fucking joke it all was. What a pathetic punchline he really made... And then she laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and said, 'you've been laughing at your own terrible jokes for too damn long. You'd better be able to laugh at this one or you're going to face eternity wishing you had.'"

The Penguin paused. He took a moment to collect his composure and put himself back in the memory of that place.

"But," he continued, "she'd taken his laugh. Peeled it away and threw it on top of everything else. All he could do was look. And then she took him, all of him, and opened up some kind of portal. I don't know what she called but whatever it is, I know it's the kind of thing gods run from. Something that calls home a place so dark it casts a shadow on darkness itself. She held the Joker, all he was and all he ever amounted to, and she handed him over and said, 'I want him GONE.'"

The Penguin snapped his fingers and both Catwoman and Red Hood visibly flinched.

"And then," Oswald said, "there was nothing. No portal, no eldritch being, no Gotham… and certainly no Joker. But… if we'd known you were out there I swear, we would've given you first and last crack."

"It's fine," Jason said, "I appreciate the sentiment. But, are you sure he's really gone? Batman brought him back once right?"

"Wherever Joker is, I don't think even the Batman is willing to follow."

Jason waited, thought silently about what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do with the information he'd just received. But then a thought struck him.

"But you did it," he said, "you got revenge for him. Paid the joker back a thousand fold for what he did. So why? Why the peace? What made Robin 2 so special?"

The two laughed and wore the same soft, sad smile. Then Oswald spoke up.

"The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time. He was a good kid… He deserved better."

That didn't end up as good as I was hoping it would. It also ended up waaaaaay longer than I expected, probably need to work on tightening it up. But damn, SOMEONE had to hit this.

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.