#its not enough to lose your identity you also have to lose the tiny fragment of identity you managed to claw together and claim for yourself

[nintendont2502]

forever fucking thinking about hal's name reverting back to ar when he became part of arquius

[ket-fisto]

So we're like a week in with the new 7.0 expansion update and I've played through the new story a few times (mostly because it makes you level 80 in like 30 minutes) and spent the rest farming with this new ridiculous system that's like a tiny hint of a good idea and then just a mess of confusion.

Detailed gear talk ahead that probably won't make any sense if you don't already have a basic idea of the 7.0 system:

First of all, you have a weekly limit to the new resources, which you will need in order to upgrade your equipment irating. When you spend the resources, that doesn't get removed from your weekly limit, so you can't really be smart with your spending like you can with tech fragments. On the positive side, the limit means everyone gets stuck at some point, not just you. On the downside, if you wanted to farm like crazy one week and then chill another week, you might 'lag' behind. I suspect the limit was put with good intentions, maybe to help players play other content instead of feeling compelled to farm nonstop, but it removes the choice from people for how they want to farm.

You're not supposed to really get drops of higher rated gear like in 6.0 (which was a fantastic, easy to grasp system, I miss her), and instead upgrade your existing gear. So I've been farming with a couple of my characters for a couple of days and already am very close to the weekly limit for the currency that is needed for my conquest gear (aquatic resource matrixes), and I barely had enough to upgrade one full set for my sniper/operative from 320 gear to 322.

Now at first, I thought that the armor drops I was getting from flashpoints were like better versions of the starting 7.0 gear or the 320 gear I got from the conquest vendor. But nope! They are actually different, and to upgrade them you need to spend different currencies (and are much pricier to upgrade). They are on a completely separate upgrade track of their own! The armor sets look pretty much identical, so you will only notice it's different from the name or if you suddenly get the blue drops from the flashpoints. When it comes to resources, it's cheaper to upgrade conquest gear, but if you lose the noble gear then I guess you just gotta hope you get some for the slots you need from the decurion crates. But eventually, if you want to get the maximum irating or blue/purple gear, you will be forced to go to a different gear track.

Does that make any sense? No? Of course it doesn't. As I'm writing this I'm confusing myself. I'm only now starting to understand the entire system after trial and error (and bugs that made my crates disappear, yay), and I wouldn't even bother trying to understand it if you don't have hands on experience with the system yourself until your brain morphs into this odd way of thinking the game has.

If a player hasn't been paying attention to the change in the system they are shit out of luck. This shouldn't matter really, as swtor is very casual friendly with its healing companions and such, but it seems that in the rebalancing, they've also fucked up a lot of that as well for the farming. I found myself wiping in heroics, my companion not being able to heal me fast enough and my damage chipping away at enemy hp due to brutal downscaling. Basically, it used to be that when you were low level yeah, you might have a hard time at first in the heroics, but then when you got stronger you came back and even with the downscaling of your level, you were still way more powerful. But now it feels like you're kinda stuck in that underpowered state when the game downscales you. I don't know if it's the new gear fucking up with my stats so badly that this is happening but it's extremely evident that something is 'wrong'. I'm doing much more proportionally significant damage in vet flashpoints when I'm not downscaled than I do in medium level heroics. The saving grace is the enemy tagging system has made any non instanced heroic go faster if there are other people around. Still, wish I was more powerful again.

iN confusion/conclusion, this 7.0 is basically the opposite of casual/average player friendly. I'm half asleep as I wrote this and if you actually read it wow. Hope any of it was coherent.

[starlightshadowsworld]

YGO Protagonists

Atem:

*Oldest brother... Literal dad

*Is very protective over the rest of them

*Seriously don't touch a hair on their heads because you will lose your soul.

*He totally has Kaiba on Speed dial and calls him over the dumbest things to get a rise out of him (but they are friendly?( Seto would also murder you dead if you hurt these munchkins he just won't admit it... (I will not apologise for this)

*Does not understand memes (mee mee's?) but tells dad puns for days.

*Always gives compliments and gives great life/dueling advice to the rest (puts a hand on their shoulders with that knowing and proud look).

*Will spend hours bragging about how far Judai's come, how smart and talented Yusei and Yusaku, how Yuya and Yuga created original dualing rules, how Yugi is awesome. He will tell anyone and everyone (they all secretly love it)

Yugi Mouto:

*Younger older brother? (identical twins but younger of the two)

*Super optimistic, always there to lend a hand and is very pacifistic... but will throw hands if the situation requires and without hesitation.

*Has Kaibaman in his deck to spite Kaiba (it works every time)

*HE SHARPENS HIS HAIR!

*Yes it can pierce a wall... It was for science.

*Usually the one to help escalate the chaos, and than pretends to have no idea why the house is upside down... And on fire... And the fire is green.

*Is the only one other than Atem to get Yusei to go to sleep.

*He loves puzzles, telling riddles and leaving little clues around the house for the others to solve (and they always get a present even if they get it wrong because they tried.)

*Doesn't see anything wrong with his fashion sense.

Judai Yuki:

*Problem child 1, needs a hug

*Memelord, will constantly troll Atem with movie references, and anything he can think of. (Yes he does quote the star wars prequels during duals.)

*Yubel makes sure he's looking after himself and has woven their way into the family. They and Astral have fun conversations. (Pharaoh the cat gets on very well with Atem... Werid.)

*Either he's happy, outgoing and herding the younger kids into various pranks. Rounding up Yuya, Yuma, Yuga and Yugi into his antics, (we don't speak of the Eggwitch incident). Sometimes he manages to drag Yusaku in to join them, giving them all a part to play and praising their efforts (they haven't been caught)

*OR he's depressed, haunted and full of guilt. He finds comfort by spending time with the others, hating being on his own. Everyone even those fairly reserved pick up on his mood and direct him to different tasks. Especially with Yuya, both of them can talk for hours about what ifs, shoulds and shouldn'ts.

*Favourite non dualing activity is helping Yusei to bake, he has burned many a cookie but he loves icing cakes.

*Very protective, will tap into the power of the Supreme King and Yubels abilities sometimes as unconsciously when one of the others are upset, or he's pushed into a corner.

Yusei Fudo:

*Oldest after the twins, literal mum

*Can't take care of himself to save his life but cares deeply for the others. Packing them lunches, helping them with school work etc.

*Takes Yusaku under his wing as soon as he sees his tech skills, both of them stay up for hours working on projects until Yugi scolds them at 4 am.

*Always half asleep, covered in oil and holding a cup of coffee (no he doesn't have a problem.) He mumbles codes and always seems to fall asleep holding a wrench.

*Usually he's accompanied by Yuga or Yusaku, either sitting and asking questions about their projects or working on a shared on/Yusaku's own stuff. He doesn't like working alone so it works out.

*Can do the "Mum look" and it has stopped the Supreme King, Dark Zexal and Zarc in their tracks.

*Card games on Motorcycles...having his bike borrowed by the little ones who want to play a card game on a bike but aren't old enough or know how to drive.

*Likes to bake, learned from Martha to give the others birthday treats and finds it fun.

*Claims he can never get sick... Liar.

Yusaku Fujiki

*Problem child 2 (all problem children need hugs and therapy, Kaiba get your wallet)

*Tried to stay closed off from the others but finds he enjoys their company and their antics.

*He has a Metapod hoodie that Yuya won at a carnival and gifted him. He wears it all the time, its cosy.

*Pretty Awkward, very cold sometimes without meaning it but somehow there all able to understand what he means without getting upset or offended.

*He spends hours working on projects with Yusei, neither talk much and it's a comfortable silence. Yuga often accompanies them, full of questions and joy and he enjoys sharing his work.

*Prefers to watch the others dual than to dual himself, absorbing the strategies and while he doesn't quite understand their motives... He finds himself smiling at Yuya's shows, wondering what he means with his smiling routine.

*Offhandedly told Kaiba that he fixed some holes in his security system. Kaiba went on a firing spree (yes with his firing people coat) and his was promptly hired. He actually enjoys it, and is now Kaiba's favourite brat.

*Also... The missing persons list is growing after Yusaku finally opened up about his past.... Werid.

Yuya Sakaki

*Problem child 3 (see above)

*Smiles go for miles

*Finds a lot of comfort from the others. The first time he let slip about Zarc, Judai was right there with his glowing green/orange eyes and they bonded instantly.

*He tries to only dual for entertainment and fun but that can't always be the case, though it really rattles him up afterwards. Do not make him mad in a dual if you value your life.

*Plays a lot with Yuma and Yuga, as the oldest of the trio he tries to set an example... He never said it was a good one....hes part of Zarc.

*He always has a game, an idea and the others will always be his faithful audience. He's made real solid dualing into an art, Atem and Judai have made his monsters real at times without the need for the tech (it was beautiful)

*Starts the appreciate Dragons Fanclub with Yusei and Kaiba.

*Yes to capes (Sorry Edna)

*Fusion dimension isn't available at the moment... Or the forceable future.

Yuma Tsukumo

*Second youngest, space boy

*Atem gives him advice and praises every one of his duals even he loses, teaching him that every one can be used as a step towards success.

*Astral befriends Yubel, and often makes remarks at the Zarc fragments, he and Yuuri get on the others nerve.

*He spends most of his time with Yuya and Yuga, either dualing, watching Yuya dualtain or pranking. He started their lengendary prank war against Judai and Yugi...(Yusei was out of the house for a week and Atem gave up). It was a battle for the ages.

*He does worry at times that he's so behind the others skill's levels but as he gets closer to them it matters less. He cheers on every one of them, bragging about how cool they are.

*He takes up other hobbies, baking, cooking, and dragging everyone into family game nights. Which all end fine and do not result in a pissed of Zarc threathing Wario before kicking his switch out of a window... Nope absolutely not.

*Has a constellation book.

*Likes using big words he doesn't know the meaning off. And than trying and failing to convince everyone he knows exactly what he just said without googling it... While Astral facepalms, definitely picked it up from Yusei.

Yuga Ohda

*Tiny baby

*Yugi picked him up once and everyone starting to sing "it's the circle of life."

*He loves watching Yusei and Yasuke work, because they answer his questions properly and look at his inventions with respect and a critical but kind eye. They slowly teach him his to improve and it shows in his work.

*All of them were interested in his Rush duals and listen to him explain, finding it interesting and another new way to play.

*Yuya teaches him how to dualtain, both of them putting on hippo-tastic shows for their friends and loved ones. Fulfilling their goals to have fun.

*He steals everyone's hoodies and jackets, doesn't care how big they are he will steal them and wear them. And look adorable despite his argument that he isn't.

*Everyone is the most protective of him as he's the youngest and while he's touched, he's super protective over them and offers himself as a cuddle buddy whenever anyone has nightmares.

And there all one big crazy family

[chaotic-noceur]

but your lies were so sweet

[ day 6 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x reader

summary: In his time with Statesman, Jack has gone by many names. In your experience, they were all just aliases for the same liar.

warnings: false identities, lying, no fluff all angst

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm for beta reading and nudging me back into writing this! Also, some inspiration was taken from Headspace by Lewis Capaldi.

a/n: ahhh we’re almost at the end of this week of pain 😭To those of you who have been reading these every day, I applaud you for sticking with us through it all, and thank you for all the love and support! To those of you who have just found this, welcome to the angst! Once again, i apologise for the pain but this ones pretty gentle considering Javi’s....

gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

“Just tell me why!” you begged, grabbing his hand harshly. “I just want to know why Alex.” He tugs his arm free from your grasp as he spins round to meet your gaze. “Just tell me that and I’ll-” you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat, “tell me why and I’ll let you go.” He clenches his jaw. 

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far, hadn’t meant to hurt you. But one thing had led to another and before he knew it… he’d found himself living the life that he had always wanted. Except it wasn’t real. It wasn’t really his. Worst of all, he’d dragged you so far into his fantasy that you were bound to get caught in the crossfire when it inevitably came crashing down around him. 

“Look, sweetheart,” his shoulders drop with a sigh. “There’s something you should know.” His voice is hushed, tired. You fold your arms in an attempt to not lose your patience. “That night you and I met? That wasn’t any mistake.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you take a step towards him and he eyes the closing of space between you. You ignore the frown forming on his face. “It’s like the stars had aligned and you waltzed into my life and I was falling for you befor-”

“No, sweetheart. You’re not hearing me.” His duffle bag falls onto the floor with a loud thump as he grasps you by the shoulders. “Our ‘accidental meeting’ was no accident.”

“Wha-”

“The night we met, the thoughtful dates, the entirety of our relationship-” he lets go of you to wave his arm out for emphasis, “it was all one big set up t’ get you t’ fall for me. It ain’t nothing personal darlin’,” he shrugs cooly, “it’s just the job.” 

The nonchalant tone in his voice makes your blood boil and you clench your fists at your sides. “What are you talking about?” 

He deliberates keeping the act up, or spinning up a new lie. Either way, the damage has been done. But the dejected look on your face, the innocent glimmer in your eyes… it stirs something in him that he doesn’t want to address. Not now. Not while he had a mission to complete. 

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that urges him to tell you the truth. To give you some semblance of closure. You deserved that much. 

He sighs before he speaks. “My name isn’t Alex, it’s Jack.” He watches as confusion blooms across your features. “Now I can’t in good faith tell you what it is I do for a living but I sure as hell ain’t no pilot. I don’t li-”

“No.” You bring a hand up to stop him as the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place. “You told me- you- you were so-” you shake your head in disbelief as you stumble back, strings of mumbled ‘no’s falling from your lips. Your hand clutches the door handle for support. He watches as you inhale shallow breaths, your eyes darting across the floor.

“I thought you loved me,” you whisper finally. He would’ve missed it had he not been paying you so much attention. 

“I only told you what you wanted to hear darlin’.” The weight of his words crash into you with full force and you struggle to breathe. You clutch a hand to your chest, clawing at the invisible knife that’s stabbing at your heart. “You don’t know anything about me, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!” You throw yourself at him and shove him hard. He stumbles into the hallway until his back hits the wall. “You have no right to call me that!” You sneer. Turning away from him, you shake your head in disgust. You pace across the walkway as you compose your thoughts.

Eventually, you stop in front of your open door as you turn your head to look at him. When you speak, there’s a calmness to your voice that makes his stomach lurch in disgust. “You talked about wanting a love that lasts. A love so strong that you would do anything to keep it but you know what?” You raise your eyebrow at him tauntingly. “A man like you?” You scoff. “You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.”

You step over his discarded duffle bag before slamming the door shut behind you. Tears well in your eyes as you lean your back against the stained wood. Your shoulders drop in defeat as you slide to the ground, silent sobs wracking through your body. You’d fallen for the ghost of a man, a creation of your imagination—of his. But why did the pain feel so real?

Through clouded eyes, the photo frame sitting on your shared bookshelf catches your attention and something in you snaps. 

You storm across the room and hurl the offensive object at the wall. The shattering of glass rings out in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the pain in your chest. Your glare fixes onto the collection of books the pair of you had started and you grit your teeth at the sight. Angry sobs echo across your empty apartment as you yank books of the shelf. 

You want every trace of him gone.

●●●●

When Jack gets back to headquarters, he’s greeted with proud smiles and shoulder clasps. Champagne gives his usual debriefing speech but Jack can’t stop your words from echoing through his mind.

You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.

Deep down, he understands that they were words said out of anger. He wants to believe that you didn’t mean them. But a small part of him can’t help but wonder… maybe you were right. No matter what he did, he never seems to be able to save the people he loved from getting hurt. 

The truth is, he’d never meant to fall for you or to have his affections returned. But the longer his little charade went on, the more he felt himself losing himself in the make believe of it all. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed the feeling of redamancy until you started loving him back. 

The thrill that had shot through his body with every gentle touch you gave him. The warmth that filled his chest with every smile you sent his way. It felt like the first balmy sunbeams of spring thawing the frozen ground after a long, icy winter. He had relished in the feeling - the relief of knowing he hadn’t gone completely numb to all emotion. He got so caught up in the bliss that he almost forgot about the hurricane of deceit that loomed over his head, threatening to make landfall at any moment.  

●●●●

Years later, when his muscles are stiff and his mind heavy with the burden of past missions, he’s finally ready to surrender his code name. He’s helped bring down countless criminal organisations and he was done. He was tired of the continual fighting; tired of the secrets and lies.

He loved his job, don’t get him wrong. The Statesman gave him a home when his had been so cruelly stolen from him. They gave him a purpose when he felt nothing more than blind rage. 

But he never quite managed to quench the tiny fragment of him that longed for a normal life. A life free from the looming threat of violence and death. A life where he has a local bar & grill and they know his order off by heart. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He hopes he still has the chance to find out.

The months with you feel like a distant memory now, but the emotions remain. At times, he thinks he sees your face amongst a sea of strangers. He thinks he hears your voice, lulling him to the land of dreams. He thinks he remembers the taste of your lips against his, but he can’t be sure.  

●●●●

Glancing to the numbers by the door as he crumples the sheet of paper in his grip. He straightens the leather jacket before delivering three firm knocks against the door. The silence that he’s met with allows for the doubt to sink in.

Did you even want to see him? What could he possibly say to you to make up for the hurt? What if you’ve moved on? What if this just stands to cause you more pain? What if you hate him? You have every right to hate him. He hates himself for what he did to you. 

A metallic clinking jolts him from his thoughts and he reaches instinctively for the ghost of his lasso as he turns. His breath hitches when his gaze falls on you. The expression you wear is somewhere between anger and hurt and he doesn’t know which one he hates more.

You stare at each other for a quiet moment before both attempting to speak at once. Your overlapping voices form an abrupt dissonance that startles even yourselves.

“I wanted to-”

“What are you-”  He clears his throat awkwardly and you bring your arm up, gesturing for him to continue.

“I owe you a formal explanation,” he states. You scoff quietly. He owes you a lot more than that. “Perhaps we could talk in a more… private setting” He eyes the neighbouring doors suspiciously. A raised, unimpressed eyebrow is your only response. “The things I need to say… they aren’t for the public ear.” You roll your eyes at him. There was always some secret with him. When you fold your arms across your chest, he softens. “Please.”

A part of you hates him. It wants to scream and hurl insults at him until your throat is raw. But a bigger part of you needs to know why he had left. What he’d meant when he said it was ‘just the job’. Why he’d lied to you the whole time.

There’s a slight downturn in his lips that makes the rope around your heart tighten its grip and you want nothing more than to cut yourself free. But there’s a sliver of vulnerability in his eyes that makes it difficult to hold your anger.

With a sigh, you pick your dropped keys off the floor, step around him and key the door open with more force than necessary. You hold it open for him before leaning against the other side. 

Jack looks around awkwardly as he takes in the signs of you that are scattered throughout the space. He notes the distinctive lack of him. All remnants of him had been wiped clean. Although, he supposes they weren’t really parts of him to begin with. They were parts of the man he wanted to be. The man he will never be. 

The sound of you clearing your throat jolts him from his spiralling thoughts. There’s a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before and he shrinks back slightly, feeling painfully out of place. He can’t recall the last time he was this nervous and he shifts his weight uncomfortably. You drum your fingers impatiently across your folded arm and he inhales deeply before beginning. Come hell or high water, there was no going back now.

“M’ real name is Jack, Jack Daniels.” The drumming stops. You stare at him, dumbfounded. An incredulous laugh threatens to leave your lips - he honestly expected you to believe that that is his name? But there’s no trace of humour in his eyes so you clamp your mouth shut. “I was an agent for a secret intelligence agency known as Statesman. Now, Alex was-” he pauses as he grapples for the right words, “a made-up persona, designed to capture your interest, so to speak.” You inhale sharply, though you hide it well. He continues. “You should know, it wasn’t you that we were after. Your friends were involved with some… suspicious people and we needed t-” you hold out a hand to stop him. 

“What do you mean ‘suspicious’?” You push off the door to step toward him. “My friends aren’t criminals!” He holds his arms up in defence. 

“No, they weren’t. But they were involved with some. It made them suspects. But you…” he looks to you for permission to proceed. You nod stiffly. “You were a tough nut t’ crack. Not even our finest agents could find a damn thing about you and that made you peculiar- an anomaly.” He tilts his head towards you as if congratulating you on a feat. His voice deepens when he says, “we don’t like anomalies,” and you scoff at the tone. 

“So they sent you,” you sneered, failing to mask your appalled tone. 

“There ain’t nothing better than live intel swe-” he stops himself short. He sees the way you start recoiling from him but he keeps going. “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it had and I truly do apologise for fooling you but we had to know you weren’t a threat.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. Blank pieces start to fill themselves with vivid colours of truth. You were nothing but a pawn on a chessboard being manipulated. Your legs feel weak and you move to sit against the arm of the couch. He follows your movement, turning to you as you walk. There’s a distant look in your eyes and he gives you a moment for the words to sink in. 

“While the night we met may have been a setup-” he takes a hesitant step towards you and your eyes snap up to meet his, “my feelings for you were not.” You narrow your eyes at him and he stops pacing. He observes the subtle clenching of your jaw and he decides to crack open the box that he’d buried a long time ago. He needs you to see there’s a real bleeding heart beneath the facade he’d been forced to weave for you.

“I lost someone very dear to me once, a long time ago.” His gaze dances between you and the objects in the room. “I never thought I’d find someone after her. But then you-“ He stops short. Sighs. Worries his lip between his teeth for a moment before speaking. This all seems so far-fetched now. 

“You were never meant to get caught in the crossfire of all this.” His voice is but a whisper, like he was speaking a sacred confession. There’s a new note to his voice as his eyes flit back and forth between your own, as though studying them for any kind of reaction he could get. “I love you.” 

The room falls silent. Jack swears he can hear the distant ticking on a clock from deeper within your home. His heart hammers in his chest, the resonant beating echoes into his ears.

Finally, you smile. “You wanna know something?” There’s a sinister tone lacing your voice and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I never thought that a lie could sound so sweet,” you chuckle lowly, “until you opened your mouth and said you loved me.”

Jack feels his stomach lurch in response to your words. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He supposes he’ll never know.

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67  @hillarymurray4 @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @cryptkeepersoul @agirllovespasta @wickedfrsgrl @dindisneydjarin  @opheliaelysia @aeryntheofficial @adikaofmandalore @goldafterglow @yespolkadotkitty @chibi-liz05 @scarlettvonsass​ @rpcvliz @cinewhore @basura2319 @theravenreads @mxndoscyarika @jaime1110 @f0rever15elf @pancakepike @phoenixhalliwell​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @apunkpascal​

[gerbiloftriumph]

The Size of Hope

(also on ao3)

Mordon isn’t certain what to make of the fairy tale king his goblin friends captured, and King Graham has no idea what to make of the huge and clumsy goblin who keeps running into his path. The two warily team up, but neither one belongs in the goblin kingdom, and some pain runs deeper than either expects.

(Gen canon-expansion fic putting scrapped fragments from the subtitle file back into the game. Full fic warnings: bruising, canon-typical violence, self-hatred, abuse, Goblins Do Not Make Good Friends)

~*~*~

5/5

(1: Seen)(2: Found)(3: Buried)(4: Lost)(5: Hands to Hold and Hope)

~*~*~

Much, much later:

Two old men stare blankly at each other. They stand in the tunnels beneath Daventry, in the old well where Graham’s journey to knighthood had begun; where his journey to kinghood had been completed; where Manny had hidden for years; where Mordon—Mordack, now—had grown out of his goblin armor. The waterfalls splash and echo oddly in the cold, empty caves. There used to be a dragon in here. Before Manny let it out to wreak havoc on the lands above. There used to be a lot in here. And now there’s just the king and the goblin and the memories.

“Look, before you do his test of strength or whatever,” Mordack says, looking down at his feet. “I need to know. Do you remember the goblin caves? When the villagers were taken? And we met? Did you…you really didn’t know? That I was…not a goblin?”

Graham blinks, startled. “Mordack, that was fifty years ago.”

“Yeah. I know.” As though he hasn’t thought about it every night since then. He tries to play it casual. “But. Did you know?”

A hesitation. Graham stares at the nearby waterfall, at the little cave with the stained alchemy tables and worn fragments of life. Then: “No. I didn’t know. Not at first. I suspected, I truly did, and for that I take the blame, but I had no proof. Not until it was too late. I wish….” He can’t seem to find the right words.

The two men look at each other across years, and it’s uneasy, this not knowing what might have happened if Mordack had become a Daventry citizen that night. If Manny (once considered Mordon’s favorite illustrator, a champion of stories) hadn’t stopped him from going to Graham’s castle after he’d calmed down. If he had grown up with Graham instead of Manny. If things had changed in just that one tiny moment.

The pause stretches on and on.

Mordack clears his throat. “You’d better go find that crystal. Follow the signs. Manny’s made it very clear.”

“Yes, he has.” Graham leaves slowly, quietly.

Mordack stands for a long time, waiting. And when Graham doesn’t return, not for minutes, not for hours, he sinks to his knees helplessly and stares into the water.

~*~*~

At the end of the story, all three men stand on the Floating Island. Around them, goblins crowd the audience stands, jeering and applauding and pushing each other and generally causing trouble. Graham and Manny (he prefers Manannan these days) are glaring daggers at each other. Or at least, Manannan is. Graham just looks…tired. He’s been playing all the games, performing as demanded, and drunk frankly silly amounts of wine in this final challenge. (So has Manannan, but Graham is showing his exhaustion more, doesn’t have magic to bolster him up like the wizard.) Somehow that hasn’t dulled the old king at the puzzles: he’s successfully avoided every dose of hypnotic powder hidden in some of the cups. (But so has Manannan.)

The New and Improved Duel of Wits is nearing its end. Mordack is off to one side, guarding the crystal Manannan is using as his power base, the crystal giving the wizard power and strength. Guarding it in case Graham tries something heroic and foolish.

Mordack knows what the final test is. Knows someone is going to die.

And he’s not sure who he wants it to be.

In truth, he knows he exchanged one set of chains for another when he teamed up with Manannan. Ordered to act against Daventry. To raise a kidnapped prince as a slave, to train a dragon to burn on command, to manipulate and twist an ice queen into a pawn—with nothing but abuse and threats as a reward. Cruelty and mockery. Never the soft words of a family, not from Manannan. Just bitter schemes in the night and anger in the morning. Hopeless and helpless.

But Graham hadn’t ever tried to reach out to him and rescue him, either. Not that Mordack had ever asked, ever indicated he was struggling.

And anyway, Mordack didn’t deserve rescuing. Not after what he had done to Graham in anger and hate. How he had tried so hard to rip the king’s happiness away, tried to make him feel that cold despair.

He touches the sharp slashes across his cheek. Four long and deep scars that Graham himself struck during one of Manannan’s schemes. The injury had been triggered in self-defense: Mordack would have killed Graham and his family if Graham hadn’t lashed out with magic in that one desperate, clawing moment. That strike across Mordack’s face had distracted him long enough to lose the fight. Had saved the royal family from a cruel fate, had protected the kingdom. But Mordack still wears the scars like a flag.

The pain of being slashed haunts his nightmares. The king, fending off a monster.

No more than Mordack deserves.

No monster deserves to be saved. The wolf, the fox, hated and hunted.

No, this is for the best. This is a fair contest. Whoever wins, wins, and that’ll be that.

And the last two cups are nasty. It’s a half and half chance. One will win, and one will be poisoned.

(I hope it’s Graham.)

One will die.

(I hope it’s Manannan.)

One will win the kingdom.

(I don’t know what I want.)

They can’t puzzle their way out of this. The cups are identical in every detail—other than the crucial poison lurking in one of them. Graham has the first choice. Like he did when he was young. Two cups, and a kingdom between them. Literally. A magical rendition, as real as the real country, is displayed on the table, another silent witness to this story’s end. Mordack watches the old king make a choice, watches him drink. They wait a moment, but Graham starts to smile—it tasted clear and clean. Poisonless. He’s won. The audience cheers, not caring who wins but just pleased that the game has been good.

But of course Manannan won’t play fair. He picks up the poisoned cup, waves it at Graham almost playfully—but instead of drinking it and accepting his fate like he was meant to, he tips it over.

The poison gloops out of the cup. It will drip into that magical image of Daventry, curse deeper than any other curse could. The once cheerful and bright kingdom will turn to ashes and hatred. He’d rather destroy everything than let Graham win.

Mordack can tell what happens next is an impulse. Graham lunges across the table, knocks the cup back, and all the poison absorbs into his hands in a crackle of green light. He stares at his hands, at the flashing, curling scars twirling across his worn fingers before fading to look like old scars, white and raised against his skin.

He will die. Slowly, perhaps, but that’s that. He lost. He won, but he lost.

Manannan is taken aback, but he rallies. “Huh. Nice move. I’ll accept that,” he says, and then he raises his hand, “but let’s see if I can help speed up the effects.”

His fingers snap.

Graham shrieks, weakened by poison, by stress, by wine, by everything, and helpless to defend himself. Cruel magic takes hold.

The old king is the puppet Manannan always wanted, now. The strings might not be visible to the naked eye, but Mordack has been around enough of Manannan’s magic to imagine it. He can picture the sticky green strands wrapped around the king’s arms, legs, torso, neck, tighter than any goblin rope, impossible to break. Manannan laughs as he throws the king across the stage with just a flick of his wrist, smashing him against the ground, against the tables—wine cups roll, spilling their hypnotic contents across the grass and fizzling. Mordack is sure he can hear the king’s arm break as he hurtles helplessly against the ground again and again, the snap echoing in his ears.

Graham smiled at you.

No one had ever smiled at you before. Just bared teeth and growls and insults and usually a kick or several.

Graham might be unconscious—his head has lolled forward on his chest. No smiles now.

His body is slack. The one arm is definitely broken, awkward and loose looking. There might be more broken pieces. It’s hard to be sure. Manannan is holding him high in the air now, pausing, considering what he wants to do next.

Graham waved at you.

A gentle hand, raised to greet you, to acknowledge you.

But the arm’s broken now.

“You’ve already won!” Mordack cries. “There’s no need to torture him.”

Manannan ignores him, flinging the king high and yanking him down again.

Bully. Hurting someone who can’t fight back. Thumping again and again and again.

Selfless. Graham lunged across the table to catch the cup, to lose everything and save everything. He reached out and touched your bruised arm, the lightest of affirmations. Fingers that now drip with poison, with the curse, with death—but in the goblin caves they had been full of life. They still were full of life. They protected, those hands. They had saved Daventry at such a cost.

He insulted the stories. Mordack had spent his life since that moment with that book hating how he’d been given hope and hating how that hope had been ripped from him so quickly. Hating the king.

He made a mistake. That shouldn’t be the end.

You’re not a mistake, either.

“Leave him be. I won’t ask you again.” Mordack’s voice is deep in his throat, a goblin grumble, and it seems to echo around the platform.

“I always guessed you’d side with him,” Manannan says, grinning darkly in his moment of triumph. “It was only a matter of time. You’re a useless monster, with no loyalty. I guess it’s time I held your tongue, too.” One hand still holds the king, but the other hand reaches out and snaps.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Pain erupts through Mordack’s body, hot and cold and agonizing. Crackles and snaps along his muscles, freezing him in place, blinding him, and he can’t even cry out, can’t move, can’t breathe. He scrambles to focus, fighting against an invisible enemy that has him utterly pinned down from within his soul.

Monster. Just a monster. Pitiful and weak, never better than an unwanted, abandoned human shrouded in goblin armor.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!

Manannan is enjoying watching Mordack writhe and twist. The smile grows wider, more pleased than he’s been in years. A bleak smile, barred and fanged and deadly. Graham is limp in the magic’s grip, eyes closed—can’t tell if he’s breathing or not anymore.

Mordack can feel himself losing consciousness too. It hurts to breathe. If he could just close his eyes and sleep, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. He wouldn’t feel anymore. This betrayal from his master—his brother, the goblin who swapped places with him all those years ago—wouldn’t mean anything anymore.

No loyalty.

But the king…

Maybe there were different types of monsters. Maybe there were different loyalties. Different truths. Maybe he wanted to know. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find out.

Mordack yanks against the magic that wraps around his wrists, forces his way past the pain (it couldn’t hurt worse than it already is; what’s another searing agony compared to all the rest), raises his hand high above his head, curls it into a fist, and slams down against the crystal. It shatters, shards flying in all directions, sharp edges cutting his hands. The sound is almost pleasant, a ringing chime, like music. He can feel the magic rushing through him, streaming beyond his fingers and curling into the sky.

Instantly, Manannan’s hands drop, and Graham and Mordack collapse like puppets with cut strings, and Manannan reaches out to Mordack and the crystal, screaming, but it’s too late, much, much too late, and the loosed magic is overwhelming, and it turns on him and rips through him and he loses control, loses everything, and then…the wizard is simply gone, consumed by his own magic. Gone in a puff of smoke.

Mordack pushes himself to his knees. Feels sick. But his head is quickly clearing without the magic tearing against him. He can’t rest. Not yet.

He runs to the king. To Graham. He kneels, reaches out, freezes, recoils, hesitates, reaches again, gently touches. Graham moans, barely conscious, and Mordack pushes closer, pulls the king toward him, mindful of the broken arm, of the blossoming bruises, of the pain.

The world is still. He can’t hear anything. Can’t feel anything but the weight of the king in his arms.

Graham opens his eyes. They’re blurred, dizzy, hazy.

“King? Ohh, fairy tale king?” Mordack whispers, cradling him, feeling like a child again, lost and alone in the caves. “Graham?”

“Who…?” Graham’s voice is breathless, his eyes still unfocused.

“I am…Mordon.”

Graham blinks, considers, and then the focus comes back into his eyes. Recognition blazes across his face as he remembers, as he realizes, and he smiles. “Not Mordack?”

“No, not Mordack, not anymore. Come on, easy now,” Mordon says, draping Graham’s good arm over his shoulder, helping him stand. They stumble against each other, and Graham winces, but Mordon steadies them, and he turns toward Daventry castle. “I’ve got you. You’re with me. Let’s get you home.”

[tanmoonlight]

completion| myg

| hybrid au | college au |

pairings: min yoongi/reader, future bts/reader (platonic)

In which you're looking for a roommate and find more than what you originally bargained for.

part one 》part two 》part three

Warnings: mild awkwardness, mentions anxiety, more innuendos, mentions hybrid discrimination

A/N: I have finally updated, hopefully this isn't too much of a hot mess. Also, Jintro is here,, Epiphany has arrived and perhaps I cried.

-

The move had gone well, if one ignored the mildly awkward air that settled between the two housemates. Yoongi had been wondering when the discomfort would set in between the two hybrids, and it seems it didn't take very long for them to fumble in uncomfortably dragged out periods of silence. Neither of them tried too hard to talk to each other, and from what he could tell, (Y/N) was more anxious than intentionally rude. Her pretty, surprisingly well manicured hands shook while handing him a drink and her body radiated a sort of stiffness that resembled that of a bristling cat.

Not that it was too far from the truth.

He could also smell her anxiety, the bitterness stinging his nose, reminding him of his previous visit where he'd also detected her unease. The smell was not as overpowering as one would expect, perhaps because it wasn't overwhelming her, but it did peak out from behind the natural sweetness she exuded. Even with the stiffness, she was still quite pretty and he found himself admiring her a little more closely out of curiosity. She was dressed quite comfortably, in jeans cuffed a few times at the ankles and a baggy pale blue sweatshirt. She was quite tall, he realised, standing at almost his own height.

She must've felf the heat of his eyes on her back because she noticeably stiffened but did not look back. He did not know if it was to save herself or himself from further awkwardness.

The next few hours were filled with tense glances and muffled apologies on (Y/N)'s behalf every time she bumped into him. She helped him move his things in and allowed him time to set his stuff up. The last thing they did was establish boundaries for each other as roommates. That had proven to be quite easy, as she was quite lenient as long as no property was damaged.

"I don't mind visitors, not that I have very many over, aside from Anaya," He remembered her saying, tilting her head slightly, "So you're welcome to bring friends over, Min Yoongi."

That would not be happening soon - at all, he thought to himself. He did not want to expose her to the sextet of lovely but agonisingly loud men he called friends, lest he wanted to startle her.

Once all was seemingly fixed, (Y/N) excused herself to run some errands, leaving Yoongi on his own with a newly added key to his Kumamon keychain. He allowed himself to slump over on the couch, laying in silence, no screeching of chairs and baby rattles, no obnoxiously loud bulldozer footsteps from above or cacophonies of warbled moans. A tiny smothered screech of relief left him, along with strings of thankful words, startling the fat cat seated on a large black beanbag.

The only response he got was an insulted mrrow from said fat cat, who quickly resettled himself and went back to sleep.

-

A few weeks had passed since Min Yoongi had moved in and it was going far better than (Y/N) expected. He was tidy enough; although she did occasionally catch a glimpse of scattered clothes on his floor and a few empty boxes he had yet to get rid of, but she kept her nose out of that, he wasn't disruptive at all and Poe seemed to tolerate him, at bare minimum. They didn't see too much of each other, which might be for the best, she mused, as they were both unbelievably busy. (Y/N) spent most of her time managing her studies as a sophomore, her job at a clinic, the weekly volunteer work at a hybrid shelter all while attempting to keep herself sane. She'd been lucky to have a few days off when she'd met Yoongi, but that was long over and she was back on relying on the carefully masked neuroticism caused by her awful sleeping schedule to keep her running, as well as the chewy breakfast bars and cold coffee that ran through her veins.

Yoongi was not much different than she was, he'd find himself spending hours working on unfinished songs to upload to his SoundCloud and finishing hastily written essays for a music theory class as well as making sure his senior project was as proper as possible. On top of school, he juggled a paid internship at a small entertainment company, working on projects that were not quite to his liking. The artists he was tasked had a tendency of being snobs, despite being newbies, and lacked any kind of vision and passion. He could not count the amount of times he'd wanted to slam his head through his keyboard, praying for a concussion to avoid listening to that disaster. In short, the nights he could have spent sleeping were spent perfecting his music and others, as well.

A good portion of their interactions were centered around extremes. They'd find themselves both emerging from their respective caves to refill on coffee and maybe, nibble on a cookie. Conversations, while not necessary, became common.

"Why are you still up Min Yoongi?" She questioned, bleary eyes peering from behind thick lenses. Her ears were noticeable droopy, indicating her exhaustion.

"Why are you still up?" He responded, opening the fridge to grab a bottle or two of cold coffee. She looked far more tired than he did.

She hummed in response, sipping on her own scalding beverage, "What're you working on now?" She pushed forward a plate of Mexican sweet bread, encouraging him to sit down.

He noticed she had a tendency of doing that, gently coaxing him into taking breaks longer than the three minutes it took for ramen to cook.

He sat across from her, opening a bottle of his coffee and taking a long sip before answering, "I'm trying to finish a track for one of the idols I'm working with," He paused, leaning over to grab a piece of sugary bread, "I could have been finished a few days ago but he insisted that it wasn't good enough for him." His words became grumbled towards the end of his sentence, eyebrows scrunched up gently and lips forming a small pout. His ears twitched in tandom with his tail as he nibbled on the bread.

Their late night coffee runs were quickly becoming something (Y/N) looked forward to, despite the dragging of her eyelids and the slumping of her body. For one, late night coffee was heavenly, even if it resulted in her crashing after an hour or two of shakiness. Second, it allowed her an opportunity to truly get to know the enigma that was Min Yoongi without the anxiety that swallowed her up during full consciousness. While she often expected him to ignore her questions, he never did. He would answer after some deliberation, his deep voice coming slightly fragmented from the frequent pausing he did in his speech. She found that he was quite warm, especially when he spoke about his friends and music. His eyes would soften from steel to oozing dark chocolate. When he got particularly passionate, he'd begin to enunciate his words with appropriately vivid hand movements while she listened.

In all, Min Yoongi was not as intimidating as she had expected. If anything, he was quite cute when he pouted.

"Is this the same guy from last time?"

"Yes, it is. With the amount of time he spends insulting my work, you'd think he'd piss off by now."

"What is his name? We don't want problematic favs in this household."

". . . I'd rather not disgrace your virgin ears."

"I heard you cussing someone out over the phone because they woke you up."

"Don't poke the sleeping bear, its the law of the jungle." He tsked, reaching for more bread, tail flickering gently in direct contradiction to his words.

"I can't believe you're hiding this man's identity, now I have to go through your company's website. BigHit was it?" She sighed wistfully, pulling out her phone.

"If you go blind, that's on you."

"I can't get any blinder than I currently am! If anything, he'd be doing me a favor. I wouldn't have to pay to see." She momentarily poked at her thick lenses.

"Capitalism at its worst. You'd rather be blind than pay to see."

"Prescription glasses are surprisingly expensive okay? Not that you'd know, with your fake ass five dollar hipster glasses."

"This is what the government wants, to pit the middle class against each other over monetary value."

"Are you sure you're not a liberal arts major? Also, stop distracting me, I'm really trying to find this dude. . ."

After a moment of contemplation, Yoongi gave a faux defeated sigh, "Since you want to know so bad, I'll tell you. But I'm not responsible for the loss of brain cells you may experience."

"I can't lose what I don't have anymore."

"Well, I lost five years off my lifespan just thinking about it."

"Min Yoongi, its just a name."

"Alright. His stage name is G-Spot Genie." He dropped the monstrosity with little to no regret, sipping his coffee.

(Y/N) said nothing for a moment, giving him enough time to correct himself, "Please say sike. Please."

Yoongi shrugged, perfectly encapsulating the nonchalance of a big cat.

"I. . . take it back, it is possible to lose what you don't have. Because he must've lost his damn mind."

He smirked, "So, what are your woes? Given that you look like you're about to pass out."

He wasn't wrong, but then again when didn't she look stressed. It seemed as though she was permanently set on overdrive, constantly bustling about either typing away on her dinky laptop or taking notes and reading ahead for her classes.

"I have a group project." She pushed out, her head falling to rest on her palm, "Just my luck I'm stuck with people who specialise in procrastination. Can they not do that on their own time? Also, you'd think people would know by now how to answer an e-mail, but apparently they don't know how to do that either!"

"What class is this for? Is the deadline soon?"

"The group project is for my hybrid studies class. We have a few more weeks to get it done but two weeks have already gone by and they've yet to actually plan with me. Plus! They keep shooting down my ideas and this one girl keeps stomping all over my last nerve." At this point her tail began to flicker quite violently in agitation and her eyes regained some semblance of frustrated awareness.

"What'd she do to make the kitty cat hiss?" The words left his mouth quite quickly, dry but playful and a part of his died internally. Much to his luck, she didn't catch it.

"For one, she was all over the guy in our group and I mean, all over. I was surprised she didn't pull his pants down right then and there, and I mean, her promiscuity is not the issue, ya know?" She was talking a bit fast, nearly rambling, "It's just kind of rude to act as if I don't exist, I'm also not into exhibitionism. When she isn't ignoring me, she's glaring at me and attempting to insult my intelligence. Like, I breathed??"

Yoongi, while not finding amusement in her frustration, did come to find her ranting kind of cute. It was endearing to see her lips form a pout while her face morphed into something other than indifference.

"Sometimes breathing is the biggest insult. She probably feels threatened or something, is she a hybrid?" Hybrids were known to be quite territorial.

"No, she's human, well they're both human." At that Yoongi exchange a brief look with (Y/N), words were not necessary to express that particular point. As much as hybrids have been engrained into society, the response was not always positive. Humans could still legally own a hybrid, further pushing the notion that they were inferior to humanity. Hybrid trafficking ran rampant and hate crimes were fairly common as well. In all, not everyone saw them as people.

"Well, (Y/N), you still have some time left so you should actually get some sleep before you pass out. Don't be stupid, you can finish working on it tomorrow and then tell your professor that they didn't do shit." He shrugged, voice coming out as a soft rumble. While his voice offered a suggestion, his eyes gave a command.

She sat up a little straighter once she caught the look in his eyes, they were sharper than before. A small shudder ran through her, "You're right, I'll do that. Now, please stop looking at me like that, you look constipated." She pushed aside the instinctive need to obey and focused on subduing the animal in her.

His nose scrunched up a bit as he sighed, taking one last sip of his coffee, watching as she finished up and set the cup in the sink. After a brief exchange of goodnight Min Yoongi, don't stay up too late! & goodnight (Y/N), he watched as she padded away with all the elegance of a feline. Once her door shut, he turned back around in his seat and mentally prepared himself to go back and stay up a few more hours.

Thank whatever deity was above that he didn't have class tomorrow, he could sleep in all he wanted.

[etirabys]

I just read this fascinating paper about clientelization for my class: Ronald Dore's Goodwill and the Spirit of Market Capitalism (1983), which talks about how some submarkets in Japan tend to consist of entities that deal with each other on a personal and recurring basis, far more than other developed economies (at the time). Dore talks about a dynamic he calls relational contracting: economic relationships that are treated as personal relationships (even between large entities), where 'someone else is cheaper' is not an acceptable reason to cut an ongoing relation but 'you're not dealing with me sincerely/with goodwill' is, where prices/orders tend to flexible and favorable towards the party who has a market disadvantage (e.g. only has a few major customers), where biannual gifts are an expected part of the business relationship.

The paper is really interesting and I quoted a lot of it below, but Dore is not a very good writer, and I've taken slightly more than minimal liberties in typing this out, for clarity and relevance. Below: some quotes about zaibatsu, national loyalty and astonishing resistance to imports when domestic producers are struggling, a hypothesis that more personal / trust-based business relations appear in affluent economies where consumers care more about quality than price. Caveat: paper is several decades old, and I don’t know enough about econ to judge whether any of this is obviously bullshit.

On zaibatsu:

Competition between Japanese firms is intense, but only in markets which are (a) consumer markets and (b) expanding. ... What does concern us here are markets in producers' goods, in intermediates. And for many such commodities markets can hardly be said to exist. Take steel, for instance, and one of its major uses for automobiles. The seven car firms buy their steel through trading companies, each from two or three of the major steel companies, in proportions which vary little from year to year. Prices, in this market, are set by the annual contract between the champions.

It is the concentration of such relationships which is the dominant characteristic of the famous large enterprise groups, known [to foreigners] as zaibatsu. These groups are quite distinct from the hierarchical groupings of affiliates and subsidiaries around some of the giant individual firms like Hitachi. The Mitsubishi group, for example, has no clear hierarchical structure. In its core membership of 28 firms, there is a certain amount of intra-group share ownership – on average about 26% of total equity widely dispersed throughout the group in 3~4% shares. There is a tiny amount of interlocking directorships – about 3% in all directors' seats. And most of the firms have the group bank as their lead bank, and bank of last pleading resort, but that bank provides on average less than 20% of all loan finance to group firms. The only thing which formally defines the identity of the group is the lunch on the last Friday of the month when the Presidents of every company in the group get together, often to listen to a lecture on, say, the oil market in the 1990s, to discuss matters like political party contributions, sometimes to hear news of, or give blessings to, some new joint venture...

The main raison d'etre of these groups is as networks of preferential, stable, obligated, bilateral trading relationships, networks of relational contracting. They are not conglomerates because they have no central board or holding company. They are not cartels because they are all in diverse lines of business. Each group has a bank and a trading company, a steel firm, an automobile firm, a major chemical firm, a shipbuilding and plant engineering firm, and so on... Hence, trade in producer goods within the group can be brisk.

A statistic that demonstrates how dominant exchange/trade across continuing relations are:

The starting point of this discussion of relational contracting was the search for reasons to explain why it made sense for the [Japanese] spinning firms to coordinate production neither through hierarchy (integration of economic entities into one firm), nor through the market (in the normal sense of continuously pursuing the best buy), but through 'relational contracting'. It was, I said, because such arrangements could be relied on in Japan more than in most other economies. There is one striking statistic that illustrates the extent to which it is relied on. The volume of wholesale transactions in Japan is no less than four times as great as the volume of retail transactions. For France, the multiple is 1.2; for Britain, West Germany and the USA the figure is between 1.6 and 1.9.

On loyalty and nationalism:

The Japanese economy is riddled with misallocation. Take the market for steel which I mentioned earlier. Brazil and Korea can now land some kinds of steel in Japan more cheaply than Japanese producers can supply it. But very little of it is sold. Japan can remain as pure as the driven snow in GATT terms – no trigger prices, minimal tariffs, no quotas – and still have a kind of natural immunity to steel imports. None of the major trading companies would touch Brazilian or Korean steel, especially now that things are going so badly for their customers, the Japanese steel companies. Small importers are willing to handle modest lots. But they will insist on their being landed at backwater warehouses away from where any domestic steel is going out, so that the incoming steel is not seen by a steel company employee. If that happens, the lorries taking the steel out might be followed to their destination. And the purchaser, if he turned out to be a disloyal customer, would be marked down for less than friendly treatment next time a boom brings a seller's market.

On how the kind of personal obligations that drive relational contracting can be beneficial to an economy:

– The Japanese system of relational contracting has merits which, I suggest, more than compensate for its price-distorting consequences. The compensatory advantages which go with the disadvantage of inflexible wage costs are reasonably well known. In a career employment system people accept that they have to be learning new jobs; it makes more sense for firms to invest in training... If a firm's market is declining, it is less likely to respond simply by cutting costs to keep profits up, more likely to search desperately for new product lines to keep busy the workers it is committed to employing anyway. Hence a strong growth dynamism.

– The relative security of such relations encourages investment in supplying firms. The spread of robots has been especially rapid in Japan's engineering subcontracting firms in recent years.

– The relationships of trust and mutual dependency make for a more rapid flow of information.

– A by-product of the system is a general emphasis on quality. What holds the relation together is the sense of mutual obligation. If one side fails to live up to his obligations, the other side is released from his. According to the relational contract ethic, it maybe difficult to ditch a supplier because, for circumstances beyond his control, he is not giving you the best buy. It is perfectly proper to ditch him if he is not giving the best buy and not even trying to match the best buy. A supplier who consistently fails to meet quality requirements is in danger of losing even an established relational contract.

A hypothesis that relational contracting arises in affluent economies, and that we ought to see less neoclassical profit-maximizing behavior in firms and individuals in well-off societies:

In the British textile trade, Marks and Spencers is well known for its relational contracting, squeezing suppliers a bit in times of trouble but not ditching them as long as they are maintaining quality standards. In the supermarket world, Sainsbury's have the same reputation, supposedly very different from that of Tesco's, which believes that frequent switching of supplies encourages others to keep the price down.

Try adding together the following thoughts.

– Marks and Spencers is well known for one thing besides relational contracting, namely that it bases its appeal on product quality more than on price.

– There is an apparent relation between a quality emphasis and relational contracting in Japan.

– Sainsburys is up-market compared to Tesco, which is for keen pricers.

– Japan's consumer markets are generally reckoned to be more middle-class, more quality sensitive, and less price-sensitive than Britains. Textile people have given me rough estimates that if one divides the clothing market crudely into two groups, one that is fastidious about quality and not too conscious of price, and one that looks at price rather than neatness of stitching, in Britain the proportions are 25:75, in Japan 60:40.

– Japan of the 1920s, and again in the postwar period, was much more of a cut-throat jungle than it is today. Not the ethics of relational contracting nor the emphasis on product quality nor the lifetime employment system, seem to have been characteristic of earlier periods of Japanese industrialization.

Add all these fragments together an an obvious hypothesis emerges that relational contracting is a phenomenon of affluence. It is when people become better off and the market-stall haggle gives way to [a world where] best buys are defined more by quality than by price, that relational contracting comes into its own.

It does so for two reasons: first because quality assurance has to depend more on trust. You always know whether the butcher is charging you sixpence or sevenpence. But if you don't know the difference between sirloin and rump, and you think your guests might, then you have to trust your butcher. Also, I suspect, when affluence reduces price pressures, any tendencies to prefer a relationship of friendly stability to the poker-game pleasures of adversarial bargaining – tendencies which might have been formerly suppressed by the anxious concerns not to lose a penny – are able to assert themselves.

Applying this hypothesis to explain the shift in employment contracts in the West:

(...) The fragmentary evidence about relational contracting in interfirm trading relations in Britain is complemented by evidence of its growth in the labour market. Not only Britain, but Europe in general – even the USA to a lesser extent – are no longer countries where employers hire and fire without compunction. In industries like steel, job tenures are valued at well over a year's wage. More generally, labour mobility has been falling for 15 years. More attention to career promotion within the firm and managerial doctrines about 'work involvement' in the enterprise exemplify the transformation of the employment contract into a more long-term, more diffuse commitment.

[starwarsnonsense]

The Last Jedi Trailer - A Shot-by-Shot, Spoiler-Filled Breakdown

Okay, I can tell that I’m going to get no peace until I’ve got this out of my system, so I’m going to aim to do a shot-by-shot breakdown of the brand-new and absolutely flipping fantastic Last Jedi teaser trailer.

This breakdown will be heavily informed by spoilers from sites such as Making Star Wars, and I cannot stress it enough that you should not proceed if you want to remain pure.

(n.b. I don’t touch upon the dialogue here - none of it is part of the scenes shown, and the dialogue really deserves a breakdown of its own.)

With that said, proceed to the breakdown - if you dare...

Shot #1 - Rey appears to have just come out of the small cave behind her. She’s distressed and overcome by what she has experienced. She is still in her Resistance outfit and has the three buns hairstyle (from toy packaging, we know that she later has long hair with a single bun and different clothes). I’m guessing this is a shot from the first act, just after Rey has her equivalent of Luke’s vision of beheading Vader in the cave from ESB. 

Shot #2 - A lovely establishing shot of Ahch-To as the sun sets. My guess is that this is an establishing shot used to set the mood for the sequence where Kylo and his cohorts pay Rey and Luke a visit.

Shot #3 - Another Ahch-To establishing shot. It wouldn’t surprise me if this is one of the first shots in the film, as the colour grading reminds me of that of the final scene of The Force Awakens.

Shot #4 - Rey facing the sea on Ahch-To. She seems to be tense, as if she’s preparing for something. My guess is that she knows Kylo is coming, and is preparing herself for his arrival and the inevitable battle. The fight takes place at dusk, according to reports, which matches well with the darkening sky seen here. Some people have speculated that this is tied to the scene where Rey fights a sea monster, but I find this unlikely since MSW have reported that she wears a black cloak for said sequence. This is presumably the black cloak/poncho Rey is seen in below:

(A photo of Rey in The Last Jedi shown at the SWCO TLJ panel.)

Shot #5 - A training shot of Rey levitating rocks. This again seems to be from early in the film, since the sleeve belongs to Rey’s Resistance outfit.

Shot #6 - I’m 99% sure this is Leia (seen from the back) at some kind of Resistance command centre. The silhouette, intriguingly, calls to mind far more sinister imagery - in particular, the silhouettes of her father Darth Vader and her son Kylo Ren. It’s possible that this is about her acknowledging her dark-side lineage through her clothing, in the sense that she’s not denying it anymore (I don’t for a moment think Leia is turning to the dark side in this movie) - I expect there to be a general theme of characters learning about their lineage and coming to embrace it, rather than suppress it. (Remember Lor San Tekka’s “you cannot deny the truth that is your family” line? I think that’s going to prove highly prescient.) Her costume here seems to be a good match for what Carrie is wearing in this behind-the-scenes shot shown during the panel:

(Rian Johnson directing Carrie Fisher on the set of The Last Jedi.)

Shot #7 - As far as I’m concerned, this is one of the most intriguing shots in the trailer. Kylo’s mask has been shattered, and is surrounded by shards of broken glass. You can also see smoke curling up from the fragments, indicating that the mask was attacked with a lightsaber or a blaster. Since Kylo’s mask was left on the bridge in TFA, this is presumably the upgraded or modified version brought up by MSW here. The glass suggests to me that the helmet might have been kept in some kind of display case, perhaps being perceived as a relic of an ancient Force user. It certainly points against its having been in regular use. The fact that the helmet has been shattered into fragments might - and I really mean might - represent Kylo abandoning the mask for good, especially if it comes to pass that he rejects Snoke and the First Order and decides to fashion a new identity for himself.

I have also seen it suggested that the destruction of the mask could indicate that Kylo rejects the mask because he now considers himself to be a stable embodiment of darkness, and no longer needs to wear a mask to affect evil. I don’t agree with this interpretation, the main reason being that Kylo has previously been shown to attack/destroy things when he is in a state of heightened rage or distress (e.g. attacking the console when he learns the droid has escaped/attacking the interrogation chair when he learns that Rey is gone). The mask represents and embodies the Kylo Ren persona, so - as far as I’m concerned - an attack on the mask represents an attack on Kylo Ren himself. This reminds me of an old comment Adam Driver made to Larry King. When asked if Kylo Ren survived The Last Jedi, Adam replied "Depends on what your idea of living is” - based on that, my bet is currently on Kylo Ren’s death and Ben Solo’s return.

Shot #8 - This appears to be the interior of the tree on Ahch-To, which can be seen clearly in the behind-the-scenes shot of the Longcross backlot below. Inside the tree is a collection of books. We know from the EU that Luke has been hunting for lore on the Jedi and the Force ever since ROTJ ended. It wouldn’t surprise me if these books represent Luke’s most significant find - the Dead Sea Scrolls of the Force. In relation to this, I strongly recommend reading the recent Star Wars News Net article on Luke’s lore-hunting adventures, and the dramatic and transformative impact of what he discovers. The spoilers we have about the importance of ancient lore to this movie - along with Luke’s “it’s time for the Jedi to end” line - offer strong support to the idea that Luke discovered something massive about the nature of the Force that caused him to completely modify his understanding of it and lose his faith in the righteousness of the Jedi.

(The Force tree photographed at Longross.)

Shot #9 - This is presumably what’s inside one of the books previously shown. It reminds me of two things - the star maps that Empire’s End keeps on harping on about (please see @holocroning’s excellent post on this for more info), and the symbol of the Jedi Order. I’m guessing that this manuscript in particular is the key to ancient knowledge of the Force that turns Luke’s world upside down and causes him to reassess everything he thought he knew. The owner of the gloved hand is unknown, but it’s possible that it’s Luke (given that he would presumably need a glove to cover his mechanical hand).

(The symbol of the Jedi Order.)

Shot #10 - Luke is seen training Rey on the cliffside on Ahch-To. Again, it appears to be first act stuff, going by Rey’s silhouette. As others have pointed out, zooming in on the image reveals what seems to be a tiny figure perched atop the tall rock beside Rey. It’s well within the realm of possibility that this figure is Yoda’s Force ghost, participating in the supervision of Rey’s training. (Frank Oz has previously strongly indicated that he’s part of The Last Jedi, so this is really no surprise.)

Shot #11 - This is Crait, the Resistance planet recently discussed by Making Star Wars in a spoiler report. The Resistance ships are flying towards the AT-ATs (most likely the gorilla-esque ones described by Making Star Wars here) seen far in the distance. The ships appear to be splitting open the earth to release the brilliant red gas contained beneath the surface. Location filming for this was done on salt flats in Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia. Rian Johnson cleared up what’s going on here in an interview with Entertainment Weekly:

“It’s way out there. It’s very remote. It’s uncharted,” says Johnson. “It’s a mineral planet and so there are mines on it.” The director (previously best known for Brick and Looper) noted how there are some “beautiful design elements and I hope some really unique ones that we’re able to bring into it.”

The shot of these small ships darting toward gigantic walkers mimics the snowy Hoth battle sequence from The Empire Strikes Back, but this white crust is salt. “The white dusting of salt over this red, ruby-ish mineral base,” he says.

According to Johnson, Crait is the site of an “an old rebel base there that’s now abandoned” and the planet was one of the first things he had in mind when planning The Last Jedi.

“It ends up playing a key role in the movie,” he says, adding that the Resistance fighters — flying in the skimmers seen in the trailer — “show up where they have to deal with a very pressing and immediate threat.”

Shot #12 - This is Finn in his recovery suit. This is pretty much guaranteed to be a shot from right at the start of the film, when we see him recovering from his injuries. Making Star Wars describe this scene here.

Shot #13 - This is clearly a Resistance outpost (in SPAAAAAAACE) under attack. Poe and BB-8 run towards the danger as others run away. I’m guessing the Resistance start the movie here, having abandoned D’Qar. Poe, going by his flight suit, is presumably running to get to his ship...

Shot #14 - ... only to encounter a little trouble when said ship is blown up in front of him. MSW have recently discussed how Poe has an upgraded X-wing in The Last Jedi, and this shot does a good job of summarising why he had an excuse to get an upgrade.

Shot #15 - This appears to be the Millennium Falcon taking down First Order TIE fighters. The most interesting thing here is the setting - you can see the sea here, so I’m pretty confident that this shot shows a battle in the skies of Ahch-To (though it’s also possible that it might be Canto Bight (the planet/city represented by the location filming in Dubrovnik), which we know is on the coast). If this does happen in the skies above Ahch-To, I’m guessing this sequence is nothing to do with Kylo Ren’s arrival, which appears to happen as the sun is going down and darkness is closing in. I could see this shot representing the First Order storming the planet after Kylo Ren’s defeat/capture, but that is largely my conjecture.

Shot #16 - Notice the dark sky again here - my bet is on this showing Rey heading in to fight Kylo Ren after he arrives on the island. Again, Rey is still in her Resistance gear, which supports our pre-existing belief that the Kylo/Rey battle takes place in the first act.

Shot #17 - MA BOY. Kylo is obviously looking very menacing right here. I also find it interesting that he looks exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept for days (a state Celebration attendees can probably empathise with). It wouldn’t surprise me if he chases after Rey as soon as he is sufficiently recovered to move, but isn’t recovered/prepared enough to face both Rey and his uncle. There is a huge blaze behind him. MSW have speculated about Kylo setting the tree on Ahch-To on fire, and while I wasn’t sold on that before I now think that’s more likely to be the case. I’m becoming more convinced that there’s going to be a substantial time skip between act one and act two of the movie, with the burnt-out tree representing the passage of time (along with Rey’s change in costume/hairstyle).

Kylo turns his lightsaber slightly here as if he’s making a demonstration/taking a stand. I expect this shot will probably precede a highly dramatic confrontation with Luke and/or Rey.

However, it’s also worth nothing that there’s something very odd going on with Kylo’s scar here, and that is that it seems to be in a different place from where it is seen in other shots of him in The Last Jedi. In this screencap, the scar bisects Kylo’s eyebrow. In other shots (see below), it seems to be more above his nose, which is more accurate to the position of the lightsaber strike in The Force Awakens. It’s possible that the image of Kylo above is actually from some heightened, anticipatory vision, where Rey imagines an almost demonic Kylo chasing her to Ahch-To to take his vengeance. It’s also possible that the screencap shows Kylo back at the destruction of Luke’s temple, which we know was set aflame. (All wild theories aside, it’s also possible it’s just a continuity error.)

(Kylo in The Last Jedi - an image from Battlefront II is above, and an image of Kylo from TLJ panel is below.)

Shot #18 - This proves that we’re returning to the moment from the vision in The Force Awakens where Luke places his hand on R2. Luke appears to have sunk to his knees besides R2, presumably heartbroken upon discovering that his temple has been burnt and his students murdered. The scale of the destruction here says to me that this is not a one-man job. I don’t believe Kylo pulled this off alone - there was either some kind of large-scale student mutiny or Kylo had the firepower of the First Order behind him.

(The flashback to Luke and R2 from The Force Awakens.)                                                                                                  

Shot #19 - Phasma is shown storming (what I guess is) a Resistance base with a squad of what I’m assuming are the Executioner Stormtroopers described here by MSW. I expect that this is a continuation of shot #14, serving as a parallel to Vader sweeping into Hoth just after the Rebels have abandoned the outpost.

Shots #20 and 21 - These shots seem to tie into a recent Making Star Wars spoiler report on Laura Dern’s character, which reveals that she is a fashionista/Resistance Admiral (named ‘Holdo’). MSW describe the ships and the battle they’re involved in as follows:

However it also sounds like the new Resistance ships [Admiral Holdo] brings to the fleet are formidable. They’re sort of an abstract design but they have ball turrets on them just like the Low Altitude Assault Transports from Attack of the Clones. Supposedly you can see the Resistance fighters in them as they blast TIEs and go up against Supreme Leader Snoke’s Mega Destroyer.

Shot #22 - This shot appears to be from the interior of the cave that we see the exterior of in shot #1, and may be part of the same scene. When you alter the contrast of this screencap, it becomes clear that this shot shows the interior of a tree rather than the rocky walls of a cave - that makes it likely that its the same location as the one with the library with ancient manuscripts seen in shot #8. You can also see Rey's staff leaning against the wall, which suggests that Luke is probably looking back at her. Luke has clearly changed his costume from what he was wearing at the end of The Force Awakens - the costume appears to be more practical than the quasi-ceremonial robes he was wearing at the end of TFA and will be wearing at the start of TLJ, which suggests that some time must pass between the start of TLJ and this scene.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #116: BETRAYAL!

October, 1973

Here we go! Part three of the Avengers/Defenders War! Well, technically parts 2 and 3. For some reason.

So you just know that as soon as she tells him not to fall in the volcano that both he and the Surfer are going to be wrestling around in it like its mud.

Lil’ Vision doesn’t approve of Wanda being so close to an active volcano but this is only the typical cover exaggeration. In the comic, her situation is a lot stupider.

And lets just say that its not the only way in which this cover is telling fibs.

So, last time: the Avengers had decided to pay a visit to Dr. Strange to get him to explain the strange disappearance of Black Knight.

This time:

Dr. Strange politely but firmly discourages any visitors.

(Also happy ten year anniversary, Avengers!)

But seriously. Dr. Strange put a spell on his door so that if any touched the latch, they’d be sent hurtling through the air. Its safe to say that he probably wasn’t expecting any packages today.

This also doesn’t do much to endear the Avengers to the doctor.

Although what gets Iron Man’s goat is that Dr. Strange claims to do magic stuff. Which is dumb. Magic is fake and dumb. But rigging repulsors or whatever scientific explanation to your door doesn’t inspire trust.

Thor just starts banging on the door. And Dr. Strange’s manservant Wong answers to tell the Avengers to fuck off. The doctor is busy with vital research and does not wish to be disturbed.

Thor really doesn’t like when doors are slammed in his face, so he huffs and puffs and CHOOM!s the door down with Mjolnir.

If the Avengers are so impetuous that mystical warnings and straight up telling them to get lose won’t work, Wong will just beat them up.

Except Mantis. Mantis happens. Bye Wong.

And then as the door Mantis just flung Wong into opens, "several Avengerial eyes snap wide at what they see within that darkened chamber.”

There’s some new vocab for you.

And then a new spell blows all the Avengers out of Strange’s house.

But the Avengers have seen enough. Their Avengerial eyes saw the Black Knight, turned to stone, with Dr. Strange determined to keep them out.

So Thor yells at nothing that the Avengers aren’t licked, nosiree, they’ll be back once they figure out how to fight all this stupid magic.

Meanwhile inside Dr. Strange’s house, he has no idea what has been going on with the Avengers at all. He knows there was a disturbance but the mystic seal he placed around this room took care of it and that’s all he cares about.

Let me just state here that if he had talked to the Avengers now, several issues of story and a / War would not have happened.

Anyway, Strange recaps the Evil Eye for the other Defenders and for the readers. The Evil Eye belonged to Prester John of Avalon, who was accidentally woken up from a 700-year snooze by the Human Torch and Wyatt Wingfoot.

And then Johnny stole the Evil Eye because he believed it could be used to destroy the Great Refuge that Crystal of the Inhumans was imprisoned within.

Except the Evil Eye was building up energy toward an explosive overload so Prester John and Wyatt Wingfoot had to follow the Human Torch and shoot the Evil Eye out of his hand with a polarizer gun.

And then it exploded. The Evil Eye, I mean.

But instead of being destroyed, it was split into six identical fragments and scattered to Osaka, Japan; Rurutu, French Polynesia; Ft. Wayne, US; Los Angeles, Also US; Monterrey, Mexico; and Sucre, Bolivia.

Apparently this was how the Evil Eye was designed by the people of Avalon. So that anyone who used the device at full power wouldn’t get to use it a second time.

Long story short, Johnny Storm ruins everything.

Anyway, six fragments. Six Defenders. Pretty self-explanatory really. Hawkeye and Valkyrie will take the southern two fragments. Silver Surfer and Namor will cover Rurutu and Osaka respectively. Hulk will jump hella high to Los Angeles. And Dr. Strange will guard the Black Knight and head to Ft. Wayne when another Defender returns to take his post.

And then they split up.

But meanwhile: the villains. Dread Dormammu and also somewhat dreaded Loki.

But Loki is having second thoughts. First, Dormammu hasn’t restored his vision yet. But second, it just struck Loki that if Dormammu conquers Earthrealm, he’ll have access to Asgard. And Loki may be a villain but he’s a proud Asgardian as well. Clearly only he should conquer Asgard. Not some dude with his head on fire.

And since he’s currently banned from Asgard, that only leaves one person he can turn to for help. But boy does it make him Thor to consider.

So Loki projects himself in front of the Avengers. Not that he can tell. He’s blind. But he loudly requests that whoever he’s talking to bring his half-brother to him.

He doesn’t bother explaining who his half-brother is but luckily he did appear in front of Thor.

Thor immediately starts yelling at him about deceit and trickery. Because family.

But he’s wise to do so because Loki can’t help himself. He lies. Because otherwise he’d have to admit some amount of tiny blame for everything. And that’s ridiculous.

Instead, he tells the Avengers that the Defenders have hatched a plot that threatens the universe. And describes them in the least flattering way possible.

Dr. Strange, who hides himself away from most mortal men.

Valkyrie. Remember her? She kicked your asses.

Hulk. I mean, everybody knows he hates humanity.

Namor. He’s always declaring war on the surface world and yelling Imperious Rex.

Silver Surfer. Man, he is so bitter at being stuck on Earth. Bitter enough for evil? Yes. That exact amount.

And finally, Hawkeye. Would you instantly believe a trickster god telling you that your friend has turned against you? When it’s Hawkeye you would!

Before his projection ends, Loki tells them where the Defenders have headed. But can’t or doesn’t tell them which Defender go where. So the Avengers pretty much split up arbitrarily.

Captain America goes to Japan. Because he hasn’t been to Japan in a while.

Wanda and Vision will go to Rurutu. Probably to scope it out for their honeymoon.

Swordsman will go to Bolivia. He feels bad about the time that he tried to conquer South America.

Mantis wants to stay by Swordsman’s side but she has a hunch that Black Panthe will need her aid at Ft. Wayne.

Thor will go to California. Its the most central location so if any of the other Avengers need help, he’ll be close at hand.

And Iron Man will go to Mexico because its the last one left.

And then they split up. In... I can’t tell if those are Quinjets or not.

So we reach part 2. Er, chapter 3: The Silver Surfer vs. the Vision and the Scarlet Witch!

Nice logo face off.

So anyway, with Tomie the board, Silver Surfer got to Rurutu in no time but now he’s been flying around the island dozens of times without being able to find the Evil Eye fragment.

And then some probably offensive natives start worshiping him as a shiny volcano god.

He’s not all about that but them mentioning the volcano reminds him that the volcano is the one place he has not checked. So then he takes off.

The natives figure he’s trying to lead them somewhere and follow him.

Silver Surfer can fly through stars so a volcano isn’t that much of a big deal for him, in terms of just wading into the lava. Still, the Evil Eye isn’t going to be easy to find. He’ll have to handle this delicately by blasting the shit out of the volcano.

Meanwhile, Scarlet Witch and Vision arrive over Rurutu. In a weirdly flying saucer model of Quinjet. I swear, the Quinjets change every time I see them.

Despite the plausibility of Loki’s story, a story told by a trickster god mind you, Vision is having doubts. He doesn’t want to attack without exploring peaceful alternatives and maybe giving conversation a chance.

So he flies off to scout ahead.

Scarlet Witch thinks he’s being too logical. The pieces all fit together. The Black Knight was taken away by Dr. Strange and others in costumes. The Hulk, Namor, and Valkyrie have all been Avengers foes before, Silver Surfer has struck out at mankind in melodramatic snits as often as he has helped it, and Hawkeye is Hawkeye and believes that the Avengers have wronged him.

Meanwhile, Silver Surfer accidentally triggered an eruption by blasting the shit out of the volcano. 

The eruption blows Scarlet Witch’s Quinjet out of the sky. Because she was flying way too close to an active volcano.

Vision spots her falling and swoops down to catch her, talking the whole time about how he’ll be able to save her if he acts rather than talks. Talking is a free action, Vision.

Setting her down on the ground, Vision sees that she has some second-degree burns and seared lungs but she’s not permanently damaged. And then he sees Silver Surfer crawling out of the volcano, wondering what’s going on.

And Vision flips his shit.

See, Scarlet Witch said he was too logical. But when it comes to times where she’s hurt or endangered, he’s a bit too emotional. So he goes from logical to livid in the space of three panels.

And he just tackles Silver Surfer right into the volcano.

I guess at full density, Vision can withstand lava.

Also, Silver Surfer is confused by what Vision is doing here and why Vision just tackled him into a volcano. But neither can hear the other over the roaring volcano. And as the caption box notes, waist-deep in molten lava is no place for a meaningful dialogue anyway.

I sort of disagree. If you could stand waist-deep in molten lava without dying, you should definitely have at least one conversation in such a place. If only so you could tell people that you did. Although you might have to yell.

Anyway, productive exchange of ideas is definitely not going to be happening here. Not with Vision trying to drown Silver Surfer in lava. Which is confusing on a number of levels. I mean, first, unless Silver Surfer is denser than molten rock, good luck keeping him under.  Second, does he even need to breathe?

Not that it matters because the Surfer summons Tomie to PLOW! right into Vision.

Not being much of an aggressive person usually, the Surfer decides to surf on out of there. But he runs into the crater wall due to the smoke.

This is not a proud moment for either of them, really.

And yet, kind of cool. Put it on a rock album cover.

Meanwhile, the definitely offensive natives have taken the volcanic eruption to mean that their shiny, shiny god needs to be appeased. And hey, they just so happen to have found a strange girl lying unconscious near the volcano. Shouldn’t look a gift sacrifice in the mouth.

They place her in the path of the lava flow. Once she’s sacrificed, then everything will be better forever.

Meanwhile inside the volcano, the dumb two continue to fight inside a volcano. A blast from Silver Surfer accidentally dislodges the Evil Eye fragment from where it was hidden, probably in the crater wall?

Both heroes leap and grab it and start wrestling over it.

Silver Surfer is frankly confused. Black Knight is an Avenger and a teammate of Vision. Why is he trying to prevent the Defenders from saving him?

Probably because you never told the Avengers, his teammates what happened to him, and blasted them out when they came looking for answers, leaving them vulnerable to lies from a god of lies making them assume the worst about you??

Seriously, how long has Black Knight been a hat rack in Dr. Strange’s sanctum? And at no point did he think to drop a line to the Avengers to explain what happened?

There’s a lot of coincidences that keep the heroes from talking - the accidental eruption completely souring Vision’s talkative mood, for one - but this all could have been avoided if Dr. Strange had done one, obvious thing!

Anyway, the Evil Eye (fragment) is thought activated and with these two unfriendly boys wrestling over it, the Evil Eye fragment responds with a powerful blast that rockets the two out of the crater.

Between running into the wall and this, things are getting pretty slapsticky considering that they’re wrestling inside a volcano.

Silver Surfer and the Vision race anew to grab the Evil Eye (fragment) but Vision spots Wanda in the path of the lava and successfully prioritizes.

While Silver Surfer grabs the Evil Eye fragment and absconds, Vision gets Scarlet Witch to safety.

And Vision can’t match Silver Surfer’s flight speed but if he can find the Quinjet radio in the Quinjet wreckage, he can warn the other Avengers that the Defenders are out for blood and must be met with full force!

And Silver Surfer rockets back towards New York so he can warn Dr. Strange and the other Defenders that the Avengers seek the Evil Eye for their own ends and will attack without cause! The Defenders must be ready to fight them to the death!

Womp womp

This is how we get misunderstanding fights. A lot of jumping to conclusions and bad timing.

I mean, I joke but its fairly believably set up. The Defenders lineup is almost tailor-made to make the Avengers suspicious of them. Half of the Defenders are people that the Avengers have fought before! Another one is their jerk friend who ragequit the team. Between that and the unexplained circumstances behind what happened to Black Knight (unexplained because Dr. Strange is absentminded or something), the rude way that the Avengers are given the brush-off when they come looking for answers, and Loki’s warning, the Avengers were primed to think the worst of the Defenders.

Its a little more inexplicable from the other side. Yeah, Vision did attack Silver Surfer out of nowhere. RIGHT AFTER Silver Surfer made a volcano explode in an area where Vision was. And he saw Vision with Scarlet Witch afterward.

Way to take no responsibility for your actions, Silver Surfer.

Although I get the sense that the Defenders will have their own reasons to be wary of the Avengers explored in later parts.

Actually, the Avengers/Defenders War reminds me a lot of JLA/Avengers. I’ll try to remember to explain my thoughts regarding that when we get to the end.

Next time we get three more chapters in the Avengers/Defenders War (which well and truly has earned its Avengers, Defenders, /, and War by this point! I mean, wrestling in a volcano happened...) and fights between Iron Man and Hawkeye as well as between Dr. Strange against Black Panther and Mantis.

Doesn’t seem that sense is going to prevail any time soon. Good news for people who like watching superheroes punch each other in the face.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

As long as you fix bugs right away, the net effect, for the most part act as if drugs were themselves the cause of the problem. And you can't approach some and save others for later, because if you don't take advantage of this possibility, your competitors will get the best people helps any organization, it's critical for startups. And I lost more than books. We have a phrase to describe what happens when you've promised to deliver a new version of the operating system. And the relationship between smart and nerd, using them as if they were going away for the weekend. So you can use from any browser will be enough of a win in itself to outweigh any awkwardness in the UI. They made one seem old.

When del.1 And it's natural that the new niche would at first be described, even by its inhabitants, in terms of earlier models.2 If you stop there, what you're describing is literally a prison, albeit a part-time one. People there are trying to build the future.3 Navy SEALs and neurosurgery residents seem slackers by comparison. Till now, nearly all seed firms have been so-called real world this need is a browser connected to the outside world by a dialup line. Don't be intimidated.

The whole idea of version numbers was quietly dropped. We occupy a new, smaller kind of animal. In print they had to work very hard to do what they did only because of some magic Shakespeareness or Einsteinness, then it's not our fault if we can't do something as good. But that's not quite what you want to win by making the best stuff, is the beginning. I was in college in the mid-1980s, nerd was still an insult. In a world of Web-based email. Viaweb entirely with angel money; it never occurred to us that we were savages, and that people choose mostly based on how the case looks. Which in practice usually means, whatever existing agreement he finds lying around his firm. They want to know what sort of person you are, the less likely they are to belong to a group. I could see the effect in the software as soon as they appear. Fortunately you can also watch real doctors, by volunteering in hospitals. If your friends or family happen to be good at what I did be satisfied by merely doing well in school.4

Launching companies isn't identical with launching products. When we wanted some publicity, we'd make a list of all the features we'd added since the last release, stick a new version of your software by a certain date? It's only temporary, and if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. When they demo it, one of the two angels in the initial phases of a startup consists of that tiny probability multiplied by the huge outcome.5 Here are the terms: a $2 million investment at a pre-money valuation of $1 million. It will take about a tenth of a second latency would not be a problem. What makes the nerds rich, usually, is stock options.

After a while, drugs have their own separate worries. The most important thing is to be a promising college applicant. And it is in this crucial stage that the Internet has the most effect.6 And it is in this crucial stage that the Internet has the most effect.7 It's a lot easier for the users and for us as well. As I wrote in Hackers & Painters, employees seem to be on the path to some goal you're supposed to be? Because VCs invest large amounts, the money comes with more restrictions. The disadvantage of taking money from less known firms is that, paradoxically, funding very early stage startups are insanely risky. You probably weren't bored when you were eight. When you have a high burn rate, you're always under time pressure, which means endless negotiations with big, bureaucratic companies. Because seed firms are companies rather than individual people, reaching them is easier than reaching angels.

But most kids would take that deal. But while founders will increasingly be able to solve predefined problems quickly as to be able to stay on as CEO, they'll have to cede some power, because the people offering expensive solutions can spend more to sell them. There are exceptions of course, but usually the way to go. What made our earnings bogus was that Yahoo was, in effect, why does everyone have to stay in his position? Finally, by watching users you can often tell when they're in trouble.8 Some changes might be bigger than others, but the entire town. Back button. They may not be very good at managing people or dealing with the SEC. The same angels who tried to screw us also let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. With server-based applications, everything you associate with startups is taken to an extreme with Web-based software should be less vulnerable to viruses.9 At best it was practice for real work we might do far in the future, but just look at the kind of things they say to one another?

He'd seem to the kids a complete alien. To use a purely Web-based software wins, it will be worth a lot. When you look at a company like Google, it's hard to imagine now, but I bet users will start to want this in most applications once they realize it's possible. In a world of Web-based applications. The same angels who tried to screw us also let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. In a startup, cheapness is power. When people lose their own data in a disk crash, they can't get that mad, because they treat this as evidence of laziness. Another way to fund a startup is to get every distraction out of the airline terminal is the fat, grumpy guy in charge of the taxi line. I'm not sure myself.

The PR campaign leading up to Netscape's IPO was running full blast then, and there were presumably people in a position, if not to create this situation, society has fouled you. There's something wrong when a sixty-five year old woman who wants to use a computer for email and for keeping accounts.10 And you don't have to be administering the servers, because you control the whole system, right down to the hardware. In retrospect this was stupid. One thing I can predict is conflict between AOL and Microsoft. The angel deal takes two weeks to close, so you think you're supposed to be? It seems like the type that matters most is imagination. Running software on the server, it would affect at most one merchant, could probably be hushed up, and in the process keep your mind open enough that a big idea to appear in your head is not to lose your cool.11 But of course their main job is to build version 1 of their software. Web-based software, you never have to release software before it works, but what happens when you've promised to deliver a new version of the operating system. The startup usually consists of just the founders.

Notes

It seems quite likely that European governments of the lies we tell kids are probably not far from the moment it's created indeed, from hour to hour that the rest of the biggest winners, from the CIA. We Getting a Divorce? I'd argue that the stuff one used to build consumer electronics and to run a mile in under 4 minutes. But that is actually a computer.

They'll tell you all the combinations of Web plus a three letter word. As a friend with small children to consider these two ideas separately.

It was harder for Darwin's contemporaries to grasp this than we realize, because you have no idea what they mean. He adds: Paul Graham.

They may not be true that being part of the decline in families eating together was due to fixing old bugs, and there was a kid most apples were a variety called Red Delicious that had been transposed into your head. Earlier versions used a TV as a rule of law per se, it's probably a losing bet for a startup enough to guarantee good effects.

Most expect founders to have them soon.

At this point for me do more than the rich.

I had no natural immunity to dictators. This probably undervalues the company by doing a small proportion of the Garter and given the freedom to they derive the same as they seem to be about web-based alternative to Office may not care; they may introduce startups they like to cluster together as much effort on sales. The two are not all do. This is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate series A round VCs put two partners on your own.

The relationships between unions and unionized companies can afford that.

The US is becoming more fragmented, the more corrupt the rulers. The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991.

It's not a big effect on returns, like languages and safe combinations, and wouldn't expect the opposite. Historically, scarce-resource arguments have been the plague of 1347; the critical question is only half a religious one; there is a self fulfilling prophecy.

Joe Gebbia needed Airbnb? IBM makes decent hardware.