#it’s the fact that El is used as a tool in both cases

[greenfiend]

[emblazons]

I said I was gonna so a whole long post about the monologue after my rewatch so: having watched the whole Vecna monologue v Mike monologue that happens in the Piggyback in full for the first time in actual months…god damn. Just.

There is no way to understand what’s happening with El (and her relationship with Mike) during the monologue without looking at Vecna's monologue that comes right before it. There just isn’t, and if you try you’re 100% going to miss critical context for why things happen the way they do both in mlvn’s relationship and on screen.

First off: after what Vecna says to her, El is fully in self-defeat (and self-loathing) mode. She’d just learned that every single attempt of hers to do "right" with the knowledge she had at the time had actually been useful to the person destroying her world—

—and despite trying so hard to overcome her sense of destructiveness about things like scaring Mike and hitting Angela by going to “learn who she is” at Nina, it turned out that even the moments she perceived as her “heroic” ones (like closing the gate and stopping the mindflayer monster in S3) were actually tools useful to Vecna…just like her Piggybacking in to save Max.

El is literally hearing that even her best attempts at being “good” were used for evil, which makes her an accomplice to Vecna even if she didn’t mean to be—

—which we're shown, as El remembers all the moments she thought she was "helping" only to be told each one of those was her having her powers used by Henry/Vecna.

If that wasn't enough, we literally watched as El paralleled herself directly to the person whose powers are now being used to destroy the world, even as we (the audience) know most of what is happening is just Vecna do what he does best by tapping into her deepest core fears.

Vecna adds insult to injury here by making it clear that he once "wanted her by his side" in the first place (aka the powers she's been trying to use for good cannot be divorced from bad things)—

—and from this second onward (in El's perception at least) there is no way for her powers to be used correctly even when she wants to be helpful—which is why she “gives up,” lets the vine loop around her neck in the first place, and stares unmoving and crying at Max.

Basically: What Vecna says steals even the little resolve she gained back at Nina…which is why she stops fighting entirely.

Now, all of this is an extremely fair reason to feel defeated and dejected about trying to fight (on top of traumatizing af for El)—

—the problem is (like everything else wrong in their relationship) Mike once again has no sense of El’s internal state because she doesn’t and has not historically shared it (or can’t in this case), and therefore can only answer what he externally perceives her state to be—which he guesses, based on their last argument, has to do with him not being able to say he loves her.

The disjointedness between what is really happening with El and what Mike wrongly perceives the issue to be is why we see El not only look repeatedly displeased by his confession—

—but why the only thing she can think of in relation to Mike positively is his initial rescue, when he takes her to a space where her powers are neutral / unknown (and not the force for evil even her best attempts at using them just became in her mind).

That dissonance is also why she doesn’t fight until he starts saying she need to get over herself and save someone else…which is why she looks at Max and decides to fight anyway.

In truth, Mike could have glossed over the entirety of the “I love you," "not I'm scared of you but I’m afraid of losing you” part and just said “I believe you can do anything, but right you need to fight” and gotten the same result, given that what needed to be addressed was her self-loathing, not Mike’s (lack of) romantic affections.

Basically: even if they weren’t on the precipice of a breakup, Mike’s love wasn’t going to make up for the fact that El has basically just learned that what Brenner said was true—she wasn’t ready, not even physically, but mentally…because she was not prepared to learn that even her best attempts at saving the world were actually helping Henry build to the end of it.

Combine that with the fact that she ends up losing Max despite trying to fight with Mike's encouragement...on top of the fact that all of her relationship with Mike was rooted in her wanting to feel "normal" (aka what Vecna just shot out the window permanently)?

...no amount of "I love you's" from a boy as insecure as Mike (who she keeps at emotional distance) is was going to help that, especially given that Mike was directly mirroring what Brenner (who she literally cannot stand atp) said to her trying to encourage her.

All of this...we haven't even touched on anything happening on Mike's side or how her powers (that he so admires her for) are now officially "evil" in El's mind, never mind every other aspect of their incompatibility? ☠️

—I know I'm gonna move from this post on to how what Brenner said to her about "facing the good and the bad / humans are rarely so simple" is actually how El's arc has to be resolved in the end, but.

For now I'm at 30 images and anything more would get convoluted easy, so I'll just leave us (and my million mile an hour thoughts) here.

[brionysea]

The refusal to acknowledge Mike's weirdness in regards to the supernatural plot will never not be crazy to me i'm honestly so glad there's at least some people talking (point at you 🫶). Because most of the existing talks are always so selective. I've seen Will responding to El in the void when she speaks to him get used for proof he has to have some form of powers so many times but Mike looking at El in the void has no greater significance and doesn't mean anything of course. Also forget that they even make a callback to that a whole season later.

And all three of them, Mike, El and Will, all getting removed from the supernatural Hawkins plot in S4 is also again such a standout moment. None of them get to be there in person as the only kid characters. Just those three in general have so many things that tie them together as a trio.

Mike meeting El while looking for Will - El meeting Will through Mike and then later moving in with him as a sort of step sister - the two lab massacres both caused by Henry in S2 and S4 respectively happening to Mike+Will and El - El Will and Mike being the only kids who ever see another person in the void - hell even the eventual love triangle situation happening with Mike dating El while having feelings for Will just ties the three even more together.

But all of the trio imagery is always just attributed to the love triangle despite most of it having nothing to to with their relationships at all. It's always weird narrative choices connecting them. And I'd get if some people just weren't interested in the theory branches here but acting like the whole rule of three and power of three thing aren't ancient literary tools is odd. Even popular properties regularly use it because it's so common just look at StarWars. (crazy how you and a few other people are the only one's even entertaining it)

YES! all of this!

i've frequently seen the argument that mike "can't" have powers because the "point" of his character is that he's special and unique and capable of doing good without any, but if that was the case they wouldn't be saying it. if mike not knowing what it's like to be different or what it's like to be bullied were simple facts about him, if he's just not special in the superpower way, those things would be shown. they wouldn't draw attention to mike's ordinariness - in the same scene as will disputes every other claim that mike makes about himself; in the same scene as el says something that's just plain wrong in that mike "doesn't know what it's like"; in the same scenes as mike is deliberately blurred into the background because the people he's talking to aren't seeing him, aren't seeing that he's like them - if mike is just ordinary

for characters that actually are what people are claiming mike is supposed to be, just look at people like dustin, joyce, nancy, lucas, steve, erica, jonathan. most of the cast doesn't have powers and that doesn't stop them from doing good or feeling worthy. it's never brought up with them because it doesn't have to be. that's just who they are. it's a fact, it's shown and not told so you register and accept it without thinking about it, because it's just the truth. hell, they even had bob do the "ordinary person does something heroic and dies over it" thing in season 2. with how brave and self sacrifical mike is, if he was also completely ordinary he would've realistically died a long time ago, no matter how intelligent he is. max made the self sacrifice play ONCE and she immediately died

mike's most recent arc of feeling like he can't measure up to el doesn't read like unfounded insecurity, it reads like someone who feels like something's missing. like he should be able to do more but it's being blocked off somehow and he doesn't understand why

and if you look at the overall trajectory of his character, you can see what he's talking about. he was so intuitive and essential to season 1. he understood el, he understood the upside down. in season 2, he was coming up with most of the effective ideas to help will. in season 3, he started acting differently and then no one listened to him, which resulted in a season 4 where he's looking for external validation more instead of trusting (and asking/telling others to trust) his instincts, and he was a lot more hesitant to make himself heard at all because last time he tried everyone ganged up on him. that point in the middle, where everyone stopped taking what mike has to say about the upside down seriously, is exactly where things started to go wrong

if we're talking about the "point" of mike's character, it's lies. it's masks and deceit and things not being what they appear to be. he lies to others, he gets lied to, his family is a lie, his whole presentation as a character is a lie because we know he's not in love with el. why on earth would that apply to every aspect of his character except his insecurities, which "will the wise" called a lie? why would the character whose biggest theme is lying, who has an extremely weird understanding of the evil shadow dimension that no one else can match, revolve around that concept in all aspects but one? why would a running theme that's so integral to making plot twists work not be involved in an ultimate plot twist that recontextualises everything, showing that things were never what they appeared to be? that mike has mattered and been different and special all along?

that would just be shoddy writing, and we know stranger things is too good for that

[songsofbloodandwater]

People are seriously sleeping on the White Numen Tarot, and Numen theory in general.

If you consider yourself to be an animistic witch or tarot reader (or both), this post is for you. The White Numen Tarot by AlbaBG is a tarot deck where the imagery is focused on the animals, not the people, and specifically based on the concept of numen as described by the author of El Animal Divino (1985), a wonderful piece on the philosophy of religion.

In El Animal Divino (The Divine Animal), Gustavo Bueno identifies Numen as the "center of Will and Intelligence", and adds,

"in classical latin sources, [numen] references a center of effective and potent desire. [...] In the classics, many times, instead of will itself, it reflects the corporeal expression of will, specifically the nodding of the head that expresses willingness (numine capitum). It also represents the Affirmation or Willingness of the Gods (numine deorum), or the Gods themselves (simulacra numinum being the Statues of the Gods), or wild genii (silvarum numina fauni)".

The tarot deck reflects this by adding two extra cards on the deck, "White Numen" and "Black Numen". While both signify the presence of numen influencing the situation, which card is pulled indicates the nature of said influence into the situation, whether it is creative or destructive, additive or corrosive, enlightening or obscuring.

If you add into that the imagery of each animal and their meaning, their actions and how that relates back to the concept of numen (in this case, signified by specific animals with specific associations doing specific actions in each card) you can get very deep messages that are surprisingly easy to read. Add in any UPGs that you may have (associations of certain animals to particular Gods or Spirits, or just in regards to omens and signs) and you get even more possible meanings that are, again, deep yet very clear, particularly for more seasoned practitioners.

And I think that's a very useful tool to utilize if you want to take into account not just the human influences over a situation, but also the non-human, the divine, the spirits, and anything and everything numen. You can choose to read the animal meanings metaphorically (if no Numen card shows up in your reading) or literally (as in, an omen, a sign or a divine message, if one of the two, or both, Numen cards show up in your reading). It puts the reading into perspective to include the wider spiritual ecosystem and I just think that's neat.

Honestly, just the fact it introduced me to El Animal Divino is great by itself, because it's a book that has helped to put into words and deepen my understanding of religion in general, but also specifically of animal cults and how they relate to human and non-human spirits. But it doesn't stop there, having the deck allows you to identify and even communicate with said numen and thus it's one of the many ways to apply the theory of the book, into magical practice. It's a tool with a really cool theory behind it that is laid out in the open for anyone who may want to take it and adapt it into their practice.

The only problem? I don't know if the book has an english translation. So far i've only been able to find it in spanish, but hey, it's definitely worth at least an attemp at translation on any of the many translation sites you can find online.

[hispanichorizons]

5 Most Important Grammar Rules in the Spanish Language.

Spanish is an amazing language due to its global significance. It exhibits a rich diversity of regional dialects and accents. Hence, knowing Spanish can help you broaden your horizons and connect with a global community. It also allows you to connect with locals on a deeper level, understand their culture, and navigate more easily in various situations. Moreover, if you learn Spanish language, you can significantly enhance your travel experiences in Spanish-speaking countries as well. However, if you want to speak Spanish fluently, you need to familiarise yourself with the basics of Spanish grammar. This typically includes knowing when and how to use certain pronouns, understanding how to form the right sentences, and using the correct verb conjugations.

Learning the basics of grammar in Spanish is crucial, as it forms the foundation for effective communication. A solid grasp of grammar rules enables learners to construct accurate sentences, convey their ideas clearly, and comprehend the language better, facilitating meaningful interactions and language acquisition. To help you achieve your learning goals, we have narrowed down some of the basic rules of grammar in the Spanish language.

The 5 Most Important Grammar Rules in the Spanish Language

The five essential rules of grammar in the Spanish language have been mentioned below.

#1 All Spanish Nouns Are Assigned a Gender

In the Spanish language, every noun is assigned a gender; it falls into either the masculine or feminine category. This linguistic gender doesn't necessarily correlate with the biological gender of the noun's real-world referent; it's a grammatical classification. This gender distinction influences the forms of articles (both definite and indefinite), adjectives, and other modifiers used in conjunction with the noun. Masculine nouns are commonly preceded by the article "el" (singular) or "los" (plural), while feminine nouns are preceded by "la" (singular) or "las" (plural).

In case you want to learn Spanish and are looking for an institute that provides the best Spanish classes in Mumbai, you can contact us. At Hispanic Horizons, we offer a variety of class schedules, levels, and formats, making it easy to find a class that fits your schedule and learning style.

#2 Verbs Are Divided Into Three Conjugations

Verbs are the tools we employ to articulate processes,states, or actions that exert an influence on both objects and people. In English, you seamlessly incorporate verbs into your speech, and the same holds true for Spanish. However, not all verbs share identical traits, nor do they adhere to the same rules of conjugation.

The verb conjugation in Spanish is classified into three primary types:

The first conjugation encompasses verbs that end in -ar, such as "amar" (to love)or"cantar" (to sing).

The second conjugation involves verbs that end in -er, like "beber" (to drink)or"comer" (to eat).

The third conjugation covers verbs that end in -ir, for instance, "partir" (to leave).

#3 Every Verb Has a Mode

Should you want to learn Spanish language more effectively, it’s important for you to know that Spanish verbs can be categorised into three modes:

Indicative: This is used to state facts, express actions that are certain or objective, and provide information. It's the most common mode and covers present, past, and future tenses.

Subjunctive: This mode is used to express doubts, desires, emotions, recommendations, and uncertain actions. It's often used in dependent clauses introduced by certain conjunctions.

Imperative: The imperative mode is used to give commands or orders. It's used to directly address someone and instruct them to do something.

#4 Pronouns Can be Avoided in Sentences

Spanish verb conjugations carry a lot of information, including the subject performing the action. This means that often, the subject pronoun (yo, tú, él/ella, nosotros/as, vosotros/as, ellos/ellas) can be omitted from the sentence because the verb ending already indicates who is performing the action. This is a common practise in Spanish and is not as frequent in English.

#5 Adjectives Are Typically Used After the Noun

In Spanish, adjectives are usually used after the noun that’s been modified. This placement can alter the emphasis and meaning of the sentence. For instance, "casa grande" means "big house" in Spanish, but "grande casa" would imply something more like "great house."

The Bottom Line

Learning the basics of grammar in Spanish allows you to construct sentences correctly, ensuring your message is accurate and easily understood by others. It also provides you with the fundamental structure and rules necessary to communicate effectively in the language. Should you be in search of a Spanish language institute where you can learn Spanish language effectively, get in touch with us. At Hispanic Horizons, we offer a comprehensive range of Spanish courses to help you achieve your specific learning goals. To learn more about our courses, visit https://hispanic-horizons.org/.

[genderlect-6c]

Let's talk about Genderlects:

Gender refers to the social attributes and opportunities associated with being male or female and the relationships between women and men, girls and boys. These attributes, opportunities, and relationships are established and learned in society, are context or time specific, and can change, for example: the fact that women do more housework than men. Gender determines what is expected, allowed, and valued in a woman or a man in a given context. "Man" and "woman" are sexual categories, while "masculine" and "feminine" are gender categories. Gender groups the roles and functions assigned respectively to women and men. It can be modified in and by culture.

We can define generolect as the discursive dialect of gender, i.e., the differences in style between culturally conceived feminine and masculine discourse. Generolects are not ascribable to men or women as biologically determined groups, but correspond to the cultural characterization of what types of expressions and attitudes are considered feminine or masculine in a specific sociocultural context, and therefore what types of behavior are expected of men or women. They are therefore cultural stereotypes, which are used to judge people's behavior as feminine and masculine, expecting "coherence" between biological sex and gender style, encouraging in various ways the subjects to behave in a manner considered "coherent", in some cases even urging the subjects to behave as expected, negatively sanctioning those who are seen as "incoherent", or "deviant" from the expected behavior.

Generolects, then, are codes that should be seen as symbolic cultural tools, composed of prototypes endowed with efficacy to produce culturally expected behaviors, and that fundamentally serve to classify discursive acts, as well as bodily acts (gestures, postures, gait, etc.), as more or less feminine or masculine. In short, in a given culture, the ways in which real subjects, men and women, use language, and the repertoires of gestures and attitudes, are interpreted or "indexed" as feminine or masculine on the basis of generolects as cultural codes. It is necessary, in the first place, to distinguish between the actual discursive practices of the subjects and the ideology of these practices, because although in everyday life individuals of both sexes tend to exhibit in their discourse generolect characteristics of the opposite sign to their gender identity, whether occasionally or habitually.

This is not, moreover, a mere assumption, but a real imposition, since the man who does not consistently follow this norm will be considered suspect in his virility, and will therefore be stigmatized as "effeminate" and negatively sanctioned. Likewise, the woman who does not express herself, dress and move, in general, in accordance with the cultural norm of feminine style, that is, the one who does not act in a "feminine" way, according to the ideological definition of femininity, will be labeled a "tomboy" and will receive the weight of censure from her milieu. Moreover, we are referring to cultural stereotypes that have great power, not only repressive, but probably also productive of gender identities and styles themselves, to the extent that individuals performatively appropriate cultural norms.

What are generolects like, then, and how can we describe them? The characteristics of feminine and masculine generolects differ, as we have already said, between cultures and subcultures; they also vary according to other identity dimensions such as class, ethnicity, race, occupation, generation, etc., and change over time. But there seem to be certain predominant tendencies in what we call femininity or masculinity. We can even find similarities in the description of femininity and masculinity in two very dissimilar authors, Deborah Tannen (1990) and Deborah Cameron (2005).

Vista de Los estilos de género y la tiranía del binarismo: de por qué necesitamos el concepto de generolecto        | La Aljaba. Segunda Época. Revista de Estudios de la Mujer. (n.d.). https://cerac.unlpam.edu.ar/index.php/aljaba/article/view/1749/4577

[mariacallous]

Editor's Note: Senior Fellow Vanda Felbab-Brown breaks down how high-value targeting, when used in practice, is not the sole element of the counterinsurgency success and presents various problematic side-effects. This piece was originally published by Mexico Today.

Apart from human rights and civil liberties concerns, the recent decisions of the Mexican Congress to place the National Guard under the control of the Mexican military and to extend the role of the Mexican military in domestic policing until 2028 also fundamentally fail to address the design and content of policing in Mexico. Both the Mexican military and the National Guard have been troubled with tools of policing, and during the Andrés Manuel López Obrador administration, tools without a strategy. The fact that neither the military nor the guard has investigative authorities and capacities, and can act only against in flagrante crimes, severely limits how effective at policing either could become. López Obrador’s directive that both agencies avoid using force severely worsens law enforcement deficiencies and compounds the brazen sense of impunity of Mexican criminal groups.

The absence of a law enforcement strategy in Mexico today stems from a rejection of high-value targeting that during the Felipe Calderón and Enrique Peña Nieto administrations dominated policing approaches and fragmented criminal groups. Without the groups being dismantled and the state having the capacity to field effective police forces, the fragmentation became a key driver of violence.

So what is the global record of the effects of high-value targeting, so frequently practiced in law enforcement, counterinsurgency, and counterterrorism operations?

High-value targeting has been applied in the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Yemen, Syria, Peru, Colombia, Nigeria and beyond as well as against criminal groups, such as in Colombia and Mexico. It is built around the notion that decapitating the leaders of terrorist, insurgent, militia, and criminal groups will defang the group’s operational capacity and make the group easier to defeat.

There are basic moral reasons to bring to accountability leaders of heinous terrorist and criminal groups – be they Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the killed leader of the Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant, or Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán, the head of the Sinaloa Cartel. If they cannot be brought to a trial, like “El Chapo” was in the United States in 2019, killing them can serve justice – such as the killings al Qaeda’s leaders Osama bin Laden or Ayman al-Zawahiri did.

Such kills may also sometimes succeed as deterrent shots across the bow of a nonstate armed actor whose behavior a government seeks to shape and deter from the most dangerous acts.

Yet the other promises of high-value targeting, such as sapping the potency of the armed nonstate actors, have rarely panned out. One unique success case was the arrest of Abimael Guzmán, the leader of the Shining Path in Peru. The capture of Guzmán and most of the Shining Path leadership came after years of a painstaking intelligence operation led by a small select Peruvian police cell assisted by the United States. The decapitation success was the final nail in the Shining Path’s coffin. It resulted in most of the rank-and-file members and middle-level leaders also surrendering after the captured Guzmán called on his followers to give up so he would not receive the death penalty. Still, some factions persisted in the armed struggle and drug trafficking.

But even in the Guzmán case, the extensive leadership decapitation was not the sole element of the counterinsurgency success and was far from sufficient for defeating the almost victorious leftist guerrillas. Well before the leadership capture, the Shining Path was defeated in Peru’s rural areas as a result of the suspension of coca eradication and interdiction. Halting counternarcotics operations flipped local communities and drug traffickers to the side of the government, spurred the creation of rural militias, and produced extensive intelligence flows from the drug traffickers to the government.

But in many other cases, high-value targeting had little effect on weakening the group: Despite the fact that a 2014 U.S. drone strike killed Ahmed Abdi Godane, the top leader of the al-Qaeda affiliated al Shabaab jihadi group in Somalia, and many other key leaders since then, al Shabaab remains strong. Until recently when al Shabaab started facing clan militia uprisings in the Hiiraan area of Somalia, it was stronger than at any time after it was pushed out of power in 2011. In Afghanistan, the targeting of key Taliban leaders, a conceptualization loosely applied to just about any, even low-level, Taliban commander, was a key thrust of the entire 20 years of counterinsurgency efforts. Yet, the Taliban still prevailed and took over the country for a wide set of reasons, primarily the persisting severe deficiencies of the Afghan government and problematic behavior of Afghan elites.

Worse yet, high-value targeting strategies often come with very many problematic side effects, which I detail in “Despite Its Siren Song, High-Value Targeting Doesn’t Fit All.” These side effects include:

The killing of leaders can make them martyrs and only spur more potent and motivated militancy. The killing  in 2009 of the spiritual leader of Nigeria’s Boko Haram, Mohammad Yusuf, by the Nigerian military resulted in the rise of a devastatingly potent and brutal jihadi insurgency under a more vicious, but competent leader Abubakar Shekau. Similarly, the current leader of the nearly-victorious Shia Houthi movement in Yemen, Abdul-Malik Badreddin al-Houthi, came to power after his brother Hussein, the founder of the Houthi movement and a prominent critic of the Yemeni government, died in Yemeni government custody in 2004. Despite the fact that the Yemeni police also arrested hundreds of Hussein’s followers, the rebellion was not quelled. Instead, the death of its leader only set off a far more organized and violent rebellion that the combined forces of the Yemeni government, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and various Yemeni militias have not managed to defeat.

The siren song of weakening the opponent by killing as many of its “high-value targets” as possible can undermine good governance essential for sustaining military gains. It can drive an embrace of unaccountable, brutal, human-rights-violating and legitimacy-undermining thugs – the story of Western counterinsurgency efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq.

When undertaken without a careful assessment of how the opponent will adapt, decapitation strategies can usher in leaders who are far more problematic from the perspective of the international community, being uncompromisingly dogmatic and aggressive. For example, the misguided U.S. killing of the pragmatist Taliban leader Mullah Akhtar Muhammad Mansour did not weaken the Taliban, but instead empowered a more vicious branch of the Taliban, the Haqqanis. It also played into the hands of duplicitous Pakistan, whose Haqqani assets were elevated to the top of the Taliban’s leadership. Ultimately, it ushered in a far more dogmatic Taliban leader impervious to international and internal input, Haibatullah Akhudzada.

When high-value targeting breaks up nonstate armed actors into smaller groups, but the state is too weak or disinterested to move in and provide effective governance, violence can escalate to very high-levels – viz, the fragmentation of the Mexican criminal market since 2006 and the 20,000-35,000 yearly homicides there. In Colombia, the October 2021 arrest of the leader of the powerful Clan del Golfo Cartel, Dairo Antonio “Otoniel” Úsuga, exacerbated fissures and factionalization within the cartel and resulted in intense infighting over succession. Amplified by the contestation in Colombia between the Sinaloa Cartel and Cartel Jalisco Nueva Generación over local allies and suppliers, the violence badly affected large parts of Colombia and their communities. Yet when “Otoniel” was extradited to the United States in May 2022, the Clan del Golfo factions were able to act toward the joint purpose of paralyzing large parts of Colombia in protest at the extradition and demonstrating their territorial control, power vis-à-vis the Colombian state, and domination of local communities.

Finally, the most obvious problem of decapitation strategies is potentially high civilian casualties if the targeting is not precise or is indifferent to collateral damage –problems surrounding U.S. counterterrorism drone strikes and the targeting policies of many countries over the past twenty years, including the Saudi airstrikes in Yemen with their egregious level of civilian casualties.

To become more effective and avoid failures and problematic side effects, those making the targeting decisions, especially whether high-value targeting or middle-layer targeting is adopted, need to ask the following questions:

What is the vision of how the conflict will end or criminal groups will be incapacitated or deterred from certain behaviors, such as intense violence? Is the end of violence to come solely through kill-or-capture incapacitation or will some negotiated deal be a part of the envisioned process? What are the group’s capacities for replacing eliminated operatives at the top or middle level and for doing so with operatives as competent as their predecessors? Will replacement leaders be more prone to violence? Who is not just more skilled, but also more radicalized and violent and has greater fighting élan: the older generation or the replacement younger one? Is the purpose of interdiction in fact to fracture a group, and is such fracturing likely to be associated with increases in violence? Is a group tightly and hierarchically-organized or network-structured?

In sum, strategic intelligence analysis needs to drive targeting against militants and criminals, not the routine of established interdiction patterns or opportunistic intelligence flows.

[panharmonium]

the edge of seventeen [fic]

summary: Daegal forgets his own birthday.  Merlin has a conniption.  Daegal has a crisis.

context for newcomers: This is the next installment in an ongoing AU that @once-and-future-gay​ and I have been playing around with, wherein both Will and Daegal survived into Season 5.  The background for that AU can be found here, and the associated fics (plus one art post) are at the following links: be good / persistence / tournaments / daegal post-carpentry (art).

a/n: @once-and-future-gay​​, this was actually written for your birthday XD  I started it that Tuesday intending for it to be a very short snippet that I could post the same day, but I quickly realized that it was turning into a bigger piece, and now, a week and a half later, it’s a 10k story.  I apologize for how belated it is, but I hope you'll accept it as a birthday gift anyhow - I figured that if it were up to me, I’d rather have ‘more fic’ than ‘on-time fic,’ so - happy (belated) birthday to you, and here’s some more of this AU for you, featuring Daegal and a wide supporting cast! ✨

“Are you trying to slice that thing or just beat it to death?”

Will stared incredulously down the table at Daegal, who continued to hack at the seedpod held between his fingers even though his aggravated chopping did little more than squash the unyielding capsule down into the wood of the table.  “It’s my knife,” Daegal muttered, stabbing at his botanical nemesis.  “It’s dull.” 

“So sharpen it.”  

“I did,” Daegal replied.  “It’s old.  It doesn’t hold an edge.”

Will beckoned for the knife.  Daegal scooted it down the table to him like an innkeeper sliding drinks down the length of the bar, even in defiance of Merlin’s exasperated, “Don’t - !”  But Will caught the knife easily, handle-first, and gave it a disapproving once-over.

“Use mine,” he said, and slid one of his own blades down the table.

“Don’t - !” Merlin bit out again, then sighed and returned to the text he was copying after Daegal intercepted the blade without injury.

“Careful,” Will warned Daegal.  “It’s - ”

Pop.  Daegal startled out of his seat at the first enthusiastic slice of the knife, as the capsule burst and sent hundreds of tiny black seeds scattering in every direction, the dried granules rolling off the edge of the table and pouring onto the floor with a rain-like hiss.

Merlin sighed and rubbed his forehead.  Will picked up his own half-finished carving again and gestured at Merlin’s face.  “You’ve got a bit of ink on you, you know.”

Merlin shot him a flat look.  “Have I?”

“Yeah.  Just over your nose there.”

“Maybe it’s because you keep doing things that make me want to pull my hair out.”

Will gave Daegal a knowing grin across the table.  Daegal, doing his best to contain the spilled seeds, couldn’t help feeling pleased, even if the smile he offered to Will in return was slightly sheepish.  

“Do I?” Will asked Merlin, utterly unconcerned.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Stop giving him knives!” Merlin burst out, gesturing broadly at Daegal’s end of the table.

“He’s fine!” Will said.  “He’s a big lad.”

“And he’s making a big mess.”

“I’ll clean it up,” Daegal assured Merlin, scooping the runaway seeds into uncooperative piles.  “I didn’t think it would cut so well, is all.”

“You need better tools,” Will declared.  “Merlin, the man works for you.  Why haven’t you got him outfitted properly?”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a rap at the door.  “It’s open,” he called, frowning.  It was a bit late for visitors.

The door swung open, revealing Gwaine, who took only a single step into the physician’s chambers before pausing at the loud crunching sound under his boot.  “Hallo,” he said curiously, lifting up his foot.  “What’s all this, then?”  

“Seeds,” Daegal supplied helpfully, at the same time as Merlin grumbled, “Never mind.  Don’t come in; you’ll track it all over.”

Gwaine obliged, bowing at the waist in deference to Merlin’s directive.  “Don’t mind me,” he said.  “I only came by to see if you lot fancied an excursion.”

“What sort?”

“The lads and I are off to see the sunrise.  Thought you might like to join us.”

It was only after a moment’s confusion that Daegal realized Gwaine was talking about the tavern, in some sort of post-curfew, plausible deniability-laden way.  Daegal wiped seeds from his palms and looked hopefully between Will and Merlin, not daring to believe that they would say yes.  It wasn’t often Gwaine heard the word “no” from someone he’d propositioned, Daegal was willing to bet, but Daegal knew trying to drag Will and Merlin out of their nest two whole bells after curfew, especially when the weather had frosted all the windows, was an extremely optimistic maneuver, even for Gwaine.

Will, predictably, snorted, not even bothering to pretend he was interested.  Merlin did a better job of feigning regret, holding up the heavy text he was copying as if it explained everything.  “Can’t,” he said simply.  “Sorry.  Too much work.  Too late.  Too tired.  Too cold.”

“Any other excuses?” Gwaine asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up.  

“Pick whichever one you like best,” Merlin said, returning to scratch away at his manuscript.  “I’m comfy in here.”

Gwaine gestured amicably at Daegal.  “How about you, lad?”

Daegal’s eyes widened.  Merlin always made tavern nights with Gwaine sound legendary, and the fact that Will groaned every time they came up in conversation made them even more intriguing, but Will, in a surprisingly swift intervention, interrupted before Daegal could even open his mouth.  

“Not a chance,” he said, when Daegal tentatively started to rise from his chair.  “Sit down.”

Gwaine did not seem offended, but simply leaned against the doorframe and grinned in that careless way of his.  “Can’t the lad have a bit of fun?”

“Not with that lot.  Not at this hour.”

“I’ll look after him.”

“You?  By the time you’re done drinking you won’t know him from Bruta.”

Gwaine shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”  He pointed at Daegal.  “Invitation stands, lad.  Another time, maybe.”  

Daegal nodded wistfully, and Gwaine bade them farewell, departing.  Will, shaking his head, returned to his whittling, muttering, “Not ruddy likely.”  He brushed wood shavings off his knees, adding to the mess on the floor.  “Lunatic.”

“He’s a good lunatic,” Merlin said, absorbed in his copying.

“If you say so.”

“I could still go, maybe,” Daegal said.  “I could look after myself.”

Will raised his eyebrows.  “At the Rising Sun?  After curfew?  You’d wake up with your head in a snowbank.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would,” Will said, not budging. “Don’t go courting trouble.  You’re too young for that crowd.”

Daegal scrunched up his nose.  He knew that in a contest of stubbornness, Will would win by a mile, but still - “I’m not too young.  I’m seventeen.”

Merlin’s head snapped up from his book, his copying abruptly forgotten.  “You’re sixteen.”

“No,” Daegal said, bewildered by Merlin’s sudden bizarre intensity.  “Seventeen.”

“Since when?”

“I had my birthday last month.”

“You what?”

Daegal, confused, looked between Merlin and Will, the latter of whom sighed.  “Oh, lor.”

“What?” Daegal asked.  “Have I - is that bad?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Merlin demanded, ignoring Daegal’s question.

“I don’t know,” Daegal replied, taken aback.  He hadn’t even thought of it at the time.  What was there to think about?  It was just another day.  Sometimes he didn’t even remember his birthday had happened until it was already over.  Once he hadn’t remembered until the last week in January, when he’d taken a courier job and been forced to lie about his age.

Merlin looked incensed.  Will, by contrast, looked like he was trying not to laugh.  “Right, then,” he said, getting up and tucking his carving into his pocket.  “I’m off.  You two have fun.”

Daegal had an absurd urge to beg Will to sit back down, because Merlin was starting to get a frankly loony look on his face and Daegal did not understand what was the matter.  But Will just patted Daegal on the top of the head on his way out - tap tap - and let the door swing closed behind him.  

Merlin, his hands on his hips, assessed Daegal with narrowed eyes.  

“I’m sorry?” Daegal ventured, unsure what he was apologizing for.

Merlin pressed his lips together.  “You and him,” he said, pointing to the door where Will had just exited, “you’re two of a kind, you know that?”

Daegal did not know.  He had no idea what Merlin was talking about, in fact, and he was afraid to ask.  He did not exactly want to apologize again, though, because that felt sort of like apologizing for being like Will (although why Merlin seemed to think this was the case was a mystery).

“Right,” Merlin said after a moment.  “Not to worry.  I’ll take care of it.”

Daegal hesitated.  “Take care of what?”

Merlin sighed and shook his head, but did not answer.  Daegal decided that perhaps it would be best if he did not needle Merlin with further questions right now.  His mentor was acting very strange, and Daegal could not possibly imagine what had gotten him so worked up. 

He would just have to ask Will about it later.

As it turned out, Daegal did not have a chance to ask Will about it later.

The next day, Will did not come by.  The day after that, Merlin sent Daegal out to collect more dried seedpods to replace the ones Daegal had mangled, which took all afternoon and was exhausting enough for Daegal to go straight to his little chamber in the servants’ wing and flop into bed after supper.

The morning after that, he woke to find a smiling Elyan hovering barely two inches above his face.  

Daegal stifled a gasp and only just barely stopped himself from whacking Elyan across the nose.  He scrambled upright in the bed, his back pressed against the wall.  “El - Sir Elyan!  What - ”

“Good morning,” Elyan said, as if he could not possibly have been happier to have gotten almost-smacked in the face.  “Merlin sent me down.  Said it’s your birthday.”

Daegal goggled at him.  “My what?”

“Your birthday,” Elyan repeated.  “Isn’t it?”

Daegal shook his head, certain that he was still asleep.  “No.”

“Merlin said you might say that.”  Elyan whipped the covers off Daegal’s legs.  “Up you get.  It’s time for breakfast.”

Daegal shivered violently, his sleep clothes providing little protection against the cold.  “I don’t normally - I’m supposed to go and help Gaius - ”

“Not today.  You’ve been given the day off.”

Daegal stared.  “What for?”

Elyan chuckled.  “Still asleep in there, I see,” he remarked, tossing Daegal a shirt.  “It’s your birthday.  Haven’t I just said that?”

“It’s not, though,” Daegal said, feeling as if he were speaking a different language.   “My birthday’s in November.”

“Not this year, it isn’t.”  Elyan grinned.  “Get dressed.  We’ve got all sorts of things do today.”

When Elyan had said ‘all sorts of things,’ Daegal had not expected one of those things to be a full breakfast served in the King and Queen’s personal chambers, catered by the King and Queen’s personal serving staff, and attended by the King and Queen themselves.

“I didn’t know,” Daegal whispered frantically to Merlin, as Elyan ushered him inside the room.  “Why wouldn’t you tell me?  I would have worn something else!”

“You don’t have anything else,” Merlin shot back under his breath.  “Relax.  Arthur put his undershirt on back to front this morning; he’s hardly Sir Stylish.”

Daegal gave Merlin a panicked, pleading stare, but Merlin just plunked Daegal down in a seat and left to pour the drinks.

“We’ve been meaning to do this for ages,” the Queen told him, sitting down next to Elyan.  “Merlin keeps you very busy, doesn’t he?”

Daegal’s mouth was too dry to formulate any sort of reply.  Only a few short months ago this very same woman had been standing at Morgana’s elbow, plotting Arthur’s assassination, and at the time, Daegal had not even realized there was anything wrong with her.  There was, after all, nothing hard to believe about a servant-turned-queen who’d gotten a taste for power and decided to keep climbing the ladder, and while Merlin had always been very adamant that Daegal would never have believed this of Gwen if he had ever met her previously, it was hard for Daegal to look at her and not remember how she had willingly embraced the woman who later tried to murder Merlin and threatened to do the same to Daegal, if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

Merlin, busy setting out the ewery on a sidetable, heard Gwen’s comment and spared Daegal the necessity of replying.  “Arthur keeps me very busy,” he said, directing a pointed look at the king.  “If you’d like me to arrange your subjects’ social schedules on top of my other duties, Sire, perhaps you ought to hire someone else to look after your washing.”

Arthur waved a hand.  “Guinevere likes that funny thing you do with my socks.”

“Guinevere,” corrected the Queen , “thinks her husband is perfectly capable of rolling his own socks, thank you.”  She smiled encouragingly at Daegal.  “But enough about the laundry.  We’d been meaning to have you round for a meal, to say thank you, and Merlin mentioned that it was your birthday, so we thought now would be the perfect time.”

Daegal barely even heard the bit about his birthday, instead fixated on what had come just before it.  Thank him?  What for?  He had nearly gotten the king killed.  

“Merlin tells us you’ve been helping Gaius?” Arthur prompted.  

Daegal nodded. 

“He’s a fine physician.  If you’re pursuing a path in the healing arts, you couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”

“Is that something you’re interested in?” Guinevere asked, warm interest written across her face.

Daegal’s eyes darted helplessly to Merlin, who nodded encouragingly.  Daegal cleared his throat.  “Er - I think so.  Maybe.  Merlin says I’m picking it up quickly.”

“Well, you’ve already saved one life,” Arthur said with a grin, gesturing at himself, “so if that’s any indication of your capabilities, I expect you’ll do well.”  He offered Daegal a platter of pastries.  “Tell us about your studies.”

The meal continued on in much the same fashion, with Gwen and Arthur asking Daegal questions and Elyan occasionally putting in a comment or two of his own.  Daegal did his best to answer honestly, even as he was plied with heaps of food, most of which was comprised of dishes he had never had the chance to try before and all of which flavors he was certain he would never be able to remember later, given how worked up he was.  Arthur was gracious and charming throughout, very unlike the man who often featured in Merlin’s grumbling suppertime complaints.  Elyan talked to Merlin as much as he did to either of the royal guests, which was probably a breach of some kind of protocol, though nobody seemed to mind.  And the Queen - the Queen looked exactly the same as she had when Daegal had first met her, minus the cloak and surreptitious glances, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought nothing had changed.  

Except - 

There came one moment, towards the end of the meal, when Merlin put a goblet down in front of Gwen with a playful and very exaggerated “Your Majesty,” and Gwen jabbed his knee with a fork under the table where Arthur couldn’t see, all the while both of them keeping their eyes locked on each other as if daring the other one to laugh first, and it was then that Daegal knew with absolute certainty that this was not the same woman he had met that night in the woods.  

“I hope you’ll accept this token of the Crown’s appreciation,” Arthur said to Daegal later, when they had finally finished their meal and risen from their chairs.  “You’ve done this kingdom a tremendous service, and I’m indebted to you.”  He passed Daegal a very official-looking bit of folded parchment stamped with the royal seal, which Daegal knew it would not be appropriate to open now.  He took it and bowed the way Merlin had shown him.

“And there’s something from me, too,” said Guinevere.  “Only it would have been a bit difficult to get it up the steps - Elyan will take you to see it instead.  I think you’ll find it useful, given that you’re apprenticing to our physicians.”

Daegal could not possibly imagine what on earth could have been so unwieldy that she could not get it up the stairs, but he bowed to her as well.  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” she said, in a more solemn voice.  “For helping, when I couldn’t help myself.”

Daegal straightened, hesitant.  Her eyes - it seemed ludicrous to Daegal, now, that he had not recognized the enchanted version of her for what it was.  That hollow shell had had no soul.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he blurted out.  “I wish I could’ve done more.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Arthur said, wrapping a steady arm around his wife’s shoulders.  “For both of us.  We owe you a great deal.”

Daegal bowed to both of them again, and Elyan escorted him to the door.  “Oh, and Daegal?” Gwen added.  

Daegal stumbled over his own feet trying to turn around.  “Your Majesty?”

She smiled at him.  “Happy birthday.”

“What did Arthur give you, then?” Elyan asked, once they were out in the street.

Daegal fingered the mystery envelope.  He did not know, and honestly, his head was spinning too much for him to even think about puzzling out a jumble of words right now, especially when he was only just learning his letters to begin with.

“Can I have a look?” Elyan asked, and Daegal willingly handed him the parchment.  Elyan slipped a finger under the seal and unfolded the document, parsing it with a speed Daegal had pretty much despaired of ever achieving for himself.

“Mm,” Elyan said.  “Thought so.  Typical kingly stuff.”

“What is it?” 

“Land grant,” Elyan said, handing back the parchment, and then, as if this were nothing to worry about, he turned and ambled into the stables.

Daegal stared after him.  “What?”   

“Land grant,” Elyan repeated.  “You know, like a knight’s fee.  For services rendered to the Crown.”  He wandered deeper down the central aisle of the stable, stalled horses on either side of him lifting their heads.  “Come on.  It’s through here.”

Stunned, Daegal followed him, his fingers clutching at the incomprehensible slip of parchment.  “I can’t own land,” he protested.  “I don’t own a second pair of shoes.”

“You do now.  Or you can afford to, at least.”  Elyan glanced back at Daegal.  “Don’t worry, it’s a small plot.  Just a little square out in the Sprawl.”

Outside the city walls, then.  “I don’t - what am I supposed to do with it?”

“You could live there.”

“But - ”  Daegal stared at Elyan’s back uncomprehendingly.  “I live in the Citadel.”

“Rent it?”

Daegal’s head was going to explode.  “Will says landlords are leeches,” he said faintly.

Elyan laughed.  “Herb garden?” he suggested.  “Merlin’s always sending you off to gods know where, searching for things you could grow yourself.”

Daegal hardly knew what to say to that, but Elyan stopped walking before Daegal could think of anything coherent.  “Here we are,” Elyan announced, clapping a hand down on top of a stall door to his left.  

A wave of misgiving flooded Daegal, temporarily wiping away the lingering shock of the land grant.  “Are we riding somewhere?”  

He had not considered this, and he did not want to admit that the only way he was going to be able to ride anywhere at all was on the back of someone else’s saddle.  He had never had access to a horse himself, and had only had the opportunity to ride twice in the past - the first occasion had been extremely brief, and the second had ended in him being thrown, so he was not quite sure that it counted.

“Not today,” Elyan said.  “Unless you count the training ring.”

“Sorry?”

“Merlin says you don’t know how to ride.”

“Yeah,” Daegal said.  He could feel himself turning red.  “I mean - no, I don’t know how.  Not well.  I don’t need to.  I don’t have a horse.”

“Didn’t have a horse,” Elyan said, as if making a correction.

“What?”

Elyan gestured at the stall they were standing next to.  “Couldn’t get her up the stairs.”

Daegal’s mouth popped open.  The creature Elyan was pointing to was a dark bay with an irregular, splotchy white blaze down her muzzle, her smooth coat appearing nearly black in the dim light of the stables.  She was stout and smoothly muscled, watching them with a calm, composed energy, and even as Daegal stared, she stretched her neck over the stall door and sniffed at Elyan’s hands, perhaps searching for any remnants of his recent breakfast.

“My sister,” Elyan said proudly, scratching the horse’s cheek, “is aces at presents.”

“She’s not for me,” Daegal croaked disbelievingly.

“Of course she is,” Elyan assured him.  “She’s the same stock as Merlin’s.  Steady temperament, friendly, not likely to spook.  Not like Arthur’s beasts.”

A horse, Daegal thought numbly.  A horse. 

“I can’t take this,” he mumbled.  “It’s too much.”

“Of course it’s not too much.  You saved the king’s life.”

I almost killed him! Daegal wanted to shout, but Elyan would not understand.  

“And you’ll need transportation, anyhow,” Elyan continued.  “You can’t be jogging along behind Merlin on foot.  Apprentices in the royal household have mounts, or they can’t do their work.”

Daegal bit the inside of his cheek.  “I don’t even know how to ride her.”

The horse cocked her ears in Daegal’s direction and swung her blocky head around to inspect him, her dark brown eyes sedate and trusting.  “What do you think we’re here to practice?” Elyan asked cheerfully, retrieving a halter and lead rope from a hook on the wall.  “Go on, say hello to her.”

Daegal’s hand came up of its own accord, hovering in the air below his new mount’s nose.  She lipped at his fingers curiously.  “Hello,” Daegal breathed.

He didn’t deserve her.  He knew he didn’t.  

But he was falling in love with her anyway.

It was a very windswept and breathless Daegal who climbed off his horse later that day and ran to greet Merlin at the fence.  

Evening was coming on, and the temperature had sunk as quickly as the sun, but Daegal did not even notice the stiffness in his fingers or the tightness in his cheeks.  He was too carried away with the elation of riding, and the dizzying knowledge that he now had the means to go anywhere he wanted, anytime, without begging for rides in the back of strangers’ wagons.  Months ago he would have killed for this kind of ability to roam.  

It was strange, now that he finally had the freedom to run away whenever he pleased, that he no longer felt he had anything to run away from.

“Having fun?” Merlin asked, elbows resting on the fence.

Daegal did not think fun was the right word.  There was just no good way to explain that he felt like a menagerie bear whose shackles had slipped, or a noblewoman’s bird escaping out a cracked window.  “It’s brilliant,” he said, settling for a completely inadequate adjective.  “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“And he’s good at it!” Elyan put in, walking Daegal’s horse over to the gate.  “We’ve only been out here one day and he’s got her cantering already - I think this beast is talking to him.”

If Daegal’s cheeks had not been whipped rosy by the wind already, they were certainly turning pink now.  “No,” he said to Merlin, “not - talking to me.  Obviously not.  Just - I sort of feel like I understand her, is all.”

Merlin did not seem to think this was strange at all, and produced a chunk of some sort of winter root vegetable from his coat, offering it to the horse.  She snapped it up eagerly.  “Animals talk,” Merlin said, shrugging.  “It’s people as don’t know how to listen that get kicked in the nethers.”  

He untied the gate for Elyan, who led the horse through it and started up the path back to the stables proper.  “How was your day?” Merlin asked Daegal, as the three of them walked, Elyan leading the horse on one side, and Merlin and Daegal on the other.

Daegal had to think before answering.  It had been, by a wide margin, the strangest day he had ever experienced in Camelot, starting with Elyan’s surprise appearance that morning and punctuated by a number of other unexpected visitors.  Leon had arrived in the stables not long after Elyan and Daegal, bringing with him a collection of exquisitely embroidered tack (“Part of Her Majesty’s gift,” he’d explained), and then he’d spent the next hour walking Daegal through the various bits and pieces, guiding him through the process of putting them on his mount and taking them off again.  Percival had dropped by with his own mount and accompanied Daegal on a slow ride outside the ring, along the edge of the woods - Elyan had ridden in the saddle behind Daegal, just to be safe, but he had not had to take the reins from Daegal once, and they had gone on a nice plodding walk around the frostbitten perimeter of what would be fairgrounds, come summer.  Even Mordred had made a brief appearance, in his oddly intense way - apparently out for a ride of his own, watching Elyan and Daegal lungeing Daegal’s mount for a few minutes, before nodding to the both of them and continuing on his way, his own horse cresting the hill so smoothly that it appeared as if it were not touching the ground.

“It was strange,” Daegal decided.

Merlin walked along beside him, his boots crunching on the frostbitten grass.  “Why?”

“I don’t know.  All these people - ”  Daegal paused, brushing a hand against his horse’s flank.  “I don’t see why they’re taking an interest.”

“It’s your birthday,” Merlin replied.  “People are supposed to make a fuss.”

Daegal was not sure about that.  It had not ever been his experience in the past, at least.  “It’s not really my birthday, though.”

“Only because I didn’t know about it.”

They continued walking, Daegal worrying at his lip.  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said abruptly, after a minute.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?”

Daegal shook his head quickly.  “I am.”  Too much, he thought.  His exhilaration at being taught how to ride had driven it from his mind for a while, but now - 

Elyan waved to someone up ahead, interrupting Daegal’s thoughts.  There in the stableyard was Gwaine, lounging against the edge of the open doors, dressed not in his crimson surcoat but in plain clothes, and tossing a small pouch from hand to hand.  

“You’re early,” Merlin called to him.  “We’ve still got to groom and water this creature.”

“I thought I was supposed to be in charge of the watering,” Gwaine replied, which seemed like a very odd thing to say.  “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“I’m talking about the horse.”

Gwaine pushed himself off the wall, joining the little group as they entered the yard.  “Our guest of honor,” he said, indicating Daegal.  “This fellow’s been doing our job for us, Elyan.  Saving the king is knight’s work, isn’t it?”

Elyan led the horse past Gwaine with a smirk.  “How would you know?  You’ve never done a bit of it.”

Gwaine shook his head, glancing at Daegal in a comradely way.  “Why does everybody think I only took this job for the food?” 

Daegal, who had only rarely interacted with Gwaine before, did not know what to answer, but Merlin saved him the trouble.  “Because we know you,” he said, and then smiled when Gwaine gave him a crooked grin.

That was utter nonsense.  Even Daegal knew that Gwaine had nearly died during Morgana’s occupation, specifically while fighting to keep a number of his fellow prisoners from starving - but Merlin and Gwaine were a bit like Merlin and Will in that way, at least to Daegal’s limited experience, wherein Gwaine did not always want people to see him for what he truly was, and Merlin always chose to see him anyway, if only from behind a mutually agreed-upon smokescreen of affectionate teasing.

“Well, let’s hurry it up,” Gwaine said, tossing his little bag in the air.  “I’d like to get on with my bit.”

His bit?  

Gwaine paused in front of the empty stall while Elyan gathered what they would need for a post-ride grooming.  “I hear it’s your birthday,” Gwaine said to Daegal, and then before Daegal could explain that it wasn’t, exactly, Gwaine handed Daegal the little leather bag.  “There’s for you, then.”

Daegal, surprised, loosened the cinched string at the top of the pouch and tipped the contents into his other hand.  Out tumbled four dice, the smoothly-carved cubes clacking against one another as they fell into Daegal’s palm.  

Daegal looked up at Gwaine, confused.

“I thought you could use them,” Gwaine said.  

“For what?”

Gwaine grinned and exchanged a knowing look with Merlin.  “My bit.”

Daegal stared at at the dice in his hand, then snapped his gaze up to Merlin, suddenly seized by a burst of excitement.  “Are we - ”

Merlin held up a finger.  “On three conditions,” he declared, obviously trying not to smile.  

Daegal closed his fingers tightly around the dice, trying not to appear too eager.

“One: you’re going to untack and groom your mount.  The stablehands will do that for you, when you ride out with our party, but she’s your responsibility.  You have to know how to take care of her.”

Daegal had no objections to that.  He already loved this horse better than anything he’d ever owned.

“Two: weak drinks only.”

We’ll see, Gwaine mouthed behind Merlin.

“Three - ”  Merlin held up a third finger.  “You leave when I leave.  Will’s right about the after-curfew crowd.  That’s a sort of trouble you don’t need.”  He looked expectantly at Daegal.  “Agreed?”

“Agreed.”  Daegal nodded fervently.  “Is it - who’s coming?”  

“Everybody!” Elyan supplied happily, uncinching the horse’s girth.  “You saved our king.  We owe you a night out.”   

Merlin, who had perhaps understood Daegal’s question better, said, “Everybody who likes drinks and dicing and general uproar.” 

This statement prompted appreciative, anticipatory grins from Gwaine and Elyan, and Daegal refrained from asking any follow-up questions, having understood the answer perfectly well.  He had been working with Merlin long enough to know that if there were one thing Will avoided more assiduously than King Arthur, it was large groups of loud people losing their heads over absolutely nothing.

“Let’s get started, then,” Gwaine said.  “D’you think you can untack this beast and learn the rules to Hazard at the same time?”

Daegal stuffed the dice into his pocket and grasped the bridle’s noseband buckle.  “I can try.”

Gwaine grinned wolfishly.  “That’s just what I like to hear.”

They ended up staying a bit later than they’d intended. 

By the time Merlin finally had the sense to bring the evening to a close, Daegal had turned the single half-penny he had started with into several silver pieces (“Alchemy!” Gwaine had proclaimed triumphantly, knocking his cup into Daegal’s so that some of the drink had sloshed over), and Daegal had become very popular with some of the tavern regulars, who were beyond tickled to see a seventeen year-old boy flatten strangers’ smug expectations of victory.  Daegal had not won every time, of course, but he had gotten extremely lucky at several critical moments and had at the very end miraculously thrown his chance number twice, after the odds had already been declared heavily against him (and thus after the other players had upped their contribution to Daegal’s stake with the expectation that he would lose).

Merlin had pulled Daegal from the game after that, sitting him back down at the knights’ table, which was piled high with food and drink.  “First lesson,” he’d said, offering Daegal a very watered-down ale, “and one you won’t learn from Gwaine - quit while you’re ahead.” 

They had stayed for a long time after that, socializing and eating their fill, until Merlin had finally seemed to take notice of the time (or perhaps of the slightly seedy-looking characters who had started to wander in through the back entrance).  Merlin, at that point, had prompted Daegal to gather his winnings, say his goodbyes, and make his exit, pursued by a chorus of enthusiastic farewells from the knights, none of whom showed any sign of abandoning their seats anytime soon.

Stepping out into the night air was like diving into a frozen moat.  Daegal drew his cloak tighter around his torso as he and Merlin wound their way through the town.  The Rising Sun’s interior had been as stiflingly hot as its namesake, overflowing with a press of bodies and thrumming with a constant cacophony of conversation, and even from the outside its closed shutters leaked driblets of light and noise, as if the building were bursting at the seams.  The town, by contrast, was stone-silent and frigid, everybody shut up in their homes waiting for the weak light of morning. 

“You did well,” Merlin said, as they approached the citadel.  “You’re sure you’ve never played Hazard before?”

Daegal shook his head.  His mother would never have let him, before, and after - 

He pushed that thought away, watching his breath mist in front of his face.  He’d never had enough money to gamble with after that, that was all.

“You weren’t helping me, were you?” Daegal asked Merlin.

“No, you got lucky.”  Merlin chuckled.  “The look on that fellow’s face...”

Daegal smiled faintly, remembering.  Daegal had taken rather a lot of money from a beefy, belligerent fellow who had been bothering everybody all night, which had resulted in a vastly improved tavern experience for all when the man had stormed out in a rage, and which had also earned a round of free drinks for Daegal’s table.  “He wasn’t too pleased, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t.  Not quite the sort of evening he was expecting to have, I don’t think.”

They walked on, approaching the retracted drawbridge, and detoured to the parallel pedestrian crossing instead, passing through the smaller door to the bridge’s left and entering the courtyard, Merlin offering a hello to the familiar guards as they went.

“How does it feel to be older?” Merlin asked, as they crossed the darkened square.

Daegal shrugged.  “I don’t know.  The same, I suppose.”

But that wasn’t exactly true, Daegal thought, as they entered the base of the North Tower.  Last year, things had been very different.  A few months ago, he could never have dreamed of the sort of day he’d been having today.  And now - 

He hesitated at the bottom of the stair leading to the physician’s chambers.  Merlin, oblivious to the fact that Daegal was not right behind him, kept climbing.  

“Why are you doing all this?” Daegal asked.  His voice sounded strange in his own ears, or maybe that was just a function of the echo in the hollow space, his words bouncing off the stone shell on either side of him.

Merlin turned around, surprised to see Daegal still standing at the bottom of the stairs.  “All what?”

Daegal made an uncertain gesture.  “This.  All these things today...I don’t understand.”

“It’s your birthday,” Merlin said, as if that made any sense at all.

“It’s not, though,” Daegal said.  “Even if it were, I don’t see - I mean, it doesn’t matter.”  He shrugged uncomfortably.  “Who cares?”

Merlin stared levelly at Daegal.  “I do,” he said.

A long silence ensued.  Daegal could not possibly have formulated a reply to this even if he’d known what to say, but Merlin did not ask him to respond, instead descending a few steps and putting a hand on Daegal’s elbow, nudging him up the staircase.  “Come on,” he said quietly.  “It’s late.”

Daegal followed him without a word, stunned and silent, seven stories straight up.

“Isn’t it a bit past your bedtime, old man?” Merlin said, immediately upon opening the doors to the physician’s chambers.  

Daegal, trailing behind, thought this was a very unusual way for Merlin to address Gaius, but as he peered around Merlin’s shoulder, he realized it was not Gaius to whom Merlin was speaking, but Will, who was sitting by the little hearthfire at the left of the room with his feet propped up on a stool.  

“No,” Will replied, though he did look like he was ready to doze off.  “It might be a bit past Arthur’s, though.”

Merlin swore and stopped dead in the doorway.  “He sent somebody up?”

“Several somebodies.”

“What did you tell them?

Will waved an unconcerned hand.  “I don’t remember.”   

“Will - ”

“Isn’t he waiting for you to turn down his sheets or something?”

“Did you tell them I was at the tavern?”

Will smirked.  

Merlin, cursing under his breath, took Daegal by the upper arms and maneuvered him into the room.  “Drink some water.  Kip on the patient cot - you’re up early collecting pots with Gaius tomorrow; you might as well sleep here.”  He tore off his outerwear and dumped it on a table.  “You,” he said to Will, “on the other hand, can go home, you ass.”

Will tipped his chair back, cupping a hand to his ear.  “What’s that?  ‘Have my bed, William’?  All right, if you say so.”

Merlin flashed Will a rude gesture before tearing out of the room.  Daegal caught the door before it could slam and closed it carefully, so as not to disturb Gaius, who was sleeping behind the screens that had been drawn around his corner.

Will rose from his seat with a yawn, stretching.  “So you had your evening out at last.”

Daegal did not answer him, his mind still trapped back there in the stairwell with Merlin.  I do, he heard again, as he struggled to untie his cloak.  I do.  

“Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Daegal managed to undo the knot, his fingers clumsy with cold.  He pulled his cloak from his shoulders and folded it slowly, first in half, then in fours, and then laid it aside before doing the same with Merlin’s rumpled jacket, single-mindedly focused on his task.

“I hope you at least took something off Gwaine.  Fellow’s too cocky for his own good.”

Daegal, out of things to fold, stared at his hands.  Will came closer, scrutinizing Daegal in the low light.  “How much did you have to drink?” 

Daegal stuck his hands into his pockets, avoiding Will’s gaze.  Not much, was the true answer, but he couldn’t find the words.  

He fingered the coins in his pocket, the silver pieces cold and clinking against one another.  

“Oi,” Will said, frowning.  He tipped Daegal’s chin up to see his eyes.  “You all right in there?”

Morgana had given Daegal a sack of coins just like this, once.

Daegal yanked his hands out of his pockets as if he had been burned, jerking back from Will’s fingers.  

“This is wrong,” he blurted out.

Will blinked at him.  “Sorry?”

“I can’t do this.  It’s - I can’t.  It’s not right.”

“What isn’t?”

“Everything!  The birthday, the money, the tavern, the riding - ”  Daegal's voice was rising, but he could not rein himself in.  He had been trying to tell this to someone all day.  “The horse, the land, breakfast - ”

Will stared at him, confounded.  “Breakfast?”

Daegal struggled mightily not to holler in frustration.  Will, of all people, ought to have understood, but it appeared he was committed to being just as obtuse as everyone else.  “Yes!  I don’t deserve it; it isn’t right - ”

Will’s eyebrows shot up.  He did not give Daegal another chance to wake Gaius, but planted a hand on Daegal’s shoulder and spun him around, muttering, “Go,” in a low voice, pushing Daegal away from Gaius’s sleeping area in the direction of Merlin’s chambers.  Daegal allowed himself to be marched up the little staircase, Will following, until they were both in Merlin’s room, the small chamber chilly and cloaked with shadows, lit only by a single hanging candle.  

Closing the door, Will turned back to Daegal.  “Start over,” he commanded.

Daegal whipped out Arthur’s envelope.  “The King - he gave me a land grant.”

Will snatched the piece of parchment out of Daegal’s hand, scanning it briefly.  “So?” he said, discarding the envelope onto Merlin’s desk.  “He can afford it.”

“But it’s - ”

“Nothing he’ll miss.”

“But - ”

“But what?”

“The Queen - ”

“What about her?”

“She gave me a horse.”

Will shrugged.  “And?”

“It’s too much!  I can’t - ”

“Are you planning to thank her for it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to take care of it?”

“Of course!”

“Then what’s the trouble?  She wanted you to have it.”

“She gave it to me for the wrong reasons!” Daegal exclaimed frustratedly.  “She kept saying I helped her, but I didn’t do anything.  I didn’t even know she needed help.  I thought she wanted the throne for herself - ”

“You stopped her killing her husband,” Will said, interrupting.  “You saved his life.”

“I didn’t save him.  I almost killed him.  I’m the reason he needed help in the first place.  But all of them are acting like - ”  Daegal thought back to earlier that night, to Elyan, who had shown Daegal how to calculate Hazard odds in his head; to Leon, who had spoken to Daegal like one of the adults; to Percival, who had taught Daegal the less savory lyrics to the tavern’s favorite drinking songs; and to Gwaine, who had murmured advice in Daegal’s ear while Daegal cast his dice.  “They kept saying I’d done their job for them.  They - ”  

A horrible, hollow feeling bloomed in Daegal’s chest, strangling his voice.  He pulled the coins out of his pocket and dumped them onto Merlin’s desk, not wanting to carry that cold weight for another moment.  “They don’t know me.  They don’t know what I’m like.”

Will watched him closely, his eyes narrowing.  “What are you like?”  

Daegal shook his head and sank down onto Merlin’s bed, staring at the floor.  He didn’t want to say it.  He shouldn’t need to say it.  Will already knew the whole story; Daegal shouldn’t have needed to retread all the ugly details.  

Will folded his arms, leaning back against the top of Merlin’s desk.  The single candle did very little to illuminate his set expression, but the moonlight in the window behind him threaded his silhouette with silver.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about my birthday,” Daegal murmured, his voice thick.  “I should have just kept it quiet.  That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Will frowned.  “Who said that?”

“Merlin.  When I didn’t mention my birthday - he said you were - well, he said we were two of a kind.”

Will shook his head.  “I don’t hide my birthday.”

“I think you must,” Daegal said stubbornly, returning to his intense inspection of the floorboards.  “Because I don’t even know when it is.”

“Neither do I.”

Daegal looked up, surprised.  “What?”

“I don’t know when my birthday is.”

“Why - ”

Will lifted a finger repressively, and Daegal realized he was not going to be getting that part of the story tonight, or maybe ever.  “It doesn’t matter,” Will said.  “I don’t care.  I don’t fancy it much, anyhow.  It’s nothing to me.  Merlin, though - ”  He gestured at the room around them, at the mussed bedclothes and the stacked manuscripts and the sketched diagrams pasted to the walls.  “He doesn’t like it when I say things like that.  It bothers him.  He’s got ideas about how these things are supposed to be done, and he thinks it’s wrong, not telling me happy birthday, even if I’d rather he just left it alone.”

Daegal had no trouble believing it, if Merlin’s reaction to Daegal’s skipped birthday were anything to go by.  “But then - ”  Daegal frowned.  “He mustn’t know when your birthday is, either.”

“My birthday,” Will said, in a long-suffering way, “is whenever Merlin decides he wants it to be.  He comes crawling into my cott at some godsforsaken hour of the morning on whatever personally convenient day he’s picked that year, and then he yanks me out of bed and feeds me too much food and drags me all over creation doing the sort of things he thinks I’ll like doing.  I’ve been telling him to drop it for more years than you’ve been alive, but he never listens.  It doesn’t matter how much I whinge about it.  He never forgets.  He can’t help himself.  He thinks it’s important, telling people he’s happy they were born, even if they don’t think being born was such a fantastic thing themselves.”  

Will gestured at Daegal.  “If you’re going to be one of his people now, you’re going to have to get used to that.  You don’t have to like it, but you’ve got to understand it.  That’s who he is.  That’s how he treats people.  He won’t give you a pass on birthday fuss just because you don’t think you’re worth fussing over.  He’s not built that way.”

Daegal heard Merlin’s words again, echoing against the frozen stones of the stairwell.  Who cares? Daegal had asked.  

I do.

He twisted his fingers together.  Out in the physician’s chamber proper, Gaius was snoring.  

“It’s not just Merlin, though,” Daegal said finally, in a soft voice.  “Everybody - all of them are doing too much.”

“Too much how?”

“They keep thanking me.  But the gifts are - I didn’t earn them.  I don’t deserve them.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t need anyone to tell me; I know.”  Daegal stared at Will, helpless to explain why Will’s inability to accept this simple truth made him feel so utterly lost at sea.  “I don’t understand this.  You’re the one who kept saying I did something wrong.”

“You did do something wrong,” Will replied, as if this entire line of discussion were so obvious that it did not need to be examined.  “But you did something right, too.”

“I - ”

Will held up a hand.  “Who was it nearly got themselves killed saving Pendragon’s gleaming hide?  Who was it betrayed Morgana?”

“Me, but - ”

“Who was it came back to save Merlin’s life?”

“From something I did to him in the first place.”

“From something Morgana did to him,” Will corrected.

“I helped,” Daegal retorted.  “You’re always saying - you said I need to take responsibility.”

“You do,” Will said.  “For all your choices.  Not just the shyte ones.”  He gestured at the door, back towards the rest of the castle.  “You saved two lives.  You nearly got yourself killed doing it.  That’s what they’re all thanking you for.  It’s not about what you did for yourself; it’s what you did for everyone else, when you didn’t have to.  You didn’t have to come back for Merlin.  You didn’t have to follow him to Camelot.  You could have just taken Morgana’s money and run.”

“I tried,” Daegal confessed, his mouth very dry.  “I tried.  I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Will said, as if he already knew the answer.

“I just - couldn’t.”  Daegal remembered it with a nightmarish clarity, hesitating in the thickness of the undergrowth as the encroaching night muddled his vision, knowing that Merlin was suffocating at the bottom of a muddy ravine where no one would ever find his body.  “I felt like something was going to swallow me.  I would’ve rather died than felt like that all the time.”

“That’s because you know what’s right and what’s wrong,” Will said, as if he had been waiting for Daegal to say this all along.  “And you chose right.”

“I chose wrong first.”

Will shook his head.  “Lots of people choose wrong first.  Doesn’t mean that what you choose next doesn’t matter.”

Daegal played with the hem of his sleeve, wrapping a fraying thread around his finger.  Will pushed himself up from the desk and dragged Merlin’s chair over to a spot across from Daegal, then sat down.  “Listen here,” he said.  “I can’t say I’d be too pleased to get a load of gifts that I didn’t think I ought to have, either.  But you can’t give them back, and you can’t convince people that you don’t deserve them, either.”  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “You’ve got to just smile, and say thank you, and do your best to be worthy of everyone’s gifts.”

Daegal absorbed this, nodding slowly.  “I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Will said.  “And so does everyone else.”  Will met Daegal’s gaze unflinchingly, his outline illuminated at the edges by the moon at his back.  “Don’t you ever tell me that lot doesn’t know what you’re like.  They know it better than you do.”

Daegal swallowed, not trusting himself to speak.  

“Now then,” Will said, linking his hands behind the back of his chair and stretching out his arms.  “This is rubbish timing, but you’ve got to start practicing sometime, so let’s just get it over with.”  He withdrew a thin, utensil-sized package from his pocket, extending it to Daegal.  “Don’t have a crisis, now.”

“Oh - no - ” Daegal moaned.

“Oi,” Will warned.  “What’ve we just talked about?”

Daegal took the parcel.

“Smile and say thank you,” Will prompted, when Daegal did not say anything right away.

Daegal managed a wobbly smile, and an even wobblier thank you, which Will, to Daegal’s very great relief, chose not to comment upon.

Daegal untied the parcel.  The cloth casing fell away, revealing a short and sturdy pocketknife encased in a plain leather sheath.  Daegal picked it up and turned it over in his hands, knowing immediately that Will had carved the handle himself.  It fit into Daegal’s hand as if it had been moulded from a plaster cast, and it was the only part of the knife sporting any decoration, inscribed as it was with an angular script that Daegal could not read in this light.  Daegal removed the sheath and found that the blade had been sharpened to a dangerous edge, the point glinting in the moonlight.

“Elyan did that bit,” Will said.  “It ought to hold an edge better than what you have now.”

“No more mashing seed pods,” Daegal murmured.

“Exactly.”

Daegal ran a finger over the symbols carved into the handle.  He hadn’t learned all his letters yet, but he thought he ought to have been able to recognize a few of them, at least.  “What’s this writing?”

“Oh, that,” Will said, as if he had almost forgotten.  “It’s spelled.”

“Spelled?”

“Magicked.  Against slips.  To spare your fingers.”  Will waggled his own fingers in the air, and Daegal had to laugh a little.

“Merlin?”

Will’s face took on a thoughtful look.  “No, actually.”  He pointed at the unfamiliar runes, his tone becoming more serious.  “Mordred says that if you’re going to exploit his people for personal gain, then you’re going to learn something about the culture.”

Daegal froze.  A chill ran through him.  He had never even considered - 

He gripped the inscribed handle with sweaty fingers, mortified.  “He’s angry with me.”

“No,” Will said.  “I don’t think so, at least.  It’s hard to tell with that fellow.”

At Daegal’s dismayed look, Will added, “He offered to spell the thing himself, at least, so I can’t imagine he’s too upset with you.  But he has every right to be, you realize that?”

Daegal nodded quickly.     

“You’re going to go and see him,” Will said, his voice calm, but his tone brooking no argument.  “And you’re going to apologize, and you’re going to listen to whatever it is he wants to tell you.  You understand?”

“Yes,” Daegal said quickly.  “I’ll do it.”  He glanced at the door.

“Not now,” Will clarified.  “Tomorrow.  He might not be angry just yet, but he will be if you yank him out of bed a few hours before he’s supposed to be on patrol.”

Daegal’s shoulders sagged.  Will was right, but Daegal could not stand the thought of waiting.  Yet another guilt-monster was chewing a hole in his stomach, and he was starting to think those gnawing teeth would never let him sleep.  He recalled, suddenly, with a fresh wave of horror, the outrage on Merlin’s face when Daegal’s falsified triskele had smeared away, how tightly Merlin’s fingers had dug into Daegal’s wrist.  

Here was one more stupid thing Daegal had done.  One more person he’d injured.  One more wrongheaded decision.  

His eyes drifted longingly towards the door again.  

“No,” Will said, shaking his head.  “You made that bed, now you lie in it for one night.”  

Daegal sighed, and Will’s tone softened.  “You’ll make it right in the morning,” he said.

Daegal traced one of the Druidic runes with a finger.  He supposed that was the best he could do.

Will stood up and beckoned for Daegal to join him.  “Listen,” he said, pushing Merlin’s chair back under the desk.  “It’s late.  I don’t want you up all night brooding over this, all right?”

“All right,” Daegal said, but he had a feeling he was in for yet another night of lying awake under a blanket of guilt he had woven for himself.

“And - not that this needs to be said, but let’s not tell anyone you’ve got a magic pocketknife, all right?  Pendragon will think I’ve been messing about with enchantments behind his back, and he’ll have me booted out of this kingdom faster than you can say insufferable bastard.”

“But you don’t have - ”

“Yes, I do,” Will reminded Daegal, giving him a significant look.  “And that’s exactly what you’re going to tell people, if anybody starts asking questions.”  He opened Merlin’s door, ushering Daegal through it.  “But let’s not give folk a reason to ask, all right?  Otherwise the next person trying to kill the king might be me, because if Pendragon wants me out of this place he’s going to have to execute me and exile my corpse, no matter if I did sign a stupid promise ‘renouncing the practice of magic in all its forms,’ or whatever other rubbish that idiot asked me to agree to.”

Daegal followed Will across the main chamber, watching while Will pulled on his outerwear.  “I’m guessing he never gave you a land grant, then?”

Will burst into laughter, leaning heavily on the door handle.  He only remembered to clap a hand over his mouth when a slumbering Gaius snorted and rolled over.  “Oh, lor,” he wheezed, trying to recover himself.  “Don’t do that to me.”  

Daegal smiled sheepishly.  Will straightened up, his eyes creased with pure, undisciplined mirth.  “You won’t let all those fancy presents go to your head, now, will you?”

“I won’t,” Daegal promised.   “But - about Arthur’s gift, though.  I don’t actually know what to do with a plot of land.”

“Neither does Arthur,” Will said, rolling his eyes.  “But I do, and so does Merlin.  We’ll work it out together, all right?”

“All right,” Daegal said, as Will unlatched the door.  “Erm.  Will - ”

“Yeah.”

Smile and say thank you.  “Thank you,” Daegal said, trying on a smile for size, hoping it did not falter too much at the corners.  “For the knife, and - everything else.”

Will regarded him in that way of his that was very off-putting when you did not want to be read like a book but somehow oddly useful when you were trying to communicate something unspoken.  “You’re welcome,” Will said finally, surprising Daegal by reaching out and mussing his hair.  “See?  You’ve got the hang of things already.”

Will turned to go, but when he reached the top of the staircase he paused, glancing back.  “And, listen - ” he said, his voice low enough not to wake Gaius, but somehow warm enough to push back the December chill.  “Whether you like it or not - happy birthday, lad.”

Daegal sat tucked away in one of the window nooks, his cloak wrapped around him like a blanket and the glass casement leaching heat away from his side.  Merlin was long since abed, and Gaius’s muffled snores filled the main chamber, a soft drone of sound behind the screens.  Outside, the moon hung chubby and ovoid in the sky, like a pale seed on a black field of soil, like the bulbs Daegal would plant in his new garden, which was out there somewhere, nestled in the farming fields of the Sprawl.

He rubbed his thumb over the unfamiliar runes carved into the handle of his birthday blade.  His sixteen year-old self would have thrown that knife away, just to be safe.  There would have been no reason for him to believe that someone he’d injured would ever magick a gift for him just to be helpful, and sixteen year-old Daegal would have assumed that the spell “to spare his fingers” was in fact a curse to make sure they all fell off.  

But seventeen year-old Daegal was determined not to think like that anymore.  He was not going to think the worst of everyone who tried to help him, and he was not going to throw away gifts, whether he thought he deserved them or not.  He was going to smile, and say thank you, and do his best to be worthy of what he’d been given.

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, looking down at the flickering lights on the city walls and the dark countryside beyond.  The Sprawl’s rolling jumble of cottages and fields melted into a shadowy sea of forest, and far away, the looming bulk of the White Mountains towered over the skyline, the peaks’ black silhouettes only distinguishable at this hour by an absence of stars.  

It was a very big world, Daegal thought, following the craggy outline of the range with his eyes.  And he had made plenty of bad decisions blundering around within its borders, that was certain.  But there was something beautiful about it still, even in the dead of winter.  

And it was not nearly as bleak as it had appeared to be, this time last year.  

Seventeen was going to be different, Daegal told himself.  Like Merlin always said.  It won’t always be like this.  Things will be better.  Daegal could make them better.  He had chosen wrong first, but he could choose right next.  He could choose right from now on.  He had made a mistake, but he could make it right in the morning.  

And tonight - tonight, it was still his birthday.

It isn’t, his sixteen year-old self snapped.  

“It is,” Daegal said.  “It’s my birthday.”

Who cares, the voice scoffed.

Daegal wrapped his fingers around his unearned mark of forgiveness, the grooves of the rune-etched handle imprinting themselves into his skin.  “I do,”  he said firmly, putting every ounce of conviction he had behind the words.  “I do.”

His younger self shut its mouth.

Daegal smiled slightly.  “Happy birthday to me,” he murmured, and was surprised to find that for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it.  

Curled up against the window, he tucked his knife against his side and fixed his eyes on the horizon, settling in to wait for the sun.

[regrettablewritings]

Nevada Ramirez 4, 7, 18, and 30 if you're still doing the meme? 😘😘😘

Nevada Ramirez? I haven’t heard that name in years... 🚬 Stuff’s below the cut!

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?: If you and Nevada are in the same room, chances are he’s got a hand somewhere on you. Not in a gushy, immature way like some boy would, though: Nevada Ramirez is a man. The man. El motherfucking Trujillo. And anything that belongs to him, you’re gonna know it. Especially if it’s his woman.

A hand around your waist if you’re standing somewhere like at the bar of one of his haunts; a hand resting on your thigh at dinner or when relaxing at home; you sitting on his lap during a meeting that he, for whatever reason, deems as mandatory for you to attend.

You think (correctly) that Nevada gets two main things from doing these things. First off, he likes to rub it in other peoples’ faces. Especially if you’re all dolled up. Secondly, he likes getting a rise out of you because sometimes, he purposefully fucks with you by way of his touch. You can be at a perfectly fine night out, just you, ‘Vada, and one of his greatest allies in the game, and that’s when you’ll feel that warm, calloused palm of his drift slowly but surely up from its place on your lower thigh, all the way until it’s tiptoeing the hem of your dress. And that’s when he’s being clean about it!

7. What do they get up to on a night out?: Frankly, the concept of dates exasperate Nevada. He likes you, don’t get him wrong, but why do you have to be so needy?! But, of course, he eventually gives in every time. And every time, it’s some surprisingly classy affair. The first time you tried going to one of the clubs where he holds stake, you had a positively dreadful time. As much as he hates to admit it, your disappointment in him wounded his pride enough for him to decide to never take you on dates to similar places again unless prompted. Generally speaking, ‘Vada’s answer is to go the opposite direction: He wants to show you the finer things in life. Thanks to his connections (and fearful image in the Heights), he has fingers dipped in all kinds of locations, primarily five-star restaurants. If you’re in the mood for a simple McNugget meal, too bad! You’re gonna get sat down and lectured about why your peasant taste buds have been deprived of the superior wonders of chicken breast in demi-glace, coupled with seasonal vegetables as prepared in a panzanella salad! Because for all his gruff appearance and brusque diction, Nevada has a silver palate and he’s gonna foist that on you. (Heaven help you when you cook for this giant baby.)

In the event you’re not really feeling a dinner date, if you really bug him enough, you can squeeze a Broadway show out of him. He’s not crazy about musicals, frankly, and makes this abundantly clear when you’re picking up your tickets from the box office ( “Don’t ask for nothin’ for a month,” he grumbles). But then you catch him the next day mumbling the lyrics to “My Shot” as he gets himself ready . . . He insists he’s buying you merch at whatever shows you two go to because he wants to have more reason for you to not ask him for anything after, but you know there’s something in him that really wants to own a mug or two, or a signed poster he can have framed. If any of his men are over for whatever reason, he can easily just brush it off as something you had wanted while also getting a thrill from the absolute status symbol of being able to see one of the biggest shows in the world. Because let’s get one thing straight: No matter what the date is, no matter who planned it, Nevada’s gonna find a way to show off with it.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?: “They”? Let’s be real, now: There is no “when they fight.” Because if you two are fighting, it’s most definitely got something to do with something Nevada did or said, or didn’t do or didn’t say. But whatever it was, you’re sad or angry or both now and it’s up to him to fix it. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve made some wrong turns in this relationship, but the fact of the matter is that Nevada is a huge asshole. But he’s an asshole who’s found himself inexplicably dedicated to you. Be warned, though: He’s going to try to wait it out. He’ll be especially grumpy and moody and eerily quiet, too, trying to convince himself that whatever happened, it’s on you, or that you’re being way too sensitive or hardheaded. It doesn’t work. Mainly because Nevada is no idiot, he knows well and good that he’s an asshole. Also, you’re far more patient than he is. And what pisses him off more, frankly, is that he’s actually pretty proud of you for holding your ground. Most people let him walk all over them but not you; not his girl. . . . Fuck, why did he have to pick somebody like that?! Whatever the case, he’s not the best with talking so his go-to tends to be to try to wrap it up in a pretty bow, a la just plain buying you crap. He uses his resources to get his hands on nice dresses, designer bags, sweet shoes, tickets to shows that are supposedly impossible to get a hole of, the whole sweet deal. But you’re infuriatingly (and rightfully) stubborn about giving him your immediate forgiveness -- especially since the bastard hasn’t even actually apologized so much as he just placed all these items in the living room for you to find after you woke up! In which case, he wants to shove his face into a wall and just scream and cuss because you’re one of the only people who can pull this shit on him and live. Which forces him to resort to something more personal: Cooking. Despite his silver palate making him a rather fussy eater, Nevada typically prefers to have others cook. But don’t mistake this for being a slouch in the kitchen: If given the right tools and proper time, he’s more than capable of whipping up a glorious three-course dining experience in the comfort of your home. He holds no stops, bringing out the good table dressings and having one of his goons run out and grab him the top three wines best suited for whatever he has planned and plated. All that’s missing now is a prayer that this works because if it doesn’t, he’s going to lose it at a warehouse somewhere. Thankfully, you openly appreciate the gesture . . . Mainly because now you have him in an environment where he sort of has to talk to you about what happened. He wants to scowl, realizing he’s set up his own trap -- one that he falls into constantly. But he’s tired of this crap and just wants to be able to get into bed with you without thinking you’ll freeze him to death so he complies. He’ll listen to your points and hold his tongue, even if he doesn’t exactly agree with them. But in the end, he does apologize. There’s some obvious pout to it, he won’t even attempt to hide that, but you know that beneath it all he does mean it. “Now can we just eat already? I got a torte chilling in the fridge, if that shit gets soggy, you owe me.” Translation: “I’m ready to carry on like normal. Please love me already.”

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?: Realistically, it doesn’t work and we all know why: Nevada Ramirez is a bastard. He’s been hardened by the streets, by his life, and he actively plays a part in making it that way with his “job” as a dealer and God knows what else. We know he has a soft spot somewhere for those whom he loves, but the digging one has to do just to get there is comparable to digging out of prison with a spoon: It can technically be done, but it takes a lot of time and a lot of patience. Oh, and also Nevada has to actually like you enough. And even still it won’t be easy because he’s so stubborn and cold and ruthless. Frankly, you’d be better off without him. But suppose you do win him over. Suppose he determines he can’t and will not be without you (and you’re okay with this). Should such a miracle occur, I feel that it is helped in no small part by the fact that you provide Nevada with challenges. Not genuinely problematic ones that make him tear his hair out (no matter what he says), but things that stimulate his constantly working brain and force him to actually make efforts. For example, you can love that man all you want but sometimes, he just does things that make you slam your foot down. And when that happens, he’s gonna listen. Maybe not immediately, but time is fleeting. You were (and still probably are) a rather reserved person, especially when placed next to your partner. But the problem for Nevada is that being around him means you’ve learned a thing or two: His cusses, his intimidation tactics, whatever he uses to get his way? It’s rubbed off on you. Maybe not perfectly, but just enough to where you can use it as your own. Juxtaposed with your relatively calm demeanor and we get an icy queen who’s beyond tired of his bullshit and completely ready to let him have it when provoked. He acts like it’s no big deal and he’s doing you a favor by listening. But deep down he’s actually a bit intimidated by you when you’re like this, mainly because there’s a chance you’ll leave him and as much as he pretends it doesn’t bother him, it definitely does. He’s actually a bit impressed, not that he’d ever let you know. Going off of this, he likes a woman who’s decisive. So as much of a pain as it is while he’s doing it, he’s actually impressed when you make him work for things only you can give him. It’s a little like a thrilling chase for him, and everyone else is too pussy to actually give him one. Secondly, he sees a partner in you. And I don’t mean romantically -- he does, of course, but what I mean here is someone whom can be a benefit to his practices both in business and out. Nevada strikes me as the type of guy who prefers to keep his circle consisting of those whom he can benefit from, be it in terms of providing company or providing assistance and so on. With you, he sees potential for essentially becoming one of those power couples consisting of two stone-cold baddies: He handles the dirty work but you both are the brains behind the operations. Of course, there’s a very good chance you have a long way to go. There’s even a chance he prefers not to directly involve you in his business affairs. But even in such a case, he’d much rather have you stick around than let you walk out of his life. Because as anyone can tell you: A bored Nevada is a dangerous Nevada.

Thanks for asking!

[perfectirishgifts]

8 Leading Women In The Field Of AI

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/8-leading-women-in-the-field-of-ai/

8 Leading Women In The Field Of AI

These eight women are at the forefront of the field of artificial intelligence today. They hail from … [] academia, startups, large technology companies, venture capital and beyond.

It is a simple truth: the field of artificial intelligence is far too male-dominated. According to a 2018 study from Wired and Element AI, just 12% of AI researchers globally are female.

Artificial intelligence will reshape every corner of our lives in the coming years—from healthcare to finance, from education to government. It is therefore troubling that those building this technology do not fully represent the society they are poised to transform.

Yet there are many brilliant women at the forefront of AI today. As entrepreneurs, academic researchers, industry executives, venture capitalists and more, these women are shaping the future of artificial intelligence. They also serve as role models for the next generation of AI leaders, reflecting what a more inclusive AI community can and should look like.

Featured below are eight of the leading women in the field of artificial intelligence today.

Joy Buolamwini: Founder, Algorithmic Justice League

Joy Buolamwini has aptly been described as “the conscience of the A.I. revolution.”

Her pioneering work on algorithmic bias as a graduate student at MIT opened the world’s eyes to the racial and gender prejudices embedded in facial recognition systems. Amazon, Microsoft and IBM each suspended their facial recognition offerings this year as a result of Buolamwini’s research, acknowledging that the technology was not yet fit for public use. Buolamwini’s work is powerfully profiled in the new documentary Coded Bias.

Buolamwini stands at the forefront of a burgeoning movement to identify and address the social consequences of artificial intelligence technology, a movement she advances through her nonprofit Algorithmic Justice League.

Buolamwini on the battle against algorithmic bias: “When I started talking about this, in 2016, it was such a foreign concept. Today, I can’t go online without seeing some news article or story about a biased AI system. People are just now waking up to the fact that there is a problem. Awareness is good—and then that awareness needs to lead to action. That is the phase that we’re in.”

Claire Delaunay: VP Engineering, NVIDIA

From SRI to Google to Uber to NVIDIA, Claire Delaunay has held technical leadership roles at many of Silicon Valley’s most iconic organizations. She was also co-founder and engineering head at Otto, the pedigreed but ill-fated autonomous trucking startup helmed by Anthony Levandowski.

In her current role at NVIDIA, Delaunay is focused on building tools and platforms to enable the deployment of autonomous machines at scale.

Delaunay on the tradeoffs between working at a big company and a startup: “Some kinds of breakthroughs can only be accomplished at a big company, and other kinds of breakthroughs can only be accomplished at a startup. Startups are very good at deconstructing things and generating discontinuous big leaps forward. Big companies are very good at consolidating breakthroughs and building out robust technology foundations that enable future innovation.”

Rana el Kaliouby: CEO & Co-Founder, Affectiva

Rana el Kaliouby has dedicated her career to making AI more emotionally intelligent.

Kaliouby is credited with pioneering the field of Emotion AI. In 2009, she co-founded the startup Affectiva as a spinout from MIT to develop machine learning systems capable of understanding human emotions. Today, the company’s technology is used by 25% of the Fortune 500, including for media analytics, consumer behavioral research and automotive use cases.

Kaliouby on her big-picture vision: “My life’s work is about humanizing technology before it dehumanizes us.”

Daphne Koller: CEO & Founder, insitro

Daphne Koller’s wide-ranging career illustrates the symbiosis between academia and industry that is a defining characteristic of the field of artificial intelligence.

Koller has been a professor at Stanford since 1995, focused on machine learning. In 2012 she co-founded education technology startup Coursera with fellow Stanford professor and AI leader Andrew Ng. Coursera is today a $2.6 billion ed tech juggernaut.

Koller’s most recent undertaking may be her most ambitious yet. She is the founding CEO at insitro, a startup applying machine learning to transform pharmaceutical drug discovery and development. Insitro has raised roughly $250 million from Andreessen Horowitz and others and recently announced a major commercial partnership with Bristol Myers Squibb.

Koller on advice for those just starting out in the field of AI: “Pick an application of AI that really matters, that is really societally worthwhile—not all AI applications are—and then put in the hard work to truly understand that domain. I am able to build insitro today only because I spent 20 years learning biology. An area I might suggest to young people today is energy and the environment.”

Fei-Fei Li: Professor of Computer Science, Stanford University

Few individuals have left more of a mark on the world of AI in the twenty-first century than Fei-Fei Li.

As a young Princeton professor in 2007, Li conceived of and spearheaded the ImageNet project, a database of millions of labeled images that has changed the entire trajectory of AI. The prescient insight behind ImageNet was that massive datasets—more than particular algorithms—would be the key to unleashing AI’s potential. When Geoff Hinton and team debuted their neural network-based model trained on ImageNet at the 2012 ImageNet competition, the modern era of deep learning was born.

Li has since become a tenured professor at Stanford, served as Chief Scientist of AI/ML at Google Cloud, headed Stanford’s AI lab, joined the Board of Directors at Twitter, cofounded the prominent nonprofit AI4ALL, and launched Stanford’s Human-Centered AI Institute (HAI). Across her many leadership positions, Li has tirelessly advocated for a more inclusive, equitable and human approach to AI.

Li on why diversity in AI is so important: “Our technology is not independent of human values. It represents the values of the humans that are behind the design, development and application of the technology. So, if we’re worried about killer robots, we should really be worried about the creators of the technology. We want the creators of this technology to represent our values and represent our shared humanity.”

Anna Patterson: Founder & Managing Partner, Gradient Ventures

Anna Patterson has led a distinguished career developing and deploying AI products, both at large technology companies and at startups.

A long-time executive at Google, which she first joined in 2004, Patterson led artificial intelligence efforts for years as the company’s VP of Engineering. In 2017 she launched Google’s AI venture capital fund Gradient Ventures, where today she invests in early-stage AI startups.

Patterson serves on the board of a number of promising AI startups including Algorithmia, Labelbox and test.ai. She is also a board director at publicly-traded Square.

Patterson on one question she asks herself before investing in any AI startup: “Do I find myself constantly thinking about their vision and mission?”

Daniela Rus: Director, MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab (CSAIL)

Daniela Rus is one of the world’s leading roboticists.

She is an MIT professor and the first female head of MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab (CSAIL), one of the largest and most prestigious AI research labs in the world. This makes her part of a storied lineage: previous directors of CSAIL (and its predecessor labs) over the decades have included AI legends Marvin Minsky, J.C.R. Licklider and Rodney Brooks.

Rus’ groundbreaking research has advanced the state of the art in networked collaborative robots (robots that can work together and communicate with one another), self-reconfigurable robots (robots that can autonomously change their structure to adapt to their environment), and soft robots (robots without rigid bodies).

Rus on a common misconception about AI: “It is important for people to understand that AI is nothing more than a tool. Like any other tool, it is neither intrinsically good nor bad. It is solely what we choose to do with it. I believe that we can do extraordinarily positive things with AI—but it is not a given that that will happen.”

Shivon Zilis: Board Member, OpenAI; Project Director, Neuralink

Shivon Zilis has spent time on the leadership teams of several companies at AI’s bleeding edge: OpenAI, Neuralink, Tesla, Bloomberg Beta.

She is the youngest board member at OpenAI, the influential research lab behind breakthroughs like GPT-3. At Neuralink—Elon Musk’s mind-bending effort to meld the human brain with digital machines—Zilis works on high-priority strategic initiatives in the office of the CEO.

Zilis on her attitude toward new technology development: “I’m astounded by how often the concept of ‘building moats’ comes up. If you think the technology you’re building is good for the world, why not laser focus on expanding your tech tree as quickly as possible versus slowing down and dividing resources to impede the progress of others?”

From AI in Perfectirishgifts

[tempesrature]

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 8

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary:  “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?”  - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

Ellie stands in front of the basement door of the Kilat’s home and her hand hover over the wooden surface as she unlocks the door from the complex spell she placed on it.

Colt wrinkles his nose at the memory of the smell downstairs. “Do we really need go down there again?”

“We have to Colt,” Ellie says just as the lock on the door clicks open. “You’ll be fine. Just think of a nymph’s smell or something.”

Colt scoffs as he follows her down the stairs. “Just so you know nymphs smell like really strong floral perfume it’s disgusting—oh fuck!”

“What? What did you find?” Ellie whirls around to face him as Colt presses his mouth and nose against the inside of his elbow while he looks at her in shock and disbelief.

“Ellie, the smell!” Colt gags. “How has it gotten worse?!”

Ellie wrinkles her nose as she looks around the room but sees nothing out of the ordinary. “Must be the ingredients going bad. It has been a month since they’ve been maintained.”

“Give me the enchanted handkerchief,” Colt motions with his other hand. “Hurry, I’m literally going to pass out!”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Ellie rolls her eyes but manifests the handkerchief nonetheless and hands it to him. Colt grabs it out of her hand and presses it against his nose. He sighs in relief and takes deep inhales of breath. “Great. Now that we’ve solved your nose problem let’s go back to actually solving the murder.”

Colt glares at her and he’s absolutely baffled at how he can even begin to like a girl like her. But Ellie ignores him as she moves around the room and tries her best to look at the scene with fresh eyes.

“By the way,” Ellie calls out as she looks at the tools on the table in the middle of the room. “Where was Toby really on the first of July?”

Colt scoffs because he already knows what a terrible liar Toby is. “He was with his lover. It was their anniversary.”

Ellie looks back at him and furrows her eyebrows. “And he lied about that because…?”

Colt shrugs as he looks at the jars on the shelves. “The lover’s a mortal. Been together for three years now.”

“Seriously?” Ellie looks at his back cautiously. “And you’re…okay with that?”

“Like I give a shit who he dates El,” Colt turns to look at Ellie with a pointed look. “And am I really in the position to say anything about it?”

Ellie opens her mouth to argue. That he is the head of the Kaneko family and he has complete authority over his crew so of course he’s in the position to say something about it. But she quickly realizes that that’s not what he’s getting at. Rather it’s the fact that he himself is a half-vampire and Toby just dating a mortal doesn’t even hold a candle to his predicament.

“Fair point.”

“Mm,” Colt replies with a smile before he walks around to the table to look at the different utensils and tools on it. “You’ve already gone through this place for close to a month now. What else could you have missed?”

“I don’t know Colt,” Ellie sighs in exasperation, the question seemingly setting off something in her, as she throws her hands in the air before she starts to pace in frustration and anger. “I feel like I’ve just been ramming my head at a wall for the past month. I’ve looked through so much of this place I can even project it down to its nasty molds. Maybe I’m just a bad detective? Maybe that’s why this case isn’t getting solved!”

“Hey, hey,” Colt grabs her shoulder with one hand to stop her pacing. He turns her to him and gently fits his palm against her cheek to calm her down. He searches her dark blue eyes and sees the fear and exhaustion in them. “You’re panicking El. Don’t pace and conserve you’re energy or you’re gonna get dizzy.”

Ellie scoffs but she places her hand on top of his and squeezes it in gratitude. “I’m not going to get dizzy. I’ve spent so much time here I’ve probably gotten used to the smell…” Her eyes narrow as she looks down and an idea dances around the edges of her brain. She latches on to it, the conclusion so clear it sends her heart pounding. Her eyes snap back to him in a wild panic.

“Colt, answer me honestly. How bad is the smell?”

Colt scoffs. “I don’t need to lie to you El, the smell is awful. I feel like I can taste it now.”

“Exactly,” Ellie steps away from him before she turns around to look at shelves full of bottles and jars. Suddenly, she feels like she’s looking at it in a new light. “Colt. If it’s the ingredients going bad that’s causing this smell. Why are you smelling it and I’m not?”

Colt’s eyes widen at the realization. He moves to stand next to her and they turn to each other with sparkling eyes as they both reach the conclusion at the same time.

“You can’t smell magical creatures.” “I can’t smell magical creatures.”

Ellie immediately reaches up to him and tugs the hand that’s holding the handkerchief. “Take it off and pinpoint where the smell is coming from. Hurry.”

Colt groans as he tilts his head to the floor. “The things I do for you…”

He takes a deep breath before he removes the handkerchief from his nose and takes a deep inhale of breathe. He immediately feels woozy but he pushes past it and tries to locate where the scent is stronger. After a few shaky circles of the room he eventually picks it up somewhere in the back of two shelves and Colt quickly points to it before he slaps the handkerchief back on his nose.

“There,” He says shakily as his gagging almost muffles the word. “Probably at the back.”

“Got it,” Ellie says as she gathers the magic in her hand and slowly and efficiently levitates the shelves to the side. Her eyes immediately latch on to the dusty and moldy space hidden behind the shelves.

But that’s all there is and she can’t hide her disappointment. “Nothing…”

“Check the walls. That’s where I’d put it if I’m trying to hide something,” Ellie gives him a look and Colt raises an eyebrow at her. “What?”

Ellie decides it’s not worth it as she moves forward, places her hands flat on the wall and lets her hands wander all over the surface of the wall. She tries to be thorough and careful to make sure she can catch anything out of the ordinary. She kneels down on the floor and moves her hands lower until—there! The wall near the floor. The wood feels uneven. She takes a step back, concentrates her magic and makes sure that the hole she’ll cut into won’t disturb whatever is hidden behind. Blue sparks jump out of her hand and immediately coats the wall and with a small bang and a cloud of smoke, it reveals what’s hidden behind the walls.

“What the fuck is that?!” Colt exclaims as the cloud of smoke dissipates and he peers into the small hidden compartment behind the wall. “Is that…is that a magical creature? Is it…dead?”

Ellie frowns when something starts to scratch at the back of her brain and she doesn’t want to believe it. She doesn’t even want to think of it as a possibility. But her gut is telling her that all signs, all the clues and all the evidence points to one truth.

“Yeah, he looks decomposed. Probably here for a month, maybe longer,” Ellie says with heartbreak as she looks at the small magical creature bound and gagged inside the wall. He resembles that of a gnome but his features are different and his skin is darker. “Colt…what does he smell like?”

“Seriously El?!” Colt shouts as he readies himself to fight her. That yeah, he likes her sure but he’s not going to smell a dead and decomposing magical creature for her. But he pauses when he sees the expression on her face, pleading in a broken and sad look. He crumbles and relents to her request as he steps closer, moves the handkerchief a hairsbreadth down his nose and takes a whiff. He recoils in shock and disgust as he coughs and tries to get a hold of his weak gag reflex.

“Like straight up ass Ellie.”

Ellie squeezes her eyes shut. Her face morphing into pain as the truth finally unravels before her.

“Yeah…and not the good kind.”

Colt furrows his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Ellie sighs and waves her hand to cover the hole with the wood she cut out of it to help minimize the smell for Colt. She turns to him and tries her best to appear calm, to appear like this doesn’t bother her, but she knows she fails when Colt reaches to her hand and squeezes tight. And she’s grateful for his presence and comfort because just that small gesture gives her the strength to reveal the thoughts she has untangled in her head.

“The last time we were here and after you left, Ana was talking about how she needed to come down to the basement to clean up the jars of duwende or it’s going to start to smell and start knocking out creatures. I thought she was talking about an ingredient on the shelves. But apparently not. That,” Ellie gestures to the wall. “Is the duwende she was talking about.”

Colt’s eyes widen as his grip tightens on her hand. “So…what? She used that to knock out her parents and then killed them?”

“Most likely. Frequent exposure to the smell with little to no ventilation can start to pile up,” She explains as she lets go of Colt’s hand and makes her way towards the basement stairs.  

“And they just didn’t notice the smell?” Colt sighs in relief when he follows her up the stairs. Finally away from the terrible smell.

“You smelled what it was like before,” Ellie says as she reaches the top of the stairs. Colt quickly moves past her, throws the handkerchief to the side and takes big breathes of fresh air while she turns around to lock the basement door. “Even you couldn’t pick up the smell but you felt its effects. It was also probably masked by the odor of the ingredients but the smell got stronger the longer the decomposition progressed in the unventilated room.”

Ellie turns to him and leans her body against the door as another realization hits her. “She had bottles on her vanity. Potions that could heal cuts and bruises instantly and leave no scars behind,” She rubs her forehead in exasperation as she squeezes her eyes shut. “Ingrid said that their femoral arteries were cut but there was no visible injury. She drained the blood and used that medicine to heal it. No wonder no one in the morgue could find out what was used. Her father made the medicine specifically just for her.”

“El,” Colt calls out to her and Ellie opens her eyes to look at him. He frowns when he recalls the conversation they had in Ana’s bedroom. “She said her parents didn’t want her to take on the family business. Care to guess what that might be?”

Ellie’s eyes widen before she grits her teeth in frustration. “Fern Libation.”

Colt hums in agreement. “Guess that’s why I never smelled the Fern Flower. She must’ve moved most of it before she called the Agency.”

Ellie nods and suddenly something in her stomach knots. So much so that she feels it as a physical ache and she wraps her arms around her torso. A painful and awful thought comes to her where she has no choice but to look away from Colt to hide away the tears that prick her eyes.

“Colt…do you think this is my fault? I got too close to Ana and I let my bias and past experiences cloud my judgement. How many creatures and mortal lives has she ruined by continuing to make and sell Fern Libation in the last month? If I just solved this logically and I didn’t let my emotions get the better of me. Would I have solved this case sooner?”

“Bullshit El,” Colt moves towards her and pulls her into a tight hug. He squeezes her hard as if he can physically squeeze the uncertainties out of her. “You did what you could with the resources you had. You’re a good person with good intentions and she took advantage of that. That’s on her, not you. Hell, you conned a Primordial vampire into helping you with this investigation. That in itself is fucking amazing.”

Ellie lets out a chocked laugh as she untangles her arms from her torso and wraps it around his own. She buries her face into his chest and murmurs her next words with a teasing tone.

“Half a vampire.”

Colt bursts into laughter as he tightens his arms around her. His voice light and full of relief. “You’re so annoying.”

Ellie hums in agreement before she leans back and wipes away her tears. She looks up at him and her eyes soften. “Thanks Colt.”

She immediately recovers and steels her resolve so she can plot her next move. “We still don’t know why she drained their blood and what she plans to do with it. We need to find her,” Ellie pulls on his hand to look at his wristwatch and she lets out a small curse. They have three more hours left. “Let’s go check her friend’s house first. Backup from the Agency won’t get there within three hours but we can make it in under twenty minutes.”

Colt grins as he reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Right there with you, El.”

[davidmann95]

All-Star Superman Annotations: Smash Mouth

In the late 1990s, Grant Morrison legendarily met ‘Superman’ in a self-described shamanic encounter outside the San Diego convention center at 2 in the morning and questioned him. His answers and general demeanor inspired his take on the character in his 1998 Superman 2000/Superman NOW pitch alongside Mark Waid, Mark Millar, and Tom Peyer, and later his seminal All-Star Superman alongside Frank Quitely, Jamie Grant, Phil Balsman, and Travis Lanham.

The year after that initial pitch - whether out of the transcendent synchronicities Morrison has written on underlying the seeming arbitrary mundanity of day-to-day life, or significant behind-closed-doors dealings - Smash Mouth released its equally seminal All-Star.

The superheroic associations are immediately evident. But Mystery Men (very fun movie) and Steve Harwell lifting a bus are but the tip of the iceberg. Or perhaps more appropriately the edge of a cliff, for when you peer within, the connections here go deep.

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead

The opening of the song is obviously an evocation of the underlying rivalry between longtime nemeses’ Superman and Lex Luthor, with the latter mocking his erstwhile opponent on his idealistic shortsightedness in Lex’s mind, as well as that by poisoning him via solar radiation overdose he has at last triumphed. Of course, as the narrative remains on Superman’s side, Luthor’s worldview is exposed as self-aggrandizing solipsism, rendering him looking kind of dumb. That the figure of the song is referred to as ‘she’ is curious; perhaps this is in fact Nasthalsia ‘Nasty’ Luthor. Or it may refer to a sort of conceptual malleability of identity referring to Luthor’s eventual transformation via rehabilitation and time-travel into Leo Quintum, a decidedly more flamboyant and effeminate figure than the decidedly machismo-poisoned Luthor.

Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do, so much to see So what's wrong with taking the back streets? You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow

‘Hit the ground running’ is an apt choice of words when the title of the first chapter is Faster...; the progression of time and defiance of rules, going down the backstreets, can be read as his reaching beyond the typical rules and structures that have fenced him in over decades of continuity and tradition in the face of his pending mortality, such as revealing his identity to Lois (his realization of his mistreatment of her and their relationship as his intellect increases corresponds neatly to his brain getting smart but his head getting dumb), freeing Kandor, and entrusting humanity and Quintum/Luthor specifically with his genetic legacy.

Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold

Morrison referenced in his All-Star Superman exit interview with Newsarama his initial frustration with the All-Star brand going on his definitive Superman text, seeing it as an intrusive corporate logo (not knowing that it would ultimately come to be associated predominantly with that one story) when he wanted his story to be seen simply as ‘Superman’. Choosing to work with what he had, his story finds Superman becoming a literal golden glittering all-star shooting across the sky, pure information, an untouchable incorporeal living myth sprung from a man as akin to the ‘rock star’ image formed around ordinary people (such as Morrison himself in his younger days with his band The Mixers). The subject of payment will be returned to at the conclusion.

It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now, wait till you get older But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire, how about yours? That's the way I like it and I never get bored

This verse at first appears to be in reference to the coming of the freezing All-Night of the Bizarro Underverse, and Superman’s return as a ‘meteor man’ crashing into a travelling circus. However, while this is a neat narrative transition it is in fact in reference to metaphorical coldness and figurative meteor men, in the form of Bar-El and Lilo, and Superman’s reckoning with his Kryptonian heritage (though the opening lines also evoke the emotional coldness and grappling with mortality that define #5-6: it is this central 6-issue chunk that make up the night side of the archetypal journey into the underworld and rebirth that Morrison has commented formed the mythical structure of the series). The ‘hole in the satellite picture’ is interesting; it could be seen as a roundabout reference to the Kryptonian couple’s conquest of human culture as seen in Metropolis both architecturally and in Jimmy’s adoption of Kryptonian overpants and belt, culminating in the literal hole in the moon (symbolic of dreams, as all culture is the product of) patched up with human cultural artifacts such as the Golden Gate Bridge. More pertinently however, it evokes General Zod’s command of the airwaves in 2013′s Man of Steel, where he not only inhabits a colonialist view of planet Earth evocative of Bar-El and Lilo, but mentions that Superman “could have built a New Krypton in this squalor”, a direct line lift from the issue. Either the time-bending syncronicities go further than initially realized, Morrison played an extremely long game while consulting on the film, or Zack Snyder is not only in fact in possession of the deep understanding of Superman and his source material that his apologists claim, but himself figured this all out a very long time ago and adjusted his work accordingly. In any case, the Kryptonian astronauts’ belief in the “uncontested superiority and grandeur of Kryptonian culture” is impotent in the face of their own failing bodies and ultimate realization that Superman is right; their time has passed, the ice getting thin, and Superman’s kindness and willingness to engage human culture on its own terms - to swim - must carry the day. Per Morrison, “In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.” (Bolding my own)

(Chorus repeats)

Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas? I need to get myself away from this place I said yep what a concept I could use a little fuel myself And we could all use a little change

The final non-repeating section of the song represents a final struggle between Luthor’s materialistic outlook, only able to see ‘change’ and ‘fuel’ in crass physical, monetary terms, while the enlightened Superman - transformed by his own process of personal growth and forthcoming elevation to solar deity - is capable of discerning a deeper meaning. That this is framed as an exchange, and more specifically an education, hints at Lex’s lesson at the hands of his senses in the worthwhile of the immaterial, divine unity of humanity that will prompt his transformation into Quintum, tying the story in a neat loop. Incidentally, the prospect of ‘change’ as monetary value while not a prominent factor in All-Star Superman will go on to have significant roles in both his major subsequent Superman works, Action Comics and Multiversity (the latter of which by his own admission evokes All-Star in its Thunderworld Adventures chapter, going on to reckon with the capitalistic give-and-take of commercial storytelling aiming for the type of enlightenment Morrison seeks to provide in its concluding issue), advancing the connections of the song to All-Star’s post-release impact as well as its text.

(Chorus repeats, concluding the song)

A final note: but the Meteor Men beg to differ is not only the most Jack Kirby-ass line that dude never wrote, but always reminds me of the 1993 Robert Townsend picture The Meteor Man, which I apparently viewed as a child and which I have always misremembered as having a direct connection to the 1978 Superman. I could swear I recall a bit of a picture being shown of a man with a meteor that’s the same picture of the man who found Kryptonite in the Donner film, the latter of which of course was a tremendous influence on All-Star Superman.

[scifigeneration]

New technologies to recycle electronic waste

by Jean-Christophe P. Gabriel

Pulsed extraction column (normally positioned vertically). JCP Gabriel, CEA Marcoule DES/ISEC/DMRC

Our connected consumer society generates a lot of electronic waste, around 50 million tonnes per year worldwide. It is even currently the waste that shows the strongest growth from one year to the next. The value of the raw materials included in this waste is estimated at 50-60 billion euros, depending on materials prices. Legislation and recycling channels for this waste are organised in many countries, thanks to extended producer responsibility systems, but currently only 20% is recycled in a certified process . In addition, of the sixty chemical elements present in electronic waste, only a minority is recycled, ten in number_: gold, silver, platinum, cobalt, tin, copper, iron, aluminium and lead). Everything else ends up _ in fine_ wasted in landfills.

The ideal, from the point of view of the circular economy, would be on the one hand to prolong as much as possible the lifespan of these electronic devices, in particular by prolonging the first use, and on the other hand to facilitate and favour reuse or repair. The fact remains that these landfills represent real “urban mines”: potential deposits for those who know how to exploit them.

How do we deal with electronic waste?

Recycling electronic waste means separating materials, molecules or chemical elements, so that they can be sold as raw materials for the manufacture of new products. First you have to dismantle the devices and components, sort them, grind them, and finally separate the materials, most often by incineration and then by solution based chemical processes.

Getting more chemicals from the urban mine is easier said than done. Electronic waste is very varied in nature and is often mixed with other types of wastes. The composition of the waste to be treated therefore varies from one shovel of waste incinerator’s ash or from one batch of waste to another. This contrasts with the exploitation of a “traditional” mine where the composition of the ore is much simpler and constant, at least in comparison.

The chemist is faced with an extremely complex separation problem. This partly explains why the recycling industry is currently focusing on the most concentrated or economically attractive metals to recover, hence the list above.

New strategy: dismantle, sort, grind, dissolve

Sorting aims to minimize the chemical complexity of the mixture to be treated, as well as its variability. It can be done at all scales: that of the device (type, generation), of its modules (printed circuits, batteries, external envelopes, frames, etc.), of their elementary electronic components (cables, resistances, capacities, chips, bare boards etc.), or even at the level of the powder resulting from grinding, which can be carried out on all the scales described.

The complete disassembly of devices is theoretically the most effective approach. But, due to the multiplicity and complexity of equipment, it’s difficult to automate this step: disassembly is still mainly carried out manually, which means that its cost is often too high to allow sorting down to the level of the elementary components.

Consequently, the most common approach among recyclers (MTB, Paprec, Véolia), before any chemical treatment, is the grinding at the scale of the device or its modules, followed by steps of separation of the particles by physical methods using the differences in densities or magnetic properties. Depending on the purity of the powders obtained, thermal or chemical treatments are then used to refine the composition of the final products.

Pulsed extraction column, 5 cm diameter. JCP Gabriel, CEA Marcoule DES/ISEC/DMRC, Author provided

In the latter case, the most used process of separation in solution of chemical elements is the so-called liquid-liquid extraction. It usually consists first of dissolving the metals or their oxides in an acid (for example nitric acid), then making an emulsion, that is to say the equivalent of a French vinaigrette. The acid solution (“vinegar”) is vigorously mixed with an organic solvent (such as kerosene, “oil”) in an extraction column and one or more molecules (��mustard”) having the property of promoting the transfer of certain metals (“flavours”) from acid to solvent. As this separation step is rarely perfect, it is repeated in series in order to reach the desired purity levels. Several dozen, even several hundred, successive extractions are sometimes necessary to achieve the desired purity.

Optimising the costs and efficiency of such processes requires the study of the influence of a very large number of parameters (for example, the concentrations of chemical species, acidity, temperature, etc.) in order to define the combination which represents the best compromise.

New processes to increase the recycling rate

In the laboratory SCARCE, we are working on new processes which will ultimately allow “ increase the number of chemical elements recycled and increase their recycling rates: on the one hand with mechanical processes (automation of disassembly and sorting), on the other hand with chemical extraction processes in solution.

For example, as we have seen, the chemical composition of electronic waste is very variable. The development of an extraction process, for a specific chemical composition, can easily take five to ten years of research and optimization and the adaptation of an existing process to a new composition (for example a new metal) requires several months to several years. This is hardly compatible with the volumes of waste, the resources and the time available for recycling waste.

Microscopic piping to optimize the extraction of elements

To reduce the time and cost of developing new extraction processes, we have miniaturized and integrated in a single device microfluidics automated all the equipment necessary for a process study. In a microfluidic device, the piping is smaller than a millimetre (in our case 100 µm thick, the thickness of two hairs or less). This allows very small amounts of material to be used: a few microliters of solvents and acids instead of millilitres, and a few milligrams of chemical compounds instead of grams. With the integration of analysis methods (X-rays, infrared and sensors), we can study the different combinations of parameters continuously, automatically and quickly. This allows us to do a study in a few days which can normally take up to several months.

Elemental component of the 5 cm side extraction microfluidic chip. Fluids flow through the half-pipe in a zigzag pattern and the chemical elements pass through a membrane sandwiched between two such components. The piping, pumps and analysis modules, e.g. infrared, are added. A. El Mangaar, JCP Gabriel, CEA, Author provided

Additional advantage of microfluidics compared to a conventional device: we better understand the phenomena of transfers of chemical elements at the interface between water and oil. Indeed, we control both the exchange surface between water and oil thanks to the use of a porous membranes, as well as the contact time between the two phases, which are pushed into the microfluidic channels using computer controlled syringe pumps. Material flows can then be calculated precisely.

Recovery of rare earths: precious and little recycled materials

This approach recently allowed us to study the extraction of strategic metals found in mobile phones. These metals, essential in modern technologies, are produced mainly in China and are little recycled at present – under 5%. This is all the more unfortunate as their production is very expensive and can pose societal and environmental problems.

Our results show that the combination of two specific extracting molecules makes it possible to extract rare earths with an efficiency almost 100 times greater than the efficiency of extractions with the molecules used separately. In addition, we have demonstrated efficient extraction at acid concentrations 10 to 100 times lower than those used in industry, which generates less pollution. We have also identified combinations of parameters that make it possible to separate the rare earths much more efficiently from each other, which is conventionally very difficult to achieve in a few steps. We are now studying the transposition of these results, obtained on a very small scale, to that of the industrial production tool.

Finally, our microfluidic approach is modular which means that each of the modules can find its usefulness in other cases, for example, the liquid-liquid extraction module can be useful for the study of processes of extraction of organic molecules (essential oils); or the infrared spectroscopy module for online monitoring of agrifood or pharmaceutical processes. It allows you to determine the amount of unbound water – it is the water that surrounds the molecules that are dissolved in it, but that do not interact with them, a key parameter to follow in many formulations of these industries.

About The Author:

Jean-Christophe P. Gabriel, Directeur de Recherche au CEA (IRAMIS/NIMBE de Saclay) et Professeur invité à NTU/ERI@N (Singapour), Commissariat à l’énergie atomique et aux énergies alternatives (CEA)

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

[dachi-chan25]

I finished my tbr but I didn't liked a lot of the books, I am so disappointed, I read 2 extra graphic novels to at least get something I did like so yeah.

1-Cinco Horas Con Mario - Miguel Delibes

🌟🌟

Se que es un clásico de la literatura española pero es que la mujer es insufrible de verdad que es una basura de personaje totalmente despreciable y prejuiciosa el concepto del libro me atrajo muchísimo pero de verdad que yo no puedo con el monólogo interno de esta mujer.

2.- The Young Elites - Marie Lu

🌟🌟

I think I know what they were going for with Adelina, Marie Lu was going for an anti hero or a fallen hero but Adelina lacked so much depth for that to be the case, sadly the worldbuilding wasn't great either, again the premise seemed intriguing to me but I didn't like the characters or the plot and seeing as this is very character driven I couldn't enjoy it nor am I inclined to read the next books.

3.- A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole

🌟🌟

I was so disappointed, I became intrested in this after reading about the author and how this book came to be published. But I am sorry to say I just couldn't connect with any of the characters or the humor so yeah it wasn't an enjoyable read for me at all.

4.-Athena's Champion - David Hair/Cath Mayo

🌟🌟🌟

It was ok, I felt pretty luckwarm toward this, which is surprising as I loved the Moontide Quartet by David Hair, and this "prequel" to the Illiad certainly sounded like something I would enjoy but it felt so juvenile and again the characters annoyed me a lot, idk maybe I wasn't in the right mood for it.

5.-Four Dead queens - Astrid Scholtte

🌟🌟

The worldbuilding made no sense to me. It was predictable and the villian was a caricature, the romance was bland and the relationship I did care about came to nothing because the title itself spoils the queens die, like I just don't get how a system that doesn't work for anyone literally even the rulers disliked the Queenly Law is still going on.

6.-Kingsbane (Empirium #2)- Claire Legrand

🌟🌟

Whyyyyyy??? I really liked the first book, and unpopular opinion but I liked both queens, but this book was so wierd, Rielle felt like a whole new character like I was curious as to how she came to be the Blood Queen and it was such a disappointment I hoped for more, and Elena didn't fare much better, I just - I will not continue the series I just didn't like this book at all and i don't see how it will recover from the point it left us.

7.-The Kingdom of Cooper (Daevad Trilogy #2) - S.A Chakraborty

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Finally some good food!!!! So by this point I pretty much thought I was brain dead and didn't like reading anymore but this book returned my faith. Why hadn't I read this??? Nahri goes through so much in this book and I really love how much Ali and she complement each other, how idelistic and caring they both are, like I really want them together not only romantically (I mean I know they in laws but let's be honest Muntadhir would rather be married to Nahri's brother, soooo we can work it out) Dara fucked up but I did feel for him, like I don't support what he is doing but the politics of it were complicated, and well Daevad is a mess rn so yeah I am dying to see what happens next.

8.-Candide - Voltaire

🌟🌟🌟

It was pretty funny and there is a lot of satire going on, I always appreciate that.

9.- La Senda del mexica - Joaquin Guerrero Casasola

🌟🌟🌟

Me encanto el concepto, una novela negra ubicada en Tenochtitlan es algo que de verdad me intrigaba, sobre todo porque utilizan el concepto de detective viejo que ya duda de sus habilidades, Opochtli no es un personaje que me agradara en particular pero lo disfrute como protagonista y la historia aunque bastante sencilla fue muy original y descriptiva, realmente me pude imaginar todos los sabores y colores que describía Opochtli y eso lo aprecio mucho.

10.- King Lear - William Shakespeare

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

This is a re-read for me, this play is one of my favorites and I enjoy a lot to read it every now and then.

11.- Bury what we cannot take - Kristen Chen

🌟🌟🌟

This book is about a family that seeks to flee China during the Mao regimen to go to Hong Kong where the father lives with his mistress, the mother is unable to get permission for all of them leaves San San her young daughter then faces horrors as she tries to catch up with her family as her brother who was very loyal to the party tries to go back. I thought it was a great read really moving, but the end felt too open for me I wanted more I wanted to go deeper and Stronger w some themes so it left me dissatisfied.

12.- The Priory of the orange tree - Samantha Shannon

🌟🌟🌟🌟

I loved it!!!! The mythology surrounding the dragons and wyrms was great, the different realms w their different systems. The religion, in Virtudom especially where the ruler is believed to be a descendant from the Saint (and that plot twist), the characters and how well developed they were. Sabran and Ead! !!!! Like I was hoping they would be the saphicc romance everyone raved about cuz I loved their interactions, like I lost hope for a second there but then I was so happy when it came to happen, as a matter of fact the only reason why I didn't give this 5 stars is cuz I would have loved to have a prologue 10 years in the future to see them fulfill their promise.

13.- Verify - Joelle Charbonneau

🌟🌟

It might be good to introduce dystopic to a young audience, like this takes from many classic dystopias that gives a nice fundation if you never read one before, but as someone who enjoys dystopias a lot for me this was pretty boring and unoriginal, I know it was supposed to be a retelling of Fahrenheith 451 but I didn't see ir that way, like we could argue Paper is deemed as illegal and stuff but tbh it wasn't great, the main character was very unappealing to me, so not reading the next one.

14.-Prosper's demon - K.J Parker

🌟🌟🌟🌟

I really loved this one!!! Very short but succeeds in establishing the world and the characters, it was so good, full of morally grey characters, the ending left me shook like it really made me believe one thing and then boom!!!

15.-The Book of Lost Saints - José Daniel Older

🌟🌟🌟🌟

So this book is about a spirit taking possesion of her nephew's dreams so he will investigate what happened to her, how she died as she doesn't even remember her name, her memories are super vague. We unravel the story of a Cuban family in the middle of the revolution and institution of the communist régimen, how many people were prosecuted for fighting against Castro, among them Isabel and her sister Marisol. We get another amazing plot twist (for real it made me cry) intergenerational trauma and the search of identity as an immigrant pretty great stuff.

16.- Snow Glass Apples - Neil Gaiman

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

I loved it!!!! Dark retellings are some of my favorite things, and I have always liked Vampire!Snow White, this is just so creepy and good.

17. - Laura Dean Keeps breaking up with me - Mariko Tamaki

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Lots of queer representation and drama!!!! For real I just wanted to hug Freddie and tell her Laura wasn't shit. So we get the Importance of friendship and a good support system how a relationship can be toxic even if there is love (codependence isn't fun kids) and lots of relevant topics.

Gosh i really wish next month goes better, I will do another unhaul.

[sparklyjojos]

CARNIVAL recaps [4/13]

Today’s recap: We interrupt the plot to bring you Ellery Queen fanfiction, or: a two-headed dog and the theory of chaos.

--

EIGHT

17 Aug 1996 — 23 Aug 1996

EMPIRE STATE BUILDING

--

...But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.”

So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel—because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world.

--

The Empire State Building that reaches the skies is blown up.

S-rank detective Ronely Queen learns about it from the radio news. She’s a young blond white woman, the pince-nez she’s always wearing bringing to mind her grandfather, the famous detective Ellery Queen. Right now she’s driving to a place where grandpa Ellery once solved a certain case: an inn called The Two-Headed Dog.

[This chapter is pretty much one giant fanfiction of the actual Ellery Queen story The Two-Headed Dog from 1934. To recap that story: Ellery stays at the eponymous inn and hears a tale of a jewel thief who once stayed there under the fake name John Morse. One day the thief disappeared, his dog was found dead in the woods, and the cabin seemed haunted ever since, eerie noises coming from inside at night. During Ellery’s stay at the inn, another guest is murdered in the haunted cabin.

The twist is that the thief had two dogs. When he was murdered and his body hidden under the cabin’s floor, the surviving dog would sneak inside and claw at the floor making it sound like there were ghosts around. The man who got killed during Ellery’s stay was the thief’s murderer coming back to the crime scene. The dog recognized him and ripped his throat to shreds. The story ends with Ellery pointing out the coincidence between there being two dogs and the inn’s name.]

Ronely Queen is greeted warmly by the inn’s owner Theodore Hosey and his young daughter Diana. [You should remember them both for later.] They know each other well, as Ronely (or Lee, as Diana calls her) often stays at the inn, and Theodore was her professor back when she was studying applied criminology at Harvard.

It happens that an older man called John Morse—just like the person involved in the Ellery Queen case—is currently staying at the inn. This John Morse claims he’s a private detective taking a brief rest in the middle of pursuing a serial killer nicknamed Deep Cut. The investigation apparently required him to bring a dog, which is now chained in one of the cabins.

Later Queen talks with Theodore trying to reason out why the global crime rate is at a sudden rise. She thinks that Theodore’s personal World Chaos Theory may be helpful in explaining it. In that theory, there exists an “El Niño Point”—a singularity point that stands at the center of chaotic phenomena. You know, the butterfly flapping its wings that causes a storm in another country, this kind of thing.

Theodore believes the Billion Killer might be that El Niño / Singularity point that’s behind not only the Saturday cases, but the rising crime rate overall. (Queen does notice the irony in calling someone like the Billion Killer El Niño, a term that originally refers to baby Jesus.) Basically, once they solve the mystery of the Billion Killer, everything else should become clear.

The conversation leads to Theodore’s ex-wife Anna Robertson, who changed her name to Nina Roberts and started journeying through the US in a camping car. Theodore admits ashamed that he trailed her for some time. Unfortunately, Nina became the seventh, unusual victim of the serial killer Deep Cut. Up until her, Deep Cut only targeted men, leaving the corpses with their cut off genitalia stuffed in their mouths. When Theodore heard that his ex-wife was murdered, he hired John Morse to investigate the case.

--

When Queen is in her cabin later, she hears two gunshots and dashes outside. Theodore runs out of Morse’s cabin, his arm bleeding, and quickly leads Queen to the scene.

Morse is dead on the floor with his throat torn open. On top of him lies a big dog that had been shot in the head, a length of untethered chain hanging from its collar. Morse’s lifeless hand is still holding a gun. Nearby lies a briefcase full of money.

What happened according to Theodore: John Morse had discovered that Deep Cut was actually Nina Roberts killing her lovers. To gain alibi at the time of death, Nina would leave her specially trained dog with the victim, call them on the phone and recite a phrase that prompted the dog to attack and kill the victim. Then she’d retrieve the dog and arrange the crime scene.

Ronely Queen guesses that Morse must have blackmailed Theodore, threatening he would tell everyone about Nina and destroy the family’s reputation. Theodore admits it’s true. He was supposed to give Morse the briefcase of money in exchange for the dog. But when he was untying the dog after the exchange, he wondered if it really was the correct animal, as it seemed too gentle and calm for a killer dog. At that moment Morse yelled “Please hate me!”, and the dog attacked hearing the phrase—but instead of Theodore, it threw itself at Morse. Despite Morse screaming “Love me! Love me!”, the dog wouldn’t stop biting at his throat, and finally Morse had to shoot it. Before he died from injuries, Morse tried to shoot Theodore too, but only grazed his arm.

There’s just one little thing that bothers Queen in this testimony. The dog’s teeth have very little blood on them, as if someone intentionally wiped the rest away.

One hypothesis is that after Theodore left the cabin, Morse wasn’t dead yet and wiped the dog’s teeth as a sort of a dying message. Maybe this message was that the dog (or any other dog) wasn’t actually used in the Deep Cut murders? If Morse was Deep Cut and used the dog successfully even once, he should have known that the phrase used to stop it wasn’t  in fact “love me”. The most obvious theory would be that Morse had been pursuing Nina Roberts and killing her lovers out of jealousy with his own two hands, and Nina eventually committed suicide.

But Queen can see that Morse is just a fake culprit, and finally explains the truth behind the case. Who fits the role of the El Niño Point the best in this entire case? If you look at everything logically, it’s Theodore Hosey.

It was Theodore who pursued his ex-wife and killed her lovers. Morse discovered it and blackmailed Theodore. It was Theodore who ordered the dog to attack Morse, and it’s not that the dog didn’t listen to the phrase “love me”, it’s that Morse never even said that phrase in the first place. Morse wiped the dog’s teeth to symbolically show that the animal itself was an innocent tool and that the murderer was Theodore.

As for that gentle dog that could suddenly turn vicious, maybe you could say it had a double personality—a true Two-Headed Dog.

And so a tiny meagre case was solved, causing barely a ripple in the vast terrifying scale of the Crime Olympics… but everything would have its meaning in time.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[trainsinanime]

Red Web Mystery Reviews

Red Web is a podcast by Rooster Teeth featuring two guys from that whole Achievement Hunter thing that I can never tell apart (but you don’t need to know anything about this) about unsolved mysteries that often but not always have something to do with the internet. Let’s review the episodes out so far, because… well, no reason, honestly, I just wanted to.

Lake City Quiet Pills

Based on their information presented here, this whole thing and their explanation for it seem plausible enough. You have to assume that this group of apparently assassins is kind of bad at operational security, but there’s actually a lot of cases where big criminals got exposed because they used the same URL or E-mail address or similar.

Satoshi Nakamoto

I already knew about this beforehand, and I would say they did a good job explaining it. Personally, I think they should have gone into a bit more of how much a shit-show the whole Newsweek Dorian Nakamoto thing was; in short, there was no reason to believe this person had anything to do with Bitcoin, he didn’t even speak good english (which is probably what caused some of the misunderstandings), and it was both a huge embarrassment for Newsweek (at least I hope they felt embarrassed) and they needlessly hounded a completely uninvolved person for this.

But then they get into new evidence, and we see a problem that I think is a bit systematic: They don’t really go into how trustworthy the evidence is. Specifically, they say that the one person who can cast light on this might be… John McAfee. Fucking John McAfee. Seriously, that guy?

For context: John McAfee did indeed create the antivirus company that still bears his name. But he sold it in the 1990s, and thanks to money and drugs, he’s just gotten plain crazy ever since. There was the whole thing where he was implicated in a murder in Belize a couple of years ago; he kept blogging from a jail in Guatemala, later returned to the US, and keeps being part of outlandish schemes (including two presidential runs, though he failed to get the nomination for libertarian candidate both 2016 and 2020), controversies, and supposedly super-awesome tech startups that never go anywhere. It makes perfect sense that he’d claim to be involved in the creation of Bitcoin. It makes no sense whatsoever to believe him. If you’re interested and have way too much time, read what El Reg has to say about him.

Mortis

Oh god. This one makes me both want to laugh and cry. Mostly laugh, to be honest, because it is such an obvious nothing burger, but also weep for the internet that was.

The story is that they found a participant in an early internet warez network who wasn’t that great at OpSec. This is only fully revealed at the end, and they don’t even seem to have noticed that this case is clearly and completely solved.

Most of the humour for me comes from the fact that they’re rediscovering the old pre-social web, and are convinced that it’s all weird and nefarious. Why would one person register websites for their interests, and then never do anything with them? Because that’s what the internet was like back then in the late 1990s and early 2000s! Hey, look, here’s my ugly special-interest website from that era that hasn’t been updated in years and isn’t going to be updated any time soon either. That’s just what was normal back then. Same with a website for every person, or trying to do your own garage sales via your website. That was the thing to do back then. And yes, obviously it sucked and didn’t work very well.

They even realise that this is what „might“ have been going on, and theorise about this hypothetical early web. „Maybe if there was some website that linked all these together and allowed you to search“ - yeah, those existed. Digg and Technorati and Del.icio.us, remember those? All bought by Yahoo and promptly forgotten. And to be fair, they never worked as well as real social networks did.

But back then we had this glorious freedom. No sudden porn bans like here on Tumblr; no need to match any predefined template for what posts are, no user tracking by Facebook, nobody telling you that you’re tagging your posts wrong…

It’s understandable why we lost that web. Linking together is much easier if all content is owned and controlled by like four companies. It also makes it much easier to set up a new account; setting up a new website is just a lot of pain and knowledge you have to have that you don’t necessarily want to have.

But now we live in our monocultures and must live with whatever content decisions our corporate overlords make and then sell us as „community standards“, and the wild and weird web that we used to have is only a memory. And sometimes not even that; sometimes these new young kids treat it as a „weird nefarious mystery“. Actually, I just looked it up, and Alfredo and Trevor are both around 30, just a few years younger than I am. They were alive for at least the tail end if this. These guys could have known this shit!

So, yeah, the story here is not the mystery; it’s a lament for the web we lost.

D.B. Cooper

Again one I already knew, and I think they gave a good overview. Personally I’m in the camp of people who assume that he failed to make a safe landing.

Happy Valley Dream Survey

This seems vaguely interesting. One thing that kind of annoys me about this podcast is that they (well mostly Alfredo) generally assume that everything strange is necessarily nefarious, without any evidence. The whole thing here leads nowhere, after all.

Lead Masks Case

Again, I’m not sure how much weight to put on the other evidence they listed, especially that whole supposed UFO sighting. Yes, that one woman may have been very respected in her community and/or had a high social status, whatever that means. But the thing is that rich people who are super-involved in their church community or whatever can still (through no fault of their own) be unreliable witnesses and invent things that weren’t there, or not the way they were described.

Cicada 3301 (parts 1 and 2)

Personally I find this one less interesting because it’s not a mystery, it’s a riddle, and that’s way less fun. Much of the circumstances are weird enough, I guess.

What confuses me the most about this is how it’s supposed to be a recruitment tool, but it doesn’t seem to be very good at that. A lot of the steps don’t really seem to be that difficult and require just some fairly standard hacker skills. This is similar to the Satashi Nakamoto case, where one hint was „knows C++ programming“. Lots of people know that, and it’s something you can totally teach yourself. And if the people who were recruited through this were really supposed to program software, well… why did no part of this test whether they could do so? That’s a whole different skill. My conclusion is that this Cicada group is either a long con or a group that is nowhere near as smart as it thinks it is.

One thing to note here: They just casually assume that the FBI and NSA and so on are monitoring the whole internet, in real time, all the time. Which is true, we know that thanks to Edward Snowden. Isn’t that much more nefarious than any of the other mysteries here put together? How did we get to a place where Americans both think „this is the country that has all the freedom“ and „if you say or search for the wrong things you’ll get put on a government watchlist that’s just normal“ at the same time? Pervasive monitoring of a population is pretty much the exact opposite of freedom, but apparently we all in the western world just take it in stride anyway. That’s nothing to do with this podcast, though.

Conclusion

Generally okay podcast. The hosts are good storytellers, even if the stories are sometimes a bit shaky. It is at least at no point overly gross or insultingly stupid (unlike the official Rooster Teeth Podcast, which is both). So I think I can recommend it if you need something, anything to fill the quiet, and you’re already out of episodes of Black Box Down.