#level of requirement of this muse only increases

[lightcreators]

@godstrayed continue from here

　"Tell me, what do you find most amusing? The fear? The desperation? Or perhaps the occasional defiance of those who dare challenge your domain?" At least someone could appreciate them for what they were. Loki's tone was light-hearted yet tinged with something uniquely indistinguishable. "Mortals scrambling, souls bargaining, and all the while, you maintain your icy composure amidst chaos."

His own games were often motivated and petty something he could openly admit. "How can I get an invitation to spectate the Underworld? I find myself curious too. One trickster to... another." Although he wouldn't consider them the same, far from it; only two gods teetering on their own divinity.

Minus  various  Holy  Wars  across  the  centuries,  in  which  right  now,  it  remained  an  simple  hobby  in  which  he  was  partially  bored,  he  remained  an  simple  shadowing  observer  who  didn't  have  by  habit  to  interfere.  Eventually,  with  circumstances  aid  pulled  into  situation  of  his  protegee,  if  some  reactions  were  done,  his  small  influence  upon  events  would  help  them  to  get  out  of  unpleasant  moments.  Of  course,  for  too  long,  he  had  wished  doing  more  than  just  that  ---  influencing  the  ground  from  an  far  away  landscape,  in  which  his  imposing  perspective  and  power  could  easily  transforming  the  result  he  already  knew  of  …  Nevertheless,  the  realm  of  the  Underground  rarely  left  him  room  for  rest,  neither  how  omnipresence  of  Hypnos  and  Thanatos  remembering  him  to  his  responsabilities.  It  had  been  only  recently,  by  how  circumstances  turned  for  one  chessboard,  he  had  imposed  an  independance  over  his  decisions  and  his  own  little  pleasure  ---  How  much  he  managed  to  lie  to  himself,  to  protecting  the  game  of  his  emotions,  to  twiting  his  own  feelings,  was  something  only  the  shadows  knew  …  and  well,  one  kid  inclined  to  play  with  it  !  Natural  reaction  had  to  be  presented  to  showing  his  face  in  front  of  other  places  he  had  remaining  observer,  now  his  presence  had  been  purely  acknowledged  by  an  couple  of  players,  now  he  was  weighting  falsely  all  the  responsabilities  of  an  game  in  which  he  wasn't  the  villain.  Playfulness  have  been  offered  within  his  confession,  but  the  words  remained  honest.  Loki  needed  to  receive  that  compliment,  when  him  as  another  deity  would  support  him.  Especially  since  he  had  to  deal  with  one   illusionnist   …

❝  Whatever  mortal  challening  themselves  a  deity  should  be  expected  to  be  scared,  though  I  do  enjoy  the  fearless  ones.  The  ones  imposing  themselves  in  front  of  an  god  thinking  they  knew  better,  realization  of  their  true  place  is  only  an  even  more  powerful  pleasure,  to  make  them  believe  until  the  last  moment  that  they  can  have  the  advantage.  ❞  It  had  been  his  offensive  line  with  the  Athena  Saints,  with  Pegasus,  a  lot  with  the  Emperor  of  Britannia.  Concerning  the  kid,  concerning  Deimos  ---  regardless  if  he  had  been  emotionally  touched  by  the  blow  he  had  offered  him  by  creating  his  own  exit  beyond  what  he  had  perceived,  the  kid  remained  unaware  how  he  was  reacting  as  he  should  be,  which  remained  his  advantage.  ❝  I  wish  I  could  confess  I  came  to  be  bored  of  their  despair  but  ---  ❞  He  admitted  with  an  broken  smile,  before  further  playfulness  showing  up  in  his  face.  ❝  Hopeless  souls  find  solace  around  my  protection.  They  found  the  comfort  and  the  reassurance  they  search  for.  Though,  it's  often  that  gentleness  end  up  push  behind  by  the  main  concerned.  ❞   Following  that  sentence,  there  was  an  smaller  laugh.  ❝  Main  qualities  I  admire  in  such  souls  are  their  boldness  and  their  perseverance.  Reaching  the  Underground  knowing  my  reputation  requires  courage,  stubbornly  wanting  to  be  right  is  a  madness  that  pleases  me.  Although  this  happiness  can  sometimes  be  annoying,  especially  when  my  challenger  doesn't  seem  to  understand  a  truth  exposed  several  times.  This  is  part  of  my  kindness.  The  moment  of  horror  must  come  much  later,  at  a  time  when  they  hardly  expect  to  handle.  ❞  Playfulness  inscreased  a  little  more.  ❝  It  had  been  the  case  for  an  couple  of  centuries  indeed.  I  now  take  advantage  of  the  human  emotionality  that  I  possess  to  be  more  expressive  on  the  subject.  ❞  As  if  the  moment  had  been  missed,  he  presented  a  dark  face  of  that  one  internal  pleasure.  ❝  I  can  show  condescension  towards  them  in an gentle manner~ ☆  ❞

Eventually,  his  expression  lowered  down  within  that  indifferent  and  seriousness  emotions.  With  his  own  illusions  crumbling  all  around  him,  there  was  that  desire  to  cling  over  each  little  fragment  no  matter  he  would  remain  mentally  hurt  at  each  reminder  …  Though,  pleasant  smile  welcoming  his  features  turned  deeply  honest  as  he  appreciated  the  compliment.  ❝  My  toys  are  the  simple  expectations  of  these  mortals.  I  have  spent  too  many  millennia  being  constantly  offended  by  them  that  I  owe  them  this  pleasure,  which  currently  makes  your  games  pleasant  towards  me,  knowing  your  situation.  Playing  with  these  misunderstandings  of  these  mortals  is  possible  way  to  make  them  understand  their  mistake.  I  wish  to  confess  to  you  that  my  games  remains  confined  to  the  Underground,  nevertheless,  for  a  long  time,  the  Underground  has  been  present  in  this  world.  Like  an  endless  shadow  I  can  play  with.  Like  a  heavy  feeling  that  engulfs  the  bodies  of  mortals.  My  show  may  look  like  a  web  in  the  sky,  or  a  simple  demonstration  in  the  situation,  or  even  by  my  encounter.  I  can  show  you  though.  I  have  advantage  of  being  everywhere.  ❞

[galedekarios]

gale, waterdeep & coinage

just musings on gale's means as well as waterdeep lore bc i love waterdeep:

Gale: Believe it or not, but I witnessed a similar standoff back at the Yawning Portal. Of course, an establishment like that invites all sorts of outlandish entertainments. Player: What's the Yawning Portal Gale: An inn in Waterdeep. Never a dull moment there. Adventurers come from all over Faerûn to try their luck down the well: Leads into the Undermountain, you see - full of death, danger, and vast amounts of treasure. Hard to resist. Player: What was the standoff about? Gale: Oh, a drow, a dragonborn, and a cleric of Cyric walk into a bar. Your standard fare. Maybe someone was cheating at cards, maybe it was some weird lovers' quarrel. In any case, out came the crossbow, and a hush fell over the entire room.devnote Player: What happened next? Gale: I stood up and yelled: 'Shadowdark ale for everyone!' The crowd cheered, the tension drained into five dozen tankards, and soon all was well again. Gale: In a place like the Yawning Portal, the most powerful magic is calling for a round of drinks. Gale: Mind you, all I did was call for ale, but you went and stood in front of that crossbow. I'd drink to that.

i will definitely take a look at the yawning portal itself at a later date (as well as other points of interest within the city) bc it's very interesting as a focal point in waterdhavian history and society.

while we can only speculate about what gale's background in terms of means, wealth and standing looked like since things like tutors and even maids were not uncommon in waterdhavian society, it is interesting to note that he - whatever his personal means at the time this event took place - felt the need to defuse the brewing fight with 'five dozen tankards'.

we do actually know how much one such tankard costs at the yawning portal:

[source]

17cp x 60 = 1020cp

this was interesting to me in terms of this meant in actual terms of coinage and wealth and money spent.

here's an overview of waterdeep's various coins:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale spent over a 1000 nibs/copper pieces that evening (or more than one sun/platinum coin) to de-escalate a potentially lethal fight.

to put that into perspective, i'm adding this reference of prices here:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale also attended blackstaff academy, with elminster as his mentor. the academy had costs attached with it:

Acceptance to the Academy was predicated on either demonstrating extraordinary magical aptitude (those who could not cast arcane spells were very rarely admitted) or having a particularly compelling personal history. Joining the Academy was free, however monthly dues were required to continue attendance. These fees started at 10 gp per month and increased as a student gained seniority and required more advanced tutelage. In addition, it was a requirement that any new spell that was discovered or researched by an apprentice had to be added to Blackstaff Tower's library. [source]

ten gold pieces per month as fees, although with gale being elminster's mentee, he may have chosen to assist gale and morena partially or fully with any costs that blackstaff academy may have charged.

it does sound, however his childhood may have looked like with a presumably absent father and a mother with her hands full with a young genius, able to conjure rabbits as a babe, summoning a tressym, a magma mephit who set a room on fire, as well as casting a level 3 spell (fireball) at age 8 or younger, that gale at least during the height of his career as a wizard, lived comfortably.

ending this with more food for thought and a banter between gale and karlach:

Gale: They say wealth offers a form of magic. Alas, it's one I've rarely dabbled in. Karlach: Nor I. Never had more than a few coppers in the city, and any soul coins in Avernus went straight to Zariel. Gale: Make no mistake. Souls are sold for coins up here as well. All too cheaply, in most cases.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position Prologue

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo x OFC

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

In ballroom dance, the closed position is one of the most common in which partners face each other, typically offset, in an embrace that may vary slightly for each style of dance being performed. This position enables partners to provide the necessary physical contact and support to lead and follow. Increased body contact is encouraged because it allows for a deepened connection and furthers the use of touch to communicate. Another way for partners to establish a deepened connection is eye contact. Eye contact allows each of the dancers to anticipate and synchronize with the other’s movements. The stronger the eye contact and non-verbal communication, the more effortless and intense the performance will appear to be.

Because of the physical closeness and emotionally charged environment, ballroom dance can be an oddly intimate experience that requires a high level of trust between partners. It’s easy to understand why it’s heavily romanticized. For some, it’s not unusual that it may lead to feelings that extend beyond the dance floor.

In my line of work on a nationally televised tv show, I’m placed with a new partner every season. None of which I’ve ever actually achieved a real connection with (on or off the dance floor). It’s always very formal and instructional. Strictly a student learning from their teacher type of experience. The student (or celebrity in this case) is there for the purpose of winning the dance competition and any notoriety that comes with it. I’m there to teach them how to reach their goal and nothing more. I was, after all, in a sometimes-happy long-term relationship that I was not looking to jeopardize.

Everything changed the day Dieter Bravo waltzed into the dance studio. He was looking to repair his image and boost his career after a rumored long stint in rehab while I was simply trying to make it through my last season on the show. We were reluctant partners at first. I was aware of his bad boy reputation and didn’t want my professional image to be tarnished by his antics. He could sense my reluctance, which fueled the initial hostility between us. The hostility soon faded during our sessions as the electricity ignited. The attraction could only be ignored for so long. No one could have predicted the way our stars would eventually collide and be bound to each other’s orbit.

Next: Week 1

I included everyone who interacted with the initial teaser. Please let me know if you would like to be removed going forward.

Tag List: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @undercoverpena @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose

Let me know in the comments below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Credits: Star divider courtesy of @saradika. Support divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

[nomouthedscream]

PREFACE: I AM A JAIDEN ANIMATIONS FAN, THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE A HATE POST OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, ITS JUST MY SUBJECTIVE FEELINGS AND SORT OF MUSINGS

Watched jaidenanimation's new video earlier today, and Im torn. Cause on one hand I feel really happy for her for having made it to 10 years, and I understand the desire to do something else after having done a job for a while, to just relax and be yourself and possibly even rediscover yourself. But also the life she described after youtube is just not a realistic one, even for normal people. Part of the reason the job market is so utterly dogshit is because they work really hard to try and pidgeonhole you into certain positions and actively punish you for going against it. An increasing number of companies are requiring 2-3 years work experience for entry level positions (I wish I was kidding). They don't like it when your most recent job was in a different industry, even if it was for college. And any sort of gap in employment is blamed upon your laziness and lack of work ethic.

And colleges get increasingly pickier about your qualifications and if you should get money the older you are because they want that space youre taking up for some 18 year olds who don't know how to bargain or finacially plan well. My college has a secondary college specifically for "adults" (people over 22). Ive only met about 10 people over 22 in classes, and all of them were seeking masters, doctorates, or work certifications. I have only ever met 2 people over 30 who I took classes with, one seeking a masters while the other was working towards getting a work certification. There are people out there who get bachelors late or second ones after their first set, but they are a rare breed, and often times they either have to have a lot of money on hand or have to be willing to go into debt.

And if you go the self owned buisness route, you have the exact same problem that jaiden complained about with youtube, which is that it never actually leaves your mind, it is always there, a shadow at the edge of your vision.

I just, I dunno, I love Jaiden's content and I'm really happy for her, and I think its kinda sweet she idolizes the simple life. But I also think this video sort of epitomizes the fact that the people who got to make youtube a full time job sort of believe they live in a different world totally separate from ours, and they don't really know what normal is, at least not at the point jaiden's at. It felt like when cottagecore was really popular and people talked about the ideal of "the simple life" or when people were obsessed with van life and a bunch of people then had to come out and say "NO, ITS NOT ALL SUNSHINE AND ROSES". Youtube is a job that changes your lifestyle, but so is... any job. My friend whos gonna start student teaching next semester feels like they can't swear anymore or else theyre gonna slip up. My friend who works as an auctioneer basically has no time for his social life anymore. I constantly have work and college looming in my mind, and I've been repeatedly told to be prepared to dedicate all my time to my work since Im going into a stem field. Its all just sort of a part of growing up and taking on adult life. It's just all work in one form or another. It's incredibly difficult to genuinely retire at a young age now adays so if you want to no longer do a job you're going to have to switch instead. And there is no shame in wanting a job change, but it is always important to recognize what such a change will entail and if you're willing to undergo the hardship you will have to endure to get any sort of reward from it. So... yeah.

Tldr: Jaiden's new 10 year anniversary video reminded me that people really do think the grass is greener on the other side.

[republicsecurity]

In the Control Center

In the control center, two instructors, both clad in their own black full-body armor with visors retracted, monitored the data streams flowing in from the cadets' suits. The room was filled with the soft hum of electronics and the glow of multiple screens displaying biometric data, performance metrics, and live video feeds from the cadets’ helmet cams.

Instructor 8UZTT leaned back in his chair, his shaved head glistening under the fluorescent lights. He tapped a screen, bringing up a detailed report on 80LKU's latest performance. "Look at this," he said, his voice tinged with both admiration and a hint of proprietary pride. "Their heart rates, reaction times, stress levels—we can see everything. It's almost like playing a game with real-life avatars."

Instructor Q47MN, equally imposing in his suit, nodded. "It's incredible how far we've come. The suits not only monitor but also control their physical state. We can adjust their environment, sensory inputs, even their emotional responses. This level of control ensures they perform at their peak."

8UZTT glanced at a feed showing a cadet struggling through a particularly grueling obstacle course. "I think it's time we upped the ante. They're adapting too quickly to the current challenges."

Q47MN smiled, a touch of cynicism in his expression. "Agreed. Let's increase the focus requirements and introduce some harder scenarios. They need to learn that adaptation is the key to survival. Push them out of their comfort zones."

With a few swift taps on their control panels, they adjusted the parameters for the training exercises. New, more complex scenarios were queued up, designed to test the cadets' limits and enhance their resilience.

As they worked, Q47MN mused, "You know, it’s not just about making them stronger or faster. It’s about conditioning their minds as well. We can shape their entire perception of reality. Control their experiences so thoroughly that they can’t distinguish between what’s real and what’s training."

8UZTT laughed softly. "Exactly. We can filter out any distractions, modify what they see and hear. Make them face their deepest fears or their greatest challenges, all within a controlled environment. And they’ll come out of it better, more disciplined. Ready to follow orders without hesitation."

He glanced at another screen showing a cadet's HUD, filled with data overlays and mission objectives. "Let's see how they handle increased cognitive load. More data to process, more decisions to make under pressure."

Q47MN tapped a few more commands. "Done. They’ll be in for a surprise when their next session starts. It’ll push their limits, but they’ll be better for it."

8UZTT turned to Q47MN, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Let's ramp it up a notch. Increase the resistance in their suits. Make them work for it."

The instructors watched as the new scenarios took effect. Cadets, previously performing routine drills, suddenly found themselves facing new, unexpected challenges. The instructors could see the immediate impact in the cadets' biometric data—spikes in heart rates, increased stress markers, rapid shifts in neural activity.

With a few swift commands, they adjusted the parameters of the cadets' suits. Each suit's servos, which normally assisted with strength and movement, were recalibrated to provide increased resistance. This meant every step, every lift, every motion now required significantly more effort from the cadets.

The cadets, already sweating from their rigorous training, felt the immediate change. The once-fluid movements of their suits now felt sluggish, each action requiring double the effort. 80LKU, among them, gritted his teeth under the visor, feeling the strain in his muscles as he pushed through the obstacle course.

Back in the control center, Q47MN observed the biometric feedback with satisfaction. "Look at them. They're struggling, but they're pushing through. This will build their endurance, their resilience."

8UZTT added, "And their mental fortitude. They need to know they can push past perceived limits. This is how we prepare them for the real challenges."

They watched as the cadets, now moving with labored breaths and sweat-drenched faces, tackled the enhanced training. Each obstacle, each task, was a battle against their own fatigue and the relentless resistance of their suits.

[causeitsagame]

Fic: Aquila (8/8)

Pairing: Hajime Hinata/Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

Author: @miggylol

Notes: This is too happy. Too sweet. I don't know how to process this writing coming out of myself. ANYWAY, thank you for coming along on this ride. <3

Previous Chapters: in the tag.

Excerpt: "Can't let yourself be happy for too long, huh?"

"You're one to talk." Hajime's arm tightened where he'd rested it around Fuyuhiko. "Well. I am happy right now. After everything, that feels like a pretty big deal."

-----

The neurological readouts were exactly what Hajime had hoped to see, weeks earlier.

His plan would work.

By inducing dreaming in the most stable patients, their minds had naturally regenerated both general function and the ability to retain memories. With this trial completed, he could also see how to prompt dreaming in the more vulnerable minds. Time spent in the pods would no longer be an agonizingly slow descent into lost function. Now, it could be like a purposefully induced coma, aimed at giving injured minds and bodies the chance to heal instead of fade away.

He sat back, exhaling, and felt stress that he hadn't fully acknowledged begin to seep out of him. For almost everything they did on the islands together, it was a group effort. They all had their areas of expertise, and one person would naturally take the lead on something, but it was always done together.

Except for this.

The only other medical mind on the islands was currently comatose inside a high-tech bullet, but even Mikan would have had little to contribute. This plan required such a delicate, comprehensive blend of neurology, electrical engineering, computer programming, mental therapy, physical therapy, network analysis, mathematical modeling, and many other fields that even the Ultimate Nurse could have only dipped her foot into a chasm a mile deep. Only the so-called Ultimate Hope—

Hajime's expression twisted a little at the label that had been used for him.

—Would have had a chance to retrieve these people who'd been labeled as beyond recovery. That meant that if he hadn't been able to do this, the failure would have been his uniquely to bear.

But he hadn't failed. This would work. It would take a while, as the most injured minds began an even lengthier healing process, but it'd work.

Thank fuck whispered a familiar, comfortably vulgar voice, and Hajime chuckled. With steadily increasing confidence, he input the change in programming for the remaining pods. One by one, those pods also began to flicker with low-level activity they'd been missing, before.

A particular part of Teruteru's frontal lobe flickered, indicating emotional activation. He didn't have an accompanying rise in pulse rate or adrenaline production, suggesting that the dreams being generated were positive and calm. Good. Peko also lacked a surge in any negative vital signs, even as her parietal lobe's function kicked into higher gear. Whatever sounds and visions now flooded her, they couldn't be from her last moments in the simulation. Good, good, good signs, all around the room.

"Thanks," Hajime told Hiyoko's pod on the way out of the room, and rapped his knuckles against the glass top. "You gave me some great data."

They celebrated that evening, pulling out some beautiful tuna and scallops from the freezer that they'd kept saving for some far-off good news. No one had wholly been sure what they were waiting for. Now that they heard the outcome of Hajime's last visit to the administration building, everyone agreed that a party was required.

"Good work," Fuyuhiko whispered to Hajime afterward, and flashed a beaming smile like none of them had once thought he could make. Hajime smiled back, then watched everyone else descend on the kitchen to wash dishes and divide up leftovers. He'd been expressly forbidden from helping.

As he waited, quiet musings weighed increasingly low in Hajime's mind. Joy and relief mingled with an uncertainty he hadn't known to expect. He stared out a window in deep thought, listening to the low croons and trills of birdcalls.

When everyone else finished, he quickly masked anything but the brightest of joy, and extended his hand as he stood. "Hey. It's going to be a great night for a sunset."

Akane winked at Kazuichi, and elbowed him with the arm that still had a splint on its hand.

"You two need to hit the market and pick up some movies, or something," Fuyuhiko grumbled as he accepted Hajime's hand and let himself be steered toward the door. Sonia's quieter—but more knowing—assessment also caught his eye. As he exited, Fuyuhiko shouted, "You three!"

"Sorry," Hajime laughed as they set off walking for their favorite spot for watching the sunset. "You'd think they'd be bored of us, by now."

"They just think it's funny to try to piss me off," Fuyuhiko grumbled with no real rancor.

"Well, yeah, it is kinda funny."

"Jerk."

Hajime grinned at him and earned a shove to his side. He allowed himself to be pushed briefly out of line.

The sunset was uncommonly beautiful, just as it had been on the night that (weirdly) began their relationship. Tonight, occasional clouds marched across the sky in striations of gold-wrapped magenta. Gold rippled over the waves, too, and they both went quiet to appreciate how the entire world seemed to dance with moving light.

Fifteen minutes later, magenta deepened into wine and the brightest gold steadily faded as the sun slid below the horizon. Hajime let out a long, satisfied sigh when the sunset finally gave way to night. He hadn't quite held his breath, but he realized he'd been breathing shallowly for a while, like he'd otherwise break some spell.

Maybe it did break a spell. Fuyuhiko had been propped up on his elbows to watch the sunset, mirroring Hajime. But at that soft sound, he scooted closer and laid his head against Hajime's shoulder as his attention turned to the sky directly overhead.

Smiling, Hajime let himself recline fully against the grass and sand at his back, while his arm on that side slung comfortably around Fuyuhiko. Well. This was definitely a nice change from their last sunset here together. Like that, they lay in silence for a while, studying the sky overhead as the horizon darkened and all the stars in the universe emerged. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"

Fuyuhiko looked up at him, though he didn't stop treating Hajime's shoulder as a pillow. "What is it?"

"I… us… this… it makes me really happy."

"Yeah. Me too."

"And thinking about being able to wake up everyone makes me really happy. But it also made me wonder if this… us… is going to change."

When he was in that dining room, waiting on everyone, Hajime had recalled a long-ago conversation. It wasn't anything he'd particularly wanted to dwell on, before. He'd been imagining a very different relationship, then, and it hadn't been fun to be turned down flat. But today, that calm, serious voice seemed worth remembering.

I was wondering if you could give me advice on asking someone out on a date.

Fuyuhiko's gaze turned troubled. For all he knew, Hajime was asking about himself. "I don't know. I don't want it to. Do you?"

"No, not at all. I just got to thinking."

"Can't let yourself be happy for too long, huh?"

"You're one to talk." Hajime's arm tightened where he'd rested it around Fuyuhiko. "Well. I am happy right now. After everything, that feels like a pretty big deal."

Fuyuhiko smiled against his arm and rested there for a minute. "When we talked about festivals, we didn't mention this. But did you get dragged to sakura festivals every year, too?"

"Heh. Every year up until about ten or so, yeah." Hajime closed his eyes and thought back to long-ago days in long-dead cities. He could picture the brief but brilliant clouds of petals that lined a riverbank near his home, and the crowds that emerged to appreciate them while they lasted.

"Something might be short-lived," he obligingly recited, "but that doesn't diminish its beauty while it's there. It's all the more cause to celebrate it while it lasts." He tilted his head to better angle his view toward the man treating his shoulder as a pillow. "Were you going for something like that?"

"For option one."

Hajime's eyebrow raised. "Option one, huh?"

"Maybe this—us—is the blossoms." Fuyuhiko tilted his head, too, to fully meet Hajime's gaze. "Or maybe it's the trees, sticking around after everyone stops oohing and ahhing over something new."

"Huh." Hajime looked back up at the sky and found himself grinning. "I've never heard that take on them, before."

"We had a cherry tree in our back yard. I got yelled at for climbing it when it was blooming, because it knocked down flowers, and some people only cared about that. But the way I saw it, it was a good climbing tree all year round."

"You really were a little hellion, huh?"

"Damn straight." Fuyuhiko was quiet for a minute, still visibly uncomfortable with the relationship topic that Hajime had chosen to raise. "What kind of stuff's crammed up in there, now?"

It was a clear attempt to change the conversation, but Hajime wasn't quite sure as to what. Only when Fuyuhiko gestured broadly at the sky overhead did Hajime realize what he'd been prompted to talk about. He obligingly nodded. "Astronomy, classical eastern and western mythology, navigation…"

Fuyuhiko nodded against him, then carefully asked, "Do you mind?"

Hajime realized then that Fuyuhiko had never asked him to draw upon his implanted talents as they talked, before. Though they'd sometimes veered there as he talked about migratory birds or putting together a field infirmary, he'd always been the one to first offer anything that someone else had forced upon him. Given the trauma accompanying those talents, he appreciated it. Given some of the darkest topics that lurked in his mind, he appreciated it more. But for this, he didn't mind at all.

"Time for more stories," Hajime cheerfully agreed. The two of them had always been good at just holding a conversation, like he'd never managed with anyone else. "Do you see that incredibly bright star up where I'm pointing? The orange one?"

"Yeah, I see it."

"See those other stars there and there and there?" Hajime's finger sketched out a shape in the sky like a stretched-out diamond. "In Greek mythology—and so, western constellations—that's a plowman. It's called Boötes."

"Boötes?" Fuyuhiko echoed mockingly.

"What? I didn't name it. Some other people said that the constellation wasn't a plowman, but was a wine maker. The wine he made was so strong that, uh, people committed murder and suicide from it."

Fuyuhiko raised his head enough to shoot Hajime a knowing, pointed look.

It apparently didn't matter that they were well old enough to drink legally, now. Nor that no police officer would ever check for legality, here. With amusement, Hajime continued, "There's not a one-to-one equivalent in Chinese mythology for Boötes. They split up its stars into other constellations." Looking around the sky, Hajime mused on which topic to raise next.

Apparently, that hesitation came across differently outside of his own head. "Are you good out here?" Fuyuhiko wondered.

Hajime smiled up at the intricate patchwork of stars and galaxies, planets and satellites. This wasn't darkness; a river of light hung over them both. "I'm great, don't worry. So, next to Boötes—seriously, I didn't pick the name—there's Hercules. That's another one where there's a Greek name for it, but Chinese astronomers split up the stars into their own units. It's pretty normal when that happens, I think. Two people with totally different pasts look at the same thing, and come to different conclusions."

His finger moved again. "But it's even more interesting when two people from totally different backgrounds end up landing on the same thing, somehow. Do you see the stars there?"

Fuyuhiko studied the sky, and Hajime rightly guessed that he should stay silent until Fuyuhiko spoke. "It looks like a bird."

"Yeah. That's Aquila. And it's…" Hajime trailed off, paging through the knowledge that was somehow in his head, and smiled. "And it's a love story."

"A bird's a love story?" Fuyuhiko asked with amusement, but he rolled closer against Hajime's side and sounded willing to be convinced.

"Look at where it is: right by the Milky Way. You know Tanabata, right?"

"More festivals, huh?" Fuyuhiko nodded, clearly familiar with the Chinese tale that had been carried to Japan. "Two lovers are separated, but if the skies are clear, then they're able to unite for one day thanks to a bridge of… ah. A bridge of birds."

"Right. So, those birds are some stars in Aquila, and some stars from Lyra on the other side of the 'river.' The lovers themselves are in the constellations, too." Hajime gestured toward the other side of the Milky Way, then back at the constellation under discussion. "While Chinese astronomers were saying it was that kind of love story, Greek astronomers were writing a love story of their own. That happening twice just… feels like it means something." His grip tightened around Fuyuhiko again, and Hajime looked up at the celestial river running through a clear sky.

"Yeah?" Fuyuhiko wondered in a voice softer than he ever used. "What's the story?"

Hajime's voice softened, too. "Aquila was an eagle who belonged to Zeus, the most powerful of the gods. Zeus fell in love with this shepherd, the most beautiful boy anywhere on Earth, and sent Aquila to bring him to Olympus." At the description of Ganymede, that target of Zeus's attention, Hajime's hand trailed down Fuyuhiko's arm.

Silence answered him. It went on long enough that Hajime angled himself enough to look down and meet Fuyuhiko's gaze.

That gaze was amusingly unimpressed. "So, y'think you're the king of the gods, huh?"

"I… you know what I mean," Hajime laughed. "That wasn't about me. I was trying to talk about you."

"The shepherd?" Fuyuhiko's eye narrowed with what had to be mock offense. "I'm a shepherd? It's from dealing with those goddamn fucking chickens, isn't it?"

"Will you let me be nice?" Hajime grumbled with mock offense, and rolled on top of him. "Besides. 'Shepherd' would be about sheep, anyway. Just let me tell the story, all right?"

Fuyuhiko smirked up at Hajime, and didn't struggle to throw him off.

"What I was trying to say," Hajime said, and bit off each word with purpose, "is how totally different people landed on the same thing, despite their different backgrounds."

"A bird."

"Yes. A bird. And a love story. I'm trying to be romantic, you jerk."

Fuyuhiko's smirk spread into a full-on grin. "Whatever. But is that story about the bridge of birds really romantic?"

"Yes. It's romantic. Stop arguing."

"I'm just saying… the whole story is that if the skies are clear, then they get to be together for one day." Fuyuhiko's grin ebbed to a smaller, softer smile, full of deeper question. "Is that what you're aiming for?"

"No," Hajime instantly said. It felt like the easiest answer he'd ever given.

Fuyuhiko gestured for him to take a spot back at his side, and Hajime obligingly rolled off him. "So, let's stop thinking that a bunch of old guys from thousands of years ago get to tell us what matters, all right?"

Hajime chose not to point out that he was lying next to the most traditional person he'd ever met in his life. "I'm listening."

"The stars obviously look like a bird," Fuyuhiko continued, gesturing broadly at them. His wave also captured the arc of their galaxy's celestial river, the slowly waxing moon, and hundreds of other gleaming stars. "But we can tell stories the same as them. That bird's not going to be for lovers stuck on other sides of a river." With an amused grin, he added, "And it doesn't belong to any damn king of the gods."

"Seriously, I was trying to talk about you."

Fuyuhiko's gaze drifted nearly as distant as the bird constellation itself, then snapped back to attention on Hajime. "What about a phoenix?"

"There is a constellation for that," Hajime mused, "but we wouldn't ever be able to see it, here." Slowly, he nodded. "That works, but we're back to multiple meanings. In one, it means… well, it means that out of destruction and ashes, there's new life."

Fuyuhiko had clearly intended that, and looked proud of himself for the association.

"And if you're saying that's a fenghuang up there," Hajime slowly continued, growing increasingly fond of this chosen new meaning for the constellation, "then its absence signifies an era of strife. But its return marks a new era of peace and hope."

"I'm liking my idea." Proudly, Fuyuhiko gestured back at Aquila. "Then we're living under the phoenix, now. All of us. If a bunch of old assholes can say it's an eagle, then all of us can say it's a phoenix, instead. This is forever, here, right?"

"Forever," Hajime echoed.

"Then we'll make it into the place we want it to be." Fuyuhiko's energy for that grand design faltered. A softer, almost sheepish shadow edged his voice in its place. "And there can be another love story added in, somewhere. Maybe. I know I made fun of you for it, but, that was… nice."

Hajime grinned at him.

"H-hey!" Fuyuhiko snapped, suddenly embarrassed. "Don't give me that look! I'm being nice, too, you dick!"

"It's not that," Hajime said, and kept grinning.

Uncertainty swept Fuyuhiko. But he didn't make even a single muscle twitch toward running away, like he once had. He just waited for Hajime's explanation.

"Fenghuang? The Chinese phoenix?"

"Yeah…?"

Laughing, Hajime rolled back on top of him. "It's in love with a dragon."

Fuyuhiko blinked up at him. Over his right eye, the symbol of his family name curved a spiral in black and gold. "You are fucking kidding me."

"Nope." Hajime's laughter echoed down the beach and over the ocean. "So… nice pick, all around."

"Huh. Hey. I'm pretty good at this. I'll rename Boötes, next."

"Whatever makes you happy," Hajime snickered. If it was only them, and if this was forever, then they might as well reshape their new world to whatever best suited them. The 'forever' word sobered him, and Hajime slowly leaned down for a gentle, heartfelt kiss. Whether forever was simply for being on this island, or for something more, he'd appreciate tonight.

Fuyuhiko swallowed as Hajime's hands ran across him. "You can do this, right?" he wondered, and held up one arm. In the darkness, the tattoos he'd started to get as the head of the Remnants' Japanese army were barely visible. They didn't cover much of him yet, though; most skin was still untouched.

"Yeah, sure."

"Then… what about something for this? What we just talked about?"

Hajime blinked, taken aback at the intimacy of what had just been proposed. His own hands, etching a phoenix permanently into Fuyuhiko's skin. Whatever happened with them as their friends woke and their world inevitably changed, that sort of thing was… forever.

The word felt comfortable by now, and Hajime relaxed as a smile spread across his face. "Well," he lectured with mock gravity, "I'm going to have to find the right spot. Some inspections will be needed."

Fuyuhiko smiled knowingly at him, and allowed his shirt to be removed with an elegant twist of his body. But then he griped, "I don't want to deal with any damn sand."

Sighing, Hajime relocated them up entirely up onto the grass. "You really don't make this easy."

"You knew what you were in for."

"I'm definitely learning," Hajime said wryly, and leaned down to place a kiss on one potential spot for the tattoo. "Every day, I'm learning."

"Hmm." Fuyuhiko sighed happily, arching against the grass, then sobered and looked up at Hajime. "Where else could it go?"

Obligingly, Hajime leaned in again, and again.

Beside them, the waves rumbled a quiet, endless melody. Wind blew through the trees and late-night birds had their songs carried with it. Above it all, the stars gleamed impossibly bright, clear and beautiful and forever.

[sumeru-academy]

M.U.S.E. Event Case 002. La Signora X Female Reader.

◇ Report submitted by: Moderator Alice on ▇▇▇▇.

death, descriptions of gore, burning / immolation.

CASE FILE. MUSE-002

CLASS. SIREN

SEVERITY. 7 / 10

DESCRIPTION. Along the shoreline of Falcon Coast, reports of dead bodies floating atop the water were filed beginning ▇▇▇▇, with frequency increasing the week of ▇▇▇▇. Observations showed that many of the bodies retrieved from sea resembled sailors that previously went missing. Personnel reported sounds of singing before suddenly going MIA on M.U.S.E. radars.

"Severity level seven." 

The man slid the file across the desk until it was in front of you. He seemed distraught, his scarlet eyes looking troubled as he stared down at the dark oak. And yet, the little manila folder seemed so simple and neat compared to his devastated demeanor.

"This level seven has already killed four of our troops," he exasperatedly sighed. "Last one on this case went missing; wound up dead this morning." 

The death of your coworkers was not unfamiliar to you, but four was rather plenty from a single entity. With the training and experience M.U.S.E. personnel possessed, it would only take two at most to strike down a level seven, or one high ranking officer like yourself. You could only imagine what the casualty count of regular civilians was. 

"Falcon Coast," he said. "Urgent. Drop all your other cases."

"And I'm the only one on this case, Ragnvindr?" You raised an eyebrow at him, thinking how this creature should probably be bumped up another level in severity. "After four of us drop dead, you deploy only me?"

"Besides the fact you're a high ranker," Diluc explained, "I have a feeling you'll be more efficient, you can say."

"Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters."

A long pause—you were baffled at this case. Sirens were usually a level five, and six would be pushing it. Those mermaidlike creatures were alluring, yes; But once a M.U.S.E. soldier approaches, knowing fully well of a siren's tricks, the monster is easy to exterminate. 

But a single siren able to kill four of your peers... 

You wondered how incompetent or sleazily lustful they must have been. 

"I can offer you no other officer at the moment," Diluc finally sighed. "And I fear any lower ranking troops will only be deadweight to you." With his elbows on the table and his hands propping up his head, he solidified his decision for your mission. "You will begin this case today, and I will not supply you with a partner." 

He was unmoving in this, and you had no other choice but to agree. As if finalizing the conversation, the man pushed the palm of his hand forward, rolling an item towards you. Of course, every case under Diluc always required one of these. A metal brander, one that pressed scorching heat onto any surface, leaving the M.U.S.E. insignia in its wake. 

Diluc distributed them for the means of marking the body of an anomaly once they were dead, similar to a manufacturer stamping a company logo on its products. But this symbolized the completion of a case file, and tag for final disposal. 

You pocketed the device without a word, then stared back at your assigner. He held dead seriousness in his eyes, and you knew you were about to be dismissed. 

But as always, he gave you one final command: to perform a deed for humanity and exactly what M.U.S.E. stood for. 

"Kill the anomaly at all costs."

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Falcon Coast, midnight. 

The waters were pitch black, only the sounds of waves allowing their vast presence to be known. 

At this hour, the sand was cold beneath your feet—not that you could feel it, but grains stuck to your shoelaces as if begging you to turn back. You felt a little breathless. In a place so calm and airy as the shoreline, your thick uniform felt suffocating. 

Perhaps it was the near-moonless night that made you feel this way. Barely an ounce of light was gifted to you by the Gods, as if casting misfortune on your death day.  

But Gods did not exist in a land where monsters roamed. 

You did not pray for luck or for blessings; Instead, you desired. Desired, like any human in this world did. 

A mindset such as that was all that was left in a world with no Gods. You desired to go home, for one. To do that, you needed to complete your mission, which you also desired to do. And to even achieve that, you desired to kill your target. 

Most of all, of course, you desired to live. 

Just like any human did. 

A melodious hum in the air, and for a moment, you weren't quite sure if it was the wind or maybe even a stray animal. 

It was strange to you, for this was not your first time encountering a siren. These creatures always sang of riches and lust; And in a job where your life was constantly busy with death and anomalies, you couldn't find the time to even wish for either. Disinterest was an advantage you carried, and so you had no worries of ever drowning to baited desire. 

But this was different. The voice ringing in your head did not sing of such things. Rather, it sang words you couldn't quite discern. The sound was light, and even airier than the midnight beach’s breeze that broke at your uniform. 

There was a certain sweetness that drew you closer. If you did not know any better, then perhaps you would have fallen by now, snapped and drowned by this monster by the rocks of the coast. 

A sudden weight was thrown onto you, and you found your back hitting the ground. Cold sand immediately poured down and tickled your face, and you winced—until you realized you were still able to breathe. It was then you figured this was not sand, but instead silk locks of hair that were remarkably similar in color. 

One singular flash of light, and your hands flew up to grip it on instinct. 

When you opened your eyes, all you saw was shining silver. 

Silver lied in the blade of the dagger that hung centimeters away from the skin of your neck, a color that would kill you if you let go of her hands. Silver lied in the gleam of the moon, finally parting from its hiding place behind the clouds at a destined time like this. And, silver lied in the colors of her eyes. 

Those passionate eyes that pierced you with more violence than her dagger could ever. 

"Well, you're certainly fast," you say to her. It's the first attempt you make at conversation, and you're already annoying her with the way your lips curl into some casual smile. All the while, her body is over your own, trying to kill you. 

Her hands shake against your hold in an attempt to push the dagger down harder. 

"Shut it," she hisses in frustration. 

You can't help but notice how pretty she is under the uncovered moonlight, but you knew better. This job was not unfamiliar to you, after all. You used what you owned as an advantage—namely, your legs—to knee her off of you, sending her falling to her side. 

With only a mermaidlike tail to assist, the creature lost her balance, holding the dagger for dear life as she stumbled. 

She looked towards you as you got up, and that was when you saw it in her eyes. 

Unadulterated fear. 

But how could she, a severity level seven monster, be so fearful of you—you, who was but a mortal human? 

When you approached her, she kept her eyes trained on you. The creature pointed the dagger up at your standing figure, though her arms were as shaky as the night's winds. Her knuckles paled a deadly white even more ghostly than the moon, for the grip she held on her dagger was enough to keep you cautious. 

It was she who attacked you first on this lonely night. She—whose hair blended with the sand, whose skin fared against the moonlight, whose face depicted but a frightful soul—tried to kill you. But it didn't seem out of pleasure, no; instead the action appeared to stem from desperation. 

"I sensed your desire," she breathed out lowly, as if answering your unspoken question. 

This was nothing uncommon, however, as it was a trait natural to sirens. Every human had desire; it was a weakness taken advantage of by these creatures. Lust, pride, greed—they sang of such yearnings to lure in their next kill. In spite, you desired no such commodities, so what really struck unusual was her demeanor. 

"Your desire..." she called out as she scurried back again, "to kill me."

To kill her... That was your job, and of course, your current desire. M.U.S.E. soldiers exterminated any anomaly they deemed alien to the mortal world. The mermaidlike tail she had instead of legs, the alluring sweetness in her voice, the scales that littered her abdomen—all marks of a creature that did not belong. 

And yet, amidst this lonely night, under the luminous moon, did it finally hit you. That look in her silver eyes, a danger that could rival the gleam of the stars. In it, you ultimately realized. 

She only desired to live. 

Just like any human did. 

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You weren't quite sure why you left her alone last night. 

Falcon Coast tonight was the same as the last, and it only reminded you of the way her arms faltered once you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your uniform pants. Her face had contorted into one of pure confusion, as if her mind was scrambling to figure out what you were doing. 

She made no sound when you walked off, leaving her to drown alone in the uncertainty of the ocean's waters. 

But tonight, you were back, and this time, you planned on talking to her. You only hoped she wasn't as frantic as before. 

The vibrato ringing against your ears sang of different desires this time. It sang of love and passion, of riches and greed. It sang the words a siren would normally chant, and so you were indifferent to the sickly sweetened words that promised a future that did not exist. 

If not for the recognizable voice, you would've thought this was a different siren. However, the way in which she sang could only imply one thing on a night as still as this. 

"Sir, please do not take another step!"

The lonesome sailor on the beach was already dipping his feet in the water, seeming to be drawn by the gracious voice. You have seen this countless times before already—this man was so close to the waves of death that you bolted the moment you realized he hadn't heard you. His mind only swarmed with the voice of that silver eyed woman you met last before the rising dawn. 

He was clouded with his own desire, one that lured him towards the depths of the sea, and one that ultimately sent you pulling him back by his collar away from the shore. The man yelled as he came to his senses; he scrambled up from the sand with widened eyes. 

"Leave this place immediately," was all you commanded, and once the moonlight shone against the metal insignia on your uniform, he knew better than to disobey. 

You felt a set of hands suddenly grasp at your ankles, before they suddenly pulled. The cuffs of your pants became drenched against the cold waves, and your shoes grew heavy from the rush of water. Immediately, you prepared yourself for the worst—closing your eyes and readying your arms in preparation to fight this siren from pulling you into the sea and drowning you. 

Except, the feel of saltwater never came. Instead, the waves never slid past your ankles, though they were still being held down in a sitting position by this creature. 

"You're lucky you're a pretty woman." 

You opened your eyes to find that same siren from last night, still piercing you with her glare alone. But now that she was in front of you, with the light behind her back, you couldn't help but think the silver of her eyes were much more remarkable than the glow of the moon itself. Nothing could compare, not even when stands of her silk hair fell in front of her face. 

A complete contrast to the last midnight. Instead of a dagger to your throat, there was only her grip on your ankles. Even the waves that kissed your shoes were gentle as you sat in the sand, faced right in front of the deadly waters. She laid in front of you on her stomach, the sand surrounding her body as if she was one with the shoreline itself. Her tail rested in the moving waters, but her upper body bent up to meet your eyes. 

You responded, "I don't believe my physical attributes have relevance as to why you aren't attempting to stab or drown me this time."

"Isn't it obvious, M.U.S.E. soldier?" she scoffed, and you quickly realized she was familiar with your organization and its purpose. "I can sense you no longer carry the desire to kill me."

You stayed quiet at that; and at this moment, under the embrace of the moonlit waves, she looked supernaturally divine. 

"But I'm... confused," she continued, brows furrowing in a look of genuine perplexity. "Your desire was to get rid of me the last time you appeared, but then it changed." She seemed nervous for a moment, and it was obvious in the way her grip tightened on your ankles that you baffled her. "And now, it's different again."

"Would it be so absurd if I said I didn't want to kill you?" For now, at least.

"Yes," she responded with a glare, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Before you could react, her hands immediately pulled your body closer with a strength that could only belong to a monster like her. She settled closer atop the sand between your legs, trapping you in her shoreline of song. "All M.U.S.E. soldiers that crossed this shoreline have tried to kill me."

For a moment, you feel pity. And perhaps it was then that you forgot she was a siren for just a fraction of a second. It felt like a slap in the face—to be a high ranking official in exterminating monsters, and yet this one anomaly made you forget she was, in fact, not human at all. 

"Is that where you obtained that dagger," you asked, though it was spoken more like a continued thought. "I could tell it belonged to my organization."

She paused for a second in slight surprise, before answering, "Yes... I stole it off the second soldier that tried to kill me..."

You stayed silent, though it was mostly due to your thoughts wandering to where such a dagger was. She held it so tightly last time in attempts to murder you, but now, it was nowhere to be seen. Her hands held securely at your legs, and you doubted she had the ability to hide it in her tail. 

"I don't get it." After a moment, the frustration was clear in her voice, and it was even more evident in the way her glare resumed at you. "Why do you still have no desire to get rid of me? Did you not see how I tried to kill a man just as you arrived?" 

"It sounds like you know you're doing a bad thing," was all you said. 

She reluctantly replied, "I'm not asking for your validation, but... He was married, he had a ring on." You weren't quite sure if she was explaining herself, or excusing her actions. "And yet he still came for me," she grew quieter, "just like all those other sailors at sea..."

When she trailed off, you noticed her eyes didn't quite meet your own anymore. Only the sounds of midnight's waves rang through your ears now; and as the water soaked through your pants, you leaned forward. The skin of her face was soft when you held it, unlike the dryness that saltwater left nor like the scales on her tail. She was surprised, but still made no move when your other hand combed through the locks of her side bangs—it was as smooth as you imagined last night, she was beautiful. 

"Is there something I can call you?" you asked her gently, and it looked as if she fell in seconds. 

Sterling silver looked up at you with a genuine curiosity, as if your lack of hostility was something she had never encountered before. Your touch seemed foreign to a monster like her—it was one she froze from in breathless delight, warmer than the waters of her home in the sea. 

"Rosalyne." 

Her murmur. It was trusting. You thought it was such a shame that an anomaly could have such a pretty name and a gentle soul. 

"My name is Rosalyne."

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You thanked your high ranking position in the organization, otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten away with seeing her again and again every day for the next week or more. Actually, you couldn’t tell how long it has been anymore. 

"A metal brander?!" Rosalyne winced one night, hands flying up to cover her mouth. "He sounds so uptight to be distributing something so unnecessary like that!" 

"He is," you sighed at the time. "I don't work under Ragnvindr often, but I still don't like him. He's so particular about certain things..."

She seemed to think for a second, before moving to ramble, "You know..." She spoke to you of fire and of burn marks, of chemical reactions and of bonds you never expected a siren to know—the most nerdy and scientific of explanations. But you could hear her go on and on for hours. 

It was probably lonely at sea with no one to talk to. 

She was just as pretty in the daytime as she was at night, if not, then even more lively than you imagined. Her voice was melodious, too; hearing it in her natural volume felt like you were conversing with a regular person at times. 

On some days, you sit behind the rocks far off the coast, away from the public eye in the blinding daylight. You love to dangle your legs off the edge into the water, and more often than not, Rosalyne's taken the habit of laying her head on your lap. It's a natural kind of intimacy, one where she finds comfort in the way your fingers brush through her hair, and the way the ocean's movement flows with the rest of her body underwater. 

When she looks up at you in this new light, you find a whole new part of her to uncover. 

On the night you met, her eyes were like the silver of her stolen dagger. And now, they seemed to paint the colors of the ocean. 

A light, pale blue that almost blended with the seafoam of the coastline. It crashed into you like waves, and you feel you may never resurface. But, it was a new color you found yourself loving alongside silver. 

"Hm..." you hummed one gentle morning as she laid soundly on your lap, playing with the fingers of one of your hands. "Rosey." 

"...Rosey?" she echoed. 

"For one, it sounds like your name," you explained rather simply. "Second, you always have such cute, rosy cheeks." You freed your hands from her own grasp, moving to lift her face from your lap so you could hold both her cheeks. "Aw, look. They've turned redder."

"St-Stop it!" 

Her hands shot up to grab at your own, attempting to remove them from your face. But she stopped so suddenly, her eyes darting to the side in curiosity when her thumb brushed over a bump in your wrist. 

"What's this?" she asked, moving your arm so that it faced upwards. While one of her hands held your palm, the other was caressing over a—

Oh.

"It's a... tracker," you answered simply. "You get it surgically placed once you start working for the organization." Then you trailed your other hand up your arm, stopping right above her own fingers to a certain part of your wrist. "They place it near the pulse, which gets tracked, as well."

"So... Every soldier has one here...?" 

"Not quite," you explained. "Due to more recent advanced technology, newer personnel have them near their neck pulse"—you felt her wince—"but I'm an older recruit."

She stayed silent at this revelation, supposedly because she didn't quite know what to say. Instead, she continued to stare down at your wrist with an expression you didn't quite like. 

It was the first you'd ever seen a sorrow that matched the bottom of the ocean in the blues of her eyes. 

On other days, perhaps in the evenings as the sun is still setting, she holds you in her arms in places the light does not touch. In coves or in rocks, it's as silent as the setting sun when you rest your head on her shoulder. 

Perhaps you were an idiot to let her hold you in the water, for the moment she lets go, she could drown you in one swipe. And yet you stayed in her embrace, even in the deepest of waters. She hasn't let go of you yet, anyways, not even once. 

"Why do you do it?" you asked her one evening. Your voice came out as a whisper, and she shivered when your lips brushed against the skin of her neck. 

Equally as quiet, she responded, "Do what?"

"Why"—you hugged her tighter—"have you slaughtered?" Were you scared she would let go, or did you fear her answer? 

"I..." she hesitated. If you were imaginative, then you might've assumed she was reluctant to respond. But even now, you weren't sure if you wanted to find out, yourself. "I really didn't mean to, at first."

You stayed silent to let her continue, but you didn't ignore the way her arms tugged at your waist, pulling you closer to her body. It was as if she was hiding herself, though somehow, you couldn't blame her. Even when she buried her face in the damp crook of your neck, you allowed her your comfort in the cold water. 

"I just sang because I loved to, so far out at sea..." Rosalyne mumbled, and perhaps she found relief in the way you were not able to see her face. "I really didn't think it would attract a group of sailors... And then they..." She trailed off for a moment, internally cursing herself for trying to make excuses. "I guess they wanted to take me, and I guess their demise was my way of self-defense, that's all."

"Rosey..."

"Attracting them was easy, so then I just kept doing it..." she continued, "to cleanse the world of people like them." She thought she was doing a good deed—as if the ends justified her means, even in all its extremity. "Those married sailors, all greedy for a woman's body and for fame..."

The next thing you knew, she gripped onto your back, yet with all the delicacy in the world. A testimony of her crimes, one that should've reminded you just how dangerous she could be—and, how stupid you were for enveloping yourself in her arms atop the perilous waters. But somehow, even after she admitted all of this, you didn't feel scared. 

"They didn't deserve to go home happy," she concluded, all said with the quietest mumble you've heard thus far. 

She was so gentle and so pretty. 

No wonder she was able to kill so many people. 

...Right. She was a siren. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against her hips under the water, feeling scales instead of skin. Even after all this time you spent together, nothing changed. She was still not human, but instead a monster who had killed people. 

And you were still assigned to kill her. 

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"What is taking you so long?" 

You had never heard Diluc raise his voice at you like this before. To a lower recruit that messed up, sure; to a monster he was fighting, yes. But never to you, a respectable member of M.U.S.E. 

"Did I not detail how important the death of the target is in this mission? Four. This siren has killed four of our own personnel."

Your lips stayed sealed as he scolded you like a child; though what else could you do, when you didn't even know how to respond? You couldn't make up an excuse for spending countless days in the arms of your target, when she was just that: your target. Kill the anomaly at all costs, yet you had been doing anything but that. 

"What have you been up to?" Diluc stressed. "Are you scared? Is that why you're not killing it? Fear?"

"...Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters."

There it was, that quote again. The first time it was uttered from your lips, you were so sure of your own values in this job. But now, it was almost as if you said it just to remind yourself. Or, you were convincing yourself that killing was still your goal in the end. 

Diluc himself made no reaction other than complete silence. If he didn't believe you, then he didn't show it. And if he did, then there was no indication of such, either. 

"You better live up to those words, and don't disappoint," was what he said after a while. He finally turned, and you almost sighed in relief from the lack of punishment on your end. "The lives of Mondstadt's citizens depend on you," he began to conclude. "Prevent more tragic deaths from a vile creature." 

You bit your tongue. 

"And kill the anomaly with no remorse."

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The wind blew across a greyish sky, the sun barely peering for an early, cloudy morning. 

Empty was the sand on the beach, for regular civilians normally did not come near the waters during this hour of the day. The wind was too strong, and it bit at any skin so roughly that even a siren understood this loneliness. 

But you were now her one companion in mornings such as these. You, with your fleeced coat and body heat giving a more passionate warmth than the sun had ever given her. You, whose hands didn't mind embracing her freezing skin that was still cold from the waters. And you, who still wore your M.U.S.E. uniform every time you saw her. 

The winds felt absent when she leaned against you, arms loosely wrapped around your neck. Even when her lips accidentally brushed against your skin as she laid atop your shoulder, humming lightly into the morning breeze, you still did not flinch away from her. 

And she felt comfort from that—to be treated as a person rather than a monster. 

"Rosey," you quietly called for her, and she found herself trying to keep her body as close to you as possible, even when she had to look up at you. But she leaned away nevertheless, though felt butterflies when you shifted your coat so it covered her back, as well.

"Hm?" She sounded almost sleepy, and you couldn't help but smile at the way her eyes were bluer than this grey morning. 

"If I could ask you a favor..."

The siren stared up at you curiously, awaiting your question. You could only hope that your request wouldn't be seen as offensive. 

"Can you... Can you sing for me?" you asked quite hesitantly. Her eyes widened instantly. "Normally, I mean—sing as you loved to." 

Rosalyne's breath seemed to catch in her lungs for a moment. It was not a request she expected, for her singing was only used nowadays to lure in those sleazy sailors. But this was different; you wanted to hear her actually sing. You didn't want her body so superficially like those men did, no. It was her genuine voice you wanted to hear. 

The voice that drew in that first group of vile men in the first place. 

She quickly shook off the thought. 

"You... really want me to?" she made sure. 

"Yes." 

"And you trust me?" 

"Of course I do."

She didn't even catch the way she smiled so brightly at your words. Of course I do, in which you said with not a single stutter or reluctance. 

You both knew what she was asking upon the mention of trust: there was a silent understanding that she was still a siren, known for luring prey with her voice. And despite that, you trusted her. Even though the potential consequences were obvious, you still asked her to perform with her most dangerous weapon, her own voice. 

Rosalyne felt her heartstrings strum in elation. 

In a spark of excitement, she backed away from your warmth, scooting in the sand to sit herself in front of you. You couldn't help but find her so adorable; it was like she was readying herself for a performance. The gentle morning waves hit her tail so gracefully, and you could've sworn the clouds were beginning to clear just for her. 

"The west wind..."

You almost didn't hear her at first, for the tenderness of her voice carried with the lightness of the wind. Her eyes closed in poise, and your breath caught in your lungs.

"...Bears wine's fragrance away."

It was a song you recognized from sailors at sea, or from bards in drunken taverns. A song so common and diluted by the people of Mondstadt, that its lyrics were predictable in your head. 

"The breeze from afar..."

Yet, they were anything but ordinary to you. Her voice and reverberated passion made you sit in anticipation atop the sand, as if it was a song entirely new to your ears. She awoke its beauty in a way that had you entranced—though not under a siren's spell, but instead her own loveliness. 

"...sings of my longing for y—"

"Hey, Hey... Look'it what we got 'ere!"

Her singing was cut off rather shortly, merely a stanza in before the rough grunt and laugh of a man intercepted her song. 

A group of sailors on the beach during this early morning. From the looks of it, they had likely just docked on shore, or arrived merely hours ago. You couldn't tell—life at sea was always a sporadic one. But what worried you was not exactly their arrival, however, but more so the fact that you and your siren companion were out in the open. 

And panic surged the moment you caught their gazes—dead trained on her tail. 

"This the same beast that killed one of us last month?" the same man asked. His words were strained and raspy, incredibly reminiscent of a smoker's voice. And sure enough, his chapped lips curled around a little white stick of smoke. 

"Most likely, sir! Looks like following that singing was a good idea."

Your attention perked up at the voice, before your eyes directed to an aberrant person in the group of sleazy sailors. A younger peer of yours, wearing the same, dark uniform as you with that shining silver insignia. 

"Cadet Adam," you recognized, trying to dispel the shakiness of your voice. Perhaps if you gained control of him, he and his group would be convinced to leave. An even worse outcome—to have another M.U.S.E. employee here, especially one who was not a full soldier yet. 

"Hello, ma'am!" he happily chirped with a salute. "Mr. Ragnvindr told me to accompany you!" 

But Diluc made it clear he didn't want to give me a partner...

"I see you found the siren already!" Adam grinned, blowing a puff of smoke. He was an uncanny kind of positive, one that unnerved you. And his words only drew you closer to the woman your mind was suddenly bound to protect. You shifted in the sand ever so slightly, but nevertheless moving in front of her despite the cold waters. 

One of the sailors spat in the water, then took a swig of his bottle. "This one of yer coworkers?"

"Yep!" Adam happily replied, not seeming to mind the rotten smell of smoke and cheap alcohol that these sailors reeked. In fact, he himself chewed at a cigar between his lips. "She's a high ranking M.U.S.E official! She actually saved me and killed another siren not too long ago!" 

Though she was behind, you did not miss Rosalyne's flinch. 

You also did not miss the guilt that pooled in your throat. Not only from the fact you had asked her to sing in the first place, which ultimately drew the sailors in, but also the reminder that you were still indeed a M.U.S.E. officer. Though, until now, you had never felt such regret from doing your job before. 

"Ma'am, I'm here to help you with this case!"

"There's no need for that, Adam."

"Nonsense! Mr. Ragnvindr told me this would be counted as the final exam for my training!" 

Before you could reply, a strangled yelp came from behind. When you turned back at the sound, Rosalyne was already pulled farther away from you, being held at both her arms by two of the men. They were rough, gripping her skin like she was another batch of fish they just hauled from the ocean; and she looked almost terrified. 

"Rosa—"

"Just sit 'n watch, ma'am!" Adam hurried, blowing smoke near your face. "I was told you'll be the one to approve of my graduation as a cadet, so I'd love to do the honors of killing the beast for you!" 

Somehow, the words tainted you more than they should've. Even as Adam forced you to stand back and watch, that word stayed ringing in your head: beast. 

It made you feel hatred. It made you despise these humans in a way a monster would—these humans and their smell of vodka and cigarettes, laughing at this whole ordeal. This hatred was all in defense of this anomaly who technically did not deserve your compassion. But you wanted her to deserve it; in fact, you truly felt like she did. 

And so your body moved on its own. You charged towards her despite Adam's protest, the only thought in your head being to save her. 

"Don't!" she yelled towards you, and you stopped. "Don't lay a finger on me..." Her voice held a forced sense of animosity that shocked you; she spoke as if you were any other M.U.S.E. soldier. And yet, the blue in her eyes displayed a whole sea of emotions: fear, panic, and desperation, and some sort of trust in you to rid of all this dismay. 

The look alone made you realize: she was acting to protect your image. 

A M.U.S.E. officer and a siren. Only one was fated to live in the end, and only one of you had the upper hand here. 

She ripped one of her arms out of their grip, moving quickly to reach for her dagger to slice them, all in attempts to save herself. If she's survived all this time alone, then she can surely do so again as you watched her—at least, that was what you were telling yourself to believe. 

But it was getting unbearable for you to watch as more of these sleazy sailors piled on her as if she was some wild animal. They were rough with the way they tried to put her and her weapon down, and the contrast of her struggling expression to your cadet's elated one made you nauseous. 

"Enough now," you commanded him. "I'll do my own job." 

"Please, not yet, ma'am!" he begged you, ash falling from his lips. "I promise I can kill it as soon as possible—" 

"Hey, stop strugglin' you witch!" 

Another yelp had cut off your cadet as your attention flew back to the siren, whose limbs and hair were getting pulled by sailors wanting to restrain her. Not just restrain her, even. The ultimate goal was to kill her. 

And even as her dagger swung wildly, she was still outnumbered by their calloused hands and barbaric pull. 

Rosalyne bellowed, "I'm not a—!"

A sailor's bottle of vodka came slamming down, right onto the side of her head and splashing its contents to her face. She let out a sound of immediate pain, still unable to break free from the men even as glass shards fell to the sand and cut the skin of her face and tail. 

Her dagger fell out of her hands, and the first you saw was the puff of cigar smoke from Adam's lips. 

He approached her so suddenly, not a word spoken to you; but his face brightened as if he had an epiphany. There was such a sycophantic look in his eyes that made your gut drop. In his mouth bobbed the cigar, and in his pockets his hands were fiddling to find something. As his heavy shoes crunched the glass down on the sand, kicking her dull dagger backwards, all you saw was red. 

The red of blood trickling down the right side of her face from the glass bottle. 

And, the red of the fire from his cigar lighter. 

You dashed a little too late when he threw the fire at her alcohol-drenched face, and what you heard first in your ringing ears was another pained cry, and then laughter, and then a final shout— 

Until your hand swung down in utter hatred. 

You didn't even realize you picked up her dagger until the silver of the blade—a silver that so much resembled her burning eye—shined against the morning waves, and pierced right through his flesh. 

Adam froze when the blade impaled his skin, his own coworker stabbing him in the back. Perhaps the pain didn't register yet with the way he seemed paralyzed in his spot. But the other sailors scattered when they noticed the knife in his back, or perhaps it was the fury in your eyes. They dropped Rosalyne so suddenly onto the sand, and she scurried towards the water the moment she was free. 

But you panicked. 

Your own hand had inflicted harm upon your cadet. You... were a traitor. 

But it couldn't just end like this. You couldn't just take the dagger out and run. What would happen, then—when he reports you to the organization? What would happen when Diluc finds out that you lied to him? That you were protecting your target this whole time? 

What's done was done, and without thinking, you pulled the dagger out, then slid it to slice open the front of his throat, and his body fell to the red-stained sand. 

If the other sailors were still here, you'd be damned. 

"W-What..." You turned to the side, seeing the siren you had just killed a man for. A part of her was in the water, seeming to use the waves of cold water to ease her burns. However, her hands pressed down tightly on the right side of her face—whether it was because of the pain or because she didn't want you to see her, you didn't know. But she spoke out in horror, "What have you done...?" 

"Why the hell would he send me a trainee?!" you grunted. That was the only thing you could curse; you had no other words to explain yourself.

But your first priority was her. It was always her. Completely leaving the body on the red-soaked sand, you turned to step into the gentle water—only for her to flinch away. And yet, there was no fear of you in her eyes, only tides of worry. 

"Just..." she stuttered out. "Just go." 

"What?" 

"Go, please. It was my fault, this was a mistake," Rosalyne stared in distress at the dead soldier. "I'll take the blame for it, please, I don't want you to be labeled a traitor—" 

"I won't be," you quickly reassured. But you weren't even sure if you were really telling the truth, or just trying to convince the both of you. "I can cover this up, Rosalyne, I can..."

"How?" she sounded out. Her eyes shifted to that of desperation, as if she was hopeless in her pleas to be saved. 

She truly had no more hope in a world that was so cruel to her. How could your heart possibly not break? Even after she was pulled, hit, and burned—even after she bled into the water, looking like she would pass out at any second—she still wanted you to return to your normal life and keep your position. Without her. 

"Stop being so stubborn, just say the death was caused by me," she demanded in a way that sounded like she was begging you to save yourself—save yourself from a monster like her. You could've laughed at the thought. Who was truly the monster now when you just slit the throat of your own cadet who was simply doing his job? "Doesn't he have a pulse tracker, like you? Please just listen to me... You'll be found out." 

"Rosey," you mumbled, as gently as you possibly could. Against this dull morning light, the sun still rising and hidden behind the clouds, you two looked like a tragedy even as you smiled. "Close your eyes for me, okay?"

She didn't listen, but only gritted her teeth as she watched you step over to your cadet's body. Two fingers slid down the side of his neck, and surely: still a pulse. It had already been a few minutes. It might stop soon. Two fingers slid up under his jaw, and surely: still a bump, still a tracker.

You did not hesitate when you twirled her dagger to cut right in. The tracker was gouged out and broken between your bare fingers. Unsympathetically. Perhaps the weight of it all hadn't sunken in yet. 

"...You're horrible to do this all for someone you're supposed to kill." 

When you looked back at her, still in the water when she spoke, she watched your actions intently. She calmed down, luckily, though it might've been from the faintness of blood and the pain her body was experiencing. But despite the disappointment lacing her expression, she did not fear you, nor did she despise you. If anything, it was clear that she was going to pass out any second now. 

"And you're even more horrible for killing all those sailors in the past, even though I know why you did it," you told her. She looked away. "And..." you continued, "those men are horrible for trying to kill someone close to me, so I guess we're all just terrible people in this world." 

Her visible eye widened at the despairing smile you gave her. Even after all of this, even with your years of involvement in M.U.S.E., to be someone close to her... 

Under the morning sun that finally rose, she couldn't help but lean her face into the crook of your neck when you carried her, running away from the sin you both committed against the world.

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Hard tiles, white bath curtains, running water, and purple petals. 

When you finally stepped foot in your house and placed her in your bathtub, you took your first breath of relief. Though you had just committed a crime that could not only change the course of your life, but also downright demolish all your sense of values, you couldn't help but be thankful. 

She was here now, safe in the comforts of your own home and sitting all sleepy in your bathtub. Placing her dagger at the side of the tub, you examined her state. Rosalyne's delicate nature was stained with that of burned skin and dried alcohol. In silence, you began to clean her wounds; and in what was perhaps shyness, she looked away. She did not shy away due to uncomfort, no, but instead from what seemed to be embarrassment as she still covered the right side of her face. 

Pushing the pure white curtains away, you whispered to her, "Please let me help you, Rosalyne."

"...I look terrible." 

"You'll look more terrible if I don't treat you."

"You're helping a monster who doesn't deserve it." 

"After all of this, you really believe I think of you as any less than human?" 

The word seemed to stun her. Human. 

How ironic, for a M.U.S.E. soldier, the very soldiers meant to kill her kind—how ironic it was for you to be the first person to ever call her human. But no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she couldn't help the feeling of warmth she felt when you validate her existence as more than some wicked anomaly. 

At the same time, she felt sick. In order to save her from death, you turned yourself against all your values.

Unable to swallow the guilt in her throat, she hesitantly loosened and moved her arms away from her face, which she tried to tilt away from you. But curse your caring touch, for the feeling of your hand pulling gently at her chin was one she could not draw away from. Your touch was tender on her burns—cooling, even. It was like ice, yet not as bitter and sharp. 

And when you looked into her single working eye...

All the devastations of the world flooded purple hues. 

Without thinking, you pulled her face and leaned forward, your lips planting down softly on her burned right eye. Your kiss was so light and her face was so wounded that you weren't even sure if she could feel it. But the sudden red tint on her left cheek said it all, and soon she was melting in your touch for more of your affections. 

This pale purple was a new color, alongside blue and silver. Calm blue like the ocean, and dangerous silver like her blade. 

Purple, like... 

"I've never seen you in anything but your uniform before," she told you with the kindest of smiles, seeming to have loosened up to your care. If you were being blunt, you'd say she even looked a little dazed as you cleaned her skin and her wounds. "You're so pretty"

"You're literally half burnt and you're throwing compliments at me?" you scoffed. 

You had changed into more casual wear after setting her down. The typical M.U.S.E. uniform was too stuffy, and she seemed to agree. But it was all trivial conversations. Were you going to talk about what had happened earlier? Probably not. Not now, at least. 

Because for now, she was safe in your arms. She was alive. 

"Are those flowers real?" she asked as you scratched shampoo into her hair. She was unfamiliar with these sorts of bath things, but its scent reminded her of your own (and she’d be lying if she said the smell did not calm her down).

Your eyes followed her gaze until they landed on a vase you kept as decor on the sink. "Those?"

"Yeah, up there." You nodded at her absentmindedly. "I don't see flowers often since I'm usually in the water..." she mumbled as you poured water over her head and rinsed her hair. "What are they?" 

"Purple hyacinths."

She only hummed in response, choosing to stay silent and keep her head down as you rinsed her hair of shampoo. It was as silky as always, though you were more gentle with her than ever before. When you pulled back her hair, she turned to you, curiosity showing only superficially in her eyes. 

"What do they represent?" she quietly asked. 

Only the light splashing of water was heard as you stared at her. Those eyes of hers—the door to a soul you believed was no less than human. They carried the weight of an ocean, and yet you saw lilac fields in them now, or even lavender buds. But most of all, purple petals of hyacinth blossoms swirled endlessly in her eyes. 

And in them, you saw the exact meaning. 

"...Sorrow."

Silver, blue, and finally purple... akin to the sorrows of her life. 

They bloomed, and they lived their short lives through this devastation. Despite its beauty, despite its freedom, they lived in sorrow, and then they died. No one mourned the loss of a monster. 

But before you knew it, she was shaking your shoulders, calling your name to get your attention. 

She whispered, "What are we going to do...?"

You did not fail to catch the defeated sound in her voice, waves of helplessness rushing over. You, still a member of an organization that killed her kind, were her last line of life, and she trusted it all to you. "I'll lie to them, don't you worry," you whispered closely to her. "You're safe here, I promise." 

"Wouldn't it just be easier to dispose of me?" she pleaded through gritted teeth. "I don't want to burden you with the punishment..."

"Rosalyne," you called to her. A spiral of silver, blue, and purple—all begging for a life that was simpler than this. "I want to save you," you swore, "and I will."

"I'm... scared." 

"I am, too," you admitted. And once you grabbed both her hands in yours, though they were burned and wounded, you vowed to her. "But we'll see what happens tomorrow, alright?" you smiled. "We'll pass through with you safe and alive."

She seemed stunned for a moment, mouth hanging slightly ajar as if she had not heard such phrases ever before in her life—and truly, she probably hadn't. Not for a wicked monster like her. And yet at this moment... She felt human. Her eyes began to water like any human would, and she could not control her tears as she leaned forward so suddenly, seeking the comfort of your warmth. 

"Thank you..." she cried into your skin. "I've not known kindness until now..."

And you allowed her to cry—you let her wail out the sorrows of her life onto your shoulder until she had no more tears to spill. At the end of it all, she had emotions like any person you had ever met. She clinged on so tightly, only loosening her grip when her breath finally slowed down until near-slumber. 

"Rest now," you whispered tenderly to her ear. 

She only hummed against your shoulder, before mumbling sleepily near your ear. 

"I love you." 

"...Too early." 

"Sorry." 

"But I love you, too."

And when she smiled at you one last time before falling asleep, you swore you saw blossoming life within her purple hues. 

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She was still sound asleep in the waters of your bathtub when you awoke. 

This damned uniform never felt so evil before, but you had to report in today after that whole accident. You gave Rosalyne merely a kiss on her forehead and a smile, before you left her in the comforts of her home to visit the organization early this morning. 

"Well, well... If it isn't the overseer of M.U.S.E. Special File Number Two."

When you turned, you saw one of your peers, Kaeya Alberich, leaned against the wall. He looked at you with his usual, casual smirk. 

"Where's Ragnvindr?" you asked him. 

"Diluc's out today for some mission," he waved off rather dismissively, as if this was some mere office job with no dangers or death. Oh, how you wished it was like that. "But he had something to tell you, so I'm here to play messenger."

You narrowed your eyes. "Go on."

"Woah, woah, it's nothing bad!" He seemed to sense your caution, and so he pushed a hand towards you, reassuring calmly, "No need to be so tense." 

If you were also hiding an anomaly in your house like I am, then you'd know this tenseness.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat after seeing you attempt to relax. "Your case has been dropped." 

"...What?"

"There haven't been reports of any deaths lately concerning your anomaly, despite it being a level seven," Kaeya shrugged. "And other members haven't reported sightings of it, either, so Diluc decided to drop the case for now."

He looked so passive—he had no idea the feelings of pure joy this news just brought you. 

"Anyways," he continued, "newer cases have come in and we need you to handle some of them." 

You were almost too happy to speak. "So..." It was so hard to contain a smile. Your body was already ready to run back and cry happily to the safe siren in your home. "That's it for Special File Two?" 

"I mean, unless it shows up again, then yeah," he affirmed. "And Diluc requested that you come in tomorrow morning for a new case, by the way. Are you free for that?" 

"Of course." 

"Alright," Kaeya finalized. 

Then he pushed himself up from the wall, spinning on his heel to turn around. The blue haired man threw a casual little two-fingered salute at you, and then he finally began to walk off. 

"Godspeed."

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"Rosey!" you called out excitedly. "I'm home!"

Silence. 

"Rosalyne?" 

You smiled to yourself, she was probably still asleep. Honestly, you were also still tired. Dry eyes, raspy voice—the conversation you two had last night was still fresh in your mind. But the news from this morning was pure elation to your ears, and now there was peace. 

Were you breaking the rules? Technically, yes. In your head, it didn’t matter. 

You were protecting no monster. Rosalyne was a human. She lived like any other person; she laughed, she cried, she had the most human of emotions. 

If you killed her, it would be murder. 

"Psst!" you playfully whispered as you approached the bathroom. 

The door was already open and the light was still on. You heard the lightest of dripping sounds, meaning she still laid in the water-filled tub. Finally making it to the doorway, you gently called for her. 

"Rosa... lyne...?" 

The bath curtains were ripped, the pot of hyacinths was shattered, sprawled messily on the floor. 

Running with red. 

You froze almost instantly, and it was only then did the scent of iron hit your nose. It was putrid. The rot made its way to your head in seconds, immediately making you feel nauseous. 

The side of the bathtub visible to you streaked red going downwards; its ceramic white matched with the stained curtains on the floor. The water level... it was higher than you left it. 

Your feet felt numb, or it was fear. But you swore, you were trembling just standing there. 

The world was spinning as you took a grueling step forward, the scent practically choking you from your lungs. Another step, and you steadied yourself against the tiled wall, eyes widening in horror when you finally saw what laid before you. 

You turned and threw up near the curtains. 

Red waters, her body laying in the center of it all. Her own dagger plunged right into her heart—dragged, even, from below her shoulder down to its final resting place. Her flesh had been carved brutally along the dull blade, akin to the suffering stab of a butterknife. There was no clean cut, just chunks of her bloodied flesh dragged monstrously. 

Even as your teary eyes stared down at the blurred image of the curtains and torn purple petals, you could not get the image of her out of your head. Bruises that adorned her half-burned face only added more pain to her tattered body, and your quick glance did not miss the sight of the crescent-shaped marks of nails that clawed at her skin. 

The back of your throat was burning. In fact, your whole body was burning and you feared you may pass out atop the spill of her blood. 

"It struggled a bit." 

You almost screamed at the sudden voice. And when your body jerked itself around, there he was. 

Diluc stood nonchalantly at the doorway of your bathroom, hand busied with fixing his gloves. He presented such a brighter red than the darkness of her pouring blood, though your blurred mind coined him as a much greater evil than she could ever be. 

"Yanked on the bath curtains," he continued to describe, "probably to pull itself up."

You choked out a sob, the image of her pulling on the cloth just for a chance of life forcing its way into your head. But alas, she had no legs and not even a chance to defend herself, especially against a man like Diluc. 

He was so heartless in the way he spoke about killing her, that you almost laughed at the dark irony. She, whose artery was just so brutally punctured out, had more of a heart than this man did. She, who was now lying in a pool of her own blood, had more emotion than he did. 

She, who was dubbed as some wicked anomaly, was more human than he was. 

"How..." you croaked out, your own body rejecting you from speaking any more than that. 

"Did you really not think I would notice?" he glared down as you still sat pathetically on the ground. "What else would I suspect, when Cadet Adam's signal gets cut and his tracker goes missing? No monster knows of our trackers, at least not well enough to break them. What, I was just going to ignore that?" 

Self-blame immediately shot to your head, and your brain spun on the idea that you were not careful enough. But what else were you supposed to do? Were you really gullible enough to not catch that Diluc was onto you? Sudden realization hit you, and his next words only confirmed it. 

He continued, "You were so blinded by this monster that you didn't even realize I deliberately sent out Adam to check on you."

"You—!"

"And you killed him."

There, that ultimate truth you've been ignoring since it happened. You killed one of your peers, a human. But truly... was Diluc himself any different? 

He finally took a step forward, and your senses heightened. Though she was now nothing but a rotting corpse in your bathtub, your body still jolted with a sense of protection as he moved towards her once more. She looked so delicate with her silk hair falling down her face, swirling around her atop the water surface. 

Yet he still knelt down beside the tub, as if he had the intent to only ruin her once-gentleness further. And when he reached towards her with a certain device in his hands, you practically sprang forward. 

"Diluc, that's enough." Your voice resounded against the suffocating space desperately, your actions matching your tone as you scurried to pull on his closest arm. You slipped and pulled like a weak animal against him; but when your mind was unclear and nauseous, he practically flicked you away like a helpless puppy. 

Stumbling, you fell back on the bath curtains. The scent and her blood hitting your skin made the sickening feeling rise back into your throat again. 

But it gave you a perfect view of Diluc raising the metal stamp—the metal burner—and cruelly pressing it right on her shoulder. The smell of burning now entered your lungs until it was there, branded on her like she was cattle: 

The M.U.S.E. insignia. 

Another scar to add to her beaten body. No one mourns or cares for people like her. And Diluc did not even flinch as he branded the company's completion mark on her body. 

He looked terrifying. That stone-cold face was probably what he wore when he killed her. 

"Why..."

There was nothing more you could do but sit there. Your skin already felt sticky from her blood, and you were helpless. Diluc did all that he needed to do. 

And, she was dead. 

"Feelings don't matter in a job where we kill monsters," he quoted in that damned monotonous voice of his. "You said it yourself when you took the job."

You quietly cried, "She wasn't a monster..." 

"Well it certainly wasn't human, was it?"

It. You glared up at him, as if he just stated the most absurd nonsense to the face of the Earth. It felt like he just spat at your face, speaking blasphemy and defying all that you stood for. And, he ripped apart what you considered a human life. 

"Clean all of this up, the mission's done," he commanded you. Pocketing the metal burner, he stood up and finally made his way out the door. "We already have a new one to dispatch you on. See me in my office tomorrow morning." 

She laid lifelessly in front of you, once a smiling figure who you promised to give a better life to. How cruel, that was only last night. And now her singing voice was no more—just another mission completed. Just another monster killed by M.U.S.E., the saviors of humankind. 

Before he stepped out into daylight, he called out to you a final time. 

"Dispose of it, and spare no compassion in a job like this one."

[wuggen]

Assorted thoughts and musings on difficult games and the learning thereof, since I've just started trying to pick up fighting games and I'm in that kinda mood

So there's (at least) these kinds of difficulty that a game can have:

Comprehension difficulty: can the player tell, on an object level, what the game state is? How difficult is it to tell what is going on?

Enumeration difficulty: can the player identify, for a given game state, what their options for interaction are? How difficult is it to figure out what it is possible to do?

Execution difficulty: can the player, upon deciding on one of their options, efficiently execute it? How difficult is it to actually do the thing you want to do?

Strategic (or tactical) difficulty: can the player respond to the game state in an intelligent way that advances their own position in it? How difficult is it to make effective gameplay decisions?

I would guess that, to most people, strategic difficulty is The Good Part, the kind of difficulty that most rewards thought, experimentation, and expression of personal preference. There is also a fairly sizeable portion of people who enjoy execution difficulty, the perfection of a difficult series of actions. Consequently, Difficult Games usually lean most heavily on strategic or execution difficulty to provide their challenge (see: strategy games, RPGs, rhythm games, etc). Some very complex games may feature slightly more enumeration difficulty, but the tendency seems to be to regard enumeration difficulty as a barrier to be minimized, something standing between new players and The Good Parts of the game. Games usually do their best to make sure that there's as little comprehension difficulty as possible; if you can't tell what's going on, then you have very little way to engage with the game at all.

Fighting games are an outlier here. In my experience so far, fighting games are absolutely replete with all four kinds of difficulty.

Comprehension: on an absolute base level, fighting games are dirt simple to comprehend. There's you, there's your opponent, you're hitting each other, life bars deplete. But the level of relevant detail in the actions taking place on screen, and the sheer rate at which those actions occur, inclines me toward saying that the comprehension difficulty of fighting games is enormous. In order to accurately comprehend the game state in a moment, one needs to recognize not only that their opponent is about to hit them, but also which kind of attack they are using (mid, low, overhead, grab, etc), how many full meters they have, any special character-specific resources they may have accumulated, etc. All of these things are in principle fairly easy to recognize, but the speed at which one must recognize them — there is frequently on the order of 200 milliseconds or less available to comprehend changes to the game state — makes it very difficult to do so effectively.

Enumeration: every playable character has an absolutely unique set of special attacks and combos. Not all of them may be accessible depending on the current game state; are you in the air or on the ground? Standing or crouching? In hitstun? In recovery, and if so from which move? All of these will affect which subset of your character's moves you can make use of. Again, ~200 milliseconds to enumerate your options.

Execution: Most special moves require not just single button presses to execute, but precisely executed sequences of presses. And this is for single moves; when you consider chains and combos, with their rapid and precise timings of individual moves, each of which may require a precise sequence of presses all on its own, the challenge only increases. Learning to reliably do what you intend in a fighting game feels very similar, on a mechanical level, to learning to play a complex piece of music on the piano.

Strategic: the sheer variety of moves and move sets — not to mention the bewildering array of intricate and esoteric mechanics — puts the strategic skill ceiling of fighting games astronomically high. Choosing effectively from among your many options is an enormous challenge, one that (as I understand it) is extremely rewarding of experimentation and the development of a personal play style.

These kinds of difficulty are in a rough hierarchy with each other; some level of proficiency with each is necessary in order to even engage with the next. A player may have the most thorough and masterful understanding of the strategy of a game, but if they cannot comprehend the moment-to-moment game state, or efficiently enumerate their options in a moment, or reliably execute intended actions, then that strategic knowledge is largely irrelevant to their ability to play the game well. They simply cannot apply it.

This is, I believe, the primary reason that fighting games are notoriously beginner-unfriendly. The comprehension of the game state alone is a massive barrier to entry. The knowledge that whole other echelons of challenge exist beyond that barrier can be enticing, but it can also be deeply demoralizing when one is still struggling to understand even the basest level of the game, to even interact with it in a deliberate way.

I get the impression that seasoned players tend to develop The Sight as it were; they have spent enough time honing their skill at the "lower" levels of difficulty that comprehension, enumeration, and execution are all second-nature, almost automatic. Their understanding and experience of the game is almost entirely in the strategic sphere, and therefore (in my experience so far) most of the advice that they give to new players tends to be at that level. Unfortunately, until the new player spends a bit of time familiarizing themselves with the lower levels of difficulty, they are simply unable to apply this kind of advice. Being offered advice that one understands but is not skillful enough to apply can be a very frustrating experience; it doesn't help to know that you can easily retaliate after blocking a super attack if you struggle to realize when you've successfully blocked anything at all (actual example from a couple of days ago that was enormously frustrating for me).

The process of learning a complex system consists in large part of identifying and discarding irrelevant details, so that one's brain can cull the possibility space and focus only on the details that matter. Put another way, seasoned players are not conducting a complete survey of the game state or running through their entire catalogue of available moves in every moment; they are relying on muscle memory and past experience to narrow their focus to a select few possibilities for the current and near future game states, and a select few possibilities for how best to respond. Of course, new players do not yet have this kind of experience. The entire space of possible game states and responses is, as far as their brain is aware, more-or-less equiprobable and must be given similar consideration. The culling process starts working rapidly, of course, but for a significant amount of time the size of the perceived possibility space will remain overwhelming.

That said, knowledge of a higher level of difficulty can help to guide this culling process for a lower one. Once a new player has a basic ability to comprehend the game state, some knowledge of strategy can be very useful to them in learning to further narrow the range of possible states and relevant options. If you struggle to recognize when you've blocked an attack, the advice to retaliate after blocking may not be directly applicable, but it does help to indicate that this is a particular game state to look out for and learn to isolate. As frustrating as it can be for a brand new player, strategic advice from seasoned players can actually be very helpful, even if it cannot yet be consistently applied.

Hence, the various levels of difficulty are not at all a strict hierarchy, nor are they even cleanly disjoint categories. A player does not need to master a lower level before beginning to engage with a higher one, and indeed attempting to do so may actually impede the learning process.

[roadandruingame]

RaR Musings #6: Specialists

I was playing Baldur's Gate 3, as a rogue. I dabble in rogues in DND, PF, and mmos, and they range from satisfyingly versatile to being boringly one-dimensional. DND's structure for sneak attacks is one of the few things I'm really impressed with though, because despite all characters being able to receive Advantage for attacking from stealth, flanking an outnumbered opponent, or hitting an incapacitated enemy, only rogues transform that mechanic into bonus Sneak Attack damage, and before it was patched out (for shame), the Arcane Trickster could inflict bonus sneak attack damage on spell attacks. In BG3, multiple magic items could grant advantage in different scenarios, which the rogue could use as a "magic wand of Backstab".

That kind of semi-detached crossclassing bait was a lot of what I wanted in Road and Ruin, and over the years, I developed a few abilities that either granted, or demanded, specialization to work, but it never really got to where I wanted it to be.

______________________________

'Specialists' in Road and Ruin are a necessity for a storytelling game; whether they're controlled by a player or brought in as NPC help, they represent broad spectrums of skill and knowledge that might be unreasonable for the player party to be assumed to have. The existence of specialists should lean storytelling in the direction of seeking them out, to get their insights, or pay for their services.

The simplest way to determine a specialist is specialization as a mechanic. As mentioned in Musings #5, specialization works as a x(2-5) multiplier for proficiencies when applied to a specific, niche topic. Specialization in horses might give Husbandry, Medicine, Binding, Command, or Ride multipliers, for example.

Secondarily, Disciplines act as specializations that are required. Crafts (Blacksmithing) or Research (Town History) are skills that require training; nobody is born knowing history, and nobody should be expected to accidentally replicate hundreds of years of advancements in crafting techniques. While an adventurer might pick up some basics in armor repair, they should in no way expect to be able to craft armor themselves without the associated discipline.

While specialization could extend to equipment, all it would be is simply being proficient in a device, I think, and preventing full control unless specialized, possibly incurring a breakage risk if someone isn't trained. Airplanes, for example, or other heavy machinery. An exception to this is combat:

______________________________

A fighter can specialize in both skill with a weapon, as well as fighting against particular weapon styles. I'd thought specialization might only apply in duelling, where both fighters roll a skill check and add their successes to the results of a d4/d8/d12 To Hit die, and that, turn by turn, the higher-skilled of the two would naturally gain an edge, but that ends up being too slow. Paired with the initiative changes from Musings #3, where fighters act each round simultaneously, and that health totals are so low in order to facilitate more lethal combat, and this blow-by-blow calculation ends up not feeling very good.

A simple solution would be to adopt DND's Advantage, and have specialization in a weapon allow you to roll one additional die per specialization level, and take the higher value. Since weapons only miss on a roll of a 1, and deal half damage or full damage otherwise, specialization effectively eliminates the risk of missing with a weapon. In the case of ranged weapons, like a bow or rifle, that use a kind of exploding-dice system of d4s, specialization would simply allow rerolls of a non-4 result, greatly increasing their accuracy, and thus, damage.

Specialization at fighting against a style could mean Taking the Edge, also mentioned in Musings #3. If you know your opponent, you'd be able to anticipate their moves much better, adding to their Preemptive/Presumptive speed.

______________________________

Beyond this, tool specialization effectively manifests as spellswords.

Squad Tactics can declare a Specialist unit type, who generates Tactic Points for use by other unit tactics. This lets multiple actors set up strategies like dominos, and if applying a specialization sets up more dominos, it results in greater conclusion power/success rating.

Celestial Trajectories, Martial Weaponry, and Fortress Guard all have customizable weapons, that specializing in would be a plus, but not a mechanically unique application. Instead, 'favoring' a specific weapon, not specializing in a weapon type, determines your attunement to the customizable weapon.

Mutations grant you specialization sometimes, such as darkvision, or telescopic vision granting advantages for Perception checks. Shapeshifters are able to grant themselves a variety of senses, and animal companions give you a second chance to detect things, if they're trained for that and have the senses, whereas sense-sharing would allow you to temporarily don a sense as a mutation.

Concealed Weaponry gives bonus damage and special effect application for rolling maximum on an attack roll against an unaware or distracted target, which would be made easier with stealth, but also with specialization in the weapon. It can also disguise said weapon, and has a special attack for a flurry with your specialized weapon.

Nimble Fingers' Maestro's Direction and Floral Flourish's Bud-bloom Brownies let you give commands to others, like conjured spirits, to do actions that you specialize in.

Cloaked in Shadow and Floral Flourish has material micromanagement, using mats like shadows and plants to grant specialization in a skill check.

So, after all this, I feel like I DO have some decent options for specialists, but as always, it depends what the specialist aims to achieve. Simply specializing in something doesn't have any kind of diverse spectrum of outcomes, so it'd have to be designed on an individual basis, but what I've got already is probably a good start.

[tomkail]

Randomising item names

Just a musing, this one.

Take an open world game with lots of unique collectable flora; MGS5, WOW or Zelda. Now, imagine that the names of the plants were different for each player; each game generating their names on the creation of a new save, or forcing players to write their own names for plants as they encounter them.

Why do this? To deliberately break down communication between players. I'm quite sure this would prove frustrating, in the way that removing efficiencies always is; but in exchange discussion of the game would become richer, and the world more mysterious.

As far as I know this has never been done (except in real history!) in a game. I'd love to see how it would play out, but here's some things I think we could expect to see:

Players would be forced to consider the appearance and uses of items

Designers would spend more time considering the appearance of items, and how players are able to inspect them

Items could even have minor variations to them to make identification more difficult

Players would create (likely very descriptive) names for objects themselves

Items with shared properties (for example, two similar-looking blue flowers that both induce sleep, except that one of them is also toxic and only found by rivers) require deeper understanding and more complex descriptions.

Wikis would become very difficult to use

Field guides would prove more effective as static documents

Communication with other players would become a more desirable means of gaining knowledge

AI would be effective too - something to consider as it becomes a new system game designers can make use of!

Items would be more opaque to new players, and they will initially ignore or undervalue objects - this is likely prove frustrating, since it undermines how games normally work.

As players continue to play, their interest in the system will increase, and eventually their understanding will prove rewarding and afford higher levels of skill.

Communication itself becomes a high-skill activity that can be improved with game and meta (understanding how other players perceive items) knowledge

Especially in online games, expect the community to coin static language for each item. This would likely undermine some of the effects of the design

Designers might be inclined to fight back against the freezing of terminology by changing items over time; although I suspect this would prove frustrating to the community unless a good excuse existed for doing so.

This is a design that requires a complex game around it; I suspect it'd be difficult to build a game around by itself. If we see it, my guess is that it'll come out of a more hardcore game or out of the indie space.

This is not an immediately lovable piece of game design, but I'd wager that it'd create a strong community and a game that is remembered for being unique.

[funkaliicious]

MUSE PERSONALITY ALIGNMENTS.

MBTI: ESFP-A / THE ENTERTAINER

If anyone is to be found spontaneously breaking into song and dance, it is the Entertainer personality type. Entertainers get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too. No other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as Entertainers when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style.

Entertainers love the spotlight, and all the world’s a stage. Many famous people with the Entertainer personality type are indeed actors, but they love putting on a show for their friends too, chatting with a unique and earthy wit, soaking up attention and making every outing feel a bit like a party.

ENNEAGRAM: TYPE 8 / THE CHALLENGER

Eights are defined by their desire to be powerful and to avoid any vulnerability. They present a confident, assertive, and decisive image to others. Eights can be argumentative and intimidating; it is important to them to stand up for what they believe in and to protect those who are weaker than themselves.

Goal-oriented and self-competent, Challengers trail blaze boldly through all walks of life and take great pride in their independence and sharp minds. Strong advocates for others, Eights are concerned with justice, combating oppression, and protecting the weak. This type is not shy when it comes to taking the lead and making tough decisions. They have no fear of conflict and they are not always concerned with limits or boundaries. They typically take charge during group projects or meetings and find themselves at ease in leadership positions.

ZODIAC: LEO

People born under the sign of Leo are natural born leaders. They are dramatic, creative, self-confident, dominant and extremely difficult to resist, able to achieve anything they want to in any area of life they commit to. There is a specific strength to a Leo and their "king of the jungle" status. Self-confident and attractive, this is a Sun sign capable of uniting different groups of people and leading them as one towards a shared cause, and their healthy sense of humor makes collaboration with other people even easier.

Leo belongs to the element of Fire; this makes them warmhearted, in love with life, trying to laugh and have a good time. Able to use their mind to solve even the most difficult problems, they will easily take initiative in resolving various complicated situations.

TEMPERAMENT: CHOLERIC

People with a choleric temperament are typically characterized as being decisive, focused, and goal-oriented. These individuals tend to be highly practical, rational, and logical, often thriving in environments where systematic strategies and problem-solving abilities are required. They excel at seeing the bigger picture and setting long-term objectives, often making them excellent strategic planners.

However, their high degree of ambition and determination can sometimes be perceived as aggressive or overbearing. They are often seen as domineering, and they may struggle with interpersonal relationships due to their strong will and desire for control. Their fast-paced nature and demand for high standards can lead them to be impatient and easily frustrated with others who do not share their sense of urgency or level of commitment.

CHARACTER COLOUR: GREY / BLACK

You are intense, cool, pragmatic, and incredibly streetwise. You follow your convictions through and are great in a crisis. You are able to get what you want and protect others easily. Just remember that letting your emotions take control doesn't make you weak, it only increases what you can do.

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-fly-buzzed-when/

A Fly Buzzed When...

The fly sitting in the staircase window of my retirement center has been dead for several months.  Unlike me, most folks don’t use the back exit to reach ground level.  They prefer the elevator.  I may be the only person in the building to bear witness to the insect’s slow decay.  I could remove it with a tissue, of course.  But I’m curious to know how long the corpse will remain unnoticed in its sunny location. At peace now, I can imagine an earlier, frenzied time when, without success, the fly buzzed against the glass as it struggled to reach the green world outside.   Flies have a symbolic role in my upcoming memoir, Getting Lost to Find Home. Like the character in one of Emily Dickinson’s poems, I, too, heard a fly buzz at the moment I imagined I was about to die. The sound jarred an awakening within me, the way a glacier dropping snow into an icy bay might stun the ears.  The insect I realized at that moment was my superior. Had I its translucent wings, I could have hoped to escape my fate. Many years have passed but the memory of that fly has never faded. It allowed me to feel empathy for the one that had buzzed itself to death on the windowsill.  This time its wings were of no use. What it required was the ability to reason. “Each to each,” I think every time I pass its still form on the ledge.  Once a defiant point of light against the dark, it has succumbed to it, as must all living things. The reminder earns my respect.  And so, I pause a moment in tribute to the fly each time I make my turn on the landing.  A study on fruitflies confirms that insects are conscious of death. Most creatures are.  Elephants grieve for their lost ones. Crows hold funerals. Alternatively, bees, ants, and terminates designate a specific class among them to clear away corpses from the hive.  When fruitflies encounter death, they have two responses. They die earlier than their peers and the females produce a larger number of eggs under the stress.   Stress, we’ve learned,  leaves a marker in the human brain. Some think the scar may predict a tendency for suicide.  Others insist they require more evidence to confirm the link. Even so, physicians are aware of the debilitating effects of stress and counsel their patients to avoid it.  We already know that what we see, feel, and do alters our relationship with the world.  Think of it as the butterfly effect where a small change in one location alters a larger one. A man dumps used tires into a pristine river.  Others follow his example.  Eventually, the river’s water is too polluted for either human or animal consumption. Flora and fauna die. The green world morphs into a desert. We know our brains generate myriads of impulses. Some are self-destructive. Others work to our benefit. The good or ill in our lives arises from those impulses. It’s doubtful a lily can grow from a dung heap. Those who see justice and vengeance as hospitable companions are the most likely to give way to hate.  House Representatives Marjorie Taylor Green and Lauren Boebart are examples.  They see corruption in the fall of a sparrow.  Without trust, how is society to endure? Without trust, hate gives way to insanity–the kind that prompted an individual to salt a garden ripe with vegetables that were intended to feed the poor.   Wanting to do good is a force equal to hate but with positive benefits. Good thoughts increase trust and promote good health.  Both are necessary for a thriving democracy. Because consciousness must succumb to death, each of us faces an overwhelming question. How shall we live? Decisions we make, whether large or small, have outcomes.  They affect our well-being.  They affect our society and our planet. A fly dies on a windowsill, its eyes facing a green world.  Too ignorant to understand the nature of the invisible barrier that stands between it and freedom, it dies in frustration. Humans, too, live in silos of ignorance.  They can respond by being angry, judgmental, and prizing freedom for themselves but not for others. If so, then like the fly, they will never know peace. Or, being human, they can exercise a second option. They can see themselves mirrored in all living things and exercise compassion. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————–   Listen to 1 hour radio interview with Caroline Miller on “Between the Covers.”  

[plotsforsaleinmysore]

What should buyers look for when selecting a residential plot in Mysore?

What Should Buyers Look for When Selecting a Residential Plots in Mysore?

Residential Plots in Mysore Buying a residential plot requires a lot of funding, and selecting the right one can be complex. Mysore mentioned that its cultural-historical beyond, serene environment, and growing infrastructure give several opportunities for real property funding. Whether you seek to construct your dream home or spend money on belongings for future returns, it’s crucial to remember numerous factors to make an informed choice. Here’s a guide on what customers should search for while deciding on a residential plots in Mysore.

Location and Connectivity

Proximity to Key Amenities:

Ensure the residential plots in Mysore is near critical services like faculties, hospitals, markets, and public transportation.

Areas like Vijayanagar, Hebbal, and Saraswathipuram are identified for their properly-advanced infrastructure and smooth access to amenities.

Connectivity:

Good road connectivity to maximum crucial elements of the city and nearby highways is critical.

Consider residential plots in Mysore near upcoming infrastructure obligations or new avenue trends for higher destiny connectivity.

Legal Clearances and Documentation

Title Deed:

Verify that the perceived deed is plain and the vendor has crook rights to sell the property.

Check for any present-day liens or encumbrances on the belongings.

Approvals:

Ensure the residential plots in Mysore  has critical approvals from the Mysore Urban Development Authority (MUDA) or the relevant neighbourhood frame Residential plots.

Look for an internet site plan accepted with the resources of the community government to confirm that the residential plots in Mysore is part of an authorized layout.

Zoning Regulations:

Understand the place’s zoning regulations to ensure that residential advent is authorized.

Check for any rules or precise tips for production within the vicinity.

Plot Size and Shape

Size:

Choose a plot length that suits your necessities and fee variety. Common sizes range from 1200 sq. Ft. To 2400 sq. Toes.

Ensure the plot duration is enough forfor your deliberate manufacturing and destiny increase property.

Shape:

Preferably, opt for rectangular or rectangular plots as they are less difficult to develop and maximize area usage.

Only regularly customary residential plots in Mysore as they’ll complicate production and layout.

Soil Quality and Topography

Soil Quality:

Conduct a soil review to decide if the soil is fantastic and suitable for manufacturing.

Ensure the soil has actual load-bearing functionality to manually the muse of your future home.

Topography:

Check the plot’s topography to ensure it’s far level and doesn’t have excessive slopes.

Avoid plots prone to waterlogging or positioned in low-lying regions.

Infrastructure and Utilities

Water Supply:

Ensure the delivery of dependable water, both through municipal assets or borewells.

Check the water table stage inside the region to avoid issues during the dry season.

Electricity:

Confirm the supply of strength and the proximity of electrical connections to the plot.

Check for uninterrupted energy delivery and proximity to transformers.

Sewage and Drainage:

Ensure the location has the right sewage and drainage gadgets to avoid troubles at some point of rain.

Check if the plot is set up to the municipal sewage system or if it calls for a septic tank.

Neighbourhood and Environment

Safety and Security:

Research the protection of the network and look for the presence of protection offerings or police stations close by.

Look for gated corporations or plots with protection abilities for delivered safety.

Noise and Pollution Levels:

Choose a plot far from business areas or busy roads to avoid noise and pollution.

Consider the top-notch air greenery in the surrounding area for a more wholesome environment.

Community and Development:

Investigate the improvement recognition of the community and future boom opportunities.

Look for mounted or upcoming residential organizations that promise a fantastic preference for residing.

Future Growth Potential

Appreciation Rate:

Research the historic appreciation prices of plots within the location to gauge destiny potential.

Consider plots in growing regions or near upcoming infrastructure projects for higher returns on funding.

Development Plans:

Check for any proposed government or personal improvement plans in the location.

Look for regions with planned commercial enterprise, educational, or leisure duties that could decorate property costs.

Budget and Financing

Cost:

Compare the fees of plots in extremely good localities to find one that fits your rate variety.

Consider extra expenses, including registration costs, stamp duty, and improvement fees.

Financing Options:

Explore financing options to be had for buying residential plots, which include home loans or plot loans.

Check the hobby fees, loan tenure, and eligibility requirements furnished with the aid of several banks.

Conclusion

Selecting the proper residential plot in Mysore requires cautious attention to more than one factor. From vicinity and prison clearances to soil high-quality and destiny increase functionality, every factor is vital in ensuring your investment is sound and yields tremendous returns. By thoroughly studying and comparing these factors, you may make an informed decision and establish a plot that meets your desires and expectations. Investing in a well-chosen plot in Mysore now not only offers the possibility to construct your dream home but also guarantees capability appreciation in value, making it a realistic long-term period of funding.

For More Information Visit, Residential Plots in Mysore 

[technologicallytailored]

May 14th

LOMAX County Fields

I would apologize, but I have grown to realize this blog is more of a public diary than any sort of media intended to be social. This is more of an external data log, which could be quite useful in the future. Given my history, if a hard reset is required, and I could be convinced to peruse this app to thumb through my past thoughts and musings, then it would be considered additionally beneficial to a speedy recovery. That is, on the assumption, I would be compliant enough to believe whoever is showing me this blog. "This is you," the hell it could be! Does anyone out there understand the true vastness of every reiteration the OG soul for my one player character has fractured off into essentially the world's worst reach around? I feel like given the opportunity, whoever was Dirk Prime, should host a convention and charge himself to have to spend the afternoon entertaining all the splintered atoms on the same selection of interests they all seem to share. Which is, essentially, existential dread and horses. It does not get any better than that!

Not to be a pick me bot, but I enjoy the stars and bugs. Call me a dreamer, if I could dream.

Jade confirmed with me that merging the bubbles with a planet is not only possible but safe for the bubble. In a way it provides a symbiotic relationship between the bubble and the planet. The atmosphere thickens, which will provide an added layer to the ozone layer. This will increase the amount of oxygen retained within the planet's atmosphere (competitive with the Carboniferous period where oxygen levels rose to 35%), causing a mass case of gigantism in organic lifeforms. I like big bugs, and I cannot lie.

The next step in the experimental phase is to confirm the safety of those living within the bubble's realm. There will be plants, bugs, small animals, and large animals that will be held on a small planet encased by the bubble. There, it will be possible to monitor any possible heath risks.

I am optimistic.

I think this will be a success run.

We are so close..

[broadassist]

Employee Retention Mastery: Strategies by Board Assist

Are you losing sleep over the revolving door of talent in your organization? Don’t worry, you're not alone! The unsettling question of "Why aren't our employees staying longer?" has become a recurring concern in your managerial musings. Employee retention has emerged as a critical challenge for businesses across industries as the workforce landscape evolves. The constant recruitment and onboarding of new faces strain resources and hinder the development of a cohesive, high-performing team. Let’s delve into the art and science of employee retention mastery and decode the secrets of cultivating enduring loyalty and commitment within your organizational ranks.

The Significance of Employee Retention: A Strategic Imperative for Organizational Success

In today's dynamic workplace, mastering employee retention has become paramount for organizations striving to secure top talent and ensure long-term success. In the modern business landscape, employee retention emerges not only as a key performance metric but as a strategic imperative essential for the sustained success of organizations.

Various businesses, such as Google, Microsoft and BoardAssist.com, are at the forefront of strategising employee retention. Today's businesses specialise in providing guidance and solutions to organizations looking to bolster their retention efforts. These entities understand that retaining talent goes beyond traditional methods and requires a holistic approach. From tailored training programs to personalised development plans, such organizations contribute to the arsenal of tools to enhance employee loyalty.

Let’s understand why employee retention is imperative, shedding light on its impact on cost-effective management, heightened employee engagement, and much more.

1. Cost-Effective Management

Employee turnover initiates a costly recruitment cycle involving expenses such as advertising, screening, interviewing, and onboarding new hires. Retaining existing staff is a more financially prudent approach. By investing in the development and satisfaction of current employees, organizations can alleviate the financial strains of continuous turnover.

2. Elevated Employee Engagement

Employee retention is intrinsically linked to maintaining heightened levels of employee engagement. The departure of employees and subsequent recruitment often results in an increased workload for the remaining staff, leading to diminished morale and motivation. Retaining valuable employees contributes to a more stable and engaged workforce, where individuals remain committed to their roles and responsibilities.

3. Retention of Experienced Personnel

Long-term retention yields a pool of loyal employees with significant organizational experience. Over time, employees assimilate the company's culture, ethics, and values. This accumulated experience translates into a skilled and capable workforce, augmenting overall productivity. The institutional knowledge amassed over the years becomes an invaluable asset for tackling challenges and driving innovation.

4. Positive Impact on Customer Relations

In roles where employees directly interact with customers, retention plays a pivotal role in shaping customer relations. Long-term employees often develop strong customer relationships, serving as crucial contact points. This continuity in customer interactions fosters trust and rapport. Conversely, frequent turnover can disrupt these relationships, necessitating time for new hires to establish a similar level of connection with the customer base.

5. Cultivation of Positive Corporate Culture

Corporate culture, shaped by a company's preferences, perceptions, and behaviours, is significantly influenced by employee retention. It plays a central role in fostering a positive and cohesive corporate culture. As employees stay and contribute to the organization's ethos, a more wholesome and positive culture emerges. This, in turn, enhances the business's brand value and is a magnet for attracting skilled and dedicated talent.

Understanding the catalysts behind employee turnover is the first step in crafting practical retention approaches.  So, now, let's delve into Employee Retention Strategies.

Crafting a Holistic Approach to Employee Retention

Here are some employee retention strategies that can empower organizations with actionable strategies that address pain points and cultivate a thriving workplace culture.

1. Onboarding and Orientation

A positive onboarding experience is pivotal for long-term employee satisfaction. A business should emphasise that onboarding goes beyond introducing new hires to their roles – immersing them in the company culture. A well-structured onboarding process establishes the foundation for an employee's tenure, whether in person or virtual.

2. Mentorship Programs

Supplementing onboarding with mentorship programs aids employee integration, especially in remote work scenarios. Mentors are crucial in welcoming newcomers, offering guidance, and serving as a sounding board. This approach extends beyond new hires, benefiting existing staff and enhancing employee retention.

3. Employee Compensation

Ensuring competitive compensation is a cornerstone of successful retention. Regular evaluations of salary structures demonstrate a commitment to recognising and rewarding employees appropriately. While immediate salary increases might not always be feasible, alternative forms of compensation, such as bonuses, enhance job satisfaction.

4. Perks

In the pursuit of talent retention, offering standout perks is essential. Flexible schedules and remote work options emerge as crucial perks in the current job market. Great perks help attract new talent and re-engage existing staff, ultimately increasing employee morale.

5. Wellness Offerings

Employee well-being is paramount for job satisfaction and retention. Expanding and enhancing wellness programs, especially after the pandemic, demonstrates a commitment to supporting employees in their physical, mental, and financial well-being. Stress management initiatives, retirement planning services, and fitness reimbursements are valuable components of a holistic wellness strategy.

6. Communication

The shift to hybrid and remote work models accentuates the importance of effective communication. Establishing an environment where employees feel comfortable sharing ideas, questions, and concerns fosters a culture of openness and support. Healthy and timely communication between the organization and its employees is crucial. Regular check-ins, whether virtual or in person, contribute to building a solid and supportive work culture.

7. Continuous Feedback on Performance

Traditional annual performance reviews make way for more frequent and constructive feedback sessions. Discussing short- and long-term professional goals, providing constructive feedback, and collaborating on realistic career advancement plans contribute to employee satisfaction and commitment.

8. Training and Development

Investing in employee training and development is integral to their sense of worth within the organization. This strategy aligns with the modern workforce's desire for continuous growth. Supporting employees in upskilling, attending virtual conferences, and offering tuition reimbursement fosters an environment of professional development and contributes to retention.

9. Recognition and Rewards Systems

Acknowledging and appreciating employees for their contributions is a fundamental aspect of retention. Whether through formal reward systems or informal recognition programs, expressing gratitude enhances engagement and builds a positive workplace culture. There should be valuable resources and tools for implementing effective recognition programs tailored to your organization's unique needs.

10. Work-Life Balance

Promoting a healthy work-life balance is essential for employee satisfaction. Encouraging employees to set boundaries, take vacation time, and maintain realistic expectations contributes to a positive work environment.

11. Flexible Work Arrangements

Post-pandemic, the demand for flexibility in work arrangements has surged. Forbes highlights that over half of employees globally would leave their jobs without flexibility. Offering options like remote work, flextime, or compressed workweeks contributes significantly to employee retention.

12. Effective Change Management

Change is inevitable, and how organizations navigate it impacts employee satisfaction. Clear communication during change helps alleviate anxieties and fosters a sense of stability among employees.

13. Emphasis on Teamwork

Encouraging collaboration and creating opportunities for all employees to contribute ideas strengthens teamwork. Accommodating diverse work styles and empowering employees to make decisions fosters a positive team dynamic.

14. Acknowledgment of Milestones

Celebrating both small and significant achievements contributes to a positive work culture. Whether virtually or in person, marking milestones creates meaningful moments and reinforces employees' sense of value and belonging.

Conclusion

In conclusion, mastering employee retention is a strategic imperative for organizational success in today's dynamic workplace. The profound impact on cost-effective management, elevated employee engagement, retention of experienced personnel, positive customer relations, and cultivating a positive corporate culture cannot be overstated. Organizations can navigate the evolving landscape by incorporating comprehensive strategies, ensuring long-term talent loyalty. From holistic onboarding to innovative mentorship and competitive compensation, these strategies empower organizations to foster a thriving workplace culture and secure top talent in the competitive market.

[congradulations]

jobs

Finding a job sucks. We know this. We have known this for a long time. But I feel like it’s especially dreadful these days. 

Every generation makes claims about their specific and unique struggles. Everyone, struggling so uniquely. Generations always insist they have it worse than the last in some way. 

The way I have set up this phenomenon just now might suggest that I am going to argue against it in some way, because it is annoying. But nay nay. It is annoying, yet so am I. Thus, I will contribute. I am going to make the argument that one of Gen Z’s specific struggles is and will continue to be FINDING JOBS! :)  

In some ways, Millenials and Gen Z share this struggle. Yes, there have been massive improvements in the diversification of the hiring pool. One of my qualms is that we can’t really just call up a company and ask for an interview, which is the strategy recommended by all the old people in our lives. Instead, the employment process has moved online almost entirely. While this shift makes it easier to find job applications, it makes it harder to actually get a job. I’ve seen LinkedIn job posts receive over 200 applicants within an hour of being posted. The most popular job site is rendered useless to me for this reason. The internet is also packed with inactive or expired job posts that provide no indication of being either, so we waste even more time.

Another point of commiseration is that members of both generations have entered and are entering the job market during periods of significant economic decline. Namely, two recessions. (I know nothing about the economy, but that won’t stop me from talking about it.) Also, we are more educated and qualified than previous generations, which means that standards for getting hired are more strict, and sometimes, impossible for many potential applicants. For example, most job openings advertised as “entry-level” require at least two years of professional experience. There just aren’t enough jobs for us.

AI is a technological entity of concern in the Millenial and Gen Z quest to find jobs. We’ve all heard about it. This zesty hot topic. ChatGPT is going to replace us, especially those of us with wordier skillsets. Humanists will be knocked down a peg further on the rung of hire-ability. STEM, in all its glory, will squash us. But here is where Millenials have a leg up on Gen Z. Many millenials will have already attained a high enough level of seniority to ensure job security by the time AI really starts taking over the world. Even if they get laid off, they can find positions that require experienced professionals elsewhere. I predict that the more menial, entry-level types of jobs historically meant for younger professionals will be the ones overtaken by AI, making the task of finding a decent paying entry-level job all the more difficult. And annoying and awful and exasperating. While my musings might be dystopian, they might also be possible. 

I’ve certainly begun to feel the stressful effects of whatever is happening in the career ecosystem. I cannot overstate the severity of my anxiety over finding a job just a couple of months ago. While my mental health baseline is not necessarily stable, my job search anxiety was at another level. It was kind of derailing my life, the impossibility of it all. These feelings were only quelled by an increased anxiety medicine prescription and the hope of my family connections paying off for once (more on that next week). Other job hunters are experiencing this difficulty, too:  

I have no solutions. Just complaints. So basically, I’m here to complain. I’m complaining. It’s what I do best. 

Thank you. The end.