#ni employer wants something like this

[diviwire]

Ghhrhethaaya

[mariana-oconnor]

The Devil's Foot pt 2

I have been contemplating this one a bit. And so far the only person who has given us any information about this is Mortimer. We only have his word what happened that night. We only have his word that he and his siblings had resolved their financial differences. He was still living in lodgings when they had the family property, it seems.

And it seems like it was all his friend's idea to get Holmes involved.

So maybe I should be more suspicious of him.

But he did agree to come to Holmes, although it would be really difficult to say no at that point.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts, I remember, that he stumbled over the watering-pot, upset its contents, and deluged both our feet and the garden path.

Was this deliberate, or is it just flavour text? I'm not sure what he could get from spilling the watering can. Unless he thinks the water is poisoned and he wants to see what effect the spilled water has on the plants around it. Like, if they die, definitely poison.

Good thing the guy from the last story isn't around to start kissing floors and licking boots again.

Her employers had all been in excellent spirits lately, and she had never known them more cheerful and prosperous.

This absolutely sounds like them being lulled into a false sense of security. Or a reason for jealousy.

She had, when she recovered, thrown open the window to let the morning air in.

So if the poison was airborne, she would have dissipated it, then.

(It's in the candles)

Fish candles, the Discworld fan in me wants to say.

“I think, Watson, that I shall resume that course of tobacco-poisoning which you have so often and so justly condemned,” said he.

The repeated and consistent acknowledgement in these stories that smoking is bad for you kind of blows my mind every time. Even though I know.

“Let us get a firm grip of the very little which we do know, so that when fresh facts arise we may be ready to fit them into their places. I take it, in the first place, that neither of us is prepared to admit diabolical intrusions into the affairs of men."

What, no devils or demons? And I was getting my hopes up.

"That is firm ground. Now, when did this occur? Evidently, assuming his narrative to be true, it was immediately after Mr. Mortimer Tregennis had left the room."

This does rather contradict my idea of a slow-acting aerosolised poison released by the burning of the candles, certainly. Because Mortimer was in there for at least some of the evening, so you'd expect him to have had some kind of a dose, or he would have had to swap out the candles before he left and then the new poison candles would have to act very quickly.

It's more likely to not be in the candles, then. I guess.

Something only the other three imbibed or ate or touched. But even then how does it work so quickly. Maybe he pours them something to drink as a toast before he goes and laces it with something (or someone else comes and does that).

"Knowing my methods as you do, you were, of course, conscious of the somewhat clumsy water-pot expedient by which I obtained a clearer impress of his foot than might otherwise have been possible."

Ah, okay. That makes sense. No poison water.

"It is difficult to imagine, then, how an outsider could have made so terrible an impression upon the company, nor have we found any possible motive for so strange and elaborate an attempt."

Glass notoriously reflects things. How sure are you that the thing he was seeing was outside?

Perhaps the face is coming from inside the house. Or perhaps there was no face and his brother just thought of something unpleasant and then tried to cover it up.

Or perhaps this is all a mere fabrication of Mortimer's to throw people off the scent.

"Neither of us needed to be told who that visitor was. The huge body, the craggy and deeply seamed face with the fierce eyes and hawk-like nose, the grizzled hair which nearly brushed our cottage ceiling, the beard—golden at the fringes and white near the lips, save for the nicotine stain from his perpetual cigar—all these were as well known in London as in Africa, and could only be associated with the tremendous personality of Dr. Leon Sterndale, the great lion-hunter and explorer."

Whomst?

"My only claim to being taken into your confidence is that during my many residences here I have come to know this family of Tregennis very well—indeed, upon my Cornish mother's side I could call them cousins—and their strange fate has naturally been a great shock to me."

A suspect? A new suspect?

So Holmes naturally interrogates him to find out if he was in the area at the time and how he knows about any of this.

The vicar really likes to talk, it seems. Although I suppose passing on news of the death of a relative and the sudden illness? of two others might be considered reasonable.

“He is deeply interested.”

Who inherits the property now? Lion man or Mortimer?

Follow the money. If in doubt always follow the money.

"Cheer up, Watson, for I am very sure that our material has not yet all come to hand. When it does we may soon leave our difficulties behind us.” Little did I think how soon the words of Holmes would be realized, or how strange and sinister would be that new development which opened up an entirely fresh line of investigation.

So someone else is dead then. But who? Mortimer? Lion man? The Babbling Vicar? The housekeeper?

Not the vicar, clearly as he is doing his narrative duty of gossip by bringing the news.

“Mr. Mortimer Tregennis died during the night, and with exactly the same symptoms as the rest of his family.”

Alas, poor Mortimer, I'm sorry I suspected you.

My guess is that Lion man left poison candles/cards/brandy around when he visited them so he could be far away when they died and have an alibi, but he wasn't expecting to have to get Mortmer separately. (Maybe Mortimer wasn't drinking? Or maybe he just left before the effects could set in).

This might partly be due to the fact that a lamp stood flaring and smoking on the centre table.

Look, Watson keeps drawing attention to the light sources in these places. I'm not going crazy. It's in the candles and the oil lamp.

In the bedroom he made a rapid cast around and ended by throwing open the window...

And people keep opening windows. Airborne poison.

Then he rushed down the stair, out through the open window, threw himself upon his face on the lawn...

Every detective needs their allotted floor time. It is imperative.

He had bought a lamp which was the duplicate of the one which had burned in the room of Mortimer Tregennis on the morning of the tragedy.

I leave this here without further comment.

"In each case there is evidence of a poisonous atmosphere. In each case, also, there is combustion going on in the room—in the one case a fire, in the other a lamp."

I'll be over here thanking Sir Terry Pratchett for (I assume) using this as his inspiration. GNU.

"The result seems to indicate that it was so, since in the first case only the woman, who had presumably the more sensitive organism, was killed, the others exhibiting that temporary or permanent lunacy which is evidently the first effect of the drug."

✨Sensitive organism✨

...

If by that you mean she probably had a lower body mass, as women do tend to on average, and therefore the threshold for a lethal dosage was also lower? Then sure, I guess.

Sensitive organism.

Sensitive organism

Oh, I can't do my work today, I'm a sensitive organism.

And fine, it was the fire, not the candles. I was a little off on the method.

"Now, Watson, we will light our lamp; we will, however, take the precaution to open our window to avoid the premature decease of two deserving members of society, and you will seat yourself near that open window in an armchair unless, like a sensible man, you determine to have nothing to do with the affair."

Glad to have absolute acknowledgment here that Watson is Not a sensible man. We already knew this. But it's nice to have it canonised.

This can only go well. I foresee no bad effects.

Isn't Holmes out there for his health?

It was that vision which gave me an instant of sanity and of strength.

Pulled back from the edge of death by the fact that Holmes is also dying.

"Upon my word, Watson!" said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, "I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one's self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry."

Got to be bad if even Holmes is admitting it was a dumb idea and apologising for it.

But yeah, be sorry. Although I've got to say, guy fully consented to this circus.

"You know," I answered with some emotion, for I have never seen so much of Holmes's heart before, "that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you."

Such drama. Such emotion.

I mean... it's undercut a little by the fact that they only needed the drama and the emotion because they were absolute idiots.

You acknowledged yourself that it must be fast-acting Holmes, both because the first people were still sitting exactly where Mortimer left them and yet he was fine and had noticed nothing wrong, and also because of how little oil had been used in the lamp at the second crime scene.

And you didn't even just use a bit of the scrapings, you used them all... Sure you left the door and window open, but... my guy. My guy. If you had died today it would not have been undeserved. For a smart person, you can be unbearably foolish

But still, very moving. I understand why people were really excited about this one. Much shipping.

[wild-at-mind]

I’ve been thinking about the reason I feel so weird about people on tumblr who aren’t living in the UK making jokes about how great it would be if the UK split up and abandoned England (where I live) and made the great Celtic aliance and whatnot....like, I acknowledge I really have no good social justice approved reasons for feeling weird about this. I’m English in England and I do understand the long history of England oppressing and colonising all the other nations. This isn’t in question. I’m sure it would be better for all the other nations if they left England, and if there was a way it could be done very easily and quickly for everyone, then I’d say do it in a heartbeat. It feels really daft of me to be like thinking about actual logistics because of a fucking joke post which no one really needs, but I always do for some reason and it’s just so stressful to think about. The UK is fucking falling apart right now, it can’t manage anything. Our last Prime Minister lasted 49 days. No one has been elected as PM for like a decade, they all just take over from the last failure in this fucking endless conservative government. It feels never ending. I feel like it was also really easy for people outside the UK to judge Brexit as a terrible idea, but from the inside it was never that simple. It was a really bad idea for sure, and it caused this massive influx of xenophobia, but while it was going on it was all so complicated and there was so much shit on both sides. You would think it would be easy to say like ‘I don’t want to be on the side of xenophobia so I’m anti-Brexit’, but then you would get accused of being in an ivory tower and not affected by the employment issues concerned caused by EU workers or w/e. Someone would write a thinkpiece calling you classist or something, using the exact same emotive language people deploy all the time on here for their good causes. It’s not so easy to be like ‘ok this is good emotive language making me think the right thing, and this is bad emotive language making me think the wrong thing’. In reality, of course, it was never a case of just working class people wanting Brexit and just middle class people wanting remain, that was more fucking propaganda and it was sooooo much more complicated than that. I hope this is starting to get across the problem a bit. A few people were even arguing that Brexit was good because more workers of colour could come into the country if we stopped having so many white EU workers so Brexit could actually be anti-racist. (As if the current government would willingly do anything like that...lol.) What I’m trying to say is it split the country in so many ways, it was a really ugly time. I have heard similar things from people living in Scotland about the last push for Scottish Independance. Whether you were pro or anti, it got ugly and caused massive painful rifts. Now, i do think at some point Scotland will gain independance and I will cheer them on. But it won’t be an easy split, because they never are. The other thing I think gets glossed over is that we aren’t a very big country, of course there’s a lot of movement, many people in England have very recent roots in Scotland, Wales and/or NI. When you make it more distant roots, then it’s a vast percentage. And it’s worth noting that identifying as English specifically, if you live in England, has some connotations of racism and xenophobia against immigrants. (England for the English, that kind of fucked up thing.) People who do not want those connotations who live in England will tend to use the term British to self describe. I don’t know what it means to be ‘English’, specifically, without racism coming into the frame pretty quickly. I think that’s why these posts also read a bit as if annexing England will free the other nations from racism, whether or not that was the intention.

[mbti-notes]

I am an ESTP and I want to know whether it is possible/healthy to eschew certain societal values that don't match my own. For example, I don't value or care to dress up or wear makeup, I like a clean simple look that is low fuss/effort. However, I see others put more effort into their appearance and be rewarded for this, and this makes me want to do so as well, even though deep down I really don't care. I also find I respect myself less for giving in to societal pressures at the expense of myown

How old are you? It is normal for people in adolescence and young adulthood to struggle with issues of personal identity. Specifically, it is not always easy to find the right balance between staying true to oneself and meeting the expectations of others. Some people get trapped in either/or thinking that easily becomes too extreme.

ESTPs who only care about what they want and never think about what larger negative effect they're producing are unhealthy ESTPs, misusing their judging functions in service of a shallow, lazy, or careless Se approach to life. If you truly care about yourself and hope to feel some pride in who you are, you wouldn't want to be a negative version of yourself, and you wouldn't want to present a negative image of yourself to the world.

Ideally, ESTPs should use their powers of reason to establish the right balance between self and others, which is related to proper Ti and Fe development. In order for ESTPs to genuinely "care" about doing something, they have to understand the reasoning behind it and agree with it - this is how one arrives at better Ti-Fe balance. Sometimes, when a situation is complex, you might have to take extra steps to truly understand it. You would have to consider all the different factors and all the different ways of looking at the situation - this requires Ni big-picture visualization powers.

Taking your example of dress: On one hand, as an individual, you ought to be free to choose your own style and wear what is in accordance with your comfort, beliefs, and values. On the other hand, you are a participant in relationships with others and what you do has a larger effect, even when you don't realize it. The way you dress projects an image and that image influences how people evaluate and relate to you. Of course, how people evaluate you matters much more in some situations than others, so it's not just "to care or not to care", as though the complexity of life can be distilled into one rule. Remember: Ti values the process of coming to a rational judgment, which requires deliberation and some nuance. To develop mature use of Ti requires you to use your reasoning skills more carefully to determine the best judgment based on the situation at hand.

Imagine going to an office job interview in a swimsuit. Imagine what society would look and feel like if everyone wandered around in their pajamas all day. There is a social element of dress because the way you present yourself contributes to the overall vibe of a social environment. The vibe is real because it has a very tangible effect on how people think, feel, and behave. People dress professionally at the office because employers want to encourage professional behavior, employees want to maximize their chances of making a good impression, and clients/customers want to be assured of professional conduct. People dress casually at the neighborhood restaurant because they want everyone to feel at ease and enjoy themselves. People dress in dark shades at a funeral in order to express their sadness/grief on a somber occasion. People dress up for their dates to show that they care enough to make an effort for love.

While dress is largely a personal choice, if you understand that there is an element of dress that extends beyond you and impacts others, then a reasonable person would try to find the appropriate middle ground, wouldn't they?

To reconcile self with others isn't about "me vs them" (oversimplistic either/or thinking). It's about choosing the most constructive ways of being yourself (maximizing the benefits).

[thessalian]

Thess vs Chores

Things I have had to deal with, or am continuing to deal with, today:

Sinus headache (ongoing)

Upstairs neighbour doing very loud DIY (ongoing, and without so much as a “sorry for the inconvenience” note shoved under my door)

Conversation with my stepfather about financial bits (finished)

Yeah, if I’d known that today was when my upstairs neighbour was going to be hammering and drilling in the afternoon, I might not have picked today for the “Let’s see what we can do about getting your National Insurance contributions up to date” chat with my stepfather. Still, that chat went well.

Oh, I should explain ‘that chat’ for the non-UK people. See, we’ve got a state pension here, paid out by virtue of National Insurance contributions. This comes out of your paycheques automatically, which is why your employer needs your National Insurance number when they’re paying you. Thing is, there’s a certain threshold for NI contributions, and there were several years in there where my contributions did not reach the required threshold for a full NI contribution for the year because I was working as a temp ... or rather, because I was registered as a temp but not actually working because no assignments, but also not claiming Universal Credit (or whatever the benefits were at the time) because I was still holding out hope that that week was the week I’d get an assignment. Now that I am in a stable job, they want to fill some of those gaps in my NI contributions so that I can claim a full state pension when I retire. ...I mean, that’s assuming that state pensions are still accessible by the time it comes to my retirement age, and that the age at which one can claim one’s state pension doesn’t go up so high that I die before I’m eligible for it, but let’s be optimistic. Thing is, it’s a process, apparently, and is going to involve me calling HM Revenue and Customs to set it up before we can even aim for online payment. I don’t get it either, but it’s something I can look at tomorrow. Mostly because ... holy shit, I am not ringing the tax office with that much drilling and hammering going on upstairs.

Also I fed my stepfather some of my homemade instant hot chocolate and he liked it very much. Apparently this was also very well-timed because my mother was looking for powdered milk and apparently assumed it didn’t exist because she couldn’t find it in the tiny supermarket nearest to their place. I demonstrated the existence of dried milk with the fixings for my next batch of homemade instant hot chocolate, so he’s going home with that lovely bit of information. He was also quite happy to take some of the mint chocolate fudge I foisted on him - I mean, like hell was I going to eat it all on my own.

I did other chores today too. Mostly involving breaking down one very large box for the recycling, and taking out the garbage. Still, that’s a bit of a feat for me given that lugging that stuff down the stairs, outside, and out to the little shed where our dumpsters are is problematic at best. After all, when the load is awkward, I can’t use my cane. Leaves me with a bit of ow. And I get to compound that with sinus ow and “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLEASE STOP THE NOISE” ow.

So for now, quick break, MOAR HOT CHOCOLATE MIX (I still have some but I’ve been having big mugs of it because it’s gorgeous and a good thing to have as a hot drink before bed when I don’t want coffee because caffeine but don’t want my sleepytime herbal tea either, so I need more), trip to the corner shop, and then maybe more demos. Or just something Zen, I dunno; my head hurts.

[verumfm]

━◈ WANTED CONNECTIONS ... four new ones have been added to the page!

there are tales of how dante masoe is searching for their childhood frenemy/rival, which is antagonistic in nature. the records show that they are about 25-29 years old and their photographs look like chelsea islan, jung hoyeon, deniz can aktas, michael evans behling, jane de leon, moon gayoung, madeleine madden, ozge yagiz, bright vachirawit, yamazaki kento, yuki kato, dylan wang, quintessa swindell, jessie mei li, khadijha red thunder, maris racal, mimi keene, cha eunwoo, cody christian, justin chien, samantha logan, fc ultimately utp. help us find them, but make sure that you speak to karin at @kencanas on tumblr beforehand. this is their story so far: this muse would have grown up in cynefin along with dante. they probably share quite a few mutual friends too or were in the same circles growing up, but that’s the main reason why they (barely) tolerate each other. otherwise, they get quite competitive with each other and have always been that way, never really able to see eye to eye. whenever they’re alone, dante sees no need to sugarcoat the fact that they’re not exactly friendly with each other. why the two of them consider each other rivals is up for future discussion, but i would like the thinly veiled antagonism to be mutual.

there are tales of how dante & savina masoe is searching for their parents’ protege, which is up to player in nature. the records show that they are about 28-34 years old and their photographs look like daniel ezra, damson idris, hande ercel, oh sehun, apo nattawin, avan jogia, greta onieogou, bai lu, jaz sinclair, seo kang joon, kwon nara, kylie verzosa, alia bhatt, reina hardesty, kofi siriboe, lin yanjun, dev patel, lee junho, yang yang, zeng keni, fc ultimately utp. help us find them, but make sure that you speak to karin or liza at @kencanas or @svnblinds on tumblr (or via discord if you’re already a member) beforehand. this is their story so far: neither dante nor savina is very interested in taking over their parents’ textile business, something that has always been obvious on dante’s end and her best-kept secret on savina’s end. while this muse’s personality and their dynamic with the masoe siblings are largely up to player/discussion, one given thing about them is that they’re a key employee at the masoes’ small textile empire in the valley. they would be someone the masoe parents trust with their job and see a lot of potential in. should it come out that neither masoe siblings are continuing the family business, the burden of running it may just fall on this muse’s shoulders.

there are tales of how lintang aulia is searching for their elixirs teacher, which is platonic/transactional in nature. the records show that they are about 28+ years old and their photographs look like simone ashley, clark backo, fukushi sota, julie estelle, seo yeji, keith powers, lucien laviscount, melisa asli pamuk, adonis bosso, mike angelo, devery jacobs, ni ni, courtney eaton, jung hoyeon, medalion rahimi, mena massoud, himesh patel, may calamawy, woo dohwan, fc ultimately utp. help us find them, but make sure that you speak to karin at @kencanas on tumblr beforehand. this is their story so far: despite their lack of affinity in khemia, lintang is also stupidly stubborn about feeling like they need to learn it. elixirs, especially, is something that they strongly think would be incredibly useful. now that they’re stuck in cynefin and working in verum, lintang would seek out someone who they think would be able to unofficially mentor them in the art. i imagine that the relationship is at least a touch positive, but how close they are is up for discussion, especially because this muse is largely utp. the only two things i require are that they were trained in elixirs and that they are either a verum staff/professor or cynefin resident. this connection can be taken in tandem with lintang’s regular contact or part-time employer, too.

there are tales of how lintang aulia is searching for their part-time employer, which is professional in nature. the records show that they are about 35+ years old and their photographs look like arifin putra, martin sensmeier, lim jiyeon, rege-jean page, kuroki meisa, aishwarya rai, keanu reeves, mahersala ali, elodie yung, dichen lachman, riz ahmed, gong yoo, qin lan, raymond ablack, deepika padukone, iko uwais, oliver jackson-cohen, gina torres, sanada hiroyuki, fc ultimately utp. help us find them, but make sure that you speak to karin at @kencanas on tumblr beforehand. this is their story so far: while lintang mostly works at verum as an infirmary staff, she has a tendency of spreading herself too thin to keep herself occupied. so it’s no surprise that she’s taken to part-timing with a local doctor/healer/apothecary in town. everything about this muse is utp other than the fact that they must be a medic of some kind, as mentioned above. i imagine that lintang is determined to gain their respect and/or approval, but how the current relationship is can be discussed further. they just would have to be open enough to willingly let an outsider trapped in cynefin to currently work with them. this connection can also be taken in tandem with lintang’s elixirs teacher connection.

[simitra1321]

Please help me afford my meds and fix my teeth.

Hello!My name is Artimis, my pronouns are they/them, I'm blind, I have migraines, I'm queer and very, very tired. I'm currently studying to get several of my IT certifications so I can go into a career field I genuinely enjoy and love. However, it's hard to study and take my exams when all I want to do is sleep because I'm in so much pain so often. I'm making this GoFundMe to ask for help affording my migraine medications and fixing my teeth. Without my migraine medications I can count the number of pain free days each month on one hand. I've got one preventative treatment that my insurance does cover, but that's becoming less effective so my doctor has sent in a prescription for another preventative. They've also sent ni a prescription for the migraine treatment that works for me that I've been trying to get for almost 2 years now. There's a coupon I could use, but unfortunately I can't use it because I've got Medicaid and apparently the coupon doesn't apply to people on Medicaid which seems a bit backwards, but there you go. I also need to get help fixing my teeth. When I started getting this set up I thought fixing my teeth would only be $2,000 or so which I could cover with a little bit of help and by paying installments. I learned recently that it's going to be closer to $6,000 which I cannot afford without a lot of help even if I'm able to pay in installments especially because I've maxed out my dental insurance for the year so now have to pay full price. I do have Medicaid, but they don't cover all, or really most of my specialty medications, which is most of them. I've also got dental insurance through Medicaid, but no one in my city accepts it. Because of this I have to pay for insurance myself outside of Medicaid. I'm currently working part time while I'm in school. I'm not able to work full time and go to school, like that's something that isn't possible for me. That means, though, that I don't have insurance from my employer or even a enough of a salary to where I could afford larger payment installations. I've also got rent to pay, bills to pay, and insurance premiums to pay. I'd also like to be able to afford something small like a bar of soap that I'm not allergic to to make me feel like a real human person every so often, but that's seeming less and less realistic as things go on. I want to say thank you in advance if you donate. Even a little bit would help more than I can say. If you can't afford to donate I completely understand; take care of yourself first. But to those of you who want to and are able to donate I just want to say thank you. I hope all of you have the best day, night, morning, or evening.

$0/6,000

Link to GoFundMe

[tiesthatbind-tf]

I accidentally deleted 2000 words of story for poor Soundwave last night and had to rewrite everything but tbh, they’re absolutely worthit.  Their armor definitely makes me want to experiment with Celtic motifs for Hot Rod!

Full story below.

Suraya Widodo was born to parents Wijaya and Ni Made Saraswati on the island of Madura, Indonesia. They noticed that something didn’t quite seem right with their baby, who was fussier than most, threw fits when brought into crowded spaces and seemed mostly lost in their own thoughts, though this did little to dampen their love.

The name ‘Widodo’ (healthy) was given to Suraya (despite the masculine nature of it, which does lend to Suraya’s nonchalance about their gender in later years) in hopes that they would grow up alright despite their quirks.

Wijaya, a fisherman who wanted to give his family a better life in the more industrialized town of Bangkalan west of the island, pushed himself hard at his work, hoping to earn enough to allow them to settle down there comfortably.

He began to risk venturing out into ocean areas which were occasionally used as smuggling routes where more lucrative catches laid, careful to fish there during specific times to the day to avoid crossing paths with pirates and smugglers.

However, his luck ran out one day when a smuggling vessel came across him in broad daylight and silenced him from alerting the coast guards to their existence with five shots.

Suraya was five.

Saraswati, desperate to find a way to care for her child as the new breadwinner thought she had gotten lucky when a job scouter for a factory in Bangkalan came to the village. They were looking to offer work to single mothers as part of their corporate responsibility programme and extended the offer of employment to her and promised a hostel and training so she wasn’t out of her depth in the assembly line.

Seeing it as the best option, she left Suraya with her husband’s family while she worked and lived in a worker’s hostel on weekdays and returned to see Suraya every weekend.

She would give money to the family to care for Suraya in her absence, which was crucial since they weren’t fond of Saraswati (they had not agreed to Wijaya’s marriage) and found Suraya’s odd behavior off-putting and claims of ‘hearing voices’ potentially a sign of mental illness (which was fodder for them to demand even more money from Saraswati with the excuse that Suraya was a handful).

This routine continued until Saraswati was suddenly killed in a factory accident.

Suraya was nine.

The compensation for Saraswati’s death was enough for the family for only a few months and after it dried up, the neglect and abuse began. Though at times it was odd because Suraya seemed to know when they were in a bad mood and when they were looking for an outlet for their anger, and  the child would somehow almost always magically disappear during those times.

Then an agent claiming to be from the government came to see them.

He claimed he had heard about Suraya via their mother and wanted to inspect the child to see if they would qualify for a place in a ‘special school’ for ‘different’ children, and this had sounded tame enough to the family, who allowed him to see the shy, withdrawn little waif.

However Suraya immediately could tell what his true intentions were—-to have them locked up in a testing facility to figure out their ‘mutation’—-and attempted to run, only to be caught by his fellow officers outside the home.

The family was paid compensation for officially relinquishing Suraya’s care to the state, and did so without question, only relieved to be rid of their ‘burden’.

Suraya was taken to facility after facility in the state for the first few years to have a battery of tests, many painful, run on them to figure out their ‘special ability’ as an Outlier and to see if it could be replicated.

When they were in their early teens, they were transported overseas to a different facility as a bargaining chip for intel, tech and the like, coming into the ‘care’ of people who intended to use them as a government asset.

They never saw daylight except during transportation and they began to plan their escape as they studied the facility’s layout.

Their first attempt at escape didn’t go well however; they were caught, dragged back and had their eyes burned and blinded as punishment (at this point they had shown their handlers that their highly-enhanced hearing made them capable of navigating the world in total darkness, so said handlers didn’t not see this as ‘damaging the goods’).

If the handlers thought that the punishment would deter them however, it didn’t; Suraya just became more careful and subtle with the planning of their next attempt.

The second attempt came during a transport session where there were less guards and less access to tech to subdue them, though it came with a problem they did not plan for.

In their first attempt, they had tried escaping into the countryside. In this one, they hurled themselves out completely unprepared into a world louder than any world they had ever known; downtown London on a weekend.

The cacophony completely overwhelmed their senses and they barely managed to crawl-stumble into an alley as bounty hunters were enlisted to track them down.

It was here that they ran into one Ramiro Vasquez (Ravage) who was immediately concerned about their situation and once figuring out the nature of their distress, gave them his headphones to drown out the noise and kept them safe and hidden until the bounty hunters had left.

He then took Suraya back to the rented apartment he shared with Lara Soelberg (Laserbeak) and both agreed to let the waif stay with them for as long as they needed to be alright, and the three formed a little familial unit as Suraya grew deeply fond of the two Beast Men whom they saw as two of the most compassionate people in a horrible world.

Ramiro however understood that Suraya needed tutelage to properly harness and deal with their Outlier ability; having heard whispers of a secret Outlier school run Senator Sharifuddin Waseem (Shockwave) and knowing Sharifuddin as one of the few good men in the Senate, he decided to take the risk and confronted the Senator about the matter, promising to keep the secret a secret in return for helping out Suraya.

As it turned out the threats were not necessary, as Sharifuddin was genuinely  concerned for them and came to see them personally at the apartment. Initially,  Suraya was apprehensive about meeting someone else about their abilities, remembering full well how the first such meeting ended, but to their pleasant surprise, they detected no malice in Sharifuddin’s intentions; only the desire to help.

They agreed to enroll in Sharifuddin’s Outlier institute, coming back home to see Ramiro and Lara every weekend.

They excelled in their classes and soon mastered their ability and knew how to deal with the overstimulation that came from it, to the point where they could walk the streets with no problem.

In the wake of murders of Senators Nikomedes Momus and Gayathri Sharma, Suraya offered to become a spy for Sharifuddin, who was determined to solve the deaths, and Sharifuddin began bringing them to Senate meetings under the guise of them being his new aide.

They caught the eye of Senator Radbourne (RatBat) who seemed to pick up the fact that they were an Outlier, but rather than bring up the matter, requested that they work with him as well on.... matters regarding his constituents with disabilities.

Sharifuddin has his reservations about Radbourne and Suraya knew they were up to no good and both agreed to the arrangement so Suraya could dig up more information about them.

As it turned out, Radbourne was dirty as dirty as politicians came, but he had nothing to do with the murders. Rather, he was mostly preoccupied with an individual named Morgan Trayton (Megatron), the same individual whom Omar Parvez (Orion Pax)  a friend of Sharifuddin’s, had mentioned as a great writer.

Radbourne asked Suraya to track down Morgan with an offer the man hopefully wouldn’t refuse and Suraya, intrigued about this man with what they’d heard about him from Omar, agreed to do so.

They found Morgan in a vast underground fighting ring in Moscow, and after voicing some skepticism about him walking his written talk, he allowed them to peek into his mind to see how genuine and committed he was to his cause, and it took them aback for a bit to meet someone who despite being mired in tragedy, had Sharifuddin’s desire to make a better world and the iron will to back it up.

They pledged themself to be among the first members of Morgan’s rising revolution (which was aided by Omar spreading his writings through an underground press) and told them about Radbourne’s offer to supply weapons and augmentations to increase profits from the pitfighting racket.

Morgan agreed if only to use these exact items against the Senate once he’d acquired an army.

It was during this time with Morgan that they also met Ramsey (Rumble) and Friedel (Frenzy), a pair of dwarf miners who the man had been friends with for years, and almost immediately got along with their boisterous, gregarious natures. 

They continued to be Radbourne’s liaison with Megatron until the start of the Clampdown when they watched Morgan kill the owner of the Pit, free those who wanted their freedom and take those who were loyal to him to meet with Sharifuddin to formally establish a rebellion.

It was about this time that Suraya found out that Radbourne had been conducting illegal experiments on Beast Men, something they took grave offense to, and they kept mining Radbourne for more information about where the experiments were taking place.

Upon finding out, they personally hunted down Radbourne as Stefan Scavarro (Starscream) initiated the Senate massacre to Radbourne’s labs, where he tried to fight them off only to finally find out the true extent of their abilities.

Badly-injured, his attempt at stopping them from freeing the captive Beast Men—-his “property” as he would yell at them—-ended up with him hurled into a genetic splicing pod (commissioned from a ‘Mesothulas’) which he accidentally activated.

The process twisted him into a Rat-Bat-human hybrid, and rather than kill him, Suraya decided to leave the option to the Beast Men he tortured for profit in what they saw as poetic justice.

After those who wanted vengeance were done with Radbourne, Suraya gave the  Beast Men the option of leaving free or coming with them to be a part of Morgan’s revolution which would ensure that they were never mistreated and ostracized by the larger world again.

Two of the Beast Men took up the offer; Bastien Saville (Buzzsaw) and Gan Go-eun (Glit).

When Morgan, confident in Suraya’s abilities asked them  to establish their own division focussed on spying and intel gathering, Suraya chose Ramiro, Lara, Ramsey, Friedel and Bastien to work alongside them.

While Suraya occasionally questions Morgan’s actions, two things they have never questioned are his dedication to his cause and the compassion he shows to those they care for, and it’s enough for them to consider themself a true Decepticon till the day his objectives are achieved.

[funkymbtifiction]

Hey! Just wondering if you could describe/analyse an ESFP 6w5 (tritype - 612). I don’t see many analysis’ on the personality/nature of that combination of enneagram and MBTI. :)

This tritype is triple super-ego, which means there's not a single fix that is allowing this personality to do what they "want" -- it's all about what they "should" be doing, about their obligations, responsibilities, and the people who count on them. The 1 is firm in its convictions and has strong opinions about how people should live their lives; the 2 believes that they are not important unless they are somehow useful to other people; the 6 does not trust themselves fully (especially in the lead) and is seeking something to attach to, in order to make sense of the world and feel safer.

You have one fix (6) that is attachment, with two hexad fixes that "do what they want" and have firm views. This means this 6 isn't as influenced by other people and their opinions as they are influenced by ideas of what they SHOULD be doing / their duty. (Especially with a 5 wing, which adds one more hexad type to detract from the 6-ness.) 612 can become "too sure" to compensate for insecurity or uncertainty; they adopt a position and fiercely defend it, and do not shy away from conflict, because the 1 feels morally superior and that others are "in the wrong" (especially those who disagree with them).

6-2 wants to be a loving, generous, caring friend, but the 1 fix wants to go about this in the RIGHT way. There is a lot of "should" thinking, but also a lot of repressed thinking, because the numbers in the super ego triad all repress productivity for grinding their mental gears. 1 does this by insisting everything be perfect (an irrational desire that slows them down); 2 does this by over-focusing on their relationships and whether people like them (which means they often repress their true self to be more likable to others); 6 does this by over-thinking and hesitating rather than coming up with an immediate plan of action. A 7 wing is going to bring in some drive and forward momentum toward pleasure; a 5 wing is going to both stabilize the 6 in terms of finding a 'competent solution' and want to remain emotionally disengaged.

The result is that whenever you find this tritype in a feeling type, regardless of what kind of feeler they are, the 6w5 leading the charge means denial, repression, and distance from their own emotions, in favor of finding out what is safe/certain/competent for me to do. In an ESFP, they would be non-stereotypical for their type -- extremely focused on duty to their job, employer, loved ones, etc. Fun gets put aside for keeping their commitments and being right. A strong need for competency, so a lot of Te development (wing 5 + 1). Negative and fearful about the future with inferior Ni.

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 9 Notes

...設立から大分地盤が固まってきており、少しずつだが、業態は改善されている。

One thing to note here is that Kobayashi(‘s narration) isn’t saying the company has already made solid improvements, it’s that the company has finally established itself somewhat (as it was only founded relatively recently, and typically new companies are especially busy while trying to get off the ground) and now is starting to make improvements.

Similarly in the second sentence, it’s not “was” slow going, it’s “is still” slow going, and the working conditions “are” improving, not “have improved.”

This is ���んば ganba, short of course for がんばって ganbatte, which I’m sure most of you are familiar with: the (in)famous “do your best.”

I only mention it because I like this shortened version of it. Ganba!

This is a fun little idiom(?)/saying: 鼻で笑う hana de warau (conjugated as hana de warawareta), lit. to laugh using the nose. It’s used to describe laughing at someone you’re looking down on for whatever reason (not necessarily in a super serious way, could just be a friend being dumb etc.; in this case it’s Elma’s being naive).

Typically it refers to like a “heh-but-through-the-nose” kind of “laugh,” but as you can see in this scene (where clearly Kobayashi is laughing with the mouth, even starting with “pff” lips) it works idiomatically even if the laughing isn’t only through the nose.

You may have heard that Japan is/was a “lifetime employment” country, where typically people would get hired right out of school and stay at that company until retirement. While that’s much less true today than it was even a couple of decades ago (and has become kind of controversial in ways), it’s still much more common of a practice than in say the US.

One result of this is that there’s a much bigger distinction placed between hiring people in spring as part of the annual graduation rush (the Japanese school year ends in March), and mid-career hiring. Typically you can’t participate in the fresh grad hiring if you aren’t one, even if you’re new to the field in question. 

For larger employers (i.e. 5k+ employees), roughly two-thirds of all hirings come from fresh grads, and only small employers (<300 employees) hire more mid-careerists than people directly out of school.

Of course, this split tends to apply mostly to “standard” full time jobs, not so much part time, and is not necessarily a thing in every industry/at every company.

Just as a minor point of clarity, this “organized text” in Elma’s document refers to the phrase まとめられた文章 matomerareta bunshou. In a literal sense, matomerareta can mean organized/consolidated etc., and bunshou text/passages, but meaning-wise it’s more like “writing that gets its point across clearly/cleanly.” 

This is a pretty big compliment and a very useful skill to have in organizations like this, as writing such that people can quickly and easily understand exactly what you’re trying to say often saves a ton of time and frustration.

我々はエルマの気迫に押されるがままにその書類を読み始めた。

Another minor point, but where the English could imply that they were overwhelmed by Elma’s intensity through the act of reading her report, the Japanese implies more that they started reading it because of how intense Elma was being. 

It doesn’t really make much of a difference either way, but it stuck out a little for me. 

To justify mentioning it, I guess I’ll explain the grammar point Kobayashi uses: されるがままに sareru ga mama ni. Sareru is a generic verb/verb conjugation for having something done to you (technically here it’s 押される, to be “pushed/pressed/pressured”), and mama refers to a state, condition, or “way” (like “do it this way”).

Put together, the whole phrase is used to indicate “you” do/did something that someone else wants you to, without (meaningful) opposition. (Something similar in raw meaning but with a very different connotation would be “going with the flow.”)

If a friend says “hey let’s go do something,” and next thing you know you’re out bowling despite preferring to stay at home, this is you.

You can stick the mama ni to various other things as well to come up with a similar idea, but without the sareru the nuance may end up different. 

The word for clairvoyance here is 千里眼 senrigan, lit. “eye(s) [that can see] a thousand li”, li being a Chinese unit of measurement for length (shorter than a mile, but for general purposes “eyes that see a thousand miles” is basically the gist).

Despite the perhaps physical-sounding nature of the term, it does actually describe the same power as “clairvoyance” in English: being able to perceive things outside your actual range of vision, including potentially into people’s hearts and minds etc.

Hence why it’s a thousand screen display, when she updates it with tech knowledge:

“Tainted by work” here is 職業病 shokugyou-byou, lit. an occupational disease. The “proper” definition is a disease one gets from working in a particular job, such as black lung for coal miners or even posture-related health issues for desk workers. 

Additionally, it’s used colloquially to refer to noticeable habits or quirks that people in a certain profession pick up, like a baker always waking up super early or a programmer using programming lingo out of context in normal conversation. The latter being especially noticeable in Japanese, as a lot of such terms are English in origin.

“Shocking” here is a fun word: ドン引き don-biki. “Don” here is added just for emphasis; the main meaning revolves around 引き hiki/biki, from the verb 引く hiku, meaning to pull. 

The idea is that someone does/says something that you recoil from. Maybe it’s gross (“I only shower once a week”), maybe it’s mean (“They didn’t smile enough so I didn’t leave a tip.”), maybe it’s creepy (“I sent like 30 texts yesterday but still no reply.”), just anything that has you feeling like you might want to create some distance because... phew. 

It’s kind of similar to the current use of “cringe” as an adjective/noun, though with less of an internet-slang feel* to it, and generally used more as something the speaker is doing rather than describing whatever/whoever is being cringe. 

(*I think it started being used popularly in this way in the early-to-mid 90s, with the “don”biki variant specifically popping up around 2005.)

A “Premium Friday” is the last Friday of the month, where you get to leave work at 3 pm. It is largely theoretical. 

The idea was created by the Japanese government as a way to reduce working hours and encourage domestic spending (boost demand), but it has not been implemented by all that many employers, and especially not many smaller employers. There isn’t, after all, any mandate or government-provided incentive for doing so.

Evidence from the places that did implement it suggests it is actually good for the economy, but good luck convincing bosses to give extra paid time off.

“Last Friday of the month” was chosen because most people get paid on the 25th each month (Japan tends to pay monthly instead of every two weeks), so it would usually be right after payday, when people are more willing to get spendy.

Kobayashi saying eight hours here reminded me of a “fun” fact: the typical Japanese work day is eight hours plus a one hour break. Plus a one hour break, not with. So a typical work day is actually nine hours. Most commonly 8 to 5 or 9 to 6. Not many “nine-to-fives” here.

The characters for Joui are 上井, which usually read as Kamii or Uwai. It’s “Joui” because that means, when written as 上位, “superior.” As in “a superior life-form.” Like a dragon, say.

でも、ゆっくりやる事業改善案を見せてもらえたじゃない？

This one is actually kind of a critical mistake. In the English it sounds like she’s talking about the improvement proposal that Elma made and that the boss looked at. In the Japanese though, she’s talking about a different plan, one the boss showed them*, that is similar in idea but is going to take longer to be fully implemented**. So we’re being told that while Elma didn’t get what she wanted as fast as she wanted it, it is still basically going through at a slower pace.

*In ”見せてもらえた misete moraeta,” the misete vs mite means they were the ones who got shown something, rather than the ones who got someone to look at their stuff. 

**Which you can tell from the ゆっくりやる yukkuri yaru, where yaru is basically “do” and yukkuri means (in this case) at an unhurried pace.

(Re previous note: Hence why she says “immediately” here.)

“Black (ブラック)” and “white (ホワイト)” in the context of Japanese employers refers to how well employees are treated: a company with good benefits/pay, reasonable levels of overtime, and feels safe to work at is “white,” while a company that has excessive overtime, often pays poorly, breaks labor laws, and allows harassment to fester is “black.” 

While “white company” was created simply in contrast to the term “black company,” the latter finds its origins in front businesses for organized crime, which were called “black” in the sense of “illegal” (similar to “black market” or something being in a “grey area”). Given the international reputation of Japanese work life, you can imagine that “black company” as a term sees much more use.

There’s been some discussion about maybe replacing it due to the racial implications (especially since it uses the English word “black”), but while typically English translations drop the color for that reason (e.g. ブラック企業大賞, an “award” given to Japan’s worst employer each year, is officially “Most Evil Corporation of the Year Award” in English), it hasn’t really penetrated to the mainstream at this point.

The rice there is in a 飯盒 hangou, a metal container that looks… like that, and is the stereotypical item of choice for cooking rice while camping. It has its origins in the mess kits used by the military, but these days they’re primarily marketed as portable rice cookers for camping use. 

You can get round ones too, but the bean shape is very popular.

“Settings” here is 設定 settei, lit. exactly that, “setting(s).” E.g. if you open a computer program and look at the settings menu, it’ll be settei in the Japanese language settings (settei). 

I bring it up here because there’s a bit of a difference in how it gets used colloquially like this. In English, the “setting” for a story typically refers to where and when it’s set. In Japanese, “setting” in that sense is usually 舞台 butai. But settei is still used when talking about fiction, just in a different, more expansive way.

Often in these cases settei is used to refer to the various conceits that provide the context in which the story takes place. In this show, for example, one such “setting” is that dragons are real: another is that magic exists. It comes up especially often in fantasy/sci-fi type stuff where there are major distinctions between that universe and the real world—not that stories in a real-world setting don’t have settei of their own, but they often are lumped into descriptions of the plot in that case (”a dragon comes to live with an office worker in her apartment”).

It also refers to the “settings” of characters, like name or age, and things like “they run a bakery that’s going out of business and are trying to save it.” Basically all the details you’d have in a character profile.

It also gets used in conversation to refer to pretend things or (basically) lies: like here, where Saikawa thinks Shouta is playing pretend with his ley-lines talk, or e.g. if someone is trying to tell you some outlandish story (“my uncle works at Nintendo…” or someone asking for love life advice for “their friend”) and you’re just like “Okay so that’s the settei here, I see.”

Not really a big deal, but Elma’s line here in Japanese implies she won’t let Tohru call her that anymore (see her もう mou). Tohru’s response is also more of a “I haven’t been?”, since of course she wasn’t aware of Elma’s-mental-image-Tohru tormenting Elma in the previous scene:

The word for “full of” in the title here is ざんまい zanmai (a suffix form of 三昧 sanmai), usually meaning that there’s a whole lot of [whatever] to immerse oneself in. I mostly bring it up because there’s a famous restaurant chain called Sushi Zanmai that specializes in, obviously, sushi.

And you know, Elma is a water dragon that looks kinda like an eel… I’m just sayin’…

Not really a translation note, but wild that Elma didn’t even touch her parfait. (Not so wild that Fafnir finished his so quickly.) Serious business ahead...

“Genuinely” here is 素直に sunao ni, where the “ni” is used like “-ly” to make sunao work as an adverb. Sunao itself is an interesting word that falls into that category of “simple concept that is often hellish to translate.”

For some context, the first character, 素, is also used in the word 素顔 sugao, which is a face without makeup and 素材 sozai, basically raw ingredients/materials. The second, 直, is used in words like 直線 chokusen, a straight line, or 正直 shoujiki, honest.

Put them together, and you’ve got a word with connotations of directness and being unadorned. The original definition of the word tends toward “simple, natural” in the sense of e.g. life growing up on a rural farm. 

The more common use for it these days is to describe people and their actions. Positively, it can mean something similar to a person being happy to help, or kind of like the opposite of conniving; open, frank, genuine. Less positively, it can mean someone is too trusting and easy to trick into doing things OR someone who is “too honest” and says hurtful things. 

(If it helps: tsundere characters are often described as explicitly not sunao.)

In this case, the idea is that Tohru accepted the invitation easily as-is, without putting any conditions on it, or doing any “ugh, what a pain, do I have to, jeez” rigamarole—she just accepted. Another way you could put it in this case might be “It’s even more unusual for Tohru to accept an invitation like this without a fuss.”

Just to point out the hand on head thing again.

Also just to point out that this is another example of otsukare, as a reminder of how ubiquitous that word is.

And it makes a good place to end on: thanks for reading!

[oxzebi997]

CloneTober Day 16 Boba Fett

Read it on AO3

Support and Commission me on Ko-Fi

Boba couldn’t move. So, for the moment, he allowed his mind to wander.

Would his father be proud if he could see his son now? Trapped inside of some horrible thing because of a lucky shot from a blind man. His stomach turned and twisted and his chest felt hot and hard at the thought.

He tried once again to move toward the tiny sliver of light he could make out above him, but found that the long curved fangs that lined its fleshy maw did not retract.

“ Haar’chak!!” He hissed, kicking sharply at the soft wall of the creature’s stomach.

A’den. A lifetime of anger and vengeance. Boba sat heavily, reaching up under his helmet and holding his face in his hands.

Now what? He felt like a child again, he had no way to get out of this, his weapons had already proven useless and all he really wanted right now…

“ Ni su’yuci, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Buir…” the air around him seemed to cool, “I guess that’s you then? … I thought you were supposed to be ‘marching far away’ or something.”

He sat listening to wet gut wrenching sounds of the stomach, “this is your fault, obviously…” he muttered bitterly “you had to jump down after a man with a laser sword. Terrible decision, by the way.”

No answer, except a chill in his spine, “can you believe, after everything I’ve done, that that is what gives me nightmares? Pathetic…”

The light above him was fading, but was it night or a dust storm? “I even miss Kamino at this point…” he sighed heavily “I miss you…”

The wetness on his cheeks surprised him, it had been years since he’d let himself be vulnerable like this, strangely he didn’t feel weak or miserable like he had in the past. He felt… something comfortable in this release, sighing, he leaned against the warm wet flesh of the beast, closed his eyes, and remembered why he was even here.

I’m leaving now Boba, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I’ll be back soon, behave and make your Buir proud.

“I tried Buir, hope it paid off.” He smiled a little to himself.

Get back up, no excuses, you’re not beaten yet. That’s the key Boba, don’t you ever stay down.

“Easy for you to say, you died in three seconds. I’ll be down here for eternity.” He scoffed, still he wouldn’t give up even these ill timed memories for the whole galaxy.

A harsh chill ran through his body, he was surprised to see he had moved away from the wall when it passed “alright alright I’m sorry, E chu ta.”

He looked around some again, there was still not light coming through the narrow beak above him, something in the back of his mind whispering that this is a desert, nighttime would be the best chance to get out of here

“Great idea. But how, di’kut ! And what’s the karking point? I heard that crash, my employer is very dead by now.” He got up and started pacing, back and forth, suddenly his feet started to burn, a stinging electric pain through his whole body.

“Oh kriff not again…” he groaned, the acid was pretty weak but it still burned his skin and had managed to soak through the more worn parts of his armor, much of the paint had been digested by now. But as long as he stayed standing it wouldn’t come up very high, the deepest he’d seen was up to his knees for an hour. That had been hell.

You’re clever ad’ika, figure something out. Show your old man what you made of.

Every part of him felt weak and heavy suddenly. “Is this it? Is this really where I’m going to give up?” His face and chest burned, “I’ve had war heroes and criminals on the run. I’ve had the very brave and the very stupid on their knees begging for mercy! I’ve been hurt worse than this, I will not just sit here and get eaten by a slug that can’t even be bothered to actually hunt me like a real predator!

“I am not done. I am not dying here. I refuse to do nothing. I will make you proud of me, and the whole damned galaxy will remember me!”

His throat screamed, while his speech had filled him with a new kind of strength, the acid soaked air had torn up his voice, he choked a second but then an idea came to him.

He caught his breath, dropped his helmet, and listened. The acid had to drain out somewhere, toward to bottom, there!,slightly off center in the basic of this stomach.

“I’m not exactly happy about this plan. But I don’t really feel like sticking around.” He moved back as far against the wall as he could and reached to his utilities “you’d better kriffing work.”

The little sphere was adorned with a switch and a pulsing light emitted to announce the timer, two of the detonators were beyond useless, but the third hissed a moment before beginning to beep, he waited a second and tossed it onto the little closed up crack in the floor.

In the half second before it exploded he realized he had left his helmet on the other side of the stomach and quickly reached up to cover his face, but the bright light and heat still scorched his uncovered skin.

After a few seconds, and the deafening echoing screeches of agony the creature bellowed around him he looked up, he couldn’t see his helmet anywhere, cursing himself he moved and investigated the gaping new exit.

The cavern dropped now into what he could only assume was a second stomach, he noted however that there appeared to be some kind of air ways lining the walls.

“Alright, here’s the plan. Find the lungs, catch the next flight out of hell.” He smiled to himself and looked around again “see you around. Next time, I’m bringing a bigger bomb.”

[mrmercer13]

Making New Friends - a Manticore Story

Hi all, this is my entry for day 2 of the DMC OC week. Story below the cut.

Lady stood in front of the old hospital, where her mission was supposed to take place. She looked up at it, trying to  get a glimpse through the windows, but it was too dark to make anything out. No surprises there: the place had been abandoned years ago, and only now had some crazy rich guy decided it was worth too much money to be left alone. That was what she was here for, but it wasn’t that simple. Apparently her employer didn’t want to take any risks on this job and had hired a second devil hunter to help out. Lady was tempted to just go in and blow the demons away herself, but her employer had insisted that the two go in as a pair and the reward being offered was too big to risk pissing him off. So she waited, and moments turned to minutes. She’d been waiting there a quarter of an hour before a shadow crept over her and she turned around to see the largest man she’d ever met, burlier than any demon she’d ever come across and unbelievably hairy. Which made the big dumb grin on his face an incredibly bizarre sight.

“Hi! You’re the hunter I’m supposed to be working with, right? Sorry I’m late: I got lost and had to find my way back to somewhere I knew. I’m Leon, what’s your name?” The giant extended a hand and Lady, momentarily stunned by the strange man’s sudden appearance and extreme cheeriness, shook it. “Lady.” She said, after a brief pause. “That’s a fun name, like the dog in that one movie.” “…Sure, whatever. Now come on, we’ve got a job to do.” Lady marched past him and into the hospital, drawing a pistol and switching on the attached tactical light. Leon followed, babbling about how much “fun” the job was going to be and asking inane questions about her. She was used to other devil hunters being cocky, but this was new. This one was…friendly. And dumb. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She tuned out most of it and gave the questions noncommittal answers – though something she couldn’t figure out bothered her when he asked about her rocket launcher – until they found a stairwell and Lady suggested they split up. Lady made her way to the top floor and would check there while Leon would check the ground floor, then they’d meet up in the middle and sweep that floor as a team. Leon agreed and sprinted off, and it was only then that she realised why the rocket launcher comment had bothered her.

“Wait, Leon! Where are your weapons?!” she yelled out, but he had already rounded a corner and didn’t respond. Lady gave an exasperated sigh and walked upstairs: she knew she could take on whatever was here by herself, and if that idiot got himself torn apart it would be his own fault. The guy didn’t even have a light source on him, he was so unprepared. Someone like that was just going to feed whatever demons he came across and make the other hunters’ jobs harder.

The top floor was swarming with demons. They looked a lot like the Hell Prides she and Dante had fought during the Temen-Ni-Gru incident a couple of years ago, but they were taller and seemed to hold themselves steadier: Lady supposed they must have been training themselves after the two kicked their asses so hard back then. Not that they were much trickier to take out: a hail of gunfire tore through them like paper, without any need for Kalina Ann. In just a few minutes she’d cleared out the floor and counted up the red orbs of the fallen demons: she’d need a clear number to figure out how much she was getting paid. She counted fifty demons worth of orbs, a worryingly large amount. It meant there was a commander of some kind nearby, making the place a hotbed of demonic activity: if she wanted the place cleared out, she’d have to take out that commander. It was a shame about Leon, but there was no way an unarmed man could take on something like that. It was as she reached the stairs, however, that she heard a bestial roar from below.

Lady sprinted down the stairs to find the source of the roar. She came down to a large empty ward on the ground floor and saw a pair of vicious-looking demons. One was a lanky skeletal figure with purple tendrils sprawling across its body, holding a pair of what looked to be scythe blades. It was kind of like a Hell Vanguard, but it seemed like they had been training too. She guessed this was the commander. The other, however, was something she hadn’t seen before. It was some kind of massive leonine humanoid, with great wings, horns and a scorpion tail. One of the commander’s blades was embedded in the beast’s chest, which was covered in glowing golden scars.

The lion-thing seemed to laugh – Lady caught a glimpse of row upon row of razor-sharp teeth – before rearing back and slamming into the commander with its horns. This appeared to stun its adversary, which stumbled back as the lion drew back a fist and slammed it forward, the fist seeming to encase itself in rock as it slammed into the commander. The commander flew backward, the tendrils around the blade in its enemy’s chest snapping free as it was launched into the wall behind it.

The commander got back up, the tendrils and blade regrowing, but the lion had already pulled the blade from its chest and was on all-fours now, launching itself towards the commander and laying into it with claws that shone with brilliant light, leaving trails of radiance in the air behind them. The beast slashed and mauled, dodging all incoming blades with lightning-fast reflexes, before it resumed a bipedal position and took what looked to be a genuine combat stance, the kind you’d see a martial artist take. It threw expert punches and kicks, not quite as fast as when it was on all-fours or as strong as when it was impaled on the blade, but with a level of precision and skill that showed that this demon was more than just some raging animal. It struck the softest parts of the commander’s body, winding it and leaving it vulnerable, before lancing forward with its tail and striking the commander in the chest. The stinger at the end of the tail seemed to pulse outward with golden demonic energy, blasting through the commander’s chest and leaving it to fall to the ground and crumble into orbs.

It was then that she saw something unexpected. The lion demon, this ferocious monstrosity that she had just seen demolish a demon commander, started to cheer and dance with joy. “Yeah, I did it! I’m the best!” she heard it yell, and though the voice was distorted and growling, she could still recognise it as the one that had been asking her all those questions just a few minutes ago. Sure enough, there was a golden flash and there stood Leon, that same idiotic grin on his face and looking none the worse for wear. She put a hand to the shotgun at her side, but paused. This was a demon: just a couple of years ago she’d have put a gun shop’s worth of buckshot in his skull without a second thought. But this wasn’t a couple of years ago: her time in Temen-Ni-Gru had shown her that even demons had the potential to be kind, and this one certainly didn’t look like he was planning to hurt any innocents any time soon. Hell, he was taking down monsters that would put innocents in danger. So she stepped away before Leon could see her and went back to the stairs, pretending that she had just gotten there when Leon arrived. She said nothing about what she had seen, just checked that he was okay and carried on with the mission.

There were only a few demons on the middle floor: the pair wiped them out in no time at all. Leon was quieter than before, but still seemed happy as ever as they headed back out and went to report their success. As they were walking, Leon spoke up. “Thanks for not shooting me back there.” Lady stopped, surprised. “Wait, you knew I was there?” Leon shrugged. “I smelled a human nearby, figured it was you.” A pause. “Wait, that was you, right?” Lady couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yes, that was me. Look, I misjudged you earlier: it’s clear now that you know what you’re doing. I still wish you’d take the job a little more seriously, but it’s not like you’re the only one who doesn’t. I guess I just want to say I’m sorry for being so dismissive earlier.” Leon let out a deep, bellowing laugh. “You don’t have to apologise for anything! We’ve already bonded over fighting demons: that means we’re friends now!” Lady smiled at that. “If you say so. Hey, thinking of friends I do know another hunter who’s also a demon. Well, half demon, but I figure you guys might have something in common. Head down to Devil May Cry some time: he could do with the company.” Leon’s face lit up even more than normal. “Yeah, that sounds great! It’ll be so much fun, like…like...like something that’s really fun!“ Lady smiled to herself as Leon started rattling off ideas for fun activities they could do together. Well, why not? Dante could get pretty lonely sometimes, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Meeting someone that cheery might be good for him. The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful: they reported their success, got their pay and went home. Lady still didn’t know this Leon guy too well, but she was pretty sure that people would be a lot safer with him around.

Author’s note: Manticore got lost on the way to visiting Dante and ended up at Devil May Fry, a poorly-named fried chicken place on the other side of town. He never did end up meeting Dante, but the chicken was nice at least.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Seven

A/N: This part has a lot of bits that I have been excited to share. There are a lot of pieces of my own HCs in here, as well as a few plot hint crumbs that I’ve had fun developing, so I hope you guys enjoy this one! (Also sorry it was late- we got power back late last night and I was too lazy to post after making dinner. oops. Don’t worry, I already formatted eight so this won’t happen again next week) Also, also... Fennec and Boba are fun to write :) 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: The Mandalorian makes the journey back to Tatooine to take care of some things back at the covert after his run in with Navina on Nevarro. More is revealed about the goings on in the upper levels of Boba Fett’s complex, we learn what he and Fennec are up to, as well as a little more about how things are run below. And we finally hear what Bo-Katan has been itching to tell him. 

Warnings: descriptions of violence, death, talk of manipulating kids (if you’re unsure feel free to ask) 

Word Count: 5.6k

Tatooine. 

  The suns were sinking into the Dune Sea by the time he pulled Peli’s rental speeder into one of the hidden bays at the rocky base of Fett’s palace complex. There were three other occupied spaces, leaving just the one to his left empty. A quick scan of the vehicles that were there told him immediately who wasn’t. Fennec. Hers was the easiest to recognize. She had painted it a heavy matte black, accented with a weblike design of crisscrossing red lines. It wasn’t inconspicuous but she didn’t want or need it to be. If one of her targets saw her speeder and made the connection, it was already too late for them to turn and run. She liked knowing that they felt some modicum of fear or at the very least panic in the seconds before she struck, and he couldn’t blame her. They had it coming. 

For too long the scum that she and Boba were after had run nefarious crime rings that preyed on scared, young kids with nowhere else in the galaxy to turn. It was how they’d both ended up in their line of work, Boba swept into a life of violent instability in the aftermath of his father’s death, and Fennec developing a kind of admiration and a misplaced feeling of owing her employers for rescuing her from being sold to a brothel as a child. The slime had wasted no time in manipulating her, taking that gratitude and twisting it into something ugly and sinister, crafting her into a sniper, a trained, leashed killer, trading one horrible outcome for another. By the time she realized how trapped she truly was, the price on her own head had climbed so high it had very nearly gotten her killed. 

He winced thinking back to when he’d found her crumpled form in the sand. His thoughts had flashed so quickly to Grogu, to getting back to where he was and ensuring his safety, that he had only given Fennec a cursory check for any signs of life. Had Fett not been tracking the Mandalorian in search of his father’s armor, the woman would have died there in the desert. But the grizzled wanderer had found her, and saving the assassin from the brink of oblivion had given both of them a second chance. Fennec had been freed from the things that held her feet to the flames, and Boba had been given a reason to care for someone other than himself. He may have never been in any real peril on Tatooine- Not even in that pit if how I’ve seen him fight is any indication of how he handled that Sarlacc- but two souls were saved that day regardless. Though they worked as a pair and while Fennec deferred to Fett at first, she gave him her loyalty because she chose to, not because she was made to, and he gave her his respect because she had proven herself to be just as resilient as he was.  

Now, having taken the palace from the Hutt crime family and rooted out their presence on the planet, the two child killers turned vigilantes had started working on the galaxy’s other crime rings. Their sights were currently set on the Black Sun syndicate, and they had been working on picking away at one of their strongholds in Ord Mantell City, dispatching those who gave them no new information immediately, and freezing and bringing anyone who might have something useful to share back to the complex on Tatooine. Karga and the Bounty Hunter’s Guild on Nevarro had even been helping them, and more than a handful of the Mandalorians from the new covert had offered their assistance as a way to repay Boba and Fennec for providing them the space. Yes, they were taking the law into their own hands, but he had seen time and again how easily the New Republic could be made to look the other way, so he had no personal or moral objections to what they were doing. 

And so far they had brought three children under the age of thirteen back to the covert. The kids were being held captive as leverage so that the Black Sun leaders could keep control over their parents, often threatening them with things unspeakable should they refuse to do what their bosses required of them. The youngest was no more than five. After they’d been fed and tended to by the Healer and given a place to rest in the tunnels below, Woves one of the Mandalorians he’d first met on Trask, had set out to get in touch with the guardians of the rescued children. Since joining the cause to unite the clans, Axe had become increasingly interested in participating in educating and caring for the covert’s children, even assisting the Instructor in teaching new sparring techniques or sharing the perspective of someone who had grown up on Mandalore when it came to more cultural or historical lessons. Though he’d tried to make contact multiple times using the information that he had on the children- only their names and home planets- just the two older boys had been claimed by living relatives. 

The smallest, a girl barely reaching the top of Woves’ boot, didn’t seem to have anyone anywhere. Though he continued to try to locate the child’s kin, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the Armorer was presiding over the gai bal manda, the man who had once been one of Bo-Katan’s most feared fighters kneeling in front of the entire Tribe and swearing to protect and raise the child as a warrior, as a member of his clan. As his own. 

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child. Grogu. 

He felt a tug in his chest, just behind his rib cage as he dismounted the speeder, those big round eyes blinking at him from beneath that wrinkled green forehead and those over large ears filling his thoughts before he could guard himself. With a sigh, he wished for what could have been the hundredth time that he had been given the chance to take that vow, swear those words… Raise my son. 

Slinging his bag across his body and ensuring that the Darksaber’s hilt was clipped firmly to his belt with one hand, the other went to one of the leather pouches at his waist. Without needing to look, he pulled the small silver ball from its designated spot, spinning it twice between his thumb, index and middle fingers. We’ll see each other again. I promise. The metal sphere slipped smoothly in his gloved grasp, the object giving him comfort. It was something tangible, a link to the thing he carried in his heart for the child that had upended his entire world. Bo-Katan might understand Woves’ choice if she… He let out another breath and tucked the ball away. But all she can see is Mandalore. 

The sharp-eyed, orange- haired heiress was not too keen on her former companion’s sudden calling towards child rearing, but swearing an adoption vow, promising to care for a foundling, was such an integral part of Mandalorian beliefs, of The Way, that she knew better than to try to talk him out of it. She would lose any credibility that she had as a leader if any of the others caught wind of that. She still had Reeves, and Hast,  one of the few that had made it off of Nevarro, had also volunteered to help her search for other hidden coverts and lone stragglers in the far reaches of the Outer Rim, on the quiet, often overlooked planets in the Mid Rim, in the corrupt and crowded cities of the Core Worlds. And if she wanted more help I’m sure there are others who would go. 

He cringed, tilting his chin down to glance at the innocuous looking object knocking against the beskar tasset covering his left thigh with every step towards the tunnels he took. If she wanted, I could… He reached across his body to wrap his hand around the sword's grip. It still felt strange. Unnatural. I could order others to join her mission. Dropping it as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it hit the beskar beneath it with a loud clang that echoed in the dark passages that connected the speeder bay to the main hall. Leadership in a fight, in a battle, in negotiations, while all still outside of what he would have chosen for himself, were things that he could get his head around. But making demands? Setting punishments and enforcing laws? It was the things that ran in that vein of what it meant to be the Mand’alor that gave him the most pause now that the Armorer had assuaged some of his other doubts regarding the title that had been thrust upon him, unwanted. 

Thing after thing. Loss after loss. Responsibility after responsibility. That had been his life for nearly four decades, and it didn’t seem like his burdens would be getting lighter any time soon. For the first time since he left Nevarro two days before, he thought of the woman he’d run into there, whose stolen vambraces he was bringing back to be reforged. Navina. Though he’d only spent a few hours with her he had picked up the impression that difficult trials and heavy hardships followed her wherever she went, too. He wondered if that was uniquely Mandalorian, or if there were others who understood the same level of loneliness that sometimes came when such strength was constantly required of a being. She had spoken of her clan; of losing her mother and being separated from her father and the foundling that her family had taken in, not knowing after all that time if they were still alive. He knew the odds and she seemed clever enough to know them, too, and though he had sympathy for her, it also made him feel less like he was alone in struggling to carry an ungainly load. I have to remember to ask the others about her father… Harsa. That was the name.  

There were several things he had to do on this trip, asking about Navina’s family name just the latest addition to the list. After promising the Armorer on his last visit that he would begin training with the Darksaber, he knew that he would be spending at least two sessions with the Weapons Master, learning how to wield the legendary black blade. We’ll start with the beskad, though. He was firm in that and he knew that no one would argue with him. He wanted to check in with Fett, make sure that the arrangement was still working and that the man didn’t need anything from him. He had no doubt though, that if the man running things topside had any issues, he wouldn’t hold them back, not hesitating to contact the Mandalorian directly to launch his complaints. His directness was one of the things that he liked most about Boba, and one of the reasons that he had been so quick to trust him. I hope he’s free now. I’d rather start there then…

The last thing that he absolutely could not leave the planet without doing, was meeting with Bo-Katan for a debrief on the recruiting efforts and to begin discussing tactics for reclaiming their ancestral homeland. Hers, anyway. She wasn’t happy that he had put it off for as long as he had, but again, he knew that she wouldn’t voice her displeasure for fear of the optics of disagreeing with the Mand’alor. Politics. His top lip curled at the thought that he would have to get good at knowing how to keep people on his side, even when he knew that their endgames were slightly out of alignment with his. Maybe she’s in the sparring hall now. He knew that she spent hours training with Reeves and Hast whenever she came back to the covert, and he hoped that was where she was now. 

If he was being entirely honest, something about her still didn’t sit well with him, but he knew that he didn’t have to like everyone to work with them. 

Striding the last few steps through the winding passage, he finally reached the plain stone archway, a circular splotch of light from one of the torches visible on the other side of it. Two helmeted Mandalorians stood guard, but moved aside as soon as they saw the signet on his shoulder and the Darksaber on his belt. 

“Olarom yaim, Mand’alor.” The shorter of the two spoke with a nod, welcoming him home in a voice that cracked too adolescently for the modulator in the newly sworn fighter’s helmet to hide. A kid. He recalled the first few years after he’d finished his required training in the Fighting Corps, the cockiness, the harsh lessons that no amount of studying or practicing in the sparring hall could prepare him for. He’s just a kid. 

It was different though, the way that Mandalorians allowed Tribe members to swear additional oaths inducting them into the elite group of warriors at seventeen, than what the syndicates did, how they inducted their young members. We learn and train our whole lives for it. Understand what we’re agreeing to. Not like… He swallowed a sudden spike of rage at the thought that the quiet, innocent child that was likely still latched to Woves’ right leg would have otherwise ended up raised to be a mercenary -or worse- for the Black Sun. But she won’t now. 

“Thank you,” he responded to the young guard cursing himself for forgetting the Mando’a translation. I need to do better with that. Again he felt his thoughts backtracking to Navina and the way that he’d heard several Mando’a words roll easily off of her tongue. Maybe she can… when we meet again in a few weeks, maybe she can help me with… He sighed. There was a long list of things he needed to talk to her about when he saw her next, just like the list of things that awaited him at the top of the staircase he was currently climbing. He wanted to know more about her pendant, about the seam they had found in the metal that hinted at a modification that was made well after the piece had been crafted that would allow the Mythosaur to hold the peculiar stone that shone purple. He wanted to know more about what had prompted her family to leave Concordia, why they were running and why they’d had to separate. He wanted to know anything that he could from her and any other Mandalorians he encountered that might help him be the Mand’alor that the young guardsman and everyone else in the covert seemed to think that he was. 

As soon as he ascended the last few steps though, his thoughts were interrupted by a heavy arm falling around his shoulder. “Still in one piece then, Mand’alor?” 

Boba Fett’s gruff, gravely voice was oddly comforting, and he knew that he was likely one of maybe two people who thought that. He returned the one armed thunk that he supposed the other man took for a hug. “Seems that way.” The man’s heavily scarred face pulled up into a jagged looking grin, the expression almost jarring on such a serious visage, but then a rumbling chuckle came out and took the smile with it, leaving his features in their natural scowl. “Everything alright here?” 

The Mandalorian followed Fett through the large main hall, past the stone slab throne that he only occupied when passing judgement on those that he and Fennec brought back once any useful information could be wrung from them, and through to the long table that had been brought in for strategy meetings and sharing information with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and others who agreed to offer help. “Everything’s fine,” he said with a grunt, gesturing flippantly with one hand, pulling a chair out from the table with the other. “The Princess wasn’t too thrilled when she found out she’d have to wait for you, but tell me, Mandalorian, is that woman ever truly happy about anything?” 

He had never so much as seen her smile. Pulling out a chair of his own, he simply shrugged. It seemed unlikely. “I’ll meet with her as soon as we’re through here.” Fett nodded. “I had… urgent business on Nevarro.” 

“Urgent?” One eyebrow rose on the man’s forehead. 

“Yes, I met another Mandalorian, only she was,” he tilted his head to the side as the image of Navina’s silver-gray eyes staring at him through her shattered visor flashed in his mind. “Different.” 

Boba answered with another gruff chuckle as he reached for the jug of spotchka that was never too far away. “Different, was she?” He took a long pull, the remnants of his teasing laugh still there when he lowered the jug and swiped the back of his free hand across his mouth. 

What? No, that’s- He leaned forward, elbows on the stone surface as he made a quick slicing motion with one hand. “No. That’s not what I meant.” 

It wasn’t. But as he dropped his palms back to the tabletop, he could recall the way it felt when he’d gripped her biceps, shaking her from her dreams. He had been concerned that she would hurt herself or more inconveniently, break one of the controls in the cockpit with the way she was thrashing in her sleep. But what he remembered now, hands flat before him, was how it felt to make contact with her skin, even if it was just through the thick padding of his gloves. He pressed his thumb down hard on the table like he had pressed it into the crease of her bent arm, squeezing the muscle there to get her attention. She felt strong and warm and solid and he almost held onto her for too long, caught up in the feel of another body beneath his hands. That isn’t what I meant. 

He cleared his throat and went on. “She hasn’t sworn the Creed, but she carries out the traditions, she can fight, knows things about Mandalorian history-“ he looked up at the man across from him, Fett abandoning his ribbing to regard the Mandalorian seriously. “She had a helmet and a dagger made of pure beskar.” 

“And you’re sure she’s not a thief?” 

Technically she is. But she didn’t steal the helmet or the kal. She didn’t steal the pendant. “They belonged to her parents.” He explained what the woman had told him about how her family had been split up- how she had known for a fact that her mother had been killed, but that since it had been years since she’d seen her father or the other child in her family, she had no way of knowing if they were still alive. “She… she asked me to spread word here at the covert, in case anyone knows where to find her father. Harsa. His name is Gavil Harsa.” 

Boba shrugged. “Don’t know any Harsa. But then, I’m no Mandalorian either. Your different girl and I have that in common.” 

She’s not my-

But before he could protest what had just been said, voices from the same entrance he had come through caught his and Boba’s attention, the other man standing as Fennec’s dry, smirking tone could be heard greeting the guard at the door. “You’re back.” He stated, opening his arms wide, his voice booming across the otherwise empty space. “What took so long?” He dropped his arms as Fennec maneuvered a carbonite block through the doorway. 

She cocked her head in the direction of the hardened, frozen slab containing what could have been any number of humanoid species, their features completely indiscernible but clearly contorted in terror. “Ixon here didn’t want to come quietly.” She turned to pull the block the rest of the way through, the unit hovering weightless and only needing her guidance for direction. “It was actually quite a workout.” She grinned. “For him.” Fett let out another gravelly laugh as Fennec turned her attention to the Mandalorian. “Mando,” she smiled and used one hand to push her long black braid behind her. “Good to see you.” 

“Fennec,” he nodded a greeting. “You’ve been busy, I see.” 

“Nothing for the Mand’alor to worry about,” she winked, shoving the block containing Ixon more roughly than necessary. “Just dealing with the trash.” She winked as she walked through, waving off Boba when he tried to assist her. “I’ll handle this one on my own.” She patted the side of the unit with an almost malicious gleam in her dark eyes. “It’s personal.” 

“I’d pity him if he weren’t walking slime,” Boba offered her the spotchka jug but she declined with a flick of her wrist. 

“He might not be walking when I’m done.” She gave the block another shove towards a door on the other side of the large room, her lips lifting in a quick snarl. “See you around, Mando,” she called over her shoulder, disappearing with Ixon, not waiting for a response.

“They say if you love your job you never work a day in your life,” he clapped a large meaty palm on the Mandalorian’s arm. “And Shand loves her new job.” That much is obvious. “Speaking of jobs, Mand’alor,” he gestured with his jug towards another set of stairs that led to the tunnels that the covert was using, the blue liquid sloshing gently as he did. “I’m sure yours is calling.” 

He stiffened. “Yes.” 

The man, gnarled by life and the things that had tried to drag him from it, set the jug down then. “Taking that planet back… well, you know what I think there.” I do. From first mention, he had not held back his opinion of the mission. “But bringing this many Mandalorians together under one roof? And they haven’t killed each other yet? I know you didn’t ask for this but,” he narrowed his eyes. “That’s no small feat.” 

It was as close to true praise as Boba Fett had likely ever bestowed upon anyone, and he knew that. It was also the truth. He thanked the man and crossed the room to yet another doorway that led to a different set of stairs. This time though, as he shifted the bag on his shoulder, the metal pieces inside clanging together, he did not stop on the landing and wait to pass off the reclaimed beskar to a middleman. This time, he continued down the second set that brought him to the forge. 

It was quiet, the Armorer taking a rare break from her unending task of providing the best protection and defenses that she could for her people. As a child it was easy for him to forget that there was a human beneath that pointed gold helmet. Her understated power, the sparks that flew frantically from her hammer, the ability she possessed to craft such stunning objects all contributed to the almost mythological status that he and the other small children regarded her with. He still admired and respected her and held her in higher esteem than anyone else in the covert, he knew that even the Armorer needed to eat, needed rest, needed to give her own ears a reprieve from the ringing of her tools battering hot metal. 

Entering the room for the first time since the covert relocated to Tatooine, he gave himself time to take the space in. Slowly turning his head he scanned over the work table, all of the tools neatly arrayed, each one clean and sharp and shining, each one a weapon in its own right. The forge itself was unlit, the mouth that usually spat fire simply open in a gaping yawn, but as he ran his hand over it he felt the residual heat that never completely faded. He wondered if what was left of the forge back on Nevarro still retained any warmth. 

Drawing his hand back, he stepped over to the small table that the Armorer used for meeting with the recipients of her work. Reaching into his bag, he took the vambraces that Navina had surrendered and set them on the surface between the two empty stools, leaving them for when the Armorer returned to her duty. She’ll know what to do. And where they came from. He would return to the forge the next morning to speak with her in more detail about the items’ provenance, and also to spread Navina’s family name to the member of the Tribe who was most likely to know it. He gave the room one last scan, slowly turning his head so that he could see it all through the eyeline of his visor, then left, continuing on with his own list of responsibilities. 

A handful of the covert’s children, some in the second hand helmets of the older ones, others belonging to clans that didn’t cover their faces at all times displaying smudges of dirt across round cheeks, were gathered in the widest portion of the hall. Engaged in some game that he likely played himself at that age, they shrieked and laughed and jumped. The kid would love it here. He could easily picture Grogu waddling into the group of young Mandalorians and fitting in without a problem, and he hoped that he had other children to be a child with while he underwent his Jedi training.

Continuing on and following the fork to the left, he headed next for the sparring hall. Unlike the forge, it was not empty. He could already hear the sound of practice staffs clashing, and the Instructor’s voice calling out advice to his trainees. One of the fighters grunted as they lunged or swung, and he knew right away from the sound that it was Bo-Katan, the heavy footsteps he heard suggesting that she was training with Hast. 

Since she was occupied at present, he stopped at the door beside the entrance to the sparring hall to arrange sessions with the Weapons Master. The man seemed pleased that the Mand’alor was ready to start working with the beskad in preparation for the Darksaber, and gave him his choice of available times for one on one training. Slating himself for three instead of the two he had planned on, he thanked the man and, with nothing left to do to push it off any longer, he entered the sparring hall and prepared to speak with Bo-Katan. 

She was still locked in a battle with Hast, the hulking man nearly twice her size but incredibly nimble for his weight and width. Blocking a swing of her opponent’s staff, the helmetless woman gritted her teeth and gripped her own weapon, holding it horizontally in front of her chest to take the force of the blow. Her feet slid back but she dug them in and gave a strong shove. Staffs still connected, the push set Hast off his balance just enough for her to turn the staff and whip it down and behind the man as he tried to regain his footing. In a sweeping blur she used it to take his legs out from under him, and he fell hard to the ground. Following all the way through to the finishing position, Bo-Katan flipped her staff around, jabbing it a few inches from Hast’s helmet, signifying her victory. 

It was impressive, but the Mandalorian knew that she was a skilled fighter, having seen her in live battle. She extended a hand to help Hast up, then turned towards the entrance. “You’re here.” It sounded almost skeptical, and he noticed the tiny twitch of her brow, hardly any sweat beading there after her workout. “Back from your,” she passed the staff behind her to Hast who took both of them back to the wall, the Instructor stowing them on their pegs. “From your urgent business?” 

He’d been expecting her to be upset, so the bite in her tone wasn’t a shock. “Yes.” He answered simply, not willing to allow her annoyance to spark his own. “I’m ready to discuss plans with you.” 

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line as though that was the only thing keeping her frustration in. She swallowed, then let out a short breath and gestured toward the door. “Shall we, then?” 

The Mandalorian nodded and once she’d thanked the Instructor and Hast for the session, she followed him out into the hallway, the two heading for one of the smaller halls that had been designated for closed door meetings. “Thank you, for your patience.” He knew that she hadn’t been patient, but that she wanted it to seem like she had. “I had things to tend to, but I’ll be here for about two weeks, and I,” he opened the door to the room, letting her in before him and then closing it after he entered. Letting out a small sigh that he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear, he continued. “Aside from training with the Weapons Master I can spend as much time as necessary working with you.” 

Her cheek jumped as she gave a quick smile that was more of a forced smirk. “Well, that’s great news.” Pulling out a chair, she gestured for him to do the same, which he did. “Because we have a lot to discuss.” 

She went on to tell him that she, Hast and Koska Reeves had come back with ten adult Mandalorians from a covert located in the Mid Rim, and four children that had been part of their clans. There were a few that had chosen not to come back to Tatooine, but he and the others had all agreed that no one would be forced into joining them, that it was a decision only they could make for themselves. Still, adding fourteen to the Tribe in just one trip was something of note. For most of his life he had thought that his kind were far closer to extinction than they were. It was encouraging to see their numbers grow after so much time spent thinking that they were alone, and he hoped it gave the others that joined them there that same feeling of hope. That even if the quest to take back Mandalore were to fail, they would still have a safe place there where they didn’t have to hide in the shadows and only gather in groups of twenty or fewer. At least they were united now. At least they had a home.    

She went on to tell him about the old rebel base they had heard about on the remains of Concord Dawn, a planet in the Mandalore System that had all but been destroyed in the centuries of warfare that plagued that portion of the galaxy. Largely uninhabitable, and missing nearly a third of its mass, the planet had been abandoned ages ago. But it’s proximity to Mandalore made it a good candidate to set up a base of their own once the battle for their planet began. She outlined what would be needed in terms of weapons, fortifications and troops, and stated that once they had acquired and allotted the required supplies, she would like to accompany him on a trip to Concord Dawn so that he could see it for himself before the base was established. 

Agreeing to all of this, he listened as she laid out her plans for obtaining what was needed, giving her another two hours of his time before exhaustion started setting in so heavily that he wouldn’t have been able to listen to much more even if it was the most interesting topic in the universe. Assuring her that they could pick up where they left off the next morning, he excused himself from the small room and headed for the chamber that he always slept in when he was at the covert. 

He didn’t know why, but as he removed his helmet he thought again of the woman he met on Nevarro, and how he was about to begin a war to take back her home planet. Unbuckling the rest of his armor piece by piece and laying it out to be polished and cleaned, he wondered if she would ever go back to the place she was born once they had won it back, or if their own traditions would make her feel unwelcome there. Frowning, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case, that he would help build the kind of society that welcomed anyone who was an ally, whether or not they swore an oath. Would she take the creed? Pulling the breastplate cuirass over his head, he wondered if it was even something she would want to do. She said she wasn’t given the chance… what if she was? 

Shaking his head to clear her from his thoughts, he finished taking care of his armor for the evening, focusing on the lightness in his limbs that came from removing all that weight, and sunk into the mattress, finding sleep as soon as his eyes closed. 

But the head shake hadn’t cleared her completely, his dreams tinged with purple light and the echo of her name.

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Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor​​​​​​​ @alraedesigns​​​​​​​ @pheedraws​​​​​​​ @valkblue​​​​​​​ @malionnes​​​​​​​ @gollyderek​

[doodleniella]

Candy Apple

A Kenma x g/n!reader short drabble

🍎 Genre: fluff

🍎 Word Count: 776

🍎 Inspired By: this set/s of summer festival artworks made by Korean artist @_Hemoon, feat. KuroKen (there’s also for BokuAka and some of the Inarizaki boys, too btw) I also made one of Kenma’s as my phone lockscreen wallpaper stfu //////

🍎 Author’s Note:

Shoutout to some of my amazing and wonderful moots @kamiboeikan @apollochjld (and fellow HQ fans that I forgot to mention sorry~) for reacting to my “weird?” thirst post days ago—YOU GUYS ROCK!!! Also, a big BIIIIIIIG special thanks to @edensxgarden for giving me some fanfiction writing tips on the wee small hours (i e, around 3 o’clock in the morning lol) while I was struggling on typing this short drabble via Google Docs for the third time. I’m not sure if I have followed them all correctly, but I had fun typing it—especially that bridge scene... made my heart beat faster as if I’m on the reader’s shoes and interacting—I owe you more Yukata!Nekoma fanarts soon, sensei~ wink wonk :) :)! So, *bows* hontou ni arigatou gozaimashita, minasan~! (๑>◡<๑)

“Uwaaa! So many people have come here to see the fireworks~” your (e/c) eyes marveled at the bustling scene at the shrine. You and your male classmate decided to watch the big fireworks display at tonight’s summer festival. Honestly, it was a one-sided plan, as it was your idea to go there and you ordered him to come (much to his chagrin), so you dressed up in your yukatas and went to the nearby shrine.

“Nee, nee, Kozume-kun, how about—what are you doing?”

“Huh?” Your said classmate and the volleyball club’s official setter Kozume Kenma stared at you, his smartphone on hand. Probably playing games again.

“I already told you to stop playing with your phone while we’re here!” You tried to grab his phone from his hands, but he was swift to hide it behind his back. “Just for tonight, please have fun…”

Kenma slid his phone back to his pouch.

“But I am having fun, (l/n)-san,” he retorted.

You shook your head. “No, no! I mean, this—“ you raised your arms, “—kind of physical fun! I’m telling you, Kozume-kun, you’re missing a lot!”

You looked at him with determination and awe, pouting. Which, he thought, is cute. But he won’t tell you straight in the face. Not yet.

The puddinghead boy then sighed and meekly smiled. “Okay, fine, you won, (l/n)-san.”

“Yuss!” You did a peace sign, grinning.

The two of you walked side by side across the shrine’s stone pavement, checking on different stalls. “The fireworks display doesn’t start before seven,” you checked your phone’s time, which read 18:46. “Want to snack on something first?” you pointed at the nearest food stall situated beside a large tree.

Kenma nodded in agreement, and you two went towards. The stall sold all kinds of candied fruits and desserts, most particularly candy apples. “Which one do you li—?” You noticed him looking longingly at the shiny red display. Oh yeah, he loves apples and apple pie, you chuckled to yourself.

You handed him his candy apple. “Here, for you!”

The setter hesitantly took it, nearly touching your fingers. Even if he doesn’t show it on his face, Kenma’s golden orbs twinkled on the red and sticky dessert. “T-thanks. Here, let me pay for these—“

“Nope! Already paid for it,” you bit on your stick. The sweetness of the sugar coating complemented well with the tartness of the apple. You winked. “As compensation for bothering you yesterday about going here with me.”

He annoyingly narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you my employer?”

Five minutes till showtime, you pointed at the arching bridge across the pavement. “Hey, Kozume-kun, let’s go over there! I think that’s a perfect viewing spot.” You grabbed his wrist and walked faster. “C’mon!”

Both of you settled on your viewing spots—you leaning your arms on the wooden railing chewing on your candy apple, Kenma beside you leaning on his bottom i mean back with his stick, staring at his geta’d feet.

“Hm? Aren’t you gonna eat yours, Kozume-kun?” You glanced at him. “It’ll fall down if you keep on holding it like that.” You took another bite of your candy apple.

“Uh… yeah… I will.” He tucked some of his blonde locks on his ear and turned to you. “Itadakimasu.”

“...hrrmph?” Your mind went blank as he leaned towards you and bit on the opposite side of your candy apple (with your teeth still attached to it). Playful cat-like eyes stared at you. Your breath hitched, your heartbeat doubled.

Kenma leaned back, a smirk formed while licking the sugar off his lips. “Gochisousama.”

DON! DON DON!

Hearing the sound of fireworks brought you back to reality. Hard.

“K-k-k-k—“ you stuttered, a full-blown blushing mess yourself. “I-IDIOT, THAT’S AN INDIRECT KISS YOU’VE MADE!!”

Puddinghead shrugged it off, taking his first bite of his own candy apple. “So what if it is? I don’t mind doing it again with you.”

“Wha—“

“I like you, (y/n)-chan. I really, really like you.”

Bonus:

“Hey, Kenma-kun, when did you take this?” You grabbed his phone and pointed at the screen. He made a candid shot of you beaming as his phone’s lock screen wallpaper.

“Shortly after our arrival at the shrine last night,” he flushed slightly as you handed him his phone back. “You were kind of amazed seeing the place back then that I secretly took a snapshot of you. You looked cute there, by the way, (y/n)-chan!” Kenma winked at you, which made your face feel hot at your boyfriend’s action.

“Ahhhh mou~ stop teasing me, idiot! Delete it!”

“No can do.”

“Please~?!”

“No.”

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“Kenma—“

“No!”

[mbti-notes]

Greetings, I am a 75 year old grandma. I am writing because my grandson who is in his 20s won't work. I have been involved in mbti for many decades. I'm an ENFJ. My grandson is still living at home well into his 20s. When I tell him to get a job (over many years) he just tells me to cut him off and that he will be fine without a smartphone and sweet foods. He is very bright. Graduated with a 3.7 from University. He tried various interests, but nothing sticks. Do I kick him out? Its not my nature

[con’t: The actions I've taken to help my grandson is to show him various resources like holland code, personality theory, etc. so that he can find some direction of where to commit. Instead he just takes the holland code over and over again, and happily shows me that his interests vary everytime he takes it. Same with personality theory. He goes on your blog all the time to prove that he doesn't fit anywhere. Based off of that statement he sounds like IxFJ. My grandson resembles Ti loop (IFxJ), but he does not resemble any other aspect of being an FJ. He is relatively well decisive when it comes to everything in his life. The only issue is getting a job, getting on a path, but he rejects this. If he at least helped around the house it would be something, but he can be quite selfish and uncaring, yet at other times very caring. It vacillates. Anyway, please help if possible, I am perplexed.]

WRT His Type: 

I can’t draw a conclusion about his type without a full type assessment. Everything you’ve described is quite consistent with INFJ and Ni-Ti loop. It seems that you don’t understand tertiary loop very well. Ti loop is an unconscious repudiation of feeling, responsibility, and eventually, conscience. It amounts to a refusal to be the things that make FJs good and admirable people. Basically, the more severe the case of Ti loop, the more arrogant, narcissistic, and callous the INFJ becomes. 

If the INFJ is only at the stage of trying to suppress the vulnerability of feeling life, there is still a fair chance for them to turn their life around by developing better emotional intelligence to address the emotional immaturity. If the INFJ has reached the point of refusing personal responsibility, they will be preoccupied/obsessed with finding any excuse, and even creating enemies, to blame for the poor state of their life. At this point, they are impervious to facts and don’t respond well to advice. If the INFJ loses all self-awareness and manages to convince themselves that they are “special” and not subject to conventional rules and ethical boundaries, then the time for you to distance from them is nearing, as chronic Se grip will set in and produce reactive, aggressive, or extreme behavior. 

To get out of Ti loop requires genuine humility and reconnection with feeling life. The INFJ must take full responsibility for their decisions, correct the big mistakes that they have made in life, and atone for all the harm that they have caused. He does not seem to be capable of this at the moment. I explain Ti loop not to be an alarmist, but to give you a realistic view of how destructive tertiary loop can be, what rock bottom looks like for INFJs, and the signs to be wary of. If the relationship with him ever reaches a point where his mindset becomes toxic and harmful to you, it is important that you move to protect yourself.

WRT His Problem: 

Getting someone in the right frame of mind to make a change and tackle a big problem is very tricky business because you don’t want to try and fail too many times. If you’re correct about Ti loop, then the more times you try to help and fail, the more likely he is to retreat further into himself (and delusion). To avoid applying the wrong solution, it’s best to do some “intelligence gathering” first so that you understand the problem properly before proceeding.

Neither of you has gotten to the bottom of his “block”, i.e., the actual obstacle that is getting in the way of his advancement. You can’t solve a problem if you can’t identify the cause(s) of it. The cause can be internal, external, or a combination of factors. Getting him into aptitude/personality studies seems like a logical approach to the problem. However, this assumes that the underlying cause of the problem is that he doesn’t really know himself - is it, though? It’s not clear to me, from what you’ve said, that this is the root of the problem. There isn’t enough info for me to draw any conclusion and I don’t wish to speculate wildly about what his problem might be. He seems to have some deeper psychological issues going on. And this lack of knowledge about his motivations is probably the reason that you’re both having difficulty pinpointing his type.

Therefore, the first order of business is to examine the problem in depth to figure out what the true cause of it is. Is the nature of the employment problem practical, psychological, educational, social, etc? Once you have an accurate grasp of the problem, then think on the right solution to it, or get help from someone with the expertise to determine the right solution. Note that if he is already at the point of avoiding responsibility and making excuses to manipulate reality, he himself will be blind to the real problem.

WRT Your Decision: 

The last point I want to make is about you and your feelings. It sounds like he is suffering from some form of arrested development because he still has the mentality of a child. Academic GPA means nothing without emotional maturity and life skills. His behavior indicates that he depends on you but is also spoiled in taking your support for granted. This means that the more you try to support/help him, the more you may be enabling his unhealthy behavior and preventing him from becoming truly independent. 

It is in his best interests to learn how to be a responsible adult because he will not always have someone to lean on in life (especially since Ti loop is very destructive to relationships). This should happen sooner rather than later, because the longer someone stays stuck in a rut, the harder it is to change, as inertia deepens. This is especially true in terms of employment because doors close and opportunities gradually dry up the older one gets. For the sake of his continued personal growth, he has to learn how to face up to his life’s problems and resolve them. But it sounds like he’s not willing to do that without being compelled to. He explicitly said to cut him off, which is basically like telling mama bird that he’s not going to jump off the tree and fly until he gets pushed off. Push him. Yes, he could have some psychological issue going on, but he’s also using your support to avoid facing up to it. If this is true, then you need to step BACK and allow him to step up for himself.

Should you kick him out? I understand that, from your perspective, this path would be the last resort, because it would violate your moral sensibilities and perhaps damage the relationship. But the fact that you’re at the point of considering it means that you’ve been dealing with this situation for far too long without making any progress. Please take some time to address how much this situation stresses YOU. Otherwise, your feelings may eventually boil over and possess you to do something you regret.

The fairest approach to this situation is to treat him like you would treat anyone else. In other words, stop giving him preferential treatment, especially if he doesn’t appreciate it and thus doesn’t deserve it. (Preferential treatment is reserved for people who are putting in their best effort but still falling short due to factors beyond their control.) If he wants to live under someone else’s roof, he has to contribute his fair share, as any adult would be expected to do (rent, bills, food, etc). If he wants to use/share your space, he has to help with cleaning and maintenance so that the workload is fairly distributed, as any adult would be expected to do. If he wants to have a relationship with you, then he has to reciprocate to make the friendship equal, as any adult would be expected to do. If it were anyone else, you would draw lines and boundaries about what kinds of behavior you would tolerate, wouldn’t you? I hope you would. If you're a doormat, it makes your relationship dynamic with him codependent and even more unhealthy. 

**A healthy relationship must have boundaries. Personal boundaries must be respected to justify continued investment in the relationship. If someone doesn’t respect your needs and boundaries, they don’t respect you, and they’re proving themselves unworthy of your continued effort. Until someone proves that they are worthy of your trust and support, it is best to maintain emotional distance from them, for your own safety and psychological well-being.**

It’s time for you to step up for yourself and how you feel. Make your needs and desires matter just as much as his, which means drawing the lines, setting the boundaries, and enforcing the rules that you need for honoring your existence. Yes, it would be nice if everyone just knew how to respect each other, but that’s not the case. If a relationship is hurting you, then it’s necessary to practice proper self-care and correct what is wrong. It’s not about being controlling but about respecting you and what is yours. If he can’t abide by your rules and boundaries, he is an adult and free to set his own rules elsewhere. Don’t forget that if you let him walk all over you, you’re implicitly confirming to him that exploitation is normal and acceptable relationship behavior.

1) Devaluing your needs is a disservice to yourself and puts you in the backseat of this relationship to be hurt and exploited, and 2) devaluing your needs is a disservice to him, because taking advantage of your generosity allows him to continue on with unhealthy behavior. I’ve given a few possibilities above and it’s up to you to take the path that you think is best for both parties.

[somegirlsnerdywords2]

Manga/ Manhwa/ Webtoons i’ve Read

Completed titles starting with the letters C, D, G, or H!

I remember most manga even less than the oldest anime i’ve watched unless it was properly amazing so i’m not even going to bother attempting a review of any sort for these guys. In this posts i’ll simply be sharing with you any titles i’ve given a 9 or 10 rating to... as you can imagine some were read quite a few years ago so who’s to say i’d give all of them the same rating today! Let’s go!

Can’t See Can’t Hear But Love - 10/10 - 83 Chapters

Genres: comedy, drama, romance, slice of life, seinen

Synopsis:  Min Geun Soo, a manhwa artist, lives with his special-needs mother who seems to suffer from an intellectual disability and cannot perform the most basic of activities, such as using the toilet or even brushing her teeth. He draws day and night to support them, working himself ragged and straining his eyes in the process. However, one unfortunate day, he completely loses his eyesight. The future seems bleak for a manhwa artist who can no longer draw. All seems to be going downhill, when one day, he meets Jeon So Ri. So Ri is a deaf girl, and happens to be in love with Geun Soo's work. Thus begins a love story between a deaf woman and a blind man about finding the strength and will to live despite numerous trials. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

Dame na Watashi ni Koishite Kudasai - 10/10 - 43 Chapters

Genres: comedy, romance, josei

Synopsis:  Recently unemployed, 29-year-old Michiko Shibata has barely any money left and so must survive solely on cabbages. With no qualifications and little experience for her age, all of her job interviews have been unfruitful. Despite this, she continues to splurge on expensive gifts for her young "boyfriend" in the hopes that her romantic interest will someday marry and support her. Eventually, Shibata finds out that her feelings are one-sided, for her boyfriend has been lying and using her for money.

At the lowest point of her life, she unexpectedly reunites with Ayumu Kurosawa, her strict former boss whom she resents. Feeling responsible for her unemployment, Kurosawa agrees to help Shibata and once again becomes her employer.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

Gozen 3-ji no Muhouchitai - 9/10 - 15 Chapters

Genres: comedy, romance, josei

Synopsis:  Momoko Nanase wants to be an illustrator, so it is unclear why she remains at a company that designs materials for pachinko parlors. The work is difficult and unrelated to her aspirations, assignments accumulate quickly, her coworkers range from the eccentric to the perverted, and all-nighters are common if not mandatory. The only times Momoko sees her boyfriend are when she sleeps over at his apartment, leading them to gradually grow apart. He and Momoko's female friends urge her to quit while she is still new and not yet burnt out. But despite having written a resignation letter, she keeps it in her desk drawer and is hesitant to turn it in. One night, Momoko has a rooftop encounter with Masashi Tagaya, who works on the same floor in their building. She confides in him about her intention to quit, only to be told that the people who say that usually end up staying until the end. As time passes, Momoko questions if and when she should leave, as well as whether she wants to know Tagaya better. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

Hana no Miyako de - 9/10 - 5 Chapters

Genres: drama, historical, romance, yaoi

Synopsis: Hana no Miyako de

 Motoharu Tsujimura and Akira Hazumi belong to different social classes, but despite that, they have been friends since childhood. A rift grows between them when Motoharu confesses his love to Akira and is rejected, yet even this is not enough to completely drive them apart. When Akira, who is greatly interested in botany, chooses a certain university at which to study agriculture, Motoharu follows him to the same school and department. One afternoon, Akira asks to walk home together with Motoharu, like they used to do—only this time, Akira intends to discuss something important that will impact both their futures. Hana no Migoro ni Youichi Arikawa and Shouta Misaki came to know each other when they both served as assistants to Professor Tsujimura in his agricultural laboratory. The two of them fell in love, and now they live together in the old house that Misaki inherited from his late grandfather Akira. Having grown older and graduated from university, Arikawa and Misaki experience new strains on their relationship, different from the ones they are used to. Outside the walls of their home, they are regarded as friends and roommates. Arikawa's mother wants the two to visit during a holiday weekend, but though Arikawa proposes to tell her that he and Misaki are going out, the latter prefers to keep the truth silent. Unexpectedly, Arikawa's older sister returns home on the same weekend. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

Hana nomi zo Shiru - 9/10 - 13 Chapters

Genres: drama, romance, yaoi

Synopsis:  In a series of chance encounters, university students Youichi Arikawa and Shouta Misaki are brought together. When they meet very briefly for the first and second time, Arikawa is not wearing the proper lenses needed to correct his terrible eyesight. All he has to remember Misaki by is a fuzzy impression of his figure and a necklace with a glass flower pendant that he dropped before hurrying away. Even though they never introduced themselves, Arikawa dreams of Misaki repeatedly, somehow knowing what name to call out in his sleep. When he meets Misaki for a third time, now with clear vision, Arikawa finally sees his face and confirms his name. Although Arikawa is unsure why he is so strongly infatuated by this person, he knows for certain that he cherishes the man in his dreams, so he candidly confesses to Misaki! Can love at first sight strike as strangely as this? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

Hana to Rakurai - 9/10 - 8 Chapters

Genres: romance, school, shoujo

Synopsis:  The story centers on Umiho, a high school girl who has a crush on schoolmate Namose, a boy from a different class whom Umiho manages to meet through an integrated math class. Because Namose is often busy with club work, he always uses Umiho's notes to study, and she falls in love with him after spending time together. But after Namose drops out of the class due to bad grades and they are separated, Umiho is saddened. At that point, she meets and befriends Yachiyo, a girl who supports Umiho in pursuing a relationship with Namose. (Source: ANN)

Hirunaka no Ryuusei -9/10 - 86 Chapters

Genres: comedy, romance, school, shoujo, slice of life

Synopsis:  Suzume Yosano has spent the entire 15 years of her life in the countryside, so when her parents decide to move overseas for work and leave her with her uncle in Tokyo, she finds herself in a whole new environment. On the way to her uncle's house, however, she gets lost and faints. Waking up safely at her uncle's house, she learns that a strange man had carried her there and that he happens to be an acquaintance of her uncle. Moreover, when Suzume goes to her new school for the first time, she discovers that the weird man in question, named Satsuki Shishio, is actually her homeroom teacher! Now, Suzume must adapt to her new school and make friends, since her blossoming high school life in the city has just begun! [Written by MAL Rewrite]