#reflexive relation class 12

[edusquaremaths]

Q10 Exercise1.1 I Class 12 Maths NCERT Chapter 1 Relations and Functions | NCERT solutions

NCERT Class 12Chapter: Relations and FunctionsExercise 1.1Question 10: Give an example of a relation. Which is(i) Symmetric but neither reflexive nor transitive.(ii) Transitive but neither reflexive nor symmetric.(iii) Reflexive and symmetric but not transitive.(iv) Reflexive and transitive but not symmetric.(v) Symmetric and transitive but not reflexive.

[hondakiku]

I did a thing. I went on the Hetalia wiki and the d20pfsrd site and Chat GPT and made ruff NPC stats for Pathfinder 1e for every Hetalia character. Not full stats mind you but just the bare bones like race, class and level so I can tweak them if necessary but here are Japan and Germany for you.

Japan

Race: Human (Variant)

Reasoning: Japan is depicted as a refined and cultured individual, which can be represented well by using a variant human that gives a bonus feat or skill.

Classes:

Ninja (Advanced Class)

Justification: The Ninja class can reflect Japan's stealth, discipline, and martial prowess. It emphasizes agility and cunning, which aligns well with Japan's character traits. Ninjas embody the stealth and secretive aspects often associated with Japan.

Monk (Core Class)

Justification: The Monk class embodies Japan’s calm demeanor, focus, and mastery of martial arts. This class complements the Ninja by providing additional unarmed combat abilities and a spiritual connection, fitting for Japan’s cultural background.

Wizard (Occultist)

Justification: Japan has a rich cultural history that includes various mystical elements, such as Shinto and Buddhist beliefs. The Wizard class can represent Japan's scholarly nature and attachment to tradition and ritual. An Occultist variant could emphasize their connection to supernatural aspects of their culture.

Level: 10

Rationale: Level 10 provides a balance between representing Japan's capabilities in combat and their intellectual pursuits. It allows enough versatility and resourcefulness without becoming overpowered in a typical campaign setting.

NPC Build Overview

Name: Japan Race: Human (Variant) Classes:

Level 4 Ninja

Level 5 Monk

Level 1 Wizard (Occultist)

Ability Score Highlights:

Strength: 14 (good for melee combat)

Dexterity: 18 (emphasizing stealth and agility as a Ninja)

Constitution: 12

Intelligence: 16 (for spellcasting and wisdom)

Wisdom: 14 (important for Monk abilities)

Skills:

Stealth

Acrobatics

Knowledge (Arcana)

Knowledge (History)

Sense Motive

Feats:

Improved Unarmed Strike

Weapon Finesse

Combat Reflexes

Equipment:

Traditional katana (masterwork in-game)

Monk's robe (with magical properties, if desired)

Spellbook with cultural spells (like illusions or transmutation)

Germany

Race: Human (Standard) Humans are versatile and adaptable, making them a suitable choice for a character that exhibits qualities of efficiency and leadership.

Classes:

Fighter (Signature Style: Two-Weapon Fighting)

Germany is known for being disciplined and reliable, which fits well with the Fighter class. His proficiency in combat represents his strong military background.

Paladin (Oath of Duty)

While not explicitly religious, Germany embodies the ideals of duty and honor. The Paladin class fits his personality of order, responsibility, and leadership. The Oath of Duty aspect can reflect his commitment to protecting those he cares about.

Stalwart Defender (Prestige Class)

This prestige class symbolizes Germany's defensive and protective nature. It encapsulates his role as a defender of his allies and a steadfast figure in times of conflict.

Level: 10 (Fighter 5 / Paladin 4 / Stalwart Defender 1)

Character Traits:

Alignment: Lawful Neutral. Germany values order, efficiency, and discipline above all else, often reflecting a strong adherence to duty and responsibility.

Attributes: High Strength and Constitution (representing physical prowess), decent Wisdom (for leadership and insight), and moderate Strength (to reflect combat ability).

Key Skills:

Intimidate: Reflects Germany's serious demeanor and strong presence.

Diplomacy: While primarily serious, Germany does have moments of warmth, especially towards his allies.

Sense Motive: To reflect his ability to assess situations and people, fitting with his military leadership.

Equipment:

Armor: Full Plate Armor

Weapons:

A +1 Longsword (representing his combat skill)

Masterwork Shield (for defense)

Special Abilities:

Fighter: Bonus feats related to combat and weapon proficiency.

Paladin: Lay on Hands, Detect Evil, and Divine Grace; reflecting his protective and honorable persona.

Stalwart Defender: "Defensive Stance" ability, allowing him to serve as a solid defender in combat situations.

[wereplant]

I’ve been working on a rat-related class for awhile now and I think I finally perfected it. Enjoy!

Corpse-fed Scvmrat

You filled your slavering gullet with the rotten flesh of the dead and it has taken a monstrous toll. Much larger and more cunning than a mere flea-bitten pest, you have skulked in the shadows observing the ways of man. Perhaps now is the time the rats take their rightful place.

Begins with 1d6x10 scavenged silver and d3 omens.

HP: Toughness +d6

From what filth hast thou crawled? (d6):

1. The moldering, bone-littered catacombs of Bergen Chrypt.

2. A reeking offal cart that was struck by lightning.

3. Beneath the rotting floorboards of a wizard’s laboratory.

4. Within the writhing bowels of a possessed saint.

5. The toxic cesspit of a cannibal’s abattoir.

6. Birthed from a bloated rat-sow in a dank Grift alleyway.

Abilities

Rodent reflexes, roll 3d6+2 for Agility.

Measly, roll 3d6-2 for Strength.

Gnawing Doom: You can treat corpses as rations. Your teeth are quite sharp (DR 10, d4 damage; chip a tooth on a fumble: -1 damage with bite until you rest again).

Varmint Tongue: You can communicate with rats and mice and you have eavesdropped on the common folk long enough to learn their language. You are illiterate, but you can spend a use of your Powers to eat a scroll (DR 12 Toughness) to use it as normal.

Lowly Vermin: You are feared and despised by most people (reduce Reaction tests by 2), though ne’er-do-wells and outcasts may be less judgmental. All cats hate your guts (they deal +1 damage to you, targeting your eyes and throat).

Roll d6 on the weapon table and d2 on the armor table. Roll d6 to determine what verminous gift has been bestowed upon you:

Verminous Gifts (d6):

1. Scurrying Menace: You can roll Agility for ranged attacks, your bite and one-handed weapons.

2. Rodent of Unusual Size: You gain a +1 bonus to Strength and your bite deals d6 damage. When you get better, roll d8 + Toughness for HP.

3. Plague Rat: Tests to resist infection and poisons have their DR reduced by 2. Anyone bitten by you or that comes in contact with your bodily fluids must succeed a DR 12 Toughness or fall ill (-1 to all rolls until healed with a life elixir or medical chest).

4. Mole-Rat: You can burrow through the ground (not solid stone) as quickly as you can walk. Unfortunately, your eyesight is terrible (increase the DR for ranged attacks and sight-based Presence tests by 2).

5. Wormy Tail: Your tail can grab and manipulate objects as easily as your hands. If you wield a one-handed weapon with your tail, you can attack twice per round.

6. Scvm…BAT??: You have a pair of leathery wings and can fly short distances, but you cannot wear armor.

[class12maths]

Relations and Functions: Class 12 Maths Video Tutorials — Mathyug

Are you a Class 12 student gearing up for your Maths exams? Do the concepts of relations and functions seem daunting? Fret not! Ashish Sir from MathYug has designed an exceptional self-study course that covers everything you need to master these topics. This comprehensive course includes video tutorials, detailed notes, and assignments that ensure thorough understanding and practice.

What You’ll Learn

Ashish Sir’s course on MathYug is meticulously structured to provide a deep understanding of relations and functions, a crucial component of Class 12 Mathematics. The course is divided into two main parts:

1. Relations

In this segment, you will explore various types of relations. Here’s a brief overview of what you’ll learn:

Empty Relations: Understanding the concept of relations where no element of a set is related to any element of another set.

Universal Relations: Learning about relations where every element of a set is related to every element of another set.

Trivial Relations: Delving into the simplest form of relations that only relate to the identical pairs.

Reflexive Relations: Understanding relations where every element is related to itself.

Symmetric Relations: Exploring relations where if one element is related to another, the second element is also related to the first.

Transitive Relations: Learning about relations where if one element is related to a second, and the second to a third, then the first is related to the third.

Equivalence Relations: Discovering relations that are reflexive, symmetric, and transitive.

Equivalence Classes: Understanding the partition of a set into disjoint subsets where each subset is an equivalence class.

To ensure comprehensive understanding, the course provides practice questions from diverse sources such as NCERT Textbook exercises, NCERT Examples, Board’s Question Bank, RD Sharma, and NCERT Exemplar. You can download the PDF of assignments within the course for additional practice.

2. Functions

The second part of the course focuses on functions, including:

One to One and Onto Functions: Understanding functions where each element of one set is paired with a unique element of another set, and functions that map elements from one set onto every element of another set.

Composite Functions: Learning how to combine two functions to form a new function.

Inverse of a Function: Exploring how to find the function that reverses the effect of the original function.

Similar to the relations segment, this part also includes practice questions from various reputable sources. The assignments are designed to reinforce your understanding and are available for download within the course.

Sample Videos

To give you a glimpse of the quality of instruction, Ashish Sir has shared sample videos covering some of these essential topics. Watching these will help you understand his teaching methodology and the depth of content provided.

If you’re aiming to excel in your Class 12 Maths exams, Ashish Sir’s course on MathYug is your go-to resource. With detailed video tutorials, comprehensive notes, and extensive assignments, you will gain a solid understanding of relations and functions. Start your journey towards mastering these crucial topics today!

For more information and to access the course, visit MathYug. Happy learning!

[mathyug]

Unlock a deeper understanding of Reflexive, Symmetric, Transitive, and Equivalence Relations, and master Exercise 1.1 in Relations and Functions Class 12 Maths with expert instructor Ashish Sir on MathYug.Explore additional video lectures on our website: https://mathyug.com/class-12-maths

[cackled0g]

Danke for the tag @somethingintheforest 1.) Are you named after anyone? Yes and no. My first name is one I picked because it sounded badass, but my middle name (which is also the one I go by online) was originally my fursona's name that I adopted for myself after realizing that I liked it when people called me that. 2.) When was the last time you cried? Excluding panic attacks, like nine years ago. I have liked a weird mental block around crying, I just physically can't do it. 3.) Do you have kids? Haha. No. 4.) Do you use sarcasm a lot? I'm both an incredibly sarcastic person and a person with a very flat affect, so sometimes people can't tell if I'm being genuine or not. 5.) What sports do you play/have played? Oh jeez, a lot. I was in teeball (like baseball for little kids) since I started school, and graduated to softball afterwards. I played soccer on and off throughout my childhood for various rec leagues and also played it for a year in highschool before I got kicked in the head (f) and wasn't allowed to play sports anymore. These days I occasionally play baseball or kickball with my family or friends but I'm not on any teams. 6.) What's the first thing you notice about people? Depends on the person, I guess, and how I met them. Generally I would say their voice, though. 7.) What's your eye color? I have partial heterochromia, so I have primarily blue eyes, but my right eye has a brown blotch in it. 8.) Scary movies or happy endings? Exposing myself as a hack here, but I hate watching movies in general. My parents used to make us all sit down and watch shitty Christian flicks and it killed the experience for me. On the rare occasion I do watch anything it's usually related to my special interest at the time. Overall I guess I'm more of a happy ending enjoyer. 9.) Any special talents? I have really good hand-eye coordination and reflexes because I played sports so much as a kid. I write and draw as well, but ymmv with that. 10.) Where were you born? What are you, a cop? 11.) What are your hobbies? Language learning, skateboarding, drawing, writing, video gaming, making yt videos. I have a dedicated game room in my house with a ton of classic consoles. 12.) Do you have any pets? I have a horrible little Schnauzer named Curry and a fat white cat named Pearl. 13.) How tall are you? 5'8" or 5'9" last time I checked. 14.) Favorite subject in school? I have a lot of beef with the US system of public schooling, and really didn't enjoy a lot of my time in school. I did have an awesome AP Language and Literature teacher though, and I adored those classes. I think I was built to be given four slices of paper and a pen and be given 45 minutes to write an essay. I love writing essays. 15.) Dream job? Ideally I'd love to be an author, but I'm also interested in law. If the system weren't so corrupt I'd put more serious thought into being an attorney. I try not to define myself by my jobs, though, and try to view them as nothing but a way to get money for my hobbies. Tagging: @posssums @geeoharee @wirethroat @babyblueavenger (No pressure!) Sidenote: I love being tagged it stuff like this, @ all mutuals feel free to do this!

[dp-marvel94]

I am you (and you are me)

For Invisobang 2021. Art by @bibliophilea

On AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Summary: Set post Kindred Spirits. Something has been different since Danny came back from Vlad's and it started when the older half ghost had the tiny clone overshadow him. The half ghost remembers: His own screams. A pain in his inmost being, in his core. A tug back and forth. Being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... the blackness of death.

Danny comes back from the experience changed, with the memories of two lives stuffed in his head and new powers. The fire powers are pretty cool but shrinking, often involuntarily, makes him feel weak and vulnerable. All of it, the powers and memories, terrify him as he learns what they mean. And the thought of telling his loved ones...How can the half ghost hope that Jazz, Sam, and Tucker will understand and accept him now when he himself cannot?

Warnings and Tags: Self harm, Identity confusion, Self-Hatred, Ectoplasm and melting clones related gore, Clone Angst, Nightmares, Memory Issues, Involuntary Shrinking. Panic Attacks, Frostbite is Danny’s Icedad.  Evil Vlad Masters, Bad Parent Vlad Masters, Split Danny, Ghost Catcher, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual acceptance (by Danny and by his loved ones). Sibling Bonding, Friendship, Danny finally gets a hug.

Note: Welcome to my Invisobang fic! This is a semi-sequel to my story "Nothing and Everything." It's set directly after that story, though assuming an alternative ending. It is not necessary to read the older story to understand this one. All you need to know is, it deals with the aftermath of Danny being overshadowed by one of the clone's in Kindred Spirits and the emotional impact of the experience.

All that being said, big thanks to my amazing artist @bibliophilea for the amazing comic, and for beta reading! Thanks to @welcome-tothe-mystery-shack  for your comments and feedback on this story. And finally, a huge thanks to my dearest sister @nervousdragonrebelpie for looking over chapters and listening to me ramble about this story for the past few months. I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without you.

Preview Below:

Chapter 1:

“No! I’m a person. People have names! I have to have a name. I’m not….” A sob tried to break free from his throat.

A knock suddenly rattled the door. “Danny!” Mom called.

Both boy’s heads popped up, focusing on the door. They turned to face each other. “Don’t do this.” The real Danny begged.

“What?” The being asked.

“Every time you get close to the truth, you dream up a distraction.” His eyes widened in desperate panic. “Please don’t-”

Danny’s eyes popped open, a dream swirling in his mind. His heart raced, the sheets sticking to his sweaty body. His brow wrinkled, one shaking hand moving up to rub his aching head. Aching…. He still had that damn headache.

The boy closed his eyes, trying to push the pain away, to coax his heart rate down. He breathed. In and out. In and out. Slowly, so slowly, the throb in his head dimmed, his heart calming. But still, anxiety ate up his insides. 

Blearily, the boy opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Dissatisfied, he groaned and rolled onto his side. He clenched and unclenched his fists, balling up the fabric on his bed. His bed. Yes, this was his bed…. Sleeping in a bed was so nice and comfortable but at the same time... something about it felt…. off.

The boy pinched his eyes closed, trying to make sense of the feeling. His stomach flopped. Something was off. Something was different. After today, after he’d come back from Vlad’s, after the man kidnapped him, after the man clo-

Danny cut off the cursed word, his mind refusing. He buried his face in his pillow. Vlad’s. Something had happened, something had.. had changed at Vlad’s but he couldn’t... quite... remember.

It flashed in images. Being locked in a pod. Electrocution. His own screams. Pain. A pain in his inmost being, in his core…. On the bed, Danny’s core throbbed at the thought… A tug back and forth. Then being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... blackness.

He’d passed out. Danny knew that much. And he’d woken up at some point later but everything between that and when he had arrived home was a blur.

Confusion. His head swimming. Danielle.. sister… frowning in worry. The hiss of the pod being released. A sigh of relief. An ectoblast. Twisted metal and glass. Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm on his hands, on the floor. Oh god, oh god. He hadn’t meant to do that. He wasn’t... the others weren’t supposed to…. weren't supposed to...

Vlad... Master... Vlad... glaring in pure hatred. “Get behind me.” His ears ringing with a scream. The older halfa being knocked into his shelves. His knees wobbling. He fell and turned human. (Human... why did the fact that he could do that make him so happy?) But then horror. Vlad was still up and moving.

Then Sam and Tucker crashed through, hitting the older man. Locking Vlad (Master) in a pod. He needs... he needs to find Danielle. He needs to find his baby sister. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

His friends’ worried faces. “Danny, you’re not making any sense.” “Hey! Hey! Stay with us!” He wobbled…. where was Danielle?..... falling forward….. Sam and Tucker caught him.

At some point later, he’d woken up on his bed with worried friends and sister who he couldn’t adequately comfort. His head had been pounding and he couldn’t remember what happened to him… and what he did remember made little sense. Sam had checked his eyes; he didn’t have a concussion or any other injuries. With his head throbbing, he’d dismissed the confusion as being from the stress of the kidnapping and electrocution. His friends believed him, though anxiety was plain on their faces. But after a few minutes, his friends had said their goodbyes, leaving him to get some much needed sleep.

But now, the night after, Danny laid on his bed. His headache was gone, his mind clearer. He should feel better yet... his heart was sinking like a stone in his chest. That dream. That dream. That was familiar. So familiar. Like it had really happened. Like... it meant something. And yet…. Danny yawned, sudden tiredness overtaking him. He closed his eyes.

Maybe this was the ramblings of a sleep deprived brain. Yeah, maybe he was just tired. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and everything would be okay. The boy pulled his covers more tightly around himself and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning, after quickly getting ready for school and rushing off, found Danny at his locker. The boy frowned, wracking his brain. What was his locker combination again? He spun the lock, landing on 25. That was the first number, right? Then….56. And finally….12? The lock clicked and he pulled the door open.

Danny sighed. Why was that so hard to remember? He’d had to open his locker just yesterday. He should remember… but why did that feel like a lifetime ago?

“Hey! Danny!” Tucker’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Danny gasped in surprise. In his chest, his core swelled and his body reflexively flickered invisible. A second later, he reappeared, rubbing his chest.

The next thing he knew, Sam was at his side. “What was that?”

“Yeah.” His technogeek friend took a step forward, voice quieting. “Your powers haven’t slipped up like that in months.”

Danny frowned, shaking his head. “I guess... I guess I’m still kinda shook up after….” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Sam’s face softened, seeming to understand. “Do you feel any better?” She asked kindly.

The halfa’s brow wrinkled. “Well, my headache’s gone.”

“You do look better.” The goth commented, her brow furrowing with worry. “You looked rough last night.”

“Yeah, you were really out of it too.” Tucker frowned. “You kept asking where someone called Danielle was? And for your sister?” Clear confusion rang out in his voice and just a hint of teasing…. “We kept telling you Jazz was at home, covering for us.” as if the idea that he was worried about his older sister, when she wasn’t even involved, was funny.

But something in the recollection made Danny shiver. He remembered worrying about Danielle. But…. sister... he hadn’t been talking about Jazz. He’d been asking about another girl, with blue eyes and-

“Then you passed out.” Sam continued. “And we took you home.”

For a too long moment, his friends looked at him questioningly. Finally, Danny bit his lip. “I think I remember that.”

The confirmation seemed to encourage his friends. “That’s good.” Said Tucker.

Danny wasn’t sure it was. But he had no more time to think on it before the bell rang and they were walking to their first class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During lunch period, Danny sat down at their familiar table, the same one as yesterday and every day since the start of freshman year. He placed down his tray and looked over the tables, waiting for Sam and Tucker to join him.

The boy’s brow furrowed. The cafeteria looked the same as every day. The same as yesterday when…. Danielle phasing through the table, a tiny green speck racing passed him…. At the lunch table, Danny’s core pulsed anxiously. Yes, that had happened but at the same time…. Looking back at the two chasing him. Laughing without sound at their fun game.

Danny shivered, feeling cold. He rubbed his chest, nervously.

“Danny?” Someone was waving a hand in front of his face. “Danny? You with us man?”

The halfa blinked and turned, meeting Tucker’s eyes. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“What’s with the spaciness?” Sam said bluntly. She stabbed at her salad. “You were like that all during English too.”

“Was I?” The boy questioned. He shook his head. “Sorry. Just... thinking about stuff.”

His friends gave him worried looks but didn’t question him. Frankly, it was to Danny’s relief. He couldn’t seem to put his thoughts in order. He couldn’t explain this... weird feeling. 

The friends chatted for most of the lunch period, Sam and Tucker dominating the conversation with a debate about the newest Doomed update.

All the while Danny idly rubbed at his chest with one hand. He picked at his cheese fries. Normally they were pretty good, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He shivered again, flinching as his fork fell through his intangible hand.

“Again?” Tucker questioned with a raised brow.

Danny didn’t respond, instead picking up his fork only for his core to flare and the utensil to fall through his fingers again. With an annoyed grumble, the boy rubbed his chest again.

“Do you think something’s up with your powers?” Sam quietly asked.

The halfa looked up, frowning. “No... I mean…”

The goth pointed. “Danny, you keep rubbing your chest.”

Danny looked down, brow furrowing. Below his palm, his core pulsed. There was something… strange about the rhythm and…. he adjusted the position, pressing just the smallest bit harder. Normally, it fit comfortably under his palm but now... “It’s... bigger?” He muttered.

“What?” Tucker asked.

Danny lowered his hand. “My core?” He shook his head. “No... I’m imagining it.” His core pulsed unhappily, even as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

Sam and Tucker again looked like they wanted to argue, but the bell rang and they split up, each hurrying to their next class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the school day was surprisingly normal. Just his typical classes, without even a ghost fight to interrupt his day. Danny should have felt relieved for such a chill day after what happened last night but yet…. The boy tapped his pencil on his desk. He felt anxious. He must still be shook up, like he told his friends this morning. 

Danny bit his lip, shaking the writing instrument in his hand again. It went flying out of his grip and clattered onto the floor. The boy huffed as he bent down to grab it. His hand hadn’t even turned intangible this time.

With that, the boy straightened in his seat. He glanced at the clock. 20 more minutes left in class. Just 20 minutes. Then he could go home and take a nap. He rubbed his eyes. He was still tired after getting back so late. Maybe some sleep would help him feel better.

Soon enough, the bell rang. Danny stood and walked to his locker. This time, he remembered the combination without wracking his brain. He pulled out his books and turned to his friends, who were collecting their own belongings.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Danny said.

“Yeah, see you later.” Tucker replied.

“Call us if something comes up with the ghosts.” Sam frowned. “I’m grounded but…. I’ll sneak out if you need me.”

The technogeek groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m grounded too.”

The halfa looked down guiltily. “Sorry.” He bit his lip. “You guys shouldn’t be grounded because you had to save my sorry butt.”

“It’s fine.” Sam comforted. “We weren’t not going to save you. We’re your friends.”

“Yeah.” Tucker agreed. “It’s just the price to pay for being superheroes.”

Danny half-smiled, though he didn’t much feel like it. He wasn’t much of a hero. Guilt still choked his heart. He hated getting his friends in trouble. But still…. “Thanks for having my back.”

“No problem.” Tucker confirmed.

Then down the hall, someone called his name. “Danny?”

The boy turned. It was his sister, Jazz. He frowned. Oh right, he hadn’t talked to her since he’d been half out of it last night.

The girl quickly approached. “There you are. Come on. I’m driving you home.”

Jazz didn’t give him a choice as she started leading him towards the entrance. Danny waved at his friends, watching their worried faces until he turned the corner. 

Less than two minutes later, the pair were seated in Jazz’s car. The girl didn’t start the vehicle, instead turning to face her brother. “Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“I... Uh…” Danny stuttered, trying to collect his thoughts.

“You disappeared during the middle of school. Sam and Tucker said some weird ghost girl showed up. You went off to fight some ghost and the next thing they knew, Vlad was carrying you away.”

The boy crossed his arms. “It sounds like you already know what happened.” He muttered.

Jazz pinned a serious look. “I know Vlad kidnapped you but…. what did he do to you?”

Danny paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something happened. You were unconscious when Sam and Tucker got back. And you were super out of it when you woke up. But you weren’t physically hurt. What did Vlad do to you?” His sister pushed.

Danny swallowed, his stomach flopping. “I... I don’t…. It’s fuzzy….” 

Jazz rose a brow, her tone suggesting she knew there was more to it. “Danny.”

The boy flinched. “I... he... Vlad electrocuted me?” He remembered. Being locked in a pod, electricity running through him. The creepy hologram of his mom. But... but... there was more.

His sister paled. “Oh... I’m so sorry.” Her voice softened and she didn’t say anything for a while, then… “Do you know why he did that?”

Danny stiffened, looking up. The reason sparked in his mind, with the image. Vlad hissing in front of him, boasting his plan. The man had explained but…. the words stayed just out of reach. Danny's face set in a pointed frown. He shook his head.

Jazz’s own frown deepened. “That little girl…. Sam and Tucker said she looked just like you in ghost form. What does she have to do with all this?”

The boy avoided her eyes, heart fluttering nervously. The little girl.... her face snapped into focus in his mind. Danielle, that was her name. But... there was another word. Started with an S or…. a C. She was like him; she was a clo-

Danny shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Well…. part of it was right. Danielle had been there. She’d been helping Vlad. She helped the man hurt him; painful betrayal stabbed at him from the thought. But at the same time…

“She helped me. She helped me fight Vlad.” The half ghost said quietly, awed realization sparking as he remembered.

“But… who was she?” Jazz asked, equally quietly.

Just like that, the boy paled again. The word, the cursed word, formed in his mind without his permission. Clone. She was a clone of…. him?... No... that didn’t sound right... he was the same as her but... it had to be true. His frown deepened.

“Who was she?” His older sister asked again.

The boy shivered. “I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Danny.” Her voice softened. “You can tell me. It’s-”

“I... I can’t... I don’t wanna talk about it.” He focused on his hands in his lap, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Clearly, whatever happened is bothering you. You can tell me.”

“No. I-” Danny bit his lip, reaching for the door. He couldn’t stay in here with her, couldn’t deal with the questions he had no answers for or rather... questions he couldn’t bear to answer. The… the c word... he couldn’t say it, could barely think it. How could he explain how everything felt wrong, like he wasn’t actually-

“Wait.” Jazz cut off his thoughts. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. Just... let me drive you home.”

The boy lowered his hand and slumped back in his seat. “You... you promise? You won’t press?”

His sister’s brow furrowed. Her face was tight, like she didn’t want to agree; but after a long moment, she sighed. “Alright. I promise.”

Danny nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Jazz turned the car on, put it into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove home in silence. Once they arrived, the boy went straight up to his room. He rubbed his head, flopping down onto his bed. He needed... he needed a nap. Yeah…. That was it. He was still tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sister smiled down at him. “Look at this!” The black haired girl held up her crayon drawing. “This is me.” She pointed. “And Muscles. And Bones. And Daniel.” Her smile widened as she tapped at the last figure. “And this is you.”

The being tilted his head. He floated up, placing small hands on the green figure on the paper. He blinked owlishly up at the girl.

The corner of the girl's mouth turned down. She placed down the paper and offered him a crayon. “Come on. You try.”

The tiny being hovered forward, reaching out to touch the crayon. It was so big, almost half as tall as he was. He frowned, trying to understand.

“Make yourself a little bigger and you’ll be able to hold it.” She encouraged. “Come on. You can do it.”

The being scrunched his brow and he stretched. He was about the size of a toddler, maybe two and a half feet tall. He reached out, grabbing the crayon with his slightly larger hands.

“Great.” Sister said. She pushed a fresh piece of paper in front of him. “Now you draw. Like this.” She demonstrated, rubbing the crayon against the paper so color transferred onto it.

The being flopped down, sitting on the floor. Slowly, so slowly, he copied the girl. He traced his drawing instrument over the paper. He scribbled, creating a mess of lines and shapes without meaning or purpose.

Sister smiled proudly anyway. “You’re doing it. Good job, Tiny.”

He beamed, something in him sparking at the praise. He continued scribbling but the image changed into something more purposeful. A house took shape, stick figures. A large man and slimmer woman. A little girl and a little boy.

The little boy giggled at his drawing. His hands were chubbier than before. A toddler’s, instead of the miniaturized version of a teen’s. 

“Jazzy!” He looked up, showing off his drawing to the little redhead girl.

His older sister looked up. “That looks great, Danny!” She put her own crayons down, rubbing her sweaty forehead. “It’s so hot.”

The boy suddenly dropped his crayons and drawing. “Outside! Let’s go outside!”

“But it’s hot.” The girl repeated.

The boy was already running off. “Mommy! Mommy! Can we play in the sprinklers?! Please! Please!”

Mommy turned around from where she was making lunch. “After we eat, okay?”

“Okay!” The four year old beamed, already running up the stairs to get his swim trunks.

The next thing he knew, he was outside. Mommy set up the sprinkler. He and Jazzy ran around it, giggling. Daddy came outside with water balloons and Danny let out a happy scream. “Water balloons!”

The little boy grabbed one and threw it at his sister.

Danny blinked awake to bright light on his face. His nose wrinkled. It was still light out? Oh wait, he had been taking a nap. He sat up, yawning and rubbing his forehead. He’d been dreaming again, this time about…. He shivered, remembering. He’d been playing in the back yard with Jazz when he was four. And... he’d been with Danielle. She’d been showing him how to draw. 

The boy’s stomach flopped. That didn’t make sense. That hadn’t happened. Maybe... maybe he was thinking about her because Jazz had asked, earlier, when they’d been in the car but... that had felt like a memory.

Dread balled in his gut. He’d been small, smaller than her hand. And then he’d stretched and he was bigger, about the size of a toddler. Danny looked down at his hands, his human, properly sized hands. That, changing his size, wasn’t something he could do but…. In the dream, Danielle had called him Tiny. It didn’t make sense and yet….

He remembered. One of the other clones. The small green one. Danny shivered. That one, that one could shrink. That clone had overshadowed him.

The knowledge hit Danny like a ton of bricks. The tiny clone had overshadowed him. How... how didn’t he remember that until just now? How hadn’t he realized? Danny grimaced, a sickening feeling squeezing his insides. He’d been possessed. Someone else had been in his body, controlling his actions, messing with his mind. The boy wrapped his arms around himself. He felt violated at the thought. That was so wrong. Vlad had ordered one of his clones to overshadow him. And…. more memories of the experience pressed into his mind.

Danny had been semi-aware of the other presence. There had been a fight for control, another core so close to his and…. Memories, thoughts that weren’t his. Flashes of the tiny clone’s memories. And the feeling of tiny hands rifling through his own mind.

Danny pulled his knees to his chest. That must be why he’s felt so off. It was the aftereffects of being possessed. And that dream, the flashes of memory…. he must be remembering what he’d seen and felt from the tiny clone while it had been possessing him.

The boy sighed. But... the feeling would go away eventually, right? It would. He’d felt off after Sidney had overshadowed him as well. It had taken a bit to get used to being in his own body again. And Sidney was more experienced with overshadowing than his clone had been. The ghostly nerd knew how to push Danny’s spirit out of his body, instead of forcing both ghosts to cohabitate. That was why there were strange memories now, unlike last time.

But it didn’t matter. He’d get back to normal soon enough and his friends and sister would have nothing to worry about. Everything would be okay, right?

Danny stood up, rolling his shoulders to stretch. He had homework to do. He sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the way his stomach still flopped.

[kuiperblog]

The first 1% is always the hardest

Usually, the hardest part of acquiring a new skill is starting it for the first time.

When you’re at an intermediate level of progression, you can usually just increase your skill level by incrementing up the difficulty linearly.  If you’re a novice weightlifter and your best overhead press is 125 lbs, try adding 5 lbs to the bar and see if you can overhead press 130 lbs. (If not, keep lifting 125 lbs every few days until that becomes “easy,” then challenge yourself with 130 lbs again.)  If you can do 10 push-ups, you will probably reach the point where you can do 11 push-ups, and 12 push-ups, and 15 push-ups, and 25 push-ups, and so on.  The hardest part of lifting is day 1, when you might be performing certain motions for the first time in your life, and challenging your body to work muscles that you didn’t even realize existed.

I imagine the same is true of other fitness regimens: once you’re able to run a 9 minute mile, you probably have what it takes to run a 8:30 mile, or a 8 minute mile, if you keep at it.  Eventually you’ll hit a plateau and the limits of human performance, but the first day in the gym is always the hardest.

This is sort of how the trajectory of my writing career went.  And having talked to artist friends, and musicians, it seems like all of them followed a similar trend: they found a thing, they stuck with it, and over time found themselves advancing along that path bit by bit.  It became a hobby or a routine such that over time, by  by investing a bit more time, or a bit more effort, or challenging themselves a tiny bit more, they got better at it.  And over years, the compounding returns of that meant that the girl who got a drawing tablet at age 14 found that by the time she was 22 years old, she had enough artistic skill to make enough money from her art to make a living.

I think that in a lot of cases, people were able to start down that path of gradual self-improvement in part because they were able to somehow bypass the hardest part of it -- they blazed right through the initial difficulty without even realizing it.  They couldn’t even really answer the question of “When did you start drawing,” because they’ve always been drawing since the days that they were just doodling with pencil in paper at school. Maybe they just really enjoyed playing outdoors as a kid, and played soccer because it was fun, and made the seamless transition to being a high school athlete. In my case, I spent a lot of time writing long-winded forum posts explaining the finer points of topics I was passionate about (which, at age 13, was mostly Pokemon and Final Fantasy), and somehow by my 20′s I had enough of a penchant for explaining things that I was able to parley that into a writing career (so I can get paid for my long-winded explanations of Pokemon-related topics).

The early days of learning to write kind of sucked and were difficult.  (For starters, remember how unintuitive that QWERTY keyboard was the first time that you learned to type? Remember how painful it was to hunt-and-peck your way through sentences at an effective rate of <10 words per minute?)  But my desire to talk about Pokemon on message boards overwhelmed any difficulty or “suckiness” involved with learning to express my ideas through text, and so the suckiness of those early days wasn’t really much of an obstacle.

More and more, I’ve come to believe that the most important part of learning a new skill is finding a way to get over that initial difficulty hump -- of finding a way to survive the first day, and then the first week, and then the first month, and eventually reach a point where inertia carries you forward on a gradual upward slope of self-improvement where you’re not even consciously thinking too hard about improvement; you just randomly muse to yourself one day, “Oh yeah, this barbell I’m picking up weighs about 100 lbs more than the barbell I was lifting a year ago. Fancy that.” The longer you keep at it, the easier it is to stick with it.

In many corners of the internet, there’s an oft-repeated adage that “Watching anime won’t teach you to speak or understand Japanese.”  And sure, that’s obviously true on some level. If someone is thinking they’re going to spend a thousand hours watching subtitled anime, and then one day flip off the subtitles and be able to follow everything without missing a beat, they’re probably a bit delusional. If you want to actually achieve anything approaching Japanese fluency, you’re probably going to have to take a Japanese learning course, and engaged in spaced repetition to pick up and retain vocabulary, and all of the other stuff that goes into learning any language.

But I think that watching anime does provide you with one big advantage: it goes a long way toward helping you cross that “day 1″ hump. Because the first day is always the hardest. Going from 0 to 1 is harder than increasing your vocabulary by a few new words every week.  Before you can get the compounding returns from incrementally improving at a skill, you have to have a starting principle.  And I think that watching anime is actually quite good for that, because only knowing “weeaboo Japanese” will give you 20-30% of the vocabulary that’s included in your first couple Japanese lessons.

I’m speaking from personal experience: it’s incredibly heartening to go through a lesson and encounter words that I’m already familiar with.  Even if my fluency in “weeaboo Japanese” only covers 10% of what’s introduced in a given lesson, having a head start gives me an intangible confidence boost which makes it easier for me to focus on and retain the other 90%.

I don’t want to understate the importance of that intangible confidence boost: a lot of language acquisition is getting comfortable with a language, and repeating something so much that you do it without even thinking about it. For example, in English, sometimes sometimes someone might ask you “how’s it going?” and you might answer “fine” before your brain has even consciously registered the meaning of what you were hearing, or saying. And I’m enough of a weeb that I can hear i tenki desu ne and immediately reflexively respond with sou desu ne, before my brain has even consciously registered the question being asked (sometimes taking several seconds to mentally backtrack and realize, “Oh right, the “i tenki” part means “nice weather.”).  But years and years of listening and pattern recognition have taught me that when someone ends a sentence in desu ne? with the sort of inflection that says “I’m asking you a rhetorical question,” the proper response is probably sou desu ne, and my brain produces that response just as reflexively as it spits out “I’m doing fine, how about you?” any time someone asks “How’s it going?”)

One thing I’ve come to notice is that every lesson begins with some of some amount of review, giving you that spaced repetition, and providing context for the new words and concepts that the lesson is about to introduce, and generally provide a foundation for the new material.  Day 1 is, by necessity, the exception -- how can you “review” material that you’ve never covered before?  But for me, the day 1 lessons on how to say nihongo and arigato and watashi and anata were already “review” of topics that I picked up through years of being a weeb.

Besides that, there’s the fact that the structural elements of Japanese are something that my brain was naturally able to grok in a way that is intuitive to me after spending years listening to spoken Japanese even though most of it is contextual. (Like, I’m not sure when this happened, but at a certain point I think my brain just kind of learned, when listening to Japanese sentences, to approximate which parts were the verb and where certain clauses landed in the sentence, if only because when watching anime with subtitles you become consciously aware of when a character’s name appears in the dialog.) I’m not really consciously thinking about it, which kind of feels like the “natural” way to learn a language.  (After all, it’s not as if native English speakers, as toddlers, consciously think to themselves, “Ah, it seems as though English typically follows a subject-verb-object grammar structure.” Kids just listen to adults speaking English and form sentences that way without really having to be formally taught.)

It’s highly likely that at some point in my internet career that I have at one point been the cynical message board poster telling someone that, contrary to their fantasies, watching anime isn’t going to help them learn Japanese in any real or material way, and if I’ve ever suggested that, it’s time for me to eat crow.  Because while the advantage that “weeaboo-level Japanese” gives you might be small, and only help you on the first few days of Japanese class, those are the most important days, because the first 1% is always the hardest.

My familiarity with “weeaboo-level Japanese” has only given me one disadvantage, and that is that years of memes have poisoned my brain to the point where the first I was prompted with “say ‘excuse me’ in Japanese,” my brain (and mouth) immediately spat out “sorrymasen,” and I wish I could say it only happened once, but it wasn’t until around day 3 that I managed to fully train this habit out of myself.

[edusquaremaths]

Q9 Exercise1.1 I Class 12 Maths NCERT Chapter 1 Relations and Functions | NCERT solutions

NCERT Class 12Chapter: Relations and FunctionsExercise 1.1Question 9: Show that each of the relation R in the set A = {x ∈ Z : 0 ≤ x ≤ 12}, given by(i) R = {(a, b) : |a – b| is a multiple of 4}(ii) R = {(a, b) : a = b}is an equivalence relation. Find the set of all elements related to 1 in each case.

[thecreaturecodex]

Angel, Bene Ishim

Image © Green Ronin Press, by Britt Martin. Accessed at the Green Ronin Art Gallery here

[Commissioned by @thetygre​. Yes, this is an angel, not a devil, demon, tiefling, etc. Although the flavor text in The Avatar’s Handbook stresses their role in acting as spies behind fiendish ranks, both the commissioner and I pinged to the idea that these are a great way to explain the folkloric devil, where the Devil Himself shows up to get wrecked by some country bumpkin, child or Santa Claus. Of course that’s an angel doing PR work! To quote Thomas More, “the proud spirit cannot endure to be mocked”.

The name (but not the concept) appears to be derived from a genuine angel in Jewish traditions, but evidence online is spotty. The Wikipedia entry for ishim doesn’t cite a lot of sources, and the sources cited include the reliably unreliable Rosemary Ellen Guiley. An angel by that name did appear on Supernatural, though, for what it’s worth. I don’t think he had little horns or a high collar.

Edit: I seem to have misplaced the statistics. I was editing this in-frame a while, so maybe tumblr ate them, or maybe I just screwed up.]

Angel, Bene Ishim CR 7 NG Outsider (extraplanar) This figure looks to be the very spitting image of a fiend, with red skin, slick black hair, small horns and a goatee. He smirks evilly and winks, drawing his cape with a flourish.

Although they are sometimes called “fallen angels”, bene ishim are nothing of the sort. Instead, they are angels that assume the guise of fiends in order to either infiltrate their holdings or teach mortals about fiendish weaknesses. Many folkloric tales of devils losing fiddle contests, giving information when having their three golden hairs plucked, or being generally outwitted by children are in fact the work of bene ishim. They tirelessly work in the mortal realm to spread propaganda that evil creatures are untrustworthy, foolish and beatable by common folk. Some even enter regular relationships with a given town or country, appearing at festivals or holidays in order to be “defeated” to raise morale and teach valuable lessons. They delight in appearing to people leaning towards evil deeds, either enticing them to channel their temptation in more productive ways or if that fails, ensuring that their actions are both futile in causing harm and notable enough to result in rehabilitation.

In the lower planes, bene ishim have a second, related mission; to defuse the plans of evil through sabotage and theft. Bene ishim locate powerful evil items to steal, research and destroy, turn members of a fiendish army against each other, and generally attempt to focus the attention of evil on itself rather than on good or the mortal world. Even if they are caught out, their magical powers can force devils or demons to fight their allies instead of the bene ishim. Between this and their ability to blend into shadows, few bene ishim remain in combat long, preferring to slip away while enemies are distracted with each other.

A bene ishim is a shapechanger, able to disguise itself as either a mortal or a fiend as its mission requires. They usually take fiendish forms that fit its overall humanoid size and build, such as bearded devils, hydrodaemons or succubi. Their natural form resembles a tiefling or cambion to sufficient degree that they usually try to pass themselves off as one of these creatures if they know fiends with true seeing (such as erinyes) lie between them and their goal.

Bene Ishim   CR 7 XP 3,200 NG Medium outsider (angel, extraplanar, good, shapechanger) Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +12 Defense AC 21, touch 14, flat-footed 17 (+4 Dex, +7 natural); +4 deflection vs. evil hp 68 (8d10+24) Fort +5, Ref +10, Ref +11; +4 vs. poison, +4 resistance vs. evil DR 5/evil; Immune acid, cold, petrifaction; Resist electricity 10, fire 10; SR 18 Defensive Abilities alter alignment, personal protective aura, shadow blend Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee masterwork trident +12/+7 (1d8+4) or 2 claws +11 (1d4+3) Special Attacks redirect blows, sneak attack +1d6 Spell-like Abilities CL 8th, concentration +11 At will—align weapon, detect evil, detect magic, invisibility (self only) 3/day—greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. objects only), locate object, obscure object, sending 1/day—confusion (DC 17), crushing despair (DC 17), good hope, plane shift (self only) Statistics Str 17, Dex 19, Con 16, Int 17, Wis 16, Cha 16 Base Atk +8; CMB +11; CMD 25 Feats Alertness, Combat Reflexes, Improved Initiative, Iron Will Skills Bluff +18, Diplomacy +9, Disguise +18, Escape Artist +13, Knowledge (arcana) +9, Knowledge (planes) +12, Perception +12, Sense Motive +18, Sleight of Hand +13, Spellcraft +9, Stealth +13, Use Magic Device +18; Racial Modifiers +6 Bluff, +6 Disguise, +6 Sense Motive, +6 Use Magic Device Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Infernal SQ change shape (humanoid or evil outsider, polymorph), fiendish guise Ecology Environment any land or underground (Nirvana or evil plane) Organization solitary, pair or cell (3-6) Treasure double standard (masterwork trident, other treasure) Special Abilities Alter Alignment (Su) A bene ishim can choose the strength and alignment of its aura as a standard action. Any creature trying to detect its aura must succeed a DC 17 Will save or read it as the angel’s chosen aura instead. The save DC is Charisma based. Fiendish Guise (Su) A bene ishim can use its change shape ability to take the form of Tiny, Small, Medium or Large evil outsiders. It does not gain any of their abilities unless those abilities can be assumed by the spell polymorph. Personal Protective Aura (Su) A bene ishim gains a +4 deflection bonus to Armor Class and a +4 resistance bonus to saving throws against attacks and effects made by evil creatures. Treat this as a double strength protection from evil effect. Redirect Blows (Su) As an immediate action, a bene ishim can force a creature attempting to attack it to succeed a DC 17 Will save or instead attack the nearest evil outsider. If no evil outsider is in reach of the enemy’s attack, it instead injures itself, dealing 1d8 points of damage plus its Strength modifier. This is a mind-influencing compulsion effect. Shadow Blend (Su) In any condition of illumination other than full daylight, a bene ishim disappears into the shadows, giving it concealment (50% miss chance). Artificial illumination, even a light or continual flame spell, does not negate this ability; a daylight spell, however, does. A bene ishim can suspend or resume this ability as a free action.

[becuzitisbitter]

All Cops Are Bad

The last of the essays i will be posting that I wrote for school, this one is an attempt at an approachable ACAB argument (my professor said that she was persuaded, at least)

    There is an old slogan with roots at least as far back as the 1920’s and is yet becoming more and more popular across the globe today: “All coppers are bastards.” Of course, most people just say “cops” these days.  The extensive history of the slogan might even make one stop to wonder why the police have been the object of such long-standing antagonism, if one isn’t the sort to grasp the slogan’s truth intuitively.  The reality is that all cops really are bastards, not in a literal sense, of course, but in the derogatory usage which communicates despicability.  The goal of this essay is to convince the reader that the police are bad and that policing should be done away with entirely.  After all, the police present themselves as the vanguard of the state’s repressive urges and as the guarantors of an order defined by deprivation and violence.

    Olivia B. Waxman, writing for Time Magazine, points to economic forces as dictating the development of the means and aims utilized by policing institutions in the U.S.  She writes that businesses had already been hiring private security to protect the transport and storage of their property, and that, “These merchants came up with a way to save money by transferring to the cost of maintaining a police force to citizens by arguing that it was for the “collective good.” (Waxman) In other words, America’s first publicly funded police force was simply picking up after the work of private businesses to protect their own property, but with the cost foisted upon those who were being kept out. She continues this economic argument as she traces the lineage of the modern police force back to its forerunners in the Southern runaway slave patrols. She writes, “the economics that drove the creation of police forces were centered not on the protection of shipping interests but on the preservation of the slavery system”. Thus, the primary policing institutions in the South were the slave patrols, the first of which was formally established in 1704. (Waxman)

    The police developed historically to enforce property rights rather than to ensure the wellbeing of the populace.  If it is understood that white supremacy encodes human skin with either privilege or dispossession, it should be understood that, as Mariame Kaba writes in an opinion piece published by the New York Times, “when you see a police officer pressing his knee into a black man’s neck until he dies, that’s the logical result of policing in America. When a police officer brutalizes a black person, he is doing what he sees as his job.” (Kaba) Kaba is an organizer against criminalization and a self-described police abolitionist because she believes that “a ‘safe’ world is not one in which the police keep black and other marginalized people in check through threats of arrest, incarceration, violence and death.” The police, then, are not focused on creating a safe world. They are interested in preserving the world as it is, which demands a tacit defense of misogynistic and white supremacist institutions.

    Regardless of personal attitudes or goals, the undeniable outcome of two hundred years of policing in America has been an uninterrupted avalanche of mostly arbitrary violence aimed at preserving the rule of law, that is, the sanctity of private property. In just the last year, the discourse about the role and place of police in our society has exploded with new questions and new ideas. What makes this conversation so powerful is that the police are considered so essential to the functioning of the modern world that the abolitionist movement must necessarily carry indictments on many other institutions and ways of relating that are bound-up with policing.

    Of course, many readers will be quick to react defensively.  Most disagreements with the argument presented here will take one of two forms: the claim that the argument over-generalizes police, and the claim that the police fill such an essential role that society couldn’t hope to provide an acceptable standard of life in their absence.  Both will be addressed below.

    The former argument comes in many varieties.  One might even say, “It is unfair to judge such a large group by the actions of a few bad apples,” without being aware that they were reversing the meaning of the idiom they are attempting to make use of, which actually originated as “A rotten apple quickly infects its neighbor,” according to Ben Zimmer, who is a linguist and language columnist for The Wall Street Journal. (Cunningham) Regardless of the backwardness of this idiom, many would maintain that it is wrong to generalize police or stereotype their actions based on our perceptions of a few bad actors.  Some police may abuse their power, or harbor prejudice, many readers would contend, but most police officers are decent people doing their best under difficult conditions.  The truth, however, is that literally all cops bring about harm simply by doing the jobs that they signed up for.  To go a step further, even if every police officer were to act in good faith, the task of maintaining a status quo defined by inequality would still force officers into the position of beating the cold, poor, and hungry back from the resources they need to live comfortably. This world of deprivation is not worth defending, and yet every cop has signed up to defend it.  Some readers might still say that to pain the police with such a broad brush, is to commit an act of prejudice on par with the attitudes the police are criticized for, but they are grasping at straws. No one becomes a police officer by accident.  By switching careers, they could avoid such judgement entirely.  One wonders if they would feel the same about criticizing other groups which are entirely opt-in, such as MS-13 or the Taliban.

    Could there ever be such a thing as a good cop? No.  Here is one example that I think demonstrates a larger principle: even if a given police officer is a dedicated and educated anti-racist, the logistical deployment of police departments across the US places more officers in poor neighborhoods and communities of color than in wealthy or majority-white areas. This means that even the most kind-hearted police would be more likely to detain or arrest poor people and people of color than affluent whites.  This is only one facet of a fundamentally unjust system.  The development of police departments as racist and anti-working-class institutions across History means that they are structurally and institutionally racist and anti-working-class in the here and now.  Police departments continue to defy reform because the problem is intentionally encoded into their purpose. They must be done away with entirely.

    When a protestor or graffiti artist echoes the old slogan that, “All cops are bastards,” it is an expression of a tautology.  Like the phrase “All triangles have three sides,” the slogan contains its own truth.  All triangles have three sides because it is part of the definition of triangles to have three sides.  We can’t even conceive of a triangle with four sides because by having four sides, it would cease to be a triangle.  Despicability is written into the definition of policing because the aims of policing are themselves despicable.  Any cop that ceased to work toward the aims of policing would cease to be deplorable, maybe, but he would also cease to be a cop as surely as a triangle with four sides would cease to be a triangle.

    The second primary counter argument to criticism of the police is that the police are a necessary evil, essential to protecting us from a rousseauian war of all against all.  This assumption that humanity could not get by without police seems silly, after all, the police are only a modern institution, hardly a blip in humanity’s story.  It has already been shown that the police were not created to protect the average person from harm, but to protect private property rights.  In any case, a counter argument from consequences is not the same as a refutation.  One need not know the correct answer to a problem to recognize a wrong one.  When asked, “What would you do with the psycho serial killers?” one should be unabashedly honest about not knowing the answer because there is no one answer.  The answer to each problem can only be located in the context in which the problem occurs.  This reflex to reach for a one-size-fits-all answer for all of life’s problems, along with its concomitant desire to preserve the tedious “peace” of the status quo, do a lot to explain the psychology of pro-police arguments.

    Neither the means nor ends of policing are acceptable.  The forces that shape and control our world, be they corporate or political, tower over us such that we only ever meet with their basest appendages.  The police are their piggy-toes, pun-intended.  Admittedly, the arguments presented here will be significantly weaker in the mind of anyone who really feels good about the state of the world which police maintain, however little is likely to be gained in dialogue with someone who could maintain a positive view of concentration camps, needless and ceaseless killings, the continuation of slave labor in the prison system, mass food-insecurity, etc.      

    It is incumbent upon each of us to improve the world around us.  The police are an impediment to a better, safer, freer world.  They are antithetical to equity, autonomy, and community; that is why all who fight too hard for a better life eventually find themselves faced with the police, one way or another. Nevertheless, while so much hangs in the balance, we can’t let the bastards get us down.

    Works Cited

Olivia B. Waxman. “How the U.S. Got Its Police Force” Time Magazine, https://time.com/4779112/police-history-origins/ Published: 5/18/2017, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Mariame Kaba. “Yes, We Mean Literally Abolish the Police” The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/12/opinion/sunday/floyd-abolish-defund-police.html Published: 6/12/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Malorie Cunningham. “'A few bad apples': Phrase describing rotten police officers used to have different meaning”

https://abcnews.go.com/US/bad-apples-phrase-describing-rotten-police-officers-meaning/story?id=71201096 Published: 6/14/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Angazhan, the Ravenous King

Chaotic Evil Demon Lord of Apes, Tyrants, and Jungles

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Evil, Plant Subdomains: Decay, Demon, Fur, Growth

The Complete Book of the Damned, pg. 18~19

Obedience: Ingest hallucinogenic jungle plants and then beat a complex rhythm on a large drum made of human skin and bones while chanting prayers to Angazhan. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws against diseases and poisons caused by exposure to the jungle or inflicted by creatures native to jungles.

Heurgh, Angazhan has some pretty restrictive requirements here, and his Benefit really only works against a single environment, making Angazhan one of the most environmentally-locked deities since Dagon! It’s fitting, considering Angazhan is basically only worshiped in Darkest Africa the Mwangi Expanse, a massive and terrifying jungle he’s had his six-fingered hands buried deep into ever since humanity began settling the land. Since worship rarely ever leaves a jungle home, any player character wanting to serve the Ravenous King had better make sure they’ll be sticking close to the vine-draped homeland, or they’re just completely out of luck! Not just because they lose out on the benefit above, but because they lose out on a good number of Boons too!

anyway, it’s a difficult alignment to set up for and keep a secret, if you’re trying to hide your worship of the Tyrant King. You COULD pass off the drum as being made of animal tissues, but the loud chanting to a known and famous Demon Lord and the fact you’re likely to be seeing stars and colors due to your Hearty Breakfast is much harder to explain if someone kicks your door in. The fact you need both jungle drugs and a drum means this Obedience is utterly ruined if you get robbed or have your equipment stolen, though at the very least it’s easy enough to replace your belongings... if you’re in a jungle. If you’re not, getting a new drum is simple, but a visit to the black market may be necessary to restock on your Hearty Breakfast.

The benefit is notably weaker than other benefits of a similar theme; a few deities are generous enough to give universal protections from poison and disease, but Angazhan punishes you for going where he cannot tread. Fitting for a tyrant who likes having people under his thumb, but annoying for someone trying to actually extend his reach. In a jungle area, however, it’s MUCH more impressive than it looks in a vacuum; many, many, many, MANY horrors within the deep and mysterious tangles rely on poisons or disease to fell their enemies and their prey, so the added protection will always come in handy!

Boons are acquired slowly: the first once you reach 12 hit dice, the second at 16, and the third at 20. However, the Evangelist, Exalted, and Sentinel Prestige Classes can be entered as early as level 7; doing so grants you the Boons at levels 10, 13, and 16 instead. Servants of demons may also take the Demoniac Prestige Class; you don’t get the Boons any faster than E/E/S, but you may select which Boon set you get, and you get cool demon-related powers!

------- EVANGELIST -------

Boon 1: The Jungle Consumes. Gain Pass Without Trace 3/day, Tree Shape 2/day, or Spike Growth 1/day.

‘Consumes’ indeed; Spike Growth can render a frankly offensive amount of terrain completely inhospitable (ten 20ft squares!), shredding 1d4 HP off every creature trying to pass through a single 5ft square and threatening to halve their movement speed for a full day every time they take damage. As anyone who’s played as or fought against a Druid can attest to, Spike Growth is useful for exactly two things (slowing an enemy’s retreat or advance) but it’s amazing at doing so. The sheer amount of terrain the spell covers and the length of time it covers for (an hour per level) makes useful for stopping everything from a charging dragon to a charging army... provided your foe has less than 4 DR. In order to halve someone’s movespeed they need to actually take damage from the growth AND fail a Reflex save, meaning even the meager DR 5 you’re likely to encounter at levels 10+ is enough to make Spike Growth completely irrelevant.

If you can use it against a foe who’s not immune to it, though, it’s absolutely stellar. Moving through even a single 20ft square triggers four separate Reflex saves to avoid having one’s movespeed halved for a full day, and--as written--the halved speed can’t be undone with Fast Healing or Regeneration, the victim MUST find a Cure spell. Perhaps the biggest downside is that using it to its fullest potential--that is, to cripple a charging swarm of foes--is unlikely to happen, delegating it to crowd control versus a small amount of enemies.

It’s leagues better than the niche Tree Shape, but Pass Without Trace also has its merits, hiding up to 10 people from sniffing noses and prying eyes for half a day, letting you and your allies effortlessly vanish into the foliage. Indeed, all three of these spells are extremely useful in the jungle setting Angazhan demands you remain in, so if you ARE actually hiding around in the Mwangi Expanse, all three of these can be genuine picks depending on if you plan to be a trapper, a stalker, or a sentree that day.

Boon 2: Canopy Crawler. Your feet become prehensile and apelike, allowing them to act as a second pair of hands for every purpose except wielding a shield or weapon, such as to execute somatic components, to aid in climbing, to hold objects, and to maintain your Dexterity bonus to AC while climbing. In addition, you gain a climb speed equal to your walking speed +10, and can attempt a Climb check in place of the following checks: Acrobatics checks to swing or leap between branches and vines; Stealth checks to remain hidden within trees, and you can move at full speed through them without penalty; and Stealth checks to snipe from trees, the penalty for doing so reduced by 10. 

The way this ability is written in the book is kind of a mess, so I tried my best to shuffle it into a more easily digestible form.

Anyway: Freaky monkey feet! For all your freaky monkey feet needs! One of the more unique Boons in the game, and unlike most highly unique Boons, this one is still highly useful! While your handfeet can’t wield weapons or shields, you can use them for more or less anything else while your actual human hands are occupied. Sleight of Hand? No, my friend, I’m on a completely different level.

The big star here is the free climb speed, which automatically gives you a meaty +8 to Climb checks, making the various skill checks it replaces much, much easier to exploit. You become an expert of gorilla... guerrilla... Gorilla Guerrilla Warfare, soundlessly moving from tree to tree and hurling spears or firing arrows with nary a peep but for the whoosh of the weapon through the branches and leaves, moving from position to position as easily as playing hopscotch. Even if you never invested in Stealth at all, you can suddenly pour ranks into Climb and become an ersatz Rogue for the party, leading a silent charge against the foes of the Ravenous King’s cult. 

Side note, this ability combines beautifully with all 3 of the spell-likes from The Jungle Consumes, as your brachiating movements put you above Spike Growth, Pass Without Trace makes you utterly impossible to nonmagically track if you attack at night, and Tree Shape lets you become a horror movie villain that vanishes the instant it appears you’re about to be ‘caught.’

Boon 3: One With The Jungle. While in the jungle, you gain blindsight to a range of 60 feet, you gain a +2 insight bonus to AC and on saving throws, and you are never flat-footed or surprised. You ignore cover and concealment caused by natural features of the jungle, as the very plants and stones twist out of the path of your attacks and spells.

An eternal Diet Foresight if your reward for remaining in the Ravener King’s grip, but this ability--unlike Canopy Crawler--is entirely blank if you adventure outside of your god’s chosen locale, a punishing loss of an otherwise incredibly strong defensive ability. Being impossible to catch by surprise is good enough on its own, especially at levels where enemies can have Sneak Attacks exceeding +4d6, poisons that cause people to hemorrhage ability scores, or fatal grappling embraces, to say nothing of what happens if a spellcaster gets the drop on everyone. The +2 to AC and universal bonus to saving throws will struggle to make a difference, but it’s a rare insight bonus and will thus stack with all your existing bonuses... and, of course, it lasts forever so long as you remain in a jungle.

I enjoy that the jungle will shuffle aside to let you shoot and swat your enemies without penalty, making my ‘treetop sniper’ suggestion in Canopy Crawler even more viable. Now, as long as you can see even the smallest portion of your target, the natural world will bend and sway to avoid your blows so that they always strike true, letting you attack enemies without the possibility of them retaliating unless they begin cutting down the whole jungle... at which point they’ll have much bigger issues than just you.

------- EXALTED -------

Boon 1: Jungle’s Wrath. Entangle 3/day, Bull’s Strength 2/day, or Summon Monster III (1 fiendish ape, 1d3 fiendish advanced baboons, or 1d4+1 fiendish baboons) 1/day.

Bull’s Strength is always nice to have to give the beefy members of your party, giving them an extra +2 to attack and damage rolls for ten or so minutes at a time, among other bonuses. Strength bonuses are some of the most boring but practical things you can hand out, because you never know when you’ll just need to do something as simple as moving a large rock or hit something for 2 more points of damage than normal. Having it at twice a day means it’ll likely carry through the most important battles or puzzles you’ll face.

Entangle, however, tends to be the better option here. See everything I said above about Spike Growth? Paste that here, as well, but trade off the damage for the ability to grapple everything trying to move through the 40ft radius(!) of plantlife you’ve affected. In some ways it’s better than Spike Growth, utterly halting the movement of anyone heading through it if they fail their save rather than halving it, and being difficult terrain even if the victims succeed, which halves their speed anyway.

Seeing summoning abilities on a Boon is usually good, but the painful limitation of only being able to summon various demon apes means it severely lacks its normal Swiss Army application. It’s only really good if you need either a distraction, or something heavy moved, both of which could be accomplished with Entangle and Bull’s Strength without it being tied to a creature with subhuman intelligence. At the very least, apes have humanoid hands and can thus perform tasks very few other summoned creatures could do, such as wielding weapons.

Boon 2: Summon Child of Angazhan. 1/day as a swift action, you can summon an Advanced Fiendish Girallon, 1d3 Advanced Fiendish Dire Apes, or 1d4+1 Advanced Fiendish Apes as if you had cast Summon Monster VI.

In spite of my mockery of the Boon above, the ape restriction here is anything but painful. ... well, it’s painful for anyone who’s not you, mind. An Advanced Fiendish Girallon is a CR 8 monstrosity with enough damage output and resilience from the Fiendish template to punch above its weight class. A Girallon is a four-armed, Large-sized ape beast with five attacks (and Rend!) a round, with enough agility and maneuverability to run down fleeing foes or chase them through just about any terrain easily.

It’s also your best option among the summons; the Dire Apes and normal apes are nice, but the chance of summoning a single Dire Ape or a meager 2 fiend apes means a Girallon is the best go-to unless you need a lot of bodies rather than one large one. The Fiendish template is really what gives this ability the oomph it needs to shrug off most of my criticism of Jungle’s Wrath, granting even your normal apes a bit of Spell Resistance and elemental resistance to Fire and Acid... though, notable, both the normal ape and the Dire Ape have too few HD to gain the advanced benefits of the Fiendish template, and none of the creatures here have high enough Charisma to make the Smite Good ability granted to them useful, even with the +4 to all ability scores from Advanced.

Perhaps the biggest gold star this power has, however, is the fact that it can be used as a swift action. You can instantaneously flank an enemy with a murderous gorilla and then stab them in the back when they rightly turn around to look at said murderous gorilla in disbelief, or you can blast them with another spell, or you can do any number of other things with the distraction you’ve just created. Don’t forget that Summon Monster VI also has a range of Close, letting you hurl a demon gorilla at an enemy from 25+5ft/lvl away. The downside, however, is that SMVI also has a duration of a meager 1 round/lvl, meaning you’ll often run into the issue of saving the use of this ability, often until you no longer need it.

Boon 3: Jungle’s Might. You gain a +2 profane bonus to your Strength score and a +2 bonus on Fortitude saving throws.

Useful but boring. It’s moderately better than most stat-buffing Boons thanks to the additional Fortitude bonus, but final Boons typically give +4 bonuses, not +2. There’s no flash or pizazz here, nothing to really expand upon, so lets move on!

------- SENTINEL -------

Boon 1: Tyrant’s Roar. Gain Command 3/day, Sound Burst 2/day, or Suggestion 1/day.

I almost got mad because I mistook Sound Burst for a different, much worse spell. Nope! That was sonic scream or whatever, one I’m so unimpressed with I didn’t even bother looking it up. Sound Burst is significantly better, anyway, able to stun a small crowd of enemies in a single casting, which is exactly what you--as the Sentinel--want to happen. Either because you’re holding back an enemy(/ies) for your allies to get into place, or because you’re holding them still so you can get in close. The damage it deals is pitiful, but it’s automatic even if they succeed against the stun effect, and you never know when 8 damage to up to a crowd will make a difference!

Like most of Angazhan’s blessings, it gets better if you’re in a jungle, as the hostility of the Mwangi Expanse means invaders are likely to be clustered together as tightly as possible to prevent attacks from all angles. Punish them, hard.

Command is in-character for the Tyrant King, and it rewards creative uses beyond the ‘come,’ ‘stay,’ and ‘drop’ commands, though those serve their purpose well enough. I’m quite partial to KNEEL, which fits Angazhan rather well! The only problem is that its low saving throw scaling means it’s unlikely to affect enemies that matter, and in combat it’s often much better to just rush in and start slapping. Out of combat Suggestion is king, though it’s an odd choice for someone who tends to force people to follow his orders through violence and threats rather than relying on coercive and subtle magic. Personally, I’d let the Face of the party or the dedicated enchanter rely on Suggestion, and carry Sound Burst around for those times you need to explode people’s eardrums.

Boon 2: Reign of Terror. You add your Strength modifier to Intimidate checks (this does not stack with Intimidating Prowess or similar feats and abilities) as well as your Charisma modifier. Once per minute, you may use Intimidate to demoralize a single creature within 30ft as a swift action, or all creatures within 10ft as a move action. When using Intimidate to demoralize a creature in this way, if your result exceeds the DC by 5 or more, the creature is frightened for 1 round and then shaken for the normal duration; if your result exceeds the DC by 10 or more, the creature cowers for 1 round, then is frightened for 1 round, and then is shaken for the normal duration. When you use Intimidate to demoralize an ally, instead of being shaken, that creature gains a +2 morale bonus on attack rolls for the appropriate duration.

While normally Boons are built to be taken advantage of by any class within the margins of those who can enter the Prestige Classes in the first place, sometimes you get one that forces you into a specific path. This one highly, highly rewards having both a high Strength and a high (or at least neutral) Charisma, and focusing a feat or two into making your Intimidate as high as possible can see you sending squadrons of enemy combatants scattering and trampling one another to get away from you. I love, love, LOVE that there’s no per-day use restriction on this power, only that it can be used once per minute, meaning you can bring it out in more or less every fight you encounter.

Exceeding the victim’s Intimidation DC by 10 or more causes them to cower, a status affliction barely above paralysis in how terrible it is to be suffering, opening them up to a whole round of being beat on without any ability to retaliate. Even if they survive the round of helplessness, they’re forced to run from you and use whatever resources they have available to get as far away from you as possible... which can be a blessing or a curse depending on what they were carrying and how badly you wanted it.

Being able to Intimidate a single foe as a swift action or a whole crowd surrounding you as a move action is strong, especially if you can bolster your prowess enough to always score 10 higher than their DC (a challenge, but not an insurmountable one)... And even if your enemies are immune to being intimidated either because they’re mindless, starved, or immune to fear, you can use this ability to give your whole team +2 to attack rolls for 4+ rounds. It’s more of a consolation prize than anything else, but note that the final sentence does not say “in this way,” meaning you can use Intimidate normally without needing the 1/minute bolstering to give your allies a bit more accuracy! Wasteful, but viable!

Boon 3: Unchallenged Tyrant. When you perform your Obedience, designate a number of present and willing creatures equal to your Charisma modifier; these are your Thralls. This designation lasts for 24 hours or until you next perform your Obedience. 3/day, you can infuse all Thralls within 50 feet of you as a swift action, granting them a +4 bonus to their Strength and Constitution scores and a +2 bonus on initiative checks, and granting any teamwork feats you have as bonus feats *for an number of rounds equal to your hit dice. If a Thrall dies within 50 feet of you at any time, you gain the effects of Death Ward (CL = half the Thrall’s Hit Dice, to a maximum of CL 20th).

*this ability originally had no listed duration, making it quite awkward and insanely powerful. I’ve added one that makes sense.

Oh, not bad! Another reward for buffing up your Charisma! Even if it’s just to a +2 bonus! And it’s a fine one, too, letting you enchant your allies with a discounted Barbarian Rage, including a bonus to initiative checks to help them move before your enemies even know what’s happening! THREE TIMES a day!!! And--wait, wait, there’s more? You also transfer ALL your teamwork feats to your Thralls? Teamwork feats are pretty powerful but wholly rely on your allies being willing to give up their own feat slots for them, and they utterly fail to work if you aren’t working together or become separated by enemy shenanigans. This ability (along with the Inquisitor’s Solo Tactics) turns those empty feat slots into something truly game-changing due to applying them to all of your Thralls at once. This means that, even if you don’t or cannot join in the fight, they can still use teamwork with each other, and all you need is one of them to be nearby to make use of feats like Lookout (if one of you can act during the surprise round, all of you can), Precise Strikes (+1d6 damage if you’re flanking an enemy)... or, perhaps the most useful of them, Coordinated Charge, allowing you and your allies to all charge the same target.

It doesn’t take a genius to see why Coordinated Charge is one of the best you can use with this ability, as the +Strength and Con bonus means you can turn even the weakest member of the party into another source of damage however small. It also means all of your melee battlers can get into the fray immediately, and if used in combination with Lookout, it can turn an enemy ambush into a pile of severed limbs and broken armor before they even realize what they’re up against.

I also like that if any of your Thralls die, you get a free Death Ward. If you know you’re going up against a necromancer or an Undead with Energy Drain, making an incredibly weak but tasty-looking creature one of your Thralls and sending them in to die is one less spell slot your Divine caster needs to use on you. I’m amused by the idea of blessing one member of your Sack Of Rats and just crushing it in your hand if you ever need a ward. If you have the Charisma for it, definitely try it out!

You can enter Monkis World here.

[prose-for-hire]

I [still] know what you did last Halloween...

Part one // Part Three // Part Four

Pairing: Scooby gang x reader (platonic)

This is the second part to a platonic story with the reader as part of the Scooby gang. Set season 3. This is a multi-parted serial killer/slasher fic for Halloween. Yes, I had to include Spike. Yes, I am sorry. Reader lived with Giles, but is not related. 

Warning: It is a serial killer fic, main characters are going to die (I’m sorry, it’s Halloween). Violence. Blood mention. Alcohol consumption. Swearing.

Sunnydale students: SOS

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

The Sunnydale slasher strikes again, leaving one teen dead and two injured. There was a house party last night [12/10/1999] which left the student body with one less. The identity of the teen, who is yet to be identified based on extensive injuries should be announced to the public after the family is informed.

However, it makes us at the Sunnydale Express question: was it the teens fault for breaking curfew?

It was the day of the funerals. There was to be two back-to-back.

The first funeral was Giles’. It was an intimate ceremony, the core group and a Watcher who had never met Giles alive. He was there to ‘oversee’ matters but Wesley told him where to go. This had surprised you, the man wasn’t usually so forthright but he had appeared to be fond of Giles in some way.

Your group stood, staring into the open grave. You were now minus two members. There had been some crying earlier, but everyone’s faces were stony now. As if they were set in place. Exhausted from crying, not sure if you would die from dehydration if you wept another drop.

All of the colour had been sucked out of the world and you were all now aware that you were only briefly passing through this life. You weren’t aware everyone else was sharing your cynical thought, but they were.

You felt the most immeasurable guilt. You felt guilty for Giles’ death. For being the reason he was gutted so brutally. Used to write a crude message on the wall. His life had come down to being the ink in someone’s pen and it angered you that this was what his life had been reduced to. But mostly, it sickened you.

And, as Willow tapped you on the shoulder and gestured that it was time. Your mind still trying to wrap your head around the imagines you had seen in the past week. It was never going to get easier.

It was all a blur. It was screaming and rushing of bodies all around you. 

The room had started to thin. Only the injured and your friends remained. Willow had started to mutter something, a kind of protective spell - she grabbed your hand needing your strength. 

The slayers danced around each other, their fight mean and brutal. he appeared human, but his reflexes were good. Almost, too good.

He was blocking them at every turn. He appeared to be enjoying it. He was studying them. Learning their movement. Anticipating what would come next. They fought hard. Buffy hissing as the tip of the scythe cut into the flesh on her upper arm.

Then it happened. You could barely stomach thinking about it. Xander had walked into the room-

Xander had been a good friend to you. He was never perfect and you liked that about him, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t. He looked out for you and he had been there for you when you had almost broken down and run to the police months ago. He had been firm that it had to be kept secret what you had done, but never refused you a shoulder to cry on.

His funeral was a lavish affair, his parents turning on the waterworks despite everyone knowing how they would treat him at times. They had paid for only the best, with a large number of people attending. The church was packed out. It made you wander that if any of them knew what he had been involved in with the rest of you, would they be so quick to say they had always liked him? Always seen him as brave and strong?

Any time the family saw any of the people that were there that night they scowled. They glared. And they burst into more tears. Why were you spared, when he wasn’t?

The six of you huddled together. Oz was more distant than usual, his hand on Willow’s shoulder as she couldn’t control her sobbing now. Buffy was sat with you, trying to hold it together as you wrapped an arm around her - willing yourself not to fall apart either. Cordelia and Faith had started bickering. It was getting progressively louder and your group was getting funny looks. They eventually stopped but only when the priest shushed them and started to say the final words before Xander was cremated.

Bravery. It was a word that had been said a lot that day, in that stuffy church hall. But it rang true, clearer than the tolling bell.

He had been brave.

 Everything stilled when he entered the room, as if time had been slowed for that one moment. And who knows, maybe it had. It was Sunnydale. The masked figure stopped fighting Buffy and stepped over an injured party-goer. He had been waiting for this. the guest of honour.

The masked figure had just been killing time fighting the slayers. Xander’s fate was decided before he had got to the party that night. 

Xander’s face had twisted in horror, his eyes met yours and you started to scream. He nodded, resigning himself to what was coming. The figure swung his scythe back, shrugging Faith off him who had tried to tackle him and swung at Xander.

A sickening noise. A splatter of blood sprayed the entire room. Willow dropped your hand in horror, stunned into silence as Xander’s head rolled to Buffy’s feet, the same look in his eye. 

There were media crews set up everywhere outside the church. They were using Xander to tell their stories. It would anger you, but you felt too washed out to say anything. You didn’t even comment when you overheard Harmony on her fifth interview, now talking to the local news outlet.

“Did you know the victim well?”

“Well, yeah. He was a total dork- which was so cute we all loved him” She smiled saccharine sweet making sure nobody had noticed her initial look, “Like, everyone wanted to date him he was a total stud-bucket”

“Were you there that night?”

“Yeah – everyone was, duh! But Carrie totally crashed and I don’t hang around with losers. Even being seen with her is like social suicide!” Harmony maintained firmly, as if that was the most important thing she had been interviewed on, “So I left early”

“Okay- that’s great Harmony. One last question: how are you and the rest of your high school class going to cope after this devastating loss?”

“Well, we’re all gonna graduate as long as we’re not all dead first. I am going to be a counsellor at Camp Crystal Lake in the summer. I’m just pleased to have a break from Sunnydale – senior year has been kind of a bummer so far what with the killings” Harmony shrugged and turned away, swishing her long blonde hair as she walked and her clique followed her. Even Cordelia rolled her eyes as Harmony walked past your group.

You stood motionless for a moment, it felt like a second to all of you but to onlookers there had been enough time to paint a detailed impressionist painting. The only title fitting was: loss. 

“Where do we go from here?” someone finally spoke up.

“To the function”

“I-I don’t think I can” Willow sobbed into Oz’s shoulder.

“It’s worse if we don’t show our faces. Even if it’s just for a minute…” You suggest, really wishing the words hadn’t come out of your mouth. You didn’t want to have to face Xander’s family again, “Angel said he might come, what with the sun going down soon”

“Free alcohol. Score” Faith smiled.

“You’re right” Buffy said, still staring into the distance.

“You wanna get drunk?” Faith raised an eyebrow that lowered when Buffy shook her head.

“No. Y/n’s right. We should go. But we all need to talk – in private, when our heads are clearer. Need to figure out what’s going on” Buffy spoke, her usual self-assured tone was weakened slightly. Her voice hoarse from all of the crying.

You all nodded distantly, walking into the function room together, but feeling miles apart.

Death! Destruction! Mayhem!

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

Rioting of many stores in the centre of town has been widely reported by those on the ground. Many young people, have taken to the streets to ‘protest’ the curfew. These troubled teens do not understand the importance of hard work and have instead taken to looting and picking up where the killer left off: damning our town.

They have old friends to meet; Disco music to dance to and big ticket items to steal from struggling small businesses.

Meanwhile, the death toll of the cases related to the ‘Sunnydale Slasher’ is now 5, and we ask the residents of Sunnydale: when will they learn?

You walked into the magic shop, one of the only shops on the row that appeared to be untouched. Maybe people knew better than to loot a magic shop. The rest were fair game. You had been hoping to find some kind of ingredients that would help you sleep. Or at least, allow you to relax for even a minute. You felt responsible. For everything and you weren’t sure how to deal with it anymore.

But apparently, this store hadn’t been untouched by those taking what they wanted. You stumbled in on a vampire having a midday snack. Spike. Shit.

You started to back out slowly, but he had seen you. He dropped the corpse of the shop-owner and stepped over her, walking slowly towards you. You sighed, you really weren’t in the mood for this. Everyone around you was dying and now you had to talk to one of the undead.

“Don’t move” He warned, pointing at you as he licked the side of his mouth to catch the blood that had been dripping there. When he noticed that you weren’t even scared, almost a little bored – waiting for him to finish he got annoyed, “You know what I could do? I could snap your neck and-”

“I already have one killer after me, what’s one more?” You sighed again. He raised an eyebrow and you just shrugged, not willing to get into it. Not until he said something.

You had sat, sliding down the wall and he had for some unknown reason (to either of you) decided to join you. He was sobering up and needed some kind of distraction at any rate. He had been staring, sitting beside you and scanning your features in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable if you had cared what he was deciding on.

“You seem different, y/n. From last time, I mean. Not sad, but damned near it - you’re almost making me feel better about my Dru”

“I killed someone. Well, not me, but I helped cover it up…” You admit, after a huge sigh. Spike barely even blinked, this kind of confession didn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Who did?”

“Slayers”

“I think they have a licence to kill, love. Don’t make it right but there it is” he shrugged, ready to get back to his feet and look for some liquor. Until you spoke again.

“He was human” You say softly, “Mr Bates. He had a name and a-a family-”

“I’ve killed hundreds of humans, so what?” He spoke over your turmoil. He didn’t feel guilt in that way, so he couldn’t really relate to your low mood.

“It hurts. It aches… but worst of all it makes every experience I’ve ever had… tainted. Wrong in ways I can never describe. It’s like I’m walking through a nightmare, and everyone else is right there with me. It’s not as if I can go to the police. Or talk to anyone else about it… not properly”

“Thanks, that’s sure to make a fella feel special” implying he wasn’t counted in anyone. But he wasn’t very hurt by the statement. This was the first full conversation you had together, he wasn’t that invested in your relationship.

“You know what I mean” You shrugged. And he did. He started to explain to you why he was back. About Dru and everything that had happened since you last saw him. You tried your best to wade through your own thoughts and chip in here and there. He clearly needed to vent too.

You and Spike eventually left together. You had convinced him, after hearing of his predicament, he needed to convince Dru to take him back and he agreed. You walked part of the way before he was going to go and get into his car and you were going to head home.

Night had fallen and you were about to part ways when he came for you. Spike heard him before you saw him. But the figure still made the both of you flinch slightly, before Spike rolled his shoulders and decided he would have to fight doubly hard for showing that weakness.

The hood was down and you could see the mask properly. It was a black material, with a chiselled grey skull etched so forcefully it was as if it was his actual face. The bones were harsh and looked as if it could cut despite it being a plastic mask.

Spike ran straight for him and started to match his offensive blows with his own. Spike appeared to have the upper hand as you just stood and watched. You knew if it came down to it, you could be collateral damage and neither of them would be too bothered.

Somehow, Spike had been knocked to the floor and before he could get up, a scythe had been lodged deep into his torso, hitting the ground beneath him with a horrible metallic sound. The reaper hacked at Spike, who hissed and cursed at him, but didn’t die as the killer had suspected. The reaper stepped back a few paces. It allowed Spike to get to his feet. There was a lot of blood running down Spike’s torso. His shirt was in tatters.

“I bloody liked that shirt!” He snarled, looking down. Trying not to choke on the blood that was moving up his trachea. If he had been mortal, he would have died ten minutes ago.

The masked figure cocked his head, figuring something out. Not working. Not human.

Spike charged at him, throwing punches and blocking the scythe easily. He was stronger. Spike had bit into him and knocked him to the floor. He started to stamp on him repeatedly until a gargled choking sound was heard from behind the mask. He landed on more swift kick for good measure before deciding he was as good as dead.

Spike turned back to you, for some unknown reason, and for probably the first time in his un-life he went to check on you. A human. He felt that you had some kind of bond after you both shared your woes. He was about to ask if you needed any help before he drained the killer and left to find Dru, but the words never left his lips.

“Spike!” You screamed as you saw the killer rise to his feet and remove a stake from his pocket. It all happened in slow motion. Spike wasn’t able to turn quick enough, he had been caught off-guard. Bollocks. The killer plunged the wooden object directly into his heart and the bleach-blonde vampire exploded into a pile of dust.

“You did this” He spoke for the first time. His voice like gravel. He knelt and took a handful of dust and walked towards you. You stumbled back, hitting a brick wall. You had nowhere to run. You were backed into a corner. He threw the dust over you, leaving you spluttering and rubbing your eyes. You were expecting death any moment, but it never came.

When you opened your eyes again, there was nobody except you in the street.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

Many have petitioned the Mayors office due to the large volume of litter and dust that has appeared, often overnight, leaving citizens having to take matters into their own hands. The large number of ash filling our streets tells us that unauthorised fires and barbecues have been set up through town with little being done by authorities to subdue this illegal activity – especially after our newly enforced curfew.

We implore the mayor’s office to make an immediate press release and ensure there is enough man-power to make sure our humble town is cleared during the night.

You were in Giles’ house. It had been left to you. You were touched, but every footstep you made in that house filled your body with guilt.

You were hosting a scooby meeting. You didn’t have any food in, everyone had started to pass around Giles’ single malt, drinking it straight from the glass. Even Buffy took a sip every now and again. You all needed it. Life was starting to become unbearable. Cordelia had joined late, rushing straight from cheer practice.

“What do we know?” She asked as she set her bag down and looked around as if you had the killer tied up in the bathroom, waiting for her to come so you could unmask him. 

“Zip. Nothing”

“The killer is targetting us, that’s all we know. Some kind of twisted revenge. We just need to find out how he knows and why he’s so strong”

“Simple then” Faith shook her head.

“Oh and he takes out anyone in his way, so it’s not just us”

“What did the swim team ever do to him?” You wondered out loud

“It’s the tight pants, he likes a little modesty” Faith snickered and you scowled. How could she be so okay with this? She was the one that had stuck the stake in his hear, finished him off. You were feeling all this guilt and she just didn’t seem to even care.

“But does he even have any proof? Let’s just go to the police and say we’re being targeted”

“Yeah there’s witness protection! We could get new names!” Willow backed Buffy up quickly.

“That won’t change anything. We’re still killers” You mutter and everyone stopped. You had never said anything like that out loud before. You were usually the one that kept everyone optimistic. But it was too hard at the moment.

“Shut up! We’re not! It was an accident. Just an accident”

“How do you explain Giles?” you said glumly, glancing sideways to where his body had been.

“What is up your ass today? God, people are dead. We all feel it. But you’re just giving up! It’s not right!” Cordelia shouted. 

“I’m living in our dead librarians house. Rent free” You sighed, “The house we cleaned and made look like an accident”

“Can it, y/n. None of this is our fault. We gotta do this or we’d be in jail”

“But if we keep doing this, we’re going to die” You replied, “Like Spike… he was gone. Just… dust”

“Well, I can’t say I’m gonna shed many tears” Buffy muttered.

“He was… nice. The last thing he did before he died was come over to check on me”

“Oh come on, y/n! He was probably gonna eat you”

“Whatever. I know what I saw and I can’t help feeling that you’re suddenly on team psycho” you muttered. Faith was watching in interest, but didn’t speak up again. She took another swig of alcohol and shrugged. You couldn’t help think you saw a satisfied smirk on her face, but it may have been a trick of the light. Or the whiskey. You set the glass down and went to see what Willow was looking at some research. 

Giles had left some books open on his desk. He had been looking into the Sunnydale slasher, it seemed. When the books gave you nothing, you turned to the internet. You all started looking for some magical solution. There had to be something.

As the night wore on and the words got blurrier, it was getting harder to concentrate. And harder to get along.

“There’s no- no trace!” Willow said, getting more frustrated, “I can’t find anything”

“Maybe if someone did less cheating on her boyfriend and more reading” Cordelia snapped.

“That’s so not fair! I’m doing more than you!”

“Will, you’re doing the same amount as her” You offered. Cordelia had been researching too.

“Why are you always on her side – you’re supposed to be my best friend”

“I’m just being fair”

“You think this doesn’t involve you, huh?” Faith suddenly stood up and stared you down. You had been the first to admit you were at the centre of it all, but the way she phrased the comment, just made you snap.

“Well, you were the bitch that killed the poor man and managed to be surprisingly cool about it. Maybe you’ve done this before. Maybe, you did it on purpose!” You shouted and Faith pushed you hard. You landed on your ass.

“Fuck you!” She screamed. Not as cool or collected as you thought. The flash in her eyes spelled danger. It concealed guilt and deceit. It told you everything you needed to know. You got to your feet, walked straight out of the room and slammed your bedroom door. Allowing them to let themselves out.

Cordelia had gotten worked up as you stormed out, standing up to Buffy and shouting, “Sunnydale would have been better without you in it! All you do is attract stuff like this. You know who I blame, Buffy? You. You’re a Slayer all wow and look at me but what have you done? What have you done to protect any of us?!” Cordelia flung her arms out in annoyance, the glass that had been holding the whiskey flying out of her hand and crashing to the floor.

“Cordelia-” Buffy started.

“No, let her speak” Faith said nodding along.

“They’re picking us off one by one and of you – either of you – have done anything except hide bodies and celebrate that you’re slayers so you’re not gonna die! What about us!? What about people that are meant to be your friends?” Cordelia shouted. She was scared. She was angry. She couldn’t trust any of them anymore. You had given in. Willow just agreed with Buffy and she had a history with her. Buffy and Faith didn’t seem to be anything and she just wanted to escape. Hopefully with her life intact.

“Cor, we’re doing everything-”

“You’re not! You’re so not!”

“So what’s your plan then, huh? Lay down and wait for the killer to come get you? ‘Cause I haven’t heard anythin’ helpful come out of your mouth” Faith

“Shut up anyway, you just got here and you expect us to care? I hope you go next!” Cordelia screamed in Faith’s face. Faith just shrugged, but the whole room could tell that had stung her. She then turned back to Buffy,  “This is your fault, Buffy. This, everything that has happened since last Halloween is your fault”

“Get out” Buffy said firmly, “Go!” she raised her voice as a tear slid down her cheek and Willow quickly went to comfort her.

“Fine. I’ve had enough! I’m leaving – I’m moving! I don’t wanna see any of you ever again!” Cordelia shouted, slamming the front door behind her and cursing every single one of you as she huffed and stalked away into the night.

[hashtagartistlife]

Maybe fate was called fate because some things weren’t choices; some things were simply written into his DNA, woven into the very fabric of the universe. World orders. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. He is in love with Kuchiki Rukia.

Kuchiki Rukia is dying.  

Ten years after the defeat of Yhwach, it’s time Ichigo and Rukia started facing some truths— about the world, about themselves, and about each other. 

this is all i have of this fic for now (this and a tiny little bit of chapter 3), i guess it’ll be updated when i woman the fuck up and wrack up enough nerves to keep writing which im hoping will be sometime this decade :’/ but i might post chapters i have for other unfinished fics i have over the next few days so if you’re into unfinished fics (read: literally nobody) then stick around!!! 

premise for this fic | chapter 1 here | this is chapter 2

________________________________________________________________

f r a y

by hashtagartistlife

________________________________________________________________

Two 

.

.

.

9:12 am 

Kurosaki Clinic

When Renji wakes up the next morning to find Rukia safely asleep beside him, he feels the tension across his shoulders ease somewhat. They’d both been a little worried about how her sleepwalking habit might fit into this visit (even though neither of them had voiced their concerns out loud), he more so than she for reasons he had yet to disclose to her. Her breathy sigh of ‘Ichigo?’ rings in his ears. He hadn’t seen a point in telling Rukia about that, not when she was still refusing to admit she had a problem in the first place. She’d just feel needlessly guilty and isolate herself even more. Renji knows how Rukia works. What he doesn’t know is how to break through that shell she builds around herself, how to draw her out of it and get her to face her problems head-on. 

No, he admits (and he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a trace of bitterness in the way he thought it), that’s always been Ichigo’s specialty. He looks across the rowdy breakfast table to his friend, who is sitting uncharacteristically silent with a mug of something dark and unappetising in his hands. His eyes are shadowed, tired, and when he meets Renji’s gaze he starts almost guiltily before curving his lips into an uneasy smile. 

The hell’s all that about? Renji thinks, but then Ichika slams into his knee, shoving a glass of orange juice into his face, and he puts the moment out of his mind. The rest of the morning is filled with trying out some godawful beverage called ‘coffee’ at Orihime’s behest, wrangling Ichika into human world clothes, and sending the children off, along with their mothers, to go meet Sado. He and Ichigo stay back, Ichigo to tend to his clinic and he to go see Urahara. Since gensei visits were so few and far between, even on what was ostensibly a holiday they had been saddled with checking in on the shopkeeper to exchange news and technology. Renji figures he might as well get that out of the way first, and catch up with Sado later. 

At least, he figures that until Ichigo corners him just before he walks out the door, a dark expression on his face. He looks uncomfortable, standing in the doorway of his own house, a hand on the back of his neck, and Renji notes with a kind of detached surprise that if Ichigo hadn’t been slumping, they’d be more or less at a height now. He raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question. 

“A— about Rukia—” Ichigo stumbles over the syllables in her name, and stops, wetting his lips, looking nervous. A sense of foreboding settles into Renji’s gut; Ichigo hasn’t looked this worried in— well, a decade. He stays quiet, letting Ichigo finish his question. “Has she ever— has she ever sleepwalked before?”

He freezes in his tracks; frantically, Renji rewinds last night in his mind. It’s no use; he’d been out for the count for a solid eight hours. If he hadn’t been so tired lately, he’d have thought someone had spiked his drink. Try as he might, he can’t remember Rukia slipping out of bed at all. But she’d been back in bed by the morning, so someone must have intercepted her—

Ichigo. Rukia’s voice, ghostly in his mind, calling his name. Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo—

His breath leaves him in a long, long sigh, and Renji closes his eyes before gesturing for Ichigo to sit. 

. 

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6:53 am

Ichigo doesn’t go back to his bed after the kiss. Instead he sits outside the clinic, on the cold hard asphalt, for one eternity— two— til the sun starts lightening the end of the street and the moon grows paler in the sky. He can still feel Rukia on his skin, in his veins, lingering like a drug that refuses to clear. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be empty of her touch now that he’s known it. 

When the moon finally disappears and the sun well and truly risen, he picks himself up from the ground and stumbles back into the house, feeling like he was the sleepwalker now. The sight of their children sprawled out together in their blanket fort brings the reality of what he’s done rushing back to him. He can’t help the reflex that brings his fingers up to ghost over his lips, like a lovesick teenager. The breath leaves his lungs like he’s been punched, and he turns away from the kids, sleeping angelically side-by-side. He can’t bear the thought of facing either of them, of facing anyone in this household any more. 

What does he do now? Does he go back to bed, pretend nothing ever happened— slip into his place beside Orihime and forget the fact that his heart is beating again for the first time in ten years? Does he come clean to her and beg forgiveness, tell her he loves her and it won’t ever happen again, or does he lock this away in a dark recess of his mind, just like he’s done with his shinigami powers and everything related to her for the last decade? His mind casts around frantically for excuses — he was tired. It was the middle of the night. Hell, he doesn’t even know if it really happened anymore — was everything a fever dream, triggered by the immense relief of seeing Rukia again? But his blood is thrumming in his veins, and the power he’d spent his entire adult life crushing down is once again swirling and eddying just under his skin, exactly like it had when he was seventeen. His hands are shaking, and his skin feels hot. He can’t lie to himself. Rukia was here. Rukia’d kissed him. He’d kissed her back. 

He drags his trembling hands over his eyes, down his face; slumps into a chair in the kitchen and attempts to evade the question that becomes more pressing with every second. What now? It was clear that Rukia had no idea what had happened. The weight of this transgression was his alone to carry. Even if she had remembered, the fault lay with him— she’d been asleep, but he’d been wide awake and had pulled her towards him. 

A part of him— the good part, the noble part, the part that had once forced its way through layers of hollow to tell his zanpakutou to fuck off out of his fight with Byakuya— is yelling at him to confess, to lay himself at Orihime’s mercy and take whatever comes from it. But a larger, more insistent part of him is asking, for what? What does telling Orihime accomplish, but the breaking of four hearts? He has never deserved Orihime, with her soft smiles and kind words to his rough edges; the fact that he is, once again, an awful person to her— for her— is not news. What is the point of ruining her spun-sugar smile with something that will never happen again—

liar

—especially when it doesn’t just involve him? If he confesses, it’s not just his head on the line; it’s Rukia’s, too, no matter the fact that she was asleep at the time. And he might be willing to risk everything he ever is or was for far less than this, but there is no way in hell he will do that to Rukia. Not for some one-off sleepwalking incident that she had no control over, and if it happens again he’ll just push her away—

liar

— and oh, god, was this a thing that happened often? Rukia’d always been a deep sleeper; she was, despite everything she insisted to the contrary, very clearly not okay if she was sleepwalking like this. 

As his thoughts spiral back to the cause of his turmoil, Ichigo becomes acutely aware of her reiatsu upstairs, thrumming rapidly like a hummingbird’s wings. It seems lighter and more unsettled than he remembers it being, and the tinge of instability to it as it flares and retreats irregularly unnerves him. Rukia’s reiatsu control has always been top-class, so this distinct lack of it triggers alarm bells in his mind. He swallows, and attempts to smooth down the ragged edges of her power with his; but wherever his reiatsu brushes against hers, it just flares brighter and more powerful and he has to give up, lest it disturb Renji or the kids.

It's been a while since he's felt someone else’s reiatsu like this, but he knows this isn't normal; concern eats at him even as it wars with an urge to ignore it and bury everything about this incident as deep as possible. Rukia isn’t an idiot, she would have gotten help if it was something serious—but would she, really? He knows better than anyone how stubborn she can be when she thinks she’s being a burden. She’d die before she let someone else take the fall for her. 

He closes his eyes. 

He scowls; ten years it’s been, and she’s still so— so— so her. Longer hair, a husband and child, a Captain’s haori, and nothing matters; she’s still stubborn, still a bitch who lives to help everyone else but won’t let anyone help her. It's evident in the way she refuses to say she’s tired, the way that Renji’s eyes follow her around everywhere, worried. She’s still the self-sacrificing idiot she’d been from day one, and he—

He is still the coward he’d been twelve years ago, when he’d watched her bleed out on the concrete before him and only then been spurred into action. 

This isn’t about him. If Rukia is ill, then he has to let someone know— someone who can actually do something about it. His feelings — whatever they are— does not factor into the equation. This is about Rukia—

— so, he needs to talk to Renji. 

.

.

.

10:18 am

“Has Rukia ever sleepwalked before?”

A moment of tension across Renji’s features, and then a long, long sigh; he gestures for Ichigo to sit, and the two of them shuffle over to the recently vacated kitchen table. Renji rubs his face tiredly, and Ichigo’s sense of foreboding grows. 

“... Last night, huh?” Renji says, and Ichigo almost jumps out of his skin; did he know? Could he see— was the mark of Rukia's lips on his visible, indelible, the way it felt like to him? Could everyone read it on his face, that he and Rukia—

Renji’s voice is weary as he continues. “Yeah. Yeah, she's sleepwalked before. The past few years, actually. What did she do last night? How did you find her?”

— kissed—  “She— she walked out of the clinic and I heard the door open. Renji, is she— is she okay—”

Renji leans his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands. “I don't know,” he breathes, frustration dripping from every syllable. “I don't know, she won't tell me, you know how she is—”

Did he ever. Ichigo remembers with vivid clarity the time she'd sustained a stomach wound, back in the days before Soul Society; she hadn’t told him for three days, and had only agreed to go see Urahara when she'd finally collapsed in his arms. 

“ — don't think I've tried—? God, doctors, healers, we've tried everything, Kuchiki-Taichou’s worried out of his mind. But she won't have any of it, says she won't let us waste time fussing over her when there are better things to worry about—”

“That fucking idiot,” Ichigo mutters, and Renji barks out what is almost a laugh. 

“Right? Drives me up the fucking wall. Wouldn't be Rukia if she didn't.”

“Guess not.”

Renji cracks a strained smile before it fades away into seriousness again. “It wasn't this bad before,” he says, and Ichigo sits up straight. 

“Recent thing, then?”

“Depends what you'd classify as recent. I mean, she's never been a heavy sleeper—”

At this, Ichigo interrupts. “Wait, really? She's always slept like the dead—” 

Renji gives him a look, and Ichigo remembers who it is that is sharing her bed now. He shuts up. 

“ — as I said, she's never slept too well, even during our Rukon days, and it got pretty bad after the war, but it wasn't— wasn’t to this extent, you know? At least, not till she had Ichika. And then— it was like a switch flipped. She couldn't get to sleep at night, and she could barely keep her eyes open during the day. It started interfering with her work, and you know how that would have killed her; we started to go see a bunch of people for it but nothing seemed to help. And then she started sleepwalking—”

Something cold crawls up Ichigo’s spine.

“She— at first, we didn't know where it was that she was going in her sleep. she wandered the Kuchiki Manor gardens a lot, sometimes she just paced around inside the house. Sometimes she got out of the Kuchiki property and was well into the streets before we found her and brought her back. I didn't know where she was trying to go—” 

Renji breaks off, and looks Ichigo dead in the eye. 

“— till one morning I woke up, and found her at Sokyouku Hill.” 

Ichigo’s blood turns to ice. 

“It was bloody Sokyoku Hill, Ichigo. Every single time— inside the Manor, in the gardens, on the streets. She was always trying to get to Sokyouku Hill. North-north west from the Kuchiki Manor. I—”

Renji’s expression turns supplicating, as if asking him for an answer, but Ichigo has none to give; he’s rooted to the spot by the sheer horror he’s feeling, Rukia strung up against the Sokyouku vivid in his mind. That collar around her neck, a red slash splitting her throat open; her eyes, glazed over with tears. Her skin dyed orange and yellow from the heat of it all. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Ichigo, for fuck’s sake I can’t even get her to admit that there’s something wrong. I just—” 

Renji drops his head into his hands. Very softly — so soft that Ichigo is sure he isn’t meant to hear these next words— he says to himself: 

“Ten years. Ten years, and I’m still not enough.” 

Ten years. Enough to fell mountains; enough to dry rivers and move oceans. 

Not enough to change a heart. 

When Renji looks up at Ichigo again, his gaze is edged with steel. 

“She says your name.” 

“I— what?” 

“She says your name, when she walks out to Sokyouku Hill. She says your name.” 

A memory, in his mind: Rukia, ethereal in the moonlight. Ichigo? 

Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m here. 

Ichigo doesn’t know what to say. 

Eventually, Renji breaks their impasse; he sighs and raps the table before getting up. “I’m not such a small man as to beat you to a pulp over that, Ichigo, stop looking like you think I’m going to bite your head off.” 

“I’m not—” he protests automatically, but Renji shushes him with a wave of his hand. 

“You are, but that’s not the point.” He ambles over to the door and looks over his shoulder at him, one hand poised on the handle. “If— if there’s anything you might be able to do for her—” 

“Renji—”

“Please,” Renji says, and even though this time, he isn’t on his knees half-dead before him, Ichigo knows what it’s costing him to make this request. “Please… help her.” 

Of course, Ichigo wants to reply, She’ll be fine, I’ll save her. Rukia’ll be safe—

But he isn’t fifteen anymore. 

“I’ll— try,” he says, lamely, and that is the best they can do. Renji nods. 

“Gonna go see Urahara. He might have some tricks up his sleeve,” he says, but he doesn’t look like he believes what he’s saying. Ichigo waves him off, and Renji slips away.

The sound of the clinic door swinging shut echoes in his wake. 

.

.

.

3:02 pm

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Click.

“...Hello?”

“Kurosaki-san?”

“...... Urahara-san?”

“Ah, Kurosaki-san, thank goodness you picked up. If you aren’t busy, I’d appreciate your presence at the Shoten as soon as possible.” 

“What? Me? Why?”

A pause; Ichigo finds, for no good reason whatsoever, that he is holding his breath.

“Ah, well. You see, that is—”

Between one accelerating heartbeat and the next—

“Kuchiki-san has collapsed.” 

[ammalythic]

I am a -real- troll

[Sorry for my bad English, I’m French. I do my best]

I am an otherkin. I’m a norwegian troll.

~

It's funny to say that now. Realize the truth and finally admit it.

~

I realize that my awakening is not that recent. It’s like I’ve known this since I was a little girl. These kid's feelings and instincts that resurface.

~

Today I remember this "alien" creature I thought I was as kid. These childhood reveries where I thought the aliens would come looking for me on Earth. I would have been born on the wrong planet with the wrong body or something like that ...

~

Is this related to my autism? Probably. Is this related to my trauma? Probably. Is this a reason not to take into account my atypical identity? Certainly not.

~

I have moments when I am nostalgic for my childhood, daydreams that played an important role in my identity construction. I remember these drawings of a little girl where I told how my world was, the meadows, the forests, the rivers and especially its inhabitants. Little monsters with elf ears and lion tails. Nordic miniature creatures, belly plump, fur on the skin. Where the animal is.

~

Because of the illness, I lived a long time with sadness and worry. Little lonely child that I was, enclosed in its shell, I thought of my creature constantly.

I visualized my people and my universe. Constantly, constantly… I felt like I had this tail, these claws and these fangs, this feeling of being "elsewhere" and my animal reflexes. I had no words yet to explain this powerful feeling of not being completely human.

I tried to keep a journal on them, on my aliens. I was small class. I stopped my diary after three days, because of mockery during the canteen. And that, in front of the whole class. My creatures are not standardized enough, according to the opinions. They are weird, dirty and disgusting. I think, otherwise, that they are rather free and not enclosed in boxes.

~

It was only during my trip to Norway, when I was about 12 years old, that I discovered the term that perfectly suited my feelings. Troll. Norwegian or Scandinavian troll. Rare and animal creature.

~

Today, I make my animality something creative: drawing, writing, making music and let go of my deepest instincts.

I think back to my "child self" and I would like to go back in time to tell it to live, to stop feeling guilty for its feeling of non-humanity, to discover itself fully troll. 

Enjoy for life!

When I draw my trolls on my sketchbook, when they make them happy, I draw them as musicians, clawed paws tapping log drums, I feel alive. I look at the sky filled with orange lanterns and I smile at them, in a moment where sadness and joy are mixed. I almost feel like I believe in their existence. Nostalgia for an ancient lost world. Poor autistic child.

~

I hear the trolls singing in unison. Rhythm in the flesh, real musicians. They howl from the bottom of their being. I hear the trolls howling like the arctic fox howls. Hush. He comes and goes, sneaks, wild, animal and fantastic. It is the echo of sounds in the night, in the forest, the mountains and the mountains. It makes so much sense to me. Listen…

Can you hear it?

[edusquaremaths]

Q8 Exercise1.1 I Class 12 Maths NCERT Chapter 1 Relations and Functions | NCERT solutions

NCERT Class 12Chapter: Relations and FunctionsExercise 1.1Question 8: Show that the relation R in the set A = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5} given by R = {(a, b) : |a – b| is even}, is an equivalence relation. Show that all the elements of {1, 3, 5} are related to each other and all the elements of {2, 4} are related to each other. But no element of {1, 3, 5} is related to any element of {2, 4}.