#retrace xl

[fivekrystalpetals]

Glen, Children of Misfortune, Juries and the Baskervilles

[When I say Glen, I am referring all Glens- past and present: Levi, Oswald, Gil and Leo. hella lot of lore is here that I wanna write about ;-; so I might divide this into different posts let’s see. Also fair warning: I might criticize Oswald’s actions-past and present- a bit, since I love looking at characters from an unbiased pov. Also, maybe some characters’ past actions in order to point to their character development so that too.]

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

2] Choosing a side

I remember treating Oswald as a victim of circumstances while reading the Past Arc/Jack’s Intention Arc and blaming only Jack and Levi for everything that went down,,, but now that I consider on the whole, I have to confess Oswald was also responsible for a major part in the Tragedy. His sin is… (as the catchphrase of this series goes lol) His sin is his passivity. But before Oswald, I want to talk about his successors, Gil and Leo first.

As the story goes, each one of the Glens have faced a point where they must choose a side.

For Gil, it was between Oz and Oswald, whether he wanted to continue as Oswald’s valet (to return to his past) or as Oz’s valet (to live in the present). In fact, this clash between his two sides of loyalty, one drilled into him (Retrace 38) and the other nurtured in him in a healthy manner, already came to a head in the Sablier Arc (Retrace 40).

In the beginning of the same arc, he tried to kill Alice because she was trying to “kill” his “master” and with great difficulty did he stop himself before he ended up doing something drastic. Break, though, thankfully and perhaps due to the power of his Eye of Misfortune, sees through Gil, spots the overlapping thoughts clouding his judgment and goads him into a fight.

“I am the one who seeks to use Oz Vessalius. I am doing harm to your master. Now then, will you try your hand at killing me as well?”

And… Gil actually almost goes ahead with it! He is so overwhelmed by the thoughts the Jury had fed into his mind that he can’t distinguish between friends and foes; all he could think is he had to “kill his master’s enemies.”, no free will of action in him at all. Break snaps him out of him and…. says something so significant I didn’t even realize at the time:

Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius? (…) Isn’t it time you got over being such a spoiled child?

[The “hand” here is his left hand which signifies Gil’s oath to his old Master, Raven and consequently, his past.]

Isn’t it time you got over being such a spoiled child… (Retrace 87)

Or else, you really will end up hurting what’s precious to you by your own hand. (Retrace 69)

(His left hand. Oswald uses his left hand to cast Lacie into the Abyss. I just…. *screams*)

Like I explained in Part 1, if Gil was continued to be raised in the Baskerville household, when he comes of age and becomes the next Glen, in spite of feeling massively guilty, he’d end up casting Vincent into the Abyss because that’s the rule, because he won’t think for himself if that’s indeed what he wanted, because he'd still be obedient to the previous Glen and Jury even after becoming the most powerful head of the household. That’s just how the Glens are.

However, this changed in Retrace 78, when Gil goes up against Oswald and the Baskervilles for Oz.

Gil quite literally cuts off his left arm to NOT “hurt what’s precious to him by his own hand"—he cuts off his connection to his past and his old master and refuses to side with him anymore. He stops being an obedient valet and stands up for Oz, as a friend, of his own accord because that’s what he really wants. He even freely calls him Oz, something he’d been struggling all along as he’d been raised to address his master as such.

His entire character development stemmed from Oz’s positive influence on him. From the beginning, Oz didn’t want a valet or a servant, but a friend by his side. He wanted Gil to be his equal. He always asked Gil to call him by his name and not address him as Master.

[And, ofc, a special mention to Break who had been continually warning him against his obsessive loyalty and pushing him to think for himself.

(He advises him here in Retrace 40; yes, but also he's been doing that since long ago, even before Oz resurfaced from the Abyss (Retrace 13.)):

Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what people say, I— Let me give you a piece of advice. A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade and will someday pierce those you hold dear.

And, Gil, the edgy rebellious teenager that he was at the time, doesn't understand Break at all lol]

Well, all of this contributes to Gil switching sides to save Oz from getting executed and not blindly following Glen on, or rather, in spite of regaining all his misplaced memories. He decides to cut off his left hand, erase the binding oath and make another, this time, legal contract with Raven—and this is so important—all of his own volition.

That ends his passivity and lack of free will. (And Break, like a proud dad, “has stopped fretting about him.” LOL)

.

For Leo, it was this point (Retrace 63):

Yes, chances are that Elliot won’t have believed what Leo said since neither he nor any of the kids at Fianna's house remembers any of the incidents involving Humpty-Dumpty or its contract thanks to its nature of memory deletion/alteration. Still, the fact that Leo didn’t tell him the truth about what had been done to him (Leo feeding him the chain’s blood and unwittingly making him an illegal contractor) or about Isla Yura (Selfishness is a recurring theme in the story; I wanna go into that later but here too—) could be taken as Leo’s “selfishness” to keep his friend alive in spite of him getting fatally injured. Even that aside, it was really his “inaction at the time of crisis” that eventually led Elliot to suffer from an even more painful death.

Yet, he blames the Intention of the Abyss for his actions.

(At this point of the story, Leo is still “an immature brat”; on a side note: remember Break who realized it was his own fault, and not the Intention’s, for forcing her to change the past and bringing a more horrifying fate on the Sinclair family? Yeah, Break is one of the most mature characters in the story and having regretted and learnt from his mistakes, he tries to pass on his experience to the kids so that they won’t repeat his mistakes.)

Before long, Leo does get over being “a spoiled child” and realizes that he had to accept his mistakes and take responsibility before things went from bad to worse. In Retrace 99, he faces the dilemma of choosing a side: stay a bystander and let Oswald go on to his end or stand up and act for what he wants.

And then, for what might be the most selfless reasons of all, Leo decides to not change the past.

Just like Oz-Gil—Leo, who always tried to dig into the world of books because his own real world was unbearable for him, was pulled out of it by Elliot by wanting to be his friend and not his master. Elliot didn’t want an obedient, servile yes-man but a friend who could stand by him yet scold him for his mistakes. “It’s the duty of a valet to correct his master’s actions.”

And so, for Elliot and for the sake of those memories where they met albeit for a short while, those memories being so precious to him that he doesn’t want them to be erased with the alteration of the past, he finally decides to stop being a bystander and confronts Oswald.

[Special shoutout to Break!— because once again it were his last words that helped influence his decision:

…That you’ll never find your future in the past… try as you might to reach back into it!!

Break just keeps tossing around good advice for everyone, even people whom he was not even addressing. Those words were meant for Vince, not Leo; yet Leo too benefits from them agfhsjhahaha]

I know Levi calls his reason “selfish” as well (considering he chooses this for fulfilling a personal desire) but to me, it’s not so. Had he stayed quiet and “passive”, and let Oswald change the past for his split second of thought process—"If I were not Glen, Elliot won’t have to die"—that'd be pretty selfish of him.

And, with that, Leo chooses a side he wants to fight for, no matter how painful his choice is and ends his “passivity”.

.

On the other hand, in Break's and Rufus Barma's words, Oswald never stopped being "a spoiled child" and over and over, keeps "hurting what's precious to him by his own hand". Even after his return to the world in Leo's body, his immediate decision is to kill Lacie to "set things right." Again.

Plus, Oswald did not have such a friend who cared about him unconditionally and wanted to be on equal footing.

Or, well, he did but he cast her into the Abyss and that’s where everything started to go wrong for him.... 

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

[this-idiots-left-eye]

As the Fall Comes

This was a fic I wrote a while back for Inktober18 prompt 1: “Poisonous” about Gilbert’s internal monologue in Retrace XL: “Blindness”

*

It started small. The time when Gilbert was poisoned.

When he first stood up from the banquet table, the room spun, a little too fast, a little too far. And when almost everyone present turned to him with worried faces—(after everything that had happened, why wouldn’t they?)—he assured them he was fine, that maybe he had had a more to drink than he thought, or perhaps the gravity of all that had happened was catching up to him.

Next his head. Small, sharp pains. Like someone was knocking to get in, like a doctor was sticking a needle in different places to see where it would hurt most. Then it was everywhere that hurt most, and the knocking was on every door and window to his mind. He could do nothing but hold his head in his hands, curse, and pray whoever it was couldn’t get in, and would stop trying.

Then he was coughing, and when he pulled his hand from his mouth, crimson remained. And then he was even vomiting, and Vincent ran to his side, saying his name like he was dying—because, of course, he was. At least, on principle.

Vincent had made sure that the whole house was frantic, as if on fire, that they were calling the family doctor, using anything and everything they had to save his life.

And somewhere in the middle, he heard Elliot swear under his breath something about the Headhunter, and how one day he would kill him for what he had done to their family.

He didn’t remember much of that night, fever, and blood, and…

And after all that, after all he had put them through, after all his own wonderings Is this really it? Is this where I die? Will I never get to see Oz again? He…was fine.

Fine. Not even a scar, a cold, a leftover cough. When the morning came, and his pillows, sheets, and clothes were changed, all that was left was white, and he could breathe fine, and there was nothing to show he had almost died the night prior.

Everyone said it was a miracle, (Bernice said something about how the Abyss had saved him), that there was no other explanation, as no one (or almost no one) comes back from behind poisoned, and they should thank the angels that the Nightrays hadn’t had to lose someone else.

At the time, he believed it was the worst thing he had ever had to experience.

Until he learned there's one other thing that works the same way: thoughts can be poisonous too.

They too, started small.

It started with Vincent whispering things in his ear, (things about Alice, and Chains, and killing) and “Why won’t you kill her, Gil?” asking him questions about things Gilbert denied, but he realized quickly had always been there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. And he supposed it must have started much earlier than this. His brother’s words brought them to the forefront, started a record of them playing on repeat. He didn’t know how, or where, or when, but somewhere in the middle, the thoughts decided to change directions, decided to stop saying No, of course I won’t, I can’t. I would never kill Alice, how could Vince even suggest something like that? to Maybe he’s not completely wrong, it’s her…She’s the one destroying my master’s body…This is her fault, and the answer’s so simple, if I just got rid of her… skirting around the single word, until he was admitting it full well: If I just killed her, if I just got the chance, then my Master would be safe, he’d be okay, all I need to do is kill her, and it started sounding less horrible bit by bit. And then somewhere, somewhen, somehow, that one word started filling up his mind, until it was all he could think, the record of questions replaced with some dark chant of kill, kill, kill my Master’s enemies, kill…

Then Sablier. Sablier, where his head, his hand, ached, and where he got so very close.

That knocking in his head, growing in intensity the longer he left the door unopened.

But they had already gotten in, and now they were knocking on the inner walls.

The chance came for him to fulfill the call of this dark melody, and he was inches from action, if he just—

Instead he…saved her.

Saved her. How? Why? Why, when his thoughts bent to blood, how could his body choose to act in mercy?

It was in Sablier when he started to truly understand that this wasn’t the first time he had tasted this poison; somewhere in his cloudy past he had once thought If I just left Vincent behind, if he was gone…then I’d be fine…But when he’s gone, who will need me? The words reverberated back to him from some time he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, remember, and with them, this pain in his head. His breath caught in his throat, disgust rearing in his heart. How could he ever think something like that? Why? What would bring him to—?

But he didn’t dare think, Isn’t this the same? Am I not thinking the same thing right now?

And maybe this wasn’t the first time those words came to mind about Alice either. Maybe, once upon a time, he had said them aloud. He could hear an echo of his own childish tone—

Not just Alice, someone had tried to hurt his Master, and he had to protect him. He had to. There was no other option, no other choice to make. If anyone tried to hurt his Master, he had to protect him, even if that meant killing those who stood opposed to him.

All the while, his head throbbing. Had it always been this way? Had it always been like this? He was starting to forget what it felt like to be okay.

And it just had to be in Sablier when that man showed up. When Xai came, and brushed Oz aside again. Gilbert’s legs moved before his mind commanded them.

Long ago, when he was still too young to have blood on his hands, that one word—kill—had become so strong he lifted a gun and pointed it at Oz’s father.

He would have done it too—pulled the trigger. He wanted to. His jaw set, tears in his eyes, questions he knew the answers to (but everyone else denied) burning on his tongue, hands shaking, but aim true… it would have been so simple; just one motion, a single act, pull the trigger, and all this pain would be over.

But, it wouldn’t be. Over, that is. Gilbert knew that Oz was not like himself. Oz did not have these thoughts spinning through him—Oz had not been poisoned by them. And if Oz returned to a world where his father was dead, killed by his most dedicated servant, in some twisted show of loyalty, he wouldn’t be proud, or grateful, or anything of the sort. He knew it wasn’t what Oz wanted, no matter how much he had been hurt by this man. And if Gilbert did this now, it would be like he was saying, with the voice of a bullet, Oz isn’t coming back. So he didn’t, not then. There were pathways out of the thoughts, out of the chanting. The poison subsided, went dormant in his blood.

But in Sablier, things were different. In Sablier there were memories, and they made his head pound to escape his own skull. In Sablier there were voices, and his left hand was aching and What was going on with Oz—

Was this what they meant by poisonous gas? Did Pandora, Break and Reim, know about the thoughts, the memories? About the poison in his mind?—

And in Sablier he tried to kill Alice, and in Sablier, maybe some other him, in some other time, wanted to leave his brother behind too, but couldn’t bring himself to do—(not because he cared, but because he needed to be needed, and he wouldn’t admit that he still did)—and these memories, these memories, these memories—

If only he could cough them up too. If only he could turn them to a few drops of blood staining his gloves, rather than his entire past. But they stuck in his lungs, on his tongue, and they rotted there.

The word, the gun, were the only things left, in his hand, in his heart. The only thing left to do.

If only Xai could have been just a little bit kinder, just a tiny bit more forgiving. It wasn’t hard, was it, just to show one shred of human decency?

(Gilbert might just have changed the past for Oz, then. Might have erased the moment when Oz’s own father said he wished he had never been born, might have kept him from tossing him into the Abyss. Even now, if Raven told him he could, would he still—?)

How could this man stand there with a smile on his face, like he hadn’t ripped Oz apart all those years ago? Tossed his heart to the cobblestones, then, if that wasn’t enough, cast him into the Abyss itself? Like he didn’t care, and wouldn’t even try…

Gilbert would have done it. He no longer had anything with which to fend the thoughts off. They were enveloping his mind, and maybe there was no him left, just these sickening memories, a knocking that made his head throb, and the word kill.

Every intention in him was set on the task.

And it had been Break—Why did it have to be Break?—who stopped him.

If it had been Oz, things would've been different. If it had been Oz, things would have made sense. Gilbert would have listened to every word from the very beginning, and it would have been easy to stifle the thoughts, to come to the answer, to follow Oz out of this place, out of the dark…wouldn’t it?

Oz may have yelled, or kicked him in the shin, pulled on his hair, and called him an idiot, but he still would have made an effort to care, to understand, recognize what he was doing, and why. Oz would have stayed there, and talked him down from this place, slowly, made him put down the gun, second by second, drawing the poison from his veins in the same method it came.

But he didn’t get Oz. Oz was too shaken up himself. Oz was somewhere else, just as broken and hurting and Gilbert had to protect him.

(But how can I protect him if I’m not with him?)

Instead he got Break. And Break wasn’t kind like Oz. The Mad Hatter had severed the scene in two, he stuck his staff between Gilbert’s neck at the rest of the world, a barrier between him and the man he wanted to kill, ruining his chances of following the thoughts’ call through, in one fluid motion. And Break’s words were not compassionate like Oz’s surely would have been. For the most part, they were not cruel, but Break never seemed to make the effort to care.

Gilbert’s words hadn’t been any better, they grew more monstrous by the moment—(maybe that was the blood, the vomit on his tongue)—and that’s when they finally spilled out, “I have to kill him!”

Still—

(If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have seen how they made Break pause…)

“Gilbert-kun. That isn’t your will talking, is it?”

And it hurt so much. His head, his hand, he couldn’t even think with this pulsing, the blood in his throat—

“Who put that into your head?”

And he had to do it, he had to—

“Then you can kill me too!”

He had no choice, he had to follow the thoughts though to the end, he was their puppet—

Wait, what?

Did he really just put his gun to Break’s head?

Sure, Break could but insufferable at times, but was that enough to kill him?

“Let me ask you just one thing. Is the one you need...really Oz Vessalius?”

And then, of course, because it was Break, after saying the thing that cut to the heart of him, he had to jab his staff into his gut to finish the job. Punish Gilbert for holding him at gunpoint, even for a second, even at Break's own command, saying he let him off easy.

Break had never intended to be kind. He never gave any thought to the impact of things like words, and “worthless emotion,” did he? He had even admitted this fact himself.

And Gilbert had turned his gun on him, maybe even thought for a second That’s right, you’re an enemy too, I have to kill you. Something dark in him knew blood needed to follow blood, something dark in him needing to fire on someone, because someone, anyone, had to pay for all this pain in his heart, in his head, and he couldn’t think straight with this ache, this poison…

But, of course, in a moment, the very notion became so silly. This was Break after all. Sure, he was annoying, rude, maybe even cruel, but killing him for it was a bit far. And wasn’t Break somehow—(he didn’t like to say it too much)—his friend?

Except, when he had tried to apologize, Break had shut him up by shoving Emily into his jaw.

The question remained in the back of Gilbert’s mind: What if he’s right? What if it isn’t Oz I need? But he pushed the question down as far as he could, didn’t want to think, to wonder for a second that maybe…

Was this another poison? These questions of Maybe it’s not Oz…Or was questioning the poison’s intentions, bit by bit, was severing it at the seams, quickly and thoroughly as possible, the antidote? Was the antidote realizing just how very silly the thought was, from the very beginning?

He found himself so far from his reason for doing this; Oz. He hadn’t for a second thought what Oz would think about his actions. That had been what had kept him from the trigger before. Not this time. Though it was the only thing that mattered, he hadn’t even thought about it. It had just been pain, and knocking, and that one recurrent note.

So maybe, just maybe, Break was right. Maybe it wasn’t Oz, maybe—

Or maybe not.

And he wasn’t ready to tell Oz any of that. Especially not when he didn’t have an answer himself yet.

But he did tell Oz the truth. The thoughts flared back up, even afterwards, and Oz had been so quick to realize they were ridiculous—and, when Gilbert thought about it, wasn’t it weird that Break had took them so seriously, when Oz had laughed?—laughed, and said “What’re you saying? You’d never be able to do that!”

“No!” Gilbert had to prove the poison was real, “I tried to kill her!”

“But you couldn’t, could you? See, now that’s the Gilbert I know!”

He said it like he knew him better than Gilbert knew himself. It was starting to seem like everyone knew him better than he knew himself.

Maybe that’s how poison works. Maybe it made sense; the others could still breathe, after all.

Still, Oz’s words…and Break’s…

It was after they got back from Sablier, after Break had collapsed, after Oz had told him how silly it was, and after they got back from Rytas’ mansion, after the Headhunter showed up again, (the same Headhunter, surely that had tried to poison him before), Gilbert decided there was one thing left he should to.

He took a deep breath, and screwed up his resolve.

“Break?”

“Mm?” Gilbert had managed to find Break alone in the kitchen, making tea, and stealing candy from a place up high where Sharon had apparently tried to hide it. Break turned, leaning against the counter. “What is it, Gilbert-kun?”

“I…um…” Gilbert fumbled his words, realizing it was a lot harder to say it aloud, especially to him, “I wanted to say…” he looked at the ground.

“Looks like a kitty’s got Gil-Gil’s tongue.” Break took a sip of tea, looking smug.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists, biting back any insults that came to his lips. “About what happened in Sablier—”

Break looked up, realizing where Gilbert was going with this.

“Oh?” Break interrupted him, grinning, “Didn’t we already make it clear you were not to apologize?” He inclined his head towards Emily.

Why did he always have to make things harder? Gilbert was just trying to show him a little kindness, and he always had to spit it back in his face.

“Well, actually I, uh, didn’t come to apologize,” he cleared his throat, “I am sorry though, for,” he felt his cheeks growing hot, “pointing my gun at you. But, um, well—”

Break laughed, picking up his tea, slipping a few candies into his pocket, walking by, “Spoiled brats like you have the luxury of—”

“Thank you.” Gilbert said, more loudly than intended.

Break paused, shock flitting into his eye. He turned back to him, brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For what you said…in Sablier. I—”

“Oh,” Break breathed again. “Well, you seemed like you were in need of a good ass-kicking,” he brushed Gilbert’s heartfelt words off.

“But you—”

Break ruffled Gilbert’s hair in response, walking away, chuckling.

Like hell I’ll ever say something nice to him again. Gilbert glared after him.

But as the older man rounded the corner, Gilbert didn’t realize there was something genuine in that laugh.

Because Break knew what it was like. He too had once tasted this poison. He knew what it was like to have word kill infect your thoughts. And worse, he knew what it was like to have blood fill your past, to the point where you had to change your name for it to stop following you, stop calling to you. And in that moment, he was the only one who could have understood, and stopped, him.

Maybe if Gilbert was listening more closely, he may have realized there was something real beneath his laugh. But what Break certainly wouldn’t let him know was his exact thought at the time, which was very different from Gilbert’s own:

At least one of us is starting to see clearly.

[joachimnapoleon]

"I only want to be your best friend..."

It's Father's Day, so a perfect excuse to share more of some of my favorite series of letters--those from Murat to his eldest daughter, Letitia (who was ten years old at the time). Here are three from May of 1812, when Murat was on his way to join the Grande Armée for the Russian campaign; he would not see his family again until the end of January 1813.

[Transcribed in Murat's own original all-lowercase; apparently he rarely used punctuation either, so I'm assuming the original editor was the one who added it into these to make them more readable. The occasional variations in spelling of Letitia's name (ex. "Loetitia") are also Murat's. Any translation errors are my own.]

***

St. Cloud, 7 May 1812

my dear letitia, i arrived in good health, though sorry for having left my good children, but happy to have seen the queen again who is going to get en route for naples. my dear letitia, she returns alone, papa will not accompany her; honor, the well-being of my children, the interest of my kingdom command this great sacrifice, the love that i bear for the emperor is as to me a law to go and fight; but don’t be distressed: all the gods will watch over me. your mama, the love of my peoples will safeguard you during my absence: and prompt successes will soon restore to you your papa, and he will return to you, i hope, even more worthy of himself and of you. make wishes for me, heaven always grants the prayers of beautiful souls like yours, pure like those of all my children. you, do not cry on my absence, sigh only for my return, our sighs will be heard, because i will imitate you, i will ask heaven for a prompt victory, and a prompt return to the midst of my family. yet work hard, make mama and mme de roquemont happy, write to me often, your letters bring me happiness. give my regards to mmes picerno and ferrier and to mme athénaïs. embrace louise, my good louise, for me. i will look forward to embracing you. how i am going to miss our lovely concerts, and our lovely games of wist and our charming soirées: these memories will console me. i need them. farewell, farewell, my daughter. i embrace you with all my heart.

your good papa

J. Napoléon

***

Paris, 15 May 1812

my dear loetitia. mama will give you this letter. i will not accompany her. i am going to be separated again from her and from my children, but i hope that my absence will not be long and that soon it will be permitted to me to go and embrace you. i will send you three mantles and three dresses each, wear them for love of me, they cannot make you any more beautiful, but they will recall to you your papa. i await your portrait with impatience. farewell, my dear children, make mme de roquemont happy and love your good papa always. speak often of him: you will always be in his memory. i embrace you with all my heart, as well as my good louise.

your affectionate father

J.N.

***

Posen, 24 May 1812

my dear letitia, it has been a long time since i left you and this time must have seemed for you as extremely long as it has for me. when will i see you again? soon i hope because the emperor is accustomed to getting to work quickly; but nothing has begun yet, we await the signal of battles and only then will i be able to fix a little closer the time of my return. how beautiful will be the day when i will embrace my beautiful letitia, when i will embrace all my children, when i will be united with them to be separated from them no more! already your lovely mama enjoys this happiness. yet my letitia works, sings, makes great progress, perfects her youthful talents, she will want to pleasantly surprise me upon my arrival and prove to me by facts how much she has taken advantage of the moments of our separation. yes, you should apply yourself and follow with courage the course of your studies. how happy you will be one day, having acquired such knowledge, such talents, and to be able, in any event, to be sufficient in yourself to make those happy to whom you have attached your destiny. your papa, your mama will be themselves happy for your happiness. do you still ride your horse? i’m sorry for taking away gaeta [ed. note–one of Letitia’s horses] and i am tempted to send the order to return her to you. however i will look for a pretty polish pony that i will send you, you will ride him often, you will love him very much, papa will have given him to you. –you don’t neglect dancing, you always study english, german, i don’t speak to you of italian, you are neapolitan and you should know your language. take great care with your writing, a beautiful character gives a new grace to all that one writes; you read well, because madame de roquemont reads marvelously, and you know how much a lovely diction lends its charms, even to the best of writing; read a lot, but may your readings be within your grasp. avoid with care that which can bring into your young heart any trouble, or agitation. at your age one should only experience sweet and tranquil feelings. you will not abandon drawing, you will like painting. the arts awaken the imagination, elevate the soul; what sublime talent to be able to revive on canvas one who is no longer, or whose absence we mourn, to retrace on paper the places we have loved. but i see that i’m moralizing, that i’m setting myself up as governess, this isn’t my intention. i would badly fulfill such delicate functions, and you would be losing in the change. i only want to be your best friend, the most tender father.

tell achille that i will write him one of these days; kiss your mama for me, make her very happy, her health has need of calm and happiness. kiss your brothers and your sister. i embrace you with all my heart.

your good father

J.N.

***

The entire translated series of these letters, Quarante lettres de Joachim Murat à sa fille Laetitia, can be found in four parts on my blog at the links below:

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/15/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-one-i-x/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/18/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-two-xi-xx/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/24/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-three-xxi-xxx/

https://projectmurat.blog/2019/11/30/forty-letters-to-letitia-part-four-xxxi-xl/

[antihero-writings]

As the Fall Comes—Pandora Hearts Fic for Inktober Prompt 1: Poisonous (Full Fic)

Fic Title: As the Fall Comes

Fic synopsis: An in-depth look into Gilbert's internal monologue in Vol 10, Retrace XL: Blindness, using the theme of Inktober 2018 Prompt 1: Poisonous.

Character Focus: Gilbert 

Fic:

It started small. The time when Gilbert was poisoned.

When he first stood up from the banquet table, the room spun, a little too fast, a little too far. And when almost everyone present turned to him with worried faces (after everything that had happened, why wouldn’t they?) he assured them he was fine, that maybe he had had a more to drink than he thought, or perhaps the gravity of all that had happened was catching up to him.

Next his head. Small, sharp pains. Like someone was knocking to get in, like a doctor was sticking a needle in different places to see where it would hurt most. Then it was everywhere that hurt most, and the knocking was on every door and window to his mind. He could do nothing but hold his head in his hands, curse, and pray whoever it was couldn’t get in, and would stop trying.

Then he was coughing, and when he pulled his hand from his mouth, crimson remained. And then he was even vomiting, and Vincent ran to his side, saying his name like he was dying—because, of course, he was. At least, on principle.

Vincent had made sure that the whole house was frantic, on fire, that they were calling the family doctor, using anything and everything they had to save his life.

And somewhere in the middle, he heard Elliot swear under his breath something about the Headhunter, and how one day he would kill him for what he had done to their family.

He didn’t remember much of that night, fever, and blood, and…

And after all that, after all he had put them through, after all his own wonderings Is this really it? Is this where I die? Will I never get to see Oz again? He…was fine.

Fine. Not even a scar, a cold, a leftover cough. When the morning came, and his pillows, sheets, and clothes were changed, all that was left was white, and he could breathe fine, and there was nothing to show he had almost died the night prior.

Everyone said it had to be a miracle, (Bernice said something about how the Abyss had saved him), that there was no other explanation, as no one (or almost no one) comes back from behind poisoned, and they should thank the heavens that the Nightrays hadn’t had to lose someone else.

At the time, he believed it was the worst thing he had ever had to experience.

Until he learned there's one other thing that works the same way: thoughts can be poisonous too.

They too, started small.

It started with Vincent whispering things in his ear, (things about Alice, and Chains, and killing) and “Why won’t you kill her, Gil?” asking him questions about things Gilbert denied, but he realized quickly had always been there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. And he supposed it must have started much earlier than this. His brother’s words brought them to the forefront, started a record of them playing on repeat. He didn’t know how, or where, or when, but somewhere in the middle, the thoughts decided to change directions, decided to stop saying No, of course I won’t, I can’t. I would never kill Alice, how could Vince even suggest something like that? to Maybe he’s not completely wrong, it’s her…She’s the one destroying my master’s body…This is her fault, and the answer’s so simple, if I just got rid of her… skirting around the single word, until he was admitting it full well: If I just killed her, if I just got the chance, then my Master would be safe, he’d be okay, all I need to do is kill her, and it started sounding less horrible bit by bit. And then somewhere, somehow, somewhen, that one word started filling up his mind, until it was all he could think, the record of questions replaced with some dark chant of kill, kill, kill my Master’s enemies, kill…

Then Sablier. Sablier, where his head, his hand, ached, and where he got so very close.

That knocking in his head, growing in intensity the longer he left the door unopened.

But they had already gotten in, and now they were knocking on the inner walls.

The chance came for him to fulfill the call of this dark melody, and he was inches from action, if he just—

Instead he…saved her.

Saved her. How? Why? Why, when his thoughts had bent to blood, how could his body chose to act in mercy?

It was in Sablier when he started to truly understand that this wasn’t the first time he had tasted this poison; somewhere in his cloudy past he had once thought If I just left Vincent behind, if he was gone…then I’d be fine…But when he’s gone, who will need me? The words reverberated back to him from some time he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, remember, and with them, this pain in his head. His breath caught in his throat, disgust rearing in his heart. How could he ever think something like that? Why? What would bring him to—?

But he didn’t dare think, Isn’t this the same? Am I not thinking the same thing right now?

And maybe this wasn’t the first time those words came mind about Alice either. Maybe, once upon a time, he had said them aloud. He could hear an echo of his own childish tone—

Not just Alice, someone had tried to hurt his Master, and he had to protect him. He had to. There was no other option, no other choice to make. If anyone tried to hurt his Master, he had to protect him, even if that meant killing those who stood opposed to him.

All the while, his head throbbing. Had it always been this way? Had it always like this? He was starting to forget what it felt like to be okay.

And it just had to be in Sablier when that man showed up. When Xai came, and brushed Oz aside again. Gilbert’s legs moved before his mind had time to command them.

Long ago, when he was still too young to have blood on his hands, that one word—kill—had become so strong he lifted a gun and pointed it at Oz’s father.

He would have done it too—pulled the trigger. He wanted to. His jaw set, tears in his eyes, questions he knew the answers to (but everyone else denied) burning on his tongue, hands shaking, but aim true… it would have been so simple; just one motion, a single act, pull the trigger, and all this pain would be over.

But, it wouldn’t be. Over, that is. Gilbert knew that Oz was not like himself. Oz did not have these thoughts spinning through him—Oz had not been poisoned by them. And if Oz returned to a world where his father was dead, killed by his most dedicated servant, in some twisted show of loyalty, he wouldn’t be proud, or grateful, or anything of the sort. He knew it wasn’t what Oz wanted, no matter how much he had been hurt by this man. And if Gilbert did this now, it would be like he was saying, with the voice of a bullet, Oz isn’t coming back. So he didn’t, not then. There were pathways out of the thoughts, out of the chanting. The poison subsided, went dormant in his blood.

But in Sablier, things were different. In Sablier there were memories, and they made his head pound to escape his own skull. In Sablier there were voices, and his left hand was aching and what was going on with Oz—

Was this what they meant by poisonous gas? Did Pandora, Break and Reim, know about the thoughts, the memories? About the poison in his mind?—

And in Sablier he tried to kill Alice, and in Sablier, maybe some other him, in some other time, wanted to leave his brother behind too, but couldn’t bring himself to do, (not because he cared, but because he needed to be needed, and he wouldn’t admit that he still did) and these memories, these memories, these memories—

If only he could cough them up too. If only he could turn them to a few drops of blood staining his gloves, rather than his entire past. But they stuck in his lungs, on his tongue, and they rotted there.

The word, the gun, were the only things left, in his hand, in his heart. The only thing left to do.

If only Xai could have been just a little bit kinder, just a tiny bit more forgiving. It wasn’t hard, was it, just to show one shred of human decency?

(Gilbert might just have changed the past for Oz, then. Might have erased the moment when Oz’s own father said he wished he had never been born, might have kept him from tossing him into the Abyss. Even now, if Raven told him he could, would he still—?)

How could this man stand there with a smile on his face, like he hadn’t ripped Oz apart all those years ago? Tossed his heart to the cobblestones, then, if that wasn’t enough, cast him into the Abyss itself? Like he didn’t care, and wouldn’t even try…

Gilbert would have done it. He no longer had anything with which to fend the thoughts off. They were enveloping his mind, and maybe there was no him left, just these sickening memories, a knocking that made his head throb, and the word kill.

Everything in him had already accomplished the task, every intention set.

And it had been Break—why did it have to be Break?—who stopped him.

If it had been Oz, things would have been different. If it had been Oz, things would have made sense. Gilbert would have listened to every word from the very beginning, and it would have been easy to stifle the thoughts, to come to the answer, to follow Oz out of this place, out of the dark…wouldn’t it?

Oz may have yelled, or kicked him in the shin, pulled on his hair, and called him an idiot, but he still would have made an effort to care, to understand, recognize what he was doing, and why. Oz would have stayed there, and talked him down from this place, slowly, made him put down the gun, second by second, drawing the poison from his veins in the same method it came.

But he didn’t get Oz. Oz was too shaken up himself. Oz was somewhere else, just as broken and hurting and Gilbert had to protect him.

(But how can I protect him if I’m not with him?)

Instead he got Break. And Break wasn’t kind like Oz. The Mad Hatter had severed the scene in two, he stuck his staff between Gilbert’s neck at the rest of the world, put black and barrier between him and the man he wanted to kill, ruining his chances of following the thoughts’ call through, in one fluid motion. And Break’s words were not compassionate like Oz’s surely would have been. For the most part, they were not cruel, but Break never seemed to make the effort to care.

Gilbert’s words hadn’t been any better, they grew more monstrous by the moment—(maybe that was the blood, the vomit on his tongue)—and that’s when they finally spilled out, “I have to kill him!”

Still—

(If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have seen how they made Break pause…)

“Gilbert-kun. That isn’t your will talking, is it?”

And it hurt so much. His head, his hand, he couldn’t even think with this pulsing, the blood in his throat—

“Who put that into your head?”

And he had to do it, he had to—

“Then you can kill me too!”

He had no choice, he had to follow the thoughts though to the end, he was their puppet—

Wait, what?

Did he really just put his gun to Break’s head?

Sure, Break could but insufferable at times, but was that enough to kill him?

“Let me ask you just one thing. Is the one you need, really Oz Vessalius?”

And then, of course, because it was Break, after saying one thing that hit him the hardest, he had to jab his staff into his gut to finish the job, punishing Gilbert for holding him at gunpoint, even for a second, even at Break's own command, saying he let him off easy.

Break had never intended to be kind. He never gave any thought to the impact of things like words, and “worthless emotion,” did he? He had even admitted this fact himself.

And Gilbert had turned his gun on him, maybe even thought for a second That’s right, you’re an enemy too, I have to kill you. Something dark in him knew blood needed to follow blood, something dark in him needing to fire on someone, because someone, anyone, had to pay for all this pain in his heart, in his head, and he couldn’t think straight with this ache, this poison…

But, of course, in a moment, the very notion became so silly. This was Break after all. Sure, he was annoying, rude, maybe even cruel, but killing him for it was a bit far. And wasn’t Break somehow—(he didn’t like to say it too much)—his friend?

Except, when he had tried to apologize, Break had shut him up by shoving Emily into his jaw.

The question remained in the back of Gilbert’s mind: What if he’s right? What if it isn’t Oz I need? But he pushed the question down as far as he could, didn’t want to think, to wonder for a second that maybe…

Was this another poison? These questions of Maybe it’s not Oz…Or was questioning the poison’s intentions, bit by bit, was severing it at the seams, quickly and thoroughly as possible, the antidote? Was the antidote realizing just how very silly the thought was, from the very beginning?

He found himself so far from his reason for doing this; Oz. He hadn’t for a second thought what Oz would think about his actions. That had been what had kept him from the trigger before. Not this time. Though it was the only thing that mattered, he hadn’t even thought about it. It had just been pain, and knocking, and that one recurrent note.

So maybe, just maybe, Break was right. Maybe it wasn’t Oz, maybe—

Or maybe not.

And he wasn’t ready to tell Oz any of that. Especially not when he didn’t have an answer himself yet.

But he did tell Oz the truth. The thoughts flared back up, even afterwards, and Oz had been so quick to realize they were ridiculous, (and, when Gilbert thought about it, wasn’t it weird that that Break had took them so seriously, when Oz had laughed?) laughed, and said “What’re you saying? You’d never be able to do that!”

“No!” Gilbert had to prove the poison was real, “I tried to kill her!”

“But you couldn’t, could you? See, now that’s the Gilbert I know!”

He said it like he knew him better than Gilbert knew himself. It was starting to seem like everyone knew him better than he did himself.

Maybe that’s how poison works. Maybe it made sense; the others could still breathe, after all.

Still, Oz’s words…and Break’s…

It was after they got back from Sablier, after they talked to Break when he had collapsed, after Oz had told him how silly it was, and after they got back from Rytas’ mansion, after the Headhunter showed up again, (the same Headhunter, surely that had tried to poison him before), Gilbert decided there was one thing left he should to.

He took a deep breath, and screwed up his resolve.

“Break?”

“Mm?” Gilbert had managed to find Break alone in the kitchen, making tea, and stealing candy from a place up high where Sharon had apparently tried to hide it. Break turned, leaning against the counter. “What is it, Gilbert-kun?”

“I…um…” Gilbert fumbled his words, realizing it was a lot harder to say it aloud, especially to him, “I wanted to say…” he looked at the ground.

“Looks like a kitty’s got Gil-Gil’s tongue.” Break took a sip of tea, looking smug.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists, biting back any insults that came to his lips. “About what happened in Sablier—”

Break looked up, realizing where Gilbert was going with this.

“Oh?” Break interrupted him, grinning, “Didn’t we already make it clear you were not to apologize?” he inclined his head towards Emily.

Why did he always have to make things harder? Gilbert was just trying to show him a little kindness, and he always had to spit it back in his face.

“Well, actually I, uh, didn’t come to apologize,” he cleared his throat, “I am sorry though, for,” he felt his cheeks growing hot, “pointing my gun at you. But, Um, well—”

Break laughed, picking up his tea, slipping a few candies into his pocket, walking by, “Spoiled brats like you have the luxury of—”

“Thank you.” Gilbert said, more loudly than intended.

Break paused, shock flitting into his eye. He turned back to him, brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For what you said…in Sablier. I—”

“Oh,” Break breathed again. “Well, you seemed like you were in need of a good ass-kicking,” he brushed Gilbert’s heartfelt words off.

“But you—”

Break ruffled Gilbert’s hair in response, walking away, chuckling.

Like hell I’ll ever say something nice to him again. Gilbert glared after him.

But as the older man rounded the corner, Gilbert didn’t realize there was something genuine in that laugh.

Because Break knew what it was like. He too had once tasted this poison. He knew what it was like to have word kill infect your thoughts. And worse, he knew what it was like to have blood fill your past, to the point where you had to change your name for it to stop following you, for it to stop calling to you. And in that moment, he was the only one who could have understood him, and stopped him.

Maybe if Gilbert was listening more closely, he would have realized there was something real beneath his laugh. But what Break wouldn’t let him know was his exact thought at the time, which was very different from Gilbert’s own:

At least one of us is starting to see clearly.

*****

Notes:

I feel like "poisonous thoughts" are a bit of a motif in PH, and Gilbert, especially at this point in the series, is a very good example of them. Having dealt with those sorts of thoughts before, myself, I've found that Break's line "That isn't your will talking, is it? Who put that into your head?!" is actually really comforting, and I enjoyed writing a fic that i could mention it in, and I hope i did it justice. There's so much going on at any given point in the manga, it can be hard to encapsulate the characters feelings! In all honesty I feel like, in that particular moment, Break really was the only one who would truly be able to help him, (as mentioned in the fic). I love how well Mochizuki knows her characters! Also, the time when Gil was poisoned is never really expanded upon, so it was kind of fun to contemplate what that would have been like.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic to my new writing blog!

[i-prefer-the-term-antihero]

Pandora Hearts Fic for Inktober Prompt 1: Poisonous

Fic Title: As the Fall Comes

Synopsis: An in-depth look into Gilbert's internal monologue in Vol 10, Retrace XL: Blindness, using the theme of Inktober 2018 Prompt 1: Poisonous.

Notes: I wanted to write some more PH fics following the Inktober 2018 prompts but i never got around to it. I have just learned that links no longer show up in searches on tumblr so I’m reposting all my fics to make sure they show up! You can still read this on Ao3, and i would love it if you left a comment there! It is under the same title, and my username there is I_prefer_the_term_antihero

Spoilers for Vol 10 ahead!

It started small. The time when Gilbert was poisoned.

When he first stood up from the banquet table, the room spun, a little too fast, a little too far. And when almost everyone present turned to him with worried faces (after everything that had happened, why wouldn’t they?) he assured them he was fine, that maybe he had had a more to drink than he thought, or perhaps the gravity of all that had happened was catching up to him.

Next his head. Small, sharp pains. Like someone was knocking to get in, like a doctor was sticking a needle in different places to see where it would hurt most. Then it was everywhere that hurt most, and the knocking was on every door and window to his mind. He could do nothing but hold his head in his hands, curse, and pray whoever it was couldn’t get in, and would stop trying.

Then he was coughing, and when he pulled his hand from his mouth, crimson remained. And then he was even vomiting, and Vincent ran to his side, saying his name like he was dying—because, of course, he was. At least, on principle.

Vincent had made sure that the whole house was frantic, on fire, that they were calling the family doctor, using anything and everything they had to save his life.

And somewhere in the middle, he heard Elliot swear under his breath something about the Headhunter, and how one day he would kill him for what he had done to their family.

He didn’t remember much of that night, fever, and blood, and…

And after all that, after all he had put them through, after all his own wonderings Is this really it? Is this where I die? Will I never get to see Oz again? He…was fine.

Fine. Not even a scar, a cold, a leftover cough. When the morning came, and his pillows, sheets, and clothes were changed, all that was left was white, and he could breathe fine, and there was nothing to show he had almost died the night prior.

Everyone said it had to be a miracle, (Bernice said something about how the Abyss had saved him), that there was no other explanation, as no one (or almost no one) comes back from behind poisoned, and they should thank the heavens that the Nightrays hadn’t had to lose someone else.

At the time, he believed it was the worst thing he had ever had to experience.

Until he learned there's one other thing that works the same way: thoughts can be poisonous too.

They too, started small.

It started with Vincent whispering things in his ear, (things about Alice, and Chains, and killing) and “Why won’t you kill her, Gil?” asking him questions about things Gilbert denied, but he realized quickly had always been there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. And he supposed it must have started much earlier than this. His brother’s words brought them to the forefront, started a record of them playing on repeat. He didn’t know how, or where, or when, but somewhere in the middle, the thoughts decided to change directions, decided to stop saying No, of course I won’t, I can’t. I would never kill Alice, how could Vince even suggest something like that? to Maybe he’s not completely wrong, it’s her…She’s the one destroying my master’s body…This is her fault, and the answer’s so simple, if I just got rid of her… skirting around the single word, until he was admitting it full well: If I just killed her, if I just got the chance, then my Master would be safe, he’d be okay, all I need to do is kill her, and it started sounding less horrible bit by bit. And then somewhere, somehow, somewhen, that one word started filling up his mind, until it was all he could think, the record of questions replaced with some dark chant of kill, kill, kill my Master’s enemies, kill…

Then Sablier. Sablier, where his head, his hand, ached, and where he got so very close.

That knocking in his head, growing in intensity the longer he left the door unopened.

But they had already gotten in, and now they were knocking on the inner walls.

The chance came for him to fulfill the call of this dark melody, and he was inches from action, if he just—

Instead he…saved her.

Saved her. How? Why? Why, when his thoughts had bent to blood, how could his body chose to act in mercy?

It was in Sablier when he started to truly understand that this wasn’t the first time he had tasted this poison; somewhere in his cloudy past he had once thought If I just left Vincent behind, if he was gone…then I’d be fine…But when he’s gone, who will need me? The words reverberated back to him from some time he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, remember, and with them, this pain in his head. His breath caught in his throat, disgust rearing in his heart. How could he ever think something like that? Why? What would bring him to—?

But he didn’t dare think, Isn’t this the same? Am I not thinking the same thing right now?

And maybe this wasn’t the first time those words came mind about Alice either. Maybe, once upon a time, he had said them aloud. He could hear an echo of his own childish tone—

Not just Alice, someone had tried to hurt his Master, and he had to protect him. He had to. There was no other option, no other choice to make. If anyone tried to hurt his Master, he had to protect him, even if that meant killing those who stood opposed to him.

All the while, his head throbbing. Had it always been this way? Had it always like this? He was starting to forget what it felt like to be okay.

And it just had to be in Sablier when that man showed up. When Xai came, and brushed Oz aside again. Gilbert’s legs moved before his mind had time to command them.

Long ago, when he was still too young to have blood on his hands, that one word—kill—had become so strong he lifted a gun and pointed it at Oz’s father.

He would have done it too—pulled the trigger. He wanted to. His jaw set, tears in his eyes, questions he knew the answers to (but everyone else denied) burning on his tongue, hands shaking, but aim true… it would have been so simple; just one motion, a single act, pull the trigger, and all this pain would be over.

But, it wouldn’t be. Over, that is. Gilbert knew that Oz was not like himself. Oz did not have these thoughts spinning through him—Oz had not been poisoned by them. And if Oz returned to a world where his father was dead, killed by his most dedicated servant, in some twisted show of loyalty, he wouldn’t be proud, or grateful, or anything of the sort. He knew it wasn’t what Oz wanted, no matter how much he had been hurt by this man. And if Gilbert did this now, it would be like he was saying, with the voice of a bullet, Oz isn’t coming back. So he didn’t, not then. There were pathways out of the thoughts, out of the chanting. The poison subsided, went dormant in his blood.

But in Sablier, things were different. In Sablier there were memories, and they made his head pound to escape his own skull. In Sablier there were voices, and his left hand was aching and what was going on with Oz—

Was this what they meant by poisonous gas? Did Pandora, Break and Reim, know about the thoughts, the memories? About the poison in his mind?—

And in Sablier he tried to kill Alice, and in Sablier, maybe some other him, in some other time, wanted to leave his brother behind too, but couldn’t bring himself to do, (not because he cared, but because he needed to be needed, and he wouldn’t admit that he still did) and these memories, these memories, these memories—

If only he could cough them up too. If only he could turn them to a few drops of blood staining his gloves, rather than his entire past. But they stuck in his lungs, on his tongue, and they rotted there.

The word, the gun, were the only things left, in his hand, in his heart. The only thing left to do.

If only Xai could have been just a little bit kinder, just a tiny bit more forgiving. It wasn’t hard, was it, just to show one shred of human decency?

(Gilbert might just have changed the past for Oz, then. Might have erased the moment when Oz’s own father said he wished he had never been born, might have kept him from tossing him into the Abyss. Even now, if Raven told him he could, would he still—?)

How could this man stand there with a smile on his face, like he hadn’t ripped Oz apart all those years ago? Tossed his heart to the cobblestones, then, if that wasn’t enough, cast him into the Abyss itself? Like he didn’t care, and wouldn’t even try…

Gilbert would have done it. He no longer had anything with which to fend the thoughts off. They were enveloping his mind, and maybe there was no him left, just these sickening memories, a knocking that made his head throb, and the word kill.

Everything in him had already accomplished the task, every intention set.

And it had been Break—why did it have to be Break?—who stopped him.

If it had been Oz, things would have been different. If it had been Oz, things would have made sense. Gilbert would have listened to every word from the very beginning, and it would have been easy to stifle the thoughts, to come to the answer, to follow Oz out of this place, out of the dark…wouldn’t it?

Oz may have yelled, or kicked him in the shin, pulled on his hair, and called him an idiot, but he still would have made an effort to care, to understand, recognize what he was doing, and why. Oz would have stayed there, and talked him down from this place, slowly, made him put down the gun, second by second, drawing the poison from his veins in the same method it came.

But he didn’t get Oz. Oz was too shaken up himself. Oz was somewhere else, just as broken and hurting and Gilbert had to protect him.

(But how can I protect him if I’m not with him?)

Instead he got Break. And Break wasn’t kind like Oz. The Mad Hatter had severed the scene in two, he stuck his staff between Gilbert’s neck at the rest of the world, put black and barrier between him and the man he wanted to kill, ruining his chances of following the thoughts’ call through, in one fluid motion. And Break’s words were not compassionate like Oz’s surely would have been. For the most part, they were not cruel, but Break never seemed to make the effort to care.

Gilbert’s words hadn’t been any better, they grew more monstrous by the moment—(maybe that was the blood, the vomit on his tongue)—and that’s when they finally spilled out, “I have to kill him!”

Still—

(If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have seen how they made Break pause…)

“Gilbert-kun. That isn’t your will talking, is it?”

And it hurt so much. His head, his hand, he couldn’t even think with this pulsing, the blood in his throat—

“Who put that into your head?”

And he had to do it, he had to—

“Then you can kill me too!”

He had no choice, he had to follow the thoughts though to the end, he was their puppet—

Wait, what?

Did he really just put his gun to Break’s head?

Sure, Break could but insufferable at times, but was that enough to kill him?

“Let me ask you just one thing. Is the one you need, really Oz Vessalius?”

And then, of course, because it was Break, after saying one thing that hit him the hardest, he had to jab his staff into his gut to finish the job, punishing Gilbert for holding him at gunpoint, even for a second, even at Break's own command, saying he let him off easy.

Break had never intended to be kind. He never gave any thought to the impact of things like words, and “worthless emotion,” did he? He had even admitted this fact himself.

And Gilbert had turned his gun on him, maybe even thought for a second That’s right, you’re an enemy too, I have to kill you. Something dark in him knew blood needed to follow blood, something dark in him needing to fire on someone, because someone, anyone, had to pay for all this pain in his heart, in his head, and he couldn’t think straight with this ache, this poison…

But, of course, in a moment, the very notion became so silly. This was Break after all. Sure, he was annoying, rude, maybe even cruel, but killing him for it was a bit far. And wasn’t Break somehow—(he didn’t like to say it too much)—his friend?

Except, when he had tried to apologize, Break had shut him up by shoving Emily into his jaw.

The question remained in the back of Gilbert’s mind: What if he’s right? What if it isn’t Oz I need? But he pushed the question down as far as he could, didn’t want to think, to wonder for a second that maybe…

Was this another poison? These questions of Maybe it’s not Oz…Or was questioning the poison’s intentions, bit by bit, was severing it at the seams, quickly and thoroughly as possible, the antidote? Was the antidote realizing just how very silly the thought was, from the very beginning?

He found himself so far from his reason for doing this; Oz. He hadn’t for a second thought what Oz would think about his actions. That had been what had kept him from the trigger before. Not this time. Though it was the only thing that mattered, he hadn’t even thought about it. It had just been pain, and knocking, and that one recurrent note.

So maybe, just maybe, Break was right. Maybe it wasn’t Oz, maybe—

Or maybe not.

And he wasn’t ready to tell Oz any of that. Especially not when he didn’t have an answer himself yet.

But he did tell Oz the truth. The thoughts flared back up, even afterwards, and Oz had been so quick to realize they were ridiculous, (and, when Gilbert thought about it, wasn’t it weird that that Break had took them so seriously, when Oz had laughed?) laughed, and said “What’re you saying? You’d never be able to do that!”

“No!” Gilbert had to prove the poison was real, “I tried to kill her!”

“But you couldn’t, could you? See, now that’s the Gilbert I know!”

He said it like he knew him better than Gilbert knew himself. It was starting to seem like everyone knew him better than he did himself.

Maybe that’s how poison works. Maybe it made sense; the others could still breathe, after all.

Still, Oz’s words…and Break’s…

It was after they got back from Sablier, after they talked to Break when he had collapsed, after Oz had told him how silly it was, and after they got back from Rytas’ mansion, after the Headhunter showed up again, (the same Headhunter, surely that had tried to poison him before), Gilbert decided there was one thing left he should to.

He took a deep breath, and screwed up his resolve.

“Break?”

“Mm?” Gilbert had managed to find Break alone in the kitchen, making tea, and stealing candy from a place up high where Sharon had apparently tried to hide it. Break turned, leaning against the counter. “What is it, Gilbert-kun?”

“I…um…” Gilbert fumbled his words, realizing it was a lot harder to say it aloud, especially to him, “I wanted to say…” he looked at the ground.

“Looks like a kitty’s got Gil-Gil’s tongue.” Break took a sip of tea, looking smug.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists, biting back any insults that came to his lips. “About what happened in Sablier—”

Break looked up, realizing where Gilbert was going with this.

“Oh?” Break interrupted him, grinning, “Didn’t we already make it clear you were not to apologize?” he inclined his head towards Emily.

Why did he always have to make things harder? Gilbert was just trying to show him a little kindness, and he always had to spit it back in his face.

“Well, actually I, uh, didn’t come to apologize,” he cleared his throat, “I am sorry though, for,” he felt his cheeks growing hot, “pointing my gun at you. But, Um, well—”

Break laughed, picking up his tea, slipping a few candies into his pocket, walking by, “Spoiled brats like you have the luxury of—”

“Thank you.” Gilbert said, more loudly than intended.

Break paused, shock flitting into his eye. He turned back to him, brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For what you said…in Sablier. I—”

“Oh,” Break breathed again. “Well, you seemed like you were in need of a good ass-kicking,” he brushed Gilbert’s heartfelt words off.

“But you—”

Break ruffled Gilbert’s hair in response, walking away, chuckling.

Like hell I’ll ever say something nice to him again. Gilbert glared after him.

But as the older man rounded the corner, Gilbert didn’t realize there was something genuine in that laugh.

Because Break knew what it was like. He too had once tasted this poison. He knew what it was like to have word kill infect your thoughts. And worse, he knew what it was like to have blood fill your past, to the point where you had to change your name for it to stop following you, for it to stop calling to you. And in that moment, he was the only one who could have understood him, and stopped him.

Maybe if Gilbert was listening more closely, he would have realized there was something real beneath his laugh. But what Break wouldn’t let him know was his exact thought at the time, which was very different from Gilbert’s own:

At least one of us is starting to see clearly.

[cameracrate]

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[fivekrystalpetals]

My thoughts so far (mainly the arc from Retrace XXXVI to Retrace XLII—trio investigates Sablier arc?)

1] Glen Baskerville: so, we get a face reveal for the ‘evil mastermind’ behind the Tragedy of Sablier. But before we talk about the meeting between Glen and Oz, I want to talk about Lottie’s bits of memories from the Tragedy.

—out of all the events shown to us through Cheshire’s dimensions and even at Sablier itself, I can only trust these bits of Lottie’s memories (surprise!)—why? Because, for one, she has no reason to lie about her treasured master; and two, she is still alive. Alice from 100 years ago is long dead and the chain Alice has no memories of her past. She is just like us, readers, clueless of the actual events. And whatever memories we do see, I can’t trust them, being all shaky, distorted and twisted and traumatized.

Anyway, I felt something was off about the three panels even during my first read but I couldn’t place what exactly. I simply assumed it was because Glen’s face was shrouded in darkness and mystery, looking all cruel and villainous.

But I think I know what rubbed me wrong about the panels. It’s the urgency in his behavior. Why is he so agitated here? If the plan was made to sink Sablier into the Abyss to appease(?) the Will, then he should sit back and enjoy the game, no? Like, say, Father from FMA, who had a similar masterplan and motive to sink Amestris and make a Philosopher’s Stone out of all the souls. Not to mention, why did he give the order to Lottie and Co. to kill all the people? They might have been sacrificed to the Will, dead or alive, right?

Here we get the answer from Glen himself—

The Will of the Abyss didn’t exist in the beginning. The Abyss itself was probably some sort of an energy source before it was granted a vessel. I am not yet sure of the exact details but what I strongly believe is that the White-Haired Alice is in reality a human and the actual twin sister of our Alice who was kept trapped inside Rapunzel's castle. But that raises a ton of other questions like—who placed her inside the Abyss? If it were the Baskervilles, did they believe she won’t have a ‘will’ of her own? Did they really think she would simply be a robot for them to use? And again, who is ‘Alice’? And how is she special to make them think she could act as a vessel for the Abyss?

Okay, well, that aside, Glen’s logic here actually makes sense to me? (or maybe I just listen better to dark-haired emo guys ahem so don’t take this seriously lol I am not trying to condone his actions or anything just trying to understand both sides of the argument) It’s similar to what Break said in Retrace IX. The power of the Abyss is malfunctioning, has pervaded the human world, currently disrupting it—the only way to set it right is by obtaining the Intention of the Abyss. Well, how Oz calculates into his equation or why he is called a Key is not yet clear but this—

—seems important. It appears before Oz existed, only the Baskervilles, the servants of the Abyss, could access it but after Oz’s ‘birth’, everyone can do so.

Soooo, taking away all that ominous shading from around Glen, that’s what he too is saying, right? I am almost starting to believe that Glen was actually trying to set right the accident—not planning for it—because that way I get the answer to another one of my questions: why did he give the order to kill all the people in Sablier? Why could the people not have been sacrificed alive to the Intention, if sacrifice of so many people was to be the end outcome anyway?

Honestly, from his agitation and his overall urgency and his apparent hurry to even pause to answer his subordinates’ very valid question, it felt less like a planned affair and more like a last-minute rush hour, more like he was running out of time. Why was he running out of time if this Tragedy was planned in advance?

On the other hand, if–if he didn’t know this Tragedy was gonna take place, and if the Intention suddenly started to pull down the capital, his reaction would make sense. I think, so I ask, was he trying to save the people of Sablier from a Fate worse than Death, as they say? Anything that gets dragged into the Abyss gets converted into Chains or something worse (see: Vincent shot down Phillipe’s dad before he got dragged into the Abyss?), I think Glen gave the urgent yet baffling order to kill the people so that they ‘die’ before they get dragged into the Abyss.

[Well, I think I am wrong anyway; somehow none of my guesses are working for this story lol. Two faults I can easily pick on in my theory: 1] Lottie and co. were alive and well in spite of being dragged into the Abyss and 2] the people could have been evacuated from Sablier, no? or perhaps it was too late for even that?]

Next, this—

Glen is not a memory, is he? He is actually talking to Oz. At first, he wrongly assumed that Oz was Jack and addressed him so; but then he realized his mistake.

And then, comes the familiar line—the Baskervilles said this, his dad said this and now, Glen too—

Your sin is your very existence.

—let me tell you I didn’t take this line seriously until now. Eh, it’s some line that is being repeated to make a Tragic Hero with a Tragic Backstory out of Oz—is what I thought. But now, a guy who has no connection to Oz whatsoever repeats the same line, out of nowhere, without any outside influence or knowledge, merely by looking ‘inside’ the boy; and I am suddenly being forced to wonder what it means (perhaps in a literal sense)

Oz should not have existed.

Alternatively, Oz shouldn’t have been born.

Xai Vessalius said the same thing too. Pretty sure this has something to do with Oz being the Key to access the Abyss, but what exactly he can do is unclear to me.

(Oh, an additional complaint (of sorts?): uh, I didn’t like Jack’s attitude toward Lottie and co., they were merely asking for an answer from him (they were even quite casually polite unlike their usual attitude towards the others); while the answer he gives them is: 1) he is trying to protect his friend’s reputation (before his own subordinates?? Please. The Baskervilles seem too loyal to their master. Even if the truth is too hard and too cruel to digest, they would have accepted it as one of their master’s orders anyway.) and 2) that Lottie won’t stand a chance before the B-Rabbit’s power… which okay? Doesn’t answer their question though? Honestly, feels like he is trying to scare them away from the truth more than anything else. And if my theory is right, and Glen was actually trying to save the people, then why would he (or the Baskervilles) want to bring about another Tragedy of Sablier? *shrugs in idek anything at this point*)

Moving on,

2] Vincent, Gil and the Will of the Abyss: (or, as I believe the girl talking so rudely to Gil and Vincent. I won’t have it that it’s our sweet Alice being the one mocking him about his eyes but if it is so, then well…)

Anyway, she is the one that tells Vincent about Glen and five chains that exist within his body: Jabberwock (the one Glen had in the scene with Oz), Raven (Gil’s), Dodo, Owl, Griffon (Xai’s chain) (all creatures from Alice in Wonderland). Also, that Glen is an undead spirit that keeps changing bodies (like atla!avatar), that he rules over the Baskervilles, that Gil would be the next Baskerville head and so unless Vincent stops the ceremony to transfer Raven into Gil’s body, Gil will die. Why would Gil die if he is meant to be the next heir; it makes no sense. Pretty sure the Will was simply lying to make Vincent open the Door.

The solution—open the Gates of the Abyss (real reason: so the Abyss could creep into the human world, huh?) which Vincent believed and did anyway… kickstarting the Tragedy of Sablier. (So, that’s all Vincent remembers? I hoped we could learn more from him; but the next thing he was seeing after opening the Gate was the massacre in Sablier.)

So, in the present, Vincent desires the Will of the Abyss so he can reverse time and make it so that the Tragedy never happened in the first place. yk, this is one rare situation where I actually wish Time could be reversed and the past could be restored because Vincent was only a little child at the time. He just desperately wanted to protect his brother (and prove that he is not a curse or burden to his brother) but the adults around him used this vulnerability to manipulate him into committing acts beyond his full comprehension. Little knowledge is a dangerous thing indeed. Even then, and taking Break’s case as an example, even if he manages to reverse the Tragedy, something even bigger and more tragic must happen.

Also, about Raven: apparently, transferring this chain to Gil was the first step to make Gil the next heir to the Baskervilles. Vincent was against this 100 years ago yet he willingly shows Raven to Gil in the present (ten years ago i.e.). Why? Is this some part of his plan? To try and make Gil remember his past? Or, so they find an irreplaceable position in the Nightray household? Or, considering his calculations to change the past, this contract won’t matter anyway—is what he thinks?

I am worried about Gil, too. What is the ‘kill him, kill him,’ saying going on inside his head? Break correctly points out that those thoughts aren’t his own. I can’t explain why but I feel like it’s Raven that’s feeding him these thoughts. Or, it could also be the B-Rabbit chain that is under his control or something. Uhhh, idk what’s going on with Gil, nothing good obviously.

About Gil, Jack and Glen: I thought Gil was Jack’s servant in the past, that’s why he feels so bonded to Oz but turns out this is not so. Although strange why—

Even in Cheshire’s domain, Gil is the one that ran into Jack first. I wonder…

Another thing: Gil obviously doesn’t remember anything from his past, but did he know Glen? There must have been some communication between Glen and Gil 100 years ago if he was chosen to be the next heir and all. Was Glen Gil's master, if not Jack?

Either way, it’s sad—the two brothers’ relationship. In spite of all their hardships, they clearly cared for each other even if the thought seemed to have entered Gil’s mind several times to just up and leave Vincent behind (which he thankfully didn’t. He is his only relative, after all.) Vincent too cares a lot for Gil, if not for anyone else. And was ready to listen to the words of some strange lady in strange robes (kids, never accept candy advice from strangers, okay?) to help his big bro.

3] Miranda Burma:

Ah, this lady.

And this lady:

are the same, right?

This bitch lady was the one manipulating the hell out of a little child. She has played an important role in the Tragedy by getting to open the Gate to the Abyss. Perhaps, as a member of one of the noble houses, she was granted entry to the Baskerville Mansion, and she decided to misuse this trust to bite the hand of her own host.

Anyway, her existence in the story makes me all the more certain that the Tragedy came onto the Baskervilles as suddenly as Vincent opening the Gate to the Abyss. And that the four Dukedoms each have something or the other to do with this Tragedy. Perhaps, they were jealous of the power the Baskervilles held, that they alone could act as the Servants of the Abyss and wanted the Doors to the Abyss for themselves?

Oooh, could it be that Jack Vessalius too is part of the plot? What a twist it would make yum! Did he betray his best friend’s trust in him to plot with the other Dukedoms against him? After the Baskervilles were defeated, he must have been declared the ‘Hero’ by the other Dukedoms for all his help, eh? Perhaps, there is some truth to Lottie’s accusation, after all? Jack didn’t defend himself then—simply scared her off with the B-Rabbit’s power.

Also, very interesting that four of the five chains that originally belonged to Glen were shared between the Dukedoms like spoils of the war.

This scene is a red herring, yes? Glen’s Evil Smirk TM is supposed to be taken as—ah, obviously he is in cahoots with her and the Plan, but that seems too obvious to me; I rather feel like she was someone he trusted a lot and was simply smiling in acknowledgement, not knowing of the secret betrayal going on around him. I have read too many detective novels to fall for something this obvious hahaha.

side note: she is totally a manipulative bitch but her hair is beautiful lol

4] Xai Vessalius: oh yeah, and what about the Vessalius' household head? The one who hates his ‘son’ so much that he is ready to personally cast him as far as possible into the Abyss to maintain some distance lol. The Burma Dukedom was clearly ‘in’ the Tragedy, but seeing that Xai Vessalius and Duke Nightray are working together (at least in some capacity, for the Duke vouched for Xai’s alibi while the latter was def in the Coming-of-age ceremony) makes me wonder (once again)—who is on whose side? Who is telling the truth? What are they hiding? The truth behind the Tragedy of Sablier?

Plus, Rufus Barma reads out (from a book that no one but he can read which in itself is suspicious lol) that Jack sacrificed his body to stop Glen (the spirit) from resurrection but… that might also be because the four Dukedoms don’t want Glen to awaken (otherwise the truth might come out).

Not to mention, there is this and idk what to make of it—

The more I continue with this story, the more it feels like Oz came into existence from very dubious sources just like the Intention of the Abyss.

And what about sweet Uncle Oscar? Is he as good-natured and jovial as he appears? In spite of Gil repeatedly telling him that Xai was the mastermind of the Incident at the Coming-of-Age ceremony, he simply brushes his statement off. Are both brothers (and Duke Nightray) in this together?

But Xai also seems to be acting with the Baskervilles. Maybe, in his own faceless (lol why is his face not revealed already?) methods, he too is simply trying to uncover the truth from 100 years ago and really, nobody knows anything?

5] Alice and Jack (and Lacie): Well, I didn’t learn anything new about these two except for that the eerie tune we’ve been hearing right from the first chapter and the grave belongs to ‘Lacie’. She was someone very beloved to Glen and had to be made into a sacrifice for the Abyss. (Well, that’s a lot of things to unpack but for now I am not gonna make wild assumptions bc i am gonna be wrong anyway.)

only thing: if my theory that “the Tragedy of Sablier was orchestrated by the four dukedoms to get hands on the Doors to the Abyss and get rid of the Baskervilles who were caught right in the middle of a crossfire when Vincent opened the Gate” is wrong, then the other theory could be something like: Glen sacrificed the people of Sablier to the Abyss as a cost to get back Lacie or something. (yk, the trope of the villain ready to throw away the world for the sake of one ‘beloved’ person)

6] Human Experimentation: arrgghhh I was right about this and now I am sad I was right, bc Phillipe is gonna be used for these experiments, right? The so-called facility to take in kids whose parents were illegal contractors seems above board and done in a good cause and all (or so our main trio and Leo-Eliot believe; Leo is esp. good with the kids) so the author can hit them (and me) hard when they find out that the kids have been used in experimentation and never gonna return. ‘Endless supply of human guinea pigs’ are you kidding me?!! I already had a hunch that the organization of Pandora was shady af and now I have proof.

7] Eliot Nightray: I don’t know what to make of this boy yet; but I am warming up to him anw because he is such a tsundere lmao. He clearly wants to react positively whenever Oz loudly offers to be friends, instead he is having this ‘stoned’ expression on his face ///>^<///

(lol he is so funny; He is literally the anime single-canine-in-mouth-when-mad catboy in this whole dark affair lmao)

or has a constant nerve popping on his face somewhere lol

Another curious thing: he claims he wrote the song Lacie (the same song Glen wrote) so...... what does it mean? Is he destined to be the next host for Glen? Does he share his memories? And he even has the nightmare of burning buildings and people dying (Tragedy of Sablier, right?) Eliot as the next Glen is something I’d definitely want to see. He’d look so cool with all those layers of robes.

okay he looks really handsome here; had I read PH 10 years ago, I might have crushed on him so hard hehehe

8] Baskerville clan: now that Zwei and the one who cast Oz into the Abyss, Xai are both revealed to be /not/ Baskervilles, I believe only Lottie, Fang and the other guy are the only remaining Baskervilles. Oh, and the new young girl who appeared from the Gate still in possession of the Baskervilles–Lily.

I am actually warming up to this little ragtag group of mass murderers. They might be villains to this story (or not from their pov) but they are still family—Lottie being the older sister,

Fang gives off Tired DILF of FourTM energy (how did I not notice him before? I am in love with the way he talks &lt;;3),

Lily is the little sister.

Lottie came across as super weird in the beginning but I feel like that’s all just a cover to hide her hurt feelings at her own helplessness and their inability to find their master’s body and give him peace.

The scene where she is consoling Lily and recounting her own experiences:

She looks so sad here :((

And, just like that, I am down for the villains once again lol

9] Oz and Alice: lol I am not even trying to understand what’s going on with Oz anymore. That he is able to use B-Rabbit's power on his own is one thing, but why is he wielding the scythe as well all of a sudden? Does the power of the B-Rabbit keep transferring to Oz’s body the more he uses it? What will happen to Alice then? Will her soul disappear? Because as I understand, B-Rabbit merely assumes the form of Alice bc it is harder to maintain the whole form,, but Alice was already dead 100 years ago. So, what is in the B-Rabbit chain must be more or less a small fragment of her soul. If the B-Rabbit finds a stronger host, is it automatically transferring to it? Maybe then, Alice can finally rest in peace ;-;? I just hope she finds the whole truth of her life before she passes for good this time. This girl is becoming lonelier and more lost as the story proceeds. And even her chipper and boisterous attitude is more forced these recent chapters unlike the first few chapters. Oh, I can’t even remember the last time she was hungry for meat TT~TT

To end this long essay on a funny note, have a panel of Alice ‘kissing’ Oz in the end—I am laughing at the shape of Oz’s cheek at the end of the ‘kiss’

[spandexcostume]

7 Spiderman Costumes for your Kids

Are you wanting for a spider-man costume for your youngsters? you may select from a number of costumes from the spiderman movies, which begin from the sam raimi tilogy as much as the superb spider-man. This is a 2-piece Spider-man costume, with out footwear. your children will like to emulate the climber's evolutions with this costume, which additionally reproduces the spider-man muscle groups. Spider-man pajamas usually are not precisely a halloween costume, however they are going to nonetheless permit your youngsters to emulate your favourite pleasant weave. 100% CottonAuthentic and unique Disney Store product with dependable high quality and sturdinessScreen artwork impressed by Spidey's uniform in The Amazing Spider-Man 2Coordinating elastic-waist pajama pantsRibbed cuffs100% cotton The Black Spiderman costume with lenses that faithfully reproduce the spider man masks will give a novel contact to your youngsters's halloween. Size chart: Kid S: Height:100-115cm (3'4''-4'1'') Bust:60cm (5') Waist:48cm (4') Hip:58cm ( 4'10'' ) Kid M: Height: 115-125 cm (3'9''-4'1'') Bust: 60 cm (5') Waist: 48 cm (4') Hip: 58 cm ( 4'10'' ) Kid L: Height:125-135 cm (4'1''-4'5'') Bust: 65 cm ( 2'2'' ) Waist: 53 cm (1'9'') Hip: 64 cm (2'1'') Kid XL: Height: 135-145 cm (4'5''-4'9'') Bust: 70 cm ( 2'4'' ) Waist: 58 cm ( 1'11'' ) Hip: 68 cm ( 2'3'' ) Adult S:Height:145-160cm(4'9''-5'3'')Bust:75cm(2'5'')Waist:65cm(2'1'')Hip:75cm(2'5'' ) Will the Venom Costume for your youngsters be terrifying sufficient? Halloween won't ever be the identical with this terrifying symbiote. ☞ Please select the garments that swimsuit you in line with the dimensions desk described beneath. If there isn't a dimension that fits you, you may inform us, let's tailor it for you.☞ High definition clothes sample and simulated full delicate muscle block.☞ Soft muscle chest definition jumpsuit has connected boot tops and arm cowl.☞ Lightweight and breathable materials for a extra comfy match.☞ Tips: If our costume bundle elements are lacking,please contact us. Our after-sale service crew will get you sorted inside 24 hours. Do you wish to appear to be Spiderman even with a sweatshirt? You can retrace the adventures of the climber in all its nuances with this sweatshirt that faithfully reproduces the spider man costume. 60% Cotton/40% PolyesterFull-zip hoodie jacket (from waist to neck)Hood has Spidey eyes on the edgesMachine washableBoy's hoodie jacket is full-zip with 2 entrance pockets. Hood has Spiderman eyes on the edges. In pink. 60/40 cotton-poly mix. Machine washable. Imported. Do you wish to change in a second from spiderman and venom? with this reversible costume your youngsters will have the ability to tackle the position of the climber and his arch enemy in a flash. Polyester4" excessive11" vastRubie's Marvel Ultimate Spider-Man 2-in-1 Reversible Spider-Man / Venom Muscle Chest Costume, Child Small - Small One ColorIncludes reversible black to traditional fiber crammed Spider-Man with reversible cloth masksSpider-Man costumes and equipment from Rubies are formally licensed by Marvel Universe This costume features a reversible black to traditional fiber crammed costume, and a reversible cloth masks. Does not embrace t-shirt, or footwear. This is an formally licensed Spider-Man costume. Color: As Shown PolyesterHand WashOfficially licensed costume, look for trademark on packaging to assist guarantee you have obtained genuine security examined merchandisePrinted costume jumpsuit with connected shoe-covers and padded muscle chest, masksCostumes are sized otherwise than attire, use the Rubie's Child Size Chart, don't select primarily based on kid's age or clothes dimension Old spidey swimsuit simply not doing it anymore for your youngster? With this new and improved Spider-Man Homecoming - Spider-Man Deluxe Muscle Chest Children's Costume your youngster can reap all the advantages from Tony Stark’s design. The muscle swimsuit will defend your youngster from any hazard and provides them the arrogance to avoid wasting town and get residence in time to check for that massive examination! Includes: Padded Jumpsuit with Attached Bootcovers, Mask. Read the full article

[preciousmetals0]

Contrarian Investors: Is Suncor Energy (TSX:SU) Stock a Top Market Crash Buy Today?

Contrarian Investors: Is Suncor Energy (TSX:SU) Stock a Top Market Crash Buy Today?:

The market crash of 2020 has Canadian investors wondering which oversold stocks might be attractive picks right now for a Tax-Free Savings Account (TFSA) retirement portfolio.

Investors certainly have a variety of options. The TSX Index plunged more than 35% from the 2020 top to the March low. A nice bounce has retraced part of the slide, but many stocks still appear oversold.

Let’s take a look at one unloved Canadian giant that could deliver big gains on a recovery.

Suncor

Suncor Energy (TSX:SU)(NYSE:SU) fell from $40 per share to $15 in a matter of weeks. At the time of writing, the stock is enjoying a surge and trades at $22. The dividend offers a yield of 8.25%.

The Canadian energy sector faced difficulties even before the coronavirus outbreak cut global oil demand by 25%. Amidst the economic challenges, major producers are now waging a nasty price war. Saudi Arabia and Russia abandoned their agreement to curtail output and the two countries are producing more in an already over-saturated market.

Part of the strategy is to put American shale producers out of business. Canadian producers are being hit as collateral damage.

Saudi Arabia has very low production costs compared to most of the industry. If significant global supply goes offline due to business closures, prices could soar on an economic rebound.

Suncor is Canada’s largest integrated energy company. The oilsands and offshore oil production operations are best known and will take a hit from the drop in oil prices. Suncor also operates four large refineries and roughly 1,500 Petro-Canada retail locations.

The refineries benefit from low input costs when oil prices plunge. Demand for their finished products, however, is going to fall in the near term. Suncor produces jet fuel, gasoline, diesel oil, and asphalt.

The company recently cut its capital program to adjust to the downturn. The balance sheet remains in decent shape and it wouldn’t be a surprise to see Suncor go shopping in the current environment. Adding assets at heavily discounted prices can boost production and significantly enhance revenue and profits when the market recovers.

Upside

Alberta is investing US$1.1 billion to ensure the Keystone XL pipeline gets completed, enabling Suncor and other companies with booked space on the pipeline to get product to the United States. TransMountain could also go into service in the next few years.

The battle between Saudi Arabia and Russia can’t go on indefinitely. The two countries need higher oil prices to stabilize their economies. Oil at US$20 per barrel is simply not sustainable over the long haul. A new agreement to curtail output could provide quick relief.

In addition, aggressive government stimulus programs might supercharge the global economy and result in a rerun of what occurred after the financial crisis. Oil prices surged to US$100 in 2014.

Should you buy Suncor now?

Expect more volatility in the coming weeks or months. The Q2 2020 results, in particular, will likely be ugly. However, the upside potential on a recovery probably merits a contrarian investment in Suncor at the current stock price.

If the economic bounce comes as quickly as some pundits predict, Suncor’s share price could double by the end of 2020.

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[goldira01]

The market crash of 2020 has Canadian investors wondering which oversold stocks might be attractive picks right now for a Tax-Free Savings Account (TFSA) retirement portfolio.

Investors certainly have a variety of options. The TSX Index plunged more than 35% from the 2020 top to the March low. A nice bounce has retraced part of the slide, but many stocks still appear oversold.

Let’s take a look at one unloved Canadian giant that could deliver big gains on a recovery.

Suncor

Suncor Energy (TSX:SU)(NYSE:SU) fell from $40 per share to $15 in a matter of weeks. At the time of writing, the stock is enjoying a surge and trades at $22. The dividend offers a yield of 8.25%.

The Canadian energy sector faced difficulties even before the coronavirus outbreak cut global oil demand by 25%. Amidst the economic challenges, major producers are now waging a nasty price war. Saudi Arabia and Russia abandoned their agreement to curtail output and the two countries are producing more in an already over-saturated market.

Part of the strategy is to put American shale producers out of business. Canadian producers are being hit as collateral damage.

Saudi Arabia has very low production costs compared to most of the industry. If significant global supply goes offline due to business closures, prices could soar on an economic rebound.

Suncor is Canada’s largest integrated energy company. The oilsands and offshore oil production operations are best known and will take a hit from the drop in oil prices. Suncor also operates four large refineries and roughly 1,500 Petro-Canada retail locations.

The refineries benefit from low input costs when oil prices plunge. Demand for their finished products, however, is going to fall in the near term. Suncor produces jet fuel, gasoline, diesel oil, and asphalt.

The company recently cut its capital program to adjust to the downturn. The balance sheet remains in decent shape and it wouldn’t be a surprise to see Suncor go shopping in the current environment. Adding assets at heavily discounted prices can boost production and significantly enhance revenue and profits when the market recovers.

Upside

Alberta is investing US$1.1 billion to ensure the Keystone XL pipeline gets completed, enabling Suncor and other companies with booked space on the pipeline to get product to the United States. TransMountain could also go into service in the next few years.

The battle between Saudi Arabia and Russia can’t go on indefinitely. The two countries need higher oil prices to stabilize their economies. Oil at US$20 per barrel is simply not sustainable over the long haul. A new agreement to curtail output could provide quick relief.

In addition, aggressive government stimulus programs might supercharge the global economy and result in a rerun of what occurred after the financial crisis. Oil prices surged to US$100 in 2014.

Should you buy Suncor now?

Expect more volatility in the coming weeks or months. The Q2 2020 results, in particular, will likely be ugly. However, the upside potential on a recovery probably merits a contrarian investment in Suncor at the current stock price.

If the economic bounce comes as quickly as some pundits predict, Suncor’s share price could double by the end of 2020.

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[antihero-writings]

As the Fall Comes—Pandora Hearts Fic for Inktober Prompt 1: Poisonous

Fic Title: As the Fall Comes

Fic synopsis: An in-depth look into Gilbert’s internal monologue in Vol 10, Retrace XL: Blindness, using the theme of Inktober 2018 Prompt 1: Poisonous.

Character Focus: Gilbert

Preview:

It started small. The time when Gilbert was poisoned.

When he first stood up from the banquet table, the room spun, a little too fast, a little too far. And when almost everyone present turned to him with worried faces (after everything that had happened, why wouldn’t they?) he assured them he was fine, that maybe he had had a more to drink than he thought, or perhaps the gravity of all that had happened was catching up to him.

Next his head. Small, sharp pains. Like someone was knocking to get in, like a doctor was sticking a needle in different places to see where it would hurt most. Then it was everywhere that hurt most, and the knocking was on every door and window to his mind. He could do nothing but hold his head in his hands, curse, and pray whoever it was couldn’t get in, and would stop trying.

Then he was coughing, and when he pulled his hand from his mouth, crimson remained. And then he was even vomiting, and Vincent ran to his side, saying his name like he was dying—because, of course, he was. At least, on principle.

Vincent had made sure that the whole house was frantic, on fire, that they were calling the family doctor, using anything and everything they had to save his life.

And somewhere in the middle, he heard Elliot swear under his breath something about the Headhunter, and how one day he would kill him for what he had done to their family.

He didn’t remember much of that night, fever, and blood, and…

And after all that, after all he had put them through, after all his own wonderings Is this really it? Is this where I die? Will I never get to see Oz again? He…was fine.

Fine. Not even a scar, a cold, a leftover cough. When the morning came, and his pillows, sheets, and clothes were changed, all that was left was white, and he could breathe fine, and there was nothing to show he had almost died the night prior.

Everyone said it had to be a miracle, (Bernice said something about how the Abyss had saved him), that there was no other explanation, as no one (or almost no one) comes back from behind poisoned, and they should thank the heavens that the Nightrays hadn’t had to lose someone else.

At the time, he believed it was the worst thing he had ever had to experience.

Until he learned there’s one other thing that works the same way: thoughts can be poisonous too.

They too, started small.

You can read the full fic here on Ao3, or here on tumblr! 

[ronyxfic]

Educating the Victim - Act V, Chapter XL

Pairing: Yellow Diamond/Yellow Pearl

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: mentions of drugs, homophobia and transphobia

Read it on AO3!

Educating the Victim Masterpost

(Previous chapter) (Next chapter)

CHAPTER 40: Pride

  Marigold Diamond woke up uneasy that particular early March day.

Being a fairly proactive person, she immediately shoved the mere notion of negativity aside and poured herself a double espresso. She sipped it while examining the grey of the sky, her car stuck in traffic.

She hated traffic. But not as much as Marigold Diamond utterly loathed being late.

Which she was, at least to her usual standard, by approximately ten minutes. Students were already beginning to file in.

Marigold frowned. Too many students. Way too early.

Suspicious. She couldn’t recall any trips. Perhaps a homework assignment had been due for several classes at once. But even then, gaggles of girls stood by the gates.

Tentatively, she locked her car door. An odd anxiety boiling in her belly as she approached the front office entrance.

   Girls stood outside the door, flocked together, whispering. Eyes darted towards Marigold, and as she approached, they fell silent.

   Marigold swallowed. They’d looked at her in that unpleasant way.

It made her insides feel chill, her throat seizing. She found her fists in small balls.

Despite being decades their senior, experience, and her authority, she was truly scared shitless by teenagers sometimes.

She scowled a little, wondering whether to exert her dominance. Call them out for staring. Detention? No, she couldn’t find a reason to justify it.

They deserve to be punished for looking at me like that.

She swallowed.

This was dumb. People looked at one another. That was typical human nature. She couldn’t control that. Marigold tried to inhale as she attempted to mentally retrace her steps. The traffic. The coffee. The anxiety. It was just making her antsy.

The girls weren’t worth her time. Heck, it was likely that they weren’t even really watching her.

I’m making it up. I’m causing a big fuss because my office was broken into. Don’t look back. You’re going to make a spectacle of yourself, you dumb goose.

 Inside, there seemed to be even more students. Unusual, for a time like this, and they didn’t seem like they were worried, or studying – no, instead they seemed excited.

More glances came Marigold’s way. A small group of teenage girls openly followed her with their eyes and then, as soon as she’d passed them, burst into laughter.

 This was enough to make Marigold finally turn around. No. That wasn’t a coincidence. They were laughing at her. Her breaths turning a smidgeon more erratic, she observed her clothes. Her fly wasn’t down. Her shirt was tucked in. Not a speck on her blazer.

She even spied herself in the reflection of a window, terrified of possible menstrual bleed-through.

Jesus, Marigold. You’re literally done with your menopause.

And yet, her terror remained. She quickly stripped off her blazer, mid stride, checking it for stains. Even her route to the office shifted, trying to avoid more students.

It was perhaps by the fact that she was desperately evading that she came across others trying to evade sight, too. Primarily, Buck Dewey standing beside another sixth former who galloped away at the mere sight of the Principal in the locker area.

Buck Dewey was not nearly as fortunate.

“And a good morning to you, Beatrice.” The Principal curled a lip. “What are you up to?”

 “O-oh, hi, Principal,” he said. “And it’s – it’s Buck now, actually. Uh.” He desperately tried to slip whatever he was holding back into his bag. Subtly. He failed. “Weather’s nice, huh?” he said loudly. “So nice to have the sun come out again.”

 “Whatever it is, I won’t hear it until I see some proper identification.” Marigold waved a hand dismissively, but then pried into Buck’s body language. “What are you hiding, young woman? Show your bag to me.”

 Buck visibly flinched when Marigold called him a ‘woman’. “Nothing. It’s all just, er, regular stuff.” He shuffled in front of his bag, shielding it from Marigold’s glare.

 “Give it here.” It wasn’t a request. She stared him down.

It appeared she’d stumbled upon some form of transaction.

 Buck handed over his bag, unwilling to meet Diamond’s eyes. “There’s, uh, a bottle of water in there,” he said, “very dangerous. You wouldn’t be able to fly with that.”

 Marigold remained unsmiling. She opened the bag and glanced in. It appeared pretty much the regular contents of a student bag until her eyes focused on a tiny square inside a sealable plastic bag. The square wasn’t much bigger than her fingernail, and appeared to have a tiny picture of a cartoon character printed on it.

She picked it out, dangling it in front of Buck. “My, my. And what have we here?”

   “Breathmint.” Buck held her gaze steadily, sweating.

 “Oh? And should I eat it?” She called his bluff straight away. “Haven’t had a breath mint with... what is that, Adventure Time....? Characters on it.”

 “I-if you want, Principal. Can I have my bag back, please?”

 She returned the bag. It was time to get to the office and finally escape further... voyeurism from the students. Besides, judging from the line of sweat on Buck’s face, she figured she’d had her fun. “You’ll be hearing from me later.”

 Buck took his chance and legged it.

Several more students were practically lying in wait around the Principal’s office. As soon as they saw Marigold, phones were taken out. Whispering ensued, and then, as Diamond passed, silence.

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be? This area is off limits.” It wasn’t. ”Shoo.” She huffed, slamming the door as she finally found herself with some privacy.

Something was most certainly going on. Too many stares. Too little fear. What sort of conspiracy even was this? Was it related to the break-in? She’d still found herself empty handed on the pursuit of that, too.

She made eye contact with Aurora as she stepped in the room, and once again her memory spun to that awful night. Not much of it remained in her mind past a familiar set of near golden eyes she found herself staring at.

Aurora did not break into your office.

Or, at least, she found herself repeatedly affirming that in her head. Loose thoughts scattering and further spilling into the reservoir of paranoia. Why was she working so hard to believe it wasn’t Aurora?

Aurora was too sweet. Aurora wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Her mind had likely made the vision up.

She bitterly grunted to herself. Perhaps she’d seen Aurora for a split second that night because... Aurora was what she had wanted to see.

That’s disgusting. I’m disgusting. She found her palm quivering a little. No. You’re not like that.

“Aurora, would you turn the kettle on? I need a tea after this morning.”

 “Sure, Principal.” Aurora got up and busied herself in their little kitchen area. “Did something happen?”

 “Just the usual grievances.” Marigold attempted to roll her eyes. Anything to mask her torment. “Although... I must say, I do feel something odd must be happening in the student body. There’s so many of them for such an early hour. And so many near the office - did you see them? It’s like we’re feeding stray cats tuna. Almost as if they’re... eager to come in.”

 Aurora didn’t meet her eyes.

“I hadn’t noticed, Principal.” She took out two mugs – habit – and teabags. “We’re nearly out of milk.”

 “I’ll pick up a new thing of it. What alternative do you want this time?” Oh. Aurora was being... tactile, for once. Or, at the very least, quiet and obedient. Too quiet. Marigold didn’t know if she liked it or not. “I’ve been eyeing up the oatmilk.”

 “I don’t mind. I’ve heard coconut is good.” The kettle boiled. Aurora poured two mugs. She knew how Marigold took her tea.

She set the mug down in front of Marigold. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Principal?”

 Marigold remained frowning. “You... really didn’t notice the abnormal amount of students at eight am? I don’t recall anything going on today at all.”

Aurora can’t be in on it. She wouldn’t be.

Marigold stiffened, all paranoid thoughts returning at full force.

If I can’t trust her... who can I trust?

She glanced at Aurora with suspicion, her cheeks beginning to burn. No. She paid Aurora to work here. She had authority in this school. It was her sanctuary.

The thought of some form of mutiny made her insides chill again. No. She stared at Aurora. “There’s nothing happening, yes?”

 Aurora drew in a quiet breath. She forced herself to look at the Principal, and put on an innocent smile. “Not to my knowledge, Principal. Why would you think that?”

 Marigold grew stiller.

Before taking a sharp inhale, her face crumpling as if she were about to cry.

She then took another breath and her face had transformed itself into a stony expression. Her voice was cold. Quiet. “I don’t know, Aurora. Could it perhaps be the fact that my office was literally broken into? That my things were stolen? Broken?” She found her voice raising, the noises she made were becoming ever more shrill by the syllable. “Could it be the fact that for the past few days, I have received nothing but stares, only for them to get worse today?”

Her breathing had turned ragged. Her entire body shaking as she took looming steps towards Aurora. “Could it be the fact that my secretary decided to abandon my friendship with her on a whim? With no choice or explaination? Could it be the fact that despite that, I still have to talk to you? I still have to pay you? Aurora Jaune,”  She was close enough to Aurora to perhaps begin a tango. Seething. “I hate you. Leave this office. Now.”

 Aurora didn’t move. Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes from just how much it hurt, hearing Marigold say that.

Even though she knew it wasn’t true.

She stood her ground,

“Well,” she said, her voice thick. “It wasn’t me who poured all your alcohol down a drain while you had to watch. You threw this relationship away, not me. I was only ever a victim. Principal.”

 “Is that what you’re so trifled with? Heavens, I don’t even remember that evening!” A red hot fury bore over her mind. “But what I can remember is you begging, pleading me to stop.” She took another step forward, forcing Aurora to back into the wall. “We didn’t have a relationship. I was chasing temptation, and now I’m not. You were the one to abandon me. You... you changed your number when I needed you. When I was sobering up, like you asked.”

Marigold felt her cheeks wet. She hadn’t realised she was crying. This was enough to make her back away. “Go. Leave. Get our of my sight.” Her voice registered as shaky now.

 Aurora couldn’t hold back the tears. Just like Marigold. “I never asked you to abandon me. I never asked you to quit cold turkey. I’m not the one who ruined our relationship, Marigold, I was the only reason it kept going as long as it did! I – I –“ She broke down. Grabbed a tissue from her desk and blew her nose. “I loved you and you won’t even admit we had a relationship.”

 This was enough. She didn’t want Aurora to watch her cry. She didn’t want to watch Aurora cry. “I thought I told you to get out!”

 Aurora stared her down, tears still flowing. “You don’t have that kind of power over me anymore, Marigold. I’m not scared of you.”

 Marigold turned around and left the room, wordless. Head pounding. A part of her felt tempted to just run. Run, quit and never return.

However, Marigold had indeed mastered ignoring temptation.

She’d taken to patrolling when angry. If it was war the student body wanted, then it was war it would get.

 Pearl noticed Marigold angrily pacing as she came into the school.

Today was already going to be... interesting.

As she approached the Principal, she thought that Diamond’s eyeliner wasn’t quite as astute as usual.

“Principal,” she said with in sweetest tone she could muster, “I have another letter for you. You know, the same one as the one I gave you yesterday? I heard you lost that one, so I got you a replacement.” She waved the papers in Marigold’s face.

 Marigold snatched them, stared Pearl down, and tore the stack in two before crumpling the shreds into a ball and throwing them onto the floor. “Leave me ALONE!”  She yelled into Pearls’s face and strode off, boiling.

Before long, though, she found her face growing wet again.

Oh.

Crying in front of Aurora was already despicable enough for her. Doing so in front of any students seemed to be social suicide. Her salvation came in the form of the staff restrooms, to which she strode into and immediately sprinted into a cubicle to calm down.

 Peridot saw her disappear, and decided to follow her. Just to... watch her. And potentially lead her in the right direction.

She washed her hands, initially to kill time, but as she thought about the situation more, the motions became more nervous.

 Marigold, now slightly more composed, quickly grew suspicious of the sound of water for a solid five minutes. “Is... is someone out there?”

 Peridot jumped. “Just m-me, Principal,” she said quickly. “Peridot. Uh. I’m just... washing my hands.”

 “Oh.” She wiped off her eyeliner, now utterly smudged, off with a wipe from her pocket. “Seems an awfully long time to... Be doing that.”

 Peridot panicked. “I – uh – I get sensory overload a lot!” she blurted. “I’m not here to keep tabs on you! Why would I do that!” And with that, she turned off the faucet and scampered outside, where she leaned against the wall, trying not to freak out.

 Marigold found herself chasing the young teacher down. Her face felt barren. She managed to just pluck Peridot by her shoulder. “So. You were keeping tabs on me?”

 “N-no I wasn’t! Okay maybe a little but only because we weren’t sure if you’d seen it yet!” stammered Peridot, looking up at Diamond fearfully.

 Marigold frowned. Was this it? “Seen... what?”

 Peridot slumped, hung her head. “I’ll show you,” she said, defeated. “It’s – it’s really nothing bad.”

 Marigold softened a little as she followed, finding herself in the direction of the gym. “At least you’re not denying that there’s something going on. What is it, then? Some sort of student affair I wasn’t informed about?”

 “In a sense,” Peridot said cautiously, “but... several members of staff are involved as well.” She made her way to the gym in the comforting knowledge that Lapis and Jasper would protect her.

“We’re here,” she said, holding the door open for Marigold.

 Marigold stepped in, her eyes widening. The gym had been set up as if it was some sort of party - streamers, balloons and posters hugged the walls and ceilings. Several stands had also set up.

And absolutely everything was covered in rainbows.

“What on Earth....” she whispered, craning her neck forward. Her voice suddenly turned cold. “Who is responsible for this?”

 “It’s Pride,” Peridot said, her voice small. “We thought the students needed something to keep morale up for the exams... and we have a large number of queer staff and students... and we just wanted to show people, that it’s okay, and good and that you can celebrate it, and you’re... more than welcome to join, Principal.” She spotted Jasper at the other end of the gym, staring at the Principal wide-eyed before seeing Peridot and jogging over.

 Marigold spent another second taking in the excited students; some of them had taken to painting flags on their faces. The stalls looked... almost interesting.

All looked happy.

Par Marigold.

Jasper had no time to speak to her as she swiftly turned on her heel and stomped away. She needed to get out. She was losing control. Of the school. Of the student body, the teachers. She found herself crying again.

Stop that. Stop that right now. You’ve done that twice now. You look pathetic. Stop.

Girls were looking at her as she passed them by. It was nearly nine, the school filling in. Some had turned up in rainbow themed clothes. Marigold tried to outrun her urge to scream at them, to tell them to get back into uniform.

But... for the first time, she found herself surrounded. Overpowered. Outmanned. She had no power to stop this. The students. That cursed pride event. Her own breakdown.

Aurora was still in the front area to the office, but Marigold barely registered her at this point.

They should be hating themselves. Those girls shouldn’t be happy. They shouldn’t be allowed to be happy. They’re sick. They’re sick, Marigold. Get a hold of yourself and go out there and bring a stop to it.

She was finally in her office. Alone. She slammed the door into her inner cubicle with enough force to regret it after one of the hinges rattled a little dangerously. Her desperate, frantic thoughts begged for an outlet. She wanted to hurt something, someone.

She wanted to do nothing more in this precise second than to drink. Drink until her throat burnt. Drink until she was sick.

Drink until it all just ended.

“Whatever!” she screamed, stomping into the now near cleaned office. She found herself rummaging her desk cupboards, all the places she used to store alcohol. Fine. That was it. Screw sobriety. She didn’t want to be sober.

No one showed her affection when sober. No one loved her while she was sober.

But, of course. No alcohol remained. It had been the case for months.

She gave a loud, painful scream and proceeded to angrily open her drawers and throw papers onto the floor, all while continuously both sobbing and yelling, frustrated.

She only stopped as her fingers reached Claire’s will, still in its stash.

Her eyes narrowed. The thin layer of dust bore fingerprints.

She hadn’t touched it in years.

Bizarre. This was all surreal. The day. The argument. The stares. She placed the will back into the drawer and slid her hands in her pockets, determined to lock the papers away from prying eyes.

However, as her hand reached for the desk key, she found herself pulling out the small square she’d confiscated from Buck.

Marigold Diamond knew very little about drugs. She’d confiscated enough of them in her time, of course, to know the potent smells and obvious effects of nonalcoholic intoxication. Azure had once upon a time gone through a phase, back when they’d both still played Bridge, of following Roxy to clubs and bars in their youth and filled Marigold in with stories of trips and sensations alcohol could never even begin to bring.

She inspected the small square. What even was it? It had no smell. It barely existed. What sort of dosage even was it?

Why are you even wondering about this? This is a waste of time. You have things to do.

Executive dysfunction held her in place like a stuck marionette.

It’s obviously some form of drug. Heroin? No, I don’t think that’s what... what do children even consume nowadays? What did they do in the clubs. Oh. Ecstasy? Yes, that must be it.

Despite her soaked face, she found herself smiling for a brief second. Ecstasy seemed preferable to this disarray of broken and burning emotions.

Don’t. This is incredibly silly. You really shouldn’t even be touching it. You should go and call the police department, right now. Tell them that you found a student with drugs.

She looked at the telephone, and then at the tab.

The police will come in. They’ll sort this out.

She began to walk towards the phone before pausing.

And what then?

It would take a while for the police to arrive.

That doesn’t matter. Just call.

She’d have Buck apprehended.

And then I’ll go back to this.

Back to this.

Back to this...

Marigold looked around the room and swallowed the tablet.

> Act V, Chapter XLI

[the-good-reader]

C3: Scrap-Collecting Immortal’s Third Ascension to Godhood

Xie Lian [XL] had been reduced to a laughingstock of the 3 realms, with no incense, offerings, temples or believers.

The 2 retainers under him, Feng Xin [FX] and Mu Qing [MQ] had surpassed him.

If you were to ask XL to choose whether FX or MQ made him feel more awkward, he would say, “They’re all okay ah!”

However, if you asked bystanders who they wanted to see Xl fight, then everyone would make different choices- it was hard to pick which is the more interesting option.

Because of this, when there was no response from FX's side because he immediately hid and stopped talking, people were naturally disappointed.

Meanwhile, XL put himself down as he said: “I also didn’t anticipate making a commotion like this. It wasn’t deliberate, I’ve inconvenienced everyone.” MQ responded coolly, ...Oh, then that was indeed quite coincidental.

XL too thought it was coincidental.

How could the clock fall right onto MQ, while his ascension also happened to destroy FX’s palace?

This would look deliberate to bystanders.

However, XL was the type that managed to pick the sole poisoned cup among a thousand cups of wine.

He could only say, “I will try my best to compensate for everyone’s golden palaces and other losses. I also hope you may give me some time.”

XL was still genuinely pondering over where he was supposed to get those 8,880,000 merits when Ling Wen [LW] invited him to go to her Ling Wen Palace.

Ling Wen was the Heavenly Official in charge of managing Heaven’s personnel.

When mortals wished to get a step ahead in their careers, they would worship her.

Her palace was filled to the brim with official documents and scrolls, an utterly shocking scene.

When the two of them finally entered the Palace Hall, LW turned around and got straight to the point., ...Your Highness, there is a matter in which the Emperor would like to request your help. Are you willing to assist him and lend a helping hand?

In Heaven, there were many people who had the titles ZhenJun or YuanJun.

However, only one person could be called the Emperor.

XL was confused as this person would never have the need to call other people for help.

XL asks, "What matter?" ...“Recently, the North has a large number of zealous worshippers repeatedly praying for blessings. It can be assumed that they aren’t passing their days peacefully.”

These so-called zealous worshippers generally referred to three types of people:

Rich people who pay money in order to burn incense and build temples for gods.

Missionaries who would preach to bystanders.

People whose body and mind are thoroughly doused in faith and belief.

Most of these worshippers belonged to the first category, as in this world, rich people were like carps passing through rivers.

The third category had the least people; if one was truly able to get to that level of faith, they wouldn’t be far from ascending themselves.

The people LW mentioned were clearly from the first category, ...At present, the Emperor cannot attend to the North. If you are willing to take his place and make the trip, when the time comes, regardless of how much offerings these zealous worshippers make, everything will be allocated to your altar. What do you think? XL received the scroll with both hands as he said, “Many thanks.”

Emperor Jun Wu [JW] was clearly helping XL, but he had flipped it around and made it sound like he was asking XL for help.

XL realized this, but couldn't think of anything other to say than the 2 words he had said already.

LW replied, ...I’m only responsible for handling these affairs. If you want to thank someone, you should wait for the Emperor to return before personally thanking him instead. —Oh right, do you need my help borrowing any magical artefacts? XL answered, "There’s no need. Even if you give me a magical artefact, once I go down I won’t have any spiritual power, and so I won’t be able to use it.

XL has been beaten down twice, so he had lost his power.

In the Heavens, spiritual power was abundant, so he couls casually grab some to use.

If XL wanted to fight with magic in the mortal realm, he could only make do by finding someone he could borrow spiritual energy from, something extremely inconvenient.

LW pondered before saying, ...Then it would be best to borrow a few martial gods to assist you and lend a helping hand.

The current martial gods either didn’t recognize him, or they didn’t like him. Xie Lian understood that thoroughly, and so he responded, “There’s also no need for that. You won’t be able to borrow anyone.” LW seemed to have thought it seriously and only said, ...I’ll give it a try.

XL didn't oppose her words, and allowed her to try.

As a result,LW entered the spirit communication array before announcing in a bright tone, ...Everyone, the Emperor has an important task to be handled in the North and urgently need people. Which martial god Highness can lend out two martial officials from their Palace Halls to help? MQ’s floaty voice emerged, ...I’ve heard that the Emperor isn’t in the North right now, so I’m afraid you’re borrowing people for His Highness the Crown Prince, right? XL mentally thought, “Are you keeping guard at the spirit communication array all day long…?”

LW was in the same wavelength as him.

Although she was angry, she spoke with a smile, ...Xuan Zhen, why am I always seeing you in the array these two days? It seems like you’ve been stealing time to slack off and now you’re quite idle. Congratulations, congratulations. MQ replied in a light tone, ...My hand is injured, so I’m recuperating.

Every Heavenly Official there mentally thought, ...In the past, it would be nothing difficult for that hand of yours to split a mountain in half. So, what would hacking a foolish clock into pieces do to you?

LW had originally wanted to decieve 2 people, but now she was certain she wouldn't find anyone.

XL also didn’t believe anyone would come forward, and thus told her, “You see, I said you wouldn’t be able to borrow anyone.” ...If Xuan Zhen didn’t say anything, I would have indeed been able to. XL smiled, “Those words of yours had been as if you were carrying a pipa, but concealing half its face, beautifully blurring the scene to some degree. People would have thought they were going to help the Emperor with some work, so of course they would come. But when they come and realize they were going to have to work with me, I’m afraid there would be trouble. How could we work together like that? In any case, I’m used to being alone, and I’m not missing an arm or a leg, so let’s just go with this ah. Thank you for your trouble, I’ll leave now.” LW was also powerless, she cupped her hands in a salute before saying, ...Alright. I wish Your Highness’ journey goes smoothly, and may the blessings of Heaven’s Officials be upon you. “All taboos are off!”

Waving his hand, he left in a confident and carefree manner. ---

Three days later, mortal realm, the North.

By the side of a major road, there was a small teahouse.

The shopkeepers were simple folks, but goods were expensive because the scenery was good.

There were mountains and bodies of water, there were people and a city. They had everything, not much of everything—not much, but just right.

The teahouse’s tea sommelier was exceedingly idle, since he currently didn’t have any customers.

He was happily looking when, from afar, he saw a Taoist clad in white walking over.

The Taoist was covered in dust, looking as if he had been walking for a very long time. When he came closer, he walked past the small teahouse, before suddenly stopping in his tracks and slowly retracing his steps.

The Taoist tilted up his bamboo hat with his hand before raising his head. He only took one glance at the store before he started speaking with a smile.

“‘Chance Encounter’ little store, the name is interesting.”

Although this person had a tired appearance, he also had a face full of smiles, “Excuse me, may I ask if Mount Yu Jun is nearby?” The tea sommelier pointed in a direction for him, “It is in this region.”

That person breathed out, and for once he didn’t spit out his soul with that breath. In his mind, he thought, “I’ve finally arrived.”

This person was precisely Xie Lian.

He left the Immortal City that day.

XL had wanted to fall near Mount Yu Jun, but his sleeve got caught on a carefree cloud.

He tumbled around at a lofty, high altitude, and by the time he rolled down, he had no idea where he was.

After three days on foot, he finally reached his originally planned arrival location. Thus, for a short while, he felt extremely moved.

Entering the teahouse, Xie Lian picked a table beside the window before asking for some tea and snacks.

He had just got seated when he suddenly heard endless wailing and the sound of beating drums from outside the room.

He saw a group of people from all ages escorting a crimson-red bridal sedan as they walked past the teahouse.

If one looked closely, they would notice how the faces of these people all had solemn expressions—expressions of grief, anger, dread, yet the only emotion that wasn’t present was joy.

Whatever the case, it didn’t have the appearance of a wedding.

However, contrary to that thought, everyone was wearing red flowers as they played wind instruments and beat their drums.

This situation was really too strange.

That tea sommelier carried a copper teapot in his hand and raised it up high to pour some tea.

He he didn't seem to be shocked by this.

XL was just about to take out the scroll Ling Wen had given him to look over one more time, when he suddenly felt something dazzling flit by.

The moment XL raised his head, a silver butterfly flew past his eyes.

That silver butterfly was sparkly and translucent, looking pure and limpid. As it flew around in the air, it left behind bright traces.

XL couldn’t help but reach out a hand toward it.

This butterfly was extremely intelligent. Not only was it not frightened, it even temporarily stopped on his fingertips, both wings glittering and beautiful to the utmost degree.

Under the sunshine, it looked as if it was a fragment of an illusion.

After a moment, however, it flew away.

XL waved at it, something that could be considered as his goodbye.

But when he turned back, his table had two more people sitting there.

Both were teenage boys who looked around eighteen or nineteen years old.

The one on the left was taller, with facial expressions that looked quite defined and brightly handsome. Within his gaze was an arrogant and obstinate light.

The right side had very light skin. He looked delicate and pretty, yet also refined. However, his expression looked somewhat overly cold and apathetic, an appearance that made it seem as if he wasn’t too happy. In fact, the colour of the faces of both people didn’t look that great.

XL blinked his eyes before asking, “You two are?” The one on the left replied, ...Nan Feng [NF] The person on the right responded, ...Fu Yao [FY]

Xie Lian mentally thought: “It’s not like I’m asking for your names…”

At that moment, LW suddenly transmitted her voice over, ...Your Highness, there are two small martial gods from Middle Heaven who are willing to help. They’ve already gone down to look for you, so they should have arrived by now ah.

The so-called Middle Heaven was naturally relative to Upper Heaven.

The Heavenly Officials of Heaven could be simply and roughly divided into two categories: the ones that ascended, and the ones that didn’t.

The Heavenly Officials of Upper Heaven had all ascended by relying on themselves.

Being only about a hundred of them, they were each extremely precious.

But within Middle Heaven, the deities there were the ones who were brought up by “appointing them as deputy”.

Strictly speaking, their full names ought to be called “Fellow Heavenly Officials”.

However, when people called them, more often than not they would leave out that “fellow” word.

Since there was an Upper Heaven and a Middle Heaven, was there a Lower Heaven?

There wasn’t.

Actually, when XL ascended for the first time, Heaven was still divided as Upper Heaven and Lower Heaven.

But later, everyone found a problem when they introduced themselves to say, “I am from Lower Heaven’s so-and-so”, it sounded truly unpleasant.

With the ‘lower’ word existing, it made them feel especially inferior.

The only difference between them and real Heavenly Officials was merely how they lacked experiencing a Heavenly Tribulation, but who knew when that day would come.

Therefore, some people proposed to change a single word—turning introductions into ‘I am from Middle Heaven’s so-and-so’. This was much more pleasurable to hear than before.

After the change, XL hadn’t gotten used to it even after quite a while.

Xie Lian looked at these two small martial gods and thought it was unlikely they were “willing to come forward and help”.

Thus, he couldn’t help but ask, “Ling Wen ah, I think they don’t look like they came down to help me, and instead it looks more like they want to retrieve my dog head. Did you deceive them to get them to come?”

Unfortunately, it seemed that this question of his wasn’t transmitted out.

XL was incapable of doing anything else, so he first gave a smile to both the small martial gods before saying, “Was it Nan Feng and Fu Yao? To be willing to come and help me, let me thank you in advance.”

They both nodded, and appeared to have a somewhat lofty attitude.

Xie Lian had the tea sommelier bring two more cups of tea, “Which Highness’ Palace are you under?”

NF replied, ...Nan Yang Palace Hall. FY said, ...Xuan Zhen Palace Hall.” “….”

This truly made one feel frightened.

“Your Palaces’ Generals allowed you to come?” Both responded, ...My Palace’s General didn’t know I came. “Then, do you know who I am?” NF replied, ...You are His Royal Highness the Crown Prince. FY said, ...You are the correct path for the human world, you are the heart of the universe.

Xie Lian choked once, before he asked NF in an uncertain manner, “Just now, did he roll his eyes?” ...He did, let him scram.

Nan Yang’s relationship with Xuan Zhen wasn’t good, so when XL heard of that matter, he didn’t really feel surprised.

This was because, even back then, FX's and MQ’s relationship hadn’t been all that great.

Thus, even the worshippers from the Southeast and Southwest didn’t look upon each other in a positive light, while the Nan Yang Palace Hall and the Xuan Zhen Palace Hall had even more mutual hatred for each other.

FY smiled sarcastically as he stated, ...Ling Wen ZhenJun said that if you were willing, you could come. So, for what reason would I scram and leave?

The word ‘voluntary’, saying it with his expression didn’t look convincing.

XL said, “Let me confirm once. Are you two really voluntarily doing this? If you’re not, by all means, don’t force yourself ah.” Both said, ...I willingly volunteered.

Looking at those two deeply sad faces, XL mentally thought: "The words the two of you actually wanted to say were ‘I want to commit suicide’, right? “In short—” XL began, “Let’s first discuss the real work. You guys already know why we came to the North this time, so I won’t start explaining from the beginning…” Both of them interrupted him, ...I don’t know why.

XL could only take out his scroll before saying, “Then it would be best if I explain everything from the start.” ---

It was said that many years ago in Mount Yu Jun, there was a bride and a groom who loved each other very much and were about to be wed.

The bridegroom waited for the procession that delivered the bride, but even after waiting for a long time, he didn’t see the bride arrive.

He began to feel anxious, and thus began to look for the bride’s family, who informed him that his bride had long set off.

The two households reported this to the officials before they began looking in all directions.

Going from beginning to end of the procession's route, they never found her.

But even if she had been eaten by a fierce beast in the mountains, there should have been remains of an arm or a leg or what not.

How could she disappear in thin air?

Inevitablly, people harbored suspicions that the bride herself didn’t wish to marry, resulting in her colluding with the procession before escaping.

But who would have known that after a few years, another new couple married and the nightmare repeated itself - The bride disappeared again.

However, this time she didn’t leave without a trace.

On a small road, people found a foot that something hadn’t quite finished eating.

[sonyclasica]

TOM HOLKENBORG

MÚSICA DE LA SERIE ORIGINAL DE NETFLIX WHITE LINES

Milan Records anuncia el lanzamiento de WHITE LINES (MÚSICA DE LA SERIE ORIGINAL DE NETFLIX) con música del productor, músico, compositor y mentor multiplatino TOM HOLKENBORG, también conocido como JUNKIE XL. Disponible hoy viernes 15 de mayo, el álbum presenta música escrita por Holkenborg para la nueva serie original de Netflix White Lines que cuenta la historia de una joven que navega por la isla de Ibiza buscando respuestas a la misteriosa muerte de su hermano. 

Mira el tráiler aquí

Para este trabajo, Holkenborg ha sido capaz de aprovechar su propia experiencia musical en Ibiza y en clubes de todo el mundo como productor multiplatino, multiinstrumentista y productor de música electrónica. Con un extenso currículum de trabajos musicales que incluyen las bandas sonoras de Mad Max: Fury Road, Alita: Battle Angel y Deadpool, Holkenborg ofrece el acompañamiento sonoro perfecto de la cultura del dance club en Ibiza en la que está ambientada la serie. De Álex Pina, creador del galardonado drama criminal Money Heist, WHITE LINES se estrena en Netflix el viernes 15 de mayo.

De la banda sonora, TOM HOLKENBORG dice: “Ha sido un placer volver a sumergirme en mis raíces electrónicas y volver a algunos recuerdos increíbles de Ibiza con la música para White Lines. Aunque gran parte de la música no está centrada en la música de discotecas —debido a que autorizaron la utilización de muchas pistas originales de finales de los 90 y principios de los 2000— creo que mi trabajo logró capturar parte de la magia que hace que la cultura de la disco y la isla sean tan especiales. Fue un proyecto personal muy divertido y espero que a la gente le encante la serie".

De los equipos creadores de La Casa de Papel (Álex Pina) y The Crown (Left Bank Pictures) llega WHITE LINES. Cuando se descubre el cuerpo de un legendario DJ de Manchester veinte años después de su misteriosa desaparición en Ibiza, su hermana regresa a la hermosa isla española para averiguar qué sucedió. Su investigación la llevará a través de un emocionante mundo de música dance, grandes yates, mentiras y encubrimientos, obligándola a confrontar los lados más oscuros de su propio personaje en un lugar donde la gente vive la vida al límite. WHITE LINES fue escrita por Álex Pina. La serie fue producida por Andy Harries y Sharon Hughff en Left Bank Pictures y Álex Pina y Cristina López Ferraz en Vancouver Media, y fue producida por Chris Croucher. WHITE LINES se estrena en Netflix a nivel mundial el 15 de mayo de 2020.

WHITE LINES (MUSIC FROM THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES)

LISTADO DE CANCIONES:

1.       Zoe’s Arrival

2.       Times Gone By

3.       Darker Night

4.       Missing You

5.       On The Road

6.       Ibiza Bar

7.       I’m Happy for You

8.       Live Life

9.       Manchester Life

10.    In The Club

11.    Boxer

12.    It Was Ours

13.    Infinity

14.    The Past

15.    Repercussions

16.    Romance

17.    Retrace The Path

18.    My Goddess

19.    New Day

20.    Discoveries

21.    Accident

22.    Closure

23.    Diving for Prizes

24.    Family Troubles

25.    Memories

26.    Zoe

TOM HOLKENBORG

Tom Holkenborg, también conocido como Junkie XL, es un productor, músico, compositor y educador multiplatino nominado al Grammy® cuya versatilidad lo coloca a la vanguardia de la música contemporánea, así como a la vanguardia de los compositores cinematográficos más innovadores.

Tom ha trabajado en la composición de la música de películas que han recaudado más de $2 mil millones en la taquilla, entre las que se incluyen: Mad Max: Fury Road, Deadpool, Black Mass, Alita Battle Angel, Divergent, Brimstone, The Dark Tower, Tomb Raider, Terminator: Dark Fate y más recientemente Sonic the Hedgehog, con resultados récord. Ha trabajado con directores como Peter Jackson, Robert Rodriguez, James Cameron, George Miller, Christopher Nolan, Zack Snyder y Tim Miller, entre muchos otros.

Tom aprovecha su amplio conocimiento de las formas y estructuras clásicas sin perder el pulso a la música popular. Cuando esta experiencia ecléctica se combina con su habilidad como multiinstrumentista (toca el teclado, la guitarra, la batería, el violín y el bajo y se describe a sí mismo como un "compositor de contacto completo") y un dominio de la tecnología de estudio, surge el retrato de un artista para quien todo es posible.

Para Tom, la base de su trabajo cinematográfico está en su Holanda natal, donde creó múltiples composiciones para películas y se formó con los famosos compositores Harry Gregson Williams (en "Domino" y "Kingdom of Heaven") y Klaus Badelt (en "Catwoman"). Pero las cosas realmente comenzaron a tomar forma cuando Tom comenzó a colaborar con el compositor ganador del Oscar Hans Zimmer. Su colaboración duró varios años, y más recientemente incluyó el éxito de taquilla Batman vs Superman de 2016, que marcó el séptimo conjunto de Holkenborg y Zimmer. Holkenborg trabajó con Zimmer en The Amazing Spider Man 2 (2014), Man of Steel (2013), Dark Knight Rises (2012), Madagascar 3 (2012), Megamind (2010) e Inception (2010).

La carrera musical de Holkenborg comenzó en 1993 cuando formó la banda de rock industrial Nerv y también cuando producía bandas de hardcore y metal como Sepultura y Fear Factory. Atraído por la música electrónica, creó Junkie XL en 1997 debutando con el álbum Saturday Teenage Kick. Holkenborg produjo cinco álbumes más con el nombre de Junkie XL mientras ofrecía conciertos como artista principal en todo el mundo. En 2002 el productor y remixer obtuvo un éxito número 1 en 24 países con su nueva versión de "A Little Less Conversation". Después de su éxito, Holkenborg colaboró con artistas célebres como Dave Gahan, Robert Smith, Chuck D y también creó remixes de artistas como Coldplay, Depeche Mode, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake y muchos más. Además, Holkenborg creó la música para videojuegos como FIFA, Need For Speed, The Sims y SSX y para comerciales de campañas mundiales de Nike, Heineken, Adidas, Cadillac y VISA, entre otros.

A lo largo de su carrera, la educación y la mentoría han sido fundamentales para Tom. Creó un programa de licenciatura en el prestigioso Conservatorio ArtEZ, en su ciudad natal de Enschede, para composición musical, de la que se graduaron más de 200 estudiantes, y continuó su compromiso con la educación en plataformas digitales, produciendo la serie de mentorías en línea gratuitos, Studio Time, que ha sido vista millones de veces.

En 2019 Tom lanzó la Academia SCORE, un programa educativo de 'contacto completo' en Los Ángeles. SCORE Academy, que acepta estudiantes anualmente, ofrece un plan de estudios diseñado por Tom, para educar a una nueva generación de compositores de cine y elevar sus habilidades al más alto nivel en todos los aspectos de la composición, programación de diseño de sonido, producción musical, tecnología musical y la industria de música de cine. En 2019 Tom también se unió a Orchestral Tools para crear Junkie XL Brass, aportando sus mejores prácticas para construir y crear su primera biblioteca de samples.

CONECTA CON WHITE LINES

SITIO WEB

[descubes]

In the Paris Open Source Summit, I had a long discussion with engineers from AdaCore, that reminded me of the early roots of XL in Ada. I have never really retraced the steps along the way, and this was an interesting walk for me. I thought I’d share…

My interest in programming languages is quite old. Actually, I had been writing development tools for as long as I can remember:

My first published program, at age 14, was an extension of the Sinclair Spectrum BASIC that gave new features such as flood fill or a primitive window system.

A few years later, I published HPDS (HP Development System), a cross-compiler for HP-48 and HP-28 calculators that used an extended version of the built-in language, including a complete assembler (you can already see the Alsys commenting style in this example). HPDS did not have much success, but some of the games I developed with it are still available on the Internet today.

Also, I had been deeply fascinated by the Sinclair QL’s SuperBasic, which had departed so much from regular BASIC that it was probably closer to Pascal.

The direction of my thinking about programming languages changed drastically when, as an engineering student, I met the Ada programming language.

Step 0 (1990s): From Alsys SA to LX

During my last year in engineering school, my internship was at Alsys SA, a company that was producing high-quality Ada compilers, written themselves in Ada. I have very fond memories of that period. I learned quite a bit with the brilliant engineers at that company. The commenting style I still use today is a remnant of that training period.

I learned Ada by reading the reference manual. I remember being very impressed by this language, notably by the standardisation effort. At the time, no two Pascal or C compilers were behaving the same. You had the Turbo Pascal dialect, the Think C dialect which was different from the MPW C, etc… I also liked the “solid feel” of the Ada language.

Yet, from the very beginning, I felt like Ada was a bit too restrictive. That was the incentive I needed to start thinking about my own programming language.

Step 0bis: WASHB – What Ada Should Have Been

In the very early days, I thought of my language as some enhanced version of Ada. So I called it WASHB, short for What Ada Should Have Been. Obviously, my knack for catchy names and acronyms had not entirely developed back then. That name obviously did not stick for very long, and WASHB was never anything more than a vague specification.

Step 1 (1995): LX (Langage eXpérimental)

The first serious effort at creating a real language was called LX, which were the initials for “Langage eXpérimental”, or “experimental language” in Shakespearian. I don’t have much data on the evolution of the language at that time, besides old Word documents that are unreadable on modern versions of Word. In particular, I no longer have source code that I can reliably trace back to that era.

  An LX compiler generating 68K assembly code

I do remember however that I had a compiler that was generating assembly code for the Motorola 68K family of CPUs. I was developing on Atari ST at the time, and I remember testing the generated code on an embedded board with a 68040 back when I was working for the HP Test and Measurement Organisation in France.

That early compiler went far enough to compile “Hello World“. I do believe that this was with a standard library written in the language itself.

A language that can build its own standard library

LX was still very Ada-like. Still, as I recall (I no longer have computer records of that period), several ideas had already solidified by that time, which I will expand on later:

Giving up on superfluous syntactic markers such as terminating semi-colon.

Using generics to write standard library component such as arrays or I/O facilities.

Making the compiler an integral part of the language, which led to…

having a normalised abstract syntax tree, and…

considering “pragmas” as a way to invoke compiler extensions.

I am quite positive about these ideas emerging at the time, because they derived from concerns about Ada having too many “magic thingies”, and these concerns were already well formed while I was working at Alsys.

What I disliked about Ada

I never liked magic in a language. To me, keywords demonstrated a weakness in the language, since they indicated something that you could not build in the library using the language itself. Ada had plenty of keywords and magic constructs.

Let me elaborate a bit on some specific frustrations with Ada:

Tasks in Ada were built-in language constructs. This was inflexible. Developers were already hitting limits of the Ada-83 tasking model. My desire was to put any tasking facility in a library, while retaining an Ada-style syntax and semantics.

Similarly, arrays were defined by the language. I wanted to build them (or, at least, describe their interface) using standard language features such as generics. Use cases I had in mind was interfacing with languages that had different array layouts such as Fortran and C, or using an array-style interface to access on-disk records. Back then, mmap was unavailable on most platforms.

Ada text I/O facilities were uncomfortable. But at that time, there was no good choice, and it was mostly a game of picking the poison that would kill you:

In Pascal, WriteLn could take as many arguments as you needed and was type safe, but it was a magic procedure in Pascal, that you could not write yourself in standard Pascal, nor extend or modify to suit your needs.

Ada’s text I/O facilities only took one argument at a time, which made writing the simplest I/O statement quite tedious relative to C or Pascal.

C’s printf statement had multiple arguments, but was neither type safe nor extensible, and the formatting string was horrid.

I also did not like pragmas, which I found too ad-hoc, with a verbose syntax. I saw pragmas as indicative that some kind of generic “language extension” facility was needed, although it took me a while to turn that idea into a reality.

From experimental to extensible

I soon realised that my efforts were mostly about being able to extend the language through its standard library and mechanisms such as pragmas. At some unspecified point in time, somewhere along the way, the meaning of LX changed from experimental language to extensible language. I liked the normalisation of Ada, but I wanted a way to leverage the base language to go beyond the basics in a controlled and specified way.

The development period for LX lasted between my training period at Alsys in 1990 and 1998, when I jointed the HP California Language Lab in Cupertino (CLL) to work on the C++ compiler and, I hoped, my own language. It did not all go as planned…

Step 2 (1998): XL, meet Xroma

One of the very first things I did moving to the US was to translate the language name to English. So LX turned into XL. This was a massive rename in my source code, but everything else remained the same.

Daveed Vandevoorde and meta-programming

As soon as I joined the CLL, I started talking about my language and the ideas within. One CLL engineer who immediately “got it” is Daveed Vandevoorde. Daveed immediately understood what I was doing, in large part because he was thinkering along the same lines. He pointed out that my approach had a name: meta-programming, i.e. programs that deal with programs. I was doing meta-programming without knowing about the word, and I felt really stupid at the time, feeling that everybody knew about that technique but me.

Daveed was very excited about my work, because he was himself working on his own pet language named Xroma (pronounced like Chroma). At the time, Xroma was, I believe, not as far along as XL, since Daveed had not really worked on a compiler. However, it had annotations similar to my pragmas (which I suspect are distant ancestors of C++11 attributes), and some kind of public representation for the abstract syntax tree as well.

Also, the Xroma name was quite Xool, along with all the puns we could build using a capital-X pronounced as “K” (Xolor, Xameleon, Xode, …) or not (Xform, Xelerate, …). As a side note, I later called “Xmogrification” the VM context switch in HPVM, probably in part as a residual effect of the Xroma naming conventions.

In any case, Daveed and I joined forces, that combined effort was named Xroma. I came up with the early version of the lightbulb logo, and Daveed did a nice 3D rendering of the same using the Persistence of Vision ray tracer.

Concept  programming

The discussions around our respective languages, including the meta-programming egg-face moment, led me to solidify the theoretical underpinning of what I was doing with XL. It actually did go somewhat beyond meta-programming, which was really only a technique being used, but not the end goal. I called my approach Concept Programming. I tried to explain what it is about in this presentation.

Concept programming is about how we transform concepts that reside in our brain into code that resides in the computer. That conversion is lossy, and concept programming explores various techniques to limit the losses. It introduces pseudo-metrics inspired by signal processing such as syntactic noise, semantic noise, bandwidth and signal/noise ratio. More importantly, Concept Programming has consistently guided what I am doing with XL.

From examples of concept programming to C++ concepts

As an aside, talking about concepts, I have reasons to suspect that C++ concepts might be the result of a mis-interpretation of several concept-programming e-mail discussions I had with a few C++ committee members around the year 2000. Maybe I’m wrong and it’s just a coincidence. Besides the emails I sent, there is some striking similarity.

Consider the following concept example from Wikipedia:

template <class T> concept bool EqualityComparable() { return requires(T a, T b) { {a == b} -> Boolean; // Boolean is the concept defining a type usable in boolean context {a != b} -> Boolean; }; }

To me, it looks very much like a C++ version of this example (called validated generics in XL), which I was using as an illustration of the outcomes of concept programming in practically any discussion of these topics back in 2000:

generic type ordered where A, B : ordered Test : boolean := A < B

As of this writing (December 2017), C++ concepts did not yet make it to the C++ standard. By contrast, a variant of the code above shows up on a web page that states “First published on February 17, 2000“. Whether reinvented independently or not, this specific idea, that I will keep calling validated generics, took about 20 years to make it to C++.

The one thing that makes me unhappy about C++ concepts is the name concepts. In Concept Programming, concepts reside in your head, never in the code. So calling something in the code “concept” is bound to make concept programming much harder to explain to developers who learned C++ concepts first.

A program database to rule them all

Daveed is still a prominent and innovative member of the C++ community today. Back in the CLL days, he was already quite influential, being for example the HP representative to the C++ Standard committee.

He quickly generated quite a bit of interest in the CLL about some kind of universal program database that would represent the program in such a way that various tools could work on it. We called such transformations thin tools. The database format was intended to work across languages, so it was designed to be able to represent a C++ parse tree or a Java parse tree in a very similar way. There was tremendous interest about this kind of technology at the time, and like many things, these ideas took years to materialise elsewhere.

Daveed and I gave several internal talks about our ideas, and I was happy to let him speak if only because my english accent at the time was much worse than his. That proved to be a mistake…

Switching to the off-side rule

Another major visual change that happened around that time was switching to the off-side rule, i.e. using indentation to mark the syntax. Python, which made this approach popular, was at the time a really young language (release 1.0 was in early 1994).

Alain Miniussi, who made a brief stint at the CLL, convinced me of giving up the Ada-style begin and end keywords. I was initially totally unconvinced, and reluctantly tried it on a fragment of the standard library. As soon as I tried it, however, the benefits immediately became apparent. It was totally consistent with the core idea of concept programming, namely that the code should look like your concepts. Enforcing indentation made sure that the code did look like what it meant.

It took some effort to convert existing code, but I’ve never looked back since then.

Daveed leaves HP and XL loses traction

Not very long after I joined the CLL, Daveed received one of these offers that you can’t refuse from the Edison Design Group, the company he’s still working for to this day. So he left HP. Before leaving, he asked me to keep the Xroma name for his own project, and together, we decided that I would rename my side as Mozart. I was disappointed, because I liked the name Xroma, but did not think too much of it.

However, it quickly became evident that after Daveed’s departure, XL had lost all traction in the CLL. The next talk I organised about it had maybe two people. Clearly, CLL engineers saw Xroma as being solely Daveed’s baby, with me just tagging along. It was obvious that everybody thought the project had died the day Daveed left HP.

Trying Apple, unsuccessfully

After a few months without any traction at HP, I started looking elsewhere. Through some chance event, I ended up pitching XL to Bertrand Serlet at Apple. I rarely met someone so smart. I remember being vastly impressed that the second or third question he asked was “How do you deal with introspection“. I did not know at the time how important introspection was in the Objective-C programming model. That question, coming from a higher-up at Apple, was totally unexpected. It convinced me that Apple knew what they were talking about.

In any case, Bertrand Serlet was convinced enough that I interviewed with the compiler team at Apple. Things went quite well, until someone asked “Are you sure you own this language?” I personally had absolutely no doubt about that, having invented that language long before even joining HP. However, the Apple engineer who had asked the question was quick to point out that if I had spoken about it to HP engineers, California Work for Hire agreements probably meant that HP had taken ownership of my work.

So the discussion with Apple stopped abruptly, and I returned to HP somewhat bummed. I still did a few things at the CLL, like porting the HP C++ compiler to Itanium or representing HP at the C++ committee for a couple of years. But I had no real love for C++, and I hit a career wall within the CLL. I finally left the C++ compiler team after only two years, and started HP Integrity Virtual Machines. But that is another story.

Step 3 (2000): Open-sourcing XL and Mozart

Before leaving the CLL, and following the Apple incident, I talked with various people at HP to make sure my intellectual property of XL was acknowledged.

It took quite a bit of time, but we reached an agreement as follows: XL and Mozart had to be made open-source, and published regularly so that HP could monitor whether they were interested in it. Also, because HP had a strong interest in Java at the time, they wanted to make sure that whatever I developed also worked for Java.

Moka, a Java to Java compiler

So I published Mozart and began working actively on it, making sure there was some prominent Java support in it. I also published an article in Dr Dobb’s, a popular developer journal.

But my heart was never with Java anymore than with C++, as evidenced by the much more extensive documentation about XL on the Mozart web site. As a language, Java had very little interest for me.

Key innovations in 2000-vintage XL

By that time, XL was already quite far away from the original Ada. Here are some of the key features that went quite a bit beyond Ada:

The syntax was quite clean, with very few unnecessary characters. There were no semi-colons at the end of statement, and parentheses were not necessary in function or procedure calls, for example. The off-side rule I talked about earlier allowed me to get rid of any begin or end keyword, without resorting to C-style curly braces to delimit blocks.

Pragmas extended the language by invoking arbitrary compiler plug-ins. As I already pointed out, I suspect that attributes in C++11 are distant (and less powerful) descendants of this kind of annotation, if only because their syntax matches my recollection of the annotation syntax in Xroma.

Expression reduction was a generalisation of operator overloading that works with expressions of any complexity. To this day, expression reduction still has no real equivalent in any other language that I know of, although expression templates can be used to achieve similar effect in a very convoluted way for expressions following the standard operator syntax in C++.

True generic types were a way to make generic programming much easier by declaring generic types that behaved like regular types. Validated generic types extended the idea by adding a validation to the type, and they also have no real equivalent in other languages that I am aware of, although C++ concepts bring a similar kind of validation to C++ templates.

Type-safe variable argument lists made it possible to write type-safe variadic functions. They solved the WriteLn problem I referred to earlier, i.e. they made it possible to write a function in a library that behaved exactly like the Pascal WriteLn. I see them as a distant ancestor of variadic templates in C++11, although like for concepts, it is hard to tell if variadic templates are a later reinvention of the idea, or if something of my e-mails influenced members of the C++ committee.

A powerful standard library was not quite there, but the key foundations were there, and it was mostly a matter of writing it. My implementation of complex numbers, for example, was 70% faster than C++ on simple examples, because it allowed everything to be in registers instead of memory.

There were a few things that I believe also date from that era, like getting rid of any trace of a main function, top-level statements being executed as in most scripting languages.

Limitations of the parse tree representation

One thing did not work well with Mozart, however, and it was the parse tree representation. That representation, called Notes, was quite complex. It was some kind of object-oriented representation with many classes. For example, there was a class for IfThenElse statements, a Declaration class, and so on.

This was quite complex, and made it extremely difficult to write thin tools, in particular thin tools that respected subtle semantic differences between languages. By 2003, I was really hitting a wall with XL development, and that was mostly because I was also trying to support the Java language which I did not like much.

One of the final nails in the Mozart coffin was a meeting with Alan Kay during an HP technical conference (he was an HP Fellow at the time). I tried to show him how my language was solving some of the issues he had talked about during his presentation. He did not even bother looking. He simply asked: “Does your language self-compile?“. When I answered that the compiler being written in C++, Alan Kay replied that he was not interested.

That gave me a desire to consider a true bootstrap of XL. That meant rewriting the compiler from scratch. But at that time, I had already decided that the internal parse tree representation needed to be changed. So that became my topic of interest.

Step 4 (2003): Bootstrapping XL2

The new implementation was called XL2, not as a version number, but because I was seeing things as a three-layer construction:

XL0 was just a very simple parse tree format with only eight node types.

XL1 was the core language, without any library.

XL2 was the full language, including its standard library.

This language is still available today, and while it’s not been maintained in quite a while, it seems to still pass most of its test suite. More importantly, the XL0 format has remained unchanged since then.

The XL0 parse tree format

The parse tree format is something that makes XL absolutely unique among high-level programming languages. It is designed so that code that can look and feel like an Ada derivative can be represented and manipulated in a very simple way, much like Lisp lists are used to represent programs.

The picture below shows an example of XL source code on the left, along with a graphical rendering of the internal representation on the right (click for details):

The parse tree format consists of only eight node types, four leaf node types (integer, real, text and symbol), four inner node types (infix, prefix, postfix and block). It is very vaguely documented here.

A few surprising properties of this parse tree format is that individual program lines are seen as the leaves of an infix “newline” operator. There are no keywords at all, the precedence of all operators being given dynamically by a syntax file.

Bootstrapping XL

The initial translator converts a simplified form of XL into C++ using a simplified form of transcoding. The simplified form of XL2 acceptable as input for this translation phase is only used in the bootstrap compiler. It already looks a bit like the final XL2, but error checking and syntax analysis are practically nonexistent.

The bootstrap compiler can then be used to translate the native XL compiler. The native compiler performs much more extended semantic checks, for example to deal with generics or to implement a true module system. It emits code using a byte-code that is converted to a variety of runtime languages. For example, the C bytecode file will generate a C program, turning the native compiler into a transcoder from XL to C.

That native compiler can translate itself, which leads to a true bootstrap where the actual compiler is written in XL, even if a C compiler is still used for the final machine code generation.

The XL2 compiler advanced to the point where it could pass a fairly large number of complex tests, including practically all the things that I wanted to address in Ada:

Pragmas implemented as compiler plug-ins.

Expression reduction generalising operator overloading.

An I/O library that was as usable as in Pascal, but written in the language and user-extensible.

A language powerful enough to define its own arrays or pointers, while keeping them exactly as usable as built-in types.

Compiler plugins

XL2 had full support for compiler plug-ins, in a way similar to what had been done with Mozart. However, plug-ins were much simpler to develop and maintain, since they had to deal with a very simple parse tree structure.

For example, the differentiation plugin implements symbolic differentiation for common functions. It is tested here. The generated code after applying the plugin would look like this. The plugin itself is quite simple. It simply applies basic mathematical rules on parse trees. For example, to perform symbolic differentiation on multiplications, the code looks like this:

function Differentiate (expr : PT.tree; dv : text) return PT.tree is translate expr when ('X' * 'Y') then dX : PT.tree := Differentiate(X, dv) dY : PT.tree := Differentiate(Y, dv) return parse_tree('dX' * 'Y' + 'X' * 'dY')

Meta-programming became almost entirely transparent here. The translate statement, itself provided by a compiler plug-in (see below), matches the input tree against a number of shapes. When the tree looks like X*Y, the code behind the matching then is evaluated. That code reconstructs a new parse tree using the parse_tree function.

Also notice the symmetric use of quotes in the when clause and in the parse_tree function, in both cases to represent variables as opposed to names in the parse tree. Writing parse_tree(X) generates a parse tree with the name X in it, whereas parse_tree('X') generates a parse tree from the X variable.

Translation extension

A particularly important compiler extension provided the translation and translate instructions. Both were used extensively to rewrite XL0 parse trees easily.

We saw above an example of translate, which translated a specific tree given as input. It simply acted as a way to compare a parse tree against a number of forms, evaluating the code corresponding to the first match.

The translation declaration was even more interesting, in that it was a non-local function declaration. All the translation X from all modules were accumulated in a single X function, several functions corresponding to distinct phases in the compiler. This made it possible to distribute translation XLDeclaration statements throughout the compiler, dealing with declaration of various entities, with matching translation XLSemantics for the later semantics analysis phase.

This approach made it quite easy to maintain the compiler over time. It also showed how concept programming addressed what is sometimes called aspect-oriented programming.

Step 5 (2009): Dynamic code generation

One issue I had with the original XL2 approach is that it was strictly a static compiler. The bytecode files made it possible to generate practically any language as output. I considered generating LLVM bitcode, but thought that it would be more interesting to use an XL0 input instead. One reason to do that was to be able to pass XL0 trees around in memory without having to re-parse them. Hence XLR, the XL runtime, was born.

XLR, the functional variant of XL

For various reasons, I wanted XLR to be dynamic, and I wanted it to be purely functional.  My motivations were:

a long-time interest in functional languages.

a desire to check that the XL0 representation could also comfortably represent a functional languages, as a proof of how general XL0 was.

an intuition that sophisticated type inference, Haskell-style, could make programs both shorter and more solid than the declarative type systems of Ada.

While exploring functional languages, I came across Pure, and that was the second big inspiration for XL. Pure prompted me to use LLVM as a final code generator, and to keep XLR extremely simple.

Translating using tree rewrites

As a matter of fact, I sometimes describe XLR as a language with a single operator, ->, which reads as transforms into. Thus, X->0 declares a variable X. This notation can be used to declare basic operators:

x:integer - y:integer as integer -> opcode Sub

It makes a declaration of writeln even shorter than it was before:

write x:text as boolean -> C elfe_write_text write x:integer as boolean -> C elfe_write_integer write x:real as boolean -> C elfe_write_real write x:character as boolean -> C elfe_write_character writeln as boolean -> C elfe_write_cr

More interestingly, even if-then-else can be described that way:

if true then TrueBody else FalseBody -> TrueBody if false then TrueBody else FalseBody -> FalseBody if true then TrueBody -> TrueBody if false then TrueBody -> false

Similarly for basic loops, provided your translation mechanism implements tail recursion properly:

while Condition loop Body -> if Condition then Body while Condition loop Body until Condition loop Body -> while not Condition loop Body loop Body -> Body; loop Body for Var in Low..High loop Body -> Var := Low while Var < High loop Body Var := Var + 1

Note that the fact that such structures can be implemented in the library does not mean that they have to. It is simply a proof that basic amenities can be constructed that way, and to provide a reference definition of the expected behaviour.

Step 6 (2010): Tao3D

When I decided to leave HP, I thought that XLR was flexible enough to be used as a dynamic document language. I quickly whipped together a prototype using XLR to drive an OpenGL 3D rendering engine. That proved quite interesting.

Over time, that prototype morphed into Tao3D. As far as the XLR language itself is concerned, there wasn’t as much evolution as previously. A few significant changes related to usability popped up after actively using the language. For example, implicit conversions of integer to real were not in the original XLR, but it was quite annoying in practice when providing object coordinates.

Tao3D developed a relatively large set of specialised modules, dealing with things such as stereoscopy or lens flares. As a product, however, it was never very successful, and Taodyne shut down in 2015.

Step 7 (2015): ELFE

ELFE is another application of XL’s extensibility to another application domain, namely distributed software. The idea was to take advantage of the existence of the XL0 standard parse tree to communicate programs and data across machines.

An ELFE program looks as as if it was running on a single machine, but actively exchanges program segments and their associated data between distant nodes. ELFE only adds a very small number of features to the standard XL:

The ask statement sends a program, and returns the result of evaluating that program as if it has been evaluated locally. It works like a remote function call.

An invoke statement sends a program to a remote node. It’s a “fire and forget” operation, but leaves a reply channel open while it’s executing.

Finally, the reply statement allows a remote node to respond to whoever invoke‘d it, by evaluating one of the available functions in the caller’s context.

A few very simple ELFE demos illustrate these remote-control capabilities. For example, it’s easy to monitor temperature on two remote sensor nodes, and to ask them to report if their temperatures differ by more than some specified amount.

ELFE was designed to run with a small memory footprint, so it provides a complete interpreter that does not require any LLVM. On the other hand, the LLVM support in that “branch” of the XL family tree fell into a bad state of disrepair.

And today?

These days, I find myself with several subtly distinct variants of XL which all share the same XL0, but have very different run-time constraints.

Languages using the XL0 parse tree format

Languages currently using the same XL0 parse tree format include;

Tao3D has the most advanced library, and a lot of code written for it. But that code often depends on undesirable behaviours in the language, such as implicit by reference argument passing.

ELFE has the most advanced type system of all variants, being able to perform overloading based on the shape of parse trees, and having a rather complete set of control structures implemented in the library. It also has an interesting modular structure, and a rather full-featured interpreter.

XLR fell behind with respect to LLVM support, LLVM not being particularly careful about release-to-release source compatibility. On the other hand, it had the most advanced type inference system, which allowed it to get performance that was close to C for simple cases.

XL2 has been left aside for a few years, but is still all but obsolete. It would need a bit of love to make progress with the standard library and actually connect the XLR back-end as initially envisioned.

Re-converging?

Overall, the effort today is to re-converge these various branches and to catch-up with LLVM. The ideal converged solution would have:

The modular structure, interpreter, remote control capabilities and type system developed for ELFE.

The real-time graphic capabilities of Tao3D, probably offered as an ELFE-style module

A finished Haskell-style type inference system

An XL2 front-end for those who prefer an imperative programming style

Future ideas

In addition, I have been toying with a few ideas for a while:

Using is instead of -> as the as the one-and-only rewrite operator. I believe that for most programmers, X is 0 is immediately understandable, whereas the current X->0 requires an explanation.

Replacing the block node type with an sequence or array node type.

Currently, blocks without a content, such as ( ) or { }, have a blank name inside, which I find ugly. It would make more sense to consider them as arrays with zero length.

Furthermore, blocks are often used to hold sequences, for example sequences of instructions. It would be easier to deal with a block containing a sequence of instructions than with the current block containing an instruction or a chain of infix nodes.

Bootstrapping an XLR compiler or interpreter, to validate that the XLR-level language is good enough for a compiler.

Conclusion

This article was way too long.

    From Ada to XL in 25+ years… In the Paris Open Source Summit, I had a long discussion with engineers from AdaCore, that reminded me of the early roots of…

[fivekrystalpetals]

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