#she's like some sort of an oracle in the future. which is clouded over with eternal darkness bc mephiles

[angstandhappiness]

AWWW AMY CRUSHING ON SONIC IS SO CUTE

hi guys i still remember the swap au exists. heroes comic isn’t going anywhere but take a look at amy. also an idea for iblis the light, and also, a bit of sonic.

[365days365movies]

March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (1981) (Part One)

This one’s personal…sort of.

Other than the fact that this is based on Greek mythology (previously well-established as one of my favorite subjects), this movie is, in a way, responsible for my existence. And that is because, according to legend, this is the film that my parents went to on their first date. And apparently, it went very well, because I came into being 10 years afterwards. So, yeah, this film is personal, like Dirty Dancing.

And also like Dirty Dancing, I HAVEN’T SEEN IT? I don’t know HOW I escaped seeing this movie. And that’s especially considering that I’ve seen the new one. And that movie was...not great.

Maybe not the worst film I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely not a good movie. But OK, what’s this one about, exactly? Y’all ready for “The 365 Greek Mythology Hour” again? OK, then, here we go. SING IT LADIES

Clash of the Titans concerns the myth of Perseus, one of the greatest Greek heroes ever. Before Heracles, there was Perseus, son of Zeus. Yeah, Zeus, as he is wont to do, came down to Earth and had some good time with the princess of Argos, the beautiful Danaë. He came upon her while she was locked in a box by her dad, Acrisus, king of Argos.

Yeah, the Oracle at Delphi, ever the wisest, was visited by Acrisus one day, who wanted a son instead of a daughter. The Oracle spoke with Apollo (AKA huffed some of that SWEET SWEET ETHYLENE GAS), and told him that his daughter’s son would kill him. And so, he did the most logical thing: he locked her in a box. Yup. Dick. SPEAKING of dick, Zeus appeared to her in the open box as a golden shower. NOT THAT KIND OF GOLDEN SHOWER. I mean a literal shower of gold. Although...I wouldn’t put it past Zeus, of all gods. Dude was kinky.

So, Perseus is conceived, and Acrisus responds to this with his usual tact; he stuffs Danaë into a SMALLER box, and shoves it out to sea. She gives birth to a boy in the box, and the two eventually wash up on the shore of an island, where a fisherman finds them and takes them in. The boy is named Perseus.

Years go by, and Perseus’ mom is sought by his adoptive dad’s brother, and the king of the island, Polydectes. Polydectes is kind of a dick, and Perseus, now an adult man, doesn’t like him. The feeling’s mutual, and Polydectes has a plan. He holds a banquet, and forces all invited to bring a gift of horses. Perseus, being pretty poor, cannot bring this gift, but promises on his honor to bring whatever Polydectes wants of him, no matter what. And Polydectes asks for the head of Medusa.

Fuck.

Medusa’s one of your classic Greek monsters, a Gorgon. She’s one of Athena’s victims, formerly a vain temple priestess who was, well...raped by Poseidon, let’s be honest. However, since Athena’s priestesses were meant to be celibate, she was the one who ended up being punished. Fuckin’ YIKES. But OK, literal ancient gender politics aside, Athena cursed her with snakes for hair, and the ability to turn her victims into stone with a gaze into her eyes. Classic. And sure death for anyone who went after her.

So, Perseus is fucked. He’s gotta kill Medusa, and he doesn’t even have a way to get to her place. And that’s when he gets a favor from none other than Athena, goddess of wisdom and wartime strategy, as well as Perseus’ half-sister. I love Athena (other than the Medusa bullshit, obviously), and this is one of her most prominent roles in mythology. Well, that and the creation of spiders. That was also punishing a woman for her vanity, by the way. She has a type.

First, Perseus was told to find the Hesperides, nymphs of the dusk and dawn who would give him weapons. He got their location from the Greae, more colloquially known as the Gray Sisters. Weirdly enough, you may know them from Hercules, where they were combined with the Fates. They don’t have the future gimmick, but they do have that whole “sharing an eye” thing. Also, they share a tooth. Neat.

Anyway, Perseus takes their eye hostage, which makes them tell him where the Hesperides are. He goes to them, and they give him a bag to hold Meduga’s head. Then, the gods step in. Zeus decides to be a good dad for a change, and gives him an indestructible sword, and Hades’ Helmet of Invisibility. Hermes, another of Perseus’ half-brothers, gives him a pair of winged sandals to fly with. And Athena, technically Perseus’ patron, gives him a mirrored shield.

Perseus heads to the cave of Medusa, uses the shield, then goes up to her and cuts off her head. From her neck, for some goddamn reason, and golden sword pops out, alongside this guy.

Yeah, he’s not made out of clouds. He’s actually the, uh...he’s the result of Poseidon’s crime against Medusa. Fucked up, innit? Pegasus flies up to hang out with Bellerophon to kill the Chimera, and Perseus heads back to...actually, he goes to ANOTHER king who was a dick to him, and turns him into stone with Medusa’s head. Kings hate Perseus, seriously.

Perseus heads home after that, and goes through Ethiopia. There, he meets the King and Queen, Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassie’s gorgeous, but she tells Perseus that her daughter Andromeda is, like, WAY hotter, as beautiful as the sea goddesses. Which PISSES OFF POSEIDON (who is basically the villain of Perseus’ story, let’s be honest), and he send a sea monster named Cetus to destroy the kingdom, UNLESS they sacrifice Andromeda to it. And, because kings are assholes in this story, they do, chaining Andromeda to a rock. But, because Perseus believes that all women are queens, he goes to rescue her, and kills Cetus using all of his things. He weds Andromeda, and turns his romantic rival Phineus into stone using Medusa’s head.

Usually, that’s where retellings end, because there’s a recurring trend to Perseus’ story after that. A king is an asshole, Perseus whips out the head, asshole becomes statue of an asshole. However, there is that prophecy to contend with, about Perseus killing his grandfather. See, Acrisus basically retired by this point, and lived in the kingdom of Thessaly. But one day, he went to see some games, in which Perseus was competing in the discus. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Perseus isn’t great at it, and loses control of the discus, which hits Acrisus, killing him instantly.

Utimate frisbee, man. It’s dangerous.

There’s another version where Perseus uses Medusa’s head to turn his dad into stone, surprise surfuckingprise there. But yeah, after that the story varies. Sometimes he becomes a king, sometimes he doesn’t. He basically always marries Andromeda and has kids with her. Sometimes he founds a city of his own, sometime he doesn’t. And in one ending, where he’s lived to be an old king, he fulfills his ultimate destiny and turns Medusa’s head on himself. Geez.

So, yeah, there you go. That’s the story of Perseus. Let’s, uh...let’s see what the movie does, huh? This is another Ray Harryhausen joint, so I’m...tentatively excited for it. We’ll see how badly they mess up the myth, and whether or not it works despite that. So, ENOUGH of me lecturing you guys, huh?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin approximately where most iterations do: King Acrisius (Donald Houston) has just cast his daughter Danae (Vida Taylor) and grandson Perseus into the ocean, containing them within a wooden chest in order to “forgive his daughter’s crimes”. Yeah, sure, OK, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

This also pisses off Zeus (Laurence Mother Fucking Olivier), who consorts with the rest of the Olympians on what to do to Acrisus. Said Olympians include Hera (Claire Bloom), goddess of marriage and women; Thetis (Maggie Mother Fucking Smith), goddess of the sea and leader of the Nereids; Athena (Susan Fleetwood), goddess of wisdom and strategic victory; Aphrodite (Ursula Andress), goddess of love; and Poseidon (Jack Gwillim), god of the sea.

Hera tries to defend Acrisus, noting his prior years of devotion to Zeus and the other gods. But Zeus ain’t HAVING that shit, and tells Poseidon to destroy the city of Argos in revenge. This is to be done by...releasing the last of the Titans? Which is apparently the Kraken. I mean...no, a thousand times no, but whatever.

This little tantrum is Zeus’ way of showing his love towards Danae, whose child Perseus is his. This is helpfully pointed out by Thetis, who seems...a little spiteful, as much as Hera is about Perseus. Seems like she’s stoking some fires. Hmm. She is Queen of the Nerieds, so she may play a larger role later on.

Beneath the sea, Poseidon readies himself to set loose the Kraken and destroy Argos, at Zeus’ command. Zeus, meanwhile, kills Acrisus by using a clay voodoo doll of sorts to strike him down. And that’s when Poseidon lets loose the Kraken for the first time. And the Kraken...

Guys, the Kraken looks...actually, I’ll spoil his appearance later on. The Kraken destroys the city, and Zeus kills Acrisius. So much for the goddamn prophecy that explains why Acrisius did what he did, but fuck me, I guess. Danae and Perseus, meanwhile, have safely arrived on the shores of the island of Seriphus, at Zeus’ insistence. There, Perseus grows from child into a fine young man, with Zeus always watching over him...and with Thetis and company always watching over Zeus. Interesting.

The adult Perseus (Harry Hamlin) lives happily on the island, much to Perseus’ delight. Thetis, on the other hand, asks about her mortal son, a young man named Calibos (Neil McCarthy). Apparently, Calibos is a bit of a monster, and while he’d been set to wed the princess Andromeda, he’s also managed to kil all living things on the island that he’s been given, save for a single winged horse named Pegasus. Hence...he is to be punished.

Calibos, by the way? Entirely original creation of the film, and there’s nobody like him in Greek mythology. Anyway, Thetis is crushed by this, and decides to exact revenge of both Perseus and her son’s would-be fiancee, Andromeda. She pledges to open up Perseus’ eyes to grim reality, and does so by placing him in the kingdom of Joppa, where Calibos was originally set to rule alongside Andromeda.

Here, in an amphitheatre, he encounters a mysterious masked and robed figure, who quickly reveals themselves to be Ammon (Burgess Meredith), a poet and playwright. Apparently, Ammon wears his disguise to scare off trespassers. He tells Perseus that all of Joppa is in a tizzy about a curse of some kind, and that the story of the fallen kingdom of Argos is a famous legend.

Ammon tells Perseus to go back home to Seriphus, but Perseus tells Ammon that he’s promised to restore his mother’s old kingdom, and decides that Joppa would be a good start. Despite his drive, though, Zeus is pissed off at Thetis for plopping Perseus down unprepared. He tells the other goddesses to give him gifts to help him claim the kingdom of Joppa as his own. This includes a helmet from Athena, a sword from Aphrodite, and a shield from Hera. I mean...OK, that’s super goddamn weird, but OK.

After Zeus leaves, the goddesses rightfully complain about Zeus’ constant womanizing, but note that he probably doesn’t remember Danae at this point, is is most likely acting out of stubborn pride for his “handsome son”. Their words, not mine.

In Joppa, Perseus finds the gifts by the statues of their grantors. The sword from Aphrodite is adamantine, like the original myth, and slices through marble without a blemish. The shield from Hera...talks. Yeah. The shield bears the visage of Zeus, who tells him that the weapons are gifts from the gods, and that the helmet from Athena turns the wearer invisible. I mean, fuck Hades, I guess, but OK. Technically Athena did give the helmet to Perseus, so OK.

Armed with his new gear, an invisible Perseus immediately takes off to see Joppa, sans his sword. We only see his footsteps in the sand as he leaves, which is legitimately a VERY neat effect, and I’m not sure how they did it, but it’s neat as hell. Off to Joppa, a vaguely Phoenician/Persian kingdom, despite the fact that the original Joppa, or Jaffa, is a port city in Israel.

There, he meets a soldier, Thallo (Tim Pigott-Smith), who tells him of the situation. Since Calibos fell to Zeus’ wrath, Andromeda rejected him, allowing any suitor to try for her hand, whether they be royal or not. To do so, they must answer a riddle. If they fail to answer, the would-be suitor is burned to death. This is lorded over by Queen Cassiopeia (Sian Phillips), while Andromeda (Judi Bowker) lives in the tower of the palace.

Which is why Perseus IMEDIATELY uses the helmet to go into her room that night! CLASSY, PERSEUS. There, he sees...a giant vulture bring a cage to Andromeda’s balcony. No idea where in the fuck this is going, but that’s a damn good looking vulture. God, I love Harryhausen.

Anyway, the vulture is here for Andromeda’s soul, which leaves her body and goes to sit in the cage. The vulture takes off with it, al as the invisible Perseus watches on. He takes this opportunity to touch Andromeda’s face in her sleep (stop, Perseus, for the love of Zeus), then decides that winning Andromeda is his destiny. And so, his simpin’ journey begins.

The next day, Perseus asks Ammon how they can follow the vulture, who has apparently headed to the marshes to the “marsh lord”. To follow the vulture, Ammon suggests that they find and capture the last of the winged horses, known as Pegasus. And we’ve officially lost the track of Greek mythology at this point. Shit.

Well, with Ammon’s help, Perseus captures Pegasus and rides him through the skies. Meanwhile, in Corinth, some dude named Bellerophon is just having a stroke, I guess, because he’s totally fucked now. Whatever. The next day, the vulture comes back to Andromeda’s place and takes her soul to the marsh. But this time, Perseus and Pegasus follow them.

In the marsh, the marsh-lord and riddle-maker is revealed as Calibos, who is still in love with the beautiful Andromeda. As she cannot love him, he provides to her another riddle to give her would-be suitors. In tears, she memorizes the riddle and its answer, Calibos touches her uncomfortably, even as Andromeda asks him to lift his curse and show pity. But he refuses, in pain from his love. Jesus, this movie should be called Clash of the Simps, goddamn.

Perseus was watching the whole thing, though, which Calibos immediately figures out when he sees Perseus’ footsteps in the dirt. As Perseus goes through the swamp looking for Pegasus, he’s found and attacked by Calibos. Calibos, by the way, is a guy in pretty solid makeup in close-up shots, and a Harryhausen model in far-away shots.

The two struggle, the helmet is lost in the swamp, and Perseus draws his sword. But we suddenly cut away to see the daily ritual of the presentation for Andromeda’s would-be suitors. Perseus steps in, having survived the attack from last night, and offers his hand to Andromeda, who recognizes Perseus from a dream. She gives the riddle, which is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT. Here, I’ll prove it.

In my mind’s eye, I see three circles joined in priceless harmony. Two, full as the moon; one, hollow as a crown. Two from the sea, five fathoms down. One from the Earth, deep under the ground. What is it?

Any guesses? Anybody?

NO MATTER WHAT YOU FAIL. Because the answer is Calibos’ ring! HOW IN THE SHIT WOULD ANYBODY HAVE GUESSED THAT? It’s a golden ring with two pearls on it! WHO KNOWS THAT SHIT? I call complete bullshit, and the only reason that Perseus knows it is because he spied on this last night! Also, because he cut off Calibos’ hand, and made him renounce his curse, which is...never really specified, now that I think about it.

With that, Perseus has both Andromeda’s and Calibos’ hands! HA! Calibos is not as amused, as he preys to his other Thetis, at a temple of hers. He demands that Thetis take revenge on those whom Perseus loves, specifically Andromeda and the city of Joppa itself. He demands justice, but Thetis identifies this correctly as revenge. All the while, Perseus declares his love for Andromeda, and they seal their union with a kiss and ritual.

During this ritual, in which Andromeda and Perseus are essentially married, Queen Cassiopeia, LIKE A DUMBASS, says that Andromeda is more beautiful than the goddess Thetis herself. Yeah. BAD FUCKING MOVE, especially because she said that IN FRONT OF THETIS’ FUCKING SANCTUARY. At least that dumbass move was kept from the original story.

Well, Thetis tells Cassie that she can only atone for her stupidity in one way: sacrifice your daughter to the Kraken in 30 days. Later on, Perseus speaks with Ammon to figure out how they can defeat the Kraken. Ammon suggests speaking with the “Stygian Witches”, who I’m assuming are our Grey Sisters for the night. However, according to Thallo, they have a taste for human flesh. Still, Perseus is going, as are Ammon, Thallo, and Andromeda. But not Pegasus.

Well...shit, man. That changes a few things, huh? But that’ll be addressed...IN PART TWO! See you there!

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: The Hunting Party (2)

ATTD Masterlist

I agonized over this for ages bc everybody knows prophecies rhyme, but i am deeply Not A Poet, so like... be gentle with me lmao

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

Ongoing TW for this series: the Big Bads here are bug related, so tread carefully if you you have any level of entomophobia. It’s mainly referenced here, but it will absolutely get worse. If you have specific bug-related triggers, you can always message me for a more detailed description of what to expect. So.

TW for: body horror (relating to mummification, and, separately, Bugs); blood-drinking; referenced/implied possession (of a sort); captivity; implied magical torture; lady whump; referenced murder. Also, uh... evil flies. Like not giant. Just evil

----

Awake, at least, Middle Sister had seen nothing but this room for three long months.

The room was of a respectable size—high-ceilinged, not wide but long enough to be properly called a Hall—but far enough underground that the air felt close and stale regardless. The walls and ceiling are polished marble, black with veins the color of old bone. The furnishings—richly carved but sparse—were the same. An altar, bare. Two benches, never occupied. A high-backed throne for her to sit upon, slumped and unmoving.

Middle Sister did not know how long this room had been here. The past was her Sister’s business; for all that Middle Sister know, they might have carved the chamber just for her. Her mark, upon the throne—a sun, inlaid in gold, above her head—would seem to show that it at least had been custom-made.

The chains, hammered into the arms of the throne, and ending in manacles around her wrists, were the same muted gold as the inlaid sun. She was held immobile by other, crueler means—could not move without blood in her veins; the gold cuffs hung loose on her dry and leathered wrists—so the chains were just for show.

She was going to kill everyone responsible—from her captors to whatever craftsmen carved the sun and forged the chains—but she could, at least, respect the commitment to aesthetics.

To keep an Oracle in one’s basement, one needed chains. To leave her without them—even as a dried out husk upon her throne—would be positively gauche. Someone might think they’d left her corpse here by mistake.

The old man—the Emperor’s Advisor—who had no other name than that, and who always brought with him the buzzing of flies, right at the edge of her hearing—was the only living thing she had seen in months.

He was halfway through his usual ritual now. He brought a candle and a golden chalice with him from upstairs, and now he was holding the chalice over the candle and half-chanting in his scratchy buzzing voice, a stream of nonsense about the sun, how it knew all and saw all, and now he wished to know and see all as well.

The ritual was exactly as practical as the gilded chains. The chalice was full of blood, and blood was all she needed.

The old man finished chanting, and stepped around the altar, approached the throne. He put the chalice up to her desiccated lips and carefully poured about a tablespoon of blood down her dry throat.

Middle Sister breathed in, as even this tiny helping of lifeblood wet her tongue and throat and lungs enough to take in the first air she’d had since the old man’s last visit, more than a week ago now. The blood soaked into her heart and filled it out, like a raisin turning back into a grape. The first few beats were always painful.

Part of Middle Sister always hoped that he would measure wrong—bring her two tablespoons someday, instead of one. This blood is enough to bring life back into her mouth and tongue and lungs and throat and heart. Another gulp would bring life back into her arms, enough to tie these stupid soft-gold chains into a pretty bow around the old man’s neck, and drag herself upstairs, to find enough blood to fill her wings with life as well, and away from here, at last.

It wouldn’t be that easy, of course. She was going to have to wait. Sit here like so much salt-dried meat, until she’d gathered enough cards to make a meaningful play.

Then, when she was out, she’d spill enough blood to bathe in.

“I hesitate to wake you so soon after the last time,” the old man was saying, with a hint of irony. “However: It seems we’ve had a bit of a setback.”

With a tablespoon of blood, Middle Sister could lift her head, and raise and eyebrow at the old man, too, with a little effort. Her dried skin wrinkled with a sound like old paper, but thankfully it didn’t tear.

Oh, she said, her voice made more of magic than of air. We have, have we?

The old man smirked, and bowed his head. “Your meaning is well taken,” she said. “The miscalculation was not yours, my Lady. We attempted to act on the information you so generously provided—”

Middle Sister snorted. She had been accused of many things, but rarely generosity. Is that what we’re calling it, she asked airily—her voice dry wind against the old man’s ears—I provide you—generously—with prophecy, and you—generously again—replace enough of the blood you stole, to let me move my lips?

The old man almost laughed. “Again, Lady: Your criticism is understood. I apologize once more for the lack of—creature comforts.”

She didn’t waste energy on rolling her eyes, however much she might have liked to. It’s true that I am accustomed to indulging in pleasure such as blood, and life. She sighed, tipping her head back to see him better. What is this setback ‘we’ have suffered, My Lord Advisor?

“We’ve lost the boy,” the old man said.

Middle Sister blinked at him. Then she half-crumpled forward, using up most of her borrowed blood in painful, dry-heaving laughter.

Lost the—you lost him? You found the boy from Future’s Rhyme and then you lost him?

The old man watched her laugh with bland amusement. Middle Sister collapsed back against the throne, wheezing, already half a corpse again.

Oh, my lord Advisor, she croaked, almost with affection. Your masters mustn’t be very pleased with you, eh?

The old man’s mouth twitched slightly. “They are not thrilled,” he allowed. He did not sound especially distressed.

He was a funny old riddle, the Emperor’s Advisor. There were flies in his head, certainly. But they seemed to have left behind an unusual amount of brain.

The old man bowed his fly-ridden head, with his wrinkled hand over his heart. “Thus, I am instructed to ask you for further direction, my Lady. Any further words from you would be a blessing.”

I’ve none to give you, Middle Sister said, with real pleasure. And I am hardly in a position to be offering blessings, my dear, she added. She was fading fast now, but there was just enough blood left in her dried-up veins for another pointed arch of her brow.

Advisor squinted at her. Clearly he was thinking hard, and—though maybe this was wishful thinking on Middle Sister’s part—he seemed to be looking with own old man’s eyes, and not with the faceted compound ones hidden behind their sockets.

“Perhaps,” the old man said delicately, “in return for further prophecy. I can persuade my masters to come up with some sort of reward.”

And then he gathered up the chalice—empty, now, of blood—and gave her a sly little smile.

The offer was clear enough.

I’ll see what I can do, my dear, Middle Sister told him, and that was all she had the blood to say.

For now.

----

The dream, when it comes again, goes like this:

There is a hall, with carved alabaster columns and tile the color of the sky, or the Wolf-Killer’s eyes, beautiful—but blown open at the sides, to reveal a sky that is not blue, but is a roiling bloody red as though the clouds themselves were cut open and bleeding to death in the dust.

In the center of the hall there is a tree, and the tree grew from a seed, and the seed was born in blood.

Will be born in blood.

The problem with riding Little Sister’s dreams is that it is hard to keep track of one’s tense.

The other problem with Little Sister’s dreams is that they are starting to repeat, which Middle Sister has never known them to do before—

In spite of herself, she thinks of Little Sister, watching this, over and over—how Little Sister always hurt, how it always hurt Little Sister to dream.

(Middle Sister breathes out, in her sleep, relieved: last time, Little Sister was wild with fright, the dream patchy and confused, as Little Sister snatched fitful minutes of sleep; Little Sister was always frightened of small spaces, and the cage was much too small, twisted her wings in around her little body; now she is sleeping out under the air, and her wings are sore but whole, and at least one of them is free.)

Focus, now, Middle Sister tells herself.

In the center of the hall there is a tree, except that now it is not a tree, it is a door, and the door is shut, but—

(a flutter of fear in Middle Sister’s dry and bloodless chest)

She is not sure the door is locked.

Behind her she hears the fluttering of enormous wings and whirls toward the sound, jealousy sour in her belly; she wants to fly again so badly—

Black birds scatter everywhere; although she is not really there she imagines they kick up quite a breeze.

She watches them go, and thinks that as omens go, this is not traditionally a good one. Last time she rode piggyback on Little Sister’s dreams, when she squinted to see past Little Sisters real-life-present fear, it was almost the same—the hall and the tree and the door—but instead of crows she had heard the howling of wolves, about a thousand great grey monsters with sharp teeth and sharper eyes, and ugh, why can’t Little Sister’s dreams just say what they mean.

As she is thinking this she hears, behind her��the clearing of a throat, simple and quiet. She turns on her nonexistent heel to follow the sound.

There is a girl standing in front of the door-that-is-closed-but-is-not-locked. She has long black hair, covering blunt human ears, and—behind the hair she does not have a face.

The words, when she speaks, are the same as last time, but last time Little Sister was too frightened to properly see the speaker. And Middle Sister can see nothing Little Sister doesn’t see.

The black-haired girl speaks solemnly, although she has no mouth. Her voice is full of—sympathy, perhaps. Middle Sister isn’t sure who for.

She says it again—the same rhyme—which seems to so excite Advisor, or at least the bugs that live inside his skull. It doesn’t mean much to Middle Sister, but she listens carefully.

She wants to know what the words mean, properly, before she gives them up.

----

Fatherless brother

Where did you go?

Does your mother miss you?

Does your sister know?

Little boy lost,

Little boy lying,

Little boy scared,

Little boy hiding.

Little boy hurt,

Little boy crying,

Little boy cold,

Little boy dying.

In two worlds a brother,

In one world a son:

You’ve opened the door, boy.

How fast can you run?

[camillemontespan]

finding athenais [m!kayden x mc] [part four: stars]

Part Three if you want to catch up

Warnings: Tiny bit of NSFW. Murder (let’s not beat around the bush here).

Not that long a chapter, but I hope you still enjoy!

@jovialyouthmusic​​​ @ibldw-main​​​ @burnsoslow​​​ @dcbbw​​​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​​​ @moonlightgem7​​​ @pug-bitch​​​  @saivilo​​​ @gardeningourmet​​​ @mskaneko​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​ @dailydoseofchoices​​​ @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld​​ @msjr0119​​ @chaotichuman0090​​ @jamesashtonisbae​​​ @krishu213​​​ @katedrakeohd​​​  @emichelle​​​ @emceesynonymroll​​​ @stopforamoment​​​ @notoriouscs​​​ @rainbowsinthestorm​

************************************************************************************

Kayden tried to get comfortable on the thick tree branch but thoughts kept swirling around his mind that kept him from falling asleep.

Thoughts about Athenais, Enzo and their unborn child.

They had to be safe. Kayden wouldn't be able to live with himself if they weren't. For so many years, Kayden had tried to keep his family safe and now here they were, vanished, the very definition - to Kayden - of unsafe.

He hoped Athenais and the baby were keeping strong. They had hoped for this second child for so, so long. All they wanted was to raise a family and provide a sibling for their son, a partner for him, a team mate.

Kayden thought back to the time he and Athenais visited the oracle. Cordonia believed in things like oracles and magic and they placed great importance on the stars and destiny.

Kayden had never been one to believe in that sort of thing. He was too cynical. But after what the oracle had told them, and now that Kayden was alone, he truly believed that only a sickening twist of fate could have caused him to be separated from his family.

Kayden looked up at the stars above him now, a shining blanket that cloaked the world, silver lights amongst velvet black.

He hoped Athenais was looking up at these stars too and thinking of him.

********************************************

Athenais and Kayden sat in front of the woman who called herself the greatest Oracle in Cordonia. They were in a dark room with hardly any light, save for a candle the oracle had lit - Kayden assumed this was to add atmosphere.

The Oracle studied them.

'You've been married for a year,' she pronounced.

Athenais squeezed Kayden's hand gently. Kayden ran his calloused thumb over her palm.

'I see great things in your future together,' The Oracle said. 'Love, passion, fortune. I see happiness. Children -'

'Children?' Athenais grasped onto this vital information.

The Oracle smiled. 'A boy and girl.'

Athenais turned to Kayden with wide eyes and a smile on her face. 'Oh Kayden! We're going to be parents!'

Kayden chuckled and shook his head. He wasn't going to say anything. He didn't want to burst her bubble and bring her back down to earth.

The Oracle raised a hand, silencing Athenais. 'There will be hardship ahead,' she advised them gravely, 'but if you keep strong and trust in the stars, you will get through it.'

Athenais frowned and looked like she was about to speak but Kayden stood up, breaking the spell. 'Alright, let's go,' he said, taking her hand. He didn’t want to listen to anymore of this. It was ridiculous. 

'But Kayden, she said there will be hardship -'

'And that's life,' Kayden interrupted briskly. 'Life is full of hardships, Athenais. What matters is how we deal with it.'

He led her out of the oracle's door and back into the daylight.

**********************************************

Athenais was quiet when they returned home. Kayden knew he had been too short with her but she had to realise that you made your own fate. You shouldn't rely on some non-existent higher power to guide you.

He poured her a glass of wine and she took it silently, not looking at him. Kayden sat down and stared at her, deliberately keeping eye contact on her. 'Athenais..'

Athenais looked at him now. 'Yes?' she muttered.

Kayden sighed. 'I've upset you.'

Athenais raised her chin defiantly and sipped her wine. 'Not at all,' she replied. 'But when an oracle says we will endure hardship, forgive me for wanting to find out exactly what that hardship is.'

Kayden reached out to take her hand. 'Athenais, look at me,' he murmured.

His wife focused her gaze on him, her eyes challenging him.

'The reason why I don't listen to these sorts of things,' he told her steadily, 'is because if we were to suffer hardship, trust me when I say I will protect you from it. I will endeavour to keep you safe and happy, you know this. I won't let hardship knock on our door.'

Athenais bit her lip. 'How can you be so certain? Isn’t that not.. naive?’ 

Kayden shrugged. ‘Probably. But I have to trust that I will always look after you. I won’t let harm come to you or any hardship that will break you. I refuse to believe in something that may not happen - and if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be fate. All I can do is keep you safe.’

Athenais nodded and gave him a watery smile. Kayden gently pulled her towards him, his eyes warm. 'That said...' he whispered, 'she did mention children. I do enjoy trying..'

Athenais finally laughed, a surprised laugh, and let Kayden pull her upstairs to their bedroom.

********************************************

That night, Kayden worshipped his wife.

He kissed every inch of her skin, his lips warm against her, as he roamed her body like it was a well traveled journey that only he knew the route to.

His hands clasped hers, squeezing gently, never letting go.

His tongue cast magic spells, a secret language that only they understood.

He worked hard to make her feel loved and fulfilled. With every kiss and touch, he made her feel whole.

If they were making a baby, it would be because Kayden and Athenais wanted to. Not because of destiny or fate or the stars. 

**********************************************

I wake up, yet again, with a painful head and bleary vision. Rubbing my eyes, I look around, my first thought being my son.

Enzo is curled up beside me sleeping,his hand gripping mine as if he's too terrified, even in sleep, to let me go.

My heart wrenches for him. All I want is for him to be safe and he. He is my baby boy and always will be, regardless of how old he is.

I gasp in horror when I see he has a bruise on his cheek. Clearly, our disguised driver has laid a hand on him. This man, whoever he is, has hurt my son.

Enzo shifts and opens his eyes to see me scrutinising his bruise.

'He said I was being pathetic by not letting you go,' he whispers in a tiny voice. 'He said that I won't ever be a real man if I keep holding your hand.'

I look at the back of our captor who is driving this cart that's being led by a black horse. Anger fills my heart.

'Don't you dare listen to him,' I whisper back, taking Enzo into my arms. 'You are just like your father. Brave, loyal and strong. This man who's taken us is a coward.'

Enzo shifts uncomfortably and I glimpse a flash of silver in his pocket. Gently, I reach inside and take out a small dagger.

'Where did you get this?' I ask in disbelief.

Enzo wrings his hands together. 'Father gave it to me. He's been teaching me..'

I didn't know this. There's so much I didn't know about my husband and son. I thought Enzo was just a little boy who liked to read and play fight. I didn't know that Kayden had instilled instructions in him on how to escape under attack. I didn't know that Kayden had given him a dagger. He's only eight years old, too young to have this responsibility on his shoulders. But then, to say this would mean to undermine his father. His strong and noble father who only did this to protect his son.

He thought of everything.

I look around at our surroundings and see we're out of the woods. We're travelling along a cliff side where mountains surround us and there is no civilisation anywhere. All I see are mountain tops and clouds.

I have no idea where we are.

We need to get out of this cart and escape. We need to protect ourselves from this man and whoever he is taking us to. This is the first time I've actually been awake for longer than five minutes and I'm wasting time by not doing something.

I gesture to Enzo to pass me his dagger. Enzo frowns and hands me the weapon. I handle it carefully.

'Cover yourself with this blanket, I don't want you to see,' I whisper to Enzo. His eyes widen and he takes the blanket I've given him.

'What are you going to do?' he asks, his voice shaking.

'It doesn't matter what I'm going to do, my love,' I whisper back. 'I just need you to cover yourself with this blanket and don't come out until I tell you to.'

Enzo nods and covers himself with the itchy blanket.

I can't have him see what I'm about to attempt. I can't have his innocent mind tainted further.

Slowly and quietly, I crawl across the cart towards the driver. He is watching the road ahead and whistling to himself. With the dagger in my hand, I make sure I have a steady grip.

The cart rolls over a rock and I lose my balance. My hands hit the wooden base first but I manage to keep my body up. The dagger falls but I catch it, refusing to give up my lifeline. Regardless, I made a sound. 

The driver turns with a start at the noise I've made. His face is still covered except for the gap that shows his eyes, which are furious. 'You!' he shouts. 'Get back!'

He stops the horse and swipes at me. I dodge and with determination, grab him and hold the dagger against his throat.

'Let us go,' I hiss.

He laughs coldly. 'Sit the fuck down,' he replies. 'Who do you think you are?'

I stare at his eyes and with the bravest voice I can muster, 'I am Athenais Vescovi. I am the wife of the Captain of the Royal Guard. The Crown Shield. Let us go.'

He laughs again but I press the blade harder against his throat, making him swallow nervously.

'Let us go,' I repeat.

He shakes his head. 'No. Sit back down, whore.'

I lean closer to him, my blade digging into his skin further, drawing blood. 'I am not a whore,' I whisper. 'You do not speak to me like that. You will do well to remember this in your next life.'

His eyes widen as realisation dawns on him. I take my chance now. Without hesitating, I slice the dagger across his throat and blood flows down his neck, a crimson waterfall of my own making. I watch as his eyes roll back and his body falls and hits the bottom of the cart.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Clenching the bloody dagger, I wipe it along my dress to clean the evidence of the evil I have just committed.

I didn't realise how much Kayden had been teaching my son.

But I hadn't realised Kayden had also been teaching me.

*******************************************

I quickly rush back to Enzo and pick him up into my arms with the blanket still wrapped around him. His hands clutch my shoulders and he is shaking.

With my hands covering his face, I make sure he can't see the lifeless body of our captor. Quickly, I place him on top of the horse and release the animal from the cart before climbing on top of it back too.

Enzo snuggles into my chest as I clutch the reins. I guide the horse to go back the way we came and urge it into a gallop. Again, we are riding for our lives but this times, I won’t let us be captured. 

I remember us escaping on Atlas and my heart twinges at the memory. I wish this wasn't our life, I wish this wasn't happening but there is nothing I can do. This is life right now and I have to deal with it.

I can keep hoping that Kayden will find us but hoping isn't going to get me anywhere. Hoping isn't going to keep my son and unborn child safe.

Neither is destiny or fate. A higher power isn’t going to save us. All we have in this world, right this minute, is each other. Or, more realistically, Enzo has me. 

I need to get back to my husband so we can go home, lock the doors and be together. I need to get my son home so he can play in the garden and read his books. I need to get home so I can have my baby. 

What I need is to be strong and brave, just like my husband. I need to act quickly, decisively and show no mercy to anyone who stands in our way. 

I am the wife of the Crown Shield.

I will do well to remember it.

[theatomichero]

“…They will turn to you for guidance. They will bow before their queen. Judge them with fairness and let envy not cloud your eyes, or your reign will end as quickly as it began…”

Headmaster Cristian leads you to a restricted section of the auditorium. The both of you walk a long and dark hallway. Unlike the typical modern decor the school has, the corridor is lit by only flaming torches. You can barely even see Cristian next to you. You’re left to your thoughts of what you could potentially encounter. Eventually, you reach what looks like an open door with runic inscriptions engraved at the top. αυτή που ξέρει όλα. You’re able to read ancient Greek as a god. The words written are as follow: “She Who Knows All.”

 You can’t turn back now, so you enter the room. Cristian leaves you behind with a curt nod and a stare from his dark, foreboding eyes. He doesn’t go in with you, as this is your task to fulfill. Inside, more torches and candles mysteriously light up the space with each step you take. In the middle, sitting on a wooden chair is the veiled corpse of a woman. There are various trinkets and offerings laid out by her feet. It looks as though she’s been dead for centuries. That is, until her eyes glow a bright white and she starts to speak to you. 

 “…I am the Oracle. A link between the mortals and the divine. Speaker of Prophecies. Tell me your name, seeker…”

with each step he took, henri grew even more uncomfortable. there was a fifty percent chance his encounter would go smoothly, or possibly great. the other half might mean he'd be given an unpleasant prophecy that could send him sprinting out of the auditorium. regardless of his current emotions, henri pressed on with a confident smile. after reaching the open doorway, he gave cristian one last glance and swallowed hard before entering the dark chamber. he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and gasped as the corpse in front of him sprang to life. 

 hand placed above his heart, henri bent forward slightly and gave the creature a polite bow. “my name is henri ridgemount. i am honored to be in your presence.”

Staring back at you with impassive expression, it is impossible for you to tell how she feels. The face that stares back at you with glowing eyes is devoid of emotion or expression. As she opens her mouth to speak, the audible clacking of bones and teeth clicking together is heard. Thus, divinity is breathed into the old, withered body. “…I see why she chose you to be her vessel…” Extending a long, bony finger, the Oracle beckons you to stare into her eyes properly, demanding respect from you in the presence of a highly revered being. “…Regal and confident… They will bow to you in turn…”

observant as ever, henri was able to catch something of significant importance from the oracle's statement. she? so he embodied a goddess? he gave himself a moment to ponder which one. however, he barely had a moment to think properly before his eyes gleamed with pure delight at her following words. he couldn't contain his excitement and giddily smiled. so far, his future was sounding amazing. “regal with people bowing to me. wow! so i'm to be royalty?” he asked, only to straighten himself up and stare into her gaze.

If the Oracle smiled, it was hard to tell from her words. “…Pride cast down kings and queens…. It would suit you well to heed your eagerness with a level head and clear mind….” The Oracle crackled, letting its words hover in the air. “…I provide answers to the world’s greatest questions… But tell me, are you worthy in your pursuit of godhood?” There is a lingering pause in the musty air with her question, the creaking voice almost reverberating with a divine power. “…Prove to me that you are deserving of my assistance. Answer me, young God:

She walks amidst a blue and green sea. A flowing dress to stop her sinking. Rows of eyes flutter, staring at me. Two for seeing, the rest unblinking.

Call her by her name.”

his face instantly fell at her warning. the cheerful grin and bubbly attitude was snuffed out like a flame. instead, he offered her a more humble demeanor and attempted to control his excitement. henri made a note to heed her words going forward. "i believe myself to be worthy, yes. i will do my best to prove it," he assured the oracle. then came the riddle. henri had to think for a bit, making sure his answer was correct. the hera-incarnate hummed before looking up to finally respond. “she is a peacock. graceful and beautiful.”

Satisfied with the answer, the Oracle remains impassive. Instead, the eyes fixated on you glow brighter, almost piercing into your soul. At once, the room begins to spin, almost swirling and transforming into a void of darkness. You blink once, and then twice. Before your very eyes, as the blurriness begins to clear, you find yourself sitting in the middle of a royal throne room. Clouds sweep beneath your feet, a golden crown aloft in your hair. Your body is naked, your bare bottom pressed against the cool, golden throne. A pale, sheer cape hangs over your shoulders, flowing down from your throne. It frames your toned, divine body nicely. Beside you, a large man sits in a throne identical to yours, his hand clasped in yours. His rough thumb runs along your knuckles, before tracing the beautiful, glimmering ring that is placed on your finger, as if it always belonged there. 

In front of your throne, two lines stretch as far as the eye can see. In the right line, women bow before you, some carrying children in their arms. They lay prone amidst the cloudy floor, offering prayers and words of worship in your name. It lingers like music to your ears. In the left line, couples of all sorts come hand in hand, kneeling and bowing before you. They carry rings in their hands, much like the one on yours, but they pale in comparison to its glimmer and beauty. Still, the couples approach the feet of your throne, kissing your feet and praying for your blessing, your hand upon their union. To them, you are the mother, their queen, the goddess deserving of their prayers.

You hear the Oracle’s voice in your head again. “…They will turn to you for guidance. They will bow before their queen. Judge them with fairness and let envy not cloud your eyes, or your reign will end as quickly as it began…”

the scene before him was straight out of a fairytale. henri was almost tempted to pinch himself. instead, he allowed the vision resume and reveled in the splendor of what could be his future. he looked to the man next to him, but for one reason or another couldn't focus entirely on his face. no matter, for henri felt safe and comforted by his presence despite him being a complete stranger. he could only assume the two of them were married, judging by the diamond ring stacked above a wedding band on his finger. deep inside, henri knew this was his husband. the sole individual destined to be with him for eternity. he felt happy with him, but couldn't shake the suspicion this was too good to be true.

 henri stood up from the magnificent throne, hand still latched with his husband's. “may you be married and start a family. i bless every single one of you with happiness. only death can separate you.” the words slip out of his mouth so naturally, as if he's spoken them hundreds of times before.

With that, the vision began to fade, almost as if a hand was pulling you up from underwater. The voices became more muffled, and the colors began to fade into darkness. It is only then that you return from your previous life into reality, laying on the dusty, wooden floor. The ancient advice rings in your eyes, the vision etched into your mind. With it, the Oracle remains on the wooden chair, eyes lifeless and body motionless, just as you had first seen when you entered. Taking it as your cue to leave, you exit from her chambers.

 Congratulations! Henri has met the Oracle!

[weaverlings]

(so this is super long and mainly about WTNV because that’s the part I understand, or... at least have spent a lot of time thinking about, but there’s definitely a heavy component of comparison between the two series in this)

@vildflower said: I’ve been thinking how wtnv and tma approach similar concepts of vaguely otherworldly entities who are only somewhat connected to the universe that they seem to operate in vs. the universe that they seem to exist in

so this is all super interesting stuff thank u!!!! I just needed to get to the computer to go over it properly bc tbh it deserves it

vildflower said: like,, tma has the whole concept of rituals and avatars whereas wtnv could arguably have. a hierarchy? like when you think about it;; huntokar, the distant prince, the woman from italy, even the great golden hand, are ancient and possibly the closest to ‘gods,’ who dont interact w nightvale often but either have vested interest in it or are able to interact w it more easily due to number of reasons as compared to, like, the rest of the world? 

Part of the reason I listened to The Magnus Archives in the first place was because I’d heard hints of the connection between belief (fear specifically, as it happened) and reality, and the tangible effects that this connection has. I have pretty much always interpreted Night Vale along similar lines, but now having listened to TMA... I don’t feel like the execution is all that similar? 

While the lines are super fun to draw, WTNV doesn’t have such clear divisions or, well... I guess TMA didn’t, either, but I don’t think WTNV does have such clear organizational structure?

I think the/a key difference between WTNV and TMA is that not all of the entities of Night Vale necessarily tie back into an overarching force, or at least... the same overarching force. Which you go into, but that’s just such a core aspect of TMA that it at least feels pretty distinct. 

And the gods of Night Vale, I think, all have a much clearer and even more “relatable” sentience than the Powers. The gods have trouble communicating with other people, in various ways, but they also, say, express regret or ask for coffee when they do communicate.

vildflower said: and then theres the smiling god who could be said to be in a category of his own, or even perhaps in the same category as cecil- the way the smiling god’s existence seems to be in direct connection to desert bluffs/the joyous congregation and cecil seems to ‘depend’ on nightvale and its residents. or maybe it would be more accurate to equate station management and the smiling god, both finding ways to communicate w their respective towns through 'avatars’: cecil & kevin.

Yeah! If being a “Voice” means anything, I do think it would be related to these gods... I guess it would’ve been Huntokar, once, for Cecil. (And now, well... I don’t know. But if bloodstone worship is just happening, that’s a lot of undirected faith, and I feel like it needs to go somewhere... or to something.) And yup, for Kevin, it would be the Smiling God.

However, one thing I’m hoping we’ll see from this arc is addressing the fact that what the Joyous Congregation THINKS is the Smiling God is apparently really different from what it actually is. Even some of the church elders - the actual pastor - believed that it was the centipede, and this would seem to indicate that’s not true. 

I mean, if nothing else It Devours! was pretty clear about the fact that the centipede was just an animal, so I don’t see it or anything like it having plotted or directed someone to exploit people’s brains for labor in the future

So I wouldn’t put the Smiling God in the same category as Cecil, or even Kevin, but I think Cecil and Kevin occupy the same category like you said... 

For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought of Cecil more like an “oracle” (even before Alice Isn’t Dead!!) - giving advice or answering questions, kind of a guide, if in a sort of opaque or enigmatic way, whether he wants to be or not. And then Kevin is more like a prophet - offering a vision of how things should be, giving commandments, etc, regardless of what people might ask for or what would help them.

vildflower said: continuing this heirarchy the next lower tier would perhaps be city council and the librarians which have pretty fixed, smaller areas of direct interaction w nightvalians. there’s also the spire! which sounds quite similar to the spiral, i think….

I think that’s a good example of how it’s different... “Barks” sounded like the kind of thing that could have been related to the Spiral, that sort of distortion. But the purpose was different - the Spire wanted to bargain, and from the sound of it it’s a lot more open about its demands (iirc: Night Valian “Thanksgiving” involves going out to thank the Spire for its “mercy”). It’s also a known destination. 

People in Night Vale know what it is to them. They may not know what it is exactly, but they do know the role it plays in their community. So while it absolutely fits into the structure of Night Vale, I don’t think it’s that similar beyond some (admittedly major) aesthetic elements?

All of those forces in Night Vale, the librarians and the council etc, while indeed forces and while they definitely relate to the human citizens in weird ways... they’re still citizens. 

The Powers are TIED to the world of TMA, but an explicit part of it is that they’re fundamentally alien to it, too, and basically need to be forced in.

vildflower said: but yeah,, hope you don’t mind the long rant rip aksk but at this point I’m pretty sure one could draw up a list of some 15 nightvale entities too lmao

(fdsdgh no you don’t need to apologize, I loved it and I’ve been thinking about this kind of thing a lot anyway too!!)

vildflower said: HOW COULD I FORGET! the glow cloud interacts w an even smaller group of people (the PTA) than the city council + angels!! I’d say they’re actually at the lowest rung cause they seemed to only be interested in josie; maybe their attachment to them in turn lead to be attached to nightvale even after she died?

actually the Glow Cloud works w/ the school board and seems to end up in conflict w/ the PTA and I only remember this because I was checking on it for something recently oops. 

ALSO THE ANGELS... YEAH THAT’S NEAT because!! they’re the only part of this that has an explicit connection to belief in canon!!

“They are all named Erika with a K. All angels are equal to all other angels. They share all memories and all physical sensations. They experience everything simultaneously. Their minds are overwhelmed with enlightenment and pain.

“They have no centralized leadership, but they do have committees, lots of committees. These committees do not have titles nor objectives. The committees simply emerge as needed...

“Angels have no bodies, only visual projections of winged, barely humanoid forms. These forms are dreamed up by those who see and acknowledge them, and may vary based on the viewer.

“The secret hierarchy of angels is an ethereal mass of feelings and thoughts made manifest by necessity. They’re only individual beings because we imagine them so, but they are collectively beings.”

But I think, yeah... Night Vale is, at its core, a community. And the worldbuilding of WTNV reflects that, even to the extent that belief is involved. I mean, really, the world does run on “belief” it’s just not a supernatural thing... We believe in the necessity of our social structures, so we create and act on them. 

And that’s what happens in Night Vale, it’s just that in Night Vale, a divine Glow Cloud runs the school board and the librarians will eat you. All the “forces” that we expect are there. Even though they’re strange (to us, at least), it’s all centered around the maintenance of a community. TMA has a much larger scope.

theres that whispering forest too and omg the desert otherworld, and the black star in ‘a story about you’ & other episodes; entities that manifest more as locations than sentient beings? 

So yes!! Night Vale as a place is definitely a gathering point for the weird. I think of Hiram’s favorite memory in this context, too - Hiram was happy in Night Vale because he could just live, for a while, anyway. Or at least, when people were upset, they weren’t upset by his nature as a five-headed dragon (who cares, right?) but because of what he did)

It does have a clear structure, but it’s not the same kind that the Powers operate under - WTNV (depending on interpretation, and none of it is canon tbh, as much as I love it) and TMA are both very different explorations of the connection between belief and reality.

Like the Whispering Forest is... well, apparently it’s its own town now. But it was sort of the local weird forest; it was... a citizen, maybe. In the way, indeed, that the Glow Cloud still is! It just wants to live (and grow. and expand) and Night Vale is a place it can do that. 

The Desert Otherworld seems to be connected to the Smiling God, although we don’t know much about how or why or if it’s always been that way. Dana saw some things, though, like when she almost forgot herself in the image of a triangle (iirc), not to mention the rumbling and whatever’s up with the Mudstone Abyss... And then it does have its connection to Night Vale, too, through the Dog Park... There’s a LOT going on w/ the Otherworld; that’s basically its own post dsfdgfdg 

And the dark planet lit by no sun is like. I admit I’ve never thought of it in the same light as the other things before! So I’d want to do that before going into it but that raises some SUPER interesting possibilities and if you have more thoughts I’d love to hear them! It definitely merits that further consideration. 

So in summary: TMA has rituals and avatars, and WTNV has community. I think.

[atamascolily]

One of the exercises in Julia Cameron’s The Vein of Gold is to compile a list of favorite movies--or ones with images that resonate with you--and note any patterns that arise. Here are some of mine, with observations below.

(For the purposes of this exercise, I’m sticking with live-action films, but there’s no reason why there couldn’t be animated films.)

1. Star Wars Original Trilogy (Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi)

(Yes, I know this is technically three films, with three different directors and independent histories, but I didn’t feel like listing them all separately.)

2. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Ironically, I love the first Peter Jackson movie, but not any of the subsequent ones. Which is not to say they’re necessarily bad movies, but they’re not the ones I’d want on endless loop. (Part of this is because The Two Towers and The Return of the King are essentially war movies, and also because I have to watch Faramir act OOC, which hurts my soul.)

3. The Secret Garden

4. The Matrix

I actually don’t have strong feelings about Reloaded and Revolutions--like, the actual plot is weird, but I am so not watching these films for plot.

5. Return to Oz

6. Inception

7. Labyrinth

8. The Terminator

Don’t get me wrong, Terminator 2 has a lot going for it, but it’s not the one that I can’t stop thinking about (except for that one deleted scene with Michael Biehn, which is a totally different story).

Thoughts and Themes:

So at first glance, it seems like I have two separate categories: ‘80s and ‘90s-’00s films. Or maybe it’s sci-fi and fantasy? The Secret Garden is the only one that even approaches some kind of realism, and even that is a pastoral kind of world that would not be out of place in the more peaceful parts of, say, Middle-Earth (especially Fourth Age). How about high-tech vs. low-tech, or cyberpunk vs. fairy tale? Or, even better, what about reality vs. illusion (or story vs. truth if you prefer)--which is also a major tension within every film on this list?

I’ll also note that most of these films have an epic color palette, with memorable landscapes that either serve as characters in and of themselves, or symbolize the mental states of various characters. These films are beautiful works of art, reveling in The Aesthetic, whether that’s the idyllic peacefulness of the Shire or the grimy back alleys of 1980s Los Angeles.

The thing that really got me when I laid it out like this--the thing I hadn’t noticed before--was that all of these involve a (sometimes literal) rebirth, transition, or journey from darkness to light (or light to darkness to light again, depending on the work). You could also substitute life and death here, and not change much.

This is, again, often quite literal: Sarah moves underground in Labyrinth, the Fellowship descends into the Mines of Moria, the secret garden comes to life with the spring, Dorothy confronts the Nome King in his underground lair. Neo wakes up to find himself naked and soaked to the skin, and flushed down the tubes like garbage, in a literal hellscape where the machines destroyed the sun (a motif that also appears in Terminator’s dystopian future), then literally dies and is resurrected at the end of the film. Luke goes underground to confront his own double--another recurring theme!--on Dagobah.

Duality and the exploration of one’s soul through another world is HUGE  big theme--or, to put it another way, The internal mirrors the external. This is a huge motif of Inception, which is a literal inward journey into a character’s psyche; and you could also make the argument that both Return to Oz and Labyrinth cover similar territory. Is Oz real, or is it in Dorothy’s head? Is Ozma a part of her, or is Ozma a separate entity? Is Jareth a real foe or is he the embodiment of Sarah’s fears and desires, a fantasy she concocts based on a story in a book?  And Frodo realizes he’s not so different from Gollum, that the sad shriveled creature is what he could become if he fails at his task--and, ironically, his kindness to Gollum is what allows the quest to succeed when Frodo finally succumbs to temptation.

Frodo in the The Fellowship of the Ring sees the world differently when he wears the One Ring, and it’s terrifying. Sarah Connor realizes that she’s left her ordinary world behind and crossed into Kyle and the Terminator’s reality in a moving speech, and The Matrix doesn’t even try to be subtle. Even The Secret Garden uses the eponymous garden as a metaphor for the blossoming of Mary’s own soul, and the souls of those around her (especially her uncle and cousin, but also Ben Weatherstaff).

These stories are also concerned with ecology, though it’s usually a background motif, since the main focus is on saving the world (or what’s left of it, i.e, humans). The Shire is paradise; Mordor is a desolate hellscape, dominated by a giant volcano. Kyle Reese breaks down over the beauty of the world, and Mary Lennox seeks to bring the lost garden back to life. Dorothy retreats elsewhere after the grey grimness of Kansas/the mental hospital.

There’s also a real tension concerning humans’ relationship to technology in these films. The Matrix is an illusion, and machines control the earth. Or the machines don’t even bother farming humans and aim to kill ‘em all. Saruman literally transforms Isengard from a tree-lined field to an industrial hellscape. The mental institution uses that freaky electrical machine on Dorothy. Star Wars is more accepting of droids and technology, but even there, there’s tension: Obi-wan calls Darth Vader “more machine than man,” and it’s not a compliment; the Death Star is built to obliterate entire planets and must be stopped twice.

I’d argue this theme goes deeper than human/tech--it’s really human/other, with technology providing one kind of other. There’s human-alien interactions in Star Wars and Labyrinth, not to mention Mary’s relationship with the robin in The Secret Garden, Dorothy’s friendship with Jack Pumpkinhead and the Gump. On a less friendly note, Frodo’s relationship with Gollum is the emotional crux of the Lord of the Rings.

These films also feature the classic hero’s journey, but often through a female lens. The protagonist usually has no special skills other than their strong moral character and determination--or even if they do have skills (like Ariadne*), they still serve as an audience surrogate or substitute, a stranger to the new worlds they visit. The protagonist has at least one faithful friend/companion/love interest to help them (sometimes even a team/found family), and often a mentor as well (who may or may not be a crusty eccentric). In the end, the characters must take control of their own destiny--Frodo chooses to leave the Fellowship, Luke throws away his lightsaber rather than kill his father, Sarah declares to Jareth “You have no power over me”. Sarah Connor yells, “On your feet, soldier!” and keeps going to the bitter end, and Mary Lennox is unafraid of her bratty cousin’s wrath and puts a stop to it when everyone else enables him.

*(As an aside, I know Ariadne’s not the main character in Inception, but I find the actual main character way less interesting, so she’s the one I focus on, just like I find Trinity far more compelling than Neo.)

Characters often have Meaningful Names: Morpheus, Trinity, Neo; Ariadne; Luke Skywalker, Han Solo. These films also feature a question of fate and inevitability - Luke has precognitive visions, Neo consults the Oracle, Sarah is told “there is no fate but what we make for ourselves,” with Kyle serving as an oracle of sorts with messages from the future to come. The Mirror of Galadriel shows possible futures for the Shire, too.

Another theme is that the protagonist must suffer and/or work hard for their transformation. Mary has to do the actual work of gardening; Luke has to sweat and do handstands (beautifully, I might add); Frodo has to walk to Mount Doom; Sarah has to walk the labyrinth, and Sarah Connor has to survive a fucking nightmare. Dorothy has to rescue the royal family of Ev and free Ozma; Ariadne has to design a dream-puzzle for the heist to work. Even Neo has to train with Morpheus--though he’s able to use cheat codes to download martial arts directly into his brain without having to sweat for it; his real journey is in self-confidence. 

In keeping with the stunning visuals, impossible feats are regularly featured, and excellent, cutting-edge-for-their-time special effects are prominent. Many also feature stunning fight scenes--the classic Luke vs. Vader duel on Cloud City; the “I know Kung fu” sequence in The Matrix; the clashes in The Fellowship of the Ring. Jareth has some excellent moves in Labyrinth, too, although he’s more inclined to dance than traditional battles.

I couldn’t resist contrasting my favorite moment in Return to Oz--rescuing Ozma from the mirror prison--with Ariadne shattering her own reflection in Inception, because that is such a moment for me, encapsulating all of the reality/illusion, internal/external, self/other dichotomies I mentioned above. (See also the Mirror of Galadriel above.) Inception and Labyrinth also share the motif of impossible Escher staircases, which I freakin’ adore.

It will probably come as no surprise to note that I also enjoyed films like The Dark Crystal, The Neverending Story,  and What Dreams May Come, which tap into similar themes and imagery. You’ll probably be able to guess that The Sword in the Stone is my favorite animated Disney film, too.

I also love a number of Asian films like Hero, House of Flying Daggers, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, all of which feature beautiful landscapes and color palettes, stunning fight scenes and special effects, along with a healthy dose of the fantastic, and a focus on story vs. reality (often with a plot twist or surprise reveal at the end). This is unsurprising when you consider the strong debt both Star Wars and The Matrix owe to Asian cinema in terms of style, plot, and aesthetic. In those films, the tension is more society vs. self, but duality is still very strongly present.

If you notice any other patterns or recurring themes, let me know; I’d love to hear them! Also, if you can think of any other movies I might enjoy based on this, let me know.

[swanqueeneverafter]

54. I’ll Be Your Mirror, Pt.2

Storybrooke. Present. Zelena’s Farmhouse. (Zelena drinks her tea as Archie is put to work caring for the baby.) Zelena: “Keep bouncing. She likes it. And if you know what's good for you, you'll add some funny faces. (The Evil Queen appears in a cloud of smoke:) About bloody time.” Evil Queen: “Oh, good, you're here. What a day. Thanks for watching him.” Zelena: “Yeah, thanks for asking. You know, I could've called Regina and turned him over.” Evil Queen: “Yes, you could have, but you didn't. You know what, Sis? I know exactly what you need. Come with me.” Zelena: “Come with you? What about Robin?” Evil Queen: “Oh, we have the perfect babysitter. (To Archie:) If the baby dies, you die. (To Zelena:) See? Now put a barrier spell over this dump to keep the vermin in and come along. Your little sister can make everything better.” Storybrooke. The Three Bears Day Spa. (Regina and Zelena are having a spa day.) Evil Queen: “Have you seen Gold's new haircut?” Zelena: “Yes, I bumped into him today.” Evil Queen: “He's looking good, isn't he? That man needed to get away from that blithering bookworm.” Zelena: “Have you and the Dark One ever...” Evil Queen: “Have you?” Zelena: “God, no. (Chuckling:) No. But I did try once. Back in my wicked days.” Evil Queen: “You know those days don't have to be over. So, what's holding you back now, hmm? I mean, isn't this what you've always wanted? A family who gets you, who chooses you? Regina and the others only tolerate you. They want you to shun your gifts. But I choose you because you're wicked.” Zelena: “But what if my daughter doesn't?” Evil Queen: “I understand. Now, don't forget I spent 10 years lying to Henry about who I really was because I thought, well, if he ever saw the real me, I'd be rejected.” Zelena: “But isn't that exactly what happened?” Evil Queen: “Only because I lied to him. You see, I never gave him the chance to accept the real me. But you, Zelena, you are strong and powerful and wicked. But your daughter won't embrace who you really are unless you embrace yourself first. Who knows? (Chuckles:) She may just turn out as wonderfully wicked as you.”

Regina’s Vault. (Regina is fixing a potion as Emma walks down the steps and enters the vault.) Emma: “You, uh, took off kind of quickly.” Regina: “Well, I'm sorry. I'm trying to save your life.” Emma: “Fair enough. Regina, about my vision-” Regina: “I said I’m fine, Emma. We both know it can’t be me under that hood. At least not ‘me’ me. I’m more worried about how Henry took the news. How is he? How did the Charmings take it?” Emma: “They’re a little upset I didn’t tell them, but honestly, they’re as anxious as us to figure this out. Now, what are we making in this jar of nightmares?” Regina: “It's a different kind of locator spell.” Emma: (As Regina adds another ingredient to the mixture:) “I thought everything Aladdin had was hot property.” Regina: “So did I, but then I realized there's one thing Aladdin didn't steal. His magic. This potion links like magic... in this case, the magic of two Saviors.” Emma: “Mine and Aladdin's.” Regina: “All you have to do is drink. Let's go find Aladdin.” Agrabah. Past. Cave Of Wonders. (Aladdin is still reeling from discovering he has magic.) Aladdin: “So, you knew? This whole time you knew, and you didn't think to mention it?” Jasmine: “You would've believed me?” Aladdin: “Of course not. (Sighs:) I need to be alone.” Jasmine: “As you wish. But before I go... This scarab was given to my family by the people of Agrabah many generations ago, a gift for freeing the kingdom from darkness. It's a hero's scarab. (Places it in Aladdin’s hand:) And now it's yours, because even if you don't believe in you, I do.” (Jasmine turns and leaves the cave. Opening his hand, Aladdin looks down at the scarab as Jafar appears in a cloud of smoke behind him.) Jafar: “Oh, hello, Aladdin. So how does it feel to be the Savior?” Aladdin: “Feels pretty good, 'cause I get to defeat you. Isn't that part of the job description?” Jafar: (Chuckles:) “Yeah. Perhaps that, too. But what happens then?” Aladdin: “I live happily ever after?” Jafar: “Not quite. Would you like to see what happens to your little hero endeavor, hmm? (Indicates the red bird sitting on his shoulder:) This is no ordinary bird. It's a type of an oracle. (The bird’s eyes glow red and images flash before Aladdin’s mind’s eye:) And what it's showing you now... is your the future. Not pretty, is it? But death is the fate of all Saviors.” Aladdin: “Is there any way to change it?”

Jafar: “Well, your future's not set in stone yet. There is a way to alter your destiny with these. (Holds up the Shears of Destiny:) Once belonging to the Three Fates, these shears can sever the ties to your own destiny. You will live, and you will no longer be a Savior.” Aladdin: “So, I... I won't have any power?” Jafar: “But you'll live a long, prosperous, happy life, paid for by all the treasures from the Cave of Wonders. You said it yourself, Aladdin. You didn't ask to be a Savior. And perhaps when you're free, you can buy yourself a new title. Doesn't Prince Aladdin sound so much more appealing than dead Savior?” The Palace. A Short Time Later. (Jasmine opens the doors to her father’s chamber and enters.) Jasmine: “Father? Are you in here? Father.” Sultan: “Jasmine, my dear. Have you seen my new castle?” Jasmine: “We don't have time to play with toys, father. I have to get you somewhere safe. A great battle is coming.” Sultan: “But Agrabah is at peace.” Jasmine: “Agrabah is dying. I know you can't see it right now, but Jafar has torn our kingdom apart, so I found a Savior who will defeat him.” Jafar: (Entering the room:) “Defeat the Royal Vizier? That sounds like treason.” Jasmine: “Don't listen to him, Father. Jafar is controlling you.” Jafar: (Stepping between Jasmine and her father:) “Yes. I am. (Using his magic, Jafar sends Jasmine hurtling across the room:) So, I can do what I want to you.” Jasmine: “You stay away from me. The Savior will be here soon.” Jafar: “Oh, do you mean Aladdin? The thief with a heart of gold, or is it the heart that desires gold?” Jasmine: “You don't know him.” Jafar: “Oh, but I do. Your Savior took the gold and ran. Now all that's left between me and the throne is you.” (Using his staff, Jafar traps Jasmine inside a large hour glass. The sands of time falling upon her.) Aladdin: (Suddenly entering, upon a magic carpet:) “I wouldn't be so sure of that!” (Aladdin circles the room, much to the delight of the bemused Sultan.) Jafar: (As Aladdin lands:) “You should've used the shears.” Aladdin: “Yeah, probably. But I'm still the Savior, and I don't care what price I pay for it.” (Using his own magic, Aladdin frees Jasmine and breaks Jafar’s staff in two, releasing the Sultan from Jafar’s spell.)

Jafar: “Spoken like a thief who's never had to pay a price for anything. But you will. And someday you'll realize that today was no victory.” (He leaves.) Aladdin: (Rushes to the princess’ side:) “Jasmine. Jasmine, are you all right?” Jasmine: “I'm fine. I just didn't think...” Aladdin: “What was wrong? Was the magic carpet too much?” Jasmine: “No. I just thought you had abandoned us.” Aladdin: “Yeah, um... Well, to be honest, I-I almost did.” Jasmine: “And what changed your mind?” Aladdin: “You.” (They lean in to kiss when the Sultan interrupts them.) Sultan: “Jasmine! Who is this young man? And why is there a toy castle in my throne room?” (Aladdin and Jasmine both stand to address the Sultan.) Aladdin: “I'm a friend of your daughter's. (Holds up the scarab and places it in Jasmine’s hand:) I just wanted to return something she had lost.” Jasmine: “Keep it. It's yours now. So you'll always remember that you have a friend who believes in you.” Storybrooke. Present. Woods. (Henry, Jasmine and Regina follow Emma, who, after taking Regina’s potion, has become a sort of human divining rod.) Emma: “We're getting close. It's... it's like we're connected. (Images flash through Emma’s mind which direct her on the right path:) It's this way.” Crypt. Emma: “This is the place. He's here.” Regina: “Here? We're directly under the cemetery in some kind of forgotten...” Jasmine: “Crypt. This is a crypt. Aladdin can't be here. You must've made some kind of mistake.” Emma: (Sympathetically:) “I don't think so.” Henry: “Why don't we wait outside while the others look around?” Jasmine: “No. Give me one of those torches.” (Jasmine takes a torch and moves further into the crypt. Coming upon a body, she sees something glinting in the torchlight. Reaching forward, she picks up the object, gasping in horror as she recognises the scarab.) Emma: “Jasmine?” Jasmine: (Cries:) “You were right. (Voice breaking:) He is here.” Regina: “Are you... are you sure that's Aladdin?” Jasmine: (Sniffles:) “Yes.” Regina: “I'm so sorry.” 

Henry: (To Emma:) “Mom. Does this mean...” Emma: “I... I don't know. I think I need to be alone for a minute.” (Slowly, everyone leaves the crypt, giving Emma her space. Silently, she moves to lean against a wall, sliding down it to her knees. Looking down at her hand, she sees it begin to shake again as her vision plays in her mind’s eye once more.) Henry: (Re-entering the crypt:) “Mom?” Emma: (Startled:) “Kid. I said I wanted to be alone.” Henry: “I know. But... (Crouches in front of her:) I'm so sorry.” Emma: (Placing her hand on his:) “What?” Henry: “This is all my fault.” Emma: “What... what are you saying?” Henry: “If I never knocked on your door, If I never dragged you to Storybrooke in the first place, none of this would be happening. I forced you to become the Savior.” Emma: “You didn't force me to do anything. You helped me believe.” Henry: “Believing won't stop the future.” Emma: “Maybe not. But it gave me a family. It made me a mother. I have actual magic in my life. I have you. If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing.” Henry: “But it's not fair.” Emma: “Oh, kid. (They stand:) Let's not worry about the end of this story, okay? Endings usually suck. Let's just... enjoy the middle, the journey together.” (They hug and soon Henry hears a noise.) Henry: “Someone's there.” Emma: (Stands in front of Henry, her arms up ready:) “Stand back. I got this.” Aladdin: (Emerging from the shadows, notices Emma’s shaking hand:) “Sure you know how to work that?” Emma: “Aladdin?” Aladdin: “From one Savior to another, that is no fun, is it?”

Agrabah. Past. Marketplace. (Aladdin and Jasmine walk together through the busy streets.) Aladdin: “How is he, the Sultan?” Jasmine: “He’s my father again, thanks to you.” Aladdin: “I had some help. But don't tell anyone. My reputation, you know?” Jasmine: “Oh, that reminds me. Father insists you have your pick of the royal treasury.” Aladdin: “I don't want a reward.” Jasmine: (Chuckles:) “The greatest thief in Agrabah turning down the Sultan's riches?” Aladdin: “Yeah.” Jasmine: “Your reputation is doomed. (Chuckles:) So, what does the Savior want?” Aladdin: (Hesitates:) “Just to be the Savior. You know, save people.” Jasmine: (Slightly disappointed:) “Right. Well, a falcon arrived this morning. Jafar was sighted in the eastern provinces.” Aladdin: “Right. (Steps closer to her:) Come with me.” Jasmine: “What?” Aladdin: “We make a good team. We could fight Jafar together. And I could show you the world. What do you say, Princess?” (They lean in for a kiss once more but Jasmine stops herself.) Jasmine: “I... Oh, I can't. There's much work to be done here. Someone once told me that my kingdom was in pain for a very long time.” Aladdin: “Mm-hmm.” Jasmine: “They were right. (Sighs:) And they also said that I was selfish. (Chuckles:) Also right.” Aladdin: “I wouldn't listen to him. (Jasmine chuckles:) He sounds like quite the scoundrel.” Jasmine: (Sighs:) “This isn't goodbye. You'll defeat Jafar. And then... You know where to find me.” Aladdin: “Then I'll be seeing you. Princess.” (They part ways, Jasmine looking after him for a long moment before heading back to the Palace. Aladdin enters a side street when a satchel magically appears over his shoulder. Opening it, he pulls out the Shears of Destiny. He reads the note attached.) Jafar (VO:): “For a rainy day or the coming storm. When the Savior's burden becomes too much, you'll thank me.” Storybrooke. Present. Crypt. (Aladdin stands holding out the Shears.) Emma: “You used them.” Aladdin: “Yeah, I did. And Agrabah fell. So... I fled to the Enchanted Forest and got swept up in the curse.” Henry: “So, you've been in Storybrooke this entire time?” Aladdin: “Lucky for me, the sheriffs in town are too busy saving the world to notice a common thief. A very good one, to their credit.” Emma: “So, you planted the scarab. You didn't want us to find you.” Aladdin: “Well, I never intended to reveal myself. But after hearing you and the boy, I couldn't keep these to myself.” (Hands Emma the Shears.) Henry: “But Jasmine... She's looking for you. You... You need to go to her.” Aladdin: “She was the first person to believe I could be more than just a selfish street rat. I can't see the look in her eyes when she realizes that's exactly what I am.” Emma: “I was... I am a street rat, too. I made plenty of mistakes. But I found people who kept me strong and cared about me as much as Jasmine clearly cares about you. Maybe the real mistake was keeping the Savior burden to yourself.” Aladdin: “Our story never even begun.” Emma: “You two never... In the movie, you...” Aladdin: “Duty always got in the way.” Henry: “It's never too late to start.”

Storybrooke Heritage Park. (Jasmine sits alone on a park bench, the golden scarab in her hands.) Aladdin: (Approaching:) “Hey there, Princess.” Jasmine: (Exhales sharply:) “Aladdin? (They embrace:) I thought you were dead.” Aladdin: “I thought I'd never see you again. (They hug, again:) So, now what?” Jasmine: “Now you need to help me. That's why I've been searching for you. Agrabah is in terrible danger. We need the Savior.” Aladdin: “Yeah. Um... about that.” Zelena’s Farmhouse. (Archie stands in the kitchen with baby Robin in his arms as the sisters return.) Archie: “Where have you been?” Evil Queen: (Taking a seat:) “Yes, mothering isn't easy, is it?” Zelena: (Taking the baby from him:) “A spa day is exactly what Mommy needed to get back to basics, isn't it?” Archie: “Basics? What... what... what are you gonna do? You gonna... you gonna torture me? Kill me?” Zelena: (Laughs:) “Please. Don't be ridiculous. (Places the baby in the crib:) That would be a bit too, well, evil for my tastes. No. I've got to show my daughter who her mommy is. (She transforms Archie back into a cricket, hanging him in a cage above the baby’s crib. Laughs:) Wicked.”

[dr3aming-of-stars]

Lunyxweek - Day 6

I was originally going to post this during ffxvrarepairsweek in July, but I ended up getting super busy with things and my inspiration was gravatating towards other ideas at the time. BUT! I finally got around to finishing it, and just in time for Lunyxweek! I had so much fun writing it! :D + BONUS! DAY 6: Free choice! Summary: Luna has trouble sleeping and looks back on past events, and the closely approaching future of her responsibilites as Oracle to the people. With Nyx at her side to help guide her on her quest. What will the glaive do to help the sleepless Oracle?

Word count: 6320

Rating: PG

Pairing: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret & Nyx Ulric

@lunyxweek

The rain continuously pelted against the window, a loud crack of thunder prodding the Oracle to open her eyes blearily with a silent look of discomfort. Sleep wasn’t coming to her easily. For over an hour, she’d been trying to get her tired mind to settle, and for sleep to take her under it’s wing, but nothing seemed to be working in her favor.

Each time she closed her eyes, images of the destruction and chaos that swept over Insomnia clouded her mind and burned behind her closed lids. She let out another breathless sigh, pushing away the blankets from her body and sitting upright on the hotel bed. Her hands motioning over to rest in her lap, as her eyes peered over towards the window; the faint flicker of moonlight dancing behind the curtains.

It still tore a hole inside her heart every time she pictured that devastating day. Remembering how it was supposed to be such a momentous occasion in history across all of Eos, turned tragic.

Feeling sleep being a fleeting thing, she swiftly swung her legs out from under the remaining covers, placing her bare feet against the cool flooring. Making her way over towards the window and splaying the curtains with a hand to view the nightlife of Lestallum. She’d lost count of how many days, or even weeks her and the glaive had been travelling for. Having taken a pit-stop at the Leville in Lestallum for a quiet respite from her duties for a day. Surely it was nice to have a day to relax and enjoy what the city had to offer, enjoying the scenic view of the Disc of Cauthess, and a variety of delectable dishes that the princess had never even dreamed of consuming before. It was all so new and exciting, and Nyx all but laughed wholeheartedly at her genuine curiosity and bewilderment.

It filled her with warmth at the joyful memories she had made here with the glaive, and she almost selfishly didn’t want it to end. Her priorities as Oracle would come first, but that didn’t cancel out on taking some much needed “TLC” as Nyx had put it. She let out a quiet laugh at the memory, trying her best not to wake the sleeping glaive sprawled out across the second bed adjacent to her.

Luna silently crept over towards the sleeping glaive, kneeling down to study his face a bit more closely. He looked so peaceful. His even breathing timed with the rise and fall of his chest, and an arm laying limply off the side of the bed. This may have well been the first time she’d seen him get a decent night’s rest in a while.

Ever since they left Insomnia, she kept pestering him to not worry so much about her, and to think about his own well being for once. But alas, he didn’t take heed of her words and kept telling her that he didn’t care what happened to him, so long as she remained safe come Altissia.

The exhaustion in his eyes when they had arrived in Lestallum that morning spoke otherwise. Even though he remained upbeat and at attention as always, his actions were still rather lethargic.

That’s when they had settled for the night at the Leville, she made sure he got some much needed rest. He put up a good fight, but it was no match for the princess’ argumentative ways.

Nyx’s eyebrows began to knit together, as if he were in some sort of pain. His nose scrunched up and his lips were forming into a disgruntled frown.

Luna hesitantly reached out a hand to gently smooth away at the wrinkles that had begun forming a little more frequently against his forehead, earning her another scrunched up look from the glaive that slowly softened from her gingerly touches. She let her fingers lightly glide across his rough complexion, brushing over scars that marred his face from the battle in Insomnia, how many countless Nifs he had to best to get them safely out of the city; the small tattoo that laid just beneath his eye, still wondering what kind of meaning it held for him.

The shift in his position caused a braid of his to fall in front of his face, landing atop of her hand. She froze in mid motion, unsure as to if she should pull away carefully, or place the lone braid back in its place behind his ear. Still, the look of utter peacefulness on his expression made a smile spread across her lips. He did so much for her, and yet, he never asked for anything in return. With one gentle motion, she moved the braid back and placed it carefully behind his ear, trying to be mindful not to wake him.

Her efforts remained fruitless when she noticed him shuffling further in his position on the bed, eyes slowly beginning to flutter open and a tired hum fleeing his lips. She didn’t have the time to move away, nor did she feel the need to in the current situation.

Nyx’s eyes blinked a couple of more times, adjusting to the minimal amount of light that seeped into the room via the partially parted window. When his eyes landed onto Luna’s soft gaze, a small smile graced her features upon realization, which made his eyebrows further pull together in confusion.

“Why are you still awake, your highness?” He asked, his voice still groggy.

Her face still held that tender smile, refusing to let him see even a moment a weakness in the darkness.

“It matters not. I’ve just been on high alert as of late.”

Nyx gave out a displeased huff, propping himself up on his elbow to let his face rest on his hand. “C’mon, don’t start giving me that crap now. I can tell that something’s been up with you, so don’t be afraid to tell me what’s bothering you, okay?”

The response slightly shocked her. She was well aware of the fact that he was worried, far more worried than he should be for her, but it made her that much happier. She felt safe laying down her burdens onto him. Even as her smile began to twitch the smallest bit, and she began to nervously fiddle about with her fingers that rested along the sheets of the mattress -- she felt a little more at ease.

“You truly are too perceptive sometimes, you do realize that, don’t you?” She lightly laughed, letting her shoulders fall in a more relaxed manner.

He let out a low throaty laugh in return, this time, fully bringing himself up into a sitting position, and placing a hand cautiously over her fingers that ceased in their incessant nervous habit the moment he did so. The warmth of his palms against her chilled fingers made her shiver a bit at the contact, though it soothed the worry in her heart.

“Being perceptive is just part of my nature. I can’t just turn a blind eye to someone who’s hurting, especially after what just happened.” He let out a sigh, keeping his eyes on her hands. “I understand if it’s too painful to talk about, but know that I’m here.”

That pulled at her heart yet again. Always ever the selfless hero.

“I appreciate the sentiment, truly. I just… I just feel like there’s something more that I could’ve done. Something that could’ve prevented the chaos. I felt so powerless…” Her voice began to quiet as she uttered out the last of her words, gripping her nails into the sheets with pronounced vigor. Was there nothing in this world that could be left uncorrupted by the hands of such villainous people?

“That’s not true. You did all that you could, and that’s the most important factor of all. Besides, I don’t think just any princess could jump out of a moving airship and live to tell the tale.” He reasoned, sporting another laugh and motioning with a hand to bring her chin up to look at him. “It takes a lot of guts to do something that reckless.”

The look of frustration and sadness dispersed from her expression almost immediately at the mention of her previous actions. Another smile already beginning to twitch at the corners of her lips.

“That was only because you chose to follow me and catch me as I fell. I believe the gratitude goes to you, sir Ulric.”

“I think you give me too much credit, your highness.”

“Though that credit is well deserved, is it not?” She tilted her head, eyeing him with a look of curiosity.

He pulled his hands away from her with what she could assume to be was a nervous clearing of his throat, while a hand rose up to rub at the back of his neck. “Your kindness is really too much, your high-”

“Luna. I’d prefer if we started to call each other by our given names.” She said with a gracious air, rising up from her position on the floor and taking a seat on the bed next to him, her posture slightly rigid yet poised as ever. “I consider you to be a valuable friend of mine, and as friends should call the other by their first names. It gets rather tiresome after awhile with all this royal  proclivity. I don’t want to be the Oracle, or Princess of Tenebrae tonight--tonight, I just want to be Luna.”

At first she believed that he would reject the idea, tell her how he couldn’t go against anything that deferred her royal title, but it wasn’t anything like that. Because in that moment, he understood the weight of the situation. She wanted to be normal for a night just as much as he did. And normalcy was becoming less and less of a common want, and more of a luxury all on its on.

She watched as he cracked a half-smile, throwing an arm over his knees. “Alright then, Luna. Tonight you’re just a simple tourist who took leave from work for a vacation.”

Intrigued, she raised a brow with a twitch of her lips. “What does that make of you? A wandering traveller as well?”

He shrugged. “No one special, just a friend who decided to tag along for the adventure.”

There was silence for a minute before Nyx decided to speak up once again. “And as friends do, they try to help the other out when they’re having trouble with something.”

He proceeded to swing his legs off the bed, making his way over to the large wooden dresser pressed against the wall and began rummaging through each drawer with deft hands. He let out a short huff of irritation when his search came up empty by the time he reached the last drawer, finding nothing but old flyers that were of no use and dust that had been collecting at the back.

She looked on with mild curiosity, wondering as to why the glaive--her friend, began to look utterly frustrated when he closed back up the drawers, tapping his foot and rubbing at his chin in thought.

“Is there something the matter?”

He shook his head with another wordless hum, darting over to the couch next to continue his search. Now he was beginning to act rather strange with his hands digging in-between the couch cushions, a look of concentration etched onto his face.

“Look, I know this might seem weird to you right now, but I promise I have a good reason for it.”

She nodded, creeping up towards the front of the bed and letting her feet dangle off the edge. “I trust in your judgement.”

Nyx let out a snort, continuously digging his arm further into the couch as if he were going to find some type of buried treasure hidden within it. “Sometimes people leave things in these types of rooms, so it’s always fun to go searching to see what people leave behind. Once, Libertus and I found over 50 gil hidden in beds, couches, furniture, you name it. And other times, we found some really weird stuff. You wouldn’t believe the things--Aha!”

The surprise in his tone made her slightly jolt in her spot. What could he have found that was that exciting? She was a little worried to question what this mysterious item was in the first place, given the thought that it could either be dangerous or disturbing to say the least. But what he ended up holding between his fingers was a small rectangular cardboard box.

He once again wordlessly moved from the couch, the questionable box held within his calloused hands, and went back to sitting back on the hotel bed with her following by shifting in her spot to face him properly.

He opened the small package, pulling out a small deck of playing cards and shuffling them in his hands. “Ever play a game of cards?”

“On occasion, perhaps.” She stated. “Though I used to play with Noctis a lot when we were younger.”

“Well, I have a proposition for you if you’re willing?” He continued to shuffle about the cards, throwing her back another half-smile.

“Proposition?”

"That being we put up something as a wager for the winner.”

He shuffled through the cards one last time, setting them down on the sheets and creating two sets of cards for the both of them. He held out one of them to her, to which, she took it with a polite nod of her head. She made sure to study her cards thoroughly at first, trying to place out what exactly his motives were. It had been some time since she had properly sat down to play a game with someone so leisurely like this. It felt nice, and certainly put her mind at ease for the first time in what felt like weeks.   

“Is this your idea of trying to lift my spirits?” She asked, running her fingers along the edges of the cards, overlooking each of the numbers, letters, and pictures displayed on the surface. Every now and again peering up to gaze back up at him.  

“I guess you could say it’s something like that. How am I doing so far?”

His grin felt almost infectious. She could feel the corners of her own lips forming into a smile at the look of genuine elation on his features.

“I believe you’re doing just fine, Nyx.” She paused, pulling out a card from her hand and waving it the air in a taunting manner. “But I warn you now, I don’t intend to lose so easily. I may not be as well acquainted with this game as much as I used to, so no going easy on the likes of me.”

Nyx’s expression looked absolutely excited, grinning from ear to ear at the way she was egging him on.

“You talk a big game, confidence looks good on you.” He did as she did and readied a card to be played with a sly pull of his lips.  

“What’s a princess without a little bit of confidence.”

“Well, this soldier isn’t too keen on losing, princess.”

“Nor do I, glaive.”

Luna proceeded by placing her card down in the middle with an exhilarated glint in her eyes, admiring the way a light chuckle fled from his lips at their declaration of a challenge at cards. Sure it was rather simplistic, but the stakes were held high, and the prize wavered on her mind. She intended to win at all costs, her mind rested on the thought of playing with a couple tricks up her sleeves, but thought against it. She leaned more towards playing tactfully and amicably.  

She maneuvered herself to slip her bare feet underneath her and sit on her knees, hands resting on her lap with the cards in hand. She carefully looked over to try to guess his next action, watching as his hands meticulously skimmed each one, and plucking the chosen card from his pile and placing it with the rest.

The game went on for some time, with Nyx throwing a side remark over her standing in the game, but it made no difference to break her resolve and throw back a remark of her own to counteract it. So far, he was in the clearing, a far ways ahead of her in his chances to win the game. He was good, she could admit to that. He had experience that she felt was unmatched, well, until the next card she pulled was like a gift from the Astrals themselves.

It was her saving grace.

The smirk that had stuck to Nyx’s face the entire game would be shattered upon realizing what her cards held in store for his pride. And she had to resist the urge to smugly grin back at him.

“Well, looks like this game already has a determined victor, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t go determining the wins or losses just yet,” she said, glancing down at her hand, and then back to him. “Show me your hand, and then we’ll see if your confidence wavers or not.”

He scoffed, puffing out his chest slightly when he fixed his sitting position by sitting up straighter. “I’ve never lost a game before, and I’m certainly not going to lose now. Gotta keep up my perfect record.”

He placed his cards right side up, showing to her the high ranking numbers across the surface of the paper cards. “I think my confidence is in the right place.”

She couldn’t help but feel impressed over the hand he displayed, surely it was worth that confidence in every respect, but her’s was far more mightier in terms of royal figures.

“A straight flush, is it? I hate to quell your fire over your victory, but I’m afraid I must steal the winnings from you.”

She revealed the appearance behind her cards, and in an instant, the smirk transformed into a look of pure and utter shock. His mouth agape, hanging open in pure wonderment.

“How did you manage to get a royal flush? What kind of beginner’s luck do you have?” He questioned with his voice a little louder than it usually was, cracking around the edges towards the end. Nyx looked at the princess for an answer, an answer she knew he craved to know, and it only made her giggle when he kept looking down at the cards in denial.

She cleared her throat a second later, her giggles quieting into silent breaths of air. She wouldn’t mind seeing this side of him more often.

“I believe my prize is in order. You lost fair and square.” Another hushed giggle leaving her lips when she noticed him grumbling under his breath and crossing his arms in defiance.

“Yeah, yeah. I still can’t believe I lost to a newbie, but at least it was you, Luna. You played well, better than any person I played against.”

She smiled in appreciation, nodding in agreeance. “Tis all but in the cards, I just went with what was presented to me.”

He grinned. “‘Course you did, I wouldn’t expect any less of you. Now, about that prize…”

He tapped a finger against his stubbled chin, eyes seemingly fixated elsewhere trying to come up with the perfect prize fit for the princess. He didn’t have anything of materialistic value, but what he did have, were a couple humorous tales to share, hoping that that would be enough.

“It’s probably not the best prize, but I can tell you of some silly shenanigans that went on within the Kingsglaive headquarters?” He paused a moment, clearing his throat. “Specifically speaking, embarrassing memories.”

She raised a brow. “Embarrassing memories you say? Do tell, I am most intrigued.”

“If you say so,” he chucked, preparing himself mentally for the tale and lifting up a finger in explanation. “Rule number one of being around the glaives at the headquarters is to never pass out in the lounge, ever. I learned that the hard way during our early days in training.”

She nodded, prodding him to continue.

“It was after a strenuous day of not just working our asses off trying to prove ourselves to Drautos during our training, but after a long night of guard duty without even a wink of sleep. So Crowe, Libertus, Pelna, and I were all going to head out for some food after briefing on the latest mission that was coming up, but I was just too damn tired. I told them I was only going to take a short nap… Big mistake. Next thing you know, I wake up the next morning with a black ring around my eye, with the names ‘Lady Killer’ and ‘The Hero’ written across my forehead and cheeks in permanent marker.”

“That’s, um--” Try as she might, but she couldn’t help the bubbling laughter that spilled out from her lips seconds later. She tried to remain respectful over his dilemma, but it was no use. And the look of embarrassment began to wash over Nyx’s face like he had just gotten a terrible sunburn, the flush reaching past his cheeks, and racing down his neck.

“I-I had that stuck to my face for a week! A week! Do you know how hard it is to wash permanent marker off your skin? Not fun!”

“P-Please, stop, I can’t--” More peals of laughter wracked over her body, clutching onto her stomach to help sustain herself from falling over. She looked at him through teary eyes from the amount of laughing she was doing, seeing as he was crossing his arms with a stern look, as his flustered state turned into one of enjoyment. It started off as a choked up snort, but quickly turned into the same type of laughter she was expressing.

“How are you feeling now? Any better? I know it was kinda lame, but I hope it helped settle your anxieties.”

She wiped away a stray tear with her fingertip, her resounding giggles quieting little by little. “I’m feeling significantly better thanks to you, Nyx. I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard and friend like you.”  

“Glad to be of service.” He grinned, his own laughter being stifled into the quiet, and motioning with a hand to do a short bow from his sitting position on the bed. Resulting in another giggle to flee her lips at his gesture.

The weariness that had been settling like a heavyweight on her chest that evening had begun to lessen, though she still couldn’t shake off the one nagging thought that ran rampant in the recesses of her mind. She knew that once the sun began to rise in the sky above Lestallum, they would have to make their departure to the Disc of Cauthess, so that she could perform her duties as Oracle. At the end of that day, that was what she was--Oracle to the people to help cure the sick from their scourge, and awaken the Astrals to aid Noctis in his journey to see the Prophecy be fulfilled. Even if it was but a moment of quiet with someone she cared about, she was happy in that moment of peace.

Nyx’s stirring in front of her startled her from her thoughts, surprised to see that he had shifted along the mattress to edge closer to her. His hand resting against her forearm, rubbing soothing circles atop her clothed arm with the warmth of his fingertips seeping into the fabric.

“Hey…”

The concern in his tone made her heart drop, and only then had she realized the sudden tension in her muscles begin to lock up. Everything was fine just moments ago, weren’t they? Why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable, scared, and lost. It was at the realization that she would never truly be able to have a normal life is what hit her the hardest.

She didn’t say a word, nor did she shed a single tear. Even as she felt her eyes burn and begin to grow misty, she relented and stopped herself from showing him such a weak side to her with a shaky intake of breath. She wanted to remain a pillar of light for those who were lost in the darkness, a shoulder to cry on, she wanted to be strong. But in that moment alone, she didn’t know what to feel.

“Come here.”

Nyx wordlessly pulled the shaky princess into a soft embrace, his arms wrapping around her petite frame almost protectively as a hand reached up to brush through her light blonde hair.

“I’m here for you. I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her face nudged further into the crook of his neck, with her hands cautiously wrapping around to grip at the back of his Kingsglaive uniform. He felt so warm, and she wanted ever so much to clutch onto his warmth and never let go.

Why did he have to be so kind?

“I assure you that I’ll be fine… Perfectly fine.” Her voice wavered with every word, trying to stop her lip from trembling.

“You don’t have to act so strong around me.” Nyx leaned in a little closer, kissing the top of her head. “You can let it out.”

At his words, her walls that were holding her up, completely shattered. The tears poured down her cheeks at an alarming rate, far faster than she could go to wipe them away. So she cried. She cried fiercely into his jacket. Her entire body being wracked with uncontrollable sobs, as she gripped even further onto him. All of her worries, her insecurities, her duties; came rushing at her all at once. After holding it in for so long of suffering with the weight of her responsibilities, it brought her some solace to know that she didn’t always have to hide her scars. Hide her fears.

Knowing that she had somebody like Nyx at her side to brave through it all.

Her insoluble sobs halt the slightest at the gentle hums that she hears come from him. It’s a slow and gentle sound, one that is foreign to the likes of her own ears. She remembers hearing countless melodies when she was younger, held in the arms of her mother during stormy nights such as these, and hearing her mother hum a common Tenebraen lullaby. But this was different. Something about his voice, his tone, made her quivering shoulders still.

“What is that song?” She quietly asks, her hands tentatively smoothing out against the back of his uniform.

His humming ceases, and she feels guilty for making him stop mid melody.

“It’s an old Galahadian lullaby that my mother used to sing to me when I was a kid. It always helped me when I couldn’t sleep at night. And along the line when my sister Selena was born, I’d sing the exact same lullaby to her. Even as she got older, she’d come into my room and ask me to sing it to her. Something about me singing it better or what not?”

“I’d have to agree with your sister on that one. You have quite the lovely singing voice, or rather I should say humming voice? If that is not odd for me to say so.”

Nyx lets out a hearty laugh, and she can feel it vibrate against her head that is pressed close to his chest. And there’s something strangely addictive about his laugh that makes her quell the sadness that was harboring deep in her chest, as she lets out a laugh of her own.

“It’s not, in fact, Selena used to say something similar.” He adds, a hint of a smile in his voice. “And I bet she’s up there right now giving you her seal of approval.”

A light bit of laughter fled from her lips at his comment, making her begin to wonder what type of person his sister was? From his previous brief depictions of her, and the picture of his mother and sister that although a little tattered, still displayed the warm smiles of his late sister, along with his mother.

Luna began to settle further into his warm embrace, feeling her nerves begin to ease and the tears to surrender completely. And with a soothing yet gentle tone, she began to speak once more.

“I wish I could’ve had the chance to meet her.”

Nyx’s form froze a bit at her comment, not being able to see the hints of lingering sadness hidden within the blue of his irises. His hold on her tightening a little, but not enough where it was uncomfortable.

With a shaky sigh, he spoke of his response. “I wish you could’ve been able to meet her too. Selena did have quite the obsession with fairy tales about princes and princesses, so meeting a real life princess would’ve been a dream come true to her.”

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to see that wish is fulfilled.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” He mumbled out with a low chuckle.

Luna couldn’t begin to describe the amount of heartache Nyx must’ve gone through in his life, or over the loss of his sister, his homeland? She understood all too well what it was like to lose someone she loved dearly. Her own mother was an example of that. But to lose your homeland along with the people you care about, that was another thing entirely. The meaning of a home had become just as a foreign thing as it has been for him for a very long while.

And right now, home felt like this. Wrapped in the comforting embrace of her glaive companion.

His warmth was more than comforting, more so than anything she’d ever felt before… But by the astrals, she couldn’t let him quietly suffer alone either. She believed that maybe by words alone wouldn’t suffice enough, so she did the only thing she could do. Unfurling her fingers from the minor grip she still retained on his jacket, she moved them towards the front of his chest, letting them settle there. Her head coming up to peer into his eyes, eyes that seemed to be looking at her, but at the same time, looked as if they were looking elsewhere, distracted.    

“Nyx,” she called out to him in the same gentle tone she had been using for most of the evening, managing to strike his attention back to her with a raise of his brow at her suddenly close proximity. She payed no mind to his confusion, and instead, rose her head up further to connect her lips with the the small tattoo that laid beneath his eye. She knew it was wrong of her by all accounts to do so, but she threw caution to the wind during the quiet they shared. “Thank you, Nyx.”

Nyx blinked back at the Oracle a couple of times, unsure as to what had really just transpired. Confusion written across his complexion for a couple of seconds before his features softened, smiling warmly back up at her.

“You’re welcome, Luna.”

Luna couldn’t help but feel captivated by the warmth in his gaze, locked on the calming blue peering back at her with the gentle pull of his lips into a grin. It made her unintentionally run her fingers further up the front of his jacket, wanting to let her fingers linger for longer against his tattoos, scars, maybe hold a braid of his between her fingers once again, but resisted against the urge.

Though it seemed as if Nyx’s own intentions weren’t too far off from that of Luna’s, as he was beginning to move closer to her. His hands had slid up from the comforting hold he had wrapped around his waist, and all the way up to rest against her shoulders.

Just when their faces began to inch a touch closer to the other, Luna pulled back in one abrupt motion. It just wasn’t right. But then again, tonight was a night to pretend to be someone she was not, or maybe, maybe it didn’t have to be, she thought.

Nyx yet again stared at her rather perplexed, suddenly broken out of whatever mood or spell the both of them were under.

“Nyx…” Luna quietly mumbled out, eyes gazing elsewhere that wasn’t at his face, for she couldn’t stop the flush from suddenly colouring her cheeks at the thought of what could’ve happened if she just let herself indulge in the moment. “I have something I wanted to ask you… If you will humor me?”

She heard him hum in response, rubbing at her shoulders with his hands in an effort to comfort her.

“I was thinking, what if it didn’t have to be a dream? What if we could make this a reality.”

“What do you mean by that?” His voice sounded a little more serious than he intended it too, but still retained bits of concern.

Luna cleared her throat, breathing out a long breath before she turned her gaze back to him to witness the look in his eyes. Something she regarded as unreadable.

“What I mean to say is that, I want to view the world through my own eyes. I’m constantly running after a duty that I’ve had ever since I was young, maybe even something I was destined to be at birth, but now, now I’m afraid. I don’t want my responsibilities as the Oracle to be all that I am. I want a chance at freedom, to know what being liberated tastes like. Because…” Luna’s gaze is resolute, moving her hands down to grip at his calloused hands in between her own slender fingers and squeezing lightly. “Because I’ve been trapped inside of a cage for so long that I forgot what it was like to experience true peace, happiness, laughter, even friendship. I forgot it all because being the Oracle has stripped every little piece of humanity I had.”

Nyx continues to stare at her rather flabbergasted by her words, and can only squeeze back at her hands in response. He knows well enough what having a duty does to your own well-being, hell, he may not know what being the Oracle completely entails, but that won’t stop him from trying to understand her pain. The pain he never knew she had been harboring for so long. She does so much for the people of Eos, and what does she get in return? A sentence that is far worse than death. And it’s unfair.

“I’m tired of running, tired of responsibilities that have solely revolved around seeing the prophecy be fulfilled… The astrals may rain down chaos upon me if they so wish at my defiance to not comply to aid Noctis, but I want to live. For how long that is is uncertain. But I know that I want to experience it for once. So please, my dear glaive--no, my companion. Aid me in this troubled girls request at a second chance at life, however foolish she may be.”

All she can see from the reaction in Nyx’s expression is the furrow of his brows, a brief sigh and a hand coming up to comb back his hair with his fingers in thought. His lips remaining in a firm line.

“Are you sure this is what you really want, Luna?”

She nods vigorously, bringing his hands close to her chest and letting them rest there. “It’s more than I’ve ever wanted in life. I’ve never asked for anything… I’ve constantly been giving rather than receiving anything in return, so yes, I am sure of what it is that I desire.”

The thin line begins to shift into something of a warm smile, a smile that has the faintest hint of a smirk forming.

“Then what are we waiting for? I say we leave this place in the morning and see where the wind takes us.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock at his words. He wasn’t angry with her? Along their journey thus far, it had always been about Oracle and Glaive. Duty and Sacrifice. Sure the topic of living a peaceful life came up once or twice, but never in an instance where they really methodically discussed it.

“Are you sure of this?”

“More than sure. I go where you go, so if you want to start off new, fresh? I’ll follow along with you.” Nyx leans in a little closer, kneeling his forehead against hers. “Besides, we deserve a little down time.”

A smile pulled at her lips, angling her face so that her lips were mere inches apart from his. “Then, come morning, we’ll depart. Wherever the wind shall take us.”

Nyx’s lips ghosted over hers, feeling the wide grin spread across his face when he pressed his lips to hers softly. Luna more than greedily relished in the moment, intertwining her fingers between the spaces of his calloused fingers and eagerly kissing him back. The gentle tap of rain water against the glass, and the glittering lights of Lestallum being the only thing that resounded as they lost themselves to each others warmth. Letting the world around them become a distant memory.

The dawn would break soon, and they’d wake up entangled in blankets and limbs with soft smiles gracing their features. No longer afraid of daybreak to put a dreary weight on their minds or hearts, but inspiring them to venture forward and brave through another day.

Nyx had all he ever needed, the strong minded Oracle at his side to brighten his path. As well as Luna, she had her valiant glaive alongside her to harbor whatever the world of Eos decided to throw at her.

Fate wasn’t going to be pulling the strings on their roles any longer, because they’d face it, together. Shaping the world as they both see fit.

[fading-ronin]

Changing the Future - A Final Fantasy XV AU

So after playing Comrades and going through the upcoming content, I had something in mind for the Hero of Galahd, Nyx Ulric. I didn’t think it was fair that he had to lose his life while Ignis and Ravus only lost a piece of themselves, so... 

This is my attempt to change his fate. 

If you guys like it, I’ll post a second chapter! The other characters will come in through later chapters if I continue.

Description: After his death within Insomnia, Nyx Ulric had been granted access to the afterlife, meeting with his loved ones and old friends. However, a certain Astral has plans for the Glaive, one of which will change the course of history... Forever. Characters: Nyx Ulric, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia, Ardyn Izunia, and more.  Word Count: 2,441 Rating: PG 

It had been much too long in a world without the laughter of children. The plentiful youth bounding about the land with joy brimming throughout every fiber of their being. Parents remained vigilant, of course, but nonetheless wore their smiles with pride. They too shared this elated feeling of contentment with their offspring. How couldn't they? The sun lingered high above the planet of Eos, basking the world with it's yellow rays. This only complimented the color of the sky which had brightened to the lightest of blues due to the intensity of the star above. There had been no sign of cloud formation whatsoever. It was a perfect day. 

Galahd was known for its beauty. The rivers that trailed through the formations of terrain were the perfect scenic locations for building a home...

Or even opening up a small bar. 

Sitting behind the counter was a man worthy of many things. A selfless being who would throw himself to the winds in order to protect those he had cared about. One who had given his life for the sake of the future. A protector of the light. Sapphire hues gazed upwards to focus on four women sitting at a table a few feet away from him. He had been diligently cleaning the counter top while watching them all laugh with every joyous comment they make. It was peaceful. At this table, starting from left to right, sat a woman with a messy bun. Her caramel eyes shone with a certain brilliance, this only complimenting her fair features by more than a million. This was Crowe Altius, his comrade in the Kingsglaive as well as one of his closest friends. On her left sat two women, both looking very similar to one another aside from the youngest one wearing a headdress without the veil. These two were his mother and sister, Elena and Selene, who both were ecstatic to be reunited with the man once again. Their reunion was... More than anyone could've expected. There were tears on both ends of the spectrum. But now, we move on to the fourth, one who was never really a resident of Galahd. Much like Crowe herself, who grew up on the outskirts of Insomnia. However... This one was of royalty. 

Sitting with the most perfect posture possible sat the princess of Tenebrae. Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. Her beautiful blonde hair rested in its normal style with her attire consisting of a striking white dress glistening with a sort of radiance...

Like an angel. 

The Glaive couldn't have asked for anything more. Everything was in place. There was no more worries of Lucis coming under attack from Niflheim. No more worrying over peace treaties and loss. No pain. No suffering. This was what Nyx had been longing for for the longest time. All of his regrets had washed away with the revelation that he could stand beside him family once more. However, his thoughts had gotten the best of him, as soon after he had lost himself within such a happiness did a head-splitting ache burst through his mind. Releasing a gasp of pain, all eyes soon settled on him, and soon enough the four women surrounded him. 

"Nyx, what's wrong??" His mother had called, doing her best to give him space, yet failed due to her maternal instincts. Her hands instinctively moved to grasp his cheeks and await an answer from the individual. 

The episode lasted for what felt like hours. Images flashed through his mind in a rapid order, them consisting of: a strange island with even stranger curls, people wearing the garb of the Kingsglaive, and what looked like the Draconian of Legend. He had stood in the midst of a large courtyard littered with the blades of warriors. His large golden blades had hovered behind him, only increasing the intensity that his being had given off, his large blue hues gazing down at the male behind his helmet. 

Protector of the Light, you are required to walk among the living... 

After he had said these words, the pain had subsided, leaving him in a cold sweat kneeling before the company within the bar. All held alerted expressions until he had finally gazed up to them, nodding his head slowly before easing up to his feet, having both Selena and Elena aid him up to his feet. They were obviously awaiting an explanation from him, whether it be from the slight analytical quirks in their expressions or the actual fear of what he had just endured. Once he was settled to his feet, he released his breath, reeling his mind to keep what had just occurred at the forefront of his mind. 

"I don't know what happened... What caused it... I just saw some images and heard a voice... Not sure why. Must've been just flashes from being... Y'know."  Nyx had tried to explain the best that one possibly could about what he'd seen. But... Truth be told, he didn't know much himself. He could tell they didn't buy it judging by their expressions. However, Lunafreya stepped forward, placing her hand on Nyx's shoulder before offering a nod. 

"Why don't you go outside for a moment? Take a breath." Her words were gentle, soothing with every word, leaving Nyx eased from the pain he previously felt. She always had that effect. She was the Oracle, of course, and her duty was to heal the wounded. Was she using his power upon him, he did not know, but he only knew he would follow her advice. Slipping on his jacket he would leave the inside of the bar to go stand by the river. It had always raised his spirits when he was younger. Perhaps it would do it now. 

As he made his walk, he took sight of the scenery, the orange star above casting an ethereal glow upon the terrain below, leaving a cacophony of chirping or scuttles from the animal life that dwelt within the woodlands. Upon entering the clearing, a smile instantly graced his lips, watching the swaying stream trickle down the rocks in the softest of manners. The soothing sounds of what felt like home ringing about within his drums in the most sensual of ways. No matter where he could be, should thoughts of this scene ever appear in his head, he can always find peace somewhere within it. It was tranquility in pure form. No other sight could really beat it. 

Removing his boots with a few quick movements, he would place them neatly against a rock beside his jacket, making his way over towards the water with a hum vibrating throughout his being. The liquid was warmed when his toes had brushed against it. One step, two steps, three.. Soon he found himself within the middle of the river. It wasn't too deep, only reaching up to his knees, just below the cuffs of his lower article of clothing. Bending down, his hands cupped the blue entity, raising it up to coat his face within it. He repeated the process a few times before standing upward with a few flicks of his hands. But when he looked up he hadn't the faintest clue of where he stood. 

The scenery that had brought him so much comfort had dissolved within a variety of an unknown visage. The lightest of blues had swirled about him, small flecks of purity tranced around the atmosphere. Strange swirling lines had coated the vision of the young Glaive, confused and curious by the scene before him. However, he could feel there was another presence, like someone was watching him... And that answer had appeared much quickly than he had anticipated. 

He had recognized whom this being was due to the insignia that had resided upon his jackets shoulder. An image of the Draconian, Bahamut, standing (or was he floating?) high and mighty with his sword in hand. He was pure power trapped within a living entity. Terrifying, really. Nyx was... Speechless, so to speak. How had he arrived here? Why had he? Before he could ask, the Astral spoke, his voice booming with authority. 

O, He who bartered with the Lucii of Old, The Chosen King has entered the Crystal to replete the sacred ring. However, the King of Kings is lost without the light of the Oracle. Taken by the Accursed was she, and to redeem her soul, The Light of Lucis must return to the world beneath Paradisum, to redirect the blade that cut short this thread of fate. As you gave your life to protect the future of our star, you must now journey back to protect it once more. Only by the hand of the Light of Lucis may this be done. 

Silence lingered in the air the moment he finished. His reflective blue orbs scanned the shrunken Glaive, as if awaiting for any questions based upon these new revelations. Nyx couldn't have believed what he heard from one of the Six. He had never believed in this sort of stuff. The Astrals or the Lucii, none of it, but how could he have denied it when he's seen both of them now? He had many questions he desired to ask. But he needed to choose carefully. From how Bahamut had spoken, this was something he would not be able to escape. 

"You're talking about saving Lunafreya from her death? She told me she died in Altissia a long while back... How is this even possible?"

The Crystal's power is not bound to the realm you see before you.Time is but a construct, a construct the Crystal may use at will, bent by the hand of I, the Draconian. 

"Once--If, I manage to save her, what becomes of me? Do I come back?"

The Light of Lucis shall not fail, as He who crossed the plane of life, the embrace of Death shall pursue Him no further. As tribute to one's sacrifice to safeguard the future, He shall remain to ensure the King of Kings reaches his Ascension. Once this happens, the Light may enter Paradisum once more.

". . . Alright, if that's the case, will I have my powers?"

The Power of Kings resides within. So long as the Chosen King and the Oracle draw breath, may the Light of Lucis hold the strength to serve his duty, so is the revelation of Bahamut. 

Before Nyx had the chance to say anything more, he could feel the floor beneath him disappear from beneath him, his eyes focused upon the leader of the Six in all of glory. Even then, his image began to fade, and the ethereal glow that surrounded him had faded away to be replaced with a solid baby blue color. Wind had whipped through his hair and ears, two purple ribbons flowing forth from his left shoulder. He quickly twisted his body to find himself falling straight towards an an ocean of crystal blue covered in Imperial carriers. But that wasn't the craziest part. 

That title was reserved for what seemed like cyclone of water floating around a giant blue dragon. 

This was Altissia. It had to be. Bahamut had sent him back like he said, so Nyx couldn't doubt that he was sent to protect Lunafreya. To make sure she doesn't enter the afterlife. There wasn't time to guess anymore. This was his duty.

Time to get to work. 

Quickly, the male reached back to remove one of his kukri, shooting a look to his left to launch it towards the crumbling building pieces floating high above the typhoon. If she was going to be anywhere, it had to be where that dragon was at. She had a knack for drawing all sorts of attention. Might as well stick to that little factoid. 

"Alright, let's hope I'm not rusty!" Nyx exclaimed before launching his weapon forward focusing upon appearing where it was once it was far enough. In a split second, he was covered in a veil of luminescent blue, grasping his blade with a loud proud yell. He couldn't help but feel giddy to be doing this once again. This was his passion before he passed before, and to think that he could do it again... He couldn't be happier. The second throw had sent it even farther, this time finding his target within a crevice created within the bricks. Once he appeared, he took hold, using all of his strength to hold him up while he searched around for his target. 

But in his search he saw something his mind failed to process. At this point, he should begin to be more open minded. His Prince, Noctis Lucis Caelum, floated before this massive beast within an aura of blue surrounded by a multitude of weapons. He was fighting this thing! He could see the rippling explosions charge throughout the lengthy body of the mighty creature. But as it seemed to be in his favor, Noctis released a mighty barrage, watching the beast be sent crashing back within the waves. 

Nyx cheered, "hell yeah, your Majesty!" But he couldn't celebrate long. He could hear the waves rumbling and he still had no idea where Lunafreya was. Quickly looking for his charge, he sought all over the wreckage, soon finding an object in white holding some sort of- Of course that was her. Why would he even guess? Kicking off the wall with his weapon in hand, he would warp forward towards the woman, not seeing this so called Accursed anywhere. He couldn't have been wrong.

Before he could warp again, the waves erupted once more, Leviathan screeching out and charging the Prince. It seemed the large attack had weakened the boy enough to leave him vulnerable to the attack. Nyx had received a small portion of the backlash, tumbling slightly from the air due to the rush of water that occurred. He wouldn't be buried beneath these waves. Shooting his dagger forward, he warped once more, falling high above what appeared to be an altar. And it was there he found who he was to stop. 

The Chancellor of Niflheim.

He had been leisurely strolling over towards the crumpled princess. She had been in a coughing fit and, judging by his moving lips, he was monologuing. Typical. With one quick throw of his weapon, he had watched his kukri soar, landing before the woman in a puff of smoke and magic. Each set of eyes fell upon him, one of joy while the other was a concoction of both anger and curiosity. 

"Sorry I'm late, princess, you forgot to send me an invitation."

[bigyack-com]

California Is Booming. Why Are So Many Californians Unhappy?

SAN FRANCISCO — Christine Johnson, a public-finance consultant with an engineering degree, was running for a seat on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. She crisscrossed her downtown district talking about her plans to stimulate housing construction, improve public transit and deal with the litter of “needles and poop” that have become a common sight on the city’s sidewalks.Today, a year after losing the race, Ms. Johnson, who had been in the Bay Area since 2004, lives in Denver with her husband and 4-year-old son. In a recent interview, she spoke for millions of Californians past and present when she described the cloud that high rent and child-care costs had cast over her family’s savings and future. “I fully intended San Francisco to be my home and wanted to make the neighborhoods better,” she said. “But after the election we started tallying up what life could look like elsewhere, and we didn’t see friends in other parts of the country experiencing challenges the same way.”California is at a crossroads. The state has a thriving $3 trillion economy with record low unemployment, a surplus of well-paying jobs, and several of the world’s most valuable corporations, including Apple, Google and Facebook. Its median household income has grown about 17 percent since 2011, compared with about 10 percent nationally, adjusted for inflation. But California also has a pernicious housing and homeless problem and an increasingly destructive fire season that is merely a preview of climate change’s potential effects. Corporations like Charles Schwab are moving their headquarters elsewhere, while Oracle announced that it would no longer stage its annual software conference in San Francisco, in part because of the city’s dirty streets. “Shining example or third-world state?” a recent headline on a local news website asked. “You get depressed if you listen to everything going on, but you can’t find a contractor and the state continues to create jobs,” said Ed Del Beccaro, an executive vice president with TRI Commercial Real Estate Services, a brokerage and property management company in the Bay Area. Whether it’s by taming bays and mountains with roads, bridges and power lines or grappling with a lack of water and crippling earthquakes, California is perennially testing the limits of growth. Its population has swelled to 40 million and the state’s economy has grown more than previous generations had thought possible, cramming more cars and more people into cities that were supposed to be tapped out, while seeding new companies and new industries as old ones died or moved elsewhere. But today it has a new problem. For all its forward-thinking companies and liberal social and environmental policies, the state has mostly put higher-value jobs and industries in expensive coastal enclaves, while pushing lower-paid workers and lower-cost housing to inland areas like the Central Valley. This has made California the most expensive state — with a median home value of $550,000, about double that of the nation — and created a growing supply of three-hour “super commuters.” And while it has some of the highest wages in the country, it also has the highest poverty rate based on its cost of living, an average of 18.1 percent from 2016 to 2018. That helps explain why the state has lost more than a million residents to other states since 2006, and why the population growth rate for the year that ended July 1 was the lowest since 1900.“What’s happening in California right now is a warning shot to the rest of the country,” said Jim Newton, a journalist, historian and lecturer on public policy at the University of California, Los Angeles. “It’s a warning about income inequality and suburban sprawl, and how those intersect with quality of life and climate change.” You can see this in California economic forecasts for 2020, which play down the threat of a global trade war and play up the challenge of continuing to add jobs without affordable places for middle- and lower-income workers to live. You can see it in the Legislature, which has raised the minimum wage, and next year is poised to debate a bill that could reshape the state by essentially forcing cities to allow multistory buildings near transit stops. You also can see it in the stories of people like Ms. Johnson and other highly educated workers who have gone elsewhere. For Bryan Diffenderfer, leaving was about acquiring financial breathing room. Mr. Diffenderfer is a 36-year-old native Californian who until recently worked in sales and lived in a 1,200-square-foot townhouse in a Bay Area suburb with his wife and 2-year-old daughter. They had the means to buy a bigger home, but the mortgage payment would have been overwhelming. They bought a five-bedroom house outside Indianapolis for about $500,000, and Mr. Diffenderfer quit his job to work for his wife, who runs an ad-supported fashion blog and social media business.“I love California, but you hear about people who are cash-poor because they have to invest so much in their house,” he said. “Moving gave me the flexibility to leave my job and go into our family’s business.”

The Tech Crunch

A decade ago, California was mired in the Great Recession along with the rest of the nation. Unemployment was 12 percent, the state had a yawning budget gap and foreclosures were bad enough that skateboarders were rejoicing at the surplus of empty swimming pools. Far from lamenting the influence of tech companies, San Francisco extended tax breaks to get them to stay. When growth picked up, driven by a once-in-a-generation tech boom that accompanied the proliferation of social media and the widespread adoption of smartphones, California became the foremost example of an innovation economy. Start-ups pitched themselves as the Uber of X, while cities promoted themselves as the Silicon Valley of Y.But the underlying fault lines were still there. Rents and home prices stayed high, especially in the coastal areas where job and income growth was strongest. As the economy picked up and housing costs resumed their rise, lower-paid service and professional workers moved to distant exurbs, while homelessness spiraled to the point that local political leaders are all but declaring they are out of solutions.Elected officials in Los Angeles have urged the governor, Gavin Newsom, to declare a state of emergency over homelessness, while the governor is in turn telling the federal government that a state with a $215 billion annual budget cannot solve this on its own. But President Trump has belittled California’s homelessness problem and repeatedly sought to punish the state, whose 55 electoral votes went to Hillary Clinton in 2016. With their traffic and trash, California’s biggest cities have gone from the places other regions tried to emulate to the places they’re terrified of becoming.There are increasing complaints in Oregon, Nevada and Idaho that rents and home prices there are being pushed up by new arrivals fleeing California. A recent election in Boise, Idaho, was seen as a referendum on California-style growth. And Oregon’s decision to essentially ban single-family house neighborhoods has been billed by lawmakers as a bold intervention to pull the state away from a California-like trajectory.People have short memories, of course, and as soon as there is another recession, the focus of Californians and their leaders is bound to turn from the strains of growth to creating jobs. From 2009 to 2011, in the aftermath of the last recession, the poverty rate reached 23.5 percent. “A decade ago they were cutting school funding and social services,” said Stephen Levy, director of the Center for Continuing Study of the California Economy. “There are people injured by prosperity, but obviously a recession is more damaging to most people.”

Embrace of the Robot Arms

For now, voters and businesses are less concerned about where growth will come from and more concerned with figuring out how to address its discontents. In a recent poll, by the Public Policy Institute of California, homelessness was tied with the economy as voters’ top concern, the first time it has been a top issue in the 20-year life of the survey. Another survey by the institute showed that almost half of Californians have considered leaving because of high housing costs.Restaurants and other businesses are hiring fewer workers than they might because they can’t find enough people who can afford local housing costs. It’s also an issue for giant technology companies like Apple, Google and Facebook, which have pledged a total of $4.5 billion to build subsidized housing.Greg Biggs is adding more machines and moving jobs to cheaper locations. Mr. Biggs is the chief executive of Vander-Bend Manufacturing, a company in San Jose that makes metal products including surgical components and racks where data centers store computer servers. Vander-Bend has doubled its head count over the past five years, to about 900 employees, and pays $17 to $40 an hour for skilled technicians who need training but not a college degree. This is precisely the sort of middle-income job needed in the Bay Area, which like many urban areas is bifurcating into an economy of high-wage knowledge jobs and low-wage service jobs. The problem is he can’t find enough workers. The unemployment rate in San Jose is around 2 percent, and many of Vander-Bend’s employees already commute two or more hours to work. To compensate, Mr. Biggs has bought several van-size robot arms that pull metal panels from a pile then stamp them flush, bend their edges and assemble them into racks. He has opened a second location 75 miles away in Stockton, where labor and housing costs are a lot lower.This is in most ways a success story. Vander-Bend is raising wages and training workers. The machines aren’t replacing jobs but instead make them more efficient, and the company is bringing higher-wage positions to a region that needs more of them. But for workers, even substantial income gains are being offset by rising costs.A decade ago Manuel Curiel made $22 an hour as a production worker at Vander-Bend. Today he is 37 and, after several promotions, makes a six-figure salary. Almost anywhere else, that would be a shining example of how the longest economic expansion on record is reaching more workers, including those, like Mr. Curiel, who dropped out of high school. But this good-news story comes with a catch. In the decade that Mr. Curiel’s salary tripled, the rent on his family’s small two-bedroom apartment in Santa Clara more than tripled, from a little over $600 to more than $2,200, including a 35 percent increase one year. He has since joined Vander-Bend in moving about 80 miles east to Manteca, near the factory in Stockton, where he lives in a house offering more space for about the same rent. Ben Casselman contributed reporting from New York. Read the full article

[dunmerofskyrim]

36

A picture. Picture it.

The Thief steals into the eastern sky and the dawn breaks fast on its stars. In pink and blue, they are the first to drown. And then its attendant stars, and then the whole east.

Colour comes back into the world. It pearls and sapphires on the distant sea. Firstlight and frost shiver on another closer ocean and I sit on its shores. The roofs of Old Ebonheart, blue-black and beginning to glitter.

My knees are hugged to my chest. I am swaddled in all the clothes I own and shivering even so. Coat and mantle of goatskin; motley scarf hooded over and round my head. I’m a son of Skyrim, of sorts, bastard though I might be. I ought to know better, for all I’ve known cold far worse. But I only ever learnt Dunmer ways to deal with Nordic winters. My mother always said to wrap my head and grease my ears else the tips would snap off. But I wonder now if I’d’ve been better served spending longer listening to how Nords weather the cold.

Harsh nightfrosts in Ebonheart now, and harsher all the time. Last night was stiff and stilled with cold, as if the air itself were frozen. The chatter and screak of nix sounded through the dark. And I strained my ears to hear them come closer, then fall away. And I strained my eyes to stare out through the blackness, hugging myself, and hugging myself, and dreaming the night full of things I dared not sleep for dreading.

But even if not for fear, hunger keeps me up, or else it’s the cold. The frost finds its way into every corner, and every fold of my clothing, and between every layer I wear. Quiet at first but louder with time, it makes hungry promises about my toes and fingers. A cold and carrion voice. If dawn wakes me, it’s up from a sleep scarce worth sleeping through. So I sit and watch the sky.

My shelter’s a tall warehouse tower. An island three storeys over everything else nearby. Old Ebonheart was a beautiful city at its height. You can tell that even from its ruins. Cut stone, brick, plaster polished to the sheen of an eggshell, or else painted and engraved. They must’ve thought this tower an eyesore even then. It’s built all of timber and creaks in the slightest breeze. A peaked roof with one corner full-collapsed before I ever got here, and the rest turfed thick with moss.  Some of the walls, too, creep with it. Black, blue-grey, cat-eye green; fur and algae. I like to think it crams the cracks in the walls that would elsewise let the draught in. It can’t be eaten so might as well earn its keep some other way. I give it the best of the doubt.

I sit amongst the cave-in of scattered wooden clinkers from the broken roof. They strew the floor around me. I look out the breach. Inside and all round me is ransack and wreckage. The shatter of boxes and disturbance of dust. I’m not the first to have been here. What was worth taking’s already been gutted. All that was left for me to take was all it had to give. Its emptiness — I laid claim to that a week ago, no ten days ago. In my journal I’ve begun to tally the days off into sevens. It feels a waste of paperspace, of ink, but what am I saving it for now? Tallies and notes. My botched attempts at sketchmaps. I don’t know that it’s much of a diary anymore. I make no records but memory.

Closer and closer the sun throws its light. I’ll move. Make something of the day. When the sun reaches me, then I’ll move. But it’s hard to imagine it. Hungry, limbs leaden with cold, brain slugging from both, it’s hard to imagine a future here. Just this sitting; this waiting for things to get better.

The tiles around my tower start to shimmer. It’s the failings in the stoneware slats that throw out the brightest light. The imperfections and faults, flickerflashing in glints of new colour. Salts, crystals, minerals — forgotten on this city’s roofs, except by the searching sun. And me maybe.

Outside the yurt that night, on the western edge of Senie, Simra lay awake with his thoughts. He was not pleased with his writing. At best it was joyless, like combing out tangles so bad that shears would’ve done the job better. At worst it felt like picking a scab until the old wound ran new red, and picking and picking on after.

He knew the blighted story, so why was it so hard to get straight? So far as how things wove themselves he knew most of all the answers. Winter in Old Ebonheart, and a hunger and a fear that both made a beast of him and made him feel like the only real person left in the world. Then the world seeming to fill as Spring melted the frosts. Other people, beating the beast out of him, with words and looks and living. Taming him again. The city feeling almost like a city. And the Few in Dyer’s End, and Caselif and all that came after.

Simra knew the story. That was rub enough for him: living as proof of it all. And if he was still writing just for himself then maybe it would be easier. But if not for himself then who was he writing for, and what was it he was writing? Memory or story. Truth or lie or legend. What had he done to warrant the latter? Nothing, he thought, and everything — a life full of all that’d filled it, and nothing much more. He’d be twenty-four in Evening Star. Another Evening Star. Why did Winters come round so often? Who writes a memoir at twenty-four?

Washed in red magelight, Simra leant on the spear he’d taken from the Vereansu they’d fought by the stream. Red and strange-grained wood; halfpoint of its haftlength wrapped in leather; iron head like some oracle’s mask or symbol, one spike leaning forwards, the other hooking back. The buttspike – a scribsticker they’d have called it in the South, but why would anyone want to stick a scrib? – was planted in the ground, rusted already and no doubt rusting further in the damp sod. Simra had told himself he’d sell the spear soon as it stopped being useful. It was a pain to walk or ride with; long and bulky, harder to wear than a sword, even with its carrying straps. But he’d not sold it yet.

The yurt behind him was full of sleeping. Tammunei’s breathing, every out and intake a sigh. Noor’s breathing, a loud silence. For all her charms and protections – the starless night sky overhead as she hid them – they’d been shot at this same evening. Ought to have someone on watch, he’d reckoned, and it might just as well be him.

They’d skirted round the townwalls as evening steeped into night. Soon as they came in bowshot, a clatter of arrows sheared down to tell them so. All but silent until they stuck black lines into the turf and sent the two guar rearing and shying. Warning shots, Simra reckoned, or else they’d have struck their marks. When he’d looked up to the walls he saw lights moving, hurrying atop them: a squabble of archers, debating another volley. Best to fall out of range again before they could reach a verdict.

The walls skirted all the way round. Senie was more fort than town, perched on high ground at the fork of two rivers. It made sense. A hardhold to guard the Plains from what lay east of them, and this valley from what lived on the plains. Something to play sentinel over all who’d ford the river here. What spoilt the sense of it all were the empty fields, the manned walls, the arrows from out the night sky. Closed gates, no doubt. What were they warding off?

They travelled as far in the dark as they dared and pitched camp beside the river. A haze of lights had shown gold in the distance, arrayed on the water’s far side. Trust in dawn to put the night’s happenings together, make sense of them, or so Simra had decided. But the night was too full of questions to let the answer of sleep suffice.

Simra’s mind fell and filled with noise. Like the sound of cicadas, harping senseless in a hot and Summer dark. He shifted his weight between the cold lumps of his booted feet. Almost laughed aloud. A helpless cough of almost-laughter. What kind of prick writes a memoir at twenty-four? It was embarrassing. Hard to tell what he wanted more: to write again, starting over, or to have never started at all.

Uprooting the spear, Simra walked a few pointless steps, then circled round the yurt. One of the guar reached its neck out long and twisted it to look back along its haunches with one cattle-gentle eye. It narrowed a slit pupil against his light; focused on him, then focused on nothing. A translucent lid veiled over its eye as it slipped partway into sleep. Simra wondered if it was still watching though, wary through the lid that clouded its eye more than closed it. A prey beast’s hunted half-sleep. Clever trick if you can do it, he thought. It’d save him his old trick with the kettle, the stone, the palm held closed around it, hanging ready above the other.

He’d asked once, and asked it to someone who ought to know: Why did Saint Vivec write the Sermons? He’d put on his best pious voice; the eager curiosity of ignorance. He’d gone by the name of Lyros then, and that was how Lyros spoke, at least to Meris. Sharp but unpolished, Lyros. Learning, but always humble enough to know there was more to learn. So why write the Sermons?

And Meris had said to him – to Lyros – Why write the Sermons at all, or why write them the way they are written?

Both, he’d said. It had been Spring then. The season’s high crux where Summer shows in at the seams of things, hot and turning the morning mists, heavy and warm as steam, to dust. But Meris’ library was a buried place, half-sunk beneath Suran, and even that afternoon it was cool, and full of the silence of books. Both, he’d said, and neither. Why did Saint Vivec write so much about himself, and so little of it believable?

Saint Vivec was a saint, Meris had answered. Do you know what a saint is? (Of course he knew what a blighted saint was, but she’d tell him anyway.) Someone, she’d said, who in death, is an ancestor not just to their line, but to all Dunmer of faith. Someone, she’d said, who led a life from which others would do well to learn.

Then why tangle it all up? Wrap all the facts in metaphor so tight their truths are muffled. Or hidden. The egg and the simulacrum? It can’t be true.

Vivec lies, Meris said with a shrug and patient smile. There are some in my order who’d say he tells falsehoods to hide the falseness of his godhead. I prefer a more clement reading. Vivec lies to remind the Dunmer of the lessons Black-Hands Mephala once taught us. Words define truth. Lies become stories, and how do we know the world except by tales we tell each other, and tales we tell ourselves? Vivec was born a wretched thing, and lowly. He knew that to be all he could, he would have to change what he had been.

So the Sermons… They change that, and they teach us about the power there is in doing so?

And Meris had answered: If you are to be born a ruling king of the world you must confuse it with new words. The sermons open with the egg, and they too are the egg. A rebirth.

Simra breathed on his fingers now and flexed them, stretching the stiffness from them. They fanned before his eyes. The outer blade of his right palm, bandaged, black with ink, and for what? To tell it aloud and abroad, singular and clear — hadn’t that been his intention, before he’d ever started this mess? But his past, too, was a mess of pasts, and the signs of his passing left in his wake were a scattered seeding of stories, reputations, rumours. The deeds of false names; false mer who’d looked a little like him, in the right light, the right place, the right time.

Bring it all together. Harvest what you’ve sown, Simra. Own it again. Be all you’ve been. Maybe you’ll even learn to live with it. Like flesh slowly swallows the splinter you can’t unstick if only you stop fucking picking at it. Let scab turn to scar.

He unwrapped the bandage on his hand. Outermost three fingers pale and bloodless; scarred to the knuckle and in streaks across his palm, above and below. Who writes a memoir at twenty-four? he thought again, and thought he knew the answer. Someone born wretched, who had lived wretchedly, and lived now with all that defining him. Define him, would it? He’d define it right back. In writing, rewrite it. Not to correct or undo, but to set it straight, and all in his name. Simrin, Katharas, Lyros, Nimmun — all unravelled at the stroke of a pen, till only Simra was left.

He stabbed the spearbutt once more into the ground to stand it there. Crouched and laid his hands to the grass. A muttered calling, and the frost began to melt, the grass to dry and cinder. He sat. Put his satchel over his lap and brought out paper, ink. Began again to write.

“Time to get up,” I say, and do nothing.

Instead I think about the Nords in northern Skyrim who stitch themselves into their Winter clothes – their furs and wools and fleeces – and only bathe again when Spring melts the ice on the ocean. And I think about the coiled copper snake on my left forearm, sinking the pattern of its scales slow into my skin.

Take myself by surprise, that’s the only way. I lurch backward and into my shelter, to go through my things.

On a stand of scavenged rooftiles sits the cast-iron pot I found. I hauled it on a rope up the side of the tower. I did the same with the tiles, filling my gathersack with them and pulling and pulling it, hand over hand, til I could empty and arrange them onto the floor. Four days ago I boiled three racer’s eggs in the pot. Took them from their nest, four streets over. Heated the water with magicka, expending myself til I started to sweat, ache in my head and joints and the pit of my stomach. I didn’t dare brave the smoke of a cookfire. I ate the eggs with salt — nothing else after all to save it for. Nearby, the rags and clothes I bed down in.

I fetch my waterskin from amongst my bags. I tilt it over my mouth and wring a few drops from it.

“You’ll need to go out,” I say. “No food. Last of your water. Best go out.” I speak patois when I’m alone. The Grey Quarter’s hybrid tongue. Not my mothertongue, but the tongue that raised me all the same.

Over my shoulder, smoketrails go up from the city’s overscape. The others are cooking breakfast. The countless others I share this city with, as I try best I can to live beneath their notice. I wonder sometimes: Would they help me if they knew I was here? The answer’s the same, I suppose, to whether I’d help them. So I stay hidden, stay clear, and scavenge and ragpick my way through the city, in fear of sight, of sound — any break in my aloneness.

Down then, by rope and scrabbling feet. Stomach growling, I make towards the nearest trail of smoke. Rooftops and wreckage. Through the shattered top of what once was a glassgarden, I smell meat, the sizzle-sweetness of frying fat. And if ever I had a choice to turn back before, it’s gone now: the first thing my hunger’s devoured in days.

[alphaimagine]

This is Hell

An angsty short fic about Ignis’s S/O and what happened right after the Leviathan fight and Luna’s death. Some creative liberties were taken and some things differ from the plot.  Trigger warning for some gore.

~~

It was that scent of sick and blood. The smell of death that lingered only on the harshest of battlefields. Her stomach turned, bile rising in her throat. Bodies, everywhere. Civilians, soldiers, MT’s. Lives taken so unnecessarily, families shredded and dreams crushed beneath the boots of a madman.

With the Leviathan quelled, the field of destruction was silent as the grave. She wondered if the screaming was somehow better than the defining sound of silence. How many children? Husbands? Sisters? How long till the bodies started to rot in the rising sun?

“We have a problem!” yeah, no shit there. Turning, she saw Prompto running up to her.

“Yeah, we have a lot of those right now. Which one are you talking about?”

“Luna’s dying.” no. That couldn’t be right. How could the Oracle be dying? Had she known? Were her last few minutes just the fulfillment of a twisted prophecy she’d already seen?

“Noctis is hurt too, he hasn’t regained conscientiousness after the fight with the Leviathan.” the Prince, the future king the land had placed all their hope into was possibly dying.

“And Ignis…” no, no, no, don’t, please don’t say it. Don’t say it. “He’s injured, bad.” swallowing sand would have been easier then choking down those words.

“Where is he?”

“Come with me, we’ve moved all the survivors to the out-skits of the city, some of the buildings are still standing.”

~~

By the time they arrived, Luna had passed. Her body was carried away, her lifeless corpse covered by a blanket as to afford her some sort of dignity. A proper funeral would be held as soon as possible.

How would give the dozens, possibly hundreds dead in the city a funeral? Were they to have that sort of decency? Or would they be shoved to a mass grave?

Noctis would live, his body spent from the fight, he would need time to recover, but he would live. Who was going to tell him Luna was gone? Who was going to say his childhood love, his soon to be bride was ripped from him by the hands of a demon in the shape of a man?

The door in front of her was swung open from the inside, a doctor leaving.

“He’s not fully awake yet, he’s drifting in and out.” she felt the urge to run in, fly past everyone else and to be by his side.

She didn’t move from the doorway. Her legs felt like led, her heart pounding in her ears.

He groaned, weakly shifting on his bed. One painfully slow step after the other, she made it to his side.

A stifled scream pulled itself from her chest.

The flesh over his right eye was burned, peeling away in grotesque chunks. His nose was bloody, twisted ever so slightly to the side, clearly having been broken and reset. An open wound ran from his hairline down, still seeping the last remnants of blood that hadn’t yet clotted. Lip split open and stitched up crudely, the taste of blood had to be the last thing he knew before passing out. The left eye seemed to have survived, but a slash running down his brow was worrying.

He shifted again, and opened his remaining eye weakly. Her fears were confirmed, it was clouded over, a few bursts blood vessels making it a sickly red.

“Who’s there?” his voice was raw, from the screaming she figured.

“I-it’s me…” when had she started crying?

“...I can’t…see you.” no, gods please no.

“Take it from me, please, for fucks sake take it from me.” her mind was shouting, as if bargaining with the deities that seemed to have forsaken them. If they wouldn’t protect Luna, why would they listen to her?

“I’m sure…the doctor…he can fix it.” he can’t, she knew he couldn’t. Why lie now? Why give any sort of false hope in a hopeless situation? It was just cruel.

“Noctis…?” even like this, even with his face ripped apart he still only had the princes well-being on his mind.

“Alive. He’s out right now, he used a lot of energy to fight…”

“Luna…?” she wanted to run away.

“...Dead, she bled out from what I heard.”

“Prompto…?”

“Alive, he didn’t seem hurt when I saw him.”

“Gladio?”

“Alive, but I haven’t seen him. I don’t know if he’s hurt.” sick, this whole situation was sick. She shouldn’t have to do a roll call on his friends lives.

“You…?” it would be a lie to say coming in last hurt, but right now petty jealously was a sin.

“I got cut up, but I’m ok.”

“...everything is dark.” stop, please, don’t say that.

“We can fix it. I know we can.” don’t cry, hold it together. Force those tears away, be strong, like they had been.

“...I love you.” the bile from before was back, and she fled the room, heaving onto the carpet in the hallway. Her head was spinning, everything was wrong.

Everything was wrong, and she didn’t know if it would ever be right again.

[popola-sil-pola]

A Fallen Star (OneShot)

I haven’t ever.. posted anything like this before;; So forgive me if it’s hard to read... UM! This is a little thing I wrote about Popola’s mother, Shoshola Sil Shola, the Oracle. Please enjoy!

As per usual, she lost sight of her husband. How could someone so tall get lost so quickly? Truthfully though, it was she who had became lost.

“ Is it not as if I enjoy wandering…” she mumbled to herself, clutching her fur trimmed cloak tighter on her chest. Even in such a warm outfit, Popola was not used to the cold stale air of Ishgard.

“He’ll look for me eventually,” Popola’s sigh created a small cloud, though she’d experienced this many a time it still felt magical every time she could see her breath. Her map told her the building next to her was a guild of some sort, the Athenaeum Astrologicum.

“ Gods be praised! Hopefully they’ll allow me to sit by the fire a while,” The rosey cheeked lalafell happily darted towards the door, opening it in hopes to escape the frosty air. Rather than the warmth, another sense hit her first. A strong… nostalgia? No she had never been here before. The guild receptionist called out to her in concern, seeing Popola grabbing her head in pain. Popola assured the receptionist that she was alright, just a bit cold.

“ Oh? Have the fates brought a new prodigy to our door?” a male voice chuckled, “ Welcome to the Athenaeum Astrologicum! I, Jannequinard welcome you to our humble guild. I take it you have an interest in the sharlayan style of astromancy?”

She did not, to be frank. Well, not at first at the very least. This feeling… being surrounded by a library of books and star maps, it felt like home. Could appearing here be another instance of Nymeia’s divine guidance? As not to be rude, she engaged Jannequinard, allowing him to explain mission in spreading this style of fortune telling. As she was listening, something caught her eye. it was… silver? No some type of mythril? What was this… pang in her chest?

“ You see, in this style isn’t used for tracking and mapping, but rather- oh? My lady are you quite alright?” the guildmaster asked, fixing his glasses as he noticed Popola’s full attention was given to the odd flat globe mounted on the wall. “ Ah! A keen eye you have there! this Starglobe belonged to one of our orders most famous Astrologians. She donated her divination tool to the guild in order to inspire-”

“ This is… my grandfather’s handywork,” it was undeniable. Those engravings, the attention to detail, although worn out and old she could make out the grain on it’s surface from her grandfather’s beloved polishing tool.

“ I.. have never seen such a tool at home,” she spoke softly to herself, reaching out to it, “ Please! Allow me to see this device,” she begged, looking back at Jannequinard.

“ Ah, I’m afraid that this is a rather important starglobe… but if you should like to try one out I can-”

“ I am the granddaughter of Jijiriku Jiku, famed goldsmith and scholar of the Wellwick Wood.” Popola stood her ground, “ Prey, forgive my forwardness, but… I must know if his signature is engraved on this device,” it was unmistakable. It had to be his! Reluctantly, Jannequinard allowed the lalafell to hold the artifact, but only for a moment! Surely enough, there it was. Her face fell, staring at the engraving.

“ Grandfather…” she whispered, tracing his name with gentle fingers over the cool metal. Suddenly, she faltered. Aether pulsed at her head and entire being, a dull pounding like a heartbeat made voices and vision fade before everything fell dark.

“ It’s not right, my love,” Yuyura sighed, looking out into the night sky, holding her husband's hand, “ She’s always had a gift, but… to use it in such a way. I for one know what happens when you dictate your life solely on magical abilities..” she spoke crestfallen.

“*Sigh* It is how she is. Perhaps I was too lenient with her upbringing. I should have worked for a better life for you both.” her husband gently rubbed his thumb over his wife's’ hand. She shook her head, “ Our life together has been wonderful. She’s foolish not to see that. but I suppose when one can see beyond the stars, the wonders in front of you are completely lost.” she sighed. Yuyura was pulled in close, held tightly by her beloved.

“ But father! If we pack up and leave we could have so much more!”

“ Shoshola, please! You’ve upset your mother enough with your arrogance!”

“ tch, It is not arrogant when I can SEE without a doubt how fortunate we will be. It is more arrogant to doubt irrefutable fact and deceive yourself into thinking you are always right.”

“ Oh, of course! Certainly it is I who am deceptive.”

Shoshola took a step back. How could her own father… doubt her!? When she had never been wrong before! When she studied in Sharlayan lands just as he did in all his years before her. She gave up so many futures trying to convince her parents, to aid them. How could they be content living as meager folk in a market!?

“ …. Father,” she steeled her heart, “ We gave up on eachother long ago. Is it not time we end this charade?” she scoffed. Her words cut him deep. He had always believed in his daughter’s premonitions and skills. Her magic was more potent than his own! Just like him, she was blessed with wanderlust, unable to keep to one place for too long. Alas, even with all that she had she was… never satisfied. He worried when she started overcharging for simple fortunes. More so when she took jobs from unsavory folk for coin, then gambling them piss poor. As a grown woman he, and as a mage he had no authority over her, carrying the title of ‘father’ seemed to have meant very little in the past few years.

“ No matter how much I do for you and mother, I am met with only scornful looks and reprimands,” she turned her back to them both.

“ Shoshola, don’t you dare! if you leave now-” Yuyura called, trying to contain herself from her hysterical tears.

“ I will not be confined. “

She feared for her life. Irrationally perhaps, but this had never happened before! How could… she have been wrong? How could she not have seen this coming!? She was all seeing! How had her womb swelled with life and come into the realm without her insight. This creature before her, had the power to evade her vision, had denied the stars prophecy. What sort of creature was capable of this!?

“ We are glad that you finally came to your senses,” Yuyura spoke calmly, placing a hand woven blanket onto her daughter’s lap. “ Jijiriku darling, can you boil some water? Shoshola must be tired after all that work.” the usually nervous woman seemed at peace, walking over to the old cradle.

“ Such a sweet little child,” she smiled, “ And so fair you’d mistake her for our blessed Sultana,” she chuckled gingerly, so proud to have become a grandmother. Shoshola was quiet.

They did not scorn her, or turn her away when she came back home years later, carrying a child. They were only glad tos ee their daughter again. Having heard tale of her travels, and a brief career with the Observatorium in Coerthas they did not care to question what she had done. Only if she was safe and begged her to stay with them, especially as she carried her child to term.

“ It must have been rough,” Jijiriku started the kettle from the other room. The house was small enough to make conversation even in separate rooms. “ Have you decided on a name?” he asked his daughter. Shoshola shook her head.

“ Ah, I suppose you’d like to converse with the stars to find a proper and fitting name,” he smiled. At least her parents were happy now. Looking at the crib, she could not feel the same peace.

”What… is this child?” Shoshola whispered to herself, staring at the small lalafellian child lying quietly in her cradle. “This creature that invaded mine own womb and came to life without my knowledge. Her aura is strong as well. No matter how many times I try, I cannot read her future. I do not know what she will be, who she will be or what she will do. And that she was born from me, I fear most,” The child’s cheeks were flushed pink with muted lavender tufts atop her head. Her features were much softer than Shoshola’s but they were unmistakably mother and child.

“... I am not fit to raise a child,” she sighed, looking off to the side as if this was a cruel, divine prank, “ Nymeia are you punishing me for rivaling you?” she asked cockily. “ Tch, Unlike her divinity, I cannot weave the fates, only see them. But this child… I feel she may be able to surpass even myself,” she glared at the babe, “ Which is too dangerous in the wrong hands.” She had only one choice, at least in her deductive reasoning. A creature with immeasurable potential was not right for the world. Pressing her thumbs to the third eye, in between the babe’s eyebrows, she channeled the Balance constellation, using her own life’s aether to enhance the power of this seal. the room filled with stars, gravity losing its pull as she casted time Dilation upon the seal onto the child, locking her potential within her. As soon as Shoshola finished casting, she felt her chest tighten and fell gracefully to the floor. By the standards of her teachings this was a blasphemous combination to use, but it wasn’t as if Shoshola thought she had to conform to any law. In her arrogance she made-shift a seal, blocking the babe’s flow of aether. 

“ Tch, displeased, are you Nymeia? Or is this part of the cruel tapestry you’ve woven my life into?”  she seemed to have cared little, but there was determination in her stone cold eyes. “ Father and Mother are good people. A helpless creature like you will bring them joy,” she said to the infant, getting up and pulling on a cloak. “ they will be pleased to have a second chance to raise the daughter they wanted in the first place,” she whispered, before disappearing  into the night.

“ Popo! Popo!!”

Her vision came back slowly, meeting the familiar and golden gaze followed by a humble chuckle.

“ Were it not for my worry, i could watch  you’re slumbering face for hours. But why don’t we save that for tonight?” Renaud spoke softly, holding his tiny wife in his arms.

“ Madame! You’ve awoken!” Jannequinard fanned himself, “ As soon as you looked upon the globe you fell! For certain it is a beautiful weapon but-” he went on, remounting the weapon on the wall.

Popola was so tired. That echo went on for what seemed a lifetime. She curled up into Renaud’s arms meekly. “ You found me,” her head was still pounding.

“ Don’t I always?” Renaud asked, hugging her just a bit tighter as if he was worried he would loose her again, “ I can’t say I’m pleased to see you fainting before another elezen. I’ll have to try harder,” he joked, making his way to the door.

“... What happened?” he asked, his voice riddled with concern, “ What did you see this time?”

“... My mother.”

[viralstation]

Special Report: New York’s enterprise infrastructure ecosystem

New Post has been published on http://viralstation.org/special-report-new-yorks-enterprise-infrastructure-ecosystem/

Special Report: New York’s enterprise infrastructure ecosystem

New York City is a marvel of infrastructure planning and engineering. There are the visible landmarks — the Brooklyn Bridge, the Lincoln Tunnel, the Empire State Building — and also the invisible ones that run the city beneath its crowded streets, such as one of the world’s most complex water tunneling and reservoir systems. That infrastructure was built for the economy of the 20th century, a market that emphasized the manufacturing and trading of goods.

Infrastructure though has a very different meaning in the 21st century. The digital economy means we no longer measure the movement of products simply as tonnage on freight ships and trucks, but rather as bits and bytes flowing from data centers to devices. The shipping container once revolutionized 20th century global trade, and now containerization is revolutionizing the way we think about delivering applications to end users.

While New York has more Fortune 500 companies than any other state, to date it hasn’t been a global leader in startups compared to hotspots like the Bay Area, particularly in the sorts of enterprise and data infrastructure startups that undergird the internet revolution.

That situation is rapidly changing. Today, New York City has numerous unicorns targeting the enterprise, and a large number of up-and-coming winners like Datadog that are commanding substantial market share. But what is truly exciting — and different from past prognostications about the success of enterprise in New York — is that we are now seeing the rise of a generation of hundreds of startups that are deeply technical and deeply committed to building the future of enterprise infrastructure and applications.

Today, TechCrunch presents a special report on the state of enterprise startups in New York City. My colleague Ron Miller and I interviewed dozens of people, and we boiled down their thoughts and insights into this series of articles. We purposely brought out focus away from the pure SaaS application world, and instead tried to go deeper into the infrastructure and security startups that are increasingly powering and protecting our internet services.

This article provides an overview of the changing exit environment for startups in NYC, the rise of a set of mafias which are incubating startups, and the changing culture of customers and how that is assisting NYC startups with their competition out west.

We then have a series of profile pieces on early but burgeoning startups: DNS provider NS1, time series database Timescale, bare metal cloud Packet, data privacy BigID, cloud monitoring Datadog, and a trio of security startups: cybersecurity analytics Security Scorecard, graph-based security ops Uplevel Security, and decentralized authentication HYPR. Finally, we put together a gallery of enterprise startups we think are going to be making waves in the coming years.

No need to search for the exits anymore

One of the on-going criticisms of the New York City startup ecosystem has been its lack of exits. Despite being a technology epicenter and a hub for some of the world’s largest and richest companies, the actual track record of startups in the city has never measured up. That’s a massive problem, since exits aren’t just trophies to put on the wall. Rather, they’re the generators of wealth which can be transformed into the lifeblood for the next generation of startups.

The exit environment in New York has started to look much better in recent years though, particularly in the enterprise space over the past year. Yext, which manages online reputation for brands, debuted on the NYSE last year and now sits at a $1.28 billion market cap. MongoDB went public late last year, and is just shy of a $2 billion valuation. Flatiron Health, which applies data analytics to cancer research, was acquired by Roche for $1.9 billion two months ago. Moat, an ad measurement company, was purchased by Oracle for $850 million last year.

Those are some hefty exits over just a couple of months, but the real depth of the NYC ecosystem can be witnessed in the startups right behind them that are becoming market leaders. Those companies include AppNexus, Datadog, UiPath, Dataminr, Sprinklr, InVision, Digital Ocean, Percolate, Namely, Compass, Infor, Zeta Global, Greenhouse, WeWork and the list continues. Together, these companies have raised billion of dollars in venture capital funding according to Crunchbase.

What’s different for New York than in the past is that the city is no longer relying on one company as the leading light that will prove the worth of the rest of the ecosystem. As we interviewed investors and founders about what companies they thought were going to be the most notable in the years ahead, what was illuminating was just how little overlap there existed between their answers. There is truly a cohort of strong startups coming of age in the city, and that gives the ecosystem much more vitality than it has ever seen before.

These aren’t your Godfather’s mafias

New York is increasingly a mafia town, and that’s a good thing.

One of Silicon Valley’s biggest advantages has been the constant renewal of its startup talent. People join startups, learn the ropes from experienced founders, meet other talented employees, and eventually decide to spin out on their own and build their startup dreams. Some companies have become so well known for this pattern that the networks they have formed are known as mafias. The PayPal mafia is perhaps the most famous example, but there are many other companies in the Valley that have become boot camps for the next generation of founders.

New York may be more notorious for its occasionally violent, often Italian mafias, but today the city is also home to a growing network of startup mafias who are building companies and firms and powering the ecosystem.

Take Voxel. The company, which was formed in New York City in 1999, built enterprise hosting solutions for customers around the world. It was acquired by Internap in 2012, in an all-cash transaction valued at $30 million.

That’s a pretty small exit by startup standards, but despite its small size, it has created an entire generation of NYC enterprise startup founders. Voxel CEO and founder Raj Dutt ended up starting Grafana, an open source time series analytics platform. Voxel COO Zac Smith left to start Packet, and Voxel principal software architect Kris Beevers started NS1.

Another stylized example is Gilt Groupe. Security Scorecard founders Sam Kassoumeh and Aleksandr Yampolskiy met at Gilt when they became the first two hires for the security team there. Yampolskiy had never heard of the company before, but “my wife was apparently a customer, so maybe I would get some clothes discounts.” When Sam showed up at noon in a sweatshirt on his first day, “I was like, I am going to fire this guy,” he said.

In the end, the two got along, and they eventually left to found Security Scorecard, which has raised more than $62 million in venture capital according to Crunchbase from a long list of luminary Valley-based investors.

The examples are endless. Edward Chiu, the founder of Catalyst, learned customer success at Digital Ocean, and ended up realizing that the company’s internal tooling could be externalized as a startup. Liz Maida, the founder of Uplevel Security, learned her trade at internet traffic juggernaut Akamai, and has taken several of the product lessons she learned there to heart. Timber.io founders Zach Sherman and Ben Johnson met at SeatGeek, where they realized that logging could be made significantly better. The networks each of these bought along helped in building their startups.

Of course, all of these are anecdotes, and it is next to impossible to systematically analyze these movements. Yet, these patterns of entrepreneurs and investors have become much more visible in the ecosystem. Startup talent is increasingly begetting startup talent, spinning out and circulating their knowledge.

But beyond these clusters of individuals lie the glue that is holding the ecosystem together: Jonathan Lehr and his team at Work-Bench and Ed Sim and Eliot Durbin at Boldstart. All three of them made the bet years ago that New York City would become an epicenter of the enterprise infrastructure software industry. Now they are reaping the rewards of those bets.

Work-Bench is both a workspace and a fund, but its core value is the community that’s been built around it. Lehr founded the New York Enterprise Tech Meetup, which hosts at Work-Bench a monthly gathering of hundreds of participants in the enterprise space, from founders to customers.

He has also built up a wide network of potential customers across industries to accelerate the early sales of his startups. “We are not just sending intros, we can backchannel which can save a lot of time” for founders, Lehr said. For instance, if a customer can’t deploy an application for another year because of internal politics, Lehr can figure that out and tell his founders that information, saving them time on a sale that might not come to fruition.

For Sim at Boldstart, the message is much the same. When he first launched the seed fund with Durbin in 2010, people thought that “there aren’t going to be enough deals to be done,” he said. “We thought of it as an experiment,” and the two raised only $1 million to get started. Now the fund has raised its third vehicle of $47 million, and plays a convening in engaging West Coast VCs. “On the West Coast, what [founders] really want is access to customers,” Sim explained “and on the East Coast, they want access to West Coast VCs.” Those West Coast VCs are showing up in New York these days more and more. “Every week there are five different firms sitting in our office trying to figure out what is happening in New York.”

Startup ecosystems take off when there is a sufficient density of talent, a strong desire to help one another, and an open ambition to compete. New York City has never lacked the latter, but it has been missing out on a dense network of helpful and experienced startup hands. The rise of mafias centered on some of the city’s leading companies as well as the development of community hubs for support are adding the final ingredients for a world-class ecosystem.

How changing customer tastes rebuilt NYC’s startup ecosystem

In the classic text Regional Advantage, AnnaLee Saxenian analyzed the cultural differences between innovation on the East Coast, epitomized by Boston’s Route 128, and the culture of Silicon Valley. She found that the East Coast was stodgy, hierarchical, and centralized around large corporate behemoths like DEC and EMC. In contrast, the West Coast was nimble, networked, and decentralized, with little social hierarchy.

Silicon Valley was believed to be dead in the early 1990s, outcompeted by Asian tigers like Singapore, Taiwan, and Korea in manufacturing the chips that gave the region its name. The Valley was saved in just the nick of time by the opening of the internet to commercial activity, and the culture of the West Coast would prove perfectly attuned to the frenetic pace of innovation that followed. The Valley swept the internet economy, and many of the world’s most important tech companies are now located in the Bay Area.

That Silicon Valley innovation culture is now been exported around the world, and that is no less true walking around New York City startup neighborhoods like the Flatiron and Union Square. It’s not just the obvious sartorial changes that have made the city more relaxed and creative. It’s also the changing personality of the people who are successful here — the finance major is now the computer science graduate.

New York’s startup culture isn’t just a transplant of the Valley’s however, but rather an evolution of it. The pure excitement of tech that can be found at San Francisco meetups is much more muted here. Instead, there is a greater focus on investing in product design by listening to customers earlier and much more closely.

That’s only possible though because customers actually want to talk. The success of New York City’s enterprise startups rests in large part on the changing nature of purchasing at Fortune 500 companies.

Lehr of Work-Bench should know. Prior to starting the fund, he evaluated potential technology vendors at Morgan Stanley. “The adage that you don’t get fired for buying IBM had longed passed,” Lehr explained. Companies have vexing problems, and they are increasingly willing to experiment with startup technology if it has the potential to solve those issues.

The West Coast culture of flexible decision-making has entered the corporate world. CIOs used to have a vice grip on technology purchasing, but now leaders across the enterprise increasingly make their own independent decisions. Lehr said that “you now need to know, as a startup, nuanced different people in enterprise, and as a VC, to stay relevant, you don’t just want to know the CIO or CTO, but the 30 other people who have pain points” across a company.

Sim at Boldstart noted “The last thing heads of IT want is salespeople in front of them. You are not selling anything because they don’t want to buy anything.” Instead, “they are willing to work with startups if you have the right … service partnership mentality,” he said.

With customers increasingly engaged, proximity has become a major boon for startups in NYC. “In the early days before you are ready to scale, it is all about relationships in the enterprise,” Lehr explained. He described the thinking of customers today looking at buying from startups. “I can trust these people to get me promoted, and they are in New York, and they can give me feedback.”

I heard this point made from nearly every person I talked to. Roman Chwyl, a sales executive with experience at AWS, Google, and IBM, noted that when it comes to customers, “We can probably do six meetings a day up and down a subway line.” That thinking was mirrored by George Avetisov, the CEO of HYPR, who said that “All of our customers are in a 10 mile radius” because of the company’s focus on financial institutions.

That customer-centric view is what has made Datadog, which is now north of $100 million in annual recurring revenue, so competitive. Olivier Pomel, the CEO and founder, said that “Mostly what is interesting is that we’re not overwhelmed by the 5,000 startups around us” like in the Valley, and “what we hear is more clearly the message from the customers and the market.” He noted that “For most of the people at Datadog, their significant others are not in tech,” and that means reality doesn’t get distorted in the way it can on the West Coast.

While East Coast customers seem to have become more aggressive early-adopters, that view is not held universally. Kris Beevers, the founder and CEO of NS1, said that “the reality of our business through 2014 and 2015 is that I flew to California twice a month for sales meetings, and that is where the bulk of our customers come from.” As major West Coast companies signed on though, they ended up acting as lighthouse customers for more conservative companies on the East Coast.

Intense pain points can solve that hesitation. Ajay Kulkarni, the founder and CEO of time series database Timescale, noted that the company has customers in conservative industries because the database solves a critical production challenge for those businesses, namely the real-time processing of internet of things data. He also noted that selling to the West Coast is not necessarily easier. “I think the Bay Area is great for open source adoption, but a lot of Bay Area companies, they develop their own database tech, or they use an open source project and never pay for it,” he said.

Lehr also pointed to tech for tech’s sake as one of the increasing challenges for Silicon Valley-based enterprise companies. “In Silicon Valley, too many people start with the whiz bang tech, rather than the dirty word of use cases,” he said.

Some technology purists may complain that customers don’t know what they want until they see it. That may be true, and there is something to be said for disruptive innovation like Docker’s containers, which no one wanted for years and now everyone is excited about. But ultimately, customers buy software because it solves their problems, and they know those problems intimately. Mixing the nimble culture of Silicon Valley with a customer focus has allowed New York to start competing far more aggressively in enterprise infrastructure, and create a leading set of successful companies.

The future is still waiting to be built

New York has come a long way, but it does still have challenges. Unlike venture capitalists on the West Coast, VCs in NYC often face significantly less competition for deals, and that means they can take significantly longer to make a decision. Almost all founders I talked to griped that — with a handful of exceptions — local VCs just aren’t willing to write the first check into their companies. In fact, for Sim at Boldstart, that has become a rallying cry. He bought firstcheck.vc, which redirects to Boldstart’s domain.

Another challenge that is a bit more peculiar to the geography of the city is just how many sub-ecosystems exist. There are distinct Manhattan and Brooklyn startup communities that overlap far less than some might expect. While there are exceptions, the fintech, biotech, and adtech worlds also keep much to themselves. University ecosystems around Columbia, NYU, Cornell Tech, and Princeton also similarly stay in their own space. These fractures are not apparent at first glance, but few leaders in the community have been able to blur these demarcations.

Ironically, New York also has a lack of showmanship. To put it frankly, there is no Elon Musk or SpaceX that is a paragon of ambition and aspiration that drives the rest of the ecosystem to (literally) shoot for the stars. The city’s strength in enterprise tech is a strong bedrock for a durable startup ecosystem, but it is hard to turn the success of, say, an advertising analytics platform into a beacon for others to try their own fortunes in the startup world.

That’s a loss for the city today, but also the opening for the enterprising individual who wants to make it big. Sim at Boldstart said that “I feel like Rodney Dangerfield: we get no respect, and over the next few years, we will get the respect we deserve.” Ultimately, that’s the story of New York: scrappiness and hustle, and trying to build the future one piece of infrastructure at a time.

Read Original Article

[abckidstvyara]

New York City is a marvel of infrastructure planning and engineering. There are the visible landmarks — the Brooklyn Bridge, the Lincoln Tunnel, the Empire State Building — and also the invisible ones that run the city beneath its crowded streets, such as one of the world’s most complex water tunneling and reservoir systems. That infrastructure was built for the economy of the 20th century, a market that emphasized the manufacturing and trading of goods.

Infrastructure though has a very different meaning in the 21st century. The digital economy means we no longer measure the movement of products simply as tonnage on freight ships and trucks, but rather as bits and bytes flowing from data centers to devices. The shipping container once revolutionized 20th century global trade, and now containerization is revolutionizing the way we think about delivering applications to end users.

While New York has more Fortune 500 companies than any other state, to date it hasn’t been a global leader in startups compared to hotspots like the Bay Area, particularly in the sorts of enterprise and data infrastructure startups that undergird the internet revolution.

That situation is rapidly changing. Today, New York City has numerous unicorns targeting the enterprise, and a large number of up-and-coming winners like Datadog that are commanding substantial market share. But what is truly exciting — and different from past prognostications about the success of enterprise in New York — is that we are now seeing the rise of a generation of hundreds of startups that are deeply technical and deeply committed to building the future of enterprise infrastructure and applications.

Today, TechCrunch presents a special report on the state of enterprise startups in New York City. My colleague Ron Miller and I interviewed dozens of people, and we boiled down their thoughts and insights into this series of articles. We purposely brought out focus away from the pure SaaS application world, and instead tried to go deeper into the infrastructure and security startups that are increasingly powering and protecting our internet services.

This article provides an overview of the changing exit environment for startups in NYC, the rise of a set of mafias which are incubating startups, and the changing culture of customers and how that is assisting NYC startups with their competition out west.

We then have a series of profile pieces on early but burgeoning startups: DNS provider NS1, time series database Timescale, bare metal cloud Packet, data privacy BigID, cloud monitoring Datadog, and a trio of security startups: cybersecurity analytics Security Scorecard, graph-based security ops Uplevel Security, and decentralized authentication HYPR. Finally, we put together a gallery of enterprise startups we think are going to be making waves in the coming years.

No need to search for the exits anymore

One of the on-going criticisms of the New York City startup ecosystem has been its lack of exits. Despite being a technology epicenter and a hub for some of the world’s largest and richest companies, the actual track record of startups in the city has never measured up. That’s a massive problem, since exits aren’t just trophies to put on the wall. Rather, they’re the generators of wealth which can be transformed into the lifeblood for the next generation of startups.

The exit environment in New York has started to look much better in recent years though, particularly in the enterprise space over the past year. Yext, which manages online reputation for brands, debuted on the NYSE last year and now sits at a $1.28 billion market cap. MongoDB went public late last year, and is just shy of a $2 billion valuation. Flatiron Health, which applies data analytics to cancer research, was acquired by Roche for $1.9 billion two months ago. Moat, an ad measurement company, was purchased by Oracle for $850 million last year.

Those are some hefty exits over just a couple of months, but the real depth of the NYC ecosystem can be witnessed in the startups right behind them that are becoming market leaders. Those companies include AppNexus, Datadog, UiPath, Dataminr, Sprinklr, InVision, Digital Ocean, Percolate, Namely, Compass, Infor, Zeta Global, Greenhouse, WeWork and the list continues. Together, these companies have raised billion of dollars in venture capital funding according to Crunchbase.

What’s different for New York than in the past is that the city is no longer relying on one company as the leading light that will prove the worth of the rest of the ecosystem. As we interviewed investors and founders about what companies they thought were going to be the most notable in the years ahead, what was illuminating was just how little overlap there existed between their answers. There is truly a cohort of strong startups coming of age in the city, and that gives the ecosystem much more vitality than it has ever seen before.

These aren’t your Godfather’s mafias

New York is increasingly a mafia town, and that’s a good thing.

One of Silicon Valley’s biggest advantages has been the constant renewal of its startup talent. People join startups, learn the ropes from experienced founders, meet other talented employees, and eventually decide to spin out on their own and build their startup dreams. Some companies have become so well known for this pattern that the networks they have formed are known as mafias. The PayPal mafia is perhaps the most famous example, but there are many other companies in the Valley that have become boot camps for the next generation of founders.

New York may be more notorious for its occasionally violent, often Italian mafias, but today the city is also home to a growing network of startup mafias who are building companies and firms and powering the ecosystem.

Take Voxel. The company, which was formed in New York City in 1999, built enterprise hosting solutions for customers around the world. It was acquired by Internap in 2012, in an all-cash transaction valued at $30 million.

That’s a pretty small exit by startup standards, but despite its small size, it has created an entire generation of NYC enterprise startup founders. Voxel CEO and founder Raj Dutt ended up starting Grafana, an open source time series analytics platform. Voxel COO Zac Smith left to start Packet, and Voxel principal software architect Kris Beevers started NS1.

Another stylized example is Gilt Groupe. Security Scorecard founders Sam Kassoumeh and Aleksandr Yampolskiy met at Gilt when they became the first two hires for the security team there. Yampolskiy had never heard of the company before, but “my wife was apparently a customer, so maybe I would get some clothes discounts.” When Sam showed up at noon in a sweatshirt on his first day, “I was like, I am going to fire this guy,” he said.

In the end, the two got along, and they eventually left to found Security Scorecard, which has raised more than $62 million in venture capital according to Crunchbase from a long list of luminary Valley-based investors.

The examples are endless. Edward Chiu, the founder of Catalyst, learned customer success at Digital Ocean, and ended up realizing that the company’s internal tooling could be externalized as a startup. Liz Maida, the founder of Uplevel Security, learned her trade at internet traffic juggernaut Akamai, and has taken several of the product lessons she learned there to heart. Timber.io founders Zach Sherman and Ben Johnson met at SeatGeek, where they realized that logging could be made significantly better. The networks each of these bought along helped in building their startups.

Of course, all of these are anecdotes, and it is next to impossible to systematically analyze these movements. Yet, these patterns of entrepreneurs and investors have become much more visible in the ecosystem. Startup talent is increasingly begetting startup talent, spinning out and circulating their knowledge.

But beyond these clusters of individuals lie the glue that is holding the ecosystem together: Jonathan Lehr and his team at Work-Bench and Ed Sim and Eliot Durbin at Boldstart. All three of them made the bet years ago that New York City would become an epicenter of the enterprise infrastructure software industry. Now they are reaping the rewards of those bets.

Work-Bench is both a workspace and a fund, but its core value is the community that’s been built around it. Lehr founded the New York Enterprise Tech Meetup, which hosts at Work-Bench a monthly gathering of hundreds of participants in the enterprise space, from founders to customers.

He has also built up a wide network of potential customers across industries to accelerate the early sales of his startups. “We are not just sending intros, we can backchannel which can save a lot of time” for founders, Lehr said. For instance, if a customer can’t deploy an application for another year because of internal politics, Lehr can figure that out and tell his founders that information, saving them time on a sale that might not come to fruition.

For Sim at Boldstart, the message is much the same. When he first launched the seed fund with Durbin in 2010, people thought that “there aren’t going to be enough deals to be done,” he said. “We thought of it as an experiment,” and the two raised only $1 million to get started. Now the fund has raised its third vehicle of $47 million, and plays a convening in engaging West Coast VCs. “On the West Coast, what [founders] really want is access to customers,” Sim explained “and on the East Coast, they want access to West Coast VCs.” Those West Coast VCs are showing up in New York these days more and more. “Every week there are five different firms sitting in our office trying to figure out what is happening in New York.”

Startup ecosystems take off when there is a sufficient density of talent, a strong desire to help one another, and an open ambition to compete. New York City has never lacked the latter, but it has been missing out on a dense network of helpful and experienced startup hands. The rise of mafias centered on some of the city’s leading companies as well as the development of community hubs for support are adding the final ingredients for a world-class ecosystem.

How changing customer tastes rebuilt NYC’s startup ecosystem

In the classic text Regional Advantage, AnnaLee Saxenian analyzed the cultural differences between innovation on the East Coast, epitomized by Boston’s Route 128, and the culture of Silicon Valley. She found that the East Coast was stodgy, hierarchical, and centralized around large corporate behemoths like DEC and EMC. In contrast, the West Coast was nimble, networked, and decentralized, with little social hierarchy.

Silicon Valley was believed to be dead in the early 1990s, outcompeted by Asian tigers like Singapore, Taiwan, and Korea in manufacturing the chips that gave the region its name. The Valley was saved in just the nick of time by the opening of the internet to commercial activity, and the culture of the West Coast would prove perfectly attuned to the frenetic pace of innovation that followed. The Valley swept the internet economy, and many of the world’s most important tech companies are now located in the Bay Area.

That Silicon Valley innovation culture is now been exported around the world, and that is no less true walking around New York City startup neighborhoods like the Flatiron and Union Square. It’s not just the obvious sartorial changes that have made the city more relaxed and creative. It’s also the changing personality of the people who are successful here — the finance major is now the computer science graduate.

New York’s startup culture isn’t just a transplant of the Valley’s however, but rather an evolution of it. The pure excitement of tech that can be found at San Francisco meetups is much more muted here. Instead, there is a greater focus on investing in product design by listening to customers earlier and much more closely.

That’s only possible though because customers actually want to talk. The success of New York City’s enterprise startups rests in large part on the changing nature of purchasing at Fortune 500 companies.

Lehr of Work-Bench should know. Prior to starting the incubator and fund, he evaluated potential technology vendors at Morgan Stanley. “The adage that you don’t get fired for buying IBM had longed passed,” Lehr explained. Companies have vexing problems, and they are increasingly willing to experiment with startup technology if it has the potential to solve those issues.

The West Coast culture of flexible decision-making has entered the corporate world. CIOs used to have a vice grip on technology purchasing, but now leaders across the enterprise increasingly make their own independent decisions. Lehr said that “you now need to know, as a startup, nuanced different people in enterprise, and as a VC, to stay relevant, you don’t just want to know the CIO or CTO, but the 30 other people who have pain points” across a company.

Sim at Boldstart noted “The last thing heads of IT want is salespeople in front of them. You are not selling anything because they don’t want to buy anything.” Instead, “they are willing to work with startups if you have the right … service partnership mentality,” he said.

With customers increasingly engaged, proximity has become a major boon for startups in NYC. “In the early days before you are ready to scale, it is all about relationships in the enterprise,” Lehr explained. He described the thinking of customers today looking at buying from startups. “I can trust these people to get me promoted, and they are in New York, and they can give me feedback.”

I heard this point made from nearly every person I talked to. Roman Chwyl, a sales executive with experience at AWS, Google, and IBM, noted that when it comes to customers, “We can probably do six meetings a day up and down a subway line.” That thinking was mirrored by George Avetisov, the CEO of HYPR, who said that “All of our customers are in a 10 mile radius” because of the company’s focus on financial institutions.

That customer-centric view is what has made Datadog, which is now north of $100 million in annual recurring revenue, so competitive. Olivier Pomel, the CEO and founder, said that “Mostly what is interesting is that we’re not overwhelmed by the 5,000 startups around us” like in the Valley, and “what we hear is more clearly the message from the customers and the market.” He noted that “For most of the people at Datadog, their significant others are not in tech,” and that means reality doesn’t get distorted in the way it can on the West Coast.

While East Coast customers seem to have become more aggressive early-adopters, that view is not held universally. Kris Beevers, the founder and CEO of NS1, said that “the reality of our business through 2014 and 2015 is that I flew to California twice a month for sales meetings, and that is where the bulk of our customers come from.” As major West Coast companies signed on though, they ended up acting as lighthouse customers for more conservative companies on the East Coast.

Intense pain points can solve that hesitation. Ajay Kulkarni, the founder and CEO of time series database Timescale, noted that the company has customers in conservative industries because the database solves a critical production challenge for those businesses, namely the real-time processing of internet of things data. He also noted that selling to the West Coast is not necessarily easier. “I think the Bay Area is great for open source adoption, but a lot of Bay Area companies, they develop their own database tech, or they use an open source project and never pay for it,” he said.

Lehr also pointed to tech for tech’s sake as one of the increasing challenges for Silicon Valley-based enterprise companies. “In Silicon Valley, too many people start with the whiz bang tech, rather than the dirty word of use cases,” he said.

Some technology purists may complain that customers don’t know what they want until they see it. That may be true, and there is something to be said for disruptive innovation like Docker’s containers, which no one wanted for years and now everyone is excited about. But ultimately, customers buy software because it solves their problems, and they know those problems intimately. Mixing the nimble culture of Silicon Valley with a customer focus has allowed New York to start competing far more aggressively in enterprise infrastructure, and create a leading set of successful companies.

The future is still waiting to be built

New York has come a long way, but it does still have challenges. Unlike venture capitalists on the West Coast, VCs in NYC often face significantly less competition for deals, and that means they can take significantly longer to make a decision. Almost all founders I talked to griped that — with a handful of exceptions — local VCs just aren’t willing to write the first check into their companies. In fact, for Sim at Boldstart, that has become a rallying cry. He bought firstcheck.vc, which redirects to Boldstart’s domain.

Another challenge that is a bit more peculiar to the geography of the city is just how many sub-ecosystems exist. There are distinct Manhattan and Brooklyn startup communities that overlap far less than some might expect. While there are exceptions, the fintech, biotech, and adtech worlds also keep much to themselves. University ecosystems around Columbia, NYU, Cornell Tech, and Princeton also similarly stay in their own space. These fractures are not apparent at first glance, but few leaders in the community have been able to blur these demarcations.

Ironically, New York also has a lack of showmanship. To put it frankly, there is no Elon Musk or SpaceX that is a paragon of ambition and aspiration that drives the rest of the ecosystem to (literally) shoot for the stars. The city’s strength in enterprise tech is a strong bedrock for a durable startup ecosystem, but it is hard to turn the success of, say, an advertising analytics platform into a beacon for others to try their own fortunes in the startup world.

That’s a loss for the city today, but also the opening for the enterprising individual who wants to make it big. Sim at Boldstart said that “I feel like Rodney Dangerfield: we get no respect, and over the next few years, we will get the respect we deserve.” Ultimately, that’s the story of New York: scrappiness and hustle, and trying to build the future one piece of infrastructure at a time.