#we will survive as we always have. all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well and all that

[kung-fu-cutbug]

[disgruntledexplainer]

Deltora, a subversion of fantasy tropes (or perhaps more accurately going back to it's roots)

@yellow-eyed-green-crocodile OK, here we go.

Deltora Quest is a children's book series. It consists of 16 books, though it exists in an expanded universe which contains another 12 books, not counting Tales of Deltora, Secrets of Deltora, and Monsters of Deltora (as well as the little-known extra book The Land of Dragons, which contains about half of what's in Tales of Deltora plus 3 additional stories which you can't find anywhere else).

The books were written during that time when Scholastic was doing it's darnedest to get kids to actually pick up a book and read. You know, the era of Animorphs, Secrets of Droon, and other books like that. Pre-harry-potter stuff. But deltora always stuck out as somewhat... odd.

For one thing, the setting. Deltora is a land absolutely INFESTED with horrifying monsters. we're talking lovecraft-level stuff. indeed, these things are so powerful that going toe-to-toe with them in conventional combat is laughably absurd. I mean, just look at this thing:

each of those little globes is a stomach the size of a PERSON. a sword ain't doin SHIT against that thing. and it wasn't even the primary monster from the book it came from. do you know what was? THE SAND IT'S STANDING ON. YES, THAT ENTIRE DESERT IS A SINGLE MONSTER.

there are also dark sorcerers, capable of, for example, turning an entire town into a fetid swamp in a split second, and deflecting any weapon directed at them. the main villain is a sorcerer of such incredible power that he makes zeus and odin look like chumps.

in order to defeat these creatures, the main characters are consistently forced to use their wits instead of their weapons.

but this isn't what I am writing this post about. every fantasy book has monsters of some kind. probably. no, what REALLY stands out about the Deltora Quest series is the BELT.

this is the Belt of Deltora, a composite magic item formed from 7 gems, each linked to the power of the land, bound together by a belt made by a simple blacksmith who united the seven tribes of deltora and became it's first king. it is considered the single most powerful mystical object on the continent, and uniting it is Deltora's only hope for survival.

except from a generic fantasy perspective, it kinda sucks.

in most generic fantasy settings, the characters are attempting to accumulate magical power which they can use to engage their enemies directly in combat; alternatively, they may be trying to build a big enough army or something similar. but the gems don't work like that. lets take a look at what the gems can actually do, shall we?

the Diamond: Gem of Strength or Fortitude, can give physical strength, fortitude, and courage to the wielder, as well as the ability to cure diseases in the person who touches it. it punishes those who attempt to take it in a dishonorable manner with misfortune. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Diamond Dragons, and a nearby dragon of it's type boosts it's power, and vice versa. it also has this weird synergy with the topaz where the topaz can summon the strength of everyone who believes in the wearer (in a metaphorical sense) and the diamond transforms that belief into physical strength.

the Emerald: Gem of Honor, dulls in the presense of evil or at the location of a broken vow, is a remedy for sores and ulcers, and is an antidote to poison for whomever touches it. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Emerald Dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. Note that out of all the dragons, emerald dragons are arguably the biggest and most powerful. It might have other powers as well, as it's potential isn't as well explored as the other gems.

Lapis Lazuli: Gem of Luck or Providence, protects the wearer from evil and brings good fortune. also may have some subtle effect on the weather, though that hasn't been confirmed. it is arguably the most powerful of the gems for the protection it provides, but the nature of it's power is ill defined, and certainly outside of the wearer's ability to control. It also allows you to detect the location of the Opal as if it were a compass, and is more powerful when in close proximity to it. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate and heal Lapis Lazuli dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. If the opal has it's power boosted by a nearby opal dragon, the Lapis Lazuli's power is also boosted if they are close to each other.

Topaz: Gem of Faith, can allow the wearer to make contact with the spirit world during a full moon. the character can see ghosts, and sometimes the spirits of the hallowed dead (those who are in heaven) will appear to the character and given advice, those this is extremely rare. It also clears and strengthens the mind and protects the wearer from the terrors of the night (also ill-defined). It's powers are all strengthened during the full moon. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal topaz dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

Opal: Gem of Hope, has the power to give glimpses of the future and can enhance the wearer's vision, and it can also fill the wearer with hope for the future (which helps counteract the panic that the visions of the future often produce). It can detect the Lapis Lazuli like a compass, and is more powerful when in close proximity to it. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal opal dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. If the Lapis Lazuli has it's power boosted by a nearby lapis lazuli dragon, the opal's power is also boosted if they are close to each-other.

The Ruby: Gem of Happiness or Love, it grows pale in the presense of evil, or when misfortune threatens it's wearer. Can be used in conjunction with the emerald to fully distinguish between danger, evil, and vow-breakers, since their powers overlap a little. It wards off evil spirits (also ill-defined) and is an antidote to snake venom, and also apparently repels snakes and venomous creatures in general. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal ruby dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

The Amethyst: Gem of Truth or Wisdom, changes color in the presence of illness, pales near poisoned food or drink, and guides the wearer toward sincerity, security and peace of mind (AKA calming the wearer when touched). It also boosts the power of Toran Magic. By A LOT. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Amethyst dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

True, this is a lot of variety in powers, but with the exception of the Diamond most of this is pretty useless in combat. Especially given that the sorcerers in this world can do things like call lightning down from the sky, or create and control thousands of soldiers made out of goo. And compared to the combat capabilities of end-game weapons of other setting? it's chump change. it should be noted that the gems DO NOT allow the wielder to control dragons, only telepathically communicate with them, meaning that the King of Deltora must still negotiate to get any help, and the Dragons are rarely cooperative, even in the face of their own extinction. The gems don't give you the ability to control the elements, warp space and time, kill with a thought, fly, or turn into a glowing giant (whatever the anime adaptation might say to the contrary).

No, what the gems allow the user to do is: keep a level and clear head, detect potentially dangerous situations, and heal people of ailments.

but here's the thing; given what I said about the monsters in deltora, any of the spectacular kinds of magic would be pretty much useless. The Shadow Lord is beyond anything any mortal is capable of fighting; he has integrated his twisted will with the spirit of half a continent, and has experimenting with new and more twisted kinds of magic for thousands of years. Frankly, even by the standards of most "dark lords" like Sauron, Melkor, and Galbatorix, he is unimaginably powerful. a direct confrontation with him is laughable.

so then, why is the Belt considered one of the most powerful objects on the planet?

Well, because what it grants isn't power.

it grants FREEDOM.

freedom is defined as "the power, rooted in reason and will, to act or not to act, to do this or that, and so perform deliberate actions on one's own responsibility. By free will one shapes one's own life. Human freedom is a force for growth and maturity in truth and goodness[...]" -Catechism of the Catholic Church section 1731

in other words, Freedom, properly defined, is not the ability to do what one wants; that is power, not freedom. Freedom is the ability to do what one NEEDS to do. Freedom to protest. Freedom to preach. Freedom to worship. Freedom to defend oneself both physically and legally. These are freedoms.

Now lets look again at what the belt enables one to do. It allows one to clear and calm one's mind and strengthens one's will, heals, protects from certain kinds of danger, and allows one to heal others. These are not powers, they are FREEDOMS.

oh yeah, and I forgot one more of these freedoms:

WHEN ALL THE GEMS ARE PUT IN THE BELT TOGETHER, THEY PRODUCE A MAGICAL SCREEN WHICH BANISHES DARK MAGIC AND THOSE WHOSE SOULS ARE TAINTED BY IT.

it is not combat power, but it is a power FAR GREATER THAN ANY COMBAT POWER COULD EVER FEASIBLY BE

In a sense, this subverts normal fantasy tropes by going back to its roots. When JRR Tolkien wrote the Lord of the Rings, he wrote a book about simple working class and middle class people defeating an evil by DESTROYING POWER (with a One Ring being a kind of stand-in for power itself in all it's forms). yet, it seems that every writer since has taken a look at his work and gone "look at all this cool world-building and monsters and magic! but the protagonists and themes are kinda lame. I KNOW, i'll REPLACE those complex and nuanced themes with EDGY GRIZZLED WARRIORS AND POWER-HUNGRY SORCERERS, and make the story all about CONSOLIDATING AS MUCH POWER AS POSSIBLE TO DEFEAT SOMEONE WHO HAS ALSO CONSOLODATED AS MUCH POWER AS POSSIBLE, BUT IN AN EVIL WAY. sometimes they even have their characters performing actions which are completely morally bankrupt (razing cities, killing civilians or surrendering enemies, etc), and justify it because "main villain is worse". because in other words, most fantasy writers decided to completely rip off all of tolkien's world, down to the very creatures that inhabit it, but HORRIBLY INVERT the themes

Meanwhile, Deltora seems to do the opposite. It doesn't copy Tolkien's world. there are similarities; the Shadow Lord is kinda like Sauron if you squint a little. but the world is populated with plenty of creatures that don't line up at all, and even those that are similar are only superficially so. meanwhile, Emily Rodda (the author) took a look at Tolkien's themes, smiled and nodded, and proceeded to ELABORATE UPON THEM. The kingdom of deltora fell because the rulers detached themselves from the needs of the common man and physically separated themselves from them out of cowardice. the shadow lord twists and destroys nature to produce his horrific experiments which mirror in many ways modern genetic engineering. the battle is won not through force of arms, but through planning, cleverness, and uniting the tribes under a common cause.

there are other things, like how each gem corresponds to one of the seven virtues, or how so much emphais is put on using logic to solve problems, and similar things, but this post is long as it is, so i'm going to stop here.

[jintaka-hane]

Want You Bad

Pt. 1 Right For The Job

Masterlist

Pairing: benn beckman x!reader Summary: Starting a new job is always a challenge, especially when one of your bosses seems aloof and distant with you. What's wrong with him? Is there anything you can do to earn his trust? The story of how Benn Beckman struggles to control his attraction to you onboard. Word count: 1800 Notes: Why do I continue writing about this gentleman? Because I can't stop. This is part 1 of probably... 4. Warnings: forbidden love, oblivious to love, friends to lovers.

"Not bad," you thought, quite pleased with yourself, your eyes darting from one man to the other, trying to decipher what they were thinking.

You had just completed one of the most demanding job interviews of your life, and both the questioning and the practical test had gone rather well.

The rigorous testing and skills demonstration had encompassed various aspects aimed at evaluating your proficiency in maritime knowledge and practical abilities. This included boat handling –from small to medium-sized vessels–, understanding meteorological phenomena and their effects on sea currents, recognizing wind patterns, and managing crisis protocols at sea.

In record time and with a stopwatch in hand, you were required to display your ability to tie various maritime knots, adjust ropes, furl sails, and climb the rigging.

Questions regarding survival techniques and military medicine were also asked, inquiring about first aid procedures: cleaning wounds, disinfecting, stitching up, applying creams to burns and explosion wounds… The interviewers even asked you to apply a tourniquet to one of them.

When it came to social skills, you demonstrated that you were good at connecting with people and working in teams. You had a good sense of humor, and you were loyal if you felt your team was working for a just cause.

And lastly, you showcased your specialty: making precise shots at considerable distances. You adeptly handled various firearms, with your favorite being the revolver for its lightness and practicality. While you were somewhat less enthusiastic about swords, daggers, and other bladed weapons, you could still wield them proficiently when required. You were tasked with shooting at ten different targets, and you effortlessly hit them all without difficulty.

You had, in a manner of speaking, nailed it.

All that remained was for the two men who had interviewed you to deliberate and decide whether you would become part of the red-haired crew, or if, on the contrary, you would have to continue looking for work on other vessels docked at the pier. 

"Thanks, Y/n. Just give us a sec to discuss it, okay?," the captain said, escorting you to the door of the cabin. 

You stepped out onto the deck and settled on a bench, eagerly awaiting a response. To make the wait more entertaining, you retrieved your revolver from its holster and began to clean the gunpowder that was on it. 

The voices of the two men could faintly be heard by the door, but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying. It seemed that if they had to discuss it, one of them was in favor of you being suitable for the job, while the other was not. You could imagine who was who... as during the interview, the captain seemed enthusiastic, while the first mate remained serious and cautious. You just hoped they would reach an agreement soon.

"Well, what do you think? Shall we keep her?" asked the red-haired captain, reclining in his chair and casually placing both feet on the table.

"Not sure, Shanks..." responded the first mate with a somewhat concerned expression.

"Why not? She aced all the tests, she's perfect. Fits right in. It's a yes from me."

"Not sure..." Beckman began to pace slowly around the room, hands behind his back, deep in thought.

"What's bothering you? That she's the only woman on board? I don't think it'll be a problem for the lads, they'll know how to behave... We just gotta lay down some ground rules, and everything will stay in order," Shanks remarked.

"The third shot was almost a miss..." Beckman stopped right in front of the table where Shanks was sitting and looked him straight in the eye.

Shanks lowered his feet, sat up in his chair, and leaned towards his friend, resting his arm on the table. "The third one... and almost... in a job interview where she was probably nervous. Come on Beck, she's one hell of a sniper, Yassop will love her."

Beckman maintained eye contact with his captain, struggling to conjure any objections against hiring the woman. After some pondering, not a single negative argument came to his mind that he dared to voice aloud. The woman was exceptional, and who was he to fight against his captain's eagerness? He let out a resigned sigh.

"Is that a yes?" Shanks' smile grew so wide it almost took up his entire face.

"A’right," he conceded, crossing his arms. 

"Settled then!" Shanks said happily, hitting the table with the palm of his hand. "Let her know. Ask her to pack up and get settled on the ship today”. He rose to his feet and retrieved the cloak hanging over the back of the chair. “I'll talk to the crew to inform the lads”.

“Aye”.

Beckman stepped out onto the deck and found you sitting on the bench, still cleaning your revolver as you waited. Upon seeing him, you immediately holstered the gun and stood up, facing each other. 

An awkward silence hung between you.

With an scrutinizing glance, he studied you, slowly withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from one of his pockets and extracting one. He tapped it against the packet several times, as though he intended to compact the tobacco inside. 

His presence was imposing. You observed his rifle snugly secured to his sash, its stock pointing upward and aimed towards the ground. With just a quick glance, you could tell it was a good gun, and you wondered if he would ever let you shoot it.

He cleared his throat, and your attention snapped back to his eyes.

"The captain wants you to settle on the ship today," he said, calmly placing the cigarette in his lips after speaking.

"YES!" You jumped and clasped your hands together in excitement before immediately realizing your lack of professionalism. "...I mean... thank you!" Your smile was broad.

He withdrew a match and struck it, the flame flickering to life. With a practiced hand, he brought it to the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind to prevent it from extinguishing. For a moment, you considered lifting your own hand to assist him. 

"Go fetch yer things; we'll set sail by mid-afternoon," he added, taking a deep drag.

You already had all your belongings waiting at home. Being a natural optimist, and fairly confident that you would impress them with your skills, you had packed your bags in case they set sail that same day. Your luggage wasn't many, nor were they numerous, as your possessions were scarce being a practical woman who liked to constantly change places to discover new horizons. A bit of practical clothing to allow you to move with agility, some slightly more formal dresses for special occasions, the two or three books you liked the most, and the heaviest to carry: your set of firearms.

"Alright, see you in a bit!" Turning around gracefully, you hurried down the gangway to disembark from the ship.

“Don't be late”, he ordered, exhaling the smoke slowly.

“I won't!”, you shouted without a backward glance.

He watched you sprint down the gangway and leap onto solid ground. You began to run along the pier and, for a moment, you stopped and turned around to see the magnificent galleon from afar. The ropes meticulously fastened, the wood clean and varnished, the cannons stowed yet poised for any confrontation; and the sails, proudly displaying the fierce image of the skull with red stripes crossing its left eye socket. You couldn't help but smile, unable to contain your happiness.

Your new home. 

The enthusiasm on your face gave you an air of innocence that could melt even the most cold-hearted man, Beckman thought, as he rested his arms on the ship's railing, watching as you drifted further away from the ship.

You were enchanting ...

Too enchanting ...

Too enchanting for him ...

And that 's what had made him hesitate. 

His foremost duty as first mate was to ensure the safety of everyone aboard, a task demanding a steady hand and a clear mind in challenging situations that could arise at sea. And he excelled at it, remaining physically and mentally composed when precision and concentration were required. He had a knack for focusing without being sidetracked and that's why Shanks and the rest of the crew relied on him.

Yet, during the interview, his concentration had wavered, his attention captured by every movement you made, captivated by the curve of your shoulders and the line of your neck as you aimed your revolver, resolute in hitting the target. Despite his extensive experience with women, he had never encountered one who, with just a single glance, could distract him so completely.

And that was a problem.

You would be a distraction.

You would be his distraction

But that wasn't reason enough to reject your application; it was his problem, not yours, and under no circumstances would he tell Shanks the truth behind his reluctant behavior, as it would only result in him laughing in his face. It was clear that you were an incredible woman, skilled in various nautical arts and prepared for combat… it was just right to accept that you were perfect for the job.

He should only maintain his professionalism and control his emotions while working with you, and perhaps ... perhaps as the days unfolded aboard, this attraction he felt for you would fade away. You would be like a challenge to him.

Shaking his head, he headed to the upper bowcastle where Shanks was delivering a speech to the men.

"Damn, if we'd crossed paths in a village tavern where I could've let loose, things would have been mighty different," he mused.  He would have scrutinized your expertise in a field entirely different from the one you had been interviewed about, with a mattress serving as the stage for the trials.

Upon reaching the spot where the men gathered, Shanks paused and glanced at him, nodding slightly as an indication for him to come up and stand beside him. Stepping among the crew, he climbed the stairs and positioned himself next to Shanks, putting his hands on his pockets as he surveyed the men.

"... and that's why nobody's, and I mean nobody, is gonna get all lovestruck over her or lay a finger on her...”

Beckman rolled his neck to loosen the muscles and relieve some tension.

“... No peeking, no hitting on her, and definitely no making her feel weird; we'll treat her with respect and keep our mitts off her, got it?"

The men buzzed with excitement at the prospect of a new shipmate. It had been ages since they'd welcomed fresh faces aboard, and they were ready to seize any excuse for a celebration. Beckman observed the scene, inhaling and exhaling smoke from his lungs with a feigned calmness.

“Hey Yassop, looks like they've got you an intern!", Roux said, giving his friend a playful slap on the back.

“I hope she can handle her booze!”

Limejuice shook his head. “Ah, yeah, that is a must, not like the last one...”.

The breeze started to softly sway the rigging, indicating that the afternoon would be favorable for sailing just as they had anticipated.

“Get ready lads! We set sail in the afternoon!”

-------------

Tag list: @i-am-vita @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 in case you're interested!

[troutsoup]

my bloodweave escort au

Alternate universe—no illithids, takes place during the same time period as the game's start.

Newly-escaped vampire spawn Astarion flees to Waterdeep; he's always liked cities, and this one is huge, with more than enough space to go into hiding build a new life for himself. Well-practiced in the skill of seduction and hindered by his inability to go out during the day, he starts work as an escort, complete with a cheesy fake name and a regular clientele. Sure, he'd be more successful with a procurer/manager, but he's trying this new thing called governing himself. Besides, he makes plenty enough to get by.

Gale is surrounded by tressyms, crying into a pint of ice cream getting by just fine, thank you very much. He may not get out much, or talk with anyone besides Tara, and he may spend hours each day reminiscing about his past relationship, but he's surviving. Loneliness is easy enough to overcome, with time. And money.

Can you see where this is going?

Maybe it's Tara that encourages it, please, Mr. Dekarios, we both know you could use the companionship, or maybe she wordlessly leaves the flyer she'd ripped from the city's advertising board on his desk for him to find and be terribly offended by—until that night when he's haunted by dreams of Mystra, and, okay, maybe he should do something about this.

Astarion's nights are booked to the hells and back, but after his regular cancels and a new potential client makes himself known with a magically-sent message (dripping with almost-pathetic desperation), his curiosity is piqued—and he's not going to miss out on some coin.

They meet at an inn.

Gale's hands are shaking when they meet. They're shaking when the elf—who is gorgeous and seems to know it—takes them in his own dainty, pale ones and leads him over to sit on the bed, asks him questions about all manners of things and smiles politely, says his own name to him like it's a secret—Gale of Waterdeep—and Gale's not sure if he's being teased or flirted with but it doesn't much matter when they're kissing, suddenly, or when the elf climbs atop him to grind their hips together, or least of all when he gets Gale's robes undone and brings him off with a practiced hand.

"What can I do for you?" Gale asks, gesturing to him, and he shakes his head, kisses Gale's nose and says, "Aren't you tired, darling, shall we sleep?" And he does, holding the elf while he trances.

He starts to get the sense that despite the circumstances of their meeting, the elf might actually like him.

Astarion realizes quickly that this guy's a fucking moron; the kind of lovesick dweeb he'll be able to drain for some serious cash. He collects the night's due from Gale on his way out, giving himself just enough time to get home before the sun rises.

They keep meeting.

One night: Astarion on his knees with Gale against the wall, whimpering into his elbow because (and Astarion's sure of this) he's never had such good head before.

The next: on the bed, Astarion teaching Gale how to fuck him (he's much too gentle—it's not like Astarion's made of glass, and he says so, and Gale whispers in his ear that he just doesn't want to hurt him).

And then, because Gale keeps begging him to, Astarion lets Gale suck his dick, and he doesn't know what the hell he's doing but Astarion talks him through it and Gale's so damn thrilled about it that it ends up being fun for both of them.

Gale is fucking delighted a very normal amount of excited about their meetings. It's nice to have something to look forward to, but mostly just to feel wanted, even if he has to pay for it. The elf reveals himself to be incredibly quick-witted, and oh is he fun to converse with—they spend the first few hours of their nights together just chatting, and as loathe as the elf is to reveal anything about himself, it's still great to be listened to.

In spite of himself, Astarion starts looking forward to their meetings, too. Gale's sweet to him, and the sex is good, and he doesn't ask Astarion to do any of the weird fetish shit he's accustomed to with some of his clients. At some point, they switch from the inn to house calls, and he can't deny liking Gale's cute little living space, the balcony where Gale reads poetry to him while their legs are slung across each other's on the bench, and most of all his darling tressym, Tara—that is until Astarion arises before Gale does one day and sees Tara staring at him through the mirror where his reflection should be.

Astarion whips around, ready to—well, he's not sure exactly. Pull the dagger he keeps in his boot? Stab her? That's a bit extreme, even for him.

Tara flicks her tail at him. "You can't honestly think we hadn't discovered. Your eyes are red as bloodstones."

"He never said anything—"

"He thinks you're insecure about it. The same way you're insecure about that scarring on your back." And then, calm as anything, she starts a walk to the kitchen. "Come, have some tea. The sun won't rise for hours."

So. The fact that Gale knows about his vampirism settles like a heavy weight on Astarion's chest: the knowledge that Gale sees him as he is and cares about him despite, and the guilt that comes with it.

It only gets worse when Gale comes down with a rough case of I-Can-Save-Him Syndrome, also known as Pretty Woman Disorder—and what used to be questions about how Astarion got into the business start to become questions about what he'd like to be doing, otherwise, and encouragements to pursue other lines of work.

The worst part is that Gale's right in his assumptions—Astarion is sick to death of using his body to trap people. But he doesn't know how to do anything else. He doesn't remember how to do anything else.

Astarion snaps at him one night—"You just want me all to yourself, how pathetic you are to think I'd actually like you for something besides your wallet—" and from the way Gale looks at him, he can tell his little outburst does not have the intended effect; Gale doesn't hate Astarion for it, he hates himself.

Whatever. Not his problem to solve.

He cancels all of his appointments indefinitely and spends a week to himself, draining rats and such. Back to his roots. It feels awful. Is there nothing in this life that will fulfill him?

At least he was making coin before.

Gale messages him again. Something something he's sorry, Astarion was right, please come over. He'll pay for his time.

It's the only reason Astarion acquiesces.

It's startlingly easy to fall back into old patterns as soon as Gale opens his door; Astarion is on him at once; kissing his neck, grabbing a fistful of his robes to pull him closer, ignoring Gale's stop, stop, until he gets a hand on Astarion to shove him away.

Astarion's heart pounds hotly in his chest. What the hells?

But Gale's staring hard at him. "I won't bed you tonight."

"Fine, darling, I could bed you."

"No—" Gale runs a hand back through his hair, frustrated, looking for once like he's got nothing to say.

Astarion has a similar problem. He settles on "You really don't want to bed me?"

"Not tonight," Gale says, surging forward to take Astarion's hands in his own. "I like you," he says, "and I think you like me, too."

"You don't know me."

"I'd like to," Gale continues, unfazed. "Let me."

Maybe it's the wide-eyed, unapologetic vulnerability in Gale's eyes that makes him say yes.

Maybe it's that it's time to try something new.

Maybe he figures it's time to make a decision for himself.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other, huh?"

Gale's smile is shy when he traces the lines of his chest tattoo up his own neck. "We've got the whole night ahead of us."

They sit on the balcony where they can hear the waves.

Astarion tells him everything, starting with his name.

[thelordofgifs]

On Maglor’s Fate

(and why it’s a good thing)

I’ve seen several excellent posts by people far more knowledgeable about HoME than I pointing out that Maglor’s fate in the published silm – wandering the shores in eternal lament – was in fact taken by Christopher Tolkien from a single draft of the legendarium, and that JRRT’s later conception of Maglor’s fate was that he died by suicide at the same time as Maedhros, casting himself into the sea along with his Silmaril. This is a very good point, but despite the fandom’s general lack of adherence to published silm canon (see the prevalence of crispy Amrod truthers, or the lack of consensus on Gil-galad’s parentage) most people seem to have cleaved rather strongly to the idea of Maglor’s survival. Why?

Well, I would like to argue, because it’s SO much more interesting.

Of course, your headcanons are valid! If you prefer thinking that Maglor died at the end of the First Age, go for it; most of the texts support you! But for all the Maglor girlies (gender-neutral) out there, here’s a non-exhaustive list of reasons why Maglor’s survival is better, more satisfying storytelling, and you should continue to cling to this one outdated draft of the silm.

It fits Maglor’s arc better. For such a popular character, I always find it interesting that Maglor is only really developed in the final chapter of the silm – but what we do get in that final chapter is so fascinating. He takes pity on Elrond and Elros, he speaks against stealing the Silmarils, and, most pertinently to my point here, he effectively relinquishes his claim to Eärendil’s Silmaril. The straight line from "its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil", to wanting to surrender to Eönwë, to actually throwing a Silmaril into the sea is SO delicious. A lot of that character growth is wiped out if Maglor instead casts both himself and the Silmaril into the sea.

It better sets up Maglor as a foil to Maedhros. I will never shut up about how Maglor's last debate with Maedhros is the best and most heartbreaking dialogue in the book. Its construction is exquisite, and one of the things I love about it the most is the way they mirror each other's words, becoming, in a way, reflections of each other. ("Who shall release us?"—"If none can release us...") All of Maglor's actions in the final chapter are in direct contrast to Maedhros': compare the fostering of Elrond and Elros with Maedhros' failure to save Eluréd and Elurín, and then consider why it is that Maglor still seems to have some hope that things will all work out (which is why he wants to surrender) while Maedhros despairs completely. That contrast makes it important to me that Maglor reacts in a different, more optimistic manner than Maedhros to the Silmarils burning them. ("More optimistic" by the bleak bleak standards of the end of the silm, at least.) I also really like the kidnap fam parallels of Elros and Maedhros both choosing death in very different ways, whereas Elrond and Maglor both choose life - E&E almost repeating M&M's decisions in a healthier and more wholesome manner.

It better preserves Maedhros' arc. Leading on from the last point, but, I think, separate. Maedhros' suicide, in addition to being just ridiculously tragic, is fascinating. The despair, the profundity of the realisation that it was all for nothing, the idea that Maedhros, who spent decades as a captive of Morgoth, is the one person knows exactly what being burned by the Silmarils means - aahh it's so good I can't dissect it all here. But do also consider Maedhros begging Fingon to kill him, and how he finally got his wish, centuries later! That terrible fall from grace is Maedhros' story. I think having Maglor also die by suicide actually diminishes Maedhros' tragedy, with the rather perverse outcome that two deaths end up being less sad than one.

Unresolved endings are good. This is a rather more personal one, tbh - but I love those last messy loose ends, and Maglor's survival is a quintessential one. Don't the great tales never end? There is, of course, so much excellent fanfic potential in Maglor still wandering Middle-Earth into the Second and Third Ages. Here's a legend from the Elder Days, and you can have him stroll into Rivendell if you want! So much more satisfying than neatly wrapping the story up and tying a bow on top.

As far as I can tell, Tolkien's own reasons for having Maglor die instead were that he wanted Galadriel to be the last surviving leader of the rebellion of the Noldor; I've also seen it argued that Maglor needs to die so that Celebrimbor can be the last surviving Fëanorian. To be honest, I don't think Maglor's survival does much damage to either of these arcs. He's effectively a non-entity after the First Age; the text specifies that he "came never back among the people of the Elves". So you can definitely prefer a version of canon where Maglor lives without losing all those Very Important Feelings about Celebrimbor!

There are, of course, myriad self-indulgent reasons why you might also prefer to think Maglor doesn't die. Maybe you just like him and it would be too sad if he dies; maybe you ship him very specifically with someone born in the Second Age; maybe you just want Elrond to have one thing left after everyone he's lost. I didn't include these in the above list because that was attempting to focus more on literary reasons why Maglor's survival makes for a better story, but they are all so valid and I agree with all of them! But hopefully Points 1-4 can be emphatically whipped out the next time someone implies that the fandom is clinging to Maglor's survival for solely sentimental reasons. There are good, solid grounds for wanting Maglor to live, we promise! It actually improves the story!

you're just jealous our blorbo survives and yours doesn't—

[morgana-ren]

Kindly requesting that you elaborate on the hard dom thing, please. I love your writing!

Since I previously elaborated on why I believe he's a hard-dom, I'll use this as the second part of it and explain what he does and what he prefers in terms of... er... shall we call it 'bedroom etiquette' while skirting a lot of the dirtier details-- unless that's what you were looking for lmao. I'm never opposed to writing filth ever, I just like to make sure it's exactly what you're looking for before I send it.

Astarion is still capable of being quite charming and seductive, albeit not in the same desperate way that he was when it was a survival tool. Now it's more the suave moves of a man fully coming into his confidence. A man who knows what he wants and how to get it. He fully intends to have a relationship with his consort, with a lively and active sex life-- headed by him. Normal sex was something that he was denied. It was never his way, and even when he had a partner that loved and supported him, his traumas got in the way of a healthy intimate relationship. It was never a problem with Tav, but it's obviously something that he is insecure about, as evidenced by several lines when broaching the subject.

It's a man that knows the rules of intimacy well, and can maneuver that aspect remarkably well. You can feel like you have a choice and are being seduced, but in reality, the choice was never yours. You are being told what he expects. The more you push this 'kindness,' the more demanding he will get until he will simply force you to do it.

When he slips his hand around your waist and licks up your neck, whispering softly those well-practiced honeyed words, he knows well the effect it is going to have. You're going to get weak in the knees with a pulsing ball of heat building at the base of your spine.

But... that's where his expertise ends.

He is remarkably skilled at the physical aspect of sex, but keep in mind, it was always what his partner wanted. He was a glorified tool, never allowed to indulge himself with someone he wanted, what he wanted, and how he wanted it. Well, now he fully intends to.

He might ask you to do something, in a manner of speaking. When he says "On your knees, darling" he is offering you a choice. A choice that consists of "You will do this or I will make you." In reality, it's the same choice he had so long ago, which is to say, not really a choice at all.

He is still very much capable of pleasing his partner, as he knows the intricacies of sex and all it entails, but now, it is about him. What he wants. If you get something from him, you are likely being rewarded for obedience or loyalty, or he is manipulating you. I'm sure gifting pleasure is as effortless as breathing at this point, but it is no longer the point.

He may very well ask you for something that you do not want to do. Maybe it's humiliating, maybe it's painful, maybe it's just bizarre. Maybe it's very blatantly something that makes him feel like the big and powerful lord he is. It is something that you will do, because the alternative is having what little control you do have torn away from you. And he will do it. He makes that clear the first few times you have the audacity to tell him no.

Basically, I feel like Astarion is going to finally explore his sexual interests and inner depravities. Keep in mind, this is a deeply traumatized man, and trauma, when ignored, has a way of manifesting. It is a deeply obsessed, possessive man that just sold his soul to the Hells. The lack of control he had before might emerge as a need to be obeyed. He might become cruel and enjoy inflicting pain. He might enjoy eliciting a response from you, such as weeping or begging or squealing. He might enjoy humiliating you for sport and pleasure as a way of inflicting his own inner turmoil upon someone close to him.

He is going to experiment-- and you are going to help him.

If he tells you to kneel before his throne in plain view where anyone can walk in, it's best to just grin and bear it. If he 'finds the wrong hole,' again, you can make him aware, but you are running the risk of spiking is interest. If he wants to hurt you, you can pray that he will be semi-considerate and tend to you after. If it is a punishment, you can expect a level of cruelty that you never would have seen had he not been ascended.

Astarion is a man in pain, and when you take the humanity away, hurt people tend to hurt people. He demands control, and he demands obedience. Perhaps he will tell you to do something simply to test whether or not you will. Just how far your loyalty to him extends. Perhaps he will hurt you, whether it's striking you or biting too hard or squeezing so hard it manages to bruise, and you might find that the wires in his brain have been crossed, and it's arousal that this elicits.

Depending on how depraved he gets, you might be surprised at the things he asks. He might have a few... things... he demands to be called. He might like things that you had no idea a man could like, depending on just how imaginative you are. My guess is that you can bet on it being something that, in a way, victimizes you and leaves you at his mercy.

Perhaps he starts out easy. Fairly generic sex with his name and things you know he likes. But rest assured, it will get far more... degenerate... and rapidly. And he will tell you what he wants with a smile on his face, body language expectant and relaxed, already anticipating your swift action. Now that he is capable of taking that pleasure, he fully intends to.

Astarion, in his ascension, has a terrible relationship with sex. Same as it was for him, it is a punishment that he will use to enact his will and teach you a lesson. It is something that he uses to assert his dominance and take his pleasure, perhaps regardless of what you have to say about it. Remember, he is the lord of the castle. You are his loyal consort. Your body is his. Your mind is his. If he wants to abuse them, he will-- and he shall. Both for his pleasure, and your obedience-- or maybe humiliation.

I have no doubt he is into some things that are utterly wild. Maybe he finds whole new parts of himself. Maybe he gets very strange with the names he likes. Honestly, I can see almost anything working with him. I could literally twist anything into being something he's into. That's the bittersweet positive to Ascended Astarion. You want him to spank you and make you call him daddy? I could see it. You want him to choke you or slap you or tie you up and go by big brother or professor or master or literally anything else? I could see it. Maybe he gets some exotic new tastes. Maybe you walk into the bedroom one day and he's sitting there with a placid smile and some very ominous looking things lying about. Maybe it's a knife. Maybe it's a candle. Maybe it's a whip. Maybe you spend the next four hours partaking in the most humiliating thing of your life while he is utterly gleeful. His body and soul have been twisted and submerged into the black stygian waters of depravity.

It comes with the 'beholden to the hells' territory.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

Mother Ocean: Fjord And The Mighty Nein.

In anticipation of the upcoming animated series, let's talk about Fjord.

One thing that I cannot stress enough...that I cannot stress enough...is how goddamned consistently Freudian Fjord's story accidentally turned out.

Let's take a look at that, shall we? We'll start with a comparison between Fjord and his Campaign One counterpart. 

Fjord and Grog 

Now as different as they seem, Fjord and Grog's stories have at least one big theme in common. The low-key rejection of toxic masculinity. 

In Grog's story, it's less subtle, but in Fjord's, it's more prevalent.

Grog was the runt of his Herd. When he spared Wilhand Trickfoot, a much smaller and physically weaker man Kevdak saw as worthless, he was beaten and left for dead. Later, it's only with the help of his friends (and specifically a gnome, which I always thought was rather poetic) that Grog could take his uncle down.

Fjord is a half-orc who is unusually lacking in strength. A man who grew up in a world where survival was predicated on a tough façade, and he finds it in the voice and manners of his missing captain and father figure because, as he says, when Vandran talked, people listened. Not only that, but he also gained a Warlock patron who pushed him deeper and more desperately into the act. 

But that's only the first part of his story. When he throws away his pact weapon and, with it, his false affectation, another power becomes available to him.

But he's only able to do that because of the influence of the Nein and what they'd been through together up to that point.

Gender Dynamics in The Mighty Nein.

It really can't be overstated how much of a positive influence the Mighty Nein were on each other. Travis has said on Talks that part of the turning point for Fjord was Beau running back to get him during the King's Cage. Fjord was always frantic not to be a liability. But the Mighty Nein always had his back: when the Shepherds abducted him, Yasha, and Jester, and when they were trying to escape from the Laughing Hand alongside a possessed Yasha. And they still did even after that last pushed him to throw away his powers. 

But even before that: traveling with the Nein Fjord was granted something just as significant. If much more ephemeral. 

Caleb is physically weak, soft-spoken, and secretive; but brilliant, tactical, and highly destructive. Mollymauk is flamboyant, shameless, and genderfluid, no stranger to pain and no slouch in a fight. Cad is introspective, slow to anger, and a little spacey but willing to do grim work.

In other words, none of the men are traditionally masculine, but they all repeatedly prove themselves useful, both in and out of battle. 

It doesn't stop with the boys, either. Jester is probably the most traditionally feminine of the women. She's also willful, clever, not afraid to speak her mind, and the second most physically powerful of the group. Yasha is, among other things, a brutal powerhouse who takes absolutely no shit and is endearingly awkward to boot. Nott is tactless, self-interested, and unsophisticated but in no way dumb. And Beau is...well, Beau. She's crass, blunt, always horny on main, and only needs her fists to beat your ass.

The women, as a whole, are partly traditionally feminine at best. Yet, like the boys, all of them can pull their weight in and out of a fight. 

This might've served as a revelation to Fjord. Who, like Grog, by all indications, came from a world where an untraditionally masculine man would've been derided as useless at best.

This, plus the contrast between Avantika's zealous worship of Uk'otoa and Caduceus' calm surety in his reverence for the Wild Mother is a big part of what allows Fjord to see another way forward for himself. 

It makes Fjord's story that of a man looking too hard for his identity in the typically, stringently, and unhealthily masculine, unable to recognize that what he was looking for could be found by tapping into what he would consider his more feminine side. And this makes obvious sense in hindsight, as the sea is a hugely feminine symbol, and the sea was Fjord's first true joy and escape. 

The Freudian stuff.

So we've got a an orphan who came from a background where traditional and even toxic masculinity to the exclusion of the traditionally feminine was regarded as the norm, who in trying to reunite with a found father figure fell into the trap of a sea monster demi-god that exploits that in order to be freed, who learns from his fellow travelers that there are other ways of being that would still allow him to contribute to the group. This leads him to break away from his upbringing and his Patron's influence to embrace the Wild Mother, a nature goddess that ties both into his love of the sea and his status as a man who never knew his mother. And she is a better fit and a better patron for him and just in general than Uk'otoa could ever be. 

All of that is already a pretty thematically consistent storyline. But then, when we get to the Freudian B. S., the knob goes to eleven. And then pops off. 

Our boy is a hexblade (texblade) warlock with a sword for a pact weapon, and his patron is an immeasurably massive sea serpent that comes to him in, well, the cast joked about it: wet dreams.

Now come on. You can't get any more phallic than that unless you're Jester.

As the Nein travel, Fjord becomes a darker, more provocative presence the longer he travels on his patron's pilgrimage. But when Fjord refuses to open the last seal, Uk'otoa gets pissy. He repeatedly rescinds Fjord's abilities, leaving him and the Mighty Nein vulnerable. Fortunately for Fjord, another entity steps in with an offer.

The Wild Mother.

After Fjord has so long chased after fathers and corruptive masculine coded influences connected to them, he is given relief and eventually power from a goddess. Whose epitaph is the Wild Mother? Who is the goddess of the sea, which is the center of Fjord's life?

But I'm not done yet. If you look at the accidental symbolism inherent to the nature of the godly figures involved here, it goes deeper than that.

Uk'otoa is trying to exert control over the Wild Mother's domain. Specifically over the ocean, one of the most recognizable yonic symbols in our collective thematic history. The Wild Mother, after she pulls Fjord free from Uk'otoa's nightmare and into her dream ocean, even calls the space a womb.

So we have an orphan who found a father figure. In trying to reunite with him, he follows in his footsteps and, as Vandran did, falls under the sway of the same snake: a violent, unwanted invader of the womb of a nature goddess called the Wild Mother. That pushed Fjord deeper under his mask of toxic masculine traits.

And this journey he takes, in which he slowly drops that mask, sees Fjord realigning his loyalty, from the phallic victimizer, to the goddess whose yonic space was the target of its attempted subjugation.

To sum it up, we have a story of an orphan sailor who slowly learns to walk away from his unhealthy relationship with masculinity, which is thematically supported by the influence of his less-than-traditionally presenting fellow travelers and his abandoning an abusive and incredibly masculine-coded patron in favor of a divine figure that is not only, in contrast, a goddess but a mother goddess of the sea at that. This is then also supported by the Freudian symbolism inherent in his pact weapon, the form of his patron, the territory it is attempting to invade to rule, and the nature of the goddess who adopts him into her service.

The fact that Fjord and Vandran were both physically intimate with the same woman was just the cherry on top of the Freudian Sunday, my dudes.

Also, note how big of an accident all this was. If Molly hadn't gone down so early, Taliesin would've never made Cad, and there's a big chance the Wild Mother never would've entered the story. And all this symbolism never would've lined up so perfectly. 

(Though, if Molly had lived and a similar thing had gone down with the Moonweaver, it's worthwhile to note there would've been a familiar thematic lineup, as the moon has its own connection to the tides, the sea, and feminine energy. The same themes wouldn't have been as perfect or overt, but they would've been there.)

It's fucking bananas.

Edited for clarity and less redundancy.

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 0

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

warning: mention of suicide attempt

Episode 0 contains major spoilers for Liam’s main story. Please proceed at your own discretion if you have yet to read the main story.

…

Liam Evans, stage actor. That’s my job.

On tonight’s stage as well, I will leave “myself” behind and play my role.

Liam: Thank you for coming to our play tonight!

…

I have another job.

That is—

I’m a member of “Crown”, an imperial organisation under the direct command of Queen Victoria.

…

Victor: Well then— are you ready, gentlemen?

Liam: Of course, Victor. It's been a long time since we last went on a mission together. How exciting.

I changed my clothes immediately after my performance ended, and went from being Liam the stage actor, to being Liam the member of Crown.

Harrison: Calm down a little. Getting too carried away will only result in you being hurt.

Roger: I mean, I can patch you up if it's not a serious injury. But if you die, that just means I have one less person to help me with my research.

Liam: Thanks, Roger. As expected of a former doctor.

It was rare for every member of Crown to be present, and everyone was chatting away.

We’ve never once collectively agreed on anything, but neither do we intend to ever do that. Because that’s what makes us Crown.

William: — Looks like Crown is ready, Victor.

Victor: Ahaha! Good. You lot are so carefree and wonderful as always. Well then, shall we begin?

Victor: Tonight — we pledge ourselves to evil.

…

(Heh, our target for tonight is loaded.)

Amongst the townhouses that lined the streets, it seemed like our target lived in an especially luxurious mansion.

(Even when you have that much money, it’s so easy for your life to come to an end.)

For caution’s sake, my partner Harry and I were to trespass into the mansion 5 minutes later than the others.

(4 more minutes.)

However, it was a bad habit of mine to be unable to keep quiet during times like this—

Liam: … By the way, why did you join Crown, Harry?

Harrison: Of all times, you’re asking me that now?

Liam: I’m kind of bored, so…

Harrison: Weren’t you there when I first joined Crown?

Liam: “I’m not interested in the prosperity of England and other people's freedom. But—”

Liam: “I’m interested in what you guys are doing, therefore you should let me become one of your members.” … Right?

Harrison: Since you remember, then don't ask. That’s all I said to join Crown.

(You still don’t talk a lot.)

I deliberately shrugged my shoulders in an exaggerated manner to show that I wasn't satisfied with his answer.

My partner was the kind of person to give bothersome answers in times like this.

Harrison: I get to use my curse to earn money. Moreover, I have Her Majesty the Queen backing me.

Harrison: It’s a wise choice for people born with curses to join Crown for survival.

Liam: …

Liam: … Even if you have to kill?

Harrison: Everyone has the right to different opinions on whether it’s a wise choice.

(I take it as he doesn't want me to probe any further.)

Everyone had their own reasons for joining Crown.

But I know one thing for sure, and it's that I wouldn't be in Crown if it wasn't for “something”.

Harrison: Hey, Liam. Why did you join Crown?

Liam: I…

(The reason why I joined Crown…)

…

I was once admitted into a mental hospital for a certain reason.

White, empty walls. Uncomfortable examination clothes. Painful treatments that had no effect.

— There was no knowing when I would be released from that place.

I didn't know whether I even wanted to leave.

One day, I leaned out of the hospital’s window feeling absentminded and lethargic.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind.

Victor: With your hands stretched out like that, you look like a bird. Unfortunately, humans don’t have wings.

Victor: So if you fall… yeah.

Victor: Since you’re feeling lost, I have a suggestion for you. What do you think about using your life to serve Her Majesty?

Liam: … Her Majesty?

Victor: I’m currently on the search for members to join an organisation that carries out missions under secret orders from Her Majesty.

Victor: The organisation is a group of people who “fight evil with evil”.

Victor: So I’m here to ask if you're interested in joining. I guess you could say that I’m some sort of scout.

Liam: … Why me?

Victor: The first reason is because you have a curse. And the second reason is— I want you to release the dark side of you.

Victor: Then you will be free to fly around in the pitch black darkness.

Victor: I’m just kidding. Hey, hey, didn't I look cool saying that? Ahaha, this is fun!

There was something off about the words and actions of the man with beautiful eyes and long hair.

But I wasn't any more normal than him either.

There was only one reason why I decided to join Crown.

And it was that someone reached their hand out to me.

Victor: Now — pledge your allegiance to evil. Nice to meet you, Liam Evans.

…

(But I can't possibly tell others that my reason for joining Crown is that small.)

My reason felt too insignificant.

Liam: Hmm… I forgot!

Harrison: Oh well, it's not like I was interested in finding out. Anyway, 5 minutes is up. Let’s go.

Liam: Ah, wait! Maybe it was just because I liked you.

My partner’s special ability enables him to know when someone’s lying. He definitely saw through my lie.

But I was grateful that he didn't expose me for lying.

Liam: Ah, I’ll make myself disappear just in case.

Harrison: No one will be able to recognise you this way. How very convenient.

Liam: I know right?

I used my abilities to disappear and followed after Harry.

My reason for joining Crown was unclear.

The fact that I was a stage actor wasn't worth praising either.

As long as I’m useful, they won't get rid of me.

(There’s one thing I can never tell anyone.)

And it was my special ability to disappear.

…

I wanted to erase myself from existence.

But the words of “that person” who died saving me from that fire were the only thing keeping me alive.

I was confined to this world.

…

By the time we entered the mansion, the interrogation process had already ended.

After scanning my surroundings, I made myself reappear.

Liam: By any chance, is it our turn yet?

Will’s fingers danced across the piano in the mansion.

(I wonder what song this is? I’ll ask Will about it later.)

Will narrowed his blood red eyes sharply.

(Ah, he’s going to use his special ability.)

He used his ability to “make others obey his every command” and sang along with the tune playing on the piano.

An anguished look appeared on the target’s face as he held a knife to his own neck—

Kate: Um… excuse m—

Kate: — mmph!?

A girl stood next to the man who died because he was controlled by Will's special ability.

(This girl…)

The blood that spurted out soaked her pretty face.

(Is she involved in tonight's mission? This wasn't written in the protocol, though.)

Alfons: My, my… I wasn’t expecting an audience tonight.

William: Now look who we have here, aren't you the little robin I met earlier today?

Kate: Um…uh… eeh…?

(Huh?)

Liam: She’s acquaintances with Will? Does she know about us?

If she was an acquaintance of Will’s and meant to be there, then —

I thought to myself, “she’s safe”.

Because if anyone were to find out about Crown’s secret, they would be silenced.

William: We merely exchanged a few words on the streets, Liam. She doesn't know about ‘Crown’.

(Does that mean that they don't actually know each other, and she’s here by pure coincidence?)

(Wow, she’s one very unlucky girl.)

I suddenly made eye contact with her.

Her eyes were filled with fear and anxiety, it made me feel sorry for her.

Liam: Then we’re in trouble. What should we do…?

I stared into her eyes and a thought surfaced in a corner of my mind.

I was always looking for an excuse to disappear.

So I needed a reason to remain in this world.

Therefore, while playing my role as a stage actor, I condemned evil as a member of Crown.

(Does this girl want anything from me…?)

(Does she need me?)

If there’s anything you want from me,

(I’ll stay alive for you.)

[nehswritesstuffs]

Siblings of Water

If all my years of reading One Piece has taught me anything it’s A) remember minor characters, and B) always check for a shown corpse.

6211 words; set post-Wano but also pre-whatever-the-flip nonsense our lads are in at the moment; if something like this ever went down I would freaking scream and idk if anyone in a five mile radius would survive; we need more good blood-siblings in this series because as of this posting the best blood-siblings have been, like, the Ryugu royals and two sets of Wano sibs unless I’m missing someone don’t try to lie to me about any Charlotte shenanigans (though really this has the side-effect of tons of adoptive siblings/found family that are excellent and I admit I am greedy and want it all); one of the most sensible and natural real-world equivalent languages for Law to probably speak is Northern Low Saxon you can’t change my mind I’m not getting out of this chair this has little to do with the fic but it is important to me; we also need Trafalgar Family angst so here we are; this is my 200th fic on FFN and that’s not only pretty cool but my 20th fic was also my first One Piece fic and that was even well before these jokers showed up in the story so idk what that says about a lot of things

Siblings of Water; After their adventures in Wano, the Heart Pirates stumble a quiet island that holds a very jarring surprise for their captain.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Nuh-uh; you’re coming with us,” she said. She was standing in the doorway to his cabin, completely not-caring that he was giving her an absolutely murderous look from his position reclined on his bed.

“It’s festival season—I’m not going,” he replied. He tried to look as though he was going back to the highly academic tome of Magicks and Poshuns of Wano and Her Dauters, though in reality, he was simply trying to hide a copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea from everyone’s prying eyes.

“You were barely at any of the parties in Wano.”

“I was obliged to attend in a nominal and symbolic manner,” he countered. “I’m all festivaled out.”

“Yeah, where you were there for five minutes before wandering off.”

“I enjoy wandering.”

“Wander the festival.”

“I can’t be guaranteed there shall be other adults there.”

“We’ll be there.”

“I know.”

Narrowing her eyes, Ikkaku made an extremely executive decision and stepped into the cabin and grabbed onto Law’s ear, tugging until he closed the book and got out of the bed. She pulled him through the submarine—to the shock of all their crewmates lingering just outside in the corridor—until she had him above deck and down the gangplank and on solid ground again.

“Now, you are going to go with us to the festival, and you are going to enjoy yourself, and you aren’t going to use wandering as an excuse to make your way back here,” she demanded. The rest of the Heart Pirates watched from atop deck, wondering whose will was going to win this time.

“It still doesn’t mean I want to,” he growled.

Ikkaku crossed her arms across her chest, unfazed. “Bepo!”

“Yes, ma’am…?”

“You’re in charge of making sure Law stays out here!” she said. The bear blanched.

“Now that’s not entirely fair,” Law noted.

“It’s fair,” she reasoned. “Stay with us, you’ll be fine. Try to run away and you’re getting sat on by an ass full of fur and Electro that also happens to have you wrapped around his little claw.”

“I am not.”

“We all are and you know this.”

A beat.

“I hate you.”

“You need to touch grass more often, you weird hermit-man.”

“I just touched a lot of grass for an extended period of time, thank you.”

“More often, dweebus.” She then glanced over at the rest of the crew, who shivered in response. “Let’s go, lads! Fun awaits!”

“…but what if someone tries to steal the Tang?” Law asked. Bepo walked up to him and put a comforting paw on his shoulder.

“No one other than Ikka can get the thing started properly,” he grimaced. “Sorry, but, we’re stuck.”

“We were able to work it before she joined up.”

“That was before she made the modifications. It’s mostly anti-theft measures, but if we’re the thieves…”

“I should have left you all on Strawhat-ya’s deck like orphan puppies.”

Bepo didn’t respond to that, which only made Law sigh in resignation.

“Okay, yeah, I’d never do that.”

“Glad you’re aware.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Festivals always made Law feel extremely uncomfortable. It reminded him of a time when he would rather study than anything else, sending a searing pang of guilt ripping through his heart. It all reminded him of then, of them, and he was doing his best to seem as disaffected as possible while still trying to figure out a way to speed-chess his way back to the Tang without any repercussions.

Well, at least the beer was decent. It was actual beer at that—Wano had fine native brewing traditions, but none of them resulted in beer. Law found himself huddled over a tankard of stuff leagues better than whatever swill it was that Kaido imported as his crew held him hostage in a picnic area, with them taking up two whole tables on one end, while a band set up on the other end near a stage. Stalls boxed in the varying picnickers and festival-goers alike, which made the particular pirate captain skittish.

“Relax,” Ikkaku smirked into her own beer. It was her first; Law’s third. “You look like a cornered cat.”

“I feel like a cornered cat,” he scowled. Bepo brought over another pile of soft pretzels for the table, which Law wordlessly shambled into bits with ease. Maybe he could get away with wanting to go back in another hour… “Whatever happened to a captain’s veto?”

“It’s because the captain knows that I could have either pulled him by the ear, or the earrings.” Ikkaku popped a bit of pretzel into her mouth and nodded—not bad. “Besides, it’s quality time with just us. It’s been a while since it was just us, all together, no other weirdos in the mix.”

“Yeah, come on, Cap,” Penguin chuckled. “You know, this is why you don’t get laid.”

Shachi choked on his pretzel bite so badly that Law had to get it out.

“Can we please save talk of my non-existent love life for, oh, I don’t know: never?” Law growled.

“All I know is that you’re Emperor material and got nothing to show for it,” Penguin noted. “You could be slaying anything you wanted, as much as you wanted.”

“I hate this conversation.”

“Our captain doesn’t seem like the ‘slaying’ type, though,” Clione offered.

“I really hate this conversation.”

“Yeah,” Penguin nodded, “you’re right—we’d need to recruit whomever it is to the crew, just so they can get to know each other first, then we let them on private shore leave.”

“I swear if this conversation goes on any further I am going to put up the biggest Room I can and drop you in the ocean.”

“You’re in luck, grumpass,” Ikkaku said. She pointed at the stage. “Looks like someone’s coming up to talk—she’s got a transponder snail.” Sure enough, most of the picnic area went quiet, waiting for the person that Law was flat-out refusing to look at out of sheer principle.

“Hi everyone!” a cheery woman said into her Den Den, voice amplified by the tiny snail. “For those of you visiting today, my name is Milla, and I’m one of the island’s resident doctors and chairwoman of this year’s festival!” She paused to let people clap, during which Shachi whistled lowly.

“Oooh, she’s a cutie,” he noted.

“…and probably too smart to be taken in by your dumb ass,” Penguin chortled. The pair kept elbowing one another as the chairwoman continued.

“I just wanted to extend a very warm welcome and thank you from the rest of the committee and island to you,” she said. “Festivals are one of the things that really keeps us going here in the Grand Line, punctuating our seasons in a way that the weather is incapable of doing. It was the same in the town where I grew up, in an icy Blue far away from here, though for different reasons, of course.”

“Huh… she’s from the North?” Hakugan wondered. Despite the fact Law was the one who rolled his eyes, it was Ikkaku who replied.

“The South Blue’s cold too, you know,” she said. She patted Law’s forearm, feeling that his muscles and tendons were tight under his shirt as he held the ale tankard. “Relax.”

“Festivals… really aren’t my thing…”

“You tried that—now stop being so tense and just enjoy some time out of the fart-box.”

“Now,” the chairwoman said, “I’ll sing you a song from that sea to officially open up our festivities. It’s an old one, but it has always warmed my heart after all these years. The music’s not the same, so bear with us, please, if you heard it before. Alright! Hit it!”

The music was slow at first, haunting and eerie—something very out-of-sorts for an otherwise-bright festival. It twisted and turned and reached deep into the crowd that was barely able to contain its excitement. The Heart Pirates mostly gave the chairwoman their attention, the entire orchestra silent except for a singular violin. Then another joined in, then a piano, and finally, the chairwoman herself in words just barely familiar to the Hearts. The North dripped from her voice as she sang a ballad of old heroes and exciting tales; a song of heartbreak and death; a tale of life and what horrors it brought. After the following chorus, the orchestra picked the tempo up slightly, bringing more instruments into the fray.

“Are you alright, Captain?” Ikkaku wondered. The Heart Pirates all looked at Law and saw that he was deathly pale, as though he was sitting across from a ghost instead of Uni. His hands—always surgeon-steady—were trembling and he was chewing on his lower lip.

Adjusting slightly, Law turned so that he could see the festival chairwoman as she continued her song. His eyes went wide and his breath hitched—no… it couldn’t be…

The very image of his mother stood atop the stage.

“Law…? Hellllooooo…” Penguin waved his hand in front of his captain’s face, failing to break him from the trance. “Oh, shit, this isn’t good.”

“Do you think maybe they sang this back where he’s from?” Clione asked. The crew at-large did not know much, but they did know better than to say the White City’s name aloud.

“Why else would he behave this way?” Shachi frowned. He tried snapping his fingers next to their captain’s ear—nothing. “We’re gonna have to take evasive action if this doesn’t stop.”

Then, suddenly, Law stood up, facing the stage and the chairwoman on it. He stared at her, eyes now resolute, watching her as she finished the chorus. His standing there was not out of place, as there were still many around and in the seating areas who were milling about and moving from stalls to tables, yet there was no one else who proceeded to do what he did upon the next verse and an additional strengthening of the tempo…

...Trafalgar Law started singing.

Heart Pirates and villagers alike began to stare, wondering about how he knew this song. His crew’s jaws all dropped at the sound of his singing voice; low and clear, it was one that invoked the idea that he might have even had training at one point—when in the hell did their captain sit with a vocal coach?!

As he continued to sing, Law began to walk up towards the stage. The festival chairwoman saw him and skipped a line of verse, though quickly collected herself and pretended to beckon him up to share the microphone snail with her. They reached the chorus and the band picked up the tempo again, the song now fully becoming cheerful and vibrant and full.

“I’m sorry,” Bepo squeaked, slackjawed, “but in all my years of knowing the captain, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I think this is the weirdest thing any of us have ever seen,” Shachi replied, “and we literally just helped take down two Emperors and an authoritarian regime.”

“He’s smiling,” Ikkaku marveled. “Holy shit he’s smiling… and no one’s about to die.”

“I… don’t feel safe,” Jean Bart muttered. His smaller crewmates all unanimously agreed—there was something that did not feel right about this entire thing, as though their captain might have been in a trance, or in some grave danger.

“Oh, no, he’s dancing,” Shachi groaned. The acute sense of horror that set in amongst his and the other Hearts’ very souls was palpable. “None of this is right. They replaced the captain with a fake…”

“It might be he never found the opportunity before…?” Bepo offered.

“The opportunity to folk dance?!”

“Oh, sorry…”

One more round of the chorus and the song ended, with Law and the chairwoman laughing while taking their bow together. The Hearts watched as their captain ducked down and whispered something in the woman’s ear, her expression startled as she took him by the hand and dragged him off the stage.

“Let’s give him fifteen minutes,” Penguin decided. “If this isn’t resolved by then, we’re going to have to take evasive action and get him back to the Tang for a debrief.”

“What if she’s killed him by then?” Uni asked. Penguin shrugged.

“Maybe Straw Hat’s accepting applications…?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Still completely stunned, Law allowed himself to be dragged throughout the backways of the festival by the chairwoman. She hid their path behind stalls and tents as she ducked into a small tent, which was occupied by some other festival officials.

“I need to question this man,” she said firmly. The other two looked at each other, then at her.

“He knew the song,” one noted. “That was a pretty neat trick you pulled.”

“Yeah, and I need to talk to him about it, because random people here just don’t know near-extinct folk songs from the North Blue,” the chairwoman frowned. The other two shrugged at that and left, promising that they would not be disturbed. Once they were out, the chairwoman muttered lowly as she drew the flaps, making it so no one saw them either.

“You know,” Law stated in Northern, “I could honestly say the same thing about you.” He watched as the chairwoman spun on her heel to look at him and he felt an intense sadness creep over him again. This woman, wearing his mother’s face, able to sing a song he hadn’t heard in over fifteen years… it was a sick joke.

“Say it again,” she demanded. “What did you say on the stage?” He exhaled heavily

“I am the Law, you are the Lam.” He watched as her face went pale at the words. “You called yourself something else though…”

“Milla—it’s what I go by thanks to… you know… our name being dangerous.” She watched as he pulled off his hat and scratched at his scalp. Tears began to form in her eyes and her voice grew strained, croaking. “I… thought I forgot what Dad looked like… but he just looked like you.”

“…and you look like Mom.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah.”

The two siblings stood there in the tent awkwardly until Law quietly opened his arms, allowing his sister to crash into a hug. They both cried as they held each other, neither wanting to let go, nor wholly believing it was real.

“Lami… I thought you died.”

“I thought you died, Law,” she replied. “I saw what was left of your classmates… the Sister’s habit… I thought you were already taken away and buried.”

“No one severely hurt me, not physically, but I did get out to the countryside in one of the carts,” he admitted quietly. “When I got back to the hospital, it was in flames, so I did what I could to survive.” He held her at arm’s length and marveled at the fact they were even there. “How did you get out?”

“There was a man who came in before the fire and took me and some of the other kids; they probably would have taken you too had you stayed,” she explained. She then hesitated, wondering how to continue. “What do you know about a place called Punk Hazard?”

“More than I should,” he said lowly.

“We were taken there by the man from the hospital. He said that he was in charge of a program under Dr. Vegapunk meant to cure us, make us better. There was a doctor on the team who knew Dad and she started on me first, since my case was the most severe.” Tears were now streaming down her face in earnest. “She took it all out of me, Law! It was as if it never happened!”

“What did she do? What happened to the rest of the children? What…?”

She shook her head.

“After it was proven I was fully cured, she was killed for the Devil Fruit power that she used to do it, and all of us kids ordered destroyed as evidence. I only survived because her son, one of the nurses, smuggled me out.” She had to brace herself by holding onto the back of a chair. “Sorry… just… the very fact you’re alive right now and we’re talking… I…”

“Lami, my name has been all over the papers—I have one of the highest current bounties of all pirates—how did you not know I was alive?”

“I read medical journals, not the newspaper,” she defended. “Close I get is my coworkers leave me the comics section.”

“I have bounty posters.”

“I have literally been here the past five years, becoming a resident doctor and pouring my heart and soul into this place. If it happened during that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s another thing,” Law noted. “Since when were you interested in being a doctor? I last saw you when you were five and you wanted to be a unicorn when you grew up.”

Lami shifted uncomfortably. “Like I said: I thought you were dead.”

He shook his head, a laugh on his lips. “Then you’re going to love what they call me.” A newspaper caught his eye and he picked it up; yes, it was the most recent edition. He found the bounty posters hidden inside and took out his own, passing it to her. She blanched as she read it, realizing exactly what it was her brother had become.

“‘Surgeon of Death’,” she read aloud. “Then you became a doctor too…? Just like Mom and Dad…?”

“At first I really just wanted to kill and destroy as much as I could after leaving Flevance, but by the time I had been cured, something had shifted.” He then looked at Lami, eyebrow raised. “How did the doctor on Punk Hazard cure you?”

“Devil Fruit,” she shrugged. “A twitch of her fingers and she could take me apart bit by bit without it hurting. She could even take things out of me without opening me up. Never did learn what it was called… but that doesn’t matter, because the Government I’m sure has it now, having a crony use it to make Pacifistas or something equally as horrible.”

Law shook his head and quietly opened a Room that surrounded her. “I wouldn’t say that.” He disassembled her right arm and she gasped, completely taken aback. “It must have slipped from their fingers, but I hear that it ended up in good hands.” He put her back together and she started to sob uncontrollably. She didn’t even resist when he pulled her into another hug, feeling more like they were children again than anything.

Then, without warning, Lami stopped making sound.

It wasn’t as though she stopped crying—oh no, she was still sobbing, borderline violently in fact—but as far as making noise? Completely quiet. He stared at her in silence, only to realize something: the entire time they had been in the tent, there was no audible evidence that they were in the middle of a festival.

“Lami?” She looked up at him and froze, realizing what had happened.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m usually much better at controlling that.” She cringed as her brother grew gravely serious, as though everything relied on her answer to his next question.

“Since when have you been able to use a Devil Fruit?”

“Since I was about… I don’t remember… eleven…? Twelve…? I wasn’t paying attention because I was studying while traveling—thought it was a fancy apple.” It then hit her that he got her to unknowingly out herself, to which she scowled. “How could you tell it was a Fruit and not something else?”

“The man who saved me had your Devil Fruit,” he said. Law went to the tent flaps and looked outside—he couldn’t hear a thing until he psychically stuck his head out, retreating quickly. “I had no will to live, and then… he stole me from a pretty dangerous place too.”

“Then maybe, somehow, they both knew that we had to live in order to meet one another again… to give our names back their meaning.”

Law simply held out his hand, Lami staring at it warily. “Will you come with us, then? We could use a tactical advantage like you.”

“…but I’m not good at fighting.”

“…but you are good at this.” Law gestured with both arms at the tent surrounding them. “How long is the festival?”

“Until tomorrow night.”

“Think about it—we can afford to relax for another day.” He held out his hand again. “At least come meet my crew…?”

“Later; I’ve got… oh, shit, I’ve got things to do for the festival!” Lami panicked and went to exit the tent, only for her to be met with Shachi catching them as he was walking by. He started shouting at the two of them—despite the unknown silence—with Lami backing into the tent again as he approached.

“—and furthermore—!” He paused as he stepped over the threshold of the tent, blinking in confusion. “What the hell just happened? Where’s all the noise?”

“Nagi Nagi no Mi—Calm Calm Fruit—I can literally negate noise okay bye!” Lami skirted around Shachi and ran out of the tent, the noise barrier lifting as she went. Shachi watched her leave, then stared at Law curiously.

“What was that…?”

“Long story.”

“I’ve been around you for long enough—I got time.”

“Longer than we’ve known each other.”

“That’s… a long time.”

“Indeed.” The pair walked together back to where the rest of the crew was waiting nervously, all eyeing their captain in an attempt to figure out what happened. Law downed the remainder of his beer in one go and placed the tankard back on the table. “Drank, sang, danced; I think I’ve touched enough grass to earn the right to go back to the Tang.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Ikkaku nodded. They all watched as he stormed away, stride a bit too quick for normal. “Shit—looks like someone’s going to be grumpy all night. Let’s give him a bit, then grill him good.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Bepo grimaced.

“It’s what we have available to us, or else no one is going to enjoy this festival,” she shrugged. She popped a bit of pretzel in her mouth and sighed dramatically—traveling with a bunch of men certainly was tiresome sometimes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The very moment that Law returned back to the Polar Tang, he went directly into his cabin and locked the door behind him. It did not matter that he literally had the entire ship to himself—only when he was inside the safety of his private quarters did he break down and allow himself to sob in earnest, curled up on his bunk and allowing himself a weakness he rarely indulged in, for what was the captain of a pirate crew except for strong?

Hours passed and Law laid there, his entire body shaking in trepidation. After all these years, all this time, his sister was alive. She was here, in the Grand Line, and alive.

Trafalgar D. Water Lami was alive.

Two of them survived.

After everything that tried to silence them over the years, they were still alive.

Fuck, he couldn’t stop thinking that word.

Alive.

Suddenly, he was restless. Law quickly stood and began pacing in his tiny cabin. Rarely had he felt as though he was going to bounce off the fucking walls, but that’s where he was, and he needed to calm down. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at his hands, remembering what it was she had said earlier.

…I… thought I forgot what Dad looked like…

A weight dropped in his stomach.

…but he looked just like you.

Slowly, Law turned towards the mirror that was hanging in his sliver of a washroom. His mouth felt very dry all of a sudden as the face staring back at him stripped away the very thing he did his best to not address all these years. He grabbed onto his chair and shakily leaned on it—fuck, oh fuck, why did this hurt? Why was this so hard? His chest felt tight as he reached for a box sitting on a shelf, gingerly placing it on the desk before opening it. He pulled out a pair of charred eyeglass frames and shakily put them on, the thin metal burnished and lens-less, confirming everything bearing down on him. His eyesight blurred as tears distorted it, knowing that she assured him of the cruel joke that he had been terrified of all these years.

He really did look like their dad.

“Captain…?” It was Hakugan, pounding at the door, startling Law as he took the frames off in a panic. “Captain, you’ve got a visitor!”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he growled.

“That’s why Penguin sent me, because I don’t do that shit, apparently.”

Law put the eyeglass frames back in the box and placed it back in the box. He took a deep breath and opened the door, seeing the unchanging expression of his crewmate’s mask. “Who is it?”

“That lady you were singing with; she’s insisting we let her talk with you.”

“Is she in the Tang?”

“No; top deck.”

“Then I’m going to need you, Clione, and Bepo to run crowd control and make sure that no one bothers us.”

“Shachi says she’s got a Devil Fruit…”

“It’s a silencer, nothing more.” He waited until Hakugan stepped aside before heading up towards the roof of the ship. There was Lami, standing by the gangplank, a knapsack over her shoulder and a duffle bag in her hand as the rest of the crew gawked at her. Law calmly walked up to her, hearing the noise of the crew fade away as he entered her space. “That was fast.”

“They recognized you,” she said simply. “My committee members might have pulled a coup and voted to relieve me of my duties so I can go sail with my brother.”

“Do they…?”

“One says we look alike, but I don’t think that at all,” she laughed weakly. “They don’t think we’re eloping at least.”

“Well, that’s good,” he shuddered. He could feel a presence behind him, who he knew to be Bepo not only due to Haki and long-friendship with the bear, but also due to the way his sister’s eyes lit up. “What is it, Bepo?”

“I’m sorry, but, what’s going on…?”

“Oh, yeah, the rest of you are here,” Law frowned. He turned towards the rest of the crew and motioned towards Lami. “She’s staying.”

“Uh… Captain…?” Shachi said warily. “Why is the island’s festival chairwoman staying?”

“Lami’s staying with us for a while,” Law stated, leaving no further room for comment. “Ikkaku, it looks like you’re getting a women’s quarters after all.”

“Yes!” the aforementioned engineer grinned as she pumped her fist. “Keep asking and good things will come!”

“You know that, statistically-speaking, it was only a matter of time before another woman started traveling with us,” Uni stated. “Women are half the world.”

“Yeah, but for some reason there’s only a fraction of us on the seas, let alone the Grand Line,” she fired back. “So, Lami, was it? You and I need to talk about how we’re going to build this room, because it’s going to be a very important haven when these dweebs start doing shit like running around naked on laundry day or when they decide to induce shedding on Bepo or start playing Rivet, Rivet, Better Skip It…”

“You’re just jealous that you never win because you suck,” Penguin smirked.

“I ‘suck’ because, reportedly, ‘fuck you’,” Ikkaku sneered, using liberal amounts of air-quotes. She then grabbed onto Lami’s upper arm and pulled her along, disappearing into the bowels of the Tang. The rest of the crew simply stared at Law.

“I thought we were only really recruiting people from the North Blue,” Uni mentioned. “Y’know, barring Bepo and Jean Bart.”

“She is.”

“She knew a song, Captain—that doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves more than you know.”

“Was she from Flevance?” Everyone looked over at Jean Bart, who seemed reserved in his accusation, making the large man seem so incredibly timid. No one else said a word, instead turning their attention towards their captain.

Instead of responding verbally, Law simply went down beneath the deck, finding where Ikkaku had dragged Lami off to; they were in the mess hall, the former having pulled out an impressive set of schematics that were boggling the younger’s mind.

“You sure you’re alright like this?” he asked. She glanced up at him, very clearly as though she knew the blueprints were over her head.

“I think so…” She ran her fingers over a cutaway illustration and her brow furrowed. “I can do complicated surgeries and can identify any humanoid organ by sight alone, but this…”

“She’s like a surgeon, but for a ship, in a way,” Law shrugged. “What we do with people, she does with metal.”

“Then you’re also a doctor?” Ikkaku noted. “Nice. You and the captain will make a good team then.” She waggled her eyes at Law, who scowled at her grouchily.

“Lami is my sister,” he said, deciding to cut that off at the bud. Ikkaku froze in place, letting the information wash over her before slowly nodding.

“Does anyone else know this?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else allowed to know this?”

“The crew is, yeah, but remember: they are a bunch of dumbasses.”

“True enough.” She then glanced over at Lami, who seemed to be flushing pink in embarrassment. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“I ate a Devil Fruit that makes everything quiet and I love reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea and festivals are literally my favorite thing ever and have been since I was little.”

“That actually explains a lot,” Ikkaku chuckled. She gave Law a shit-eating grin, one that sent a chill down his spine. “Don’t worry, Captain; we’ll take care of your little sister, not a problem.”

“LITTLE SISTER?!”

The three turned towards the doorway to find the rest of the crew standing by the mess hall’s entrance, jaws dropped in astonishment. Penguin and Shachi were so moved, even, that they both started crying.

“You came through for us and got the crew a cute little sister after all!” Shachi sobbed.

“Yeah, Captain! We’ll treat her just as we would our own little sister!” Penguin added tearfully.

“Neither of you have a sister, which begs many a question,” Law deadpanned.

“Not to mention how in the hell they’ve been treating me all these years,” Ikkaku griped. Lami went and surprised them both, along with the entire rest of the crew, by going between them and bowing at the waist.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my brother all these years!” she said. When she straightened, her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “It’s been my dream to find someone from Flevance again, and for it to be my brother… you have no idea what it means to me!”

“Big brothers are the best, aren’t they?” Bepo asked cheerfully. Lami mirrored his smile despite the tears leaking down her face.

“They really are! Especially when you haven’t seen them in a long time!”

Bepo brought Lami into a tight hug and the rest of the Hearts cheered—a new younger sister! The captain’s younger sister at that! Things really were looking up.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Pudding had long ago accepted the fact that she was a hostage, waiting to be rescued. In fact, she was perfectly fine with the idea that she was perfectly helpless until at least one of her siblings arrived. Was it going to be an enjoyable reunion? Probably not. What she also knew, however, was that the two men that made up her guard were complete and utter thugs.

“Mommy’s dead—she ain’t gonna help ya,” the guard on the left grinned. She felt the undying urge to take a shower just from him looking at her.

“I have more powerful people behind me than just my mother, if you’re that set on her dying,” she huffed. “Katakuri is a very protective older brother, I’ll have you know.”

“If he can bother hunting down one little lamb while the rest of the flock is panicking in the power vacuum?” Right chuckled. “I doubt. Mommy and Uncle Kaido kinda played into our commodore’s hands.”

“Hmm… I doubt.”

“Oh, you’re gonna doubt a lot of shit once the commodore’s done with you, girlie,” Left chortled.

Ugh. So fucking cringe.

Just then, Pudding noticed that as the two guards moved to better face—and therefore better taunt—her, two women came into view. One with curly hair and the other with hair pulled back in a neat bun, they both were motioning for her to keep quiet. Neither of them seemed to give off the same vibe as the rest of the crew, so Pudding decided to play along. Well, how bad could it get?

“Uh-huh, sure, as though he’d even know what to do with me.”

Without making a sound, both women moved behind the guards, the one with the curly hair hitting them in the back of the head with an oversized wrench to knock them out. The other woman grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell, the keys refusing to make even a single clinking noise. She approached Pudding and touched her pointer and middle finger to the teen��s lips before beginning to work on the restraints.

“Charlotte Pudding, I presume?”

“…and to whom do I owe this rescue?” she asked. “You don’t look like you’re from the Family.”

“Let’s just say we don’t think that a cute kid like you should be with these gross molesters-in-waiting,” the curly-haired woman smirked. She gave Pudding a wink, then a pistol. “I’m Ikkaku, this is Lami. Our captain’s providing us a distraction as we speak.”

“…and how do I know that I’m not walking right from one den of crazies into another?” Pudding asked. The two older women glanced at each other and shrugged.

“I swear on my belching metal baby, the Polar Tang, that we’re actually pretty decent,” Ikkaku claimed.

“…and I swear on my Hippocratic Oath that I would not do anything to provoke harm, nor allow senseless acts to be committed towards anyone under my care, which you now are,” Lami stated.

“So, really, we’re weird, but in an ‘everyone is weird’ sense,” Ikkaku shrugged, “or a ‘our gruff captain is a secret comic book nerd’ sort of sense.”

“I have over eighty siblings—I think I can handle that,” Pudding deadpanned. She tied up her skirt and turned all three eyes towards her rescuers. “Want to cause some trouble on the way out?”

“You sure that’s fine to do with the crew of your mother’s killer?” Ikkaku wondered, eyebrow raised. Pudding simply shrugged.

“It’s either cause some trouble with you two, or…” she grimaced at the sight of her prior jailers, “I get into trouble with these guys. My options aren’t exactly great right now.”

“Then maybe it’s a good thing that we put extra bunks in the women’s quarters after all,” Lami nodded. She then quickly looked over Pudding with a glance—they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No…” The young Charlotte looked at her rescuers cautiously. “You seem pretty calm.”

“Regarding what?” Ikkaku asked. An explosion went off on the other side of the wall, shaking the room they were in. “That’s just the rest of the losers we sail with—nothing more.”

“No, I mean…” She hesitated, not really knowing how to broach the topic she kept so long a secret. “You aren’t freaked out over my eyes.”

“I’m literally one of two known survivors of a mass poisoning event that everyone else thought was a plague, so you’re in luck: we know what it’s like to be stared at by assholes,” Lami shrugged. “Besides, that eye of yours reads Poneglyphs, correct?”

“Supposedly…”

“Then you’re going to love what we’ve got waiting for you.” Lami gestured towards the door with her head as another rumble shook them, though not quite as violently. “How ‘bout it? Prove to your family you can do something without them?”

“…and what makes you think I have that sort of family…?”

“You said it yourself, kid: you’ve got over eighty siblings.” Ikkaku nervously eyed what she hoped was not the ballast tank and laughed awkwardly. “C’mon ladies, we should really get out of here before our cover’s blown!”

Another rumble rocked the ship and the three got going, headed back towards the miniature docking sub and away from the mess. They got out and Ikkaku sent a pulse through the water, letting Shachi and Penguin know it was alright to begin attacking the ship in earnest.

Mission accomplished.

[49-ibr]

6 DAYS REMAINING!

49: VOLUME 01 is out on May 7th 2024!

THREE UNIQUE TALES. ONE FANTASY WORLD. A SECRET TO UNCOVER.

Here's a peek at two of the characters: Kaydah Latche and her little sister!

With a tongue protruding through her violet-painted lips, Kaydah eased the needle-and-thread in and out of the fabric. Her movements were slow, and her mind was focused on nothing but her project. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

And so, when the door to her little shop slammed open, making the jangling bell scream like a gaggle of geese, Kaydah cried out, and the needle-and-thread fell to the well-swept floorboards. Mercifully, they did not impale her toes, though it was a close call. 

Spinning in her seat, she readied to attack, but as she began to shout, the words on her lips died. She blinked, a little startled, and then raised her hand to massage the bridge of her nose. 

“Must you delight in scaring me, little one?” 

“Not a little one,” said her sister, slamming the door behind her and making the whole shop shake. “And I must!” 

Kaydah sighed, shaking her head. “Teenagers…” 

Her sister gasped. “Teenager? I just turned 20!” 

“Oh. Right.” Kaydah gave another sigh, sweeping her eyes over the shop and finding, thankfully, that none of the shop’s shaking had knocked any of the fabrics and garments to the floor. “That keeps slipping from my memory for some reason.” 

“Is the reason that you’re getting old?” 

“The reason is because you stay so young, little one. Would a mature adult scare their older sister in such a manner?” 

Her sister stuck her tongue out, marching across the room and dropping her patchwork sack onto the counter. “A mature adult can do as she pleases. And you can’t stop me.” 

“If I wanted to, I’m sure I could.” 

“What, do you want to fight, Kay?” She held up her hands, balling them into fists, and gestured as if she were about to punch her older sister: slow and exaggerated. 

Kaydah rolled her eyes, reaching out with gentle hands and pushing down the fists. Then, she patted her sister on the cheek. “What did you buy this time, little one?” 

“Oh, I didn’t buy anything.” 

Kaydah froze. 

“It was all so expensive, and I didn’t have nearly enough silver coins. And the ones I did have were so badly blessed that they were hardly worth a thing! Oh, Kay, what else was I to do?” 

“Tell me you didn’t.” 

Her sister planted hands on hips. “This is the last time, Kay, I swear it. I shall shout my promises to the gods.” 

Kaydah turned away from her sister, kneeling and gathering the fabric, needle, and thread. “You’re returning whatever you took,” she called back over her shoulder. “Every bit of it.” 

An affronted screech slipped from her sister’s tongue. “And get myself imprisoned for theft? Kay—” 

Kaydah leapt to her feet, slamming everything onto the counter and making the entire shop tremble as if in fear, as if it worried just as fervently as she always did. “You should be imprisoned!” 

Her sister froze. 

“It was different when we needed it,” Kaydah continued. “That I could forgive. But this? We have all we need to survive!” 

“Survive? But I want to live!” 

“Tough.” 

[taylovelinus]

I think it’s super duper interesting and not at all absolutely horrific how nearly half (40%) of all kids and teens in the US right now are unable to read at a basic level, most of them have no critical thinking or media literacy skills, and are a generation that largely feel lost and without purpose. and they’re living in a society in which it’s nearly impossible to get any kind of job that will pay your bills and keep a roof over your head… unless you have extensive higher education. Meanwhile, the US Navy has lowered the required test score to the lowest level allowed by law while also removing previous education requirements (such as required a high school diploma or GED).

So, let’s put this together, shall we?

1) An economy in which you need a well paying full-time job — i.e. one that pays at LEAST 2-3x the minimum wage — just in order to keep yourself out of poverty, not even to be comfortable. But most jobs at that pay level require you to have at least a bachelor’s degree, although that standard is quickly shifting to become a masters degree, which is difficult to attain and when all is said and done can cost tens of thousands of dollars, if not more. This sets the stage for…

2) A generation of children who cannot read, cannot think critically, are struggling with the most basic educational concepts, and are disillusioned with higher education as a whole. Undereducated in the public school system means they are therefore unable to pursue higher education in any meaningful manner, and a higher education is critical to survival in the US right now. But since they can’t attain this…

3) The military sees this and is lowering its standards accordingly, knowing that most kids will be unable to achieve anything else for themselves, and the military needs to hit their recruitment quotas desperately.

The military needs bodies to ship off, so why not use the entire generation of illiterate children who don’t have the critical thinking skills to see through the military’s marketing and misinformation, nor the educational or financial resources to attain a better future for themselves? Those kids will need a paycheck to survive, and the military will be the most easily accessible and comparatively lucrative option (when compared to the rest of the job market and any other career fields they could’ve potentially been interested in).

and look. I’m not one of those “hurr america bad everything is the US’ fault” morons (let’s not pretend like the military and their recruiters aren’t incredibly predatory in MANY other countries on earth, too). But war is always hell, and the US military is an awful fucking space; International geopolitics aside, the military will chew kids up and spit them out, and then refuse to give them the benefits they both need AND rightfully earned, especially if you become disabled during your time in active duty. Don’t let them trick you into thinking they’ll give you your “free ride to college”, because they’ll give you the runaround about that, too. They will say ANYTHING to get you to enlist so they can hit quota. The military is very much a numbers game.

So anyway. Super normal and cool and not at all completely dystopian and absolutely terrifying. We need to do everything we can to increase literacy rates and give our kids a better chance at not being forced or shunted into the military. RIGHT NOW, kids are entering adulthood and emerging into a society that they find unsustainable and will believe that they have no other choice. Devastating. If you identify as anti-war and pro-peace, one of your biggest advocacy points needs to be literacy — it starts with our kids. Everything begins there.

[vvatchword]

Metamorphosis

When Dr. Lamb published Metamorphosis, it was by her own hand. No publisher in Rapture would touch it.

“Why the hell did you come down here?” asked one, throwing the manuscript at her across his desk.

“It could not have been written had I not,” she said.

A simple cover in white linen. Embossed on the front, a jellyfish with its tentacles outflung, suggesting the shape of sun beaming down, and below, its larval stage, like a shining pearl.

“The chain of industry is characterized as a force outside of us,” wrote Dr. Lamb in her foreword, “but industry cannot and does not exist outside of human beings. Does industry form spontaneously from the earth? Does it emerge from any species other than our own? No. If it cannot exist outside of mankind, then mankind makes up its fabric, psychology, and utility, and it is foolish to ignore the donations of his time and body. Instead of representing the chain as a spiritual force above mankind, we are served better by imagining every link as an individual human life that exerts pressure on all its neighbors—a pressure which can be detected across the whole of the system itself.”

“Read at the Expense of Your Self!” wailed The Rapture Tribune.

“The Pinkos’ Little White Book!” howled The Rapture Daily Post.

“Eleanor Lamb’s Secret Father,” winked Do Tell!, which was, as always, ahead of the times.

Despite the cries of critics, the book was purchased in droves and ordered by bookstores all over Rapture. By the time the major publishers finally descended to beg forgiveness, Dr. Lamb had founded her own publisher and needed them no more. The little white building sat directly beside her own, churning out a hundred copies per day.

Most unconventional were the prices she exacted. For its wholesale price, she asked for $0.10 per book, well under market standards; from people, she asked what they would prefer to pay. “Free” was always an option.

“By demanding space between each other,” Dr. Lamb wrote, “we have only grown mad for human connection. Any promise of social interaction becomes as powerful as a drug; even the educated find themselves incapable of resisting the most questionable charlatans, and for such tawdry payment as ‘physical touch’ and ‘a listening ear.’ This physical need for touch, this psychological need for understanding, are basic requirements of every human body; not only do we ignore them at the peril of our individual emotional and physical wellbeings, we ignore them at the peril of our society’s.”

Andrew Ryan’s Sunday editorial spat acid.

“Beware the charlatan who rouges the words of science,” he wrote. “Prove that adult human beings require selflessness, Dr. Lamb: you will find a cash prize in your mailbox as soon as you do. Citizens: beware the morass of selfless living. Remember that to be selfless is to sell yourself to another’s service. And for what? The pitiful paycheck of social approbation? One must ask oneself: ‘What does Dr. Lamb gain from the sale of my soul?’”

Dr. Lamb’s editorial sprawled below his:

“Ryan is obsessed with the ‘tyrant.’ What is a tyrant? The tyrant is an individual who demands his wellbeing at the expense of all others; he suffers from the terror of victimization and the unpredictability of groups. When the tyrant views a world of plenty, he does not relax with the knowledge he shall be well; he glances aside at his fellow man and sees robbers. He fears he shall be excluded to the same extent that he would exclude them. Incapable of judging the true extent of his need and unwilling to try, he says, ‘All or nothing!’

“To the tyrant, selfishness is primarily viewed as a matter of survival: ‘If I have survived,’ he says, ‘it is because I have defeated others in order to perpetuate myself.’ Note that the tyrant describes his own manner of ascent; he does not explore alternative modes; he does not face down his own fears or heal his own psychological wounds. By fabricating a toxic environment where only he may prosper, he subjects a captive audience to his personal poison.”

In the first few weeks after the book was published, people could be seen wearing white hatbands or white ribbons on their arms—first by the handful; then the dozens; then the hundreds.

“All of us have dealt with the destructive nature of selflessness or we would not be here. Well do we understand the sacrifices demanded for the sakes of society, God, government, kings—always others, never ourselves. The erasure of our boundaries; strangers asking us to give and give and give even when we have nothing left; the theft of our time and our physical wellness and our labor with no acknowledgment or return. But if we can freely admit the failures of selflessness, we would be remiss if we did not examine those in selfishness. The true question is not which mode of thought is better; the question is, ‘In what context is it best utilized?’”

True Believers gathered on the street corners and watched her building, smoking cheap cigarettes.

“The astute reader will note that these beliefs are not limited to tyrants. Central to the philosophy is fear of attack and a citizenry at constant war with itself. But why should the philosophy fear attack in a modern society made up only of its constituents? Have we not invited only the best of mankind? Why, then, is it wrapped up in the terms of war? Who is fighting whom, and why? Why must all human interactions be defined by the brutality of battle? Why the expectation of destruction instead of that of diplomacy, friendship, communion, education, or art?

“And think of the outcome: for it is one thing to destroy the parasite—but here we destroy paragons, those who believe everything we hold dear, who possess incredible abilities and knowledge that might uplift us all—who, left to their own devices on the surface, might have brought that Sodom to some greater understanding.”

The buildings beside Lamb’s went up in white, one by one by one.

“How many geniuses toil here in obscurity? Have we taken them from the surface only to destroy them? What use is a destroyed glory? Who knows how many beautiful things we have lured down here to die? What use is the philosophy if it only benefits a few, if it upholds the monochrome monolith over the multi-faceted glories of ten thousand teeming brains? What happens when an environment has been tooled to benefit the few over the many?”

A pamphlet began passing around the Drop, ripped from the book and printed rogue by some starry-eyed stranger:

“The philosophy’s intent is to glorify the best in humankind. But what is the reality? It is this: the powerful destroys the powerless. What is the powerful? He who retains the most material goods, social currency, or physical strength—none of which depend on the quality of the idea, but the transmission of it.

“If the idea could come alone, by itself, and be instantly understood, this would be one thing; but all ideas come couched in human beings. Will a Negro scientist with poor diction and no funds fare better than a white Adonis with a charismatic disposition and a tycoon father? In my position, I have met many of the former and none of the latter.

“Why do we expect that the most excellent idea comes couched in power? Perhaps it is to justify the powerful class. Perhaps it is to justify the philosophy’s existence, to soothe our wounded consciousnesses, a survivor’s bias—to reassure ourselves that we have overcome because we have simply tried harder, cared more, possessed fewer vices. But how often does progress come as the dissenting voice, the voice of the small, the evidence we would prefer not to notice and can afford not to?

“In short, the powerless is not destroyed because he is incapable—far from it! No, the best idea might just as soon fall to a glib speaker who only excels in matters of speechcraft, to the more handsome and charming, or he who knows the boardmembers he begs for aid, or to he who crouches upon masses of pre-existing capital. The best idea cannot win until the philosophy acknowledges the natural formation of groups among human beings and deals accordingly.

“The astute reader might notice this: the powerful utilize the group and its mechanisms even as it is derided; the group is formed even as its influence is ignored.

“Why does the philosophy ignore the impact of the group?

“What is the philosophy but a philosophy of tyrants?”

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[ginza-division]

Masa's Thoughts on Chiyoda Division

Fusao Ise

"Ah, Mr. Ise. A bright, intellectual man. I believe some of our equipment here in the church, our loudspeakers and such, were all manufactured by his company, Wonder⇓anD Sound Systems. Brilliant company, and brilliant equipment, if I do say so myself. You are truly an amazing man, Mr. Ise. Truly, truly, amazing, indeed." Masa says all this with a smile on his face. He sits down at a desk, placing his hands in front of him, still smiling. He then sighs, almost with a regretful tone.

"It's because of your intellect and enthusiasm that I respect you so much. ...And it's because of that, that I simply cannot understand why, for the life of me, you'd choose to work against me instead of with me to create a new and more perfect world. You insult my vision, my work, my church, call me out of my name, and try to prevent me from bringing more followers into the fold. If those were the only issues, I could have easily forgiven you. Because believe it or not, Mr. Ise, all of those things I am quite used to. I am quite used to dealing with the ignorant and those who don't fully understand my methods. And as I stated, if those were your only sins, I could have easily let them fall to the wayside."

"...But." Masa's voice takes a sudden change as a frown appears on his face. "The one thing I cannot forgive you is your heinous acts against my good friend, Eiji Noguchi. Eiji-san and I... we have a mutual relationship. And though he and I don't always agree, we are friends, as well as partners. And if you aren't aware of this, Mr. Ise, it's that I look out for my friends. Whatever problems or troubles they are going through, I do my best to help solve them. So to hear that you have been giving him no end of trouble... it upsets me. It upset me... very, very much."

"I don't know what your issues with Mr. Noguchi are, Mr. Ise. And to be perfectly honest, I do not care. But I strongly advise that you take whatever issues or problems you have him and get over them. If not, I won't be responsible if anything... untoward happens to happen to your company. Do give that some thought."

Raiden Otoha

"Raiden, my old friend!" Masa gives a small grin at the self-proclaimed scientist. "A shame you ran off the way you did. Juu was so upset, as was I. You were probably one of the few people who managed to get away from her, and she didn't like that. Not one bit. So... she, unfortunately, took out her anger and frustration on your dear older brother. My apologies for that. I assure you, his injuries weren't as bad as they looked! ...Well, okay, they weren't as bad as they seemed. ...Actually, you know what? Forget I said any of that. It's a sin to lie after all. Plus, I feel I'm doing Juu and my followers a disservice by saying that. I'll just say this, instead: what happened to him wasn't meant to happen, but it did. And if you need someone to blame for that, then I suggest you look in a mirror."

"I understand you may feel anger, or get a sense that what happened to your kin was wrong. But I've always found that one should always strive to look on the positive side of things. For all that your brother went through, he proved one thing: he was far stronger than you could ever hope to be. The fact he survived what happened to him proves it. ...But do not worry, my child. For I promise you, at the D.R.B., I shall extend to you the exact same punishment. And when it is over, I shall leave your fate to Ippei. He's been wanting to get his hands on you for the longest now."

Chiyuri Seiguni

"A curious child, if I must say so. Though he looks human, he lacks that, shall we say, spark that makes him as such. Of course, I mean that in as a positive manner as I can. After all, far be it for me to judge a child. I'd have to like to have made him one of my followers, but it seems my old friend, Raiden, persuaded him not to. Such a shame. I wanted to find out more about him, not only to learn of his past, but also because Oki, himself, was interested in him, which was a shock. Apparently, Oki thinks that he knows this boy from somewhere, but cannot recall where. Perhaps he knows something about the two years that Oki has been gone. If that is true, then I certainly need to make contact with him as soon as possible, regardless of what Raiden says or thinks."

狂音INC.

"Quite a fascinating team you've come up with, Raiden. A shame you couldn't see past your own ego or your own foolishness. If you had, we could have done amazing things together, along with your brother. But, if I must dirty my hands to get you to open your eyes and teach you a lesson, then so be it. I shall see you at the D.R.B., old friend. I'm certain our match will be one to remember. I'm going to provide you and your team with my very best scriptures."

[lost-technology]

A thought on my mind: I apologise for not hustling butt on getting any new chapters of Survivor's Guilt out for those of you who are reading it in any kind of timely manner. I never had an update-schedule for it, anyway. It was always a pantsted, meandering "working with ideas as they come" fic - although, at this point, I have rough plans in mind for how it's going to go, up until the end. (I want to end it coinciding with the end of Trigun Stampede and upon release of Stargaze, make an entirely new sequel fic if I want to continue the storyline). I've had some hiccups between chapters. When I started it way back, I wrote out one chapter to get the basic idea out - and then I got The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and was basically just playing that for 2 1/2 months straight (well, not straight, I ate and slept, but you know). Considering that I was grieving a very dear loved one at the time, I really threw myself into that game as a distraction from life because nothing is as good a distraction for me as video games. And then I got back onto the fic and was really chugging along for a while - until I got a much-sought after and needed part-time job. My job took some time from me. It's okay - I've actually worked out storylines for the fic in my head while working! Nowadays, well, I'm an American and our very important Presidential (and general 4 year election for Senators and Representatives) is coming up. I think that even some of you who AREN'T American are paying attention to it because "when America sneezes, the world catches a cold." It's an incredibly important / world shaking one, too, as we have the potential to either have the first Madame President in our entire history or to re-elect an increasingly unhinged, publicly demented fascist who has loyalists in place to actually create a fascist government for him at his behest. I have, so far, kept politics off this blog (my rantspace for it is my main blog), but I am deeply afraid. The U.S. has a very wonky system for selecting a President whereby they don't have to win the majority vote of the actual people, but a series of representative slates of the states and that's how the jerkface that's running for a non-consecutive second term got in in the first place. He Who Shall Not Be Named was BAD years ago (arguably responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths due to his adminstration's purposeful mismanagement of the Covid pandemic). He's said and done things that SHOULD have gotten him shitcanned for EVER having a place in politics, but...somehow... he's around and has people (such as our Supreme Court) bending over backwards for him and I honestly wonder if he promised his firstborn son as a sacrifice to the Devil or something. Anyway, we're on the cusp of a decision that can go really right or go really wrong - and I have a lot of fears because... well... for all our supposed progress, we remain a deeply racist and sexist country and there are just some elements that have roughly half of us ready to chuck good ol' Democracy away for a potential dictatorship. And I happen to live in THE most coveted "swing state" - Where I live is said to basically decide the Presidency. (And there are people here who are already trying to pull voter-suppression shenanigans). And the advertisements and the signs and... I am losing my mind. (I've EATEN at the McDonald's that He Who Shall Not Be Named cosplayed at. I'm that close to the action).* - *in the past, not on the day, I'm not a supporter. So... too scared, too stressed to write. That's where I am right now. And who knows? The fic may wind up abandoned because I'll wind up being bare-bones survival, looking to flee my country or just jumping off a bridge or something on an impulse. Or you know, getting imprisoned for being in the wrong political party. Or shot for protesting. Anything can happen here.

[fukuokanodivision]

Death By Microphone — Volume 1 [Authors Note] ”Dearest reader, this novel shall reveal shocking truths about how the Hypnosis Microphone has now changed our universe forever…” “Some have been entangled in their unjust experiments, others possibly still allied with their lousy organization. Fear not, I as one of their former humanoids have the power to save your own life if you need it…” “Read on if you’d like, I will not force you to dive into my experience. If you’re interested? Let myself take you on a journey to ensure your anticipated and brighter future ahead of you…” —————————————————————————————————————— 1 — Locked Up — Chuohku Ward, Cell 510 — [Criminals, Yuno always despised them. Some are intelligent and can get away with anything and everything, while others aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed…It was funny, why was he locked up despite not being any sort of criminal mastermind?] [To put it bluntly — He was one of their experiments…] [He could still remember a few brief moments; Traffic Light performing in downtown Fukuoka, filing a witness to remove his father from prison and passing out with the aftertaste of alcohol seeping from his mouth.] [Now here he was, stuck in a minature boxed cell encased by neon hot pink walls that only made his fists clench just by glancing at them. He wondered how his father kept himself busy, inside a small room, not getting enough sleep or barely any energy to even stay awake.] [How could one survive in a damned place like this!?] [Brushing off his suit in frustration, the sound of footsteps — particularly high heels — rapidly inched toward his cell door. With a keycard swipe on the door, it was opened automatically. Upon inspection, a woman in a recognizable hot pink uniform was waiting expectantly, an expression of authority planted on her face.] [A Chuohku officer…] Officer: The Prime Minister has requested your immediate attention, your teammates are also aware of the situation. If you’ll please follow me… [Yuno nodded in a respectful manner, proceeding to follow her down the endless hallway. Though it didn’t sound like a truly “bad” idea, he was still suspicious about the Prime Ministers sudden request for the 3 of them considering having been in Chuohku for atleast 24 hours.] —————— — Chuohku Ward, Prime Minister Office — [As soon as Yuno entered, Eko and Mai had squeezed him tight internally and externally. Returning the favour, he kneeled down to oversee their current conditions, being the protective person he was.] [Eko’s charred hair was slightly disheveled, included with a few scars across pieces of his body, most notably his wrists and neck.] [Meanwhile, Mai’s hair was still cut short — due to avoiding sexual contact during Traffic Lights formation — with cross dressing as a male. A few bruises were present on their face as well…] [Before having the chance to say something, a recognizable purple haired figure was already seated and observing them quietly.] Otome: Welcome, Traffic Light. I understand you may be feeling disoriented with your arrival in Chuohku. So, shall we get started? 2 — Project “Stoplight” [As all of them seated themselves, the atmosphere felt somewhat light. It was strange, being right in front of the person who had taken down the former government with just a single microphone and tons of woman-power.] Otome: You are possibly wondering what brought all 3 of you here, which I can provide an explanation… [Hefting a large silver case onto the desk, her delicate fingers opened it, revealing 3 grey microphones apart of its contents.] Eko: Microphones? Otome: Yes, Seishin. These are the earliest prototypes we in Chuohku have collected as of late…The Hypnosis Microphone. [Eko, Mai and Yuno were all wide eyed.] Otome: The Hypnosis Microphone allows anyone through rapping to control a persons nervous system, possibly to even alter their own state of mind. Mai: Why would you present them to us…? Otome: What if I told you that you could change the whole world just with your mic? [To be continued…]

[the-firebird69]

FBI raids home owned by elected official (msn.com)

and do a deer a female deer and ray a poket full o sun and this is trump and justin ray and he hs a poket full of our son..yup as does rey...and though it bring her back to...do. and it means wht it says yes. trump is dangerous to our son. even though these two like him it wont stop him it reuqird brute forcce. and tons of it. and to keep it up. we shall surteptistionsly bja says he will try.

The song also means we are stuck here and we are stuck with this cycle we are stuck with ourselves doing things that aren't that great and we have to honor the fact that we're stuck with it and try not to do things like that but to realize that we're actually stuck. And she's singing that the hills are alive with the sound of music and it means that people are talking and code is going all over the place. There are a couple more things to bring up we only mentioned There are a couple more things to bring up we only mentioned one

- Besides all the deaths in Charlotte County there's a whole bunch in Florida from the same thing and the radiation is more intense in Miami there's been a ton of death about 5% since a week and a half ago. And those who are exposed and we suspect 30% of the population is overexposed as they let it sit in there if they do they will only have weeks to live if that and then start by having diarrhea and it does not stop and it's going to continue until they decide to stop it and take anti radiation medicine and undergo the treatment it's a huge day today because people are starting to get it a little in a terribly stupid already and it causes people to be senile today was a disgusting show by these people they are ridiculous and they are holding our son hostage and he wants the word used and he wants those protocols activated and in the best manner we can now we understand what you're saying if you can't extract me maybe you can extract them and that's actually funny people are going to try and think about that that way.

-- We have three people here who need to leave but really they always say it's damned annoying. They always have to leave. There are a couple other things to learn about this area that you don't know about and you're not surviving there are some creatures around and a lot of you don't believe it and it's damned annoying. Some people walk around with suits and not many and nobody is really doing the job thusly we have to it is time for people to confess that they don't know what the hell they're talking about. Now we need them outta here and right now. And just places to go and they're not bad. These creatures are after you if you're hearing your nuisance for whatever reason they will find you and they will kill you.

-- There's a huge number of people seeking people here for money and it's well known in Florida that you come here to retire and give up your fortune and it's happened to a lot of people. And is not a good time. Do you want the fortunes by dying and people are really **** and that's the way it is and people robbed them blind and all this other stuff and people are doing it down here and we need to go after them and people do go after those people and use it as an excuse there's a lot of that and it's gonna be a lot more shortly and it's an excuse based system and it's one of the biggest reasons why you're all making noises and you don't know about Florida so keep not knowing. We know about Florida.

-- We're going to have to try and find out what your main malfunction is and it's not true we're listening part of it here the other part is you have a plan to try and hit Earth with nuclear weapons and it's most of you here including stem and Mac Daddy and it is going on right now that you're being pursued by others on under special warrant and there's a lot of regular people who fight to be completely stupid about the math. There's a couple other things in charlotte County that you should be aware of that we don't think you know anything about.

-- The insects and snakes rodents and rot will kill you if you pass out outside or inside after a time the insects will find you mostly ants and they would devour you entirely several times each the neighbors here have been found dead with bugs in them at one point dave had 50 bugs inside his cheek because he was rotting to death there's more to it he's a slob people are setting him up but yeah that happens in Florida.

-- There's too many of you in northern of housing and it's not adequate it's not updated it doesn't necessarily receive steady power or enough power for the air conditioner and nobody bothered to fix it. They're not letting any contracts for that work the governor is is crooked as hell and doesn't do any work it needs to be fired this place is a shambles and there's an illegal action going on out there I've been for all intensive purposes

----=== This is definitely not the place for you to do your stupid talk that's the conclusion and there's more things but boy that should be enough.

Thor Freya

Olympus