#we won't know what that means until we know what the tree does/is! although it's obviously significant to the plot

[danieyells]

So something I wanna point out. . .Towa gets upset at the thought that you can't see the tree.

He questions whether or not you can see the tree at all, and says he knew you were special when you show that you can. But look at the size of it? There's no way you wouldn't be able to see the tree, right?

The player couldn't even see the tree before this--or, rather, they didn't seem to notice the absolutely mcmassive tree on the hill before. (Of course it's possible it was in Jabberwock before and the island temporarily moved it.)

The tree "isn't there". Not to most people. That's why you're 'special' for being able to see it. When Haru comments on that Towa was on the hill he NEVER MENTIONS THE GIANT TREE.

Surely if Haru were aware of the big dying tree, he would have mentioned that Towa was under the tree. The tree is far more significant than the hill i mean look at it. It takes up the majority of this hill.

To everyone else that's just a hill. Only Towa(and [now?] the player) can see the tree and thus no one else recognizes its significance.

I'm sure there are other people who're "special"(able to see the tree) but Towa and the pc are the only ones so far that we're aware of, if they're not the only ones all together. I mean Ed simply by virtue of being Ed must be able to see it, and maybe Kaito who's noted as having really good eyesight too?

Not sure what that means exactly. . .for now. Maybe it's because they're becoming an anomaly, or maybe it's because of the ring, or maybe it's because of their fate as champion. Or maybe it's just for the plot. But I figured it was of note.

[ironwoman359]

i saw your tag about how in 500 years we WON'T be calling britney spears' "toxic" classical music, and i am willing and able to hear this rant if you so wish to expand upon it :3c

You know what, it's been over six months, so sure, why not, let's pick today to have this rant/lesson!

To establish my credentials for those unfamiliar Hi my name's Taylor I was a music teacher up until last year when the crushing realities of the American Education SystemTM led me to quit classroom work and become a library clerk instead. But said music teaching means that I have 4+ years of professional classical training in performance and education, and while I'm by no means a historian, I know my way around the history of (european) music.

So, now that you know that I'm not just some rando, but a musical rando, let me tell you why we won't be calling Britney Spears or [insert modern musician(s) that'd be especially humorous to today's audience to call classical] "classical music."

The simple answer is that "Old music =/= Classical music," which is usually the joke being made when you see this joke in the first place.

As funny as this joke can be when executed well (this is one of my favorite versions of said joke, especially since this is a future world where there's very little accurate surviving info about the culture from the 21st century), there is VERY little likely of this actually being how music from today is referred to in the future, because, again, music being OLD does not automatically make music CLASSICAL.

If you'd indulge me a moment, have a look at these three pieces from the early 1900s, which is now over 100 years ago. That's pretty old! You don't have to listen to the whole of all of them if you don't want to, but give each around 30 seconds or so of listening.

All three pieces are over 100 years old, but would you call "In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree" classical? Or "The Entertainer?" Most likely not. You'd probably call these songs "old timey" and you may even be savvy enough to call "The Entertainer" by it's actual genre name, ragtime. But if either of these songs came on the radio, you wouldn't really call them classical, would you? They're just old.

Whereas Mahler's Symphony No. 5, now that sounds like classical music to you, doesn't it? It's got trumpets, violins, a conductor, it's being played by a philharmonic! That's a classical musicy word!

The short answer of why we in the real, nonfictional world won't be calling Britney Spears's "Toxic" classical music in 100 years is it simply doesn't sound like classical music.

.....and the long answer is that Mahler's Symphony No. 5 isn't actually classical either.

See, music, just like everything in culture from dress to art to architecture changed with the times, and therefore 'classical music' is technically (although not colloquially) only one of about four to five musical periods/styles you're likely to hear on one of those "classical music tunes to study to" playlists.

Our dear friend Mahler up there was not a classical composer, he was a composer of the late romantic era.

So now, because I have you hostage in my post (just kidding please don't scroll away I had a lot of fun writing this but it took me nearly 3 hours) I'm going to show you the difference between Classical music and the other musical eras.

These are the movements we'll be dealing with, along with the general dates that define them (remembering of course that history is complicated and the Baroque Period didn't magically begin on January 1st, 1600, or end the moment Bach died) :

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

You'll notice that as time goes on, the periods themselves grow shorter, and there starts to become some overlap in the late 19th to early 20th century. The world was moving faster, changing faster, and music and art began changing faster as well. Around the beginning of the 20th century music historians quit assigning One Major style to an entire era of history and just started studying those movements themselves, especially since around the 20th century we were getting much more experimentation and unique ideas being explored in the mainstream.

Even the end of the classical to the beginning of the romantic period can get kind of fuzzy, with Beethoven, arguably one of the most famous classical (and yes he was actually classical) composers in history toeing the line between classical and romantic in his later years. The final movement of his 9th symphony, known as Ode to Joy, far more resembles a romantic work than a classical one.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

To oversimplify somewhat, here are the main characteristics of said movements:

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

Music was very technical and heavily ornamented. This coincided with a very "fancy" style of dress and decoration (the rococo style became popular towards the latter half of this period). The orchestras were far smaller than we are used to seeing in concert halls today, and many instruments we consider essential would not have been present, such as the french horn, a substantial percussion section, or even the piano*. Notable composers include Vivaldi (of the Four Seasons fame), Handel (of the Messiah fame) and Bach:

*the piano as we know it today, initially called the pianoforte due to its ability to play both softly (piano) and loudly (forte) in contrast to the harpsichord, which could only play at one dynamic level, was actually invented around 1700, but didn't initially gain popularity until much later. This Bach Concerto would have traditionally been played on a harpsichord rather than a piano, but the piano really does have such a far greater expressive ability that unless a group is going for Historical Accuracy, you'll usually see a piano used in performances of baroque work today.

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

In the classical period, music became more "ordered," not just metaphorically but literally. The music was carefully structured, phrases balanced evenly in a sort of call and response manner. Think of twinkle twinkle little star's extremely balanced phrasing, itself a tune that Mozart took and applied 12 classical variations to, cementing it in popularity. And speaking of twinkle twinkle, memorable melody became more important to the composition than ornamentation, and many of our most universally known melodies in the west come from this period. The orchestra also grew bigger, adding more players of all kinds as now we didn't have to worry about overpowering the single-volume harpsichord, and additional instruments like more brass and woodwinds were added. Notable composers include Haydn (of The Surprise Symphony fame) Beethoven (of, well, Fame), and Mozart:

Pay attention to the size of the orchestra here, then go back to the Bach concerto. Notice how in that very typical Baroque setting, the orchestra sits at maybe 20 people, and that here in a Classical setting, there's nearly two times that!

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

In the romantic period, it was all about BIG FEELINGS, MAN. It was about the DRAMA. Orchestras got even bigger than before, the music focused less on balance and became more dramatic, and there was a big focus on emotions, individualism, and nationalism. Discerning listeners will notice a lot of similarities between romantic symphonies and modern film scores; John Williams in particular is very clearly influenced by this era, any time I'd play the famous Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner in a class, the kids would remark that it sounds like it should be in Star Wars. A lot of romantic composers were German, including Beethoven, if you want to call his later works romantic (which I and many others argue you can, again, compare Ode to Joy to one of his earlier works and you can hear and see the difference), but you also have the Hungarian Liszt (of the Hungarian Rhapsodies fame), the Russian Tchaikovsky (of the Nutcracker and 1812 Overture fame), and the Czech Dvořák:

See how this orchestra is even bigger still? Modern orchestras tend to vary in size depending on what pieces they are playing, but the standard is much closer to this large, romantic size, and it's far less typical to see a small, intimate Baroque setting unless specifically attending a Baroque focused concert. Also I know I embedded Dvořák because Symphony From a New World slaps but please also listen to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 it's one of my all time favorite pieces and NOT just because of the Tom and Jerry cartoon, alright? Alright.

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

A bit after it began but definitely still during the romantic period, a counter movement began in France that turned away from the emotional excess of romanticism and focused less on standard chord progression and explored more unconventional scales. This music was less worried about how it 'should' sound and was more concerned with evoking a certain emotion or image, giving you an "impression" of an idea. Debussy is by far the most well known name in this movement, even though he personally hated the term 'impressionism,' lol.

Notice the way the periods build on each other naturally, literally, physically builds on the orchestras that came before, evolving in style and structure until you get to the late 19th and early 20th century when things were built up so big that a response to that excess started to develop, first in the impressionist movement, and then into 20th century music in general, which got much more experimental and, as we say, "weird." (frickin 12 tone scales, man)* *i do not actually dislike the sound of 12 tone, it's interesting and unique, but it is HELL to analyze in music theory, which is unfortunately when a lot of us classical musicians are first introduced to it, therefore tarnishing our relationship to the genre as we cannot separate it from our own undergrad anguish

Even if you're not a super active listener and you have a harder time discerning the difference between, say, late baroque and early classical, you cannot deny that the first piece I've linked by Bach and the last piece I've linked by Debussy sound completely different. They're both orchestral pieces (I intentionally chose all orchestral pieces as my examples here, getting into solo works, opera, and chamber ensembles would take too long), but other than that, they couldn't be more different.

Wait, so what are we talking about again?

Classical Music is first a period of music, a specific artistic movement with music typically written in Europe between 1750 and 1820 with a specific sound that is distinct from these other styles I've outlined here.

And Classical Music is second a genre. Because while academically and historically Baroque music is not classical, and Romantic music is not classical...colloquially it is. They sound similar enough that it makes sense to put them on the same playlists, the same radio stations, the same 'beats to study to' youtube compilation videos. While individuals may have favorites and preferences, it's not far fetched to say that if you like listening to one of these styles, you'll at least like one of the others.

But whether you're being broad and referring to our modern idea of the classical genre, or you're being pedantic like me and referring to a specific period of musical history (or modern compositions emulating that style, because yeah, modern compositions of all of theses styles do exist), I think we can all agree that, as much as it slaps, "Toxic" by Britney Spears is not classical music, and 500 years is unlikely to change our perspective of that.

A Traditional Ballad though?

Yeah, I can see us calling it that in 5 billion years.

(the full version of this scene is age restricted for some reason, but you can watch it here)

Anyway, thanks for reading y'all, have a good one!

[theficpusher]

These High Walls (Fly With Me) by FallingLikeThis | G | 3907 Harry is a kidnapped young man trapped in a tower, all his beautiful hair cut off because of the last time he tried to escape. He’s stopped wishing to be on the ground because he knows it’s impossible. Now, his head is in the clouds. If you’re going to want something impossible, why not wish for the stars instead, right? And somewhere far away on a distant star, a fairy hears his wish. A Rapunzel/Peter Pan au.

If Only We Wish Hard Enough by lululawrence | nr | 5353 Before Harry let Louis know he was there, he gave himself a moment to just admire him. Truly take him in. Today, Louis was wearing one of his soft, simple green dresses that in many ways resembled the ones fairies often wore. Harry loved when Louis wore dresses. They showed off Louis’ waist and thighs more than any of his other outfits, and Harry loved that about them. “You know I can hear your wings fluttering so you aren’t fooling anyone,” Louis said before turning and looking over his shoulder. Or the five times fic where Louis is Peter Pan, Harry is his best friend Tinkerbelle, and it takes them awhile but they figure things out.

A Lost Hope, Found | nr | 9231 When Harry was 17 he realised that maybe fairy tales aren't always make believe. He came to this conclusion when abruptly woke in the middle of the night to find a boy standing on his window ledge, offering his hand. His mum had always told him to never talk to strangers let alone run away with one, but there was just something about the way the boy was hovering off the ground, his blue eyes dazzling that made Harry's heart flutter and his hand stretch out until he was pulled out of the window and too was flying. featuring Louis not in tights, Niall as a fairy that radiates happiness and Liam and Zayn as lost boys who really need to learn that brotherhood does not mean kissing each other every two minutes.

Flying Without Drowning by starscries | T | 12690 Louis has lost a lot of his Lost Boys, he and Zayn are the only one remaining. A new mermaid has showed up in Neverland and Louis is kind of curious about him, even though he won't admit it.

everything you do is magic [series] by jamesnaill | G | 12877 Harry has seen Niall do pretty much everything. He’s seen him heal trees, mend broken hearts and teary faces of the children who don’t get what they wanted for Christmas. He’s seen him give all kind of pretty colors to flowers and butterflies. He’s seen him dumping an entire bag of fairy dust on top of a tiny bird who was learning how to fly. Just as he’s seen him dumping the same amount of fairy dust on Louis’ head when he finds him snooping and messing around at night, then blowing as hard as he can to make him fly far far away. It’s all been pretty funny. Most times beautiful, even if at times confusing. Always mesmerizing and amazing. He’s never seen him quite like this. - Or, a Peter Pan AU where Harry is Peter Pan and Niall is Tinkerbell, whose health keeps getting worse as people say they don't believe in fairies.

An Awfully Big Adventure by JayseHasNoGrace | M | 27075 The old Captain Hook is tired. Harry comes along, near death, having become horribly lost and been abandoned by his crew. Hook helps him, but informs him that it is now his job to become the next Captain Hook. Oh yes — and he almost forgets to mention the persistent boy who is the ringleader of the Lost Boys. He explains the 'rules': that Harry (as the new Captain Hook) has to continue the everlasting feud with Peter Pan. Although there have been a long line of similar looking Hooks, Harry apparently doesn't look quite similar enough, and Pan notices. However, Peter Pan's identity might not be quite so straightforward either.

The Pirate and The Piper by jacaranda_bloom | E | 38396 Banished from Neverland by Captain Hook and the evil Siren Minerva, Louis is forced to live in the Other World. He makes a life for himself, resigned to the fact he’s never going to see his beloved home and Lost Boys again. Five years later he’s kidnapped and returned to Neverland, only to discover a far worse fate awaits him. But with an unlikely ally by his side, can he overcome those who seek his demise and restore freedom to his homeland? Or the one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

into that goodnight by devilinmybrain | E | 62801 Once upon a time, there was a boy. But not just any sort of boy. This was a clever boy, the cleverest of them all.

[strangelyunfinshed]

King!Steve | Lovers to Enemies

An innocent crush leads to Steve teaching you the rules of the game. Turns out you're an even better player.

TW: FemReader, Angst, Revenge, Smut, Hate Sex, Jealousy, Cheating, 18+

It began with a kiss. 

A party on a cool fall night. Red and gold leaves still clung to their branches, painting the woods around skull rock a new color. Your friends were getting tanked on cases of cheap beer bought by Dean Finley's older brother after a blow job from Chrissy under the bleachers.

Hawkins golden boy Steve Harrington stood on the other side of the fire, untouchable, above it all. Like a stalker, you hadn't been able to keep your eyes off him all night even though he's never spared you more than a glance. A moth to a flame, you watched him through the tiny glowing embers rising in the smoke, with a growing ache radiating from your gut. A crush – that's what your friends told you. It can't be real love if it's not returned, but you know that's not true. It would be so much easier if it were. It would mean you could stop. 

He threw his cigarette into the fire and wandered away from his friends into the dark of the woods, and because you couldn't stop, you followed him. But he was already gone, lost among the tall trees, leaving you alone with your pain. A twig snaps behind you, and Steve is there, leaning against a tree.

"Following me?" he stepped toward you until you looked up at him.

"Um…no," you sputtered, panicking, "I was just…um…what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," his hand landed on your hip, drawing you closer. 

"Me?" you questioned as your body automatically complied, "How did you know I'd come out here?"

"I hoped," his lopsided smile had your stomach doing somersaults as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

"I didn't even know you–" 

His pillow-soft lips covered yours, slowly teasing your mouth until you opened for him and his tongue found yours. All the pain turned to rapture, your love burst into gold flakes that glistened as they floated through your veins. 

He kissed you and kissed you until you were drunk on him, eyes still closed when he pulled away. 

"We should get back," his hand smoothed along your jaw, "You go first, and I'll be there soon."

"Okay," you agreed, shaking your head like you understood, although you didn't.

Sipping from the warm can, you let the malt and metallic tang wash away his kisses as you watched from the other side of the fire when he joins his friends, not offering you a glance. Seeing his kiss-bitten lips kept you from wondering if you had imagined the whole thing.

A few weeks without acknowledgment and he was pulling you into the tiny half-bath on the first floor of Tiffany Edward's house. His mouth was sweetened by beer and tobacco while his hands roamed over your clothes. Your body heated, and that gold glittered - though slightly tarnished from neglect. Sighing into his mouth, you pushed those thoughts away. He wanted you. That was all that mattered. 

That turned into this - in the backseat of his car, thick fingers finding you sticky wet. 

"Has anyone touched you before?" 

"There has only been you," you admit without regard for your heart. 

He smiles against your lips, "Can I make you feel good?"

With your permission, you're stretched around him. Pants and gasps steaming the windows until he does just that. Still floating and trembling, his hand moves yours until you're touching him and watching him get lost in the feeling. 

When he told you his parents were gone for the weekend, you knew what you were saying yes to. You'd been expecting the sting. 

"It won't hurt next time," he soothed.

The promise of next time made any pain fade as he moved inside you, and you gave him everything. 

"Bend over and hold on to the hood."

He found you after the game, asking you to stay. He kept you waiting in the parking lot until everyone else had gone. His BMW sat parked in the shadows. His hair was damp from the shower, and his body still high from his win. His hands moved under your skirt, flipping it up, moving aside your panties. Rubbing your clit until you were embarrassingly wet. He pushed inside while you clawed at the hood. And he was right. It didn't hurt. He moved hard and fast. Colors exploded behind your eyes.

"Shit, that was good," he kissed you after, "I made you cum, right?"

He was holding Nancy's hand, walking her to class, when you first felt it. 

Those tarnished gold flakes had turned to rust, collecting in your heart, corroding it until it seized. She was perfect, smart, and pretty. He put his arm around her shoulder, and you watched his eyes light up with pride. She's his girl. He walked past you without a glance. Your blood is a bitter poison, formaldehyde keeping you preserved despite being dead inside. 

Everyone gets it wrong. Hate is just as strong as love. 

It ends with a kiss. 

A party at Carol's, one you know that Miss Priss won't attend. Steve arrives with the rest of the basketball players. His eyes land on you, and he looks away. No matter. Chance Bailey is his teammate, his rival, younger with adorable floppy hair. They even play the same position. It doesn't take much, a smile while you "accidentally" rub up against him, and he is yours – like you used to be his. It makes you just as bad as Steve. That should give you pause, but it doesn't. Steve taught you the truth. It's all just a game, and not everyone can win.

Pulling Chance over to the couch, you sit on his lap and hang on his every word. Steve's jaw is clenched when he takes the chair beside the couch – you've got his attention.  

"I think next year we'll make it to the championship," Chance tells you with his hand high on your thigh. 

"I bet you're real good at gettin it in," you run your hand through his wavy locks, and his eyes widen. 

"Give it a fucking rest, Bailey," Steve stands up, his hands open and closing into fists, "We could have won this year if you tried as hard to get the ball as you are trying to get this girl's ass." 

"Is that right, Harrington," Chance pushes you off his lap and mirrors Steve's posture, "because I was thinking we could have won if Coach had kept you on the bench with the rest of the losers."

Without another word, Steve's fist connects with Chance's nose. There's an audible crunch of bone and a burst of red. The other players are getting in between them to make sure things end there. 

"This is who you want now?" Steve yells at you, pointing his hand toward the boy bleeding onto the carpet, "or are you making your way through the whole team?"

Now it’s your turn to strike. With a red handprint on his face and his arm wrapped around your bicep, he drags you into Carol's little brother's room, and you get exactly what you want. 

His hungry mouth is on you, tearing at your lips as his hand fumbles behind him, twisting the lock on the doorknob. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he yanks your head back with a hand full of your hair, "you wanted me to fuck you."

"It didn't have to be you," you say, loosening his belt, "anyone would do."

He pushes you further into the room against a low chest of drawers with a mirror attached. Plastic dinosaurs and transformers fall over the side and onto the floor. The stiff corduroy of your skirt burns your skin when it's yanked up around your hips, and you're lifted to the edge of the bureau.

"Is that right? You think you're going to give away what's mine?" He latches on to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark while peeling your panties down your legs until they slide off the rest of the way, fluttering to the floor. 

"Yours?" you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat, "I think you're confused."

"There's no confusion," he wrenches your legs open wide, "this cunt is mine to play with when I want," he looks down at your center, a warm blob of spit falling from his mouth, running down into your folds. 

"Sorry, Harrington," you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers start to work you, "You broke this toy, and now it's somebody else's turn."

"You think someone else is going to fuck you as good as me?" his tone is arrogant, and he holds your gaze, trying to prove his point with his thumb circling your clit.

Only one of you can win this game, and it's a little pathetic he hasn't figured out he's already lost. Your hands on his chest push him away, "You think I need your fingers to cum?" your fingers glide through your wetness before taking his place, "I can play all by myself," you say each word slowly before letting out a moan. 

"Christ," he breathes, eyes darkening with lust and fury. His knees hit the floor, and his hands push into the skin of your inner thighs, holding you open so he can bury his face into your core.

He licks you and licks you until you're cumming on his tongue, eyes opened wide when he pulls away. 

"We should get back," your hand wipes away some of the wetness on his face, "You go first, and I'll be there soon."

With a growl, he pulls you off the bureau and spins you around. He unzips and holds himself at your entrance watching your face in the mirror while he waits for you to fuck yourself onto his cock. Smirking, you oblige him, rocking back until your ass slaps his thighs. His eyes roll back as you really start to work him, rolling your hips as you push back hard and fast. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" you coo, sticky sweet, as you watch his face in the mirror, "You like watching yourself get fucked, Steve?"

His lips twist into a smug sneer as his hand comes down on your ass with a loud slap before he digs his fingers into your hips and starts meeting you thrust for thrust. Angry grunts mix with moans and swears. You're cumming again when his strokes get frantic.

"I'm gonna cum," he pants.

"No," you say, pushing back hard and moving away until he's out of your pussy, "you can't cum inside me."

His hand moves to his cock, stroking, trying to salvage the orgasm you had rudely interrupted. 

"What the fuck?" ropes of cum splash his shirt, and run down his hand staining his jeans.

Bending, you pick up your panties and smooth your skirt back in place. 

"Save that for when you're with Nancy."

That was the moment you won. His eyes widened with the realization of what he'd done with his cock softening in his hand. He really loves her, and now he can live with his guilt.

Pausing before you walk out the door, a little of that rust flaking off with a single pump of your heart – maybe not completely dead. 

"Steve," you look at him over your shoulder, blowing him a kiss, "have fun cleaning up your mess."

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog & drop me a comment. It helps others find my work. For more fics check out the pinned post at the top of my blog. Thanks for reading.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Algae

"I'm sure you've hard around the Bās system," she said, in faltering Human English: pronouncing hard rather than heard, and confusing around and about. But Objects in the Mirror gave her points for trying. Most emissaries would open in their own language, and just expect him to keep up.

"The solar flare? Yes, of course. Awful, awful news."

He folded his limbs in the Bās gesture for commiseration, and she reciprocated with an appreciative click. She wasn't indigenous Bāsic - not unless she was hiding a couple of arms under her gown - but emissaries were encouraged to adopt the planet of each posting as if it were their own.

"How long do they think until... you know?"

"Forty taons, more or less. A few more sons, and it will all be gone."

"A few generations," he translated. "It almost doesn't bear thinking about. Millennia of civilisation, and then the universe does this. I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

"I do speak Eastern Bāsic, if that's easier for you," Objects in the Mirror continued, wondering which would be her preference. She might have been born in the Com belt, from the shade and texture of her skin. "Or a few dialects of Comon. I was only on Earth for fifty taons, so I never went entirely native."

His correct guess was rewarded by another click, although her tone turned apologetic. "Sorry, is my ascent that strong? I grew up on Com-5, so Honsun is my baby tongue - but I'd like to perverse with Human, if you don't mind too much. It's good to have the practice."

"English it is." He smiled in the Human fashion, with his teeth instead of his eyes. "What else can I do for you?"

"As you will know, we have enjoyed sentries of peace. A perfect equilibrium. We spawn, we die, and our populations remain much the same. Our worlds remain much the same, held in balance to exactly meet our needs. But that balance has been tipped. This solar flare follows volcanic activity on Com-2, and soon we will be two worlds down. We will need new homes, and fast."

"I'm no terraformer," Objects in the Mirror said. "I'm a cultural researcher. I study the way things are, preserved, rather than changing what they might be."

"You know Earth," the emissary said. "If we have exhausted our own planets, we must look to bring others into the fold. Make our homes amongst them, if we can. You've been there, done it. Is there space?

"Space?" He chuckled at that. "Mankind abhors a vacuum. They can't see a blank page without filling it. Men are like a culture of algae, you understand. They'll always grow to fill their cell, their dish, and overflow if you forget to replace the lid. That's why we've kept them at arm's length. We want to keep the little that we have."

"They would take our homes? Destroy the rest of our balance?"

"They might not mean to, but yes." He crossed his various limbs in contemplation. "Not all of them, of course. You won't be familiar with their hobby of keeping bonsai trees, but they follow our approach to planets: looking inwards, all effort on perfecting what you have, and maintaining it in that state, as we do with our societies. But most men are more like weeds. They have no patience for perfection. Only growth drives them: more land, more wealth. More people. They breed like haraguti, and are never content in one place for long."

That concept was foreign to Com-5 as it was here. Objects in the Mirror knew that the emissary would have been raised with the same philosophy of life: home was home, and they would build it upwards before spreading out. All resources were devoted to improving the lot of their society, raising the baseline, no individual left behind, rather than expanding it - fighting wars whilst children starved at home, and leaving more misery in their wake.

Other than emissaries like her, researchers like him, there was little desire for citizens to leave their home systems, where everything was different to their tastes. A move to Earth would be a desperate measure, born of desperate times. But humans would colonise a barren rock as soon as they were given the means, just to see it done. Whatever the hardship, they would endure it, out of some driving need to overcome each barrier in front of them, and then the next, and then the next, whatever the personal cost.

"They've been on Earth a thousand years," she said. "They seem fairy content."

"Only because we've stopped them," he explained. "Their history is one of conquest. Every state has tried to spill over into its neighbours, taking from others and churning up their land, rather than building a paradise on their own soil. Every enterprise, whatever its success, chases constant growth and profit above preserving what they have. Do you know much about sharks?"

"Are they the ones with the tentacles?"

"No, but I suppose it doesn't matter. Aquatic predators. Big teeth. A man once told me that they need to keep moving or they die, and I think that men are the same. They're irrepressible, so we decided to repress them. We thought it better to keep them there." He paused. "Of course, could use a little irrepressible now."

"How do you mean?" the emissary asked. He wasn't sure if she meant that last point, or if he'd passed the limits of her vocabulary, in which case he'd have to repeat that whole thing. He took a gamble on the former.

"Are you familiar with concept of pioneer species? They're often seen as weeds, but they serve a vital ecological role. Fast spreading, fast reproducing, able to adapt to virgin land, terraforming it for others to follow. You get algae on an island first, and it creates the mulch for complex plants to grow in."

"Algae and weeds again," she said. "So what do you suggest? You said we can't go to Earth, because they will come to us."

"Or we could point them in the other direction, and see what else they find," he considered; arms still crossed, face still smiling. "Perhaps it's time to open the lid."

[naavispider]

Hey, if this isn't too much of a topic for you, I wanted to ask you if you think Spider could develop some type of eating disorder. I mean, Navi's tend to be very tall and tend to be naturally thin, but they're also very athletic. It seems to me that Pająk as a human would have to work much harder than maintaining his figure + he would probably try to be as perfect as possible so as not to stand out more from the rest. I have the impression that there may be a person who looks in the mirror and thinks that he has an imperfect body, not enough muscular figure, although this is not true. I've been thinking about a situation where because of all the stress of being kidnapped, the boy is eating/vomiting even less because he's eaten until he faints. How do you think Deja Team, Quaritch, Janine etc. would react to such a situation? Or because of the guilt of rescuing Quaritch, this would have happened after he was recaptured from the RDA. Perhaps Quaritch's son would then decide to train even harder to distract his thoughts from these events. Then I'd be interested in your take on the reactions of Kiri, Norm, Jake, Loak, etc. Again, if this is too uncomfortable for you, I'm sorry, I'm just curious. I know it was in your fic, but not in such a "drastic" version. I greet you very much <3

Yesss, I actually really do headcanon Spider as having some form of disordered eating when he's with the RDA (as to be expected). Obviously, trigger warning for the discussions surrounding this topic.

Before he was taken by the RDA:

he has to eat enough to keep his body in such peak physical condition. We know he is extremely fit, he has to be to keep up with the Omatikaya. So when he's eating at Hell's Gate with the science guys I can see him just devouring every meal set in front of him (he's a 'growing boy' after all) and not thinking twice.

in my headcanon, I don't see him developing an eating disorder while growing up, but I can see why people think that, given the possible body dysmorphia he must be feeling

After he's taken by the RDA:

Food isn't offered regularly and it is not dependable. Spider can't count on when his next meal will be, and he doesn't feel like he's in a position to ask. He's also not working out as much as before. Yes, he has to keep up with the recoms, but Deja Blue are not swinging through trees or lurching through the forest like the Omatikaya. So Spider can afford to eat less. (That's what he tells himself). He is also in such a constant state of anxiety that food always makes him feel slightly sick. When he does get the chance to eat, he sort of has to force himself to do it. (The beginning of disordered thinking patterns around food)

Quaritch and the recoms might start to notice, but nothing gets done until mama Janine (x) arrives on the scene to give Quaritch a blasting. She's sad because she knows why Spider finds it difficult to eat (they all do) - there's just nothing anyone can do about it. Spider is a prisoner of war, and the stress and fear and anxiety won't go away until the situation changes, so neither will his eating patterns

When he returns to the Sullys

He's lost his appetite over the months, plus is completely used to human food, so when he has to eat from the cookfires in Awa'atlu, he is both unfamiliar with the food and unwilling to eat in any large amounts.

he feels more at ease with them than with the RDA, but then he has the guilt of saving Quaritch weighing on his mind which festers anxiety instead

so he does start to loose weight. I don't know if this would develop into a full blown eating disorder, but I guess it's very possible - especially if Quaritch ever did go through on his promise in If You Playing Me and forced Spider to eat when the kid was in danger of going on hunger strike.

food seems to be a common issue for Spider in a lot of fanfic, including my own, and it would be interesting to explore why that is. I know that for me, I'm projecting a little bit of my own relationship with food onto him 😂

[bwobgames]

Previous First

"What?! We we're chatting so casually right above a ticking bomb?!"

"Not the most ideal place for homosexual activity, but certainly a memorable one"

They take the controllers and go outside

"Where could we hide them?"

"Maybe in the storage room? There were a lot of boxes there"

"No, no, if we loop again, they might end up back in the shed.

It needs to be outside the house"

"Alright, I'll just put them in.... under one of these trees. He probably won't see them"

"Yeah, Alright, just remember which tree"

They get into the woods, Ángel puts the controllers under a tree and takes out his pocket knife

He carves "Á + O" surrounded by a heart

"There, marked"

"... You really are something"

"Something worth keeping?"

"Of course.

Now let's go back"

"So what's the plan of action?"

"Um, I'm working on it"

"We could say something is wrong with the bar and that everyone should hide somewhere"

"Didn't you say we might not have enough time to talk to everyone?"

"Yes, I know"

"I, I guess we could try and take the control from him

Just, you know, pickpocket it"

"... It's not very safe, though, and someone could still get hurt, that man is armed"

"Let's just let the bomb go off"

"Huh?"

"If the bomb goes off, then there's no more bomb! And we don't have to worry about that"

"Yes, but someone could get hurt or worse! Then we would go back to the start!"

"Although... I guess that's also an option, going back to the start. I mean, now he has only one bomb"

"Ah, but then we'll lose the lead we have now, and he'll know we are up to something"

"Oh yeah, we have to talk to Nadia too"

"Maybe, maybe we could destroy the clock beforehand? To ensure that we won't loop?"

"No, that's too dangerous, we wouldn't get another chance if any of us dies"

"I know I know! It's just. Everything is dangerous. Everything has risks. I'm not sure what to do"

"Oliver, I want you to know something"

"I'm with you! no matter what you pick"

"So keep in mind that

If your plan fails

I'm killing that man with my own hands"

"Oh, it's that look again

The look of a man ready to kill

Ángel..."

"So don't worry, okay? I have your back"

"Ángel that is not as reassuring as you want it to be"

"I, I don't want Ángel to be a murderer

Anything I pick has its risks, but the time is running out, and there's only so many chances we're gonna get"

"I need to face this. Whatever consequences it might bring, I... I'll have to accept them

I promised I would save him

From this loop, from being a murderer, from seeing me die again

I'll do what it takes"

[goddevouringserpent]

some rambling thoughts about A Certain Videogame that is releasing soon (largely game-neutral and fandom-negative)

because. listen. there are a lot of things that I could criticise Dragon Age for. Inquisition was my biggest disappointment in gaming, even bigger than BG3 because with BG3 I was on the "I expected nothing and was still let down" mindset, whereas with DAI I was genuinely looking forward to it & felt like they did not deliver on any of the promises they made. there are a lot of things they have handled poorly. the ongoing plot about the elven gods is extremely unsatisfying & feels like a total cop-out and a loss of what made the world interesting in the first place.

but some people are approaching their criticism the wrong way IMO. because—alright I don't want to get into drama with anyone or bring drama to anyone so I won't be screenshotting OP's URL here, but this statement is just. outrageously ridiculous.

uh. no? it really is not that easy??? where are these texts coming from, pray tell? that shit doesn't sprout from the ground fully-formed. who's writing them? who's voicing them (unless we're meant to assume that you want all reactivity to be contained within codex entries)? even for interactive fiction games, where literally all you have is writing with no voice work or mocap work or whathaveyou involved, keeping track of these variables is extremely tough and time-consuming work. (source: I am writing one. unpublished as of yet, but I am writing it.) this is such a weirdly reductionist way of approaching the topic, especially in light of what we know has been going on at BW—they fired a large portion of the writers, including Mary fucking Kirby (which should be more concerning to us as players than a lack of reactivity, btw), there's clearly Issues going on there that encompass the whole company, there's a lack of funding or at least severe issues with how they're handling their funding, there's a lack of care for the people who have worked there for decades, etc etc.

is the lack of reactivity a problem? yeah I guess? maybe? but not for the reasons OP is saying, and it most definitely cannot be solved in the way OP is proposing. reactivity isn't a switch you turn on or off. and a reactivity like OP mentions would just make the world feel wide but shallow; things are acknowledged, but nothing comes out of them. there's a throwaway line of text, and that's that. because the alternative involves branching paths, cameos, different solutions to quests or different dialogue trees, etc etc, all of which is, again, a LOT of work, it's not something an intern can pull off in a day.

and like. alright. not to play devil's advocate here because I am, by and at large, hugely disenchanted with this franchise, and although I will be playing DATV (not that they'll be seeing a cent from me lol) just out of curiosity and sunk cost fallacy, I do not have high hopes for it. BUT.

Origins released in 2009. DA2 released in 2011. Inquisition—the latest entry in the franchise—released in 2014. that's a whole fucking decade in-between the third and fourth installments. and something that I think a lot of people online fail to understand is that the vast majority of gamers do not engage in fandom-type activities. we are a minority. a loud, outspoken minority, but a minority in the end. a LOT of people just play the game for what it is, then shelf it and don't think about it until the next one comes out (if it ever does). in this context I think that "making great use of the medium" would fall more along the lines of making sure there is proper reactivity within the game itself—meaning: let's NOT have another "human NPC humansplains Dalish history to my Dalish elf protag" moment—and not making callbacks to games from 10+ years ago, because. guys. we have to accept it. a LOT of the people who are gonna be playing this game won't have played DAO/DA2, or even DAI. a LOT of the people who are gonna be playing this game won't remember shit about the previous games. because a decade has passed. (if we're counting from DAI. otherwise we're looking at 15 years.)

especially when people start complaining about stuff like "what do you MEAN the choice of who we left in the Fade isn't relevant"—we were told that person's not coming back. like I could understand being upset at, IDK, your Inquisitor's romance choice (which btw does seem like their way of catering to the fandom part of the playerbase, but I digress) being more relevant than who is currently ruling Orlais, but if you're upset about the Fade thing you only have yourself to blame. we've known for years that character's Not Coming Back. the devs were very straightforward about that. ultimately it's not their fault if you've headcanoned your way around that statement. which like, don't get me wrong, I am all for headcanons, but when you have a headcanon you need to accept the fact that canon probably will contradict it eventually. your city now but also don't expect the devs to buy building permissions in your city, y'know?

but yeah. as I was saying. 10-15 years. most of the choices are gonna mean absolute jack shit to new (and a lot of returning!!) players, so at a certain point it makes sense that they had to make, like, a strategic choice of what to include and what to set aside. and of course it's a bummer for those of us who have been playing since DAO! I wanted mentions of my HOF, of Kieran, etc etc, there's a lot that makes me go "aww man". but also I think that people need to start acknowledging the fact that ultimately there are limits to what can and can't be done within the frame of one game that is being released, again, 10 years after the previous entry.

I mean tbh at this point I feel they'd be better served by having their next game be the first installment of a completely new franchise / IP. I can understand why they didn't make that choice. but it feels they'd be better off that way. having to deliver cameos and reactivity to Every Single Goddamn Choice Made In 3 Games The Oldest Of Which Is 15 Years Old is kind of a Sisyphean task that bogs the actual game down IMO

[deathfavor]

@yeonban said: "you're going to stay even longer?" Mikito's voice doesn't seem bothered as much as mildly interested in Seiroku's self-appointed mission at the Date, which is partly why he sent a signal to the other's heart to talk rather than spoil Seiroku's fun by dropping into the Date castle and taking them all by surprise. He fiddles with some strands of hair while falling into a quiet ponder, thinking about the information they've been given lately and categorizing it as not being the most relevant considering Seiroku's lengthy stay, but he won't pry about it for now. Who knows, maybe the grand generals truly are as secretive as they give off the impression to be. "maybe he'll slip up and tell you something we don't know."

Seiroku was thankful for the signal being sent rather than one of the dogs either literally showing up, or opening communications without him having time to get away. It was good timing - he was supposed to be going on a break anyways. He feigns finally relenting to the other medical staff's insistence that he go on break and steps outside, traveling some distance away until he's certain he's on his own. Only then does he properly allow the communication to open for a proper conversation.

" Mm, it's seeming like that, yes. " Seiroku sighs as he sits on the ground, head resting back against a tree. " That's the plan. Do you know how infuriating it is to be here? " He complains, offering a distasteful snort. " Much less having to heal them? Although ~ " A sadistic tone spikes in his voice as he grins. " It's also very convenient for seeing weaknesses in terms of what areas get injured more often. And using my threads to fix some of them means their reality can be twisted in a moment. " He flashes a sharp, violent hungry grin. " Might come in handy in the future. So although outright information isn't being as forthcoming as I'd hoped, I'm finding plenty of other ways to benefit us in the long term rather than just the short term. "

All of these statements are, at least to some level, true. It is the key to why his black heart does not waver or betray what might be lurking inside the black dog's mind. Facts were facts. And it was true, his first few weeks here had been insufferable as he forced his bloodlust and murderous rage to slumber while he played his role. Seiroku still can't pinpoint where acting and reality had started to blend and become harder to distinguish, where hatred had turned to something softer, as care threaded itself into truth rather than just the mask of an act.

The raven-haired gives a nod. " That would be ideal. But unlike what glimpses we have of previous clans, the Date take things much more seriously. Gaining trust is the key unless alcohol or something else might loosen lips. " He ponders that for a second, but he can't say he's seen any of them drink to that point. ( And if he has? He has no intention of sharing that news. ) " At least there's still some good information to gather even if its not the most relevant, but i'll make sure to keep everyone updated if I learn something more valuable. " He adds.

Liar. Really, if he'd lie to one, why not another? Or maybe its not lying so much as delaying and twisting matters to weave into a tapestry of his own image. In the end, there is only one outcome to this all. So Seiroku has every intention of enjoying this happiness, as temporary as it might be, for as long as possible.

[helpinghanyuu]

鬼隠し編 – ONIKAKUSHI-HEN (SPIRITED AWAY BY THE DEMONS) DAY 01_001

Even though we were approaching summer, the morning air still had a frigid bite.

Although, in exchange, you could fill your lungs up with crisp, clean air.

Flipping open the window, I was greeted with a verdant expanse.

Nothing but trees.

The neighboring house was far away on the other side, so I was probably the only one enjoying that view and that air.

I filled my lungs with another deep breath.

Since I started living in Hinamizawa, I learned that even air had its own taste.

I quickly finished getting ready for school and headed downstairs for breakfast.

My mother was the only one there. My father was nowhere to be seen.

He was probably up working until the early morning.

Dad had a rather unconventional job as a painter.

It's such a laid-back profession.

Get up when you want, sleep when you want, and work when you want.

I was so jealous of that easy-going lifestyle,

I even wrote for school that I wanted to be a painter when I grew up. Dad was ecstatic about that.

It was just because it looked easy. I'd never tell him that, though.

Mom laid breakfast out on the table.

Seaweed, pickled vegetables, raw egg, and grilled salmon.

My mom was such a good cook, it was scary.

A perfect, immaculate, ideal breakfast.

Unlike my dad, who didn't even know the meaning of the word schedule, my mom never squandered any time or effort.

She hummed a little tune as she brought over the miso soup. It seemed like she was in a good mood today.

“I'm so happy you've been waking up early since we moved here, Keiichi.”

“If I don't wake up early, I won't have time to eat breakfast.”

I thought I was being cute, responding with a wise-crack after being praised for being good.

“Full bowl of rice? Or will half be enough?”

“Pile it on.”

First, I savored the steaming hot rice with the seaweed.

After that, I covered it with the egg.

Between bites of rice, I enjoyed the crunch of the pickles.

Not bad at all.

Excellent, as usual.

Watching me clean my plate, Mom gave me a warm smile.

“I'm so happy you haven't skipped breakfast ever since we moved here, Keiichi.”

I was not a morning person when we lived in the city.

I slept right until the last minute before school and rarely ate breakfast.

Boycotting the breakfast Mom made me each morning... that was probably the only way I could protest being forced to attend cram school.

...I guess that was what you'd call my rebellious phase.

I wouldn't so much as look at the breakfast she woke up early every day to make.

If I could go back in time, I'd slap myself.

Mindful of the time, Mom rushed me along with a wide grin.

“Isn't it about time to meet up with Rena-chan?

Hurry, hurry.”

Mom really seemed to enjoy the fact that her son was going to school with a girl.

Rena is one of my classmates.

She really loves looking after people, coming to meet me every day without fail.

The way I looked at it, a guy my age walking to school with a girl was just lame...

But, well, keeping a classmate waiting for me every day wouldn't be very considerate.

...Seriously, though, how long does Rena wait there for me every morning...?

Taking one last gulp of miso soup, I raced for the door.

“Please thank Rena-chan for the pickles~!”

Come to think of it, those pickles weren't store-bought, were they?

...If I'd known that, I would have savored them a bit more!

“Mornin'!”

“Keiichi-kun~!

Good morning~!”

Her cheerful greeting was as fresh as the morning itself.

“You're always so early.

You should try sleeping in sometime.”

“If I sleep in, I'll keep you waiting.”

...She's so conscientious, and such a good person.

“If that ever happens, I'll just leave you behind.”

“Keiichi-kun, you're so cold.

I wait for you all the time…”

“I'll leave you in the dust.

Without looking back.”

“Why are you so mean?

...Why?”

Rena had a slightly troubled look on her face.

Toying with her was rather fun because of how quickly her mood changed.

“I'm kidding. I'd wait for you.”

With those words, Rena seemed to relax.

Her face flushed bright red.

“...Ah ...Th-Thank you…”

“I'd wait forever until you came, Rena.

No matter how long.”

“...Ah-ah, ah...

...For...

Forever…”

Rena turned bright red, steam rising from her head as her brain short-circuited.

She's especially weak to this sort of talk.

It's quite rare to find someone this fun to tease.

“Have you ever read a romance novel, Rena...?”

“...Huh...

...Ah ...I haven't.

N-Never read any before.”

From that response, I gathered she was interested in them but was too embarrassed to actually buy one.

I couldn't imagine what would happen if she did read one.

She'd probably turn red and pass out...

“Oh, yeah, message from Mom. She says thanks for the pickles.”

“I-It was nothing. You're welcome~.

How were they?

Not too salty?”

“They weren't that salty.

Actually, they had a pretty light flavor to them.”

...It would have been fine to just be honest and say they were good, but apparently I couldn't be that forthright.

...I'd like to ask something before that.

“Were you the one who pickled them, Rena?

Or was it your mom?”

“Huh?

...Huh? Why do you ask?

Were...

Were they too salty...?”

Her attitude completely changed as she began to panic frantically.

“Was it you, Rena? Or was it your mom?”

“...Wh-Why are you asking who made them?

...Why!?”

“Depending on who made them, my opinion of them might change drastically.”

“...Huh, huh uh...!?”

She counted frantically on her fingers, trying to remember the amount of salt she'd used to pickle them.

...It wasn't like I was trying to tease her, but I couldn't stop myself.

Guys who take pleasure in this kind of thing are probably the worst.

...Guys like me.

Rena nervously opened and closed her mouth over and over, trying to muster a response.

“...I-It was me…”

“Delicious.”

“Huh?”

“Pretty good, just like the last ones. They went perfectly with the rice.”

Her face went bright red again.

She was completely spacing out.

It truly was a lot of fun to tease her.

I pray that Rena never gets taken advantage of by some lowlife.

Keep at it, Rena. I'll train you until you handle it like the average person!

...Or so I decided for myself.

“Let's go! If we keep Mion waiting, we'll never hear the end of it.”

Seeing as she'd just keep spacing out otherwise, I called Rena back to reality so we could make our way to school.

This strange, easily flustered girl is Rena Ryuugu.

I've only known her for about a month, but I've come to realize it's not just her name that's strange.

“Mii-cha~n! Good morning~!”

Coming up to the next rendezvous point, we saw another person waiting for us.

Noticing us, she waved.

“Ah, finally, finally. You two are late~!”

“Usually, you're the one who's late!”

In sharp contrast to the diligent Rena, this one marched to the beat of her own drum.

She's Mion Sonozaki.

For what it's worth, she's our senior and head of the class.

“Morning Rena. And it's been a while, Kei-chan!

How many years?”

“I was only off two days!”

“Ah haha!

You don't say.

You were so much cuter back then!”

Mion's gaze started at my chest then dropped straight down, focusing on the point between my legs.

...So she was saying it was my crotch that was cuter back then.

Before you ask, just to be clear, I've never actually tried to show it to her.

“I've grown quite splendidly.

You'd be surprised.

Not only is he bigger, but he has a little moustache now~☆

Being so *engorged* with energy every morning is quite a problem, though.

I'll introduce you next time, so be sure to greet him properly.”

“Don't say 'next time.' Right now is just fine.

How about letting the little guy get a breath of fresh morning air?”

“I don't think I've ever heard talk so dirty you could smell it fouling up the morning air before.”

Mion sure does act like an old man sometimes.

“Gotcha.

Time for the big reveal.

Hope you don't regret it...!!”

As my hand reached for my fly, Rena began to ramble in a near panic.

“...Hey,

hey hey...

What are you talking about?

What're you talking about!? What're you talking about...!!”

Red-faced and flustered, Rena tried to play dumb, but it was obvious she knew exactly what we were talking about.

“How was it?

Seeing the city again.”

Mion switched gears, dropping the dirty talk and changing the topic to something more befitting the pleasant morning.

“I only went for a funeral. I didn't have much time.”

“So yeah! Did you look for iiit?

...That thing I asked for?”

“You're... not listening... at all.

I just came back from a funeral!

I didn't have any time to look around in toy stores!”

“Tsk tsk tsk.

Toy stores and hobby shops are completely different, you know? 

It's really difficult to get western stuff around here, after all.”

“Is this about games again, Mii-chan?”

Mion nodded proudly as Rena giggled.

“Yep! I wanted Kei-chan to bring me back a 'west port' catalogue, you see.”

West port was short for western imported games.

Using that abbreviation did make it sound pretty geeky.

“You can just get them to send you one in the mail, can't you?”

“Well, guess I have to now.

I'm going to get another game full of hot action!”

“...Th-This time, I'd like a game that's easy to understand…”

Mion is a board and card game enthusiast, and I hear she's collected quite a lot of different ones.

According to Rena, Mion's room has kind of become a museum for domestic and foreign games.

If there's a game you think I'd understand, let me play too.

“Heh... of course!

If Kei-chan is up for it. I should warn you though, we're pretty tough.”

“Just what I want.

I play all sorts of games. I don't intend to lose!”

“...Whoa...

Then we'll let you in the group this time, I guess.

...I guess!”

Bristling with joy from head to toe, Rena looked back and forth between me and Mion.

Mion gave her an affirmative wink, and her expression perked up even further.

“I thought boys preferred playing outside more, so... I figured you wouldn't want to.”

Rena laughed happily.

From such a friendly conversation, you wouldn't think I had moved here less than a month ago.

I understood that they did all they could to make a transfer student like me feel at home.

I'll have to try harder to fit in, so they won't feel like they have to try to make me feel welcome.

I felt like if I acted a bit more open than I usually am, it should probably be about right for this place.

Hinamizawa was a really small village. Not only was there only one school, but there was only one class.

That class encompasses all different grades and ages.

There are about 30 students at different levels, and they all study in the same class.

I'm told that, long ago, there used to be a bigger school building and they had actual separate classes.

However, it seems something happened that made it become a single class, and now it stayed that way out of tradition.

I was shocked at first, but humans adapt pretty quickly. I've already gotten quite used to it.

The sound of children playing started right from the morning.

With such a lively mood, it felt more like a kindergarten than a proper school, not that that was a bad thing.

Mion, who had been walking in front of us up until then, suddenly let me take the lead.

Right in front of the classroom door.

So I was meant to slide the door open and enter the room first.

“Heh…”

Too bad. I wasn't going to fall for that again.

“...To think you'd give up the lead here.

You meant for this to be a test of my skills.”

Mion chuckled with a haughty smirk on her face.

“Wh-What is it... you guys...?”

“Step back, Rena. It's dangerous.

...She's here!”

“Huh...?

Then... Satoko-chan is...!?”

Her name was Satoko Houjou.

She was a disrespectful, impudent, bossy kid.

The way she talks was annoying, but it would be immature to get worked up over just that.

The real problem... was this...

...Quite the obvious trap. A blackboard eraser wedged in the door.

“...It's too obvious! Satoko!”

A haughty laugh came from beyond the door.

“Excellent, Kei-chan! ...I guess that means you win this round?”

...No, this is Satoko we're talking about.

I doubt this is it..!

After falling for such intricate traps since the day I transferred, I no longer let my guard down.

Satoko liked to combine a variety of traps: traps that were simply there to bait you into the main one, traps that relentlessly kept coming at you like a sadistic Rube Goldberg machine, the list goes on.

As well as being clever, they almost never misfire.

When you least expect it... she strikes!

No escape. No time to relax.

“By the looks of it, this eraser is normal.

No rocks or anything in it.

I took a pretty heavy hit from a blackboard eraser loaded with rocks on my first day.”

“So then why don't you just open the door and let it drop...?”

That's what it is!

That's what Satoko was after.

Making me focus my attention upward. So as I lifted my hand to the door...

There were thumbtacks stuck to the sliding door handle with tape; a frightening trap.

A potent and terrifying trap.

Concealed by using the blackboard eraser...

An impressive combination, Satoko!

But in the end nothing more than the trivial machinations of a child!

Assured of my victory, I threw the door open and stepped into the room.

I felt something strange at my ankle.

It was similar to the sensation of a jump rope catching on my leg.

By the time I realized she had me—hook, line, and sinker—it was already too late.

I began to fall in an almost picturesque manner.

“Kei-chan, watch out!!”

Instinctively reacting to Mion's shrill warning, I twisted my body in midair before I landed on the floor.

“...Ow ow... ow!?”

An ink stone, filled to the brim, was placed right where I would have landed...!

I shuddered, imagining the situation had I landed square on it.

“My, my, what do we have here?

A fair morning to you, Keiichi-san. Aren't we a lively one this morning~!”

Still sprawled in an awkward position, I was greeted by a mocking voice.

“That was a step up from your usual traps, Satoko!!”

“I haven't the faintest idea what you mean.

You're quite unlucky this morning.”

“You little~...!!

...

...

...Owowow…”

It seemed I'd inadvertently sprained my back a little when I'd landed.

...Better than landing on that inkstone.

A small hand gently rubbed my head.

“...Pain, pain, go away.”

The small, dainty hand continued to gently stroke my head.

“...You didn't sprain your back or anything, did you...?

If you rub it like this, the pain disappears…”

I thought about asking how rubbing my head would help my back, but I didn't.

It's not so much about what you actually do, it's the thought that counts.

“Y... Yeah, thanks Rika-chan. The pain's going away now.”

“Yay~! ...Rika-chan! Good mor~ning!”

“...Good morning to you, Rena.

A good morning to all.”

Rika-chan greeted each of us with an adorable little bow.

It was infectious. Rena, Mion, and I all bowed back.

“You're such a good kid, Rika-chan...

So much better than Satoko...!”

I glared over in her direction. Satoko was whistling while rather deliberately trying to avoid eye contact.

“I am the very model of a good girl.”

“A good girl wouldn't set those nasty traps!”

“Nothing but lies and slander!”

“Exactly what proof—

...Uwah!”

I picked up Satoko by the back of her collar.

She looks like a misbehaved cat when I do this.

But a cat wouldn't be setting traps.

...She's much harder to deal with!!

“I-M S-O-R-R-Y.

Try saying that.

If you won't say it...!”

I cocked my index finger on my thumb, letting it tremble as I brought it closer to Satoko's forehead.

“I-I'm against violence!!

You don't even have any proof!!”

“Just so you know, my forehead flick really hurts.

It can split plywood right in half!”

“Eeeeeeeek...!!!!

Stop! Get away from me, you beast~!!!”

“Don't say that in a way people will misunderstand!!”

A small hand tugged on the back of my shirt.

“...She's been lonely since you were gone for two days.”

...Rika-chan really is just so...

How could I do anything more after being told that?

I gently released my grip on Satoko, who at this point was on the verge of tears. She still had her eyes clamped shut as she braced herself for the forehead flick.

“...U-Uwaaaaaaa...hnn!!

It doesn't bother me!!

Uwaaaaahn!”

“...You mustn't cry, Satoko.

Keep on fighting,

yeah.”

Rika gently petted the head of her prankster friend.

You would never guess those two are the same age.

I think Satoko could learn a thing or a million from Rika-chan.

“...Next time, set an even more amazing trap.”

...Waiiit a minute...

As she observed the scene, Rena's expression grew ecstatic as she began to swoon.

“...Hao~... Satoko-chan is crying…

Sho kyute…”

“You can't take them home.”

“...Huu!

...But, but... they're sho kyute?”

“You can't, no matter how 'kyute' they are.”

“But... just for a bit... is fine?

Is fine?”

Rena kept a cutesy face even as outrageous ideas spewed from her mouth...

According to Mion... Rena is ridiculously weak to cute things and always tries to take them home.

Object or person...!

“Stealing is bad, but abducting people is even worse.

Give it up.”

“Then I can just look. Just looking...

that should be fine, right? Right?”

Rena swooned over Satoko's crying form.

If a girl ever goes missing in Hinamizawa, I'll be forced to turn Rena in to the authorities.

Forgive me, Rena.

I'll be sure to bring you care packages when they put you away!

“The teacher's coming.

Quickly, clean everything up!

Satoko! That inkstone is yours, right?”

Just from Mion's single statement, the entire mood of the room shifted back to normal.

The inkstone was bad, but the thumbtacks stuck to the door handle were an even bigger problem!

I pulled the tape off carefully, making sure not to skewer myself.

Even though Satoko was the one who set it up, everyone had to pick up after her.

By the time the teacher entered the room, the bedlam from before had been neatly tidied up.

Ahahaha, we made it in time!

“Rise, attention!”

Mion gave out the morning commands.

It's difficult being the teacher for all these different grades in one classroom.

She has to teach something different to each one.

But naturally she ends up spending all her time with the younger kids.

Rena and Mion, being in the highest grade in the class, end up mostly doing self-study.

They even end up helping teach the younger kids, so it seems like they can never get to their own studies.

They're actually way behind where my studies have progressed to.

As a result, I'm pretty much taking over for the teacher and helping Rena and Mion with their studies.

“You're a pretty good teacher, Keiichi-kun.

Easy to understand.”

Rena took a breather after finishing highlighting an important section.

“Teaching is making me lose confidence.

It makes me aware of how shallow my understanding of the subject is.

They say that to teach someone something, you need to understand it backwards and forwards.”

“So while you're teaching us, you're getting in your own practice.”

“In contrast, this person over here is quite laissez-faire about things.”

For one, isn't she supposed to be in a higher grade than me!?

“Look Mion, this is for your own good.

If you don't take this seriously there'll be trouble later on.

With these marks…”

“It's not like I'm aiming to go on to a prestigious school.

I'll be fine as long as I pick up what I need to know for the entrance exams a little at a time!”

Her staunch defiance was really something else.

This was a different type of relaxed than somebody who already knew what was going to be on the entrance exams.

“Mii-chan, Keiichi-kun is doing his best to teach us.

We need to try hard, too.”

“You're such a good and honest kid, Rena.

I'll make sure you guys get accepted into a good school.”

“...Wh-Wha...

Th-Thanks so much…”

“Especially you, Rena.

Private lessons... just the two of us.”

“...Pr-

...Private...le-

lessons…”

A puff of smoke shaped like a halo...

Popped out of Rena's head.

Exactly what kind of private lesson is she fantasizing about that's making her turn so red...?

I'd like to hear the play-by-play about that next time.

While Mion was flipping through her vocabulary flash cards, she threw out a casual question.

“So, in the city, do you have to study this much?”

“If you don't know at least this much you can't get into university.”

“So you study just to get into a university?”

“Well...

Yeah, basically.

While knowing that this stuff won't ever come in handy in the future.”

“Out here, you can get into university as long as your attendance is good enough.”

“...R-Really...!?”

Study = Entrance Exams. Having that basic law of the universe so easily overturned sent me into a state of shock.

“That is right.

There aren't really enough people around here to warrant weeding them out with an exam.

If anyone can get into university, then there's no need to be all uptight about this stuff, right?”

“...Well, that's true... but you should at least know stuff that's common knowledge…”

“This old geezer thinks that, instead of wasting time studying pointlessly, you should be spending your precious teen years doing more meaningful things.”

It was too profound of a statement to simply laugh off.

But since it was Mion, it probably didn't actually have that deep of a meaning.

In place of a chime, the sound of the principal waving a hand bell drifted through the classroom.

“Kei-chan, we're done! We're done!

It's our wonderful lunch time!”

In a complete 180 from her unmotivated state, Mion gave the commands that signaled the end of the morning period.

“...Keiichi-kun, let's have lunch.☆”

I might have been making a very troubled face.

Rena smiled brightly at me.

“Awright!

Let's eat!”

There seemed to be different cliques, even within the class.

Most of them were divided up by gender and age, but our group was different.

Our ages were different and we had both boys and girls.

But we weren't reserved around each other.

This level of openness makes a transfer student like me pretty happy.

Rena and Mion pushed their desks together so they were facing each other.

At the same time, Satoko and Rika-chan were slowly lugging their desks over as well.

“Keiichi-kun, hurry, hurry!”

Rena waved her chopsticks in an unrefined manner, trying to hurry me along.

Unless everyone was together, they wouldn't even open their lunch boxes.

“Keiichi-san's lunch box is most assuredly filled with nothing but bread crusts like some sort of destitute plebeian~!

Why don't you just show it to us? Come now!”

Even though Satoko was hurling insults at me, she still wouldn't open the lid to her lunch box until I was there.

I pulled out my lunch box swiftly and dragged my chair over to join the circle.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting!”

“...Well then, Representative Mii, please give the signal to start!”

At first, this was kinda embarrassing, but I got used to it pretty fast.

At this point, I probably wouldn't even open my own lunch box if someone else was too slow.

Our ages and genders may have all been different, but we were all friends.

“Let's eat!!”

The sound of our little five-part chorus echoed beautifully throughout the classroom.

Really, though, I've gotten pretty used to this group made up of all girls.

Of course there are other boys in the class, but they were a lot younger, so they were scared to approach me.

Well, that's to be expected.

Younger boys just see older boys as scary.

Compare that to girls... Well, at least these girls aren't picky.

We put all the side dishes in the middle where everybody was free to pick at them.

I thought girls would mind sharing a meal with a guy, so I was a bit flustered joining in. However, Mion noticed that and teased me quite a bit.

As the fruit of my efforts(?), I can now reach over and take sides from anybody's lunch.

“My, my. Isn't Sir Keiichi's lunch extravagant today?”

“My, my, isn't Madam Satoko's lunch extravagant as well?”

The stewed stuff has a nice look to it, rather trendy.

Buying into the fight that Satoko was starting, our chopsticks locked in a cross-counter, stabbing into each other's lunch.

“My, how delicious!

Oh, this taro is good.”

“The stewed stuff is good too, even cold!”

After seeing my happy face, Rika-chan's expression broke into a little smile.

“...I saved some from dinner last night.”

By the way, Satoko and Rika-chan's lunches are always the same.

It seems that Rika-chan makes it for both of them every day.

“Rika-chan made this too?

...These taste like Mom's home cooking!”

I was honestly impressed.

The carrot rosettes weren't from a mold; they were done by hand with a knife.

That's not easy to do.

I guess Rika-chan's just good at this sort of thing.

She's really good at sewing, laundry, and stuff like that.

Amazing, right?

Amazing!

Rika is quite exceptional in many ways.

“Ohhohohoho!

That's nothing for you to boast about!”

“...Rena's actually better at cooking than I am.”

“...Huh,

ah,

...well... you know.☆”

It seemed that the topic of conversation switched to Rena when she wasn't expecting it, making her blush and trip over her words.

Rena's lunch really was the star of the table.

Not only did it look good, it tasted good!

Everyone else pulled from Rena's lunch box constantly.

“Everyone liked this one so much before, so I made a lot this time.

...It's good, I hope?

...I hope?”

“It's got high marks from me!”

“Ah, Mion, you're taking too much!”

Knocking Mion's chopsticks aside, I reached out, trying to secure my own portion. Satoko and Rika-chan reached over at the same time and a struggle ensued.

Everyone shoveled in mouthful after mouthful while praising it, and Rena's lunch box was soon empty.

It was kinda bad that no one thought to leave any for Rena.

But Rena seemed rather satisfied as she looked on.

“How did you like it? Isn't Rena-san an extremely good cook too?

Quite different from Keiichi-san!”

“I said that's nothing for you to boast about!”

“You're not much different from Kei-chan, Satoko.

Can you tell the difference between broccoli and cauliflower yet?”

Satoko's face went pale.

“...Hey, hey. Even I can tell the difference between broccoli and cauliflower, you know?

O-Of course I can!

...I really can!”

It's really hard for her to lie.

“Keiichi-kun, both taste good when they're boiled and topped with mayo, right?”

“You shouldn't be picking on her…”

“Mii-chan too!”

Rena hurriedly tried to follow up, but Mion laughed haughtily as she drew closer to Satoko.

“Well, well, just pretend it's a little home-ec lesson.

...Now then, Satoko...

What's this?”

Mion lifted up her chopsticks. Between them was a piece of green stuff wrapped in bacon.

“...But that's... asparag...mngh.”

Mion made eye contact with me and within .3 seconds, I had Rika-chan's mouth covered.

Holding a piece of bacon-wrapped asparagus and giving her two choices... She's pretty terrible.

“Uum, well!

Uhh...

The yellow one is cauliflower... No, wait... the green one is cauliflower…”

“So which!? Hmm?”

“Probably... the yellow one is broccoli and the blue one is cauliflower...

But the green one is...

um...

uu…”

“Do you really know which is which? How about you just give up~?”

I'd expect no less from the class representative.

The oldest.

The way she drives people into a corner just shows how much experience she has.

This is just a hunch, but being brought into the Sonozaki household must be quite the ordeal...

“I do know...!

I really do!!”

“Then answer the question!”

“...I know... I know...

Uwaaaaaahn!!”

She finally broke down and started crying.

When she acts like this, she actually starts to seem her age.

“...Ha...

Hao~... K-Khyuute…”

Rena entered a state of euphoria as Satoko bawled her eyes out.

Rena was in a state of bliss as she rubbed her cheek against Satoko's head and smothered her.

...Really... a very content face.

One that wouldn't care if the world ended right then—it was that kind of smile.

“Rena, Rena~!

MiiMii is picking on me-!

Uwaaaaahn!!”

“Khyute khyute...!

It's okay, Rena-oneechan will take care of all those bad people who tease my little sister!”

FWISH BOOF BAM!!

It was like a flash of lightning.

“...What...

was that...

just now...?”

Both of Rena's fists shot out at supersonic speeds, striking Mion and me squarely in our faces.

Before we knew it, Mion and I were sprawled spread-eagle on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with matching welts on our faces...

“...This is the first time you've gotten one, right?

...Today... she went easy on us…”

“...E-Easy... You mean, there's something harder than this...?”

With that, Mion and I both slumped our heads back to the floor in unison.

From now on, I'll be careful when I'm within striking distance of Rena...

“See, Satoko-chan? I took care of them.

...Mmm, khyute~!

I wanna take you home~!”

Making sure Rena couldn't see it, Satoko stuck her tongue out at us.

Tsk, damn it all~! Using Rena like a puppet!!

Rika-chan massaged our bruises without saying a word...

No matter what the day had held, the last school bell always came too soon.

Our shadows stretched off into the distance.

“Hey, Keiichi-kun. Tomorrow, do you have plans or anything...

...or anything?”

“Huh...?”

It was such a direct question from Rena I inadvertently blushed.

I-If it was for a date, then wouldn't you do it more subtly??

Rena saw me lost for words and realized that I'd misunderstood, and turned red as well.

“...Uh, ...ah, ...N-No, ...I didn't mean it like that... you see...!”

So apparently that wasn't what she meant.

But since it's always fun when Rena's in a panic, I went along with it a little.

“Oh, really... So... it wasn't meant that way…”

“Huh...!? Huuh!?”

Playing it up, I slumped my shoulders, feigning dejection.

“...K-Keiichi-kun, why are you so disappointed, why?

Why!?

...Mii-chaaan!”

“...Pfft.

Aahahahahahaha!!”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Mion slapped me on the back.

“I see! This old geezer never knew you could push her buttons like that.

Wahahahaha!!!”

“...Huh? ...Huh? What? What!? What is it!?”

Mion was rolling on the floor clutching her stomach while Rena flailed around, completely bewildered.

I couldn't help but start laughing as well. Feeling just a bit guilty, I ruffled Rena's hair.

“Kidding. Sorry, it was a joke... That was my fault.”

She really is a cute one.

“...Huh? ...Huh? ...A joke? Since when!? Since when!?”

“Huh, ah... about halfway through.”

“...Halfwaaay?”

“So Kei-chan, that means you weren't acting when you blushed at the start?”

“...Huh...? ...Th-That means...?”

It was only a momentary lapse, but there was no way Mion would let such a delectable detail slip by her.

“Uh, well, you see…”

Saying anything more was also a bad idea...

In my bewildered state, I slipped further into an unfavorable position.

After that, Mion continued to tease me about it for a while...

“...So, why were you asking if I'm free tomorrow, Rena?”

“Huh...? Oh... What were we talking about...?”

It had been so long that Rena had forgotten. That's how long Mion had teased me.

“It's just, Kei-chan... you probably can't find your way around Hinamizawa by yourself yet, can you?”

That was true.

I hate to say it, but if you blindfolded me and spun me around three times like we're playing pin the tail on the donkey, I wouldn't be able to tell up from down here.

“...Yeah. I don't think I know how to get anywhere besides back and forth from school.”

“Yes, yes. So you see, tomorrow, we were thinking that Mii-chan and I could escort you through Hinamizawa and show you around…”

That would be a godsend. Frankly, I was happy about the offer.

“You'll come of course, right?”

“If I'm free.”

“You're being invited by a girl, you know!?”

“If I'm free.”

“You're probably free anyways.”

“If I'm free.”

I was being stubborn so as not to give a clear yes or no.

Even though I thought it was a godsend, I'm too much of a scamp to say so up front.

“...Keiichi-kun... you're not free, perhaps?

...Perhaps?”

While Mion and I had our rather sour back-and-forth, Rena peeked over at me hesitantly.

Figuring I'd been a bit too rough on her, I just gave in.

“...Sorry. Forgive me. I apologize.

I'm free.”

“...Great!”

The trepidation disappeared from Rena's face as it blossomed into a smile.

“Hey now, hey now!

Seems like there's quite a difference between how cold you are to me compared to Rena, isn't there!?”

It seems Mion didn't care for how rude I was to her, compared to how quickly I agreed with Rena.

But her being annoyed was very interesting.

So I pushed Rena forward, speeding up our pace to leave Mion behind.

“Let's go, Rena.

Maybe it should just be the two of us tomorrow, leave grumpy ol' Mion behind.”

“...Huh,

woah...

If Keiichi-kun... is okay with that, then…”

“I'm the one who came up with the idea to take him around~!!

Don't ignore me, Keiichi Maebara!!”

“It'd be great if the two of us could go on a picnic together! Should we bring a basket, Rena?”

“...I-If we're bringing a basket...

I'll...

make all the food, maybe...

Maybe!”

“Don't you ignore me too, Rena! I'll tell everyone that you two disappeared into the hotel district together!”

“Well then... I'm going home right now to start making it...!

Tomorrow is going to be so fun~! Later Keiichi-kun, Mii-chan! Bye!”

Rena bounded off like she was walking on the moon.

After the dust settled, all that was left was me standing next to Mion sprawled out on the ground. There was a welt on her face.

“...Are you all right...?

There was over two meters between you guys…”

“...S... Since you came, they've become sharper...

This old geezer's body can't handle it…”

“...Maybe it'd be easier if you stopped saying stuff that makes Rena want to hit you…

Or else this will end up being Mion's Slapstick Comedy Hour.

If that happened, the results might be fatal...

Don't feel bad, Mion. You're probably the only one who can dodge her jabs!”

“...It felt like it was her knee, though...

...Could it be that we were hanging around with an unrivaled martial arts master?

Maybe someday we'll see her debut in an extreme contact sport…”

“You can't lose to Rena! You need to train up and have a rematch!”

“Kei...

Kei-chan, you should...

This old geezer will root for you…”

Mion and I reaffirmed our determination to discover a way to counter Rena's infallible technique...

[fakesaintess]

His Body Is My Coffin

Chap Summary: Part 1 of a two part update, this one from Deuce's perspective. -------- His look? Deuce ponders that. He can't remember the night people continually bring up but he can see the remnants of it in himself. He runs his fingers across his exposed ribs, slipping one in to brush against his heart. Although he doesn't believe it, the idea that he died makes his chest ache.

Chapter 3

Epel's thoughts are unknown to Deuce who's following behind his new, but only because of bygone eras, upperclassman. They cast wary glances over their shoulder occasionally to see if he's still following. He assumes they're nervous he'll run off and give the school a scare. Deuce has no interest in that. Though they may ask, Deuce has already had his phase of striking fear into the hearts of all. There's no need to repeat that.

He follows them through the mirrors and to his old dorm. He gazes at the building, the maze, the rose trees, and then in the most soothing tone he can muster up says, "The rose maze looks different. It's nice." Soothing is what he'll try to be, not scary, not harsh, not unnerving, but soothing in a way that'll make people feel safe despite what he is now.

"All things that live one day die so new things can blossom in their place. That's what happened to the old rose maze." And that's what happened to you, is what Riddle left unsaid but implied.

"I've heard some flowers that die bloom again next year. I'm no scientist but I don't think that's wrong. Just how things happen." Deuce isn't any flower, that he knows, but he is back and he won't let that be changed.

"If the rose maze is no longer as you remember it the inside of the dorm must differ as well. Come inside." Riddle backs down, generously so if you asked him.

Deuce feels like he's doing a lot of following today. He only adds to that by following Riddle into the dorm. Trey tags along with them but remains suspiciously silent. Or, what Deuce believes to be the truth, he's doing his best to avoid contact with Deuce. He isn't sure why, but be could take a few stabs at the reason why. And he's taken plenty of literal stabs.

Riddle only briefly explains rooms as they weave through them, naming what they are, their usage and the number of rules Deuce would need to know about said room. It isn't till they get to bedrooms that they all stop.

"Due to my influence, the number of students in this dorm has remained the same since the start of the year. This means in each room there are four to a room. Except," Riddle opens one of the doors one handedly with flare, "This one. You'll be the fourth one to this room."

"This is the same room as Ace. I'm sure he'll show you the ropes since you seem to be friends." Trey says. He's smiling in a way that seems natural. Natural in the way that makes him look like he's hesitant about what's happening but is making the best of it.

"It does seem like you'll be spending your time together. Forgive his future behavior and actions." Riddle closes the door to the room. "I'll lend you the necessary rulebook for this dorm and needed textbooks for your classes can be gotten from the library until you get your own."

Riddle looks Deuce over up and down then frowns. "While there are many things you need we will focus on getting you the necessary clothing for campus life first. For now, borrow some of Ace's uniforms."

"Can't we just wash this one?" Deuce asks, tugging at his shirt collar.

"If we were to put that in the wash it'd fall apart." Riddle says.

"It suits your look." Trey offers that as a forced compliment.

His look? Deuce ponders that. He can't remember the night people continually bring up but he can see the remnants of it in himself. He runs his fingers across his exposed ribs, slipping one in to brush against his heart. Although he doesn't believe it, the idea that he died makes his chest ache.

"When's your birthday?" Riddle asks, an unexpected topic jump.

"Um, June 3rd." Deuce answers.

"As your birthday nor anyone else's is today, we'll host an Unbirthday party to introduce you to everyone else. Time will be needed to set things up before you can reveal yourself. You should spend that time in Ramshackle. Check if any of your things remain. I'll send someone to fetch you when you should appear." Riddle's rapid fire delivery includes exactly what Trey believes shouldn't happen, introducing Deuce to everyone all at once. There's no point in Trey protesting, not that he wants to. Riddle had made up his mind.

"Before I go, can I check out the rose maze? That's changed too so I wanna take a peek." Deuce asks.

"We can look quickly. Trey, head back before me. Try to inform whatever members you can about the Unbirthday party." Riddle orders, hoping to hurry to school.

Trey is grateful for the chance to slip away from Deuce. Deuce can tell as he leaves with a goodbye.

There's no time to get caught up in that, Riddle looks Deuce in the eye before Trey is even out of eyesight. "This will be quick as I stated earlier. I will not miss out on any more of my classes than absolutely necessary."

"I just want one look." Deuce pleads his case.

For once, he is not being lead or instructed to go somewhere. Although Riddle is with him, Deuce is in charge of the twists and turns they take. He mimics a path he used to take as closely as he can manage with the maze's new layout, leading him to the maze's center. Rose petals flutter through the fresh air like a painting, a scene that would stick with someone. And it does stick with Deuce, not for its beauty, but for it's unexpectedness.

In his mind the statues within the maze had no reason to be replaced. Yet here they were. The replacements are near identical the old ones, leaving the place to look familiar. But not the same. It's like Deuce had woken up in a universe that differed one step to the left than his own.

He walks up to one and grazes his fingers over an area where he and someone dear had once carved their initials in. Not to break any rules, it was to show how they believed their time together would be preserved for generations to see.

That memory has been scrubbed clean. Everything and everywhere Deuce has been today no longer carries any sign he was there. Riddle had said flowers die so they can he replaced. Deuce has come to the realization that he has not been replaced but something else entirely. He has been forgotten. It is like he never existed in the first place.

"Riddle," Deuce clenches his fish, bone rubbing unpleasantly against bone, "Did you really not know who I was?"

He turns from the statue to face Riddle. "Is all that's left of me a ghost story that no one believes? Does anyone even know I who I am? That I ever was someone real? Was all I did to change worthless? Did I achieve nothing in the end?"

Deuce looks to be in pain as he talks. To a point that stirs something deep within Riddle. Anguish is a recently familiar feeling to him. While he thinks to attempt comfort like people had done to him all kind words dry up on his tongue. "It seems so."

All he can manage for Deuce is to offer him a hand to hold in comfort.

Deuce reaches for Riddle's hand, brushing his fingers against it before jolting away and running off in a random direction through the maze. He doesn't keep track of the turns he takes, focusing just on running to keep him distracted. He can hear Riddle behind him, shouting things like, "You're going to get lost!" and "Don't knock a single rose out of place with your tomfoolery!" This must be a way to show that he's at least trying to help with Deuce's misery. Hopefully.

Deuce doesn't slow down. He keeps running until he's out of the maze. Out of the maze and colliding into someone that he knocks off their feet, but thankfully catches them before they crash to the ground. It's the first person he had met. Epel Felmier, his savior. Is he here to save Deuce once again?

Deuce knows that is not possible. Deuce cannot be saved from the fact he's been scrubbed from existence. It's already too late. So he must find out what Epel is up to.

"Epel, it's you. What are you doing here?" He says.

[saltyvsparrow]

My thoughts while watching the movie M3gan

This is not a review, nor is it a plot synopsis, although it will give away parts of the plot. So if you are worried about spoilers, maybe don't read this before watching this movie. Think of it more as a text version of Mystery Science Theater.

The perpetual pets took furby and made it more terrifying. It's angry little fists and horrifying mouth and teeth. The app that lets you feed it virtual food until the toy shits kibble, WTF? Do they reuse the poop? Are the parents forced to purchase a poop subscription? Is it edible? Can you put whatever you want in there for it to poop out?

Does any toy company actually have kids play testing toys? Has that ever been a real thing? Oh no, she forget to implement the parental controls. Clearly if they only needed to be implemented, she had designed and coded them, so why weren't they implemented? 2nd primary owner still means second, and how does this resolve the problem of there being no parental controls? Pressuring children into giving demonstrations, real good role modeling. M3gan's fingers remind me of the hot dog fingers from Everything Everywhere All at Once. At least Gemma is getting some recognition most women in the work place don't. But why is Legal negotiating her contract? Oooh now we get attachment theory and being role models! I bet M3gan will let her eat whatever she wants. But what happens when Katy develops adult diabetes? What about that M3gan? Katy's social skills are going to be using M3gan to dominate the other children. M3gan's got poltergeist tech? New trick, using GPS to convince adults that they don't need to worry about where you are because they will be able to use it to find you. I suspect that Holly adopted Brandon, or he is a step child. Holly has some sort of denial going on. Will Brandon be the first to die? I think yes. M3gan is going to MAKE Brandon cry, and maybe die? "She's paired with me. She won't play with anyone else" is very creepy sounding. How many kids are enrolled at this special outdoors school? That is a lot of stuffed animals around that tree. Is Brandon going to try and rape M3gan? The first thing he does is start talking off her clothes. This just goes back to my thoughts at the beginning, when I wondered if they would decide to make boy robots too, or just give the boys the girl robots? Then what is going to happen to those kids when they go through puberty? What will happen to the robots? So I guess the police are going to assume the missing part of Brandon's ear is from the car running over him? Is Katy afraid of M3gan now? Or does she know M3gan will be key to Katy's dominance over others in the future. Oh. M3gan killed the dog and has already learned she needs to be careful when disposing of bodies. She didn't need to push Brandon, Katy. Bwahahaha was this movie inspired by the La Roux song? Please tell me we get to hear that song in it's full techno glory later in this movie. M3gan is faking the dog noises isn't she? Or did she just record the dog while she killed him?

[angelsandtrumpets]

Leeches Love Me

Show me your warm eyes, how they watch the pulse jump in my neck. I want to see them, to know that though your instincts urge you to kill, you will not leave me bleeding and dying on my own; know that you will not stoop to put the prey out of its misery.

Show me your gentle teeth, poised to bite and glistening for blood. Show me my trust isn't for nothing. If you leave me barren and emaciated, stumbling through a forest that aches to digest my fragile body, I'll be no better than a sick fawn, destined to be consumed.

Show me your soft claws ready to cut me into pieces. Let me hold them in my hands so I know you can resist the impulse to pierce my palms like nails to the cross. I trust you won't leave me slumped in a tree and left like forgotten prey, because only death and disease could make a doe wish to see the forest from the highest branches.

You make me decompose, and the rot comes on so slowly that I don't notice my skin changing colors, don't feel the bugs burrowing under my skin until my body is one cancerous growth. Your virus is stealthy; it doesn't show me that I'm missing parts of myself inside and out until it's too late, screaming at trees and cursing anything that dares to get too close to me. I feel you and God or maybe the devil in the way the rain gently washes my sensibilities down into the shallow roots of the moss.

You saw me, but you also saw how to manipulate me. Everyone knows it's hard to understand tone over text. You know what I meant but you purposely took it the wrong way to make me trip over myself trying to clarify what should have been perfectly clear. You suggested that I should "use emojis so I can better understand what you mean" so I changed how I typed just to satisfy your need to make me feel small. And even when we spoke face-to-face, you often said I misspoke and made me think that there was something wrong with me, that I couldn't communicate clearly with other people. But really, you saw my frustration and you loved poking the bear.

You and her enabled each other's jealousy and allowed each other to control not only the other but also everyone around you. There were so many insane ultimatums that made just enough sense not to question, like not allowing me to sit on her bed or not allowing you to wear my flannel because it would send "mixed signals" to a person who has no romantic or sexual attraction to anyone and had only ever viewed you as a close friend. She yelled and made you cry over a situation that didn't even exist, and somehow all of this made sense.

I once wrote a poem inspired by your relationship. I said that your love was destined to be, that you were tied together by the red string of fate. But after everything you put me through, fuck your red string. I hope it burns.

At the end, you didn't hold back. It started with your comment that me saying "I haven't seen you in a while" made you feel bad. Well, it should, because I hadn't seen you without your hanger-on, package deal of a girlfriend since the last week of June; it was now the beginning of September, so it's safe to say I was pretty irritated about that. I tried to explain that although texting all the time was fine, I thought that a friendship should involve regularly hanging out together in person and insinuated that we should hang out sometime soon - alone. I know, crazy, right? But no, asking for the bare minimum was just too much, so you twisted my words, accusing me of ignoring and invading your time together as a couple and suggesting that because I valued in-person relationships more, I must not see you as a friend whenever we weren't hanging out. I wanted to laugh in your face and say, "you don't disappear from my brain when you leave my field of view," but I kept it to myself and tried my best to work my way out of the trap you were pushing me into. Spoiler alert: it didn't work. By the end of the escalating virtual confrontation where you dropped the fake-nice bullshit and became your true, cruel self, you left me nauseous and crying on a bench. I've never had such violent full-body shakes as I had when you were breaking me down. I cried on the phone to my mom like a little kid.

The next day was when it all went to hell, though. You texted, asking to meet up as a group to discuss boundaries, relationships, whatever; I don't even remember half of the bullshit you were spouting then. I stood my ground, asserting that I was busy that night and couldn't meet up. But you ignored me, complaining about how you were trying "so hard" not to lose me, how you had to convince your puppet of a girlfriend to stay in the friend group because of how complicated my boundaries were making everything, regardless of the fact that you had been using ultimatums - never to be ignored or overstepped, or else - for months. The more you berated me, the more I stood my ground. I told you good night, but you kept texting. Clearly your desperation grew, because you moved from hounding me privately to badgering everyone in the group chat. Suddenly you weren't requesting to meet as a group; now it was another ultimatum: we can hang out with each other if we're not busy, but no talking about anything that had happened in the last two days. You said take it or leave it, so I fucking left it. I was respectful even to the very end, politely outlining why everything you said was complete horse shit and I was done. Then you left the group chat, and that was that. September tenth was the last day I could ever call you my friend, although you were actually my tormentor. That fucking date will forever be branded into my memory. I wonder if you can even recall it. I tried so hard to make things work, changed who I was to suit you, but it still wasn't enough.

I thought you were my best friend. I called you that to your face many times, but I can't recall a time where you ever called me yours. I have my own issues with abandonment, and I worried - and still do to this day - about being left behind because of my identity. But you left me behind simply because you knew that it would break me. You grew bored of me, your sadistic joy at watching me suffer had been used up, so you discarded me without blinking an eye.

I tried to make peace with it all, but even then it wasn't over, because you saw that I couldn't let you go. Tumblr was my safe space, but even now it makes my heart jump to look at my activity page. As soon as you realized I was watching, you cooked up a plan that would play me like a fiddle right back into your arms: reblogging posts that were clearly about us, writing letters in the tags and then original posts aimed directly at me, primed to muddle my sanity just enough to crawl back into the earthly hell you plotted for me.

I watched as your posts and letters in the tags made me hurt and question myself. Because of you, I lived my life in hundreds of hypothetical scenarios where I might have been able to make things work if I tried hard enough, maladaptive daydreams that kept my heart racing and my hands shaking, looking around every corner each time I stepped past the threshold of my room. I even went upstairs and stood outside your door at three in the morning, hoping somehow you'd know I was there and you'd come give me the heartfelt apology I wanted so I could forgive you enough to try again.

But eventually I realized that I was doing exactly what you wanted me to do, so I sat down and wrote you a letter, posted to where I knew you'd see it, to show you the hurt you caused and tell you good-fucking-bye.

And then it was my turn to leave you behind.

[styloplumes]

White Christmas ☆ Various! Christmas special

Notes: Various characters, general character oneshot, Christmas special, no spoilers

It was Christmas Day and the friend group were going to spend it together at the house of Sunny and Mari. Outside of their house were two very familiar snowmen that took the appearance of the two siblings. Inside was a Christmas tree nicely decorated and filled with presents waiting to be opened.

Eventually, all the friends ended up coming around the same time so there was no need to wait. "I CAN'T WAIT! When do we get to open presents!?" Kel exclaimed, clearly excited. "I know you're all excited but let's be patient shall we." Mari got up and went to the kitchen while the rest of the friends were eager to what was awaiting for the rest of the day.

While the friends chatted about the fun holiday, Mari came back with a tray holding hot cocoa and cookies. Just enough for everybody to enjoy. She placed them on the table and everyone hastily raced to grab a mug and cookie before they had the chance to disappear.

Although none of them were talking it was clear that they were already enjoying the beginning of the holiday. Kel finished his cookie quite quickly, he then proceeded to drink his hot chocolate rapidly until he finally finished. "Wow Mari, that was delicious! Now when do we get to open presents?"

"Is that seriously all you can think about? C'mon it's Christmas, Christmas is about us all spending time together. Not just the presents." Aubrey spoke her mind once again, always finding something to lecture Kel about.

"Now, now. It's understandable that Kel is excited but you do make a great point as well. Why not instead of arguing we all just enjoy this peaceful moment we all get to have together." Kel sighed upon hearing this.

"Okay fine. I won't open any but I’ll go ahead and see which presents are mine." He then went to the Christmas tree that was filled with presents beneath it. Might as well get a head start since there's so many. The friends sighed but shrugged it off since in reality it was just Kel being Kel.

Everyone finished the snacks and that is when Mari announced that they may as well open presents. They all looked over at the tree only to see six piles of presents neatly organized. "Y'know, while I was scavenging for my presents I decided why not put everyone else's in piles. After all, that just means I get to open mine quicker anyways."

Hero smiled. "How nice of you Kel. And you are right, that does make opening gifts a lot quicker doesn't it?" "Well then what are we waiting for!?" Kel and Hero then proceeded to hand out the small piles of gifts to their designated owners.

"All these gifts, for me?" Basil asked shyly. "Aw man. Basil gets more gifts then me. Oh well, nothin’ I can do about it." "Don't say things like that Kel! You already got plenty of presents." Hero had to lecture his brother once again like always.

While the others were busy with the antics of Kel, Mari was giving Sunny a very special present in particular. "Dear little brother. I have a very special gift just for you." Sunny stared in awe as Mari brought out a big neatly wrapped present.

When she handed it to him, he spent no time taking the wrapping paper off. After all the colorful paper was gone, there was a black case. Inside the case was a brand new violin just for Sunny. "I have to take a picture of this exciting moment!"

All of a sudden, there was a flash of a camera. Basil had taken a photo of his best friend Sunny trying out his new violin. "Oh, Basil! Is that your new camera? It looks nice." "OOOH BASIL! CAN YOU TAKE A PICTURE OF ME?" "Maybe some other time Kel, sorry I'm still getting the works of this thing."

"Hey look Mari! Now I can help you with baking cookies!" Hero said while marveling over his new cooking supplies. "I'm not so sure those can help with baking but you can help me anytime!" All the friends beamed with excitement, pleased with their new gifts.

Especially Kel. He was flexing the new basketball that he had just gotten. "Sure all your presents are cool and all but it's nothing compared to this beautiful basketball I'm currently holding." "Yeah, well you can't even use your basketball right now. There's snow everywhere!"

"That's true. If you're planning on using your basketball outside, well it's not really possible." Kel sighed in defeat. "Well if I can't use my basketball outside because of the snow. Can we go out and use the snow to our advantage? Y'know, doing regular snow activities."

Mari clasped her hands and smiled. "That's a great idea! Why don't we all go outside for a bit and have fun." All the friends seemed to like the idea and quickly went to get their snow gear on and ready. Kel was already out the door before anyone, wanting to get a head start.

Finally, everybody went outside to have fun in the snow. But to their surprise, they saw Kel making a snowman that was identical to him right by the Sunny and Mari snowmen. Then Aubrey rushed over to make one as well before Kel used up all the snow.

Then the rest of the group followed, wanting to be apart of this snowmen friend group. When the snowmen were all done and finished everyone stepped back to admire their work. Everything was fine, just the friend group looking at the hard work they had done.

Until Kel hit Aubrey with a snowball. "HEY! What was that for!? Don't think I'm not going to get you back!" Kel started laughing, although the laughter stopped when he got hit by two snowballs. Thrown by two different people. The first one was thrown by Aubrey of course but the second one was thrown by Sunny.

"HEY THAT'S NOT FAIR! I'M OUTNUMBERED!" Kel made a snowball and was going to throw it at Sunny but Sunny hid behind Mari so she was hit instead. Mari didn't seem to mind all that much but that thought was discarded after Hero yelled out the battle phrase.

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!"

It was then that the snowball fight became serious. Everybody quickly spread out and started gathering ammo for the awaited snow war. Soon enough, snowballs started flying everywhere, hitting anything and everything that was in their way. Mari and Hero even ended up teaming up against others. This caused Sunny and Basil to form a team. The only two who weren't in a team were Kel and Aubrey.

"I'd rather go solo than to team up with him!" Aubrey initially refused to team up with Kel and fight by herself but she rethought that decision once she was overwhelmed with snowballs coming from everybody else.

Kel's situation wasn't any better. It felt more like everyone else against Aubrey and Kel. When the two teams started reloading on their snowballs, Kel took this opportunity to try and make an alliance with Aubrey.

"Hey Aubrey. Since we're in a pickle here how about we team up and win this snowball fight!" Aubrey didn't really have an option since she was sick of being pelted with snowballs. "Alright fine! But just this once." Now that Aubrey and Kel were a team, it was all three teams against each other.

Aubrey and Kel began by making as many snowballs as they could while hiding behind the snowmen for protection. Sure some snowballs were thrown at them but it was mostly the two other teams up against each other. After a bit, when the other two teams ran out of snowballs is when Aubrey and Kel set their plan into motion.

They already had an entire stock of snowballs ready so there would be no need to stop and restock. The two threw as many snowballs as they could at the two teams. They couldn't fight  back as they had no snowballs. All they could do was try and block them but it wasn't doing much.

By the time they were finally done with all the snowballs everyone was exhausted. Basil laid down in the snow and spread his arms and legs out. Not long after everyone else followed and then started to make snow angels.

There was a comfortable silence between all the friends. Mari then spoke up.

"I'm so glad we all get to spend Christmas like this together. Especially on this beautiful white Christmas."

MY TIME (Omori masterlist)

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[ambiguouspuzuma]

Collateral damage

It was all assured, Gagne had told him. They would meet in a public place, a burger joint, to avoid any risk of violence. It would be perfectly safe. He had even agreed to attend the meeting himself, as mediator, having set the whole thing up. In his view, a successful deal was in everybody's interest - they just needed to hash out the details over a handful of fries.

At first, it seemed to go that way. The client, who had given his name as Castelli, had seemed reticent to speak about his own background, but perfectly forthcoming when it came to the job. Rahim appreciated that. He had to know exactly what he was getting into, and too many people tried to hire him without giving him the whole story, or perhaps not knowing it themselves.

"So, can you do it?" Gagne turned to Rahim, once he'd asked enough questions of his own. Castelli had been able to give a full answer to each, which was comforting, although a little unnerving. The guy knew more than anyone he'd worked with before. Perhaps too much.

"Sure," Rahim replied, finishing his soda with a satisfying slurp. "I could, if I wanted to. But I don't like working with people I don't know - no offence, of course. But how can I trust he won't screw me over once the job is done?"

Castelli seemed to have been anticipating this question as well, and slid a brown parcel across the table. Rahim prised it from the sticky surface, where the packaging paper was already starting to cling, and began unwrapping its contents - until he caught sight of the gun. It was in a plastic wallet, and also the subject of a set of digital photographs beside it. The showed Castelli holding the weapon, and shooting a young man dead.

"For your security," he said.

"If you go down, he goes down," Gagne explained. "I can keep this somewhere safe, and you can hand it to the police if he ever double-crosses you - not that he would, but just for your peace of mind. Mutually assured destruction, you see? Or, as a bank would call it: collateral."

-

"It was all a lie," Rahim told Gagne, having arranged to meet him three days hence. They were sitting in a park, watching the rats and squirrels forage for food beneath a broad elm tree, and wondering if the two rodents were so different after all.

"What?"

"He's an actor."

"What?" Gagne repeated the question, this time hoping for a more complete answer.

"The guy in the pictures. The one Castelli shot."

"So what?" He was relaxed, as always. Rahim had worked with him on many jobs, and he never seemed to break a sweat, no matter what the stakes. The man seemed to soak up stress like a sponge, or one of those ultra-absorbent brands of kitchen towel. It was one of the most infuriating things about him. "Maybe he didn't like his interpretation of Hamlet."

"No, I mean that he didn't really die. I just saw him in a production of Chicago. It was staged."

"The production, or the murder?"

"The murder. Both. They must have faked the whole thing, with whatever they use for fake blood - dyed corn syrup?"

"Tomato ketchup, for all I know," Gagne replied, still seemingly unperturbed. "But why?"

"It can only mean he does mean to screw me. He'll send me down, and then when we release these photographs, the actor will just turn up and confirm that was for a screen test they did, maybe even accuse me or stealing them. I can't wait for that to happen. I'm going to have to screw him first."

"With what?" he asked. "If the kompromat is fake, what have you got left over him?"

"With a screwdriver, of course." Rahim withdrew the plastic bag from his coat pocket. "I'm pretty sure this isn't a prop. Castelli may not have used it, but I still can."

"Steady," Gagne counselled him. "We were seen together. You, me, and him. That was why we met in public. If you go after him, it could be traced back to you. It could bring this whole thing down."

"Not Castelli. I'll do the actor, now I know where to find him."

"But why? You're assuming he's complicit, but I doubt he even knows about this scheme, or anything about us. Castelli probably hired him for a fake role. He's a civilian."

"No, this isn't revenge." Rahim studied the photo. "This is the scheme, now. I'm going to recreate these wounds, for real this time. Then, when they find the body, I'll have the evidence condemning Castelli. The collateral will work as promised."

"You'd kill an innocent man for this?"

"Castelli signed his death warrant," Rahim replied. "Call that collateral damage."

-

"It was all a trap?"

"That's right," Gagne told him, expressing sympathy through the glass. "They'd installed cameras around the actor's house, as if they knew you'd do this, or wanted a back-up just in case. The prosecutor is going to have an easy case, between those pictures and the fingerprints."

"I wore gloves," Rahim said, then remembered where they were. Did the cops bug the holding cells? "I mean, if I was there, I wouldn't have been so stupid."

"Not on the gun. On the soda cup."

"From the burger joint," he realised, sitting back. "He was lying to us the entire time. Do you think he even wanted this job done, or was I always the target here?"

"He said the gun was for your security," Gagne noted. "Perhaps this is what he meant. He must have known you had tickets for Chicago that week. It's a strange coincidence, otherwise, no? That he shows you the pictures a couple of days before you're due to see the subject? That he chooses that actor to hire?"

"Right." Rahim couldn't help but agree. From the first mention to Castelli's name, he had been a fly caught in a web, and every effort to escape had only trapped him even more. "The kompromat worked exactly as he'd planned. They just hadn't taken the real pictures yet."

[donnabroadway]

Skin folk and not kin folk

I ask my millennial, Gen X, and Gen Z brethren that as we moved up in the world, get educated, get better jobs, make more money, have more access, and are able to move our kids into wealthier neighborhoods and private schools, make sure your black kids know black people other than you and their siblings. There are too many black kids online crying about how they've been rejected by the black community because they speak well, they have money, they like rap music, they care about their grades, are light skinned, have "good hair," ethnically ambiguous features, etc. And while colorism, texturism, and classism are big problems in the black community, black people don't really have the space to reject "our own." Although mulattos, and the upper and middle class have always existed with some proximity to whiteness, the law literally stated that children took on the status of their mothers, meaning it was expected and unofficially accepted, that slave masters would be procreating with their slaves and those slaves would become slave and would be counted as black at worst, at best, mulatto and acknowledged by their white fathers and given some privileges, educational opportunities, access to land and money, a skill that will allow them to make money and become the upper and middle class or their freedom. There is a reason why many of the "firsts" were by men and women who could pass for white or Italian. The proximity to whiteness, when acknowledged, allowed them opportunities to advance but don't get it twisted, they may not be able to tell with the naked eye but once they knew, you became another, you know what. Biracials, of all mixes, didn't have the right to claim their whiteness or more than once race, and it was usually the phenotype or colored one, until the 2000 census. It wasn't until white women starting having, and raising, babies of color in the 80s and 90s that biracial people gained some sort of proximity to whiteness.

The problem is we have these phenotypically black children being raised in environments where they are often the only person of color. Not only that, they are often raised in families where they, their father, and siblings are the only people of color their mother and their family has interacted with and there is a lot of internalized racism and prejudice and when the family is called out on it, they often justify it with a whataboutism of "blacks are racist too," "look at the jokes they tell about us," "it's true, look at statistics," or "do you think they want us over there?" And this becomes a shadow belief that blacks are just as racist and unaccepting of whites, so when the child decides they want a closer connection to the black community and they enter into black spaces with their internalized racism and the black community responds by either distancing themselves, trying to educate and correct a lifetime of ignorance and self hatred, or by becoming vocal opponents of what is being said, they feel rejected and start the "biracial people don't fit in either side or they have to choose" and I am not biracial and I don't have biracial children but my interpretation of this is "Society is telling me to choose black but I want to choose white, so I will blame black people because of white supremacy."

I am a suburban Baltimore black girl. What does that mean? It means I live on tree lined streets with half million dollar homes, luxury cars, career minded people, and not a white person in sight. This means I attended schools and interacted with majority of black people and I can tell you there is plenty of diversity in thought. Being a black republican won't get you exiled nor will speaking well, liking alternative music, or being educated but being intraracist and buying into the conservative talking points will. You can't make a living by being spewing racist talking points, saying that racism from whites to blacks hasn't existed since the 60s, there are no systematic issues holding people of color back and then dog whistle us when you're inconvenienced, reminding us that you're a black woman. Like we told the Asians, Hispanics, and white women who voted to Trump, get somebody else to do it.