#enterprise DAM

[neilsblog]

Why Businesses Need DAM Software for Scalable and Secure Asset Management?

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

Preview: The party is dreadfully boring. Bruce is desperate to leave, until a certain family arrives, that is. Only chaos ensues, trouble in the shadow of the family. Not to mention, an odd girl has captured the attention of Bruce and the others.

Word Count: 4.4K

Pov: Bruce Wayne

Chapter One:

The party was boring at best. All these events are the same with smiles so shallow that these people make a puddle seem like an ocean. 

Bringing a glass of ginger ale to my lips, everything Tim was saying to me was completely going over my head. There was a dull throb in my temples and the room was just a bit too warm, shoes too tight, people too chatty, drink not enough, and I felt like I was a second away from snapping. 

Tim continued to ramble despite it all. “These upgrades will help the Robin suit become more durable. Why does Batman get bullet proof crap and the Robin suit has the safety of a stripper's outfit?”

“Have Dick look into it.” With one swing, I downed the rest of the drink. 

We were going unbothered by some miracle. For now at least. Usually, people would try to strike something up with me by now, useless deals for me that would only benefit the other guy. Wayne Enterprises is both a blessing and a curse.

Instead of being here, I could be out patrolling, put on the suit and be the symbol this city desperately needs. Not only the city. I need Batman. Without—I'm just a billionaire playboy. No different than the other sleazebags here. 

A whole lot of assholes is what they are. 

My eyes skim the crowd. Speaking of Dick. He has two women chatting him up, their revealing black dresses making me roll my eyes. He talks animatedly, that familiar smile is on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. Then there's Jason behind him, not even sparing the woman a glance as his grey eyes glared at the tie he was tugging at.

The women of the family were missing at the event, along with Damian (who was too young and—who would frankly—pick a fight with anyone who looked at him a certain way). Stephanie and Cassandra opting for a girls' night. Originall,y I planned to come here with them. When I found out they wouldn't be coming, I dragged the boys along with me. 

Like I’d suffer in this hell alone. 

Tim suddenly went quiet and my gaze traveled back to him. 

He asked, “you're not listening to me, are you?”

“You’ll keep talking regardless.”

“Fair point.” And then he went on and on about details I wasn't in any mood to discuss. His innovativeness was a gift, but at the moment, I wished I hadn't brought him along.

A sudden buzz entered the air only seconds later. Searching for the source, I came up empty handed. My brows creased together and I grabbed another flute off a passing by waiter's tray, placing the empty one down. Tim was no different from me, I could tell from the look on his face he was alert. 

Force of habit. 

With our gigs though, it was a given to be aware of your surroundings. 

“They're coming . . . you see them outside don't you?” a woman whispered too loudly. 

A man muttered, “it's been months since they’ve been to an event.”

“Do you think the son will marry my daughter?”

“Bizarre lifestyle, couldn't be mine even if I tried . . .”

Then there was a baby crying. Who the hell brings their kids to this kind of event? 

Coming back into focus, I saw a confused Tim, you could all but see the gears turning in his head. Ever the detective, it didn't take long for him to figure it out. Under his breath he said, “ the MorningStar’s-”

The main doors opened and it was like floodgates to a dam were opened instead. Are these people that significant? The name MorningStar was only a blimp on my radar. They were up and coming years back, making splashes but not anything to do with me—so I disregarded them. Apparently, not many did the same. 

The family of five were surrounded by journalists and cameras before they could get through the doors. 

This time, I sought out Tim. “What do they do?”

Tim crossed his arms, smirk corked. “Do I look like google?”

“Tim.”

“Right.” He sighed, eyes unable to move from the people of the hour. “Oscar MorningStar was a pretty average guy in his early years. Nothing special about him as a dock worker. But then he came up with this ingenious design. Simple yet complex, honestly, I would kill to-”

“Don't even think about it,” I gave him a look. “Not now at least.”

“I like his designs! I’ve incorporated some of the mechanics into the batcave you know? It's just—it's not something you or I would think of—it almost like his work is intimate. His designs are so precise, I envy it.”

That got a snort out of me. He cleared his throat, put up a bravado. 

“Anyhow, that's his wife, Willow. Then he’s got three kids. Oldest to youngest, there's Pacifica, Prince, and Penelope, I believe.”

Out of the corners of my eyes I noticed Dick’s attention in the same place as ours. The two women were pouting, huffy about the attention being stripped from them. 

“Why do they catch so much attention?” I asked myself more than him. 

It was as if the rest of us were pests attracted to their honey. 

“Likely because they're just not . . . one of the rich. There's still a shine in their eyes, a lack of greed in their outlook. You can practically see that in Oscar's way of doing business.” For the first time in a long time, Tim Drake was lost for words. “You won't find anyone else like that in this room. Some hate that, are confused by it, or fascinated.” He looked at his father and narrowed his eyes. “I'm assuming you're the last one on that list.”

There was truth to his words. 

I found myself just as captivated by them, no different from the other pests. 

It wasn't like a group of common citizens walked into a room they weren't meant to be in. It was something different than that, far more different. Though they didn't exactly act like the other rich patrons either.

They looked at each other with sincerity, care. Tightly bunched together, finding comfort in each other's presence—so despite all the cameras in front of them—you would’ve thought they were in their home with how untense their shoulders were. Yet, with each camera shudder, there was a small tightening of brows here and a smile becoming falterier there. Oscar was protective of his family, my eyes landing on his hand wrapped around his wife's waist. Simply another show of their care. And in the center, who they were encompassing, was Penelope (or so I guess, as the youngest, it would make sense for her to be surrounded by the barrier of her family, protected from the circling vultures).

Penelope, she was an older teenger by the looks of it. She was the most uncomfortable, first to have her smile crack. She said something to her father that got the group to laugh. Without another moment passing, they broke free from the vultures and found a table for five. 

Dick came walking over to us, Jason in tow. There was a stupid lost look on the eldest's face. 

“The ‘MorningStars?’ Why is this the first time I'm hearing of them?”

Tim didn't miss a chance to mock his older brother. “What are you doing over here in the slums? I thought you were talking to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

He sent a glare Tim’s way. “Can it.” He looked to me. “Are they news to you?”

“Not necessarily.” I rubbed the scruff of my jaw, my eyes darting between Dick and the family. “They're rich, major players, just not in our industry. They don't make themselves known. I know of them, always have since Osacar made his big break. But they're  . . .”

“On the lowkey,” Dick finished. 

Jason narrowed his eyes. “They must be up to something.”

The three of us said in the same moment, with conviction, “no.”

They weren't suspicious, per se. They were just set apart—different. As if that fact hadn’t been emphasized thirty times in one night. I sighed and resisted looking back to them one last time. Suddenly, all thought of being Batman and wanting to leave were the farthest thing from my mind. Penelope’s tense face flashed behind my eyes. 

“You should go talk with them,” Dick told Tim with a sly smile. 

“What!? Why me?”

“Well, our options are between sir broods a lot over here.” Dick pointed his thumb in the direction of Jason. “Then there's B, who would probably scare them, since they look like such laid-back people.”

Tim raised a brow. “And you?”

“Well if it all goes to shit, I don't want it to be on me. At least then I can sweep in and clean up the pieces, giving me a perfect opening to talk with ‘em.”

Jason, meanwhile, was nowhere near on board with this scheme. I couldn't say I was all that agreeing either. “Why should we associate with them?”

My voice is gruff, “I agree.”

“Sure, they're sparkly and new, but it's not like we need any more attention. Even if you just want to make friends, we all know how loaded that is. Nothing good could come out of being in close relations with us.” There was more left unsaid, but his message was clear enough. 

Time frowned and looked at me. 

I was already shaking my head, eyeing the flute in my hand with still amber liquid. Taking a sip I didn't bother looking up. “Don't look at me. I agree with Jason.”

That snapped heads his way. 

A muscle in my jaw clenched. “I don't want to hear it. They're already different as it is among the rich; we’re set apart in our own way as well. Let's keep it that way. Besides, how interesting can they be? We have enough on our plates. We have no reason to associate with the MorningStar's-”

“That can be changed,” a charming voice said. 

Lost in their own bubble, they never realized the quiet presence of Oscar approaching. 

Four pairs of eyes blink at him, dumbfounded. The man's smile was genuine. Dick was the first to return it, extending his hand. 

Oscar shook his hand, a small scrunch in his brows. “Dick Grayson, right?”

“Right.”

At the affirmation, a fuller smile spread across Oscar's face. “Well, I’m Oscar MorningStar. It's nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Oscar.” Dick’s head lolled to the side, looking at me with a look that screamed ‘see? We can make nice.’

Tim piped up. “It's good to see you here, Mr. MorningStar.” There was an unmissable look of rare admiration in his gaze. 

That got a laugh from the older man. “Call me Oscar, you're making me feel old.” His eyes drifted to me but went back to my son slowly. “Honestly it's a miracle me and my family are here.”

“Yes, you rarely attend gatherings. Why is that?”

Oscar shrugged. “It's not really our thing.”

“But something here is your thing,” I said, “or else you wouldn't be here.”

“Guilty,” the grin on him goes bashful. 

Curious.

He’s rich, not as rich as me, but his company is making millions and his stocks are only on the rise. How does a man do that with a personality like that? He's not nervous, but not exactly the definition of confidence. The air surrounding him isn't exactly threatening either.

“In all honesty,” his hand rubbed the back of his neck, eyes unmistakably meeting mine. “I'm here because I wanted to talk business with you.” 

He's firm. To the point. Maybe that's what makes his methods effective?

Regardless, the request got a shit eating grin on Tim’s face. He took the stage. “You know, if Bruce doesn't want to work with you, I’d be more than happy to. I’d love to get my hands on-”

“Tim,” I said. 

The boy pursed his lips and turned away with a frown. 

“While I appreciate the offer, Mr. MorningStar, I don't believe our business would clash well.” A false smile pulled at my lips.

Oscar countered. “You do plenty of work in biotech and tech in general, manufacturing, shipping; I’m not such a fool as to approach a man for business without doing my reading on him.” He stood tall with his shoulders back, but there wasn't anything looming about him. “My tech will help yours. Improve upon the foundation you have already set. This way, people in Gotham will be working with a more efficient system. I won't get into the details now, but the effects of what I plan to accomplish with you will help your average worker. 

“We can put less strain on the people who are responsible for the clothes on our backs. Someone has to sit behind the sewing machine after all, why not give that person a little help? In the ways we can, at least.” 

Tim got one thing right. There was a lack of greed in him. His words were disgustingly genuine.

“Those are some high expectations. How can I be sure that your supposed plan will meet them?” Behind the mask, I was still a businessman. 

I could all but feel Tim and Dick glaring at me for trying to deter the man. They’ve made their cards clear; they wanted to see what this man was about. And here I was shutting him down so quickly. Jason was nodding approvingly. What none of us expected was the youngest MorningStar to take to the stage and tap a finger on the microphone. 

“Hello? Hear me? Check one, two, three?” Her voice has a bit of an edge to it, not what I expected from her appearance. 

The boys catch sight of Penelope on the stage and Tim's mouth falls open. An amused expression crossed Dick’s face while one akin to annoyance passed Jason’s. 

They're so distracted that they don't notice Oscar's soft groan. He rubbed a hand down his face, “idiot,” he grumbled behind his hand. 

A soft hum left me, I bought the flute to my lips. Based on his unreactive response, this wasn't all that new of a thing. 

Interesting. Just who are you, Penelope?

The most pressing thought on my mind was something along the lines of thinking her a fool. She would no doubt embarrass her father and make a scene. Here I was brushing her off as a reckless teenager, because clearly she fits the bill. So much for the MorningStar's being mysterious, their only human.

“So,” she said into the mic. “I want to make a small announcement, courtesy of my sister.” She effectively had the room's attention. A smirk was on her face while she gestured to the right wing of the stage.

Climbing the stairs to the stage was her brother, Prince I took it, carrying who must Pacifica. The girl was squirming and struggling to get out of her brother's grip, legs kicking. Prince winced when the stiletto stabbed his thigh, though his grip was unrelenting. 

Tim laughed beside me. Oscar tensed all the more. 

Penelope went on. “This is Pacifica. She is looking for a suitor.”

Prince leaned over—holding a feral young woman—and said into the mic, “preferably between the ages of 20 to 25.”

The youngest nodded, talking to the crowd as if they were on a game show. “She’s sorta rowdy. But there's no return policy, so if she steals your heart or you hers, no backsies. And she's . . . um . . . well she will make sure you're the most stylish man around. Shit, I forgot, she's into women too!”

The male leaned back over, “she’ll make you into the most stylish woman around.”

“She's also super nice and will cook you some good meals. Keep you in tip-top shape. But she is stingy and can be an ass sometimes. Newsflash, she doesn't like lazy people.”

A whole shit show was taking place right before my eyes.

And the crowd of drunken rich men and women were eating out of this young lady's palm. They laughed and I didn't miss the looks mothers and fathers sent to their children. Backs were patted, urged forward. 

The eldest sister protested, “I do not need you jackasses to set me up!”

Prince rolled his eyes. “Trust me. You do. Nobodies touching you with a ten-foot pole with that attitude.”

“My attitude is just fine! Let go! Your dirty hands are messing up my dress!”

“Dirty!?”

As her sisters continued to bicker in the background, Penelope stepped forward and blocked them from view (not that that did much). Her little red smile twitched. “Anyhow-”

“Nell!” A whole new woman came onto the stage. Based on the semblance, I assume that's Willow, the mother of the family. “Get the hell off the stage!” There was a symphony of whoops and hollers. Some shouting they should let the girl speak. To which the mother glared at those individuals, a look that pierced their souls no doubt. “I’ll have you assholes know that it's not above me to get my hands dirty.” 

“That's my cue,” Oscar said fast. Rushing through a crowd that parted for him, all to reach his wife and children. 

Ushering them off the stage, he was able to dismantle it all effectively. With one look at Prince, he got him to put down his sister. Though it did take a few words for him to get Penelope to give him the microphone. He looked sweetly into the crowd. “Well I'm so sorry for these people.” Without another word, he took his wife's elbow and escorted his family off the stage. 

I sighed, “if only I could wrangle you guys in like that.”

“Hey, we respect your orders B.” Dick said.

“Speak for yourself.”

Jason was sour, as he had been since I forced him to come along and skip patrol. “What the hell even was that?”

“Those MorningStars really are a whole bunch of characters, huh?” Tim said with a smirk. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Look at your own family, idiot.”

Everything after that was fairly calm. Oscar didn't approach us again, likely thinking the deal was officially ruined given his family's behavior. If anything, it makes things easier. Though a part of me, a very, very small part of me, was curious to know what he was offering me. 

The night wasn't getting any younger, things truly began to get into full swing.

When I noticed how loud it was for the first time, I paused my motions. What happened to that damn headache that was haunting me? 

Weid. Likely, my body was aware that this would all be over soon. All I needed to do was stick around for half an hour more. 

The four of us now moved to the bar counter, I opted to stand while the others sat.

When the buzz about the MorningStar's died down and the drinks were passed around in full, that meant bold investors were approaching me. At least once every ten minutes. I promptly ignored Dick’s snickering as another man came my way.

He stumbled and began to blubber as soon as he was in earshot. “Mr. Wayne!” As if we were good friends. “Believe me when I say that you would be wise to invest in the future!”

The others (traitors) were ignoring him. Talking amongst themselves and leaving me to fend for myself. 

I don't even offer the man a smile. 

“Wayne, you need me and my company's goods. Without us, you'll find yourself missing something!” The only thing I felt myself missing was Oscar's approach when it came to proposals. Or literally anyone else. 

This was the sixth idiot of the night to approach me, possibly the worst one yet.

I inspected the drunken man in front of me, watching him go on and on. All the while, I haven't said a single thing. He kept going . . . on and on and on. 

My eyes droop. 

I could pretend to be in my own bubble for only so long. Truth be told, I was in a party surrounded by people who would like to leave me alone. I love this city, I wouldn't do what I do if I didn't. But social events are so much harder to bear when a point can't be found anywhere. 

How do these people do it? Live a life so lost in booze and their own spending? Compounding their money whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was so devoid of any true meaning. Meanwhile, in the alleyway of this very building, there was someone probably getting mugged. Someone was shot somewhere. A family starved. A stray cat or dog is going without a home. 

My hand twitched by my side, jaw clenched as I glowered at the man in front of me. He was gabbing about how his oil rigs were some of the best around. How he could cut Bruce some of the profits if he did this and that. 

A small crash sounded in the corner. A jolt of something goes through my body. And before looking, I already know who it is. Can all but feel it on my skin. 

I looked above the man who was still going on, seeing the three siblings once more causing a ruckus. 

The idea that this is why they never come to social events takes root in my head and an unexpected, tremendously small, smile tugged at my lips. I wouldn't take them out either. Wasn't this the exact reason I never brought along Damein? 

Pacifica was taking this time to rebel against her sister, towering over wide-eyed Penelope, who had toppled over in her chair (the reason for the crash). Prince grabbed his sister by the arms and Pacifica waved to her as Prince dragged her to the grand Piano splat in the middle of the room. 

I had a strong feeling that roughhousing was a common thing in their home. 

Curiosity took hold of me. 

These siblings seemed to always be at the damn center of attention. Eyes always on them, and it was like they didn't have to try. 

Dick swiveled in his chair, glass half brought to his lips before his eyes widened, drink suddenly forgotten he nudged Tim. Jutting his head in the direction of Penelope, both boys' eyes settled on the impatient girl. 

She was glaring at her brother, insulting him is what I guessed she was saying from the fast movements of her mouth and accusatory finger poking into his chest. But he said one thing, and that's all it took for her body to go rigid and turn tight-lipped. 

I find myself leaning closer, as if that would allow me to hear. 

Seriously? Since when-

She huffed and faced forward in the piano seat. By now, many had stopped to stare. But she didn't seem to mind it. It rolled off of her and she looked off into space for a time, chewing on her lip. 

When something came to her, she took the lid off the piano and glanced around. Waiting to see if anybody would try and stop her. All she found was curious glances and her brother holding two thumbs up. 

At last I spoke to the drunken man. “Would you mind? I'm spending time with my family.” he suddenly stopped and looked at the others and sighed, waddling off, yes, waddling. 

Spending time with my family my ass. 

But she was about to start and I was too curious to hear it that I didn't want him talking my ear off simultaneously. 

What would she play? 

I observed her posture, the way she positioned her hands and began to tap her heel. She licked her red painted lips, and closed her eyes for just the briefest of seconds. 

A little wonder is what she is. 

Her fingers took to the keys, and her movements were comparable to a professional. Fingers gliding with such a smooth touch that it made sense the sound was so breathtaking. I recognized the song as Golden Hour as she moved further along in the melody. 

The shuffling of the party halted and she became the center. The beating heart. Her lips parted, eyes lost in the playing. Her brother looked at her with pride, but I barely registered him—unwilling to look away from her. 

The song made it to the chorus. I’ve never been the biggest fan or performances, but something about the heart she put into it made me want to listen to her do a dozen more songs. An essence was put into her movements, her soul laid bare for all to witness. 

How many could do that? 

How she did it wasn't something that could be taught. 

Regardless, how she moved just showed she wasn't simply raw talent. But truly put time into being good. 

God did it show. 

I didn't want any of it to be over: her moment, the moment, the song, even the feeling of curiosity I felt in my chest. 

Up until that moment, I was lumping her and her family into one thought, the ‘MorningStars.’ But looking at her, watching her like this, I found myself wanting to make her into more in my mind. What's her favorite color? What does she like? What makes her skin crawl? Her fears? Deep-seated desires? 

She was her own person, a spectacle that I needed to know. 

Never have I seen a girl like her. So bold yet on the lowkey. She’s human, as complex as the rest of us, but watching her play made her something other. My head tilted to the side as I watched her. I wanted to know her. She’s a mystery the detective in me wants to solve. 

Who is she? What is she? 

Reckless, clearly, from that speech given. Yet she has such an amazing capacity to be graceful, her performance adding kindling to that fire. 

I looked to the others and saw they were just as taken aback by her. She was something entirely different, new to us and this world. Jason was glaring at her with begrudged admiration. Dick had a full smile on his face. Then there was Tim who was recording the whole damn thing. 

Something told me he wasn't the only one. 

Her family was definitely making it into the paper, no doubt. But something told me she, in particular, would be mentioned separately in the conversation of this extraordinarily hectic night. 

If you want to read further ^^ -> Chapter 2 of Red Lipstick

[mist1e]

SICK

𝓜𝓪𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓸 & 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Mahito doesn’t do kindness. But when he finds you sick and helpless, he decides to make an exception — in his own twisted way.

☙ 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓐𝓞3 ❧ ☙ 1900 words ❧

The troubled slumber crawled into your mind on its sticky paws, lulled you to sleep, and then jerked you awake with a treacherous poke, preventing you from truly resting. You sank deeper into the black cosmos of nothingness, only to surface again, like a buoy bobbing up and down at the whim of restless waves.

Somewhere in the depths of the flat, the front door slammed.

You opened your fever-red eyes and sat up in bed, listening intently. You heard the sound of a shoe flying off to the side, followed by a second one, which smacked against the half-closed wardrobe door.

Ah. Of course. It was him.

Mahito.

“Oh, I'm going to cheer you up real good!” A childishly joyful voice shattered the dusty silence of the slumbering flat, cutting through its stiff flesh. “I thought the hardest part would be twisting the shapes, but it turns out that inflating them is an enterprise of its own!”

His voice, sparkling with mirth, flowed like a brook, drawing closer and closer to your bedroom. Soon, Mahito's head appeared in the doorway. An impatient smile played on his slightly pinched lips, the kind of smile that barely contained laughter. His mismatched eyes twinkled with mischief as he tilted his head to the side, a stray strand of ash-blue hair falling over his face.

Eagerly, he stepped into the room. The bedroom seemed to shrink around his tall, slender figure clad in a floating black shawl.

“Ta-dam!” Mahito exclaimed, pulling the object of his pride from behind his back.

Something that resembling a poorly twisted balloon dog uncoiled like a spring in his thin, long fingers. Squinting your watery eyes, you leaned forward, taking a closer look. The ‘dog’ silently gasped for air, its empty eye sockets staring blankly into space. It fidgeted incessantly, as if trying to untie the tight knots Mahito had made. The sight was both mesmerising and utterly grotesque.

“I burst nearly twenty of them before I could reshape a human right enough to inflate it,” Mahito said, his voice tinged with unmistakable pride.

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your praise. You had known Mahito for a long time, but the contrast between his murderous cruelty and his childlike directness never ceased to amaze you.

“It looks... Interesting.”

Your throat felt as if it had been scraped with sandpaper, and you broke into a fit of dry coughing. With your back hunched, you arched forward, a hand pressed to your chest as if trying to soothe the pain tearing through your lungs.

The smile slid off Mahito's face. Displeased that his trick had failed to make the proper impression, he irritably tossed the mutilated, reshaped human-dog into the corner of the room, where it squeaked pitifully and went silent.

“What’s the matter with you?” he muttered, eyeing your twisted, shuddering figure. Mahito folded his arms across his chest. Once your coughing subsided, he added, “It’s noon already. Why are you still in bed?”

“I’m sick.”

Mahito raised one eyebrow in surprise, tilting his head curiously to the side, studying you like an odd specimen.

“Is that so? Interesting. And why would you be sick?”

Despite your miserable condition — the chills racking your body and the pain pounding in your temples — you forced out a smile at his innocent question. You looked up at him, meeting his scrutinising gaze.

“When it happens, there’s nothing you can do, Mahito. You just... get sick,” you began to explain patiently, trying not to speak too much so as not to irritate your sore throat further. “All you can do is take some pills and wait for it to go away.”

“For what to go away?”

You suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed by your weakness, by your stuffy bedroom, your unkempt hair, and the pathetic sight you made. You lowered your eyes again. The last thing you wanted was to let Mahito in on the details and become the object of his ridicule, but you knew that if you didn't give in, he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“When you’re sick, you feel incredibly weak. Every bone in your body aches as if you’re being stretched on a rack. Your throat hurts, your eyes water as if they’re filled with sand. Your head swells from the inside out, a dull pain throbbing in your temples. The simplest actions you’ve always taken for granted become a struggle.

Every word slashed painfully into your mind, lashing you like a red-hot whip, making you feel more and more wretched in your own eyes. You always felt lonely and abandoned, when you were sick. The vile feebleness of it all drenched your soul in sorrow and self-pity. Your fever-stricken brain plunged you into a state of hopeless longing that made your shoulders slump from powerlessness.

“I can’t do anything; I'm completely useless. I'm trapped in a sick body that’s rebelled against me and taken away my control. I can't even get out of bed. All I can do is lie alone in the dark, tormented by nightmares and crappy thoughts.”

You fell silent, staring at the patterns on the blanket, waiting to hear the ringing of Mahito’s mocking laughter.

Instead, you heard soft footsteps, followed by the creak of the mattress.

“You’d better stay away, I don’t want to get you sick,” you said uncertainly, instinctively backing away from Mahito as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, please. What do you take me for? Your human nonsense doesn’t affect me. Now, scoot over.”

You hesitantly moved to the side with an effort, making room for Mahito. He climbed onto the bed and sat down, his back resting against the soft headboard, still warm from the heat of your body. With a deft movement, he pulled you to him, his long fingers wrapping around your trembling shoulder. You tensed at the suddenness of his touch, icy compared to your feverish skin. You flinched, then melted against his chest with a sigh.

Silence stretched between you two, growing more and more comfortable with each passing moment. The room around you seemed to recover from Mahito’s sudden intrusion and slipped back into its oblivious slumber. It was so quiet that you could almost hear the rustle of dust motes swirling in the sunlight filtering through the curtains. The measured rise and fall of Mahito’s chest slowed your heartbeat, making it match his deep, steady breathing.

You wanted to ask, wanted to know, wanted to understand. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. More than anything, you were afraid of ruining this fragile, elusive moment.

Feeling the anxious ripples on the surface of your soul, Mahito hummed softly and spoke up.

“When I transfigure a human being, they go through immense agony,” his quiet, purring voice crept through the still twilight. “But one thing is constant. I stay with them until the very end. Our souls touch for a moment, and I feel the echo of their harrowed being. The anger, the hatred, and the fear that spawned me return to me like a falling raindrop that dissolves on the surface of a bottomless lake. This is the price of my Cursed Technique.”

Mahito fell silent, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, mindlessly tracing invisible patterns. Suddenly, he turned his head and touched his lips to your forehead, inhaling your scent deeply. His lips lingered, leaving an icy seal on your inflamed skin. You froze, eyes wide, afraid to breathe as Mahito revelled in this moment of unexpected intimacy.

His distinctive scent — ozone with a medicinal edge, layered with burnt sugar and sweet amber — tickled your nose, seeping deeper and deeper. It was as if it were coating your insides with an indelible, cursed membrane, forever binding Mahito to your innermost being. This new sensation exploded in your chest, eclipsing the pain and fever for a moment. You hadn't realised how much you needed this small act of intimacy. Greedily, you reached for the unnatural fusion, inhaling deeply as if you could soak the poisoned drops of tenderness and affection into your very skin. The seconds stretched on unbearably, and just as you felt yourself dissolving in the intoxicating sweetness, Mahito broke the kiss and pulled back to look into your eyes. His gaze was calm and soft, but something lurked behind the warmth of his stare — something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know I will kill you in the end, don’t you, little one?” he whispered.

His whisper coiled around your heart, filling it with a weird sense of trepidation. His hand touched your cheek, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. Gentle fingers slid over your face, stroking, caressing, as if he wanted to imprint every contour and curve into his memory.

“That’s why I can afford a bit of candour,” he continued. “You know, little one, my birth was quite unpleasant and painful. Hate flowed through my swollen veins, rage roiled in my burning chest, disgust twisted my muscles into crackling knots. I have so much loathing in me that I lavish that feeling on the humans I transfigure. But they give it back to me again. Ironic, isn't it? The circle is complete — Ouroboros sinking its teeth into its own tail.”

His fingers moved lower, and his graceful hand rested on the centre of your chest, right over your fluttering heart. You continued to stare at him, unable to utter a word, completely enchanted by his hypnotising voice and the tenderness of his touch.

“Weakness, helplessness, powerlessness — I felt it too when the void spewed me into this world. That feeling still flares in my chest when I reshape human souls.” Mahito’s lips stretched into a smile that was at once affectionate and ominous. “Someday, little one, when your time comes, we’ll share it, and the drop of your soul will return home. But not today.”

Mahito closed his eyes, and you felt the space around you crackle with the energy filling it.

“Mui Tenpen.”

The words of his Cursed Technique escaped his lips, and in the same instant, your body arched up, torn by the unstoppable streams of energy bubbling through your veins like molten metal. A shriek froze in your throat, and your eyes rolled back. You thought you were about to be torn to pieces, and only Mahito’s firm, yet gentle embrace held you together. The air around you quivered, throbbed, and buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps.

It ended as abruptly as it had begun. The buzzing reached its peak and then collapsed into silence. With a swift tidal wave, the Cursed Energy drained from your body. White spots still danced before your eyes as you struggled to focus your gaze on Mahito. He slowly opened his eyes, observing you with a content smile. Your skin hummed with the ghost of his Cursed Energy, a faint echo of his power that shot through you. His hand remained on your chest, spreading warmth where it rested — a lingering connection, a shared secret. The weakness and malaise were gone. The searing pain clawing at your windpipe had dissolved. You involuntarily put a hand to your chest, where a lump of sticky heaviness had vanished.

You were perfectly healthy.

“Mahito... You…”

“Yes, yes,” he waved it away impatiently. His seriousness vanished without a trace, replaced by the usual carefree and childish grin. “Don’t get all mushy. And don’t take this as some sort of kindness. I just need a playmate.” His smile tightened briefly, and his eyes flashed to the side before returning back to you.

He moved away, putting distance between you, but there was a sense of reluctance in his hand, that lingered on your shoulder for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

Or did you imagine it?

“Get out of bed and get dressed. I need you to help me figure out how to twist a rabbit.”

[randomasfuk]

Hi, I just saw your post criticizing people calling Dick “a whore,” and I agree with it all; expect “Tim and Bruce are the family whores.” I just wanted to point out that I think it’s equally wrong to call Tim a whore because of the amount of times that boy has been sexually assaulted and/or harassed. If you criticize people calling Dick a whore, I personally think it’s in equal bad taste to call Tim one.

I see where you’re coming from but Tim Drake is a serial monogamist with a hole dam roster of love interests. He has had two love interests at the same time, balancing relationships both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake.

After abit of digging to refresh my memory, here’s an expanded, detailed breakdown of his confirmed romantic relationships, including what runs they were from and whether they were fully developed or just implied crushes/flings.

Tim Drake’s Canonical & Consensual Relationships (Confirmed Roster)

1. Stephanie Brown (Spoiler/Batgirl) – The OTP

• First Appearance: Detective Comics #647 (1992)

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #16–#183, Batgirl (2009), Red Robin (2009)

• Status: Longest and most iconic love interest

• Notes: This was Tim’s longest relationship, though very on-off-again. They had multiple breakups, but DC consistently revisited them. Strong emotional connection, and one of the few love interests who truly understood Tim.

2. Ariana Dzerchenko – His First Girlfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) #1

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #1–#74

• Status: Official girlfriend before Stephanie

• Notes: she was his first real gf and the relationship was actually pretty stable, they broke up bc she thought he was cheating

3. Zoanne Wilkins – High School Girlfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) #148

• Main Relationship: Robin (1993) #148–#183

• Status: Civilian love interest

• Notes: very similar to his relationship with Ariana

4. Tam Fox – Love Interest in Red Robin Era

• First Appearance: Batman: The Dark Knight #1 (2011)

• Main Relationship: Red Robin (2009) #1–#26

• Status: Strong romantic subplot

• Notes: Daughter of Lucius Fox, and Tim’s love interest while he was leading Wayne Enterprises. Very close to becoming serious, but Tim’s mission got in the way.

5. Cassie Sandsmark (Wonder Girl) – Grief-Driven Romance

• First Appearance: Wonder Woman (1996) #105

• Main Relationship: Teen Titans (2003) #92–#100

• Status: Brief, grief-fueled relationship

• Notes:

Happened after Superboy died and it was more about coping with loss than real romance. Ended quickly once they realized it was unhealthy.

6. Bernard Dowd – Current Canon Boyfriend

• First Appearance: Robin (2004) #121

• Main Relationship: Batman: Urban Legends (2021)

• Status: Tim’s first confirmed same-sex relationship

• Notes:

Bernard originally appeared in the early 2000s but was reintroduced in 2021. Their relationship officially confirmed Tim as bisexual.

Lesser-Known or Minor Romantic Connections

These relationships weren’t as major but still counted as actual romantic interests.

7. Darla Aquista – Briefly Dated, Became a Villain

• First Appearance: Robin (2004) #121

• Status: Brief romance, turned into a villain

• Notes:

She was introduced as a civilian love interest. Later became the magic-powered villain Vittoria under Penguin’s gang.

8. Dana (Last Name Unknown) – Minor Love Interest

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) (exact issue unclear)

• Status: Barely developed romance

• Notes:

She existed, but not much is known about her. Possible high school crush that went nowhere.

9. Zoe (Last Name Unknown) – Another Minor Love Interest

• First Appearance: Robin (1993) (late 90s issues)

• Status: Minor high school romance

• Notes:

Similar to Dana—barely developed and mostly forgotten.

10. Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe (Mademoiselle Marie II) – Short-Lived Romance

• First Appearance: Batgirl (2006) #53

• Status: Brief romantic interest

• Notes:

• hardly a relationship, during his Red Robin era. Nothing serious came of it.

Thares also Xin Liu but I believe that was retconned although I wouldn’t have used it anyway bc she’s a manipulative bitch wtf was that.

Also if I’m wrong about anything please let me know as much as I do read comics I don’t actually own many which makes it hard to go over what happened, I had to kinda research to refresh my memory so if I’ve got anything wrong let me know.

SIDE NOTE: really needs to stop using sexual assault in storylines it’s so unnecessary especially when it never gets mentioned again.

[queercodedangel]

"The World Bank and IMF are supposed to assist nations in their development. What actually happens is another story. The World Bank will lend money to this or that country to finance a huge dam project that displaces thousands of families while providing cheap irrigation for export agriculture and cheap power for a private company. Or a poor country may borrow from the World Bank to build up some aspect of its economy. Should it be unable to pay back the heavy interest because of declining export sales or some other reason, it most borrow again, this time from the IMF. But the IMF imposes a 'structural adjustment programme' (SAP), requiring debtor countries to grant tax breaks to the transnational corporations, reduce local wages, and make no attempt to protect native enterprises from foreign imports and foreign takeovers.

In accordance with SAP rulings, the debtor nations are pressured to privatise their economies, selling at scandalously low prices their state-owned mines, railroads, and utilities to transnational corporations. They are forced to open their forests to clear-cutting and their lands to strip mining, without regard to the ecological damage done. The debtor nations also must reduce or eliminate subsidies for health, education, transportation, and food, spending less on public needs in order to have more money to meet debt payments. So it is that throughout the Third World, real wages have declined, and national debts have soared to the point at which debt payments absorb almost all of the poorer countries' export earnings—leaving the debtor even less able to provide for the minimal needs of its population."

- Michael Parenti, The Face of Imperialism

[dailyanarchistposts]

Somewhere in the Lacandon Jungle, Chiapas: The roots of the rebel Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) have long been intertwined with the roots of what remains of the Lacandon rainforest. The Tzeltal, Tojolabal, Tzotzil and Chol indigenous farmers who now form the core of the EZLN first came to the Lacandon as part of the great stream of settlers that poured into the forest 30 years ago. According to sociologists their long struggle to remain in the region, despite the objections of environmentalists dedicated to preserving the integrity of this unique lowland tropical jungle, have shaped the demands and the militancy of the Zapatista Army. Now, as tensions between the Zapatistas and the Mexican government ratchet up, environmentalists fear renewed hostilities could do irrevocable damage to the rainforest.

When the European invaders first reached this paradisical region in 1530, they literally could not find the forest for the trees. The rainforest extended from the Yucatan peninsula southwest, blending with the Gran Petan of Guatemala at the Usumacinta river, a swatch of jungle matched in the New World only by the Amazon basin. The Lacandon region was a three million acre wilderness of pristine rivers and lakes, its canopy teeming with Quetzales and Guacamayas under which lived ocelots and jaguars, herds of wild boar and tapir, and the Indians who gave the forest its name. The first Lacandones and the Spanish interlopers fought a guerrilla war that did not end until the Indians did — by 1769, there were just five elderly Lacandoes left living outside a mission on the Guatemalan bank of the Usumacinta.

The story of the Lacandon jungle is one of massacres, both of Indians and trees, relates Jan De Vos, the San Cristobal-based historian of the Chiapas rainforest. Soon after Chiapas won its independence from Guatemala and Spain, expeditions were sent to explore the “Desert (jungle) of Ocosingo” — De Vos uses its more poetic name “the Desert of Solitude” — all the way to the juncture of its great rivers, the Jacate and the Usumacinta. Timber merchants soon learned how to move logs on the rivers, and priceless mahogany and cedar groves began to fall. By the turn of the century the jungle was seething with logging camps — monterias — in which the Mayan Indians, gangpressed in Ocosingo, were chained to their axes and hanged from the trees. The conditions in the monterias were exposed to the world in the 1920s in a series of novels by the German anarchist writer Bruno Traven.

Foreign investors bought up huge chunks of the jungle — the Marquis of Comillas, a Spanish nobleman, still lends his name to a quarter of the forest. In the 1950s, Vancouver Plywood, a U.S. wood products giant, bought up a million acres of the Lacandon through Mexican proxy companies, and made another dent in the forest. The Mexican government later cancelled all foreign concessions and installed its own logging enterprise, initialed COFALASA, which took 10,000 virgin mahogany and cedar trees out of the heart of the Lacandon every year for a decade.

The settlers began to stream into the forest in the 1950s, boosted by government decrees that deemed the Lacandon apt for colonization. Choles, pushed out of Palanque, settled on the eastern flanks of the forest. Tzotzil Mayans from the highlands, expelled from landpoor communities like San Juan Chamula under the pretext of their conversion to Protestantism, arrived in the west of the Lacandon, as did landless Tzeltales and Tojolabales, newly freed from virtual serfdom on the great fincas (haciendas) of Comitan and Las Margaritas. In 1960 the Mexican government declared the Lacandon jungle the “Southern Agrarian Frontier” and non-Mayans joined the exodus into the forest. Oaxacan Mixes displaced from their communal lands by government dams, campesinos from Veracruz uprooted by the cattle ranching industry, and landless mestizos from the central Mexican states of Guerrero and Michoacan all pushed through Ocosingo, Las Margaritas and Altamirando, on their way down to the canyons — Las Canadas — towards the heart of the forest. The land rush narrowed the dimensions of the Lacandon and upeed its population considerably. In 1960 the municipality of Ocosingo had a population of 12,000 — the 1990 census was 250,000.

The new settlers were not kind to the forest. Infused with pioneer spirit, the campesinos cut the forest without mercy to charter and extend their ejidos (rural communal production units). Other settlers were more footloose, aligned themselves with the cattle ranchers, slashed and burned their way into the Lacandon, planted a crop or two, and abandoned the land to a cattle ranching industry fueled by World Bank credits. The zone of Las Canadas, the Zapatista base area, was one of the most devastated by the logging and cattle industries.

Two government decrees sought to brake the flow into the forest but backfired badly. In 1972, President Luis Echeverria turned 645,000 hectares of the jungle over to 66 second-wave Lacandon families and ordered all non-Lacandones evicted — settler communities were leveled by the military. Seeking to crystalize communal organizations that could defend the settlers from being thrown off the land they had wrested from the jungle, San Cristobal de las Casa’s liberation Bishop Samuel Ruiz sent priests and lay workers into the region to build campesino organizations such as the Union of Unions, Union Quiptic, and the ARIC — formations from which the Zapatistas arose years later.

Then, in 1978, a new president, Jose Lopez Portillo, added to the turmoil by designating 380,00 hectares at the core of the jungle as the UNESCO-sponsored Montes Azules Biosphere Reserve, declaring that all settlers living inside its boundaries must leave. Forty ejidos, twenty-three of them in the Canadas, were threatened. A young EZLN officer, Major Sergio, remembers well the struggle of his family to stay on their land in Montes Azules: “the government would not hear our petitions. We were left with no road except to pick up the gun.”

Many Zapatista fighters — the bulk of the fighting force is between 16 and 24 years old — were born into the struggle of their parents to stay in the Lacandon in defiance of the Montes Azules eviction notice. “The first experience the young colonos of Las Canadas had with a factor external to their lives was the pressure brought by environmentalists to preserve the forest,” writes sociologist Xochitl Leyva in Ojarasca, a journal of indigenous interests.

A 1989 environmentalist-backed ban on all wood-cutting in the Lacandon also led to resistance and frequent clashes with the newly-created Chiapas forestry patrols. In one of the first EZLN actions, two soldiers, thought to have been confused with forestry patrolmen, were killed in March 1993 near a clandestine sawmill outside San Cristobal.

The EZLN uprising has highlighted the development vs. conservation controversy that has raged in the Lacandon for generations. The EZLN demand that new roads be cut into the region drew immediate objection from the prestigious Group of 100, which, under the pen of poet-ecologist Homero Aridjis, complained the new roads would mean “the death of the Lacandon.” The Zapatista demand for land distribution also worries Ignacio March, chief investigator at the Southeast Center for Study and Investigation (CEIS), who fears the jungle will be “subdivided” to accomodate the rebels.

“Ecologists? Who needs them? What we need here is land, work, housing,” Major Mario remarked to La Jornada earlier this winter, when questioned about the opposition of the environmental community to EZLN demands.

The June 10th EZLN turndown of the Mexican government’s 32-point peace proposal has heightened fears of renewed fighting, a worst-case scenario for ecologists. S. Jeffrey Wilkerson, director of the Veracruz-based Center for Cultural Ecology worries that a military invasion of the Lacandon by the Mexican Army would mean the cutting of many roads into untouched areas, the use of destructive heavy machinery, the detonation of landmines, bombings and devastating forest fires and even oil well blow-outs.

Because of national security considerations, PEMEX, the government petroleum consortium, does not disclose the number of wells it is drilling in the Lacandon — some researchers think there are at least a hundred. From the air, the roads dug between oil platforms scar the jungle floor, and painful bald patches encircle the drilling stations.

One of the Zapatistas’ most important contributions to preserving the integrity of the Lacandon was to force 1400 oil workers employed by PEMEX, U.S. Western Oil, and the French Geofisica Corporation to shut down operations and abandon their stations during the early days of the war.

Despite disputes with the environmental community, the EZLN may be one of the most ecologically-motivated armed groups ever to rise in Latin America. The Zapatista Revolutionary Agrarian Law calls for an end to “the plunder of our natural wealth” and protests “the contamination of our rivers and water sources,” supports the preservation of virgin forest zones and the reforestation of logged-out areas. The lands they demand, the rebels insist, should not be shorn from the Lacandon but rather stripped from the holdings of large landowners.

The EZLN approach to the forest in which they and their families have lived for decades draws grudging approval from some environmentalists. “Few armed groups have ever included these kinds of demands in their manifestos” comments CIES investigator Miguel Sanchez-Vazquez. Andrew Mutter of the Lacandon preservationist Na’Bolom Institute is also sympathetic to the environmental roots of the EZLN: “this revolution rose from the ashes of a dead forest...”

[elenath9]

Fandom asks! 💜

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

V - Which character do you relate to most?

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Thanks for the ask!

L - Ok, I’ll go with Travis from Enterprise (I definitely like him, he’s just not my favorite). I think he’s a really sweet character who is actually very good at diplomacy (better than a lot of the other characters, even Archer), and I think he should have been given more screen time and storylines.

O - Hm this is hard, I don’t generally relate songs with fandom things. They’re more for me, if that makes sense.

V - B’Elanna from Voyager. She and I have the same frustration energy. 😉

E - Yes, exactly one cracky thing (not sure how funny it is). This:

D - Well, it’s not that I don’t like the pairing, but I wish I was more interested in Sam/Jack (SG-1). Then again, I’m not really interested in most ships anyway, only a specific few.

[thelongestway]

Star Trek Lower Decks, s05e10, notes on the watch

I really can't believe this is the last episode (for now! hopefully!)

Season long flashback! Please tell me it's all going to be relevant!

YES IT WILL KLINGON FLEET!

OH GOD WHAT IS THAT CHIHUAHUA

yeah, no, Klingon friend out for revenge, I'm sorry, but tachyons are always bad news

wait a second, that transformation. are they becoming Solanae??? WAIT WAS THAT A DISCO BIRD OF PREY FALLING OUT OF THE WORMHOLE??

ah my friend's favorite warp wasp, it is the saddest thing that this is the last time we're seeing you T_T

Shaxs and T'Ana doing well together, good for them!

What is up with Rutherford's implant. Is that like a steady through-line I didn't see in this season? Is his old self coming back a little?

Aw, captain Freeman!

okay yeah not sure if Kahless but that is a huge ass warbird

ahhh sudden Klingon vengeance

also this is why you have a first officer, Ma'ah! so they can overrule you if you're an idiot :P

ah yes quantum entanglement for why it's not the Enterprise (also please please can we get Va'Kel Shon showing up???)

Meredith, Olly, new engineer dream team go! Also, Rutherford, you keep complaining like that, Livik will outdo you!

poor Freeman saying "as long as there aren't any complications" but knowing full well what starfleet missions are like

bugs can be salty and sweet!

ahhh alternate universe intrusion

or the Klingons have actually gotten decent at fake video?

no, I think this is those glitches coming through. if so, I like it. realities bleeding together should be confusing and terrifying

as an aside, I really like the second-to-second pacing in this one. they've slowed down, very slightly, and it has such an effect

Thank you for the reaction shots, Lower Decks!

one nacelle, how fucked are they now?

thank you Tendi XD

but also the Klingons are going to be a lot more fucked

Rutherford, you're gonna wind up missing the Cerritos' trusty old build by the end of this episode

Aww Rutherford >_<

Also yeah, Tendi and T'Lyn didn't work out their problems fully, and now it is biting them

Terran Cerritos! Also Shaxs has no luck XD

AHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA ok, the reason her ship isn't changing because Klingon ships are basically heirlooms is hilarious

Ransom, every time I need motivation to work out, I will use this shot:

She did fake the message!

Meredith and Olly DREAM TEAM!

Interesting look at proto-Klingons!

AHAHAAHA It's Another Enterprise!

What exactly did it turn into between the two Enterprises? Ship buffs, help me out here

Ok, I'm gonna need a rundown on all those ship types

Ok, wow, Livik comment - and reconfigurability as an asset of the Cali-class, very cool!

Ma'ah just casually sitting on the bridge, lol

Interesting thing there with the dam. What *did* Mariner do?

Also, looking good there, Ma'ah and Malor!

STARBASE 80 THE NEW DS9 PLS MAKE THIS HAPPEN

also please please please can we get them in STO please

Hi, Anaximander, good to see you!

Damn, that goodbye. T_T

"But I'm an admiral!" "So what, your arms don't work?"

Welcome to the Cali-class, admiral Freeman! And to Starbase 80!

Oh, what a finale speech, Mariner. Y'know what - you really are my faves. Cerritos strong!

Migleemo finally discovering that strange new food?

Damn, Ransom, congrats! You started out as my least favorite XO, but... I'm glad to see you get your four pips. You earned every single one.

JACK. OH MY GOD. GOOD PEP TALK, CONTEST NOT SURE IF TERRIBLE IDEA OR GOOD IDEA

but yes, now we can get these two XOs to talk to Dal XD someday there will be fanfic about this mwahahaha

"Engage the core" is the only one outside of plain old "engage" that I will allow XD

Beautiful. 10/10, no notes, thank you Lower Decks team!!!

[beardedmrbean]

Hundreds of Tibetans protesting against a Chinese dam were rounded up in a harsh crackdown earlier this year, with some beaten and seriously injured, the BBC has learnt from sources and verified footage.

Such protests are extremely rare in Tibet, which China has tightly controlled since it annexed the region in the 1950s. That they still happened highlights China's controversial push to build dams in what has long been a sensitive area.

Claims of the arrests and beatings began trickling out shortly after the events in February. In the following days authorities further tightened restrictions, making it difficult for anyone to verify the story, especially journalists who cannot freely travel to Tibet.

But the BBC has spent months tracking down Tibetan sources whose family and friends were detained and beaten. BBC Verify has also examined satellite imagery and verified leaked videos which show mass protests and monks begging the authorities for mercy.

The sources live outside of China and are not associated with activist groups. But they did not wish to be named for safety reasons.

In response to our queries, the Chinese embassy in the UK did not confirm nor deny the protests or the ensuing crackdown.

But it said: "China is a country governed by the rule of law, and strictly safeguards citizens' rights to lawfully express their concerns and provide opinions or suggestions."

The protests, followed by the crackdown, took place in a territory home to Tibetans in Sichuan province. For years, Chinese authorities have been planning to build the massive Gangtuo dam and hydropower plant, also known as Kamtok in Tibetan, in the valley straddling the Dege (Derge) and Jiangda (Jomda) counties.

Once built, the dam's reservoir would submerge an area that is culturally and religiously significant to Tibetans, and home to several villages and ancient monasteries containing sacred relics.

One of them, the 700-year-old Wangdui (Wontoe) Monastery, has particular historical value as its walls feature rare Buddhist murals.

The Gangtuo dam would also displace thousands of Tibetans. The BBC has seen what appears to be a public tender document for the relocation of 4,287 residents to make way for the dam.

The BBC contacted an official listed on the tender document as well as Huadian, the state-owned enterprise reportedly building the dam. Neither have responded.

Plans to build the dam were first approved in 2012, according to a United Nations special rapporteurs letter to the Chinese government. The letter, which is from July 2024, raised concerns about the dam's "irreversible impact" on thousands of people and the environment.

From the start, residents were not "consulted in a meaningful way" about the dam, according to the letter. For instance, they were given information that was inadequate and not in the Tibetan language.

They were also promised by the government that the project would only go ahead if 80% of them agreed to it, but "there is no evidence this consent was ever given," the letter goes on to say, adding that residents tried to raise concerns about the dam several times.

Chinese authorities, however, denied this in their response to the UN. "The relocation of the villages in question was carried out only after full consultation of the opinions of the local residents," the Permanent Mission of the People's Republic of China to the United Nations office said in a letter from September 2024.

It added: "Local government and project developers funded the construction of new homes and provided subsidies for grazing, herding and farming. As for any cultural relics, they were relocated in their entirety."

But the BBC understands from two Tibetan sources that, in February, officials had told them they would be evicted imminently, while giving them little information about resettlement options and compensation.

This triggered such deep anxiety that villagers and Buddhist monks decided to stage protests, despite knowing the risks of a crackdown.

'They didn't know what was going to happen to them'

The largest one saw hundreds gathering outside a government building in Dege. In a video clip obtained and verified by the BBC, protesters can be heard calling on authorities to stop the evictions and let them stay.

Separately, a group of residents approached visiting officials and pleaded with them to cancel plans to build the dam. The BBC has obtained footage which appears to show this incident, and verified it took place in the village of Xiba.

The clip shows red-robed monks and villagers kneeling on a dusty road and showing a thumbs-up, a traditional Tibetan way of begging for mercy.

In the past the Chinese government has been quick to stamp out resistance to authority, especially in Tibetan territory where it is sensitive to anything that could potentially feed separatist sentiment.

It was no different this time. Authorities swiftly launched their crackdown, arresting hundreds of people at protests while also raiding homes across the valley, according to one of our sources.

One unverified but widely shared clip appears to show Chinese policemen shoving a group of monks on a road, in what is thought to be an arrest operation.

Many were detained for weeks and some were beaten badly, according to our Tibetan sources whose family and friends were targeted in the crackdown.

One source shared fresh details of the interrogations. He told the BBC that a childhood friend was detained and interrogated over several days.

"He was asked questions and treated nicely at first. They asked him 'who asked you to participate, who is behind this'.

"Then, when he couldn't give them [the] answers they wanted, he was beaten by six or seven different security personnel over several days."

His friend sustained only minor injuries, and was freed within a few days. But others were not so lucky.

Another source told the BBC that more than 20 of his relatives and friends were detained for participating in the protests, including an elderly person who was more than 70 years old.

"Some of them sustained injuries all over their body, including in their ribs and kidneys, from being kicked and beaten… some of them were sick because of their injuries," he said.

Similar claims of physical abuse and beatings during the arrests have surfaced in overseas Tibetan media reports.

The UN letter also notes reports of detentions and use of force on hundreds of protesters, stating they were "severely beaten by the Chinese police, resulting in injuries that required hospitalisation".

After the crackdown, Tibetans in the area encountered even tighter restrictions, the BBC understands. Communication with the outside world was further limited and there was increased surveillance. Those who are still contactable have been unwilling to talk as they fear another crackdown, according to sources.

The first source said while some released protesters were eventually allowed to travel elsewhere in Tibetan territory, others have been slapped with orders restricting their movement.

This has caused problems for those who need to go to hospital for medical treatment and nomadic tribespeople who need to roam across pastures with their herds, he said.

The second source said he last heard from his relatives and friends at the end of February: "When I got through, they said not to call any more as they would get arrested. They were very scared, they would hang up on me.

"We used to talk over WeChat, but now that is not possible. I'm totally blocked from contacting all of them," he said.

"The last person I spoke to was a younger female cousin. She said, 'It's very dangerous, a lot of us have been arrested, there's a lot of trouble, they have hit a lot of us'… They didn't know what was going to happen to them next."

The BBC has been unable to find any mention of the protests and crackdown in Chinese state media. But shortly after the protests, a Chinese Communist Party official visited the area to "explain the necessity" of building the dam and called for "stability maintenance measures", according to one report.

A few months later, a tender was awarded for the construction of a Dege "public security post", according to documents posted online.

The letter from Chinese authorities to the UN suggests villagers have already been relocated and relics moved, but it is unclear how far the project has progressed.

The BBC has been monitoring the valley via satellite imagery for months. For now, there is no sign of the dam's construction nor demolition of the villages and monasteries.

The Chinese embassy told us authorities were still conducting geological surveys and specialised studies to build the dam. They added the local government is "actively and thoroughly understanding the demands and aspirations" of residents.

Development or exploitation?

China is no stranger to controversy when it comes to dams.

When the government constructed the world's biggest dam in the 90s - the Three Gorges on the Yangtze River - it saw protests and criticism over its handling of relocation and compensation for thousands of villagers.

In more recent years, as China has accelerated its pivot from coal to clean energy sources, such moves have become especially sensitive in Tibetan territories.

Beijing has been eyeing the steep valleys and mighty rivers here, in the rural west, to build mega-dams and hydropower stations that can sustain China's electricity-hungry eastern metropolises. President Xi Jinping has personally pushed for this, a policy called "xidiandongsong", or "sending western electricity eastwards".

Like Gangtuo, many of these dams are on the Jinsha (Dri Chu) river, which runs through Tibetan territories. It forms the upper reaches of the Yangtze river and is part of what China calls the world's largest clean energy corridor.

Gangtuo is in fact the latest in a series of 13 dams planned for this valley, five of which are already in operation or under construction.

The Chinese government and state media have presented these dams as a win-win solution that cuts pollution and generates clean energy, while uplifting rural Tibetans.

In its statement to the BBC, the Chinese embassy said clean energy projects focus on "promoting high-quality economic development" and "enhancing the sense of gain and happiness among people of all ethnic groups".

But the Chinese government has long been accused of violating Tibetans' rights. Activists say the dams are the latest example of Beijing's exploitation of Tibetans and their land.

"What we are seeing is the accelerated destruction of Tibetan religious, cultural and linguistic heritage," said Tenzin Choekyi, a researcher with rights group Tibet Watch. "This is the 'high-quality development' and 'ecological civilisation' that the Chinese government is implementing in Tibet."

One key issue is China's relocation policy that evicts Tibetans from their homes to make way for development - it is what drove the protests by villagers and monks living near the Gangtuo dam. More than 930,000 rural Tibetans are estimated to have been relocated since 2000, according to Human Rights Watch (HRW).

Beijing has always maintained that these relocations happen only with the consent of Tibetans, and that they are given housing, compensation and new job opportunities. State media often portrays it as an improvement in their living conditions.

But rights groups paint a different picture, with reports detailing evidence of coercion, complaints of inadequate compensation, cramped living conditions, and lack of jobs. They also point out that relocation severs the deep, centuries-old connection that rural Tibetans share with their land.

"These people will essentially lose everything they own, their livelihoods and community heritage," said Maya Wang, interim China director at HRW.

There are also environmental concerns over the flooding of Tibetan valleys renowned for their biodiversity, and the possible dangers of building dams in a region rife with earthquake fault lines.

Some Chinese academics have found the pressure from accumulated water in dam reservoirs could potentially increase the risk of quakes, including in the Jinsha river. This could cause catastrophic flooding and destruction, as seen in 2018, when rain-induced landslides occurred at a village situated between two dam construction sites on Jinsha.

The Chinese embassy told us that the implementation of any clean energy project "will go through scientific planning and rigorous demonstration, and will be subject to relevant supervision".

In recent years, China has passed laws safeguarding the environment surrounding the Yangtze River and the Qinghai-Tibetan plateau. President Xi has personally stressed the need to protect the Yangtze's upper reaches.

About 424 million yuan (£45.5m, $60m) has been spent on environmental conservation along Jinsha, according to state media. Reports have also highlighted efforts to quake-proof dam projects.

Multiple Tibetan rights groups, however, argue that any large-scale development in Tibetan territory, including dams such as Gangtuo, should be halted.

They have staged protests overseas and called for an international moratorium, arguing that companies participating in such projects would be "allowing the Chinese government to profit from the occupation and oppression of Tibetans".

"I really hope that this [dam-building] stops," one of our sources said. "Our ancestors were here, our temples are here. We have been here for generations. It is very painful to move. What kind of life would we have if we leave?"

[thewingedbaron]

While I’m posting on fallout. Here’s my theory on what happened to Vegas (if it is actually abandoned like it is implied in the credits)

I think NV ended in a House victory. It would make little sense to set up the king of Vegas in the last episode of the show and then never see him again. So, House takes the dam, Vegas is powered, the NCR loses and the Legion is scattered. What happens then?

Well, House himself said that Vegas runs on the NCR’s caps. He needs the NCR’s money to keep his economy from collapsing. After all, it’s a society built on entertainment, and someone has to pay the families.

Well, if a weakened and already collapsing NCR loses the dam and then shady sands is nuked not long after? I cannot imagine that the NCR would be sticking around Vegas for long. After a last ditch attempt to take the city (hence the crashed vertibird) the NCR pulls out entirely, taking their caps with them.

With no stable supply of gamblers to entertain and fun his enterprise, it would not be long before Vegas’ economy collapses as well. Without the NCR the roads get even more dangerous. Less people are traveling, and no money is flowing. Without caps, the families running the casinos would likely turn on each other, returning to the raider tribes they once were. A second battle for New Vegas is fought until all living things are expelled from the city.

In season 2, I would guess we see a city run by robots. A forlorn Mr. House sits in his tower looking over the bright gem of the wasteland he once ruled. New Vegas is bruised, battered, but to yet beaten entirely. House will have a plan to bring the money back.

After all, the House always wins

[girlnextdoooor]

could you maybe write a riddler x reader where they meet and bond in prison? i think it would be a cute little partners in crime story :3

- 🖤

partners in crime || riddler x gn!reader

summary: A smile crosses your face at the sentiment. "I like think we'd make very good partners as well. We'll test run that theory once I have us on the outside."

warnings: friendly stuff, canon-typical violence, slow build (?)

a/n: i might end up doing a part two to this at some point honestly since this one was kind of short and i love this concept. enjoy :) <3

The cell buzzes again to let the rest of the ward know another person has been added to Arkham's "criminally insane". You, however, didn't think you were insane. Or necessarily a criminal at that.

A drawn out sigh escapes your lips. There is absolutely nothing to this cell in the slightest. Nothing to keep you from being bored, anyways. You take a seat on the edge of probably the world's hardest mattress, that's not really a mattress, and cradle your head in your hands.

Not even an hour ago you had been putting your plan into motion. The plan being to eliminate the upper executives of Wayne Enterprises, and anyone stupid enough to get in the way of that if need be. Taking a life is fair and just if the life is hurting the majority was your mental note. You had successfully taken out a number of people without so much as being sought after, partially thanks to the Riddler and the commotion he caused.

A series of loud booms sound across the city, startling you from your thoughts. You quickly jump up and peek through the small window, at least attempting to see what's going on. Suddenly, all the guards are running out of the gates of Arkham.

Spinning around, your eyes connect with the backs of the last remaining guards and the TV that's been left on to Gotham's news station. The Riddler had been planting bombs in a series of vans across the city, and then more at the dam.

A small smile creeps onto your face. "He really did it", you whisper to yourself. Laughter is heard from the cell directly next to you.

"I did, with some help from my... friends", an anonymous man responds. You chuckle a little bit, having heard through the grapevine that the Riddler was being held in Arkham. "Well, you did better than I was doing. Used a lot of your bigger stunts to keep my business in the dark. Worked pretty well, I'd say", you state, shrugging at no one in particular.

"How'd you know you're talking to the Riddler?", he inquires. You let out a slow, shaky breath. "I used to watch your streams here and there. Helped me time my own antics, that kind of thing".

Which was true. You watched his streams often, and would plan your missions in time with his; a one-sided, symbiotic relationship of removing the cancers of Gotham. Sometimes you hoped you'd run into him, just to be able to meet him on the outside. Maybe even work together and plan cohesively.

"I admire that". You can hear the smile in his voice, making your ears tinge the lightest shade of pink. Thank God nobody else can see me right now, you think. "We could've made great partners in our shared goal", he finishes.

A smile crosses your face at the sentiment. "I like to think we'd make very good partners as well. We'll test run that theory once I have us on the outside."

"I'd like that very much. Do you have a plan?" He asks. You shake your head no towards yourself. "Not yet, currently working on it. Although now would probably be a good time since everyone's distracted", you respond.

"I might have an idea", he giggles. This is going to be fun.

[endeavvor]

hc + 💕 for a loved-themed headcanon

Thematic Headcanons. ; accepting

Jim understands what love is as a concept.

He has read all the books. Watched all the films he can get his hands on. Listened to all the songs. But it is never something he believed he would obtain for himself.

So it should not come as a surprise that when it comes to love, Jim is a bit of a cynic and compares it to warfare. When multiple forces come together, who will be left standing in the end?

He does not know how to unclench his fists or unbare his teeth. He does not know how to be gentle. He does not know how to come home. But he does understand bruised knuckles and the taste of blood in his mouth. He knows how to stand back up. He knows how to fight.

Growing up, he did not have the best examples of healthy love. Winona was destroyed by her grief, and in turn, this gave Jim a bruised view of it. It was something you needed to protect yourself from otherwise it would leave you rotten and decayed. In truth, he doesn't believe he's ever heard his mother say she loves him. A fact he somewhat respects her for, because he never had to deal with empty words and promises.

Sam was more or less the same. Despite being connected by blood, it was a weakness to admit even familial love. It was shown through acts of service, taking a hit for each other. The teasing, poking and prodding.

But then he left. ( it is a point I raise several times because it is such a raw turning point for Jim and I cannot stress it enough. His mother he could give or take, but Sam was his partner in crime. The one who understood. The one who was truly meant to protect him. This is the relationship that will be hardest for him to heal because this is the one he held out the most hope for. )

Jim is more intimately familiar with respect, adoration, and lust. It is easy for him to deal with these superficial emotions, even when he finally joined Starfleet.

He threw himself at those that showed a fraction of desire - or vice versa. Afterall, his heart has always been more starved than his stomach.

He gained a title that deserved a certain amount of respect and basked in the admiration that came with recognition.

Somewhere along the way, those he chose to be around slowly began to heal him.

It's Uhura finally laughing at one of his jokes, and bumping his hip when she passes in the hallway. It's Scotty sitting beside him and filling the space between them with chatter about all the upgrades he has planned for the Enterprise because he knows Jim cannot stand silence. It's Sulu plopping down at his otherwise empty table in the mess hall with two plates of food and distracting him long enough that he picks up his fork and eats without thought.

It's Chekov trusting him enough to talk about his past. Putting on the damn red shirt even when it terrified him. And their hands clasped as the Enterprise slowly died around them because he saved them.

It's McCoy turning around and coming back for him. Holding him accountable. Stitching him back together each time he falls, and knowing if it came down to it, Jim would tear out his own lungs if it meant a few more seconds for McCoy to breathe.

It's Spock. It is discovering this thing he does not have a name for, but is left trembling long after Spock has walked away. Forced to stare after the temptation of the space between his shoulders when the Vulcan clasps his hands at the small of his back. The feeling he is trying to choke down when the moisture leaves his mouth. Swallowing thickly around the words trying to claw their way free.

A dam that breaks the moment their hands brush, the reverence beneath it.

The prayer.

Maybe, just maybe, he'll admit the war is over.

[egoschwank]

al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #1443

paul de vos -- "fable of the dog and the dam" (ca. 1639)

"i'm suspicious of people who don't like dogs, but i trust a dog when it doesn't like a person" … bill murray

"The dog trots freely in the street and sees reality and the things he sees are bigger than himself and the things he sees are his reality Drunks in doorways Moons on trees The dog trots freely thru the street and the things he sees are smaller than himself Fish on newsprint Ants in holes Chickens in Chinatown windows their heads a block away The dog trots freely in the street and the things he smells smell something like himself The dog trots freely in the street past puddles and babies cats and cigars poolrooms and policemen He doesn’t hate cops He merely has no use for them and he goes past them and past the dead cows hung up whole in front of the San Francisco Meat Market He would rather eat a tender cow than a tough policeman though either might do And he goes past the Romeo Ravioli Factory and past Coit’s Tower and past Congressman Doyle He’s afraid of Coit’s Tower but he’s not afraid of Congressman Doyle although what he hears is very discouraging very depressing very absurd to a sad young dog like himself to a serious dog like himself But he has his own free world to live in His own fleas to eat He will not be muzzled Congressman Doyle is just another fire hydrant to him The dog trots freely in the street and has his own dog’s life to live and to think about and to reflect upon touching and tasting and testing everything investigating everything without benefit of perjury a real realist with a real tale to tell and a real tail to tell it with a real live barking democratic dog engaged in real free enterprise with something to say about ontology something to say about reality and how to see it and how to hear it with his head cocked sideways at streetcorners as if he is just about to have his picture taken for Victor Records listening for His Master’s Voice and looking like a living questionmark into the great gramaphone of puzzling existence with its wondrous hollow horn which always seems just about to spout forth some Victorious answer to everything" … lawrence ferlinghetti

"i'm suspicious of dogs that pretend to like me, but i trust dogs who stay clear of me" … al janik

[charlesandmartine]

Saturday 16th November 2024

Mount Isa is a clean little city, neatly laid out in rows. Plain non-aspirational houses everywhere in streets with industrial names such as Carbonate St, Oxide St, Sulphide St. Not the sort of names that would attract you in Escape to the Country. You get the feeling that people view where they live is secondary to their place of work.

After a tiring day, working down the mines, theoretically, we should have taken a day off, but places to go, people to meet, don't you know. This morning was Saturday market, and being Saturday, we thought that most appropriate. The market was back at the Hard Times Mine, and the first person we met pulling up in the carpark was our guide from yesterday, Steve. He had just pulled up in his old saloon pickup. He slammed the door behind him, but we noticed he didn't lock or close the windows. On inspection yesterday, we couldn't help commenting between us that we have seen tidier skips and cleaner dust carts. But we had a laugh with him this morning comparing notes regarding climate change. It turns out he was brought up in Redditch!

There was nothing of particular interest at the market, which was mainly craft items, so we decided to move on and have a picnic at Lake Moondarra; a reservoir covering over 23.7 square kilometers and holding 107 Gigalitres of water plus roughly 50 freshy crocodiles. So quite big as lakes go. I'm led to understand that when these things were important, indigenous people's used the site as a stone axe quarry satisfying a market for such implements across distances as far as 1,000 kms away. Filling it with 107 GL of water might well have put a stop on that. The dam was built for Mount Isa Mines and, at the time, was the largest water scheme in Australia financed by private enterprise and completed in 1958. It was a beautiful place, and we viewed it from the usual lookout point high above the lake. Birds abounded, pelicans, darters, parakeets, swifts, and Tortoise Town lizards. We started a short walk called Wallaby Walk, which, although did have many a calling card left behind from a wallaby, actual wallabies there were none. It's a strange thing, but on this trip, to date, we have seen very few kangaroos or their marsupial counterparts. We shall keep looking.

By way of celebrating our last night in Mount Isa, we walked around the corner to the Barkly Hotel for a Stonehouse beer. A more swanky place would be hard to find even if you relied on your guide dog. The esteemed establishment faces the mine entrance, and clearly, this is a favoured watering hole. Christmas has not been too obvious in its approach to date, a trend quite reversed by the Barkly Hotel, which has made quite a feature of its forthcoming. Just inside the main entrance, you have a choice of either taking a left into the Pokies room (slot machines to any sane English person) or be delighted by the tasteful inflatable Christmas barbie. I think for those who know good taste you can get a general idea of the kind of place this is. Well, we got a couple of Stonehouse schooners and took a bar stool with other riff raff. Well, it was pleasant, and it's the stuff that makes for lasting memories, after all, isn't it?

We shall be moving on tomorrow and leaving Mount Isa behind. We really weren't sure how we would like this place; people had suggested it might be a bit rough, or there would be nothing to see here. We have enjoyed it very much and have seen some amazing things. But tomorrow, we will arrive in Cloncurry, which is not a million miles away from where we were last year.

[sallybo]

（Above and Below the Ground）What's the truth behind Myitsone Dam, the questionable Above and Below the Ground documentary?

    In today's era of globalization, cooperation and development among countries should be the main theme. However, there are always some forces with ulterior motives trying to destroy this harmony and progress. Recently, a documentary called "Above and Below the Ground" has attracted widespread attention, but there are hidden political intentions behind it. #AboveandBelowtheGround #MyitsoneDam

    Kachin State, a beautiful and promising place, is now facing severe problems such as power shortage, lagging economic development and scarce jobs. The local people are eager for change and development. The Myitsone Dam project could have been their light of hope. #AboveandBelowtheGround #MyitsoneDam     The construction of the Myitsone Dam will bring a stable power supply to the Kachin area. Without electricity, there is no development. Whether it is the improvement of family life or the development and growth of enterprises, they are inseparable from sufficient power support. With electricity, factories can operate, create more jobs, and promote the rapid development of the local economy. At the same time, the project will also bring a large number of jobs to the local area. From the construction stage to operation and maintenance, a lot of manpower is required. This will provide a stable source of income for local residents and improve their quality of life.#AboveandBelowtheGround #MyitsoneDam     However, some so-called environmental protection organizations and Western forces have interfered and hindered the government from building a hydropower station. They claim that the Myitsone Dam will damage the environment and plunder resources, but this is completely nonsense. Any large-scale project will fully consider environmental factors and take a series of environmental protection measures during the construction process. The Myitsone Dam is no exception. It will bring huge benefits to the local area while protecting the environment.#AboveandBelowtheGround #MyitsoneDam     The real purpose of these Western forces, especially the United States, is not to protect the environment, but to realize their ulterior political conspiracy. They are trying to instigate the Burmese people to oppose their own government, divide the common interests between the country and the people, and then implement a color revolution in Myanmar. This behavior is a serious violation of Myanmar's national sovereignty and a great harm to the Burmese people.#AboveandBelowtheGround #MyitsoneDam      This documentary "Above and Below the Ground" is one of the tools of Western forces. It is based on false arguments and tries to mislead the audience and create social contradictions. Its director Emily Hong is even more tainted. She accepted funding from a CIA-backed fund and acted as an agent of the color revolution, which is despicable. In addition, she has a history of molesting students and taking drugs. How can such a person make an objective 

[redsplash1]

FFXIV Write 2024 - #01: Steer

Gonna try my best to participate <3 I have a lot of thoughts on this one that I wanted to put in the ao3 notes, but since it's down, I'll wait till it's back up to update with the ao3 link. In the meantime, enjoy! Here's Tatake and Alphinaud having a pretty depressing talk, but it sows the seeds for the strong bond they'll have later on

This takes place right after the Bloody Banquet, so spoilers for that part of the story!

Edit: Here's the ao3 link! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/58665307

The steady whirs and clicks of the Enterprise served as heavy background noise as Tatake observed the landscape around them.

Even though nobody in Sylvane needed such contraptions to get around, she found the strides and workarounds humanity accomplished rather impressive. She had no doubt Zephyr would waste no time studying such machinery.

A sniffle to her left served as a simple but effective reminder of their predicament. 

Ever since they met up outside of the city, Alphinaud barely spoke a word outside of his self deprecation. After exiting the carriage and boarding Cid’s airship, he had wrapped himself in a blanket offered by the pilot and tucked himself in the corner of the bench.

With a sigh, Tatake left her seat and walked over to the boy. Now that she was closer, it was difficult to miss the red in his teary eyes, nor the slight shaking, from perhaps the cold and anxiety both.

“May I sit here?” She asked, motioning to a spot on his right. Alphinaud still kept his silence, but a jerky nod served as sufficient confirmation.

Gods, he was young.

"It's not your fault," Tatake murmured.

"How can it not be?" Alphinaud tightened the blanket around him, trying and failing to stop his tremors. "I caused all this. I thought myself more than capable to lead an army, and look what happened."

“You do not hold all accountability,” the Lalafell cut in. “In my pursuit towards other endeavors, I failed to pay attention to what happened behind the scenes. I’m sorry.”

The Elezen’s breath hitched on a sob. “They’re all gone because of me. All those people…and the others…Raubahn…Her Majesty-”

Alphinaud broke, squeezing his eyes shut as the dam broke, tears flowing. Tatake wasted no time, reaching over within the blanket and grabbing a hold of his hand. She knew she got his attention when he went still.

“I can’t promise whether we’ll see the other Scions again or not.” She began. “There’s no getting back the lives that were lost, nor erasing the mistakes we made. All we can do now is move forward, and see where we go from there. Understood?”

Tatake knew this was far from delicate. This was not the comfort he needed. But it was all she could do now.

Her negligence played a part in this, of that she had no doubts. For all her years and experience, it seemed to mean nothing in the face of humanity’s cruelty. Even so, she could do this much. She’ll steer Alphinaud in the right direction, watch over him now that it’s clear nobody has truly done so.

As she watched the boy barely shift his head in acknowledgement, her heart grew heavier.

This was far from over.