#I do think the idea of it acting as a gateway is sound though given the cloudark of it all

[raetoria]

Let’s talk about the Veil

I’m gonna start out by saying this fully theorizing, complete spinfoil, little evidence but big dreams.  This post is not going to be about the campaign, I have different post on my blog talking about it if you really want to know.  As you might expect, huge spoilers for the campaign.  Alright, it’s lore time babey!

Alright so the Veil is super mysterious.  As mentioned in the campaign, there is very little we understand about the Veil.  Osiris has never seen anything like it, the Neomuni really just use it as a battery.  We really only know three things:

The Witness used it to open a portal (of some sort).

In interacts with both the Light and the Darkness.

It powers Neomuna and specifically is integral to the operation of the CloudArk.

That is really not a lot to go on.  However, I do think it is actually enough to figure out what is going on.  I believe that the Veil acts as a gateway between the Light and Darkness, or more specifically the physical and the metaphysical.  Now that is a pretty wild claim but here’s why.

During the campaign, Osiris muses on the nature of Light and Dark.  Specifically, he mentions that the Light deals with the physical: causing things to grow, letting us bend the rules of physics, etc.  On the other side, the Darkness deals with the metaphysical: dreams and nightmares (Nezarec alert!), feelings of control, emotions, etc.  He notes that these two forces are fundamentally incompatible.  Frankly, I disagree, I think this is a case of Osiris purposely coming to the incorrect conclusion to have a reveal in Final Shape but that’s a different theory entirely.  For now, the important thing to note is that there are a lot of questions around what happens when Light and Dark collide (Strand, Tormentors, Savathun, both “sides” using both powers, etc). 

Now let’s look at the Ishtar Collective facility and Neomuna.  In the final mission, Nimbus notes that a device we see is a CloudArk prototype.  Later we see some wacky chairs that probably were part of that project.  I cannot fully remember but I also remember the implication that the Veil is used in part of the upload process to the CloudArk.  Here, we see minds crossing into a digital space, disconnected from their physical body.  They go from entirely physical to entirely mental.

Okay Witness time.  We see the Witness carve a giant triangle into the Traveler and then open a Veil portal, passing beyond it.  I am reading this as the Witness has entered the Traveler. I’ll come back to that.  But again, the Witness has passed into an unknown space, Darkness goes into a space that is ostensibly defined by the Light.  Furthermore, the Radial Mast is specifically identified as a source of Light during the campaign and our ghost (a creation of the Light) is used to channel the Veil’s power with Osiris telling us to get our ghost away from the Veil.  Again, the convergence of Light and Dark.

Alright let’s bring it all together.  In all of these cases, we see the Veil being used as a sort of translation layer between physical and nonphysical states or more specifically, Light and Dark.  I think the Veil allows for Light and Darkness to coexist in a way that is otherwise impossible.  This is why Strand is present on Neomuna (our Light powers getting reflected into a metaphysical state), this is why our ghost can be semi-hijacked by the Witness, this is why Neomuni can be uploaded to the CloudArk which really feels a lot like the VexNet, and this is why the Radial Mast / a source of Light (us) was needed for the Witness to interact with the Veil.  It plays really nicely on the phrase “beyond the Veil” which, while often used in conjunction with death, actually just refers a mysterious division between worlds.  Again, plays really nicely with the ideas I mention here about moving between worlds, and moving between the domains of Light and Dark. 

So that begs the questions, what the heck is going on with the Witness and the Traveler?  Well take a trip with me into deep theory territory here cause I’m moving from little evidence to zero evidence.  In the final cutscene, we see the Witness send its Pyramid ships into the portal before following.  We know a couple of things.  According to Osiris, the Light deals with the physical.  We also know the Pyramid ships respond, at least in part, to our thoughts and desires.  What if the inside of the Traveler is a massive space, able to fit in the relatively small Traveler ball Tardis style because of the physics warping nature of the Light like the thought warping nature of the Darkness in the Pyramids?  The Witness needs some way to enter that space, but literally cannot because it is such a channeller of the Darkness. So, to get its ships and forces inside, it needs a translation layer.  Something that will allow it to enter this space and allow the Darkness and Light to mix.  That’s why it needs the Veil, to pass beyond, to actually get to the heart of whatever the Traveler is, whether that’s a Witness-like creature or of something more abstract. 

Also, I am wondering if the reason why nothing we do gets past the Veil is because we are all physical and Light based.  Would explain why the Witness converts its ships into smokey wisps to pass through.  So perhaps the answer is we have to become heavy on the Darkness side or... think our way through?  Not sure about this one tbh XD. Either way, I am sure we will see more about the Veil in the lead up to Final Shape. 

[datawyrms]

Ectober Day 11: Doors

On Ao3

The demon did not return. Both of them had doubted the creature would stay away for long, considering how it crawled back into their shadows within a day last time. She kept expecting a shadow to suddenly stare at her, a clawed hand to reach out from below her bed. It was easier to ignore it when she wasn’t home- so they’d been spending most of their free time anywhere else.

Tucker had managed his great escape undetected by her parents, even if he insisted on joking about being ‘thrown out of the window’. It was absurd, lighthearted and downplayed why he had to risk climbing down the lattice in the first place.

It was foolish, to pretend there was no demon and to try and get back to normal. To grin and pretend they didn’t feel the clawing emptiness inside that seemed to worsen if they weren’t together. Acting like their poor sleep was simply school related stress instead of a cold crushing weight around their hearts and lungs. A weight that worsened in the dark. Outwardly, they were perfectly fine. She was a bit jealous of her friend, he’d always been the better actor. If she didn’t know better, she would totally believe Tucker was perfectly fine.

Even if they weren’t. Phantom had said something about ‘the door already being open’, and she was starting to suspect it was a more literal one. Some awful gateway inside them that would let monsters out and suck their humanity away. Could they close it, or block it somehow, lock the demon away and throw away the key? Or were there more doors, countless ones the beast could bound through?

“Hey Sam? You should probably take a break” Tucker nudged her, looking between her and the dusty book she’d been spending every free moment pouring over. “Like I know I make glasses look good, but that book isn’t worth it.”

“Of course it is. We need to be ready for when that monster comes back.” She resisted the temptation to rub her temples, not wanting to admit it was starting to wear her down. “Or find out what it meant by ’the door’.”

“Sam, it’s been a week. Maybe he can’t come back since you ordered him to leave?” Tucker put emphasis on ‘him’, an odd reminder considering why she’d managed to get him to leave.

“Even if it can’t, you can feel something’s wrong. Can’t you?”

“Well yeah but” he bit at his lip, hesitating to continue. “I don’t think being nasty back is going to help? Isn’t that just doing what a demon wants?”

The rebuke was ridiculous at first, her gut already wanting to tell Tucker off for being so worried about the monster that almost killed him. Except. He might have a point. She’d been telling the truth a week ago, about not wanting to hurt the demon. So why did she keep wanting to think of Phantom as an ‘it’? Maybe because that’s how the book referred to demons. Or something uglier. Something foul and wrong that had given her the excuse to ignore her morals. Her stomach churned, even if she was thankful Tucker was a good enough friend to call her on that.

“Yeah. Right. We still need to deal with Phantom safely though. That’s not just being cruel when we know what he can get up to.”

“So what were you thinking of doing? You never had the chance to actually give me the details,” he left the reason why unsaid, fiddling with his glasses instead.

“Nothing painful. Just a way to contain him if he’s doing something. Like at first I was thinking a whistle to call him back or make him pay attention but that seems too risky now.”

“Like what? Enchant a soup thermos and stick him in there?” Tucker snorted “A real sinful soup?”

She rolled her eyes. Though she hadn’t actually decided what would be good for holding a cranky demon. “Well. One might be big enough for it? And keep him from seeing out…”

“Naughty shadow demons get made into soup. Oh man, that sounds terrible.” He kept laughing, but eventually managed to settle down. “I don’t think he’d be a fan.”

“He isn’t meant to like it, it’s to keep him from hurting people.”

“I guess. The whistle idea sounded better to me? Like a dog whistle so no one else hears it?”

“Only if it works. Which it might not since Phantom might not be his real name.” That was a problem with the container idea too. They could probably make one, but instead of being able to key into the specific demon and drag it back from anywhere...they’d have to aim it. On the upside it could catch demons that weren’t Phantom too. If there were other ones. It might just be paranoia, but ever since Phantom had gotten tangled up in her life, she’d always felt a bit uneasy in the lunchroom. Like something was watching.

“It suits him? It didn’t really sound like a lie.”

“Demons aren’t going to give you their true name unless you make them say it. I’m pretty sure he just gave us his cover name.” Sam sighed, wondering if she should have insisted that Tucker had done some more reading. “He shouldn’t be able to lie to us, but since he’s only listening half the time, he’s probably lying the other half.”

“Soooo if we both ask something at the same time, he’ll tell the truth?”

“Maybe? It’s worth a shot.” It would be helpful if it worked that way, but the constant warnings in the book reminded one that a human’s idea of sense and a demon’s rarely coincided.  “Anyway, can you use your PDA to make sure the angles on these are exact?” Sam pulled out a sketched circle, handing it over to her friend.

“Y’know, if exact shapes are a problem I could probably make them and print em. A printer isn’t going to have a shaky hand.”

“The book kinda predates computers, Tuck.”

“So I’ll try it. If it doesn’t work I’ve got a nice compass too.” He shrugged, already plugging away at something.

“Thanks. I think I have most of this right, but I’ll feel better when he can’t just show up out of nowhere anymore.”

“I’m kinda starting to think demons don’t do apologies. He seemed fine just looking at things and sleeping after the Dash thing.” Tucker didn’t look up from his work, more musing out loud than anything.

There was being nice, and there was...whatever Tucker was. Absurdly forgiving? “I have no idea how you’re so comfortable about him.”

“I like cats? He’s a lot like a cat.” Tucker gave a helpless shrug, earning another eye roll. “I bet if I told him humans apologize if they don’t mean to do something, he would.”

“Oh really? What do I get if he doesn’t?” She didn’t buy the little theory that traumatizing Tucker had been an ‘accident’.

“You get to say I told you so?”

“Deal.”

[sentient-rift]

Dimensional Skits: The Weight of Being the Rift

Days earlier, taking place at the same time as the Valentine's Day Party, RiFT continued to monitor the dimensional gateway, seeing if there were anyone in need he could help. As he was, many thoughts ran through his head. This job he was created to do... This mission he wanted to accomplish... Was it really worth it when he knew that no matter how hard he tried, there will still be those out there he couldn't save? And more importantly, even if he had good intentions and he planned to use his powers for good, was it right for him to have them? Was what he's trying to do... Even right to begin with?

"Do you ever take a break?"

A voice suddenly came from behind RiFT, startling him a bit. The voice was all too familiar, though, and he knew who it was before even turning around to see her.

"Shouldn't you be at the party, iCO?"

"Parties aren't really my thing. Besides, I could ask you the same thing."

The female Deep Log Reploid walked closer to RiFT, looking his way before looking at the gateway.

"You take your job so seriously..." iCO said, "It's a good thing and all, but you shouldn't overwork yourself."

"You're actually giving me a pep talk?" RiFT asked, "Looks like you care more than you'd like to admit."

"Don't get the wrong idea... I mean, I do care, but not like I've become all buddy-buddy with you guys. It's just that you're important to this mission... And to my research."

RiFT could see right through her, but decided not to press on. Though not to the extreme as Solo's case, it would seem iCO has what Welch calls "Tsundere tendencies," and doesn't like to admit when she cares about someone. He decided to change the subject. He wished it could be a more lighthearted subject, but... What was on his mind continued to bother him... And he really needed someone to talk to about it.

"iCO... Do you ever wonder if... What we're doing is really right? Do you ever wonder if... Having these powers are even right to have?"

iCO was taken aback from this sudden epiphany.

"What's this all of a sudden? You actually think what your doing is wrong when you have such noble intentions?"

"Having good intentions doesn't automatically make what I'm doing right..." RiFT lowered his head as he spoke, "You have to remember that many with 'good intentions' are villains. They thinks the ends justify the means, which is not true. They think it's okay to do what's wrong if it will lead to something good, or at the very least, what they believe is good. It doesn't matter if I have good intentions behind what I'm doing. What matters is if I reach that goal the right way... By the right means..."

"...You sure you're not over thinking it?" iCO asked, "It's almost sounds like you're sorry you've helped changed the lives of miserable people for the better."

What she said made RiFT ponder some more.

"...Are you sad that you've made people happy? Are you upset that you gave them hope? A second chance?"

He still wondered if it was really right to mess with other dimensions, even if it was to help people, but the question iCO asked was one RiFT knew he could answer.

"...Of course not."

iCO made one of her rare smiles.

"That's what I thought," she said, "You're worrying about this too much."

"I just... Don't want to make a mistake I'll regret. I don't want to make things worse. These powers are chaotic and dangerous if used incorrectly. They aught to have been given to a perfect being or only used by God Himself... Not an imperfect creation like me who can make mistakes. Plus, I have to fight against the temptation to act on my selfish desires..."

iCO tilted her head. Sure, she was the new girl and appeared very recently to this dimension, but for the short amount of time she's met RiFT, she concluded that he has a selfless heart that would rival X's. Kind of ironic when one remembers that RiFT's core is within Copy X's body.

"What selfish desires could you possibly have?" she asked.

"...To save everyone."

iCO was silent for awhile, processing what he just said.

"...How is that selfish?" she finally asked.

"Because I can't do that without damaging the fabric of time and space. That's the hardest part of my job; I can't always save everyone. No matter how much I want to, I'm sometimes left with the choice to save one or the other. If I choose both, it could lead to that dimension reaching a bad future... Or even collapsing on itself. And sometimes... I'm forced to watch someone die or suffer because they have to remain in that dimension if I don't want to destroy it. Many believe I'm all powerful, but I'm not. My powers have limits and it has rules I must follow... And all it takes is for me to decide to ignore them, and I could possibly destroy a world... Or even many worlds."

Copy X was not created to cry, but just from the expression RiFT made on Copy X's face, iCO knew he'd be shedding tears if he could.

"...Geez! I kind of wish RiCO was the one to come cheer you up, and not me," iCO said, "She's much better with this than I am..."

The Deep Log Reploid took a deep breath before she continued.

"Look... You've done a great job so far. I may have only shown up recently, but from all the stories I heard about you, you are a teammate and friend everyone values. You're doing your best, and that's been more than enough for the team."

"...I thought you said you were no good at cheering people up," RiFT said with a small smile.

"Wait, it actually worked?" iCO asked, legitimately surprised.

"A little," said RiFT.

"Well, thank goodness. I was afraid I had to resort to having to hug you or something. That would have been so weird..."

"You... Would have hugged me?"

iCO suddenly became defensive.

"Hey, don't get the wrong idea! That would have been a last resort if nothing else worked!"

iCO calmed down before she continued.

"It's what RiCO would do to cheer others up. If she were here, it would have been her first resort. Especially regarding you, since she had a secret crush on X and all."

"Does she now?"

"Oh... I wasn't supposed to say that."

RiFT just chuckled.

"Looks like she had a hand in X having the most Alts in X Dive."

"Maybe..." iCO actually chuckled herself.

"Was that a laugh?" RiFT asked.

"Hey! Just because I'm not a cheerful person doesn't mean I'm emotionless. I can find things amusing sometimes."

"Sorry... It's just nice to see you happy is all."

iCO averted her eyes away from RiFT upon hearing that. There was a small silence afterwards.

"Can't you take a break from this?" iCO broke the silence while looking at the gateway, "No one can break through without your permission. Why not close it up for today and have fun with everyone else? Didn't you say you're using Copy X's body so you can get close to everyone? Well, start getting close to them. Talk to them, have fun with them. Save the monitoring for tomorrow. And when you get back to this, remember to take a break at some point. Stress and exhaustion is an easy way to make a mistake."

"Hmm..." RiFT gave it some thought, "Maybe you're right..."

As if on cue, the gateway detected something. RiFT viewed it to see a world of floating islands being destroyed. There, he saw a girl and her unusual cat trying her best to save her world, but failing miserably.

"What's going on?"

"This is one of the Alternate Bad Futures I've been talking about. That girl trying to stop the catastrophe of her world, she did a heroic sacrifice to save it in her original universe. This is showing us what would happen if she failed."

"I thought you had control over the gateway. How come it gave you an urgent alarm?"

"It's because it was the last dimension I was looking at before we had our conversation, and I've yet to close the gateway's view mode. I've made it to alert me whenever something like this happens so I don't miss anything..."

The gateway's view of the dimension began to grow dim and blurry until it became completely blank.

"Is something wrong with the gateway?" iCO asked.

"No. This happens when a dimension has reached its breaking point. When a world is destroyed, there's not much to look at, and that area becomes blank. I can't look further in."

"But you can look back, right?"

RiFT looked at iCO after hearing her say that.

"Yes..." he said, "But this isn't a dimension I can save..."

"But can you save at least one person?" iCO asked.

RiFT looked at the gateway, then back at iCO.

"I believe I can," he answered.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

With a smile on his face, RiFT rewound the gateway and pulled out the one person he could save from the bad future; The girl who tried her best to save her world and failed, along with her cat. Upon hitting the floor, the girl looked at RiFT, barely awake.

"...An... Angel?" she said, "Am I... Dead?"

"No... I saved you just in time. You'll be safe here."

The girl stared a little longer before passing out.

"...How do you think she'll take it when she learns her dimension is destroyed?" iCO asked.

"No one ever takes it well when they care about it," RiFT answered, "Especially those who tried all they can to save it. But hopefully she understands the situation she's in. Her dimension is more like a branching path of a Prime Dimension... As if it was a curious 'what if' scenario that ended badly."

"You make this sound like a video game or something."

RiFT looked away while clearing his throat upon hearing iCO's last comment.

"When she comes to, I'll explain everything to her. Then we can get to the party."

iCO nodded.

...

After some time, RiFT and iCO finally made it to the Valentine's Day Party, along with a new friend. They were quickly greeted by ViA.

"Glad you're finally taking a break," he said, "You had me worried. By the way, who are your new friends?"

The girl stepped forward to introduce herself.

"My name is Kat, and this is Dusty. I guess we'll be staying here with you guys."

(New muse coming soon!)

[oriigami]

poison and wine

(Nami isn't expecting to run into Vinsmoke Reiju plotting a murder at the same high-society party where she's planning a heist, but, well. Two birds, one stone. Reiju/Nami, M. Read it on AO3 here!)

“What,” Nami hissed under her breath, “are you doing here.” 

She kept her voice low, so as not to raise any alarms. Just around the corner from the narrow alleyway they were hidden in was the gateway into the governor’s mansion, the massive open doors spilling light onto the cobblestones of the street. Guards with rifles stood stiffly on either side of the doorway as guests draped in silk and jewels flowed through the entryway.

The Governor’s Ball was the social event of the year, on this particular island. Anyone who was anyone would be in attendance, and droves of nobility from surrounding islands were invited as well. A forged invitation was tucked away in Nami’s own handbag, next to her lockpicks. 

Vinsmoke Reiju tilted her head to one side innocently, pink bangs falling across her forehead, and leisurely looked Nami up and down. She looked absolutely unbothered by the blue steel of Nami’s clima-tact pressed beneath her chin and against her raised wrists, pinning her to the cold stone of the wall behind her. She was wearing a dress, mostly black and patterned with a scattered spiral of little white flowers, hem just low enough to hide the numbers tattooed to her thighs. There were pink and white gemstones dangling from her earrings, and Nami didn’t doubt they were real. 

It occurred to Nami she was staring, and she forced herself to jerk her gaze back to Reiju’s eye, which was watching her with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. 

“I could ask the same of you,” Reiju said mildly. “I hadn’t heard any word of the Strawhat Pirates on this island, and I do keep an eye out. Are you here alone?”

Nami didn’t answer, narrowing her eyes and tightening her grip on her weapon, but Reiju smiled as if she’d given confirmation anyways. 

“My business here is nothing to do with you or your darling crew at all, don’t worry,” she said. “The island to the northeast has a king who’s made himself a surplus of enemies. A distasteful man who gets along well with other distasteful men. Someone has paid quite a lot of money to see him dead, but he’s rather paranoid and reclusive, which makes reaching him difficult… except, of course, for his annual attendance to this soiree, due to his close friendship with the governor.”

“So you’re here to assassinate him?” 

“Yes,” Reiju confirmed easily. “And yourself? It’s nothing to do with the governor’s famed collection of jewels, I presume?” 

Nami glared at her infuriatingly knowing smile and very, very pink lips for a moment longer before she sighed and lowered her staff, letting it contract back to baton size and quickly tucking it back into the leg holster concealed beneath her skirt. Her dress was sea-green and sleeveless, and she’d slit the sides herself to make it easier to run or fight in if need be. 

“I couldn’t resist, when I heard they’d be on display,” she admitted. “I asked my crew to drop me off. I’m almost disappointed by the security here, though. I thought this would be more of a challenge. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“I’ve heard the surveillance inside the mansion is bothersomely tight, however,” Reiju said, glancing around the corner to the steady stream of wealthy guests still flowing through the gates. “Perhaps the two of us can still help each other?”

Nami looked at her carefully. “What do you mean?” 

Reiju shrugged casually and smiled. “Two pretty women wandering about together will certainly arouse less suspicion than two individuals poking around separately. And I understand infiltration to be a specialty of yours. Care to be my date?” 

Nami’s first instinct was to reject the offer out of hand, but- well, she didn’t know anything about the security inside, and Reiju’s point was sound. And Reiju’s assassination attempt could potentially provide her a fantastic distraction for her theft, if she timed it right. 

(And Reiju was very, very pretty.)

“No strings attached,” Nami said. “I’m not responsible for making sure you get out of here in one piece. And don’t think you get a cut of the loot, either. Anything I steal is mine and mine alone.” 

“Fair terms,” Reiju conceded, and extended a crooked arm. “Shall we, then?” 

“Don’t get any ideas,” Nami said, combing her hair back into place with her fingers and checking her reflection in a puddle of stagnant water before slipping her arm into Reiju’s. “You might have helped us get out of Tottoland, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything, and I definitely don’t trust you.” 

“Of course,” Reiju agreed, sounding unbothered as they stepped back onto the street arm-in-arm, falling into step with a few other approaching guests. “Would ‘allies’ be more acceptable?” 

“Allies works,” Nami conceded before wincing. “Ugh, I sound like Torao.” 

“Hm?” 

Nami waved her hand. “Nevermind,” she said before breaking into a bright smile as they approached the doorway.

“Evening, ladies,” the guard said, bowing his head shallowly in deference, though Nami didn’t miss the way his eyes never left them. It seemed Reiju was right- they would be more watched than she’d anticipated. “Invitations, please.” 

Reiju pulled an invitation out and held it out for inspection, the ornate gold leaf lining glittering in the light. It was a really good forgery, even Nami had to admit- much more professional than the one she’d brought. Seeing it, she felt a sudden bolt of doubt as to whether her own invite would pass. She’d have to try something else to get past the guard.

“Princess Reiju Dokuyaku,” Reiju introduced herself with a thin smile, holding the small card almost like a weapon.

The guard inspected the card for a long moment, then nodded, turning to Nami. “And…?” 

“Her wife,” Nami interjected brightly, hanging off of Reiju’s arm and giving the guard a bubbly grin. This was an act she knew, though it had been awhile since she’d had to play it. She was pleased to note her acting skills hadn’t rusted at all. You never knew when they would come in handy. 

The guard gave her a considering look, then, “Right. Enjoy the party, my ladies. Be sure to ask security if you have any concerns,” he said, waving them past without another look. 

“Wife?” Reiju asked under her breath, a smile in her voice, as they proceeded into the foyer.

“Don’t get smug,” Nami muttered back, elbowing her. “My invite wouldn’t have passed and guards are less likely to question a spouse, that’s all.” 

“Hm,” Reiju said, pink lips curving up into a smile. “I can certainly think of worse fates.” 

It was just as well they stepped out into the ballroom just then, because Nami couldn’t think of a single clever rejoinder to that. 

The ballroom was massive, with a high, arcing ceiling and a sweepingly wide marble dance floor, polished so bright it shone. Everything from the windowsills to the chandeliers above was excessively ornate. Just looking at it made Nami’s fingers itch. The room was populated by guests wandering here and there, most in pairs or small groups, marveling at the decor or talking among themselves. 

“It doesn’t look like the jewels are on display yet,” Nami noted under her breath, straightening up to get a better look at the head of the room, where a collection of empty plinths stood. 

“Unsurprising, if they’re to be the centerpiece,” Reiju said, casting a look around. “It seems his majesty has yet to make an appearance as well.” She turned back to Nami, and her one visible eye glittered a little. “It seems we have some time to kill, no?” 

“Seems so,” Nami agreed, fluidly snagging a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s platter. Reiju grabbed her own as the man passed, and twirled the stem between her fingers. 

“Shall we toast?” Reiju asked. She hadn’t dropped her expression of quiet amusement once since entering the manor, and it was starting to get on Nami’s nerves. 

Nami arched a brow. “To crime?” 

Reiju laughed. “How about… to a lasting partnership?” 

“This is a one-night-only affair, Vinsmoke.” 

“I’ve found that one night can last a very long time, if one knows what one is doing,” Reiju said with a knowing smile that slipped right under Nami’s skin. She fought down the blush. It would have felt too much like conceding defeat.

“I suppose I can drink to that,” Nami conceded, and tapped her glass against Reiju’s. The high clink of crystal against crystal rang like a bell. “To mutual benefits.”

“Indeed,” Reiju said, smiling into her glass before taking a drink. Her vibrant lip gloss left a faint pink smudge on the rim of the glass, and Nami couldn’t seem to stop herself from noticing it. Her lips were the exact same shade of pink as her hair. 

She wondered if Reiju’s lip gloss was poisonous. Not for any particular reason. It just seemed prudent to know, in case… circumstances arose. 

They made their way across the room, winding through groups of chattering nobles and royals and other people of importance. Nami listened in on the conversations as they passed, hoping to hear something about the planned events of the night or perhaps some more word on the security measures, but most of the guests seemed more focused on recent pieces of gossip from the surrounding islands. 

Suddenly, as they were making their way past a small group of guests, the word pirate caught her ear, and she couldn’t help but slow down, changing course to drift over to the conversation, handing her now-empty champagne glass off to another waiter. Reiju followed her lead easily. 

“Oh, it’s just awful,” an older woman in a gaudy golden dress and a tiara on her forehead was lamenting. “The pirate activity has only gotten worse and worse in the past two years. It’s taking the most dreadful toll on my nerves.”

The man whose arm she was clinging to nodded solemnly. “It seems as though ever since the Paramount War, the world’s been in chaos.” 

“It’s all because of those feral dogs of the Worst Generation!” a younger woman dressed in green spoke up, voice sharp and unpleasant. “We were fine as we were before they started upsetting the natural order of things! Why can’t they just leave us be and live like law-abiding citizens like the rest of us? Rotten criminal scum.”

Nami had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything, and her hands curled into fists at her sides as she felt her face start to heat up. You have no idea, she wanted to say. You have no idea, you here in your jewels and your champagne and your guards at the door. You don’t know anything about him, you don’t know anything about us, you have no idea and no right-

A cool hand with shimmery pink nail polish, impeccably neat, settled on her bare shoulder, pulling her back to reality. “Pardon me,” Reiju said, taking a step forward and slipping effortlessly into the conversation, tugging the guests’ attention to her just as easily. “Terribly sorry to interrupt. Did I hear you were talking about pirates?”

“We certainly were!” the woman in green said. “Have you been reading the papers lately?”

“Yes, I pay very close attention to the world news,” Reiju said. “You have to, these days, mm? It’s so hard to keep track of it all. So hard to know who is on your side.”

“Goodness, yes,” said the older woman in gold. 

“And, why, if one isn’t well-informed, one could wind up being scared of absolutely everything, which seems to me like a positively pitiable existence,” Reiju continued, and Nami could tell at once the words weren’t meant for the guests, not really. 

She looked around at the guests again- well-dressed and wide-eyed and frightened and weak, and yes, maybe Reiju was right. You have no idea, she thought again, though this time there was no anger, just a dawning sort of comprehension. No idea at all. 

And they never would. They would never know the bone-deep fury of injustice or the glee of a successful escape, or the feeling of the ocean wind on sunburnt skin. Their worlds would never grow beyond these decorated rooms and tittering conversations, frightened of the pirates at their doors when they should have been worried about something else entirely. 

“Exactly!” the woman in green said with a firm nod, as though she had the slightest idea at all what she was agreeing to, and the conversation resumed, now thoroughly distracted from the topic of the Worst Generation and, by proxy, the Strawhat Pirates. 

Nami reached up to her shoulder to find Reiju’s hand and lace their fingers together. Reiju gently pulled her away from the conversation, and Nami let herself go.

“Thanks,” Nami said, once they were far enough away from the conversation. Out of the heat of the moment, she felt almost embarrassed of her almost-outburst. She’d never had near misses like that on her many infiltrations before becoming a pirate. 

It was strange to realize that, in the intervening time, she’d changed so deeply. Come to care so deeply. 

“I’m out of practice,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “I used to be a lot better at playing along.” 

Reiju was giving her a look that she couldn’t quite place, with a light in her blue eye that made her look all at once much more human. “It’s not a weakness to care about things,” she said. 

There was something more to those words than just what Reiju said, Nami could tell from the tightening in her shoulders and the sudden vulnerability in her voice, but she didn’t push, though she couldn’t help but wonder. It didn’t feel like the time or the place. 

Instead, she gave herself a long moment to catch her breath and regain her composure, until she was sure she wouldn’t turn back around to take a swing at that lady in green, and then smiled again. 

After all, this was shaping up to be an interesting night. She wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it for her. 

---

After they’d drifted between a few other (luckily more boring) conversations and shared a few more flutes of champagne apiece, Nami found her attention drifting towards the section of the marble floor where a few of the guests were dancing, turning in slow, careful circles to the accompaniment of a string quartet. 

Maybe it was down to the faint, warm hum of the alcohol in her system, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. “Want to dance?” 

Reiju looked surprised, but pleasantly so, her visible eye widening momentarily before she smiled. “I’d love to,” she said. Nami realized belatedly that Reiju’s hand was still in hers, her skin calmingly cool, as she led her over to the dance floor. 

“I ought to warn you, I don’t have much experience with dancing,” Reiju said, and true to her words, her movements were a little hesitant as she settled a hand on Nami’s waist, despite the easy grace with which she seemed to do everything. 

Nami blinked. “Really?” 

Reiju tipped her head. “Is that surprising?” 

Nami shrugged a little, absently adjusting Reiju’s loose grip on her hand to something more correct. This, at least, was something she could do in her sleep, after countless cruise ships and gaudy parties and ‘may I have this dance, miss?’ “I just assumed, since you’re royalty and all. And Sanji does.”

Reiju laughed, looking momentarily delighted. “Does he? Adorable. But… no, our father was never particularly concerned about our education in such areas,” she admitted, her expression shuttering slightly.

Ah. “Well, no problem,” Nami said. “I can teach you.”

Reiju’s smile softened. “I’d love that,” she said, and sounded sincere. 

The music was slow and classical, easy to move to. Despite her proclaimed inexperience, Reiju was a fast learner, quickly falling into rhythm with the music and Nami’s steps as she guided the both of them around the dance floor. The hem of her little black dress, decorated with flowers, twirled around her knees. 

Reiju was so very graceful. Nami couldn’t help but be almost envious of the easy balance with which she seemed to do everything. She was used to seeing it in Sanji, easily balancing armfuls of plates or snapping up a leg to catch a falling dish without missing a step, but something about the way Reiju moved practically turned her into poetry. 

Because there was really no avoiding it- Reiju was beautiful, all long legs and pink lips and unblemished skin. Nami kept catching herself staring, and it seemed like every time she did, Reiju’s knowing eyes caught hers. 

The more time she spent with Reiju’s cool hands in hers, Reiju’s perfectly lacquered nails against her skin, Reiju’s clever smile haunting her mind, she more she wanted to get her alone in a bed or against a wall and just-

Nami might have been a little in over her head. She had a bad habit, when it came to girls, their eyes and their smiles, and all the better if there was a taste of danger involved. She spun Reiju out, catching her by her fingertips and pulling her back in, and for half a second they were nearly nose-to-nose.

She really was stupid, letting herself get reeled in like this. 

She couldn’t even bring herself to regret it. 

They were three songs deep when a cavernous thunk sound reverberated through the ballroom, and they both stilled in place almost at once, looking up at the same time as all eyes turned to the massive doors at the entrance swinging shut. 

In front of them stood a thin man with a slick grey mustache, holding a microphone. 

“Ah, this will be our venerable host,” Reiju said. She was still tucked half against Nami’s chest, where she’d been when the music had stopped, and seemed disinclined to move. “It seems the party will now start in earnest.”

Nami could have scolded herself. She’d gotten so caught up in Reiju that she’d momentarily forgotten the greater situation- the jewels to be won, the heist to be made, the man somewhere in this crowd who would certainly be dead by the time the night was out. She had to force herself to drag her attention away from the woman pressed close against her and focus on the host as he began to speak.

“Honored guests,” he said, amplified voice rolling around the room. “It’s a pleasure to have you all here with me tonight, for the annual Governor’s Ball. It seems we’ve all arrived safely. Looking out now, I see plenty of old friends and new faces alike, and I hope you’ll all have a splendid time.”

“The schedule for this evening will be as follows: after a half hour of mingling, we will have some musical performances from some of the loveliest singers in the area, and then waiters will provide the main course followed by the presentation of the evening’s centerpiece- the crown jewels.”

“If you have any concerns at all, please bring them to me or one of our many esteemed security officers. Safety is a priority, especially with the recent pirate activity. My greatest wish is for you all to feel safe, fulfilled, and happy tonight. Please, enjoy the festivities!”

With that, he bowed, and a polite round of applause rose from the crowd of assembled guests. Nami glanced around and took fresh notice of the guards spaced along the walls. All armed. She was abruptly very glad for the cool, reassuring press of her compressed clima-tact against her thigh. 

“It would be better to get to the gems before they’re on display,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Reiju, quiet enough to be barely audible. “Those pedestals are very visible.” Anyone who drew too close to them would be almost immediately noticed by the guards, and most likely dealt with accordingly.

“By design, I’m sure,” Reiju agreed. “Shall we have a look about, then? They must already be somewhere in the manor.”

“Do you see your… target anywhere around here?” Nami asked. She glanced around, but it told her nothing- all of the faces here were unfamiliar. 

Reiju shook her head, one-eyed gaze roving watchfully over the crowd. “I don’t, but he must be here somewhere if all the guests are already arrived.” 

“What if he’s just not here this year?” 

Reiju hummed. “It’s possible. If that’s the case, I’ll just have to approach the problem with a bit more mess,” she said mildly, as though breaking in and murdering a paranoid king on his home turf was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “Even if so, though- the evening’s already been quite worth my while.” 

Nami arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

Reiju’s pink-painted lips curved up. “Mhm,” she hummed. 

A voice in the back of Nami’s mind whispered, You don’t need to be back with your crew until morning. You have a whole night ahead. 

“Shall we have a walk about, then?” Reiju said, extending a hand, and Nami took it before she could even begin to think twice. 

They slipped easily down one of the hallways that branched off of the main ballroom. It seemed all the rest of the mansion was just as lavishly decorated as the centerpiece room- tapestries depicting scenes of battle and bloodshed hung on the walls, spaced here and there with ornately-worked doors and windows, and lush carpeting muffled the sounds of their heels against the floor. Nami wondered just how many millions of beri surrounded them, built into the house itself, and couldn’t help a flash of bitter greed. 

At her side, Reiju made a small, half-amused noise. “Look at that. History being rewritten all around us.”

Nami glanced over at her. “What?” 

“Do you know anything about the history of this island?” 

Nami shook her head. “Only that there was a civil war… ten years ago? Right?”

“Indeed, though that’s only a fragment of the story,” Reiju said, nodding at the tapestries. “I’d advise you ask Nico-san at some point, she’d surely tell it better than I, but the simple version is that the former king of this island was deposed and his power seized by the honored governor who is hosting us tonight.” 

“By the few reputable accounts that exist, the king was a mild, unimpressive but decent man, who had maintained the peace for decades. The governor enlisted the help of the greedy ruler of a neighboring island- the same I’m aiming for tonight, as it happens- to aid him in his overthrow, and launched a surprise attack. The so-called civil war barely took a night. So, a question, Miss Navigator,” Reiju said, and gestured towards the hanging tapestries with an airy wave, “Just when did all these glorious battles take place?” 

Nami slowly pivoted in place, taking in the scenes woven around them. A man in a crown with bloodied hands and a wicked sneer; two armies, clashing in what looked to be a city center. She thought of Alabasta, and Vivi’s voice cracking with sobs. 

She exhaled, and pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well, I’m glad we’re about to rob him blind, then,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended. 

For the first time that night, Reiju’s smile had teeth. “I as well,” she said. 

Nami raised an eyebrow. “I thought you people didn’t care about-” she waved a hand- “morality.” 

“Says the pirate?” Reiju asked, sounding unbothered. Nami was beginning to wonder if anything at all offended her. “I’d think you of all people would understand that criminal acts don’t preclude an appreciation for justice, elusive though it is.”

“Fair enough,” Nami conceded. She opened her mouth to say something else when suddenly another voice reached her ears- around the next corner from them, and drawing steadily nearer. She paused in step immediately, listening intently, and saw Reiju doing the same. 

It was the voice of their host, the governor, the same voice that had been ringing around the ballroom not long before. There were two sets of footsteps. 

“...could make it,” the governor was saying. 

Nami glanced around and caught her eyes on the nearest door. She quickly sidestepped over to the wall, grateful that the carpet muted the clack of her heels, and eased the door open, luckily without needing to wrestle with it. It opened into a small closet, and Nami ducked inside without hesitation, yanking Reiju in after her and easing the door closed again just as the footsteps rounded the corner. 

The space was narrow- even with their backs against opposite walls, they were chest-to-chest. Just enough light eked in past the door for Nami to make out the outlines of Reiju’s face, very close to hers. 

Another voice said, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” and Nami could feel Reiju tense, just slightly. 

“That’s him,” she whispered in Nami’s ear, so faint it was barely an exhale, her breath warm on Nami’s skin.

“I’m glad you agreed to raise the security this year,” the second man- Reiju’s target, the king- continued. “I’m telling you, people are aiming for my life! I have reputable information!”

The governor chuckled. “Anything for my dear friend! I’ve told the guards to keep a special eye out for you, as well. You needn’t worry about a thing.” 

“You wouldn’t believe what a weight off my shoulders that is!” the king said with a laugh, as the two voices passed by the closet door without a pause, completely oblivious to the two women listening to their every word. 

“I understand how you feel, of course,” the governor said. “Security is a necessity, especially in these trying times. Why do you think I’m keeping my collection safely in my office for the next few hours?” 

Bingo. Nami grinned. She had her target. And Reiju had hers. 

The voices lapsed into silence after that, and as Nami waited for the footsteps to fade, she became increasingly aware of Reiju’s heart beating against her chest; of Reiju’s perfume, something like flowers and something like steel, filling the small space; of the faintest hint of light through the door catching on Reiju’s glossy pink lip gloss. 

Poison, she remembered dimly, and couldn’t bring herself to care even a little bit. 

“You know,” Reiju whispered, still hushed almost to inaudibility, “we have plenty of time.” 

Fuck it, Nami thought, and kissed her. 

It was clumsy, in the crowded darkness, off-center and uncertain at first, but Reiju responded immediately, pushing Nami back against the closet wall with her whole body weight, leaning into the kiss and deepening it into something that felt almost sinful. 

One of Nami’s hands was still around one of Reiju’s wrists, and she felt her way up the other woman’s arm and across her bare shoulders, finding the contours of her body in the darkness, pulling her close, holding her close. Reiju’s skin was cool, but her body was warm, pressed against Nami’s, chest to chest and hip to hip like puzzle pieces. Her hands closed around Nami’s upper arms, perfectly manicured nails pressing little crescents into her skin. 

It was the furthest thing from dignified, for all the silk they were draped in, for all the diamonds hanging from Reiju’s ears. Outside there was a party, and a horde of jewels to steal, but in the moment Nami couldn’t care about any of it, with Reiju’s mouth on hers, Reiju’s lip gloss on her tongue and on her teeth. 

She tasted like strawberries. Nami felt like she could have got drunk on that taste alone. 

After what felt like the best forever Nami had ever known, Reiju pulled away just long enough to whisper, sounding just a little out of breath, the most she had all night, “I was wondering when you were going to kiss me.”

Nami snorted into the crook of Reiju’s shoulder, pressing lips against her skin. “And how was it?” she asked, unable to keep a spark of knowing out of her voice. She knew damn well that she was good at kissing girls.

“Delicious,” Reiju murmured emphatically, something irresistibly heavy in her voice, and Nami found her lips in the darkness and kissed her again and again. 

She couldn’t have said whether it was ten or twenty or fifty minutes later that they eventually pulled apart, her arms on Reiju’s back and Reiju’s hands on her shoulders, the both of them dizzy and thoroughly kissed. Nami leaned against the wall at her back while she caught her breath, Reiju still flush against her chest, their breath and perfume mingling together in the narrow space.

For a long, long moment, she just rested there, and felt the rise and fall of Reiju’s chest against hers, the press of her hands and the tickle of her hair against her bare shoulder and neck.

This was already a far better night than she could ever have dreamed of, and she hadn’t even laid hands on a single gem. The weight and warmth of Reiju in her arms was easily worth the governor’s entire horde. 

“We’ve got work to do,” Nami eventually said, and didn’t move. 

“Mhm,” Reiju hummed. “When do you need to be back with your crew?” 

“Not until morning.”

She could feel Reiju smile against her shoulder. “So why don’t we get our work done, get out of here… and then see what we can do with the rest of the night, hm?” 

Nami grinned into the darkness, feeling excitement bubble through her veins like champagne- at the prospect of getting away clean with jewels dripping from her hands, at the thought of Reiju’s dress on the floor. “Sounds like heaven.”

---

The plan was relatively simple. Nami would make her way up to the governor’s office, circumventing security to help herself to the gems before they were put on display, and once she was out she would trip the alarm on purpose to cause chaos enough downstairs for Reiju to pull off her kill in the resulting confusion- which, in turn, would kick up a fresh panic and facilitate their escape.

To mutual benefits. She licked her lips idly and tasted strawberry as she made her way down the hall. 

The security was much lighter outside the main ballroom where the guests were gathered, which made evading the notice of what few guards there were a piece of cake, especially for an experienced infiltrator. The guests were allowed free reign of the mansion, of course, but if she was found poking around on her own there would be questions, and more attention on her than she wanted. 

In the end, the governor’s third-floor office was easy to find, and nearly as easy to slip into. There was a single bored-looking guard pacing back and forth in front of the door, but getting past him proved to just be a matter of waiting until he ducked out onto the balcony for a surreptitious smoke break and then picking the lock on the door. 

The room was filled with cabinets upon cabinets of jewels, resting on velvet cushioning and lit by built-in lights. They were positioned along both sides of the long room, so that whoever was sitting at the desk at the head of the office with their back to the picture window had a full view of all the riches on display. 

The cabinets were alarmed, obviously, but seeing the thin tangles of wires and triggers just made Nami’s grin grow as she fished her penknife from her purse and a couple more bobby pins from her hair. It had been a long time since she’d had to challenge herself like this, and there was something exhilarating about it. 

When she had worked for Arlong, every theft had been overshadowed by the constant count running in the back of her mind, dragged down by the weight of the money buried in Bellemere’s tangerine orchard: five million, ten, thirteen, twenty million, a fifth of the way there, twenty-six-

But now she was free. She could breathe, and everything she took was hers and hers alone, rather than payment towards a promise that would never be honored. With the constant suffocating stress of desperation gone, she could finally enjoy the thrill of the job in its fullest. 

It tasted like strawberries. 

One by one, she carefully disconnected the alarms, tongue between her teeth in concentration, and set them aside. Sliding the window of the first cabinet open sent tingles of electricity up her arms, vibrant and bright. 

The first piece she retrieved was a necklace of pearls, each bead perfectly round and glinting ivory under the cabinet lights. She draped the strand around her neck and rolled her shoulders, savoring the silky feel of the pearls against her skin. It reminded her of the feel of Reiju’s hand in hers, cool and smooth and pale as porcelain.

The riches disappeared steadily into her purse, the occasional particularly gorgeous accessory making its way onto her person instead; a golden cuff around her upper arm, a tiara set with diamonds atop her head. Before long, she had the shelves on both sides of the room cleared, gems glittering and spilling from the mouth of her overstuffed purse. 

The only thing left was the centerpiece of the collection, resting in a small case on the governor’s desk- a heavy cushion-cut diamond that put stars in Nami’s eyes just from looking.

She pulled her shoes off, tossing them aside- far easier to run in bare feet than in heels. 

In one smooth movement, she pulled her clima-tact from beneath her dress and snapped it open to its full length, smashed the alarmed case enclosing the diamond with a single sharp swing, grabbed the jewel with her free hand as the lights went dim and alarms began to sing out, and ran. 

Three minutes, Reiju had said. She just needed to give her three minutes. 

She started counting off the seconds in her head as she slammed the office door open again, no longer bothering with the pretense of subtlety. The guard who’d been watching the hallway was caught stunned with his hand halfway to his gun, and Nami wasted no time clubbing him across the head with her staff, not even bothering with the weather features. 

He collapsed like a rag doll and she took off down the hallway, barefoot and bright-eyed, as more heavy footsteps approached around the corner. With the pins that had been holding her hair up gone, her updo came undone, long tangled curls of orange falling free down her back and over her shoulders. 

Twenty… twenty-one… twenty-two… 

She was Reiju’s distraction. Reiju was her escape route. Ordinarily she wouldn’t trust anyone outside of her crew for something like that, but, well. Even untrusting as she was, she’d always been a sucker for a pretty women with sharp smiles. Carina was proof enough of that. (She never did learn.)

She tossed a lightning bolt over her shoulder as two more guards rounded the corner, and turned down another hallway to the accompaniment of their shouting. There were more coming, stampeding up the stairs- the ballroom below must have been in absolute chaos, abandoned by the guards and full of panicked wealthy guests. A perfect setting for an assassination. 

Nami had always been good at escaping. She’d learned to be good, over years and years where her only true weapons were her feet and her mind. There was a reason they called her a cat. 

She dodged around corners and ducked through doors, obscuring sightlines, always careful not to lose her footing, not to back herself into a corner. The guards were thickest at the tops of the stairs, gathering there to block off her exits and wait for her to run right into them, but they were bound for disappointment. She’d never meant to leave down the stairs. 

One hundred seventy-four… seventy-five… seventy-six… 

She rounded a corner to the front of the house. There was an ornate floor to ceiling-picture window there, overlooking the streets below. It ran in long panels all along the stretch of hall, providing a truly stunning view of the city at night. It must have been very expensive. 

Nami twisted her staff and unleashed a focused hurricane of gale-force wind that shattered it to glittering dust in an instant, not even pausing in her stride as the cool night wind rushed in. In a matter of moments, what had been a wall of glass had become an emergency exit. Two more strides took her to the lip of the void, standing on the edge between the bright, ornate mansion at her back and the dark night sky before her.

She glanced over her shoulder to wink at the guards as they rounded the corner, as they skidded to a halt almost as one to keep their momentum from carrying them out the broken window, as their eyes widened in realization.

Then she jumped. 

For a moment, she was in freefall, night air rushing past her, silky turquoise skirt and tangled orange hair and gleaming strings of pearls all trailing behind her like a comet’s tail as she dropped towards the cobblestones below. 

A soft laugh; a flash of pink.

A pair of arms closed around her, holding her close, gently bringing her fall to a stop ten feet off the ground, suspended in midair. Gunfire rattled out, flashing from the broken window, thudding harmlessly into the sweeping purple butterfly wings of Reiju’s raid suit, fanned out behind them, shielding them. 

“Playing it a bit close there, weren’t we?” Reiju said, smiling despite her words. Her little black dress had disappeared in favor of her raid suit, sleek and revealing, and there was a splatter of blood high on one of her cheekbones. 

Nami grinned, wrists trailing sapphires and silver as she looped her arms around Reiju’s neck, drunk and giddy on gold and diamonds and the lingering taste of strawberries and champagne, and said, “I like to live dangerously.”

“Spoken like a pirate,” Reiju said, eye bright with amusement. “Shall we take our leave of this dull affair, then?” 

“Let’s,” Nami agreed, and Reiju swung her easily up into a princess carry and kicked off of thin air, soaring gracefully through the night sky, the panicked commotion of the party and the rattle of gunfire quickly fading behind them. The night sky was clear and bright above them, scattered with stars, and the city’s nightlife glowed beneath their feet. 

She pulled herself up to press a kiss to Reiju’s cheek, and smiled when she felt a soft laugh run through the other woman’s body. Diamonds in the stars above and lights below and spilling from her purse, and diamonds hanging from Reiju’s ears, and Nami could have lived in that moment forever.

---

Reiju’s hotel room was a penthouse, the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city, because if there was one trait she shared with her brother it was an inability to do things halfway. The noise and light of the chaos at the governor’s manor was far-away and faded now, leaving them alone in the peaceful darkness of the room, sitting side by side on the silky sheets and trading smiles.

It would take time to mount a search, in a city of this size. They’d be gone by morning, long before they could be discovered. 

For now, they had the night. 

They’d both undressed; Reiju’s raid suit was gone, leaving her in just her underwear, the bold black of the tattoos on her legs standing out like a crime scene against the flawless smoothness of her skin. Nami couldn’t help but be reminded of a different tattoo, a mark of ownership written in dark blue ink, sharp and cruel and irrevocable.

“Nami,” Reiju said thoughtfully after a long stretch of comfortable silence, staring out the wide glass balcony windows to the city below. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Nami said, resting her hand on Reiju’s on the sheets, stolen rings cool on her fingers. Reiju leaned against her bare shoulder in answer, her skin pleasantly cool while Nami’s was still flushed from exertion. 

“What’s it like to be a pirate?” 

“Mmm,” Nami hummed, thinking for a second. How did you even begin to answer a question like that? It should have been impossible, and yet the words fell from her tongue easily. “Being a pirate is… freedom. It’s living exactly how you want to and chasing your dreams no matter what they are, no matter what the world tries to tell you.”

She smiled, soft and unconscious. “But it’s also finding people to share that dream with, who’ll go to the end of the world with you. There are captains who don’t see it that way- like Big Mom, or-” Arlong, she bit her tongue down on the name, and swallowed before continuing, “...but if you’ve got a good captain, and a good crew, and a good ship… I think it’s the best life there is.”

“...It sounds lovely,” Reiju murmured after a moment. There was an almost mournful kind of look on her face, something sad and something longing, lit dimly in profile by the light of the city below. 

Something about that look, about the absence of the knowing gleam that had sparkled in Reiju’s eyes all night, pushed her to blurt, before she could think better of it, “Are you happy?”

Reiju blinked, like she hadn’t been expecting Nami to say anything, like she’d forgotten she was there entirely for a moment, before she sighed and shook her head. “You Strawhats,” she said, sounding fond. “What is it about you? ” 

She was quiet a moment longer before she looked over, met Nami’s gaze, and smiled. There was something different about it this time, Nami couldn’t help but think. The teasing playfulness from earlier was gone, replaced by something warmer and much more honest. “I’m happy right now,” she said. “And that’s enough.”

And then, with a corner of her mouth curving up, as she reached over to prop her arms on Nami’s shoulders and lean close, “And there’s still hours before dawn.” 

Nami couldn’t help but smile back, wild and free, as Reiju leaned in to kiss her with all the exhilaration of escape. They tumbled back into bed together, orange hair fanning out over sink sheets and Reiju’s body warm and cold all at once and Reiju’s lips tasting like strawberries, and she couldn’t stop smiling. 

The sheets were silk and the room was dark and lit by the city below, and it turned out Reiju had been right; if one knew what one was doing, one night could last a very long time. 

---

They left the hotel just before sunrise, slipping out of the city and down to the docks unnoticed in the soft grey light of earliest morning. The ocean was lapping gently against the rocky shore and the wooden beams of the pier, a sound that had long since come to mean home to Nami’s ears. 

Reiju didn’t ask for a ride, and Nami didn’t offer one. That had been the terms of the affair from the start, after all; a one-night alliance. No strings attached. 

But Reiju did say, “I hope I’ll see you again?” That playful spark was back in her eyes, but there was something softer there too, something more honest, some remnant of that briefly vulnerable moment they’d shared. 

“Count on it,” Nami said with a grin, and Reiju kissed her once more and was gone, stealing away back down the pier without a backwards glance, leaving Nami with a purse full of gemstones and a smile too wide on her face. 

She could see the silhouette of the Sunny approaching, muted by the early morning fog; come to steal her away again and bring her home, to her crew, to the next adventure. 

She licked her lips, and savored the taste of strawberries. 

[captains-log-reviews]

Disney’s Peter Pan (1953)

Summary/Overview:

I’ve been considering a Hook-themed review blog for some time now, and what better way to start off than with the classic 1953 Disney film? Originally slated to be Disney’s second animated film after Snow White, the idea for a production of Peter Pan was in Walt’s mind long before it hit the big screen. Walt himself had played Peter in a school play as a boy and had retained a fondness for the story ever since. The first major film version to feature a boy (Bobby Driscoll) in the titular role, Disney’s Peter Pan has since become perhaps even more widely known than Barrie’s original. That being said, I think it’s probably unnecessary to give much in the way of a summary, but for the sake of developing a consistent format for my reviews, here’s the super quick version:

Wendy Darling, a young girl with an active imagination and a love for storytelling, is distraught when her practical father decides that it is time for her to grow up and move out of the nursery with her brothers. Later that night, after her parents have gone out, Peter Pan—the flying boy hero of Wendy’s stories—shows up at her window and offers to take her and her brothers to Neverland, a magical island with mermaids, “Indians,” and pirates where they will never grow up. Unfortunately the kids get caught up in the plans of Captain Hook, who wants revenge on Peter for cutting off his hand and feeding it to a crocodile. Ultimately, Hook captures the children and nearly kills Peter with a bomb in the guise of a present from Wendy, but Tinkerbell, Peter’s loyal fairy friend, saves him just in the nick of time, allowing Peter to free the children from Hook’s crew and fight the captain in a final duel that results in Hook being chased off into the sunset by the crocodile. Wendy and her brothers return home safely, and Wendy realizes that she isn’t so afraid of growing up anymore...only to have her father admit that maybe holding onto her childhood a little bit longer wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

What I Liked:

Those of you who followed me over here from my other Hook blog, not-wholly-unheroic, already know that I am more than slightly biased when it comes to Disney’s Hook. I distinctly remember the first time I saw him on screen when I was twelve. The sequel had just come out on video, and ABC was doing its usual Sunday Disney movie (and advertising) by showing the original Peter Pan one weekend, followed by the sequel the next. I was bored and had never watched the film before, so I decided to give it a shot...and I was instantly struck by how different Hook was from any Disney villain I’d previously encountered. While most of the classic villains are motivated by greed, vanity, or the desire for power, Hook’s feud with Pan is at least somewhat justified considering he not only lost a hand but also faces the constant threat of the crocodile as a result of our supposed hero’s actions. Additionally, prior to Peter Pan, Disney’s major villains (Queen Grimhilde/The Evil Queen, Lady Tremaine, the Queen of Hearts) were typically rather flat and lacking in personality. We see only their wicked side (or in the case of “Man” in Bambi, we don’t see them at all!). Hook is a major departure from this trend in that while he is clearly made out to be the bad guy, we also see him in moments of fear, weakness, and self-doubt. We see him sick and in pain and ready to give up at times. Suddenly, he isn’t just a villain anymore... He’s a person we can empathize with. Walt himself recognized that the audience would “get to liking Hook” would not want him to die as he does in Barrie’s canon, opting instead to have him “going like hell” to get away from the crocodile but ultimately still very much alive at the end of the film.

Aside from Hook himself, I love the dynamic he has with Mr. Smee. While Hook admittedly doesn’t treat Smee well, there is clearly a bond of trust between them. Early on in the film, for instance, Smee prepares to shave Hook with a straight razor. It’s a moment that is ultimately used for comedic effect, but when one considers that Hook has a crew full of literal cutthroats, it says a lot about Smee that Hook feels totally at ease with this man putting a blade to his neck. Smee repeatedly attempts to intervene to save Hook when he doesn’t have to, and Hook unfailingly looks to Smee when he’s afraid for his life or when he needs to send someone out to complete an important mission for him. It’s a villain/sidekick dynamic that borders on friendship, and I think it adds a lot to the film and to Hook’s complexity as a character.

As far as artistic choices go, it is a rather minor thing, but I love that they kept the stage tradition of using the same actor for both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook, giving the film a rather dreamlike feel and subtly reinforcing the enmity Wendy feels toward her father in real life as she faces off against Hook in the Neverland. Speaking of the actor, Hans Conried isn’t just voice for Hook, as many would assume... He IS Hook as much as any live-action actor could be. I love the old hand-drawn animation style and how they used to use the actors as live-action reference models. (You can see some shots of Hans as the reference model vs the final images of Hook in the film here.) If you’ve ever seen a recording of Hans in one of his other roles, you’ll notice he doesn’t just SOUND like Hook...he makes the same facial expressions (particularly in how he speaks with his eyebrows) and hand/arm motions. It’s small details like this that make Hook (and all the characters) more human and show just how much time, effort, and love the animators put into their work.

What I Didn’t Like:

RACISM. With a capital “R.” There’s no sugar-coating it. Unfortunately, Disney’s film falls victim one of the many problematic tropes of the time when it was made and portrays the island’s native characters as highly caricatured, ignorant, and—in the case of Tiger Lily—romantically exotic people. Their signature song, “What Made the Red Man Red” is lyrically painful to modern listeners with any sense of decency, and the villagers’ character design—from their bright red skin to their large noses and often extreme body shapes (very fat or pencil thin)—along with their badly broken English is highly uncomfortable, to say the least. On the other hand, Tiger Lily, the most realistically drawn native character, is shown dancing flirtatiously for Peter and subsequently rubbing noses with him in what is meant to be a sort of native kiss (based on the concept of the “Eskimo kiss” which in and of itself is not a politically correct term).

Aside from the glaringly obvious issue of racism, my only real complaint with the Disney film is the music. While the songs are pretty standard for films of the day, I personally don’t find most of the music particularly memorable or catchy. “You Can Fly” is alright, I suppose, but the next few songs have their issues. “Following the Leader” and “What Made the Red Man Red” both have racist undertones, and Wendy’s lullaby, “Your Mother and Mine” puts the kids to sleep for a reason... It’s sweet but rather boring and drags on for far too long to keep the audience’s attention. Less time on the lullaby and more pirate sea shanties, please!

On the flip side, Hook is arguably the first Disney villain to get his own theme song, which is pretty cool. The original pirate song (which you can find here) is a bit more sedate than “The Elegant Captain Hook” we end up with and focuses more on the joys of pirating in general than why Hook, specifically, is someone the kids should want to work for. Personally, I’m glad they chose the song that they did, though I do wish they’d given Hook more lines as originally planned. (You can find the lyrics to the full version here.)

Would I recommend it?

Despite its flaws, Disney’s Peter Pan has had a major impact on the legacy of Peter Pan and how we view the characters as well as Neverland itself. It has long been a personal favorite of mine and acted as a gateway into the fandom for me. It introduced me to Hook as a likable, sympathetic, and complex villain and I’ll always be grateful for that. I definitely recommend it to anyone entering the fandom, those with a fondness for the nostalgia of classic Disney films, and kids at heart of all ages.

Overall Rating:

As much as I love the film and want to give it a perfect score, I’d be remiss if I didn’t deduct at least a few points for the depiction of the “Indians.” Otherwise a lovely version of the story so... 4/5 stars

[sirloozelite]

Hi! I have a chapter/prompt idea for you. Remember the line in the Ahsoka book that goes... “what do you even know about family?” Kaeden said. “You never had one. And you probably never had friends, either. Just clones who had to do everything you said, because you were their superior officer.” Would love to see Ahsoka and Kaeden talk about it in a prompt/chapter. It really struck a nerve in me. The Jedi and clones were Ahsoka’s family and majority of them died... :(

Hey anon, hope you didn’t mind the wait for the reply. Wanted to get it all good and everything. I took your idea and ran with it a bit. It might not be 100% what you wanted, but I hope you liked what I did do. Thanks for the prompt. Feel free to send more my way. Same goes for the rest of you. XD

1: Kaeden and Ahsoka speak about family

"Hey, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Ahsoka Tano was no expert at romance. There was a reason many of her closest friends, her girlfriend included, often referred to her as the 'Queen of being Dense'. Nine times out of ten she missed the subtle social cues that usually indicated that something was wrong, or that something shouldn't be investigated or talked about.

Of course though, Ahsoka just had to be the person who would break all of those rules! She blamed her time as an undercover spy.

That said, even she knew when something was bothering someone, and by the way Kaeden has suddenly sunk onto the couch next to her, her posture slouched in despair and her tone grim, it was something bad.

And as Kaeden Larte's girlfriend, it was Ahsoka's job to find out what the problem was!

"What's up?" Ahsoka replied as she bookmarked the page of the 'Book of Hondo', setting it aside for later, before moving closer to Kaeden, one arm wrapping round the human woman.

Kaeden didn't answer immediately, though she did raise her head from where she had been staring at the floor blankly. Her eyes, usually so bright with joy and focus, and sometimes mischievousness, instead seemed to have a dark shadow to them, as if something was haunting the gateway to her soul.

"Kaeden? Talk to me."

"I need to apologise to you."

That surprised Ahsoka! What did Kaeden possibly have to apologise for? If anything Ahsoka was the one that should be apologizing on a daily basis for all the crazy stunts she pulled.

Still, whatever Kaeden felt like she had to apologize for was clearly eating her up inside, so Ahsoka didn't hesitate to respond.

"I forgive you."

"No! I… you don't even know what I'm apologizing for!

"I know… but I already forgive you."

"Please Ahsoka… just… just let me speak."

Ahsoka didn't miss the way Kaeden had winced as Ahsoka had 'forgiven' her without blinking an eye. The thought that Kaeden thought that Ahsoka wouldn't forgive her hurt the Togruta. Did Kaeden not know how special she was to Ahsoka?

"Ok Kaeden… ok. What do you need to apologize for?"

Kaeden lowered her head for a few seconds as she contemplated how to phrase whatever was on her mind. Ahsoka didn't want to rush her, but every moment that passed was hell for the Togruta. She hated seeing anyone suffer, double so for Kaeden.

"About Raada. About what I said to you when you first revealed your Force powers. I said you didn't know what it was like to have a family. That all you had were Clones to boss around because you were their commanding officer. I was wrong to say that, and I was wrong to say you didn't know what it meant to have a family and I'm so sorry for what I said to you."

Ahsoka's eyes widened. She had honestly forgotten that Kaeden had ever said such a thing! Had she really said something that could have been taken in such a cruel way?

Memories came back to Ahsoka, one of an angry Kaeden surrounded by her friends and sister on Raada, accusing her of not helping them fight the Empire more, of not doing enough!

But even back then, Ahsoka had remembered not being angry at the words. She had understood, and in some ways she agreed. What did Ahsoka know about a true family? She had been taken from hers at three years of age after all.

"What's brought this on Kaeden?" Ahsoka asked quietly, pulling the human woman closer to her, resting her head atop Kaeden's, hoping it offered some comfort. From the way Kaeden leaned in closer as well, Ahsoka could tell it was having some sort of positive effect.

"I was speaking to Rex. I told him what I said to you and he… well he didn't take it too well to say the least."

Ahsoka didn't even realize she had frozen up until she felt Kaeden's palm gently wrap around her own, squeezing intently as a reminder that she was still there. Ahsoka couldn't help the build up of anger at herself that occurred suddenly. She was supposed to be comforting Kaeden… not the other way around!

"What did Rex say?" Ahsoka inquired, worried that her girlfriend had just inadvertently made an enemy out of her oldest and most trusted friend.

"He called me unreasonable and said I was damned lucky to have you. He said if anyone ever hurt his little sister he would kill them, then clone them just so he could kill them again. I don't think he was even kidding!"

Once more Ahsoka's eyes widened at Kaeden's recount of Rex's words. In all honesty, she wasn't that surprised about ex's reaction. The old Clone Captain was fiercely territorial and defensive when it came to people he saw as his brothers and family, and in Ahsoka's case, his little sister.

There was a time Ahsoka could recall that all of the Clones in the 501st saw her that way. Rex was always willing to teach her, to help her improve herself.

Fives was always willing to joke around with her. He had taught her how not to succumb to the pressures of command.

Echo had taught her how to be patient, how to follow procedure when it mattered most. Losing him at the Citadel had been a major blow for them all.

Kix and Coric had taught her how to save people in more ways than one. It didn't matter that they weren't always out fighting, as they fought the most dangerous and formidable foe in existence on a daily basis and won. Combating death was one hell of a task after all.

It wasn't just the boys in the 501st that had taught her either. Both Cody and Wolffe had given her new perspective on things. Through their teachings and encouragement, she had learned how to adapt on the fly, how to improvise, and most importantly, how to get the job done.

And then there were the rest. Hardcase had taught her to be bold. Waxer and Boil had taught her the importance of companionship. Dogma had taught her to have faith and not lose it.

And Jesse had taught her how to be cautious. It was not the lesson she wished she had learnt from him, but it was the most important one of her life, one she had carried with her as Fulcrum. When Order 66 had been issued, and Jesse turned on her and Rex, Ahsoka had no choice but to act.

There were nights where she still saw the Arc Trooper in her dreams, impaled on a burning green blade, mere seconds away from murdering Rex in cold blood. She did not regret her actions, but she wished how they had been different.

If only things had been different.

"He was right of course. The Clones, despite being your subordinates, were your family. Rex told me about them all. About Fives and Echo, Jesse and Hardcase. Hell he even introduced me to Kix. And then there's the Jedi too!"

Ahsoka listened as Kaeden continued on, recalling more and more of her discussion with Rex, which sounded like had gotten more civil after the old Clone's initial hostility.

"And then Rex told me about the Jedi he knew, about the one's he knew had a strong bond with you. I'm sorry about Master Plo Koon, Ahsoka. I wish I could have met him. He sounded wonderful."

"He really was." Ahsoka couldn't help but reply, her fond memories of the Kel Dor coming to her mind. How she wished he was still here.

"He also told me about Anakin. And Senator Amidala too."

Ahsoka tried not to stiffen at the mention of her former Jedi Master. Even now he was a sore spot, for both her and Rex. How Obi-Wan was able to forgive and forget was unknown to her. She really wished she had his patience and understanding sometimes.

But then she hadn't been there at the end, and Obi-Wan had. Perhaps he knew something she didn't.

"I know you hate him Ahsoka, and no one blames you for it, but from what Rex told me he was like your father figure in many ways. I can't imagine what it was like to have to kill him."

It had been hard at the time…. but like with Jesse it had been necessary. Ahsoka had had to make a difficult decision with the information she had… just as Anakin had taught her too as a Padawan.

And Padmé? Padmé had taught her to trust in her actions, and to know right from wrong.

Ahsoka really hoped that the Senator would be proud of her if she was still alive.

"So I'm sorry. I was wrong to say you didn't know what it was like to have a family, because you did have one. It was just very different from mine." Kaeden finished, squeezing Ahsoka's hand again whilst waiting for the Togruta's response.

Wasting no time and already knowing how she was going to respond, Ahsoka brought her free hand up to Kaeden's cheek, gently pulling the woman's face towards her before placing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Pulling back, Ahsoka rested her forehead on Kaeden's and spoke.

"As I said, you are already forgiven, forever and always. My family may have been different from yours, but back then you had every right to say what you did. I may have lost that family, but now I have a new one in you."

The way Kaeden's face lit up with a small smile was all the response Ahsoka needed. If Kaeden was happy, so was she.

"I…. ok… thanks Ahsoka. I feel like I understand you better now thanks to Rex. I wish I could have met all of your old family."

"Me too Kaeden. Me too." Ahsoka replied, banishing any thoughts of the fate of her old family from her mind. It would not do her well to dwell on the past. Right now all she wanted to focus on was the present.

And that present was Kaeden Larte.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

The Bridge of the Demonic Goatman (Part 1)

I thought of this a while back (specifically in the form of a hilarious mental image), and decided, “What the hell? I’m gonna write this.” It’s basically me combining two things I’m currently trash for (KISS and Buzzfeed Unsolved) into an AU, where my target audience is... well, me. On a side note, if you haven’t watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I would definitely recommend it! It’s a great show, and they do episodes on true crime as well as supernatural cases. Here’s the link to the original episode if you want to watch it. Hope you enjoy!

Due to the sheer length of this story (it’s twenty fucking pages in the Word document), I’m going to have to post this in two parts. This is Part 1. Part 2 will go up tomorrow because it’s 11:30 PM rn and I’m too fucking tired to deal with this crap anymore.

Basic AU summary: It’s Buzzfeed Unsolved, but hosted by Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Vinnie Vincent. Gene is the believer of the supernatural, Paul is the skeptic, and Vinnie is the neutral third party (although he does like to join Paul in messing with Gene when they’re on a ghost hunt). 

Commentary text: 

Paul

Gene

Vinnie (apparently Tumblr doesn’t offer yellow as a color)

Something said in unison (who says it will also be in parentheses)

----

[cold open: camera is in the backseat of a car between the driver and passenger seats, looking through the windshield at the twilight sky. GENE is driving while PAUL is in the passenger seat. Soft haunting piano music plays over the footage]

PAUL: Almost there, Gene… you nervous?

GENE: I’ll probably be more nervous when we get there. How about you?

PAUL: [gestures out at the sunset] How can I be nervous with a sunset like that?

VINNIE: Ah, but remember, Paul. [camera cuts to VINNIE, who is sitting in the backseat] Eventually, the sun will be gone from the sky, leaving us in the foreboding dark of night. Then you’ll be nervous.

PAUL: [turns to look at Vinnie] How poetic.

VINNIE: Thank you.

PAUL: What about you, are you nervous?

VINNIE: Uh… [shrugs] kinda. I mean, we’re potentially going to see a demon.

PAUL: Potentially.

GENE: Don’t worry, Vin. I’ll protect ya.

VINNIE: You say that now, and yet if we actually see it, you’ll probably be cowering behind me and reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

GENE: How can I do that when you’re such a midget?

[Paul laughs. Vinnie leans forward and smacks Gene’s arm.]

[Smash cut: it is now nighttime. Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now walking through a forest, the only light being from the flashlights coming from the night-vision cameras they are holding. Camera focuses on an old-looking wooden bridge with newer-looking red metal ledges. Gene shines his flashlight on a nearby sign that has text and the Texas state government symbol. The title reads OLD ALTON BRIDGE.]

GENE: Well, here it is. The bridge.

[Cut: Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now standing at the foot of the bridge.]

GENE: Ready?

PAUL: Yep.

VINNIE: Yep.

GENE: … Paul, you go first.

PAUL: [scoffs at Gene and steps up onto the bridge] Okay.

VINNIE: [steps up onto the bridge and turns to Gene expectantly] C’mon, Gene.

GENE: [sighs then mumbles] God dammit… [slowly steps up onto the bridge]

VINNIE: [grinning at him] See, that wasn’t so hard.

GENE: Shut up, Vinnie.

[camera follows the three as they walk across the bridge, swinging their camera flashlights around. It is so dark that the only parts we can see of the bridge are what shows up in the beams of the flashlights; the rest can only be vaguely made out. Haunting music continues]

PAUL: I’ll be honest, I was kind of expecting something more… I dunno, intimidating, I guess? But no, this seems like a pretty standard bridge. [jumps up and down on it] Sturdy, too.

VINNIE: It’s a little scary, I guess. Though, the fact that we’re here when it’s nighttime probably has a factor in that. In the day time, this probably wouldn’t be scary at all.

[they reach the middle of the bridge]

GENE: Well, now that we’re on the bridge, I guess I should tell you why this bridge is so notorious.

[Vinnie nods]

PAUL: Okay. Enlighten us, Gene.

[haunting music stops. Gene stares at Paul, who looks calmly back at him]

GENE: Can you even look a little bit worried? Or just… you know what, never mind.

[Intro sequence, then title card]

[Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now sitting on the foot of the bridge. From left to right: Gene, Vinnie, Paul]

VINNIE: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate Old Alton Bridge, aka the Goatman’s Bridge, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, “Are ghosts real?”

GENE: [nods at the camera]

PAUL: [shakes his head at the camera]

VINNIE: [shrugs at the camera] Well, we may find out tonight. Gene?

GENE: Although that is our overall question, this bridge and the woods surrounding it are said to harbor something much more sinister than ghosts.

PAUL: [sounding maybe too light given the context] Demons!

GENE: [rolls his eyes but nods] Yeah, demons. As we’ve stated before, I will only consent to one demon episode per season, and this is that episode.

PAUL: You look pretty nervous. [looks to the camera and points at Gene] I dunno if you guys can tell, but Gene is looking pretty nervous right now. He’s just good enough of an actor that only Vinnie and I can tell.

VINNIE: I think we’re all a little nervous, to be fair. Just sitting on the foot of the bridge is making me feel slightly nervous. [pause in which he looks over at Gene and laughs] You’ve got kind of a glazed look, Genie.

GENE: I just—okay, I am getting kind of nervous. Let’s just get this over with.

PAUL: All right. Let’s get to the background stuff so we can dive right into the summoning part and see if any of us get possessed and/or murdered.

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

GENE: … Please don’t put it like that, Paul.

[Paul laughs]

[screen cuts away from the three to a black background with the shape of the state of Texas in white. Text and images appear on screen as Gene’s voice narrates]

GENE [voiceover]: In 1884, Old Alton Bridge was built in Denton, Texas, to connect the town of Alton to Denton. Alton was an extremely small town that consisted of only one person when it was established in 1848.

Wait, there was only one person in the entire town?

Yep.

Seriously? One person? And that was enough for it to be a town?

Yeah. One person.

*wheeze* Ha ha, that’s great.

Also, isn’t Denton the town from Rocky Horror Picture Show? The one Brad and Janet are from?

Oh yeah, it is! Oh my God, what if we did the Time Warp on the bridge?

Oh hell yeah, let’s do that!

*sigh* Dammit.

(Paul and Vinnie) Janet!

It was chosen as the legal center of Denton County. After the county seat was moved to Denton, residents of Alton moved to other towns, and Alton eventually disappeared. Today, the bridge is no longer permitted for vehicle use. But lucky for us, the bridge is available for pedestrian crossing.

*snorts* “Lucky for us”… the sarcasm.

You’re a master of sarcasm, Genie. 

--

[Paul, Gene, and Vinnie are standing by the parked car. The trunk is open, and Gene is rummaging through the contents of the trunk while Paul and Vinnie watch]

PAUL: I swear I’m not trying to scare you, Gene, but… I genuinely am getting a bad feeling about this place.

GENE: I am not listening to you, Paul.

PAUL: No, I’m actually serious this time! Vinnie, you can tell I’m serious, right?

VINNIE: I mean, I am getting kind of a bad feeling as well…

GENE: Don’t worry, guys. [straightens up] I came prepared tonight. [starts to unbuckle his belt]

VINNIE: I’m flattered, Genie, but I thought we were hunting down a demon. Plus, Paulie’s with us. And what would Shannon think?

GENE: [stops and stares at him in confusion] What would she think about… [he slowly realizes what Vinnie means] No! Not like that, Vinnie!

[Paul laughs. Vinnie smirks at Gene]  

GENE: Both of you shut up, that’s not what I meant at all! I mean I brought protection!

VINNIE: [grinning] Oh, well at least we won’t have to worry about that. I still think the setting is rather inappropriate, though.

[Paul continues to laugh]

GENE: I mean—I didn’t—shut the fuck up! This is what I’m talking about!

[Gene holds up a leather holster. In the holster is a squirt gun made of blue plastic]

PAUL: [stares at it, then bursts out laughing again] What the hell, Gene?

VINNIE: [trying not to laugh] Gene… why do you have a squirt gun?

GENE: [talking as he attaches the holster to his belt] It’s filled with holy water. I thought of it yesterday. It started out as a joke, but then I thought about it, and it’s actually a pretty good idea.

PAUL: [still laughing] You’re going to protect yourself against a dangerous demon… with a squirt gun filled with holy water?

GENE: Laugh all you want, Paul, but at least I’ll be safe from any demon that tries to sneak up on us. Just think, our backs will be turned, the demon’s sneaking up on us… [acts out this scene] I’ll just go, “Hey, guys, look at these bushes—[whirls around and whips out his squirt gun] freeze, demon!”

VINNIE: Smart.

GENE: I know, right?

--

GENE [voiceover]: Obviously, we didn’t travel all the way down to Texas to observe just a plain old bridge. What brings us to Old Alton Bridge is the meaning of its nickname, “the Goatman’s Bridge.” There are many legends of bridges acting as gateways to another realm, and perhaps this bridge is one of those gateways. Old Alton Bridge and the surrounding woods are said to harbor a dark entity: a demon, that is half-goat and half-man. The Goatman is said to have, quote, “glowing empty eyes” and goat-like horns. The reason for this entity’s existence is unknown, but has many iterations. One common story is that Satanists have carried out rituals on the bridge, that opened the door for this demon and perhaps many others.

There are actually records of people practicing rituals in the forest and on the bridge.

Really?

Yeah.

Oh, so your kind of people.

My kind of—how am I a Satanist?

Because you believe in all the crap they believe in.

Yeah but—I don’t go around performing rituals to summon demons. I respect it, and stay away from it. That’s completely different.

Okay, you’re right about that. That’s fair.

You also go to the synagogue.

*snorts* Yeah, I also go to the synagogue.

GENE [voiceover]: Another popular story is that a successful African American goat farmer was lynched and hanged on the bridge by Klansmen, returning from the dead as the Goatman.

Fuckin’ assholes…

Do we know why they lynched him?

Yeah, because he was African American and he was doing better than them. That’s it. That’s why.

… Okay, fair enough.

Yeah, that’s fair.

GENE [voiceover]: If this story is true, then it would explain why the Goatman looks as it does, since once again, the African American was a goat farmer. However, there are no records of an African American goat farmer living or even existing in that area anywhere in the 1930s or in prior decades. Furthermore, if this story is true, then the Goatman would simply be the ghost of the goat farmer, instead of a demon like the Goatman has been claimed to be. Additionally, demons are preternatural beings, and therefore not human.

So you don’t think the Goatman’s the goat farmer.

Uh, no, I don’t. See, the thing is, if it was just the ghost of the goat farmer, then the Goatman would be just…

A man.

Yeah, just a man. There really wouldn’t be any reason for him to become some version of a Minotaur.

Yeah, that makes sense.

However, the fact that it’s half man and half goat makes it more likely that it’s a demon.

Plus, aren’t there medieval drawings showing Satan with goat legs?

Yeah, that too.

I just have to object to one thing you said. You said it was some version of a Minotaur.

And?

And that is a false statement. A Minotaur is half-man-half-BULL.

Oh—Oh, well excuse me—

Then it would be the BULLman.

—Mr. Greek Mythology Expert.

Paul, you don’t even think the GOATman is real, why are you so stuck on details?

I’m just trying to make sure everything that’s said is accurate.

You wouldn’t think it was real even if it WAS the Bullman.

That’s true. I wouldn’t think it’s the Bullman. I’d think it’s BullSHIT.

*laughter*

GENE [voiceover]: But tonight, our goal is not to find out why this demon exists. Tonight, our goal is to make contact and try to catch footage of this elusive and dangerous demon, as proof that it is real. We can only hope that this evidence does not come at a great cost…

--

[cut to Paul, Vinnie, and Gene walking on the bridge]

PAUL: Are there any demons here with us? Perhaps a demon formerly known as the Goatman?

VINNIE: Prince reference?

PAUL: Yeah, thanks for noticing.

GENE: Let your presence be known… say something… make a noise…

PAUL: Throw us off the bridge…

GENE: Shut up, Paul. [speaks aloud] Why are you on this bridge?

[silence]

GENE: One of you ask it something.

PAUL: Why are you on this bridge?

[Gene rolls his eyes at Paul while Vinnie snickers]

PAUL: [in a dramatic voice] Goatman! [still silence] Nothing’s happening.

VINNIE: Well, obviously.

PAUL: What if we try yelling at it?

GENE: What?

PAUL: I mean, what if we try and agitate it? To try and bring it out?

VINNIE: Like, egg it into showing itself?

PAUL: Yeah!

VINNIE: Yeah, that could work! Can I do it with you?

PAUL: Yeah, let’s do it. Gene—

GENE: I’m just gonna… gonna let you guys do it. I don’t wanna be part of what you guys are doing.

PAUL: Okay.

VINNIE: Yeah, you stay out of it, that way if anything happens to us you can call our families.

PAUL: You want to go first?

VINNIE: No, you go first.

PAUL: Okay… [a few beats of pause] Fuck you, Goatman!

GENE: Oh my God—

VINNIE: Oh, we’re just gonna go all-out? Okay, let me try. [shouts] Hey! Hey, Goatman! You’re no good, Goatman!

PAUL: You’ll never be shit!

VINNIE: You’re just like your father!

GENE: Oh for fuck’s sake—

PAUL: Goatman! [starts dancing in place] See that? I’m dancing on your bridge!

GENE: Paul!

VINNIE: [also starts dancing] We’re dancing on your bridge because we don’t believe in you! Fuck you, Goatman!

PAUL: This is our bridge now! We claim this bridge for ourselves!

GENE: Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die—

VINNIE: You want us off this bridge? You’re gonna have to kill us! Whatcha gonna do, throw us off the bridge?

GENE: He did throw someone off the bridge once.

PAUL: Nah, he’s not gonna throw us off the bridge, y’know why? [shouts] ‘Cause he’s a CHICKEN! [starts clucking like a chicken]

GENE: I swear to God, both of you…

VINNIE: Paulie, c’mere. [they start doing a tango] See that, Goatman? We’re dancing on your bridge!

PAUL: We disrespect your bridge, Goatman!

GENE: Oh, for Christ’s sake—he’s taking names right now, you two.

PAUL: You ain’t shit, Goatman! We own your bridge now!

VINNIE: You hear that, Goatman?

PAUL: Me, Vinnie Vincent, and Gene Simmons own your bridge!

GENE: Paul, don’t you dare loop me into your shit. Stop it.

PAUL: Well, tell him you’re not part of it!

GENE: [speaks aloud] I’m not part of this! Okay? They’re just being assholes.

PAUL: You’re talking to Goatman now. [Paul and Vinnie grin at him]

GENE: … You son of a bitch—

VINNIE: Goatman entrapment, Genie, you’ve been caught. [high-fives Paul] Goatman!

GENE: Guys, stop it.

PAUL: This is our bridge now, Goatman! [Paul and Vinnie continue dancing and jumping up and down on the bridge]

GENE: I swear to God, you two—

VINNIE: They’re gonna write OUR names in graffiti!

GENE: If something appears and kills you, I’m not giving your eulogies.

PAUL: People will come here and tell tales of US!

PAUL and VINNIE: What do ya say to that, Goatman?

[silence]

GENE: I hate you both.

--

GENE [voiceover]: People have reported a growling voice telling them to “get off the bridge.” One person said that after he and his friend heard the voice, he ran off the bridge while his friend stayed. He then watched as his friend was seemingly dragged off the bridge and thrown into the river below. People have also heard hooves following them across the bridge, as if they were being chased off. It’s often said that the Goatman can be conjured by knocking three times on the bridge.

--

[on the bridge, Gene goes up to one side of the bridge and hesitantly raises a fist]

GENE: All right. I’m gonna… knock three times on the bridge… and we’ll see what happens.

PAUL: What if the Goatman bites your hand off?

GENE: Paul—

PAUL: And then he stuffs it in your mouth and makes you eat it?

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

VINNIE: … What the fuck, Paul?

PAUL: What? He might do that. He’s a demon.

GENE: Fuck you, Paul. You’re making this worse.

PAUL: Fine, sorry.

GENE: [turns back to the side of the bridge] Okay… here we go…

[Gene knocks on the side of the bridge three times. They all stand back]

GENE: Now it’s said that when you do that, you can see his glowing eyes. [glances around]

PAUL: [laughing] What a load of horseshit…

VINNIE: Quiet, Paul.

[silence. Nothing happens]

GENE: Well, I’m not doing it again. Either of you want to?

VINNIE: [shrugs] I’ll do it. [goes up to the side and knocks three times. Steps back.]

[silence again. Nothing happens]

VINNIE: All right, Paul, now you do it.

[Paul goes up to the side and raises his fist. Then he stops and looks around in a theatrical way]

GENE: For fuck’s sake, Paul, just do it!

PAUL: [shrugs] Hey, Goatman! [knocks three times]

[silence again. All three look around. The camera passes over parts of the bridge]

PAUL: You know, if you want me off this bridge, you’re gonna have to throw me off.

[still silence. Nothing happens. There is a long stretch in which none of them move or speak]

GENE: Okay, we’re done with that. Let’s go into the woods.

VINNIE: We’re going into the woods?

GENE: Yep. Let’s go.

[they all turn and start to walk off the bridge. Paul turns around and looks out into the darkness]

PAUL: We’ll be back, Goatman. After all, this is our bridge now.

VINNIE: Yeah, remember that, Goatman.

GENE: Would you both shut up?

PAUL: That’s how you get them to come out, Gene.

GENE: That’s not how you get them to come out, that’s how you get them to kill you.

PAUL: Assuming you don’t kill me first, right?

GENE: Exactly.

To be continued in Part 2!

[dfhvn]

Deafheaven Grammy Nomination Interview // Billboard

Full article via Billboard Famous major-label acts like Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica and Slipknot have long dominated the best metal performance category at the Grammy Awards. But this year the field is more in tune with the underground: Four of the five nominated acts are signed to independent labels, including first-time nominee Deafheaven (ANTI-). The San Francisco band, which formed in 2010, earned a nod for its Ordinary Corrupt Human Love track "Honeycomb," an 11-minute primer on its experimental sound.

Back in December, how did you find out you were nominated?

George Clarke (vocals): I was on a flight to New York and had a layover in North Carolina that was only about an hour long. When I landed, I turned my phone back on and had a text from a friend: it was a screenshot of the nominees, saying congratulations. I could hardly believe it. I called Kerry immediately.

Kerry McCoy (guitar): I was in Paris with a friend at lunch. I was texting George about random stuff and then he called me. He knew I was in Paris so he knew it was like, 25 cents a minute -- not cheap. I thought it was an emergency. So I answered and he asked me if we got nominated for a Grammy. I was like, what? No, it can’t be! I didn’t have Internet out there so I couldn’t verify it until we got back to the apartment. It was surreal but really awesome.

I'm sure you weren't really expecting it, but was the chance of a nomination on your minds at all?

Clarke: Not really... I think we were all still on a high from how fun the touring had been and how the album was received. For us, that's really enough.

I will say that given who's been nominated the last few years -- Baroness, Code Orange, Mastodon -- it did seem like someone at the Grammys was paying more attention, which thought was very cool. I thought our category needed to be shaken up the past few years, and it has been. I’m happy to be included in a new wave of attention to younger, heavier artists.

How did "Honeycomb" come together?

McCoy: It was one of the first songs we wrote as a band after I had gotten sober [in late 2017]. I had this burst of creativity. I was listening to a ton of Pulp, Oasis, and Dinosaur Jr, stuff like that at the time. That big, Oasis-like middle section was the first thing we had come together. I took rough sketches up to Oakland and the whole song came together within a couple days. [Guitarist] Shiv [Mehra] had a bunch of leads he threw on there immediately. Chris [Johnson] added the great bass and [drummer] Dan [Tracy] was doing his stuff. It sounds easy -- not technically easy -- but easy in the way music feels when it's written by people who enjoy it.

Clarke: It exemplifies the celebratory feeling we had with this record.

The Grammys don't typically recognize music like Deafheaven's; why do you think they're coming around now?

Clarke: I don't have an answer to that... In our community, there are a lot of hardworking people who sacrifice a ton to release records like this, to stay on the road. Perhaps together we’ve drummed up enough attention for these major outlets to recognize. We just try to make meaningful music and work hard.

It felt like Deafheaven helped lead a lot of non-metal people and publications to open up to metal, especially around your 2013 sophomore album, Sunbather.

Clarke: If we played a part in being a gateway for major outlets to cover [artists] of our caliber, that's really positive.

You mentioned Baroness -- they were nominated in 2017 and Deafheaven is about to go on tour with them. Did they impart any Grammys wisdom?

Clarke: When I was in New York I had dinner with a couple of those guys who live out in Brooklyn. It was fun. They gave me a rundown of how it was, the overall weirdness of it all, how funny certain aspects are. We’re essentially foreign to this whole world, so they way they described it was just to enjoy the experience. To fill those weird shoes. They seemed to have a lot of fun and I think we will, too.

What are you going to do that day? Are you going to walk the red carpet?

Clarke: Honestly, we have no idea how it works, but from what we’ve been told thus far, yes. We’ll be doing the red carpet. We're taking our moms. From my understanding, it’s the whole thing. We’ll be dressing up and being fancy for a night.

McCoy: My mom is talking about having her friends style her and everything… She’s pumped.

Did you notice that four of the five metal nominees -- Between the Buried and Me, High on Fire, Underoath and Deafheaven -- come from independent labels?

Clarke: We did! That's something I wanted to speak on, too. These are groups of musicians who have been working, grinding for an extremely long time, some of which we’ve had the pleasure of touring and playing with before. It’s really cool that whoever is running this Grammy committee is giving these artists recognition.

McCoy: Of all the bands that are nominated, we’ve been along for the shortest amount of time. And we’ve been around for nine years!

Why do you think it takes metal bands so long to get noticed?

Clarke: Metal is not typically the most commercial genre. It hasn’t been for a while. And that’s okay. Metal is gonna be fine on its own. It has an extremely dedicated, built-in community. It has extremely dedicated musicians. And it’s never gonna go away. It's really cool to be recognized, but I don't think metal relies on the Grammys' attention. And I think the Grammys know that, too.

McCoy: It’s not something that everybody listens to. I’m sure the people at the Grammys are just as much regular people as my mom is. And my mom doesn’t really listen to metal except for us [Laughs].

You mentioned 2018 nominees Code Orange; what are some other younger metal bands you'd like to see the Grammys recognize?

Clarke: I’d love to see Inter Arma or Power Trip.

Aside from the Grammys, what are you most excited for this year?

Clarke: Just getting out in general. We're a band that thrives on touring and thrives on seeing fans all over the world.

McCoy: Even though we've done it so many times, we can't get enough of it: figuring out set lists, hanging with friends, seeing what the health food stores in random parts of the country are like.

Does a band like Deafheaven earn most of its livelihood from touring?

Clarke: For a band like us, yes. Touring and merchandising are our bread and butter. We see income from little things here and there, but touring is where we make our money.

Things worked out really well for you in that respect.

McCoy: We always used to say it felt like a scam because we used to spend money to tour. And now we get paid to do it. We keep wondering what the catch is!

Are you thinking about your next release or working on new music?

Clarke: Not heavily but it's always being talked about. The thing about our band is we're all very good friends, so we talk all the time. Kerry and I are always sharing little ideas of where we might want to go. Or little riffs here and there. Shiv is the same way. So on that level it's kind of a constant thing, but no, as far as right now we haven't sat down and planned anything.

The whole [Grammys] thing is weird for us, but we're enjoying it. It's a great way to start the year.

[muse-matters]

Fay World (Draft)

It took Gwen ten minutes to explain to the deputies from the San Bernadino Sheriff’s Department that the enchanted green and purple bonfire currently lighting up her parent's backyard was harmless and entirely legal under the Mythic Magic Act. As she talked and answered their questions, they nodded but their eyes remained skeptical and their hands rested on their weapons. It was the kind of uneasiness Gwen had come to expect from most humans, especially humans confronted with a large group of Mythics.

“Look why don’t you come and see for yourself?” She gestured to the house. Though it was still two hours to midnight it was as bright as dawn, the electric lights inside combining with the bonfire and the tiny magical lights hanging in the sky. The babble of voices and laughter intertwined with the distant melody of someone playing a pipe and Mythics of all shapes and sizes were scattered across the unnaturally green lawn.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. We don’t want to interrupt your party.”  The junior deputy said with barely concealed apprehension. Gwen tried not to smile at how easy they were to get rid of.

“Well then if there is nothing else?” She looked between them and her eye caught on something, or rather someone, behind them. If the officers had looked they wouldn’t have noticed anything but since the age of ten, Gwen had learned to detect the slight shimmer that came when Jack, her brothers best friend, went invisible. She gritted her teeth as he flitted about the car and hoped that whatever mischief he was up to wouldn’t land them all in trouble.

She focused back on the officers as they made their goodbyes and gave the standard warning about the penalties of illegal magic. She assured them again doing her best to look relaxed. They got into their car and Gwen held her breath, waiting for Jack’s trick to manifest. When the car was halfway down the long gravel drive and nothing exploded or seemed wrong she let it out in a whoosh.

There was a chuckle beside her.

“What did you do to the car?” She asked the night air.

“Something they won’t trace back to their visit here.”  She could hear the smile in his voice.

“They better not or I swear this time I will turn you in.”

“You are no fun.” Jack appeared before her, stepping into the night as if parting a curtain. Unmasked, his magic hit her; strong and unmistakably wild. Her traitorous heart skipped a beat, he was too close. She tipped her head to meet his deep green eyes.

“We have different definitions of fun”

“You used to like my tricks.” He said with a pout that didn’t fool Gwen for a second.

“That was when I was a kid and thought you and Owen were cool.” She didn’t add it was also when she’d had a ridiculous crush on him.

He gasped theatrically and placed his hand on his heart. “How dare you imply I am not cool.”

In spite of herself, Gwen smiled. “You are trouble.”

“Actually I’m a puka.”

“Same thing.”

He grinned wide enough for his dimple to flash and dipped his head as if acknowledging a compliment. His white-blonde hair looked purple in the bonfire light and Gwen tried not to notice how attractive he looked. He really was trouble. As a puka Jack was a natural born trickster and never let something as trivial as human laws get in the way of having fun. Worse he was always dragging Owen into his schemes and landing Gwen’s simple guardian faerie brother in jail.  

A roar followed by laughter and cheering sounded from the bonfire.

“Looks like the dwarves have started brawling,” Gwen said.

Jack chuckled as he turned from her. “Trouble calls.” Then he stepped back into the air disappearing into the night.

Gwen shook her head, telling herself she was glad to be rid of him. Without really thinking about it she pulled out her phone to text her sister, Elaine, knowing she would understand.

Jack is the worst

Gwen stared at the screen and the five previous messages she had sent with no reply. Unlike Gwen, Elaine was hard to get a hold of and always traveling. Ostensibly she was hunting for a gateway back to the Otherworld but from her social media, it seemed the only thing she was hunting was the best photo-op. Despite her trooping faerie ways, this was the first year Elaine had missed the annual Samhain party. Gwen had been up since dawn working with her mother to accomplish what was usually a three-person job. Though working in the kitchen was vastly preferrable to making small talk with the gnomes from Arizona, Gwen couldn’t help but be resentful that her sister had left her to face the party alone.

She put her phone back in her pocket as she weaved through the various vehicles, motorbikes, pedal bikes and a school bus painted neon green that littered the driveway and front lawn. Though many guests had arrived via magic more and more Mythics were growing practical and adapting to human modes of transportation, thanks in part to the recent changes in the laws. Changes that Gwen had helped enact, not that any of them knew or cared.

The porch step creaked as she trudged to the door. If Gwen didn’t go back into the kitchen to report about the police her mother would send someone looking for her. Steeling herself she opened the door and stepping inside.

The various types of magic, overwhelming and impossible to sort out the origins, hit her like jumping naked into a glacier lake. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself that it would be easier once she adjusted to it. As she struggled to acclimate Gwen scanned the room for her mother.

She wasn’t part of the knot of pixies that were listening to Amy Takanaka. By the laughing and sly look in the kitsune’s eyes Gwen assumed she was telling about tricking her latest human boy toy. Even knowing that Mythics existed Amy still managed to fool a surprising number of men. Beyond them was Henrik, a tall, lean, Nordic elf, talking to Chetna. The naga’s snakelike eyes looked mildly interested so Gwen guessed that she didn’t yet need saving from Henrik discussing his pet wolf’s bowel movements. Scanning further over the eclectic assortment of Mythics filling the room Gwen realized her mother must be in the kitchen.

She was wondering if it would be easier to sneak outside and around the house when a frisson of magic pulled her up short. It pressed upon Gwen, making every hair stand up and her heart pound. Liquid smoke wrapped around her legs before pouring itself into the shape of a human woman in front of her.

Gwen didn’t know if all jinni had the same annoying habit of ostentatious materializing but for as long as she could remember it was how Afiya had moved even short distances. The pressure of the magic eased as Afiya took form and Gwen gave a sigh.

“If you spent more time around magic it wouldn’t affect you so strongly,” Afiya said before its mouth had fully formed.

“Nice to see you too, Auntie.” Gwen gave a sweet smile. Ignoring the advice Afiya had already given her a hundred times. Afiya was a family friend and one of the first Mythics Gwen’s parent’s had met when they came to America. Sensing its unique, powerful magic they had followed it to a cave in Death Valley. Afiya, like so many American Mythics, was a refugee and luckily had taken a liking to Branwen and Cormac despite their British origins.  

Afiya wrinkled its nose, it had chosen an aristocratic one this time. “You even smell human. Our kind was never meant to spend so much time with humans.”

“So you have told me. Just as I have told you that it’s a good job, doing important work for all Mythics.”

“Your generation! The very idea of taking worthless pieces of paper and plastic instead of bartering is offensive.”

Gwen didn’t bother pointing out that Afiya’s power made it easy to disdain currency because it didn’t need it to survive. Just as it didn’t care about the Mythic laws Gwen worked on because humans couldn’t enforce them on it.

“You need to spend more time with your sister. She will teach you how to be a true guardian faerie. Where is she?”

“Not here.” Gwen couldn’t keep the sharpness from her voice.

“And you resent her for that? She is doing the work she is meant for, the most important work of all. All of this nonsense about taking orders from humans will cease when your people finally open a gateway back home.”

As it spoke Afiya began to turn smudgy at the edges and its eyes, shifted from a deep blue to an unnatural orange. Magic rolled off of it in waves and Gwen gritted her teeth to keep herself from an angry retort. With a huff, the jinni abandoned its form entirely and became a swirl of smoke that spun up to the ceiling. Gwen hoped it went out the chimney and didn’t come back so that she wouldn’t be tempted to tell it how wrong it was.

While it was true that Gwen and her family were guardian faeries and that their kind had always been the keepers of the crossroads, with abilities to both sense where doorways were possible and to open them between the worlds. It was also true that no doorway had been opened for 26 years, almost all of Gwen’s life. Afiya talked of going home but America was the only home Gwen had ever known.  

Pulling out her phone she sent Elaine another message.

I almost yelled at Afiya. This is what happens when you aren’t here to run interference.

As an afterthought, she added a smiley face so Elaine wouldn’t think she was angry.

“Hey.”

Gwen looked up to see her brother Owen approaching.

“Hey.” She put her phone away.

They were of a height, his purple eyes a match to hers, but his hair was short and grass green, framing his pointed ears while hers was dyed black and shoulder length, ears safely hidden. The excess magic in the room didn’t seem to be bothering him at all as he smiled and took a bite of a honey cake that Gwen had helped make that morning. Exhaustion swept over her and she longed to grab his cake and go hide in her old bedroom.

“What did you say to Afiya?” Owen waggled his eyebrows and Gwen was sure he had a good idea of the conversation.

“I was polite. Afiya just doesn’t want to accept the truth.”

“You mean your truth that the doorways are locked forever?”

“Remind me how many doorways you have found in your ten years of looking?”

“Ouch, little sister, no need to rub it in. And to think I was going to give you a gift.” Out of the air he produced another honey cake and offered it to her with a smile. The small magic was a party trick Jack had taught them when they were younger, though Gwen had never managed to master it.

“What do you want?”

“Can’t I just do something nice?”

Gwen raised her eyebrows.

“Fine,” he said. “I got into a bit of legal trouble and I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Ow-en.” She half groaned.

“It’s not a big deal. We don’t even have to talk about it now. Just after the party before you go back to L.A.”

“Okay. After the party.” He broke into a grin and she held up her hand “But I need two more honey cakes and you have to run interference with Mom for the next hour.”

“Done.”

They didn’t shake on the bargain but Gwen knew it to be magically binding by the zing up her spine. Normally she wouldn’t make a bargain so cavalierly but Owen was her brother she trusted him not to take advantage. In quick succession, Owen produced two more cakes. Gwen took them with a smile.

“I’m going upstairs to my room,” she said.

“I will make sure you are undisturbed.”

“And tell Mom there were no issues with the police.”

He gave a mock salute before turning and plunging back into the crowd towards the kitchen. Gwen went the opposite direction to the sagging old staircase.

#

Laying in her old bed Gwen sucked the last bit of honey from her fingers. The full moon streamed through the window bathing the dark room in silver. Below and outside the party continued but at this distance the gathered magic faded into the background like hearing the pounding of waves from a beach house instead of having them break over her and drag her into the ocean.

Her families first Samhain party had been a small affair, just her parents, a nymph named Laurel they had met on their way to America, five-year-old Owen, three-year-old Gwen, and one-year-old Elaine. They had made the traditional foods and stayed up until midnight trying to catch glimpses into the world that had been suddenly closed to them. But there had been nothing to see, the Otherworld was hidden from them even on the night when the barrier between worlds was thinnest. Owen said that they sang songs and danced under stars until dawn in defiant joy but Gwen only remembered the feeling of emptiness and the desolation on her mothers face.

The next year, after her parents had made countless Mythic friends traveling the country, their small apartment had been bursting with guests and the party held a week before Samhain. Her parents had said it was to avoid upsetting their human neighbors by having so many Mythics gathered together on a day of power but Gwen was never sure that was exactly true. Especially because it seemed every year, no matter where they were living, the police were always called about the party. Gwen was wondering who had called them this year when she heard a thud from Elaine’s room.

Holding her breath she sat up and strained her ears, which were more acute than a human’s. Over the sounds of the party, she heard the faintest of footsteps and the scrape of a chair. Gwen frowned. Who could possibly have a reason to be in Elaine’s room? If it was a hobgoblin looking to do some cleaning in exchange for more food she wasn’t going to stand for it.

But when she got to Elaine's doorway the occupant wasn’t three foot and hairy nor was he cleaning. The stranger appeared to be almost six feet and was inspecting the contents of a desk drawer a red ball of faerie fire glowing above his shoulder.

Gwen switched on the electric light. The stranger reared up hitting his head on his faerie fire and cursing.

“What are you doing?” Gwen demanded as she stepped into the room.

He turned to her scowling as he rubbed the back of his head. “Was that necessary?”

“What? Who the hell are you? And why are you snooping in my sister's room?” Gwen crossed her arms trying to figure out just what kind of Mythic he was.

“Just exploring.” He flashed her a smile that would have been charming under different circumstances before continuing in a smooth accented voice, “Sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me.” Gwen wondered if she should be scared of his magic but when she tried to feel for it all she got was the weak pulse from the faerie fire. “You’re human.”

“And you are a Mythic.” He tipped his head slightly, and a dark curl slipped onto his forehead. His face was narrow and handsome despite the slight crook in his nose.

“Why are you here?” Gwen looked at the open desk drawer. There was nothing but junk in it. Elaine didn’t really use it but this man clearly didn’t know that and his accent made it unlikely he was a local attracted by the light and noise.

“I was invited by my friend. Couldn’t pass up a chance to see a real Mythic bash.”

“What’s your friend's name?”

“John.” He barely paused but Gwen knew in her gut he was lying. She hated liars.

“No, you’re not.”

His lips twitched. “No, I’m not. Quite clever aren’t you.” He smiled and it was sharp at the edges. “Well, now that we have established that I don’t belong here shall we make a deal?”

Gwen frowned. Nothing good could come from a bargain with this man but she had finally placed his accent, some variety of British, and in spite of herself she was intrigued.

“What would be your terms?” She asked.

“I will tell you who I am, why I am here, and leave immediately if you answer one question.”

“What question?”

“First promise.”

Gwen put her hands on her hips. “I am not stupid enough to agree to anything without knowing the full terms. Especially with a human who could easily break their word.” Human’s had a choice in bargains but for her it was always magically binding. A fact she had learned painfully as a child.

“So untrustworthy.” He gave a shake of his head. “Alright. I want to know where Elaine is.”

Ice stabbed Gwen’s heart. What had Elaine gotten mixed up in now? “I will tell you what I know about where Elaine is if you tell me who you are, why you are here and leave immediately.”  She hoped he hadn’t noticed her change to his wording. But his smug smile eased her fears.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Gwen felt the zing up her spine sealing the bargain. “You first.”

He grinned broadly like a poker player about to lay down a winning hand. “I’m a private investigator and I am here because my employer suspects that your sister kidnapped Vivian Jamison. My job is to find Elaine and turn her into the authorities.”

“What? That’s insane. Elaine and Vivian are friends. She wouldn’t kidnap her.”

He shrugged. “And yet Vivian Jamison is missing and was last seen with your sister. Elaine’s innocence or guilt isn’t really my business. I am here to find her, turn her into the authorities and collect my money.”

Gwen was appalled by his naked avarice. This was her sister's life they were talking about. She thought of all the unanswered texts and her stomach clench in panic.   

“When did Vivian go missing?”

“That wasn’t part of the agreement. Now tell me where is Elaine?” He stepped closer.

Gwen wanted to throttle him and his smug smirk, he had deliberately given her information so she would know she was selling out Elaine. She was now grateful for how little she knew.

“I don’t know where she is. The last time we spoke she was in Edinburgh.”

He glared and took another step into her space. “She was in Edinburgh five days ago. You agreed to tell me where she is now.”

“No. I agreed to tell you what I knew about where she is. That’s all I know. My end of the bargain is met.” She felt the confirming coldness wash over her. She owed this man nothing.

“But you have an idea of where she might have gone or where she might be?”

This time she stepped toward him with a sickly sweet smile. “That wasn’t part of the agreement. Now leave before I call my jinni friend up here to make you leave.”

She was close enough to see that his eyes were a deep blue as they flashed and he looked on the verge of arguing but then he broke into a laugh that took all the bravado out of Gwen. She stepped away confused.

“Well played, little fae.” He sat on the desk and eyed her speculatively “You know there is no reason for us to be enemies.”

“You are trying to get my sister pinned for kidnapping.”

“If the price was right I could be convinced to help you instead.”

“So all you care about is your payday?”

“A man’s got to eat.”

Gwen felt sick at his words. She wasn’t even sure if he was being honest or if this was just another attempt at getting information from her.

“I don’t need the help of a human bounty hunter to find my sister.”

He considered her for a long moment before nodding. Then he reached into his black motorcycle jacket and pulled out a card. “In case you change your mind.”  When she didn’t move to take it he set in on the desk. He gave her one last smirk before sauntering past her and down the stairs.

She watched from the top step as he closed the front door and then went to Elaine’s window and watched him jump into an unremarkable sedan with California plates. Only when his taillights had disappeared into the dark did she move to go find Owen.

[wildstrandsblog]

I am an Empath. I am an HSP.

I am an Empath. I am a Highly Sensitive Person. I live with Kundalini. If these words sound foreign to you, I can understand. I was in that same boat a year and a half ago, too, just after my thirty-seventh birthday. If someone had said these psychological terms, “Empath,” “Highly Sensitive Person,” “HSP,” or “Kundalini,” to me I might’ve said, “That’s interesting. What does that mean?” Now, I cannot afford to be so cavalier. Aside from my work as a wife and mother, my life revolves around understanding the meaning behind these words because the quality of my life and the life of my family depends on it.

I had no idea I experienced an aspect of my life so differently than others. I walked the same and talked the same as others, ate the same food producing the same amount of energy my body needed to keep running the same as others, but there was and is something inherently different in the way I received, or felt, information beyond the five senses normally attributed: sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste. This extra sense or ability I have is strongly rooted in the way I perceive the world and allows me to “sense” or “feel” the world beyond the physical with something we have all come to know as intuition.

What is intuition? I can tell you what it means to me. I came into it strongly in my mid-twenties when it guided me out of a mental health crisis that neither myself nor any family or friend around me knew. The year was 2005 when women still remained publicly silent about abuse and were threatened by being labeled “crazy.” I was stricken with a panic attack after an intense two-week study of my young life and the world around me. I was working to make sense of the injustice that had come to me as a little girl who had been sexually abused, and not just me but so many young girls and women who fall victim to sexual abuse repeatedly only to have had societal norms heavily suggest they remain silent. The pain I felt for all those who suffered silently, women in my family, women whom I never met, their stories lost to history, was unlike anything I had experienced before, falling to my knees, crying out in agony, and gripped by an intense energy as if in a night terror where the dreamer is half asleep and half awake and powerless to stop their intruders.

By the end of this self study turned compulsion where I only thought I was gathering information, I found myself laying on a couch, close to death, hooked to my father’s at-home blood pressure monitor registering my heartbeat at 45 beats per minute. I was unable to move out of a paralyzing fear that someone or something was going to take me. What eventually released me from the psychological torment was prayer.

After having gone through the toughest of the psychological battles, I scheduled a visit to see my family doctor a few days later, trying to seek an answer from the medical community when others had no answer and facing my fear that I would be diagnosed with insanity. The doctor ended the exam saying, “Everything checks out. You look great. I don’t know what you experienced but maybe you hold the key to unlocking people’s brains,” said rather sarcastically though it stuck with me. There was no referral to see a psychologist or any type of counseling, and loved ones encouraged me with a lack of wisdom saying, “Well, you can’t be crazy if you think you’re crazy. Only people who think they’re not crazy are the crazy ones.” I did nothing more to pursue the mystery of what caused a low level of psychosis, frankly because all my energy was now devoted to acclimating myself back from this strange, new world I came into as if I were a child again, having been reborn into something just as real, if not more, as the world around me.

The event itself I never spoke on much again, tucking it away as something others would see as strange and largely discomforting, resting on the habitual tendency to remain silent. What I did do, though, was place a lot of stock in this unknowable instinct that emerged, guiding me from nothing I knew or created, but had an intelligence far more adept at knowing me than I knew of myself, and in a way I was never taught before. It became known to me as the one thing, more than people, more than family, even more than friends, I could count on, yet, I still had no language or words to identify the force that guided me into the perilous jungles of the inner, unconscious, world and was there, again, guiding me back. It provided solace from a harrowing experience and put me back on the path to what would become future transformations.

My whole world has changed since then, again and again, going through the cycles of life like a Ferris wheel offering different views from the top and then again from the bottom but always in the same place. I was brought to my knees a second time when I became a mother, fearful of imparting this cycle of abuse onto my children like I had seen repeatedly in my family. After a second mental health scare, I came out with a new identity and the words I needed to empower myself and family back to the path where abuse no longer needed to be written into a future history. From there came a place where talking about thoughts and feelings were honored, and openness encouraged from the beginning becoming like a bridge to a life where unconditional love without ignorance was the currency. And it all started with me, the Empathic mother, who finally chose to feel all her feelings, all the pain, so much pain, over and over again, in silence, aching for an end to the misery.

Armed with tools now that help guide my empathic gift that has always given me the innate ability to feel others feelings, I have begun teaching my children the lessons I’ve learned from my own experiences. I have discarded the idea that I “feel too much” or “too deeply,” as I’ve been told in the past having the standard of the culture’s stunted emotional intelligence applied to me. I feel on the level that was always intended for me and others, though different than most who have not opened up to their intuition, to all its possibilities, and the compassion we could all possess on an innate level.

It wouldn’t be fair for me to conclude this story with a fairytale ending where everything suddenly became sunshine and rainbows. It doesn’t work that way if you’re a real person who sorts through real pain and real life lessons. We still live in a world that is largely controlled by habits & societal norms that don’t place a high value on empathic and emotional intelligence just yet. However, I am encouraged by the future. I am encouraged seeing my own sons, one perhaps on the same empathic spectrum as I am. When I see his acts of compassion towards me, towards his brothers, and his father, beyond his three years of life, I feel blessed that a child with his gifts will be raised by a mother who knows the power he holds in every act of kindness he shows. And I have been given the opportunity to love a remarkable child in the ways I always longed to be loved.

What is on the other side if the world turned more towards empathy? I like to think it would look more like the world so many of us have dreamed. The world would slow down, the image of nature would come back into its full view, and people would see the value they hold by adding to the beauty of the Earth. Those of us who are Empaths, HSPs, and live with Kundalini are the gateway, telling our stories to the future generation, and offering hope from lending a helping hand. Through the power of intuition when it is followed, pathways are made plain to the gifts we cannot see just from using the five senses. We let go of the insane reality that we have any control over life by using the tools developed by humans and move towards a change in perception and our innate ability to use the tools developed by an intelligence greater than ourselves, moving with the harmony of the universe.

Like George Carlin said, “Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting, ‘Holy shit, what a ride!’” This is for all those that don’t THINK they know, but KNOW they know what it’s like to walk in someone else’s shoes. The road has been tough, very tough, but I’m here to say I’m with you. I hope you’re with me, too.

___________________________________

📸 taken on my solo journey to London, 2010. A picture of The London Eye.

[ddaenghoney]

SERIES: HALLOWEEN BETWEEN MIDNIGHTS

Chapter 21

On October 1st, you attend a Halloween party in an abandoned house rented by some friends. As scary as the idea of cult owners is, nothing could have prepared you and BTS(regular people) for the mayhem and terror that follows until October 31st.

This is an INTERACTIVE fic. At the end of each part, readers will be able to vote to decide what happens next. Analyze everything(except the time) carefully. Choices decide romance, friendship, and deaths; and yes, ANYONE can die.

In other words, please read at your own risk; anything goes in this story.

Start here | Previous part | Next part 

Your spine shivered as you glanced past Hoseok into the green yard behind a looming, metal fence. Stepping along the sidewalk, you turned to look to the other side of the street into a small reserved area of forest students often used the trails in. “The pocket of forest in this part of the city always weirds me out.” You commented under your breath, eyebrows furrowed as you considered the urban avenues abandoned only five minutes ago.

“It’s good the city preserved all the forest around here, though. Keeps it timeless.” Hoseok’s eyes followed the tall, reddening trees that stood guard on the outskirts of the property to your right. “Besides it’s easier to think without all the cars and people.”

“Not with that place right there,” You nodded your head to the property, though Hoseok didn’t notice as he appeared to take account of every leaf on the branches. “That place is creepy. It makes me feel anxious standing around that house again.”

“You didn’t have fun at the last party?” Subdued sarcasm.

“Did you? Screaming in the haunted house they did?” Half of your mouth curled into a smirk, at the idea. But just as easily it dissipated. You looked on at Hoseok’s neck perpetual arch upwards towards the trees. “That owl,” He glanced to you, “The one that attacked me.” Your left hand reached up to the same shoulder. “Or I’m pretty sure he got me, but,” You looked towards the few twigs and brown leaves scattered on the sidewalk as you walked along. “Well, Namjoon didn’t see anything wrong with me though.”

“Some people think owls represent the supernatural.” You stayed steady, gazing absently at the space in front of you. Hoseok continued in guise of wonder, “Gateways to hell, or something. That they have powers too.”

“Creepy.” You cut into the end of his sentence, squeezing tighter on his hand. “Since when are you into that kind of stuff?”

“Just what I hear around campus on account of all the people talking about those pranks from the past month.” Your chest tightened at the memory. The rat in your common bathroom. The broken glass, mirrors, painted words on doors around campus. You’d seen too many of them. You bit down on your lip, unable to verbalize a desire for him to stop talking about it. “They never did figure out who did them, but it would’ve had to be someone up late, huh? Able to just avoid security cameras-”

“Stop, please.” Another shiver, and a pulse felt along your left shoulder. “I feel like I saw all of the incidents in person.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You repeated, voice higher in bewilderment. “Because there’s been, what? Ten incidents? I’ve seen all of them-”

“So do you think someone is after you?” He still stared up at the fiery trees, colored in the night. “That wouldn’t make sense.”

“Why not?” You bit onto your lip, not sure what he was getting it, not sure why either. The lack of sleep you recalled from this past month began to weigh you down with this topic. “What else could it be if that person doing them isn’t after someone-”

“Remember when you told me about it before? At my dorm.” He stalled the walk, causing the slightest jerk on your arm as you followed in suit. You stared back at him, analyzing his expression for what he wanted you to get from this. At his dorm?

“You told me you’d help me.” Hoseok’s eyebrows rose. Out of surprise, maybe. His lips curled and he laughed softly, nodding once.

“Yeah, I guess it makes sense that’s what you remember most from it.” You frowned, head turning towards the entry gate of the property. “Remember when you told me you thought someone was controlling you?”

You didn’t.

But then you considered his sentence over. Remember the event. The sun radiating outside of his dorm, and your body trembling from all of the paranoia. He told you no one could be controlling you after you made the comment. Shut the idea down. You remembered feeling alone, but convinced still at your worry. He comforted you at your tears, and felt like the sun then, but not before, and not after.

“Yeah-”

“Who would control you?” He leaned his head downwards. “An owl?”

Your shoulder tingled. “Hoseok-”

“A nocturnal animal, right?” You tightened the grip on his hand. Your chest felt thick with uncertainty. “But an owl is just an owl. A bird can’t do anything, but a demon-”

“Shut up.”

“Supernatural creature could do a lot more than a simple bird.”

“Hoseok!” You jerked your hand away. “What are you getting at?”

“Do you believe in the supernatural, love?”

Your eyes narrowed. You didn’t. When you went to Jeongguk and Taehyung’s party, you thought the idea was eerie, but groundless. But then that seance. Then you felt completely frozen, and the one after like you were being crushed from every direction. Warring with a voice in your head that wasn’t yours, warring since that seance. Was there another voice? You just considered your heart and head to differ much more recently, but someone else?

“Yeah.”

Maybe there was a logical conclusion. Maybe there was a scientific way to prove the causes for everything within a methodical spectrum. But when it is a pile of evidence otherwise, how could you disregard the other answer with complete conviction?

“You trust that something happened to you and to Taehyung.” Phrasing words in ways that you weren’t used to him saying.

“And Hoseok.” The murmur of thoughts had him staring. Impressed. Your neck dried from the prospect. “You did all of this-”

“No.” He shook his head, nodding his head to the tallest bar on the gate door. An owl, feathers blending into the evening and fire in each eye burned complacently. Your fingers twitched, but your feet stayed attached to the cement. “The master did, but it was helpful to find a fool that thought he could gain immortality like my people. Who would’ve thought allowing him to rent the place for a ridiculous party would be this fortunus?”

Your eyes wouldn’t separate from the heated voids you stared into. A glow emitted, as wings spread wide.

“Just like a rat caught.”

“Did you kill, Hobi?” The tension building in your chest altered into anger. “Or Yoongi and Taehyung?”

“That’s for later,” He spoke with a shrug, stepping between the line created between you and the silent bird. “I have to say,” His head tilted, smirking foreignly. “He must’ve really cared about you. My judgement felt blurry sometimes speaking with you.”

Your lips frowned, and you wanted to reach forward and shove him but no ligaments moved. You knew it. It felt like Hoseok was there sometimes-- holding you.

“I just needed a vessel, and,” He sighed without emotion, “Don’t take this personally. I gain a new life, but not because of you-- or your friends.” Your shoulder burned, making you wince. The heat channeled behind your eyes. It seemed like you looked out through the same red of the owl. “I only act to fulfill my side of the covenant.”

Yoongi groaned as he released the tension building behind his arms. He glared back at the wall and the ridiculously cliche chains he was attached to. Groaning again, he tried to stand up on his feet, not given enough slack to do so fully, but he wanted to use that to his advantage. Inhaling the dry air, he put the bulk of his strength in the opposite direction of the wall. It was old as hell, it had to give way. If he kept messing with it, it had to--

He shortly yelled as his feet slid, causing him to fall onto his thigh with a wince of profanity. He bit his lip, contemplating. As he looked around the empty room, all he could find were other sets of empty chains around the remainder of the walls. Nothing to reach. He relaxed back against the wall. Eyes shut as the air barely touched the irritated skin of his joints where the cuffs attached.

Frankly, they only hurt when he tried to escape. On their own they did him no harm. Nothing in here had. He even had the luck of that psychotic guy coming in hours earlier to give him some food and water. Why be hospitable to someone you were about to sacrifice to satan or something?

Yoongi glanced around the emptiness once more. At least none of the others were here. Though he wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good thing. He wasn’t sure if they were elsewhere, but after yelling for a half hour to receive no replies he felt the tiniest bit comforted. Simultaneously worried for his own life, however.

It had been Hoseok that sent everything into the current situation. Walking into the room with Seokjin, and only questioning what was going on. Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed at the memory of your body limping against Yoongi’s first, followed by Jimin, Seokjin, Namjoon, then Jeongguk. Yoongi recalled Hoseok looking momentarily confused, but then he spoke up bluntly,

“Sleep.” And that was it.

“Sleep,” Yoongi mocked the tone, before scoffing, “Fucking lame. Not even a curse, just a command.” He swallowed, still entirely unsettled by the mere words causing all of them to pass out.

His neck straightened as he heard a call somewhere off in the distance. It sounded like Hoseok. Yoongi leaned forward, trying to figure out the direction of the sound to make out the words better. Just Hoseok and words too far away. Then another voice. The cult guy. They probably met each other as the calling ceased. Yoongi thought he heard a door slam shut. Far off.

He was sure it wasn’t a good thing.

Standing once more, he began to pull again. It wouldn’t do anyone good for him to be sitting there uselessly. He tugged in a jerk, hearing a creak. Then again to hear nothing. He cursed under his breath and pulled. A larger creak. Another-

“We need to go through the back entrance.” Jimin mumbled as the three huddled at the largest tree by the entrance. “I think I remember seeing a book in there-

“This isn’t a scavenger hunt.” Jeongguk groaned, “We need to go in through the front door and just go to that stupid seance room in the other downstairs area.”

“And then what?” Jimin glared. “We fight off cult guy but then what? We need to have a book to get Y/N and Taehyung free. Midnight is in twenty minutes.”

“Our priority is to make sure they’re still alive first, though.” Namjoon pushed his arm between the two’s glaring eyes. “If we go running in through the front fucking door that’s not very stealthy. We’re not just busting in.” He looked from Jeongguk to Jimin, “And what if they’re using that book right now?” Jimin sighed in defeat.

“We should go in at ground level-”

“But what if they’re being held in that room I was in?” Jimin offered, looking to the dimly lit house. “If they’re there and we get them out, wouldn’t that help us too?”

Please feel free to send thoughts, predictions, interpretations; they really help me to know how to word the story so that everyone successfully understands the plot points I’m trying to get across ! More than happy to answer questions you may have !

[happymetalgirl]

Bring Me the Horizon - amo

For better and for worse, this one has been a long time coming. If Sempiternal was the irritated throat fans brushed off as nothing, then That's the Spirit was their first terrifying handful of blood coughed up after ignoring diagnostics, and amo is the progression of the untreated pop infection in Bring Me the Horizon's lungs that has progressed beyond treatment. For fans uneasy about the band's trajectory in 2015, this album is no easy pill to swallow.

I've been rather critical of a lot of bands aping Bring Me the Horizon's more try-hard anthemic metalcore style since the success of 2013's Sempiternal, but for Bring Me the Horizon themselves, I've actually had at least a little bit of appreciation for the boldness and ambition with which they have seemed to try to push their brand of metalcore since their 2010 album There Is a Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There Is a Heaven, Let's Keep It a Secret. But with that appreciation of what they are trying to do to bolster their sound has also come with a lot of frustration when it comes to the execution, whether it be the repetitive formula on Sempiternal yielding some seriously irritating tunes whose energy only magnified their obnoxiousness, or the horrendous watering down that neutered any idea of ambition on That's the Spirit.

It has been about four years since the band's aggravating previous album, and for myself, the metal community outside the band's fanbase, and even within, those four years have been spent nervously gritting teeth in anticipation of what the band would progress toward next. And now it's here. Given the sour turn the band took with That's the Spirit, my hopes for amo were not high at all. In fact after a series of lackluster maimstream-ish releases so far this year, I was ready for the cherry to top the shit sundae with this album. That being said, amo is definitely bolder and a much more thoughtful continuation of Bring Me the Horizon's quest for pop glory, and one that is at least more determined and more comprehensive than That's the Spirit. The band finally commit to the sound they clearly wanted to make their way to, and in some ways it's good that they're not trying to cover their bases as thinly as possible like they were with their previous album. Indeed, there are a few tracks on here I enjoy quite a lot.

The band fully commit to the sounds and writing styles of Top 40 pop these days, and this album would definitely blend right in with the likes of Ed Sheeran and Shawn Mendes. I feel like I have to address my distaste for Top 40 music in general and clarify that it's not based in a simplistic, tribalistic feud I see lots of metalheads take part in, where it's the principle of pop vs. rock or mainstream music vs. outsider music that's being fought over. No, I definitely enjoy me some thoughtfully done pop music and even some indulgently tasty pop as well. What I don't like is the sterility of the music from the likes of Halsey, Macklemore, Camila Cabello, or whoever made that shit song "The Middle" selected to be the goal for pop artists to strive for to reach radio/playlist success. And then there's the despised Imagine Dragons, the only pop rock band in existence apparently, based on how much time they suck up on the radio. I know this is a sidetrack and I know that radio is not the prime outlet it used to be, but it still represents a lot of what pop trends towards these days, and it continues to set a precedent for vapid, lazy songwriting, and corporately calculated pandering. That being said, there's the occasional song I'm surprised, not so much by my enjoyment of, but of the presence of something enjoyable coming from a mainstream pop outlet, and that's what amo seems to be going for.

I gave this album quite a few listens, both to really get to know it as per usual, and because this kind of pop isn't my usual forte, and it was interesting to see how the album transformed in my eyes with each successive listen. My first time hearing it, I knew I was going into a straight-up pop album, and with the ilk of Top 40 stations as my barometer, I was actually pretty relieved and pleasantly surprised to not be slamming my head against the nearest wall for the 51 minutes it lasts. But then I remembered, "wait a minute, this is a pop album, it loves to ride a good first impression, see how it is after 4, 5, 6 listens." And sure enough, it waned on me the more I listened.

The parts that I really enjoy did rise to the top as the rest sank, but with a better understanding of this album's content and what it's trying to achieve, I end up with a lot of the same frustrations I had with the band on Sempiternal and its predecessor, just in a less heavy format/context this time. Like the band's first metalcore-departing albums, amo has some good stylistic ideas and it works well with them, but the band's inconsistent results with the repetitive formulas they emply continues to be the limiting factor for them. On the vocal front, Oli Sykes clearly channels Minutes to Midnight-era Chester Bennington all over the project, from the raspy borderline shouted melodies and overwhelmingly polished cleans, while also making a very pop-influenced use of his falsettos as well, and as much as it often teems over with blatant imitation, at least I can't complain about his execution; he's on point pretty much the entire time, which could be thanks to some production crutches, but Sykes' performances sound watertight nonetheless. The rest of the band are much more present than I thought they would be, not as drowned out in gaudy pop production (which does still become a bit too much at some points, but for the most part it's pretty tasteful and balanced throughout the album).

Songs like "nihilist blues" do well to set futuristically melancholic moods through modern electro pop instrumentals, while on songs like "MANTRA" and "sugar honey ice & tea" (a cheesy roundabout way to title the song "shit"), the band try to keep the guitar-driven energy high while blending more pop-oriented elements and performance/production techniques, and the blend is at least a refreshingly alive spin on the egg-shell-treading stlyes of this era of pop music. But the band still don't really manage to make what sounds good on paper actually sound as good as it should through speakers, churning out some annoying melodies through the overly repetitive structures that take bad pop songs from displeasing to disgusting. And these songs have some potential and some parts of them that I wish weren't wrecked by overproduction or cheesy choruses, "sugar honey ice & tea" especially has some invigorating building rock instrumentation in its verses, but the band don't really follow through on the hollow, high-pitched electro vocal-laden chorus. But then there are the songs that (I think) don't really have any redeeming qualities.

The songs where Bring Me the Horizon really just lean all the way into this new role as a prospective pop act are the ones where they of course fall into the styles' predictable pitfalls. Straightforward pop numbers like "mother tongue" and "medicine" channel kiddish lyrics about love and embodying vindictiveness respectively through bland, unimaginative instrumentation. Another track, "in the dark", runs in kind of the same vein of unadultered pop with Oli Sykes doing his best Shawn Mendes impersonation, but is at least a little bit more soulful and less robotic.

Back in the gray area is the song "heavy metal", which takes aim at the attitudes of discontented fans being mad at the band for continuing to shift styles. I understand that there are definitely a lot of stubborn people willing to let that be sufficient justification for their reasons for lampooning the band's change in style, but there are plenty of reasons to be apprehensive about this new direction that lots of other people are articulating that the band could have addressed instead of minimizing the criticism surrounding them to the reductive basement-dweller strawman. Instrumentally though, it is one of the heavier songs on the album, ending with the album's only screamed breakdown, as short as it is.

As far as highlights go, the song "why you gotta kick me when i'm down?" is a convincing electronic banger that finds low-register synths mimicking the crunch of the guitar the band usually uses, and doing so well. Lyrically it oozes of the same kind of inability to accept criticism as "heavy metal", but at least this song's fierce potency makes a good case for the band's being above the type of simplistic criticism they lament. The song "wonderful life" is by far the best song on the album with its gritty electro-nu metal guitar groove and its anthemic vocal melody in the chorus raising a defeatist toast to growing old and burning out. The pop influences are still easily palpable, but taking a support role rather than the lead, with the band driving the song with the down-tuned metal riffage they do well that made Suicide Season and the best parts of Sempiternal.

For what could have been the definitive nail in the coffin for a lot of people like me who hated That's the Spirit, amo is definitely a mixed bag in classic Bring Me the Horizon fashion, but that sure is a lot better than the torturous train wreck I was expecting (especially after hearing "mother tongue" and "medicine" as preliminary singles), and it at least shows that this band does indeed have the potential to do well in this metal-flavored pop niche they're trying to carve out, and by all means I would love for them to do well with it. I think it is important for metal to continue to make good entry-level material for the new generations, and entry-level material that immersed fans can bond with new fans over as well and for younger generations to be able to look back at fondly after diving deep into the wonderful world of metal music. I definitely don't think amo is quite that album, but it is a gateway, and it does suggest that somewhere in Bring Me the Horizon's collective creative potential exists that album, which only tenacity and further perfection of this style they've arrived at can uncover.

better than Halsey/10

[mst3kproject]

Skullduggery

I do a lot of complaining about movies that aren’t about anything.  Well, here is a movie that’s trying far too hard to be about something, to the point where it leaves its storyline an utter incomprehensible shambles.  It has in common with The Final Sacrifice that it’s a low-budget Canadian production, and there are a few terrible ‘medieval’ sequences as awful as anything in Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell.  Mostly, though, I’m reviewing it because it’s just fucking weird.  We’re talking Overdrawn at the Memory Bank weird here.

Long ago, some wizard laid a curse on all the descendants of some guy.  In the 1980’s, either the last descendant or the reincarnation of the cursed guy is a dude named Adam, who works at a costume shop and plays Dungeons and Dragons with his friends in the basement.  At a talent show where nobody shows any sort of talent whatsoever, the curse takes over and Adam becomes unable to distinguish real life from his D&D game, so he goes on a killing spree.  When the Dungeon Master tells him his character has been hired to assassinate a sorceress dressed in white, he goes out and kills women in nurse’s uniforms. Told to fight the Apostles of Hell at the Villa Evil, he goes to a club called Villa Evil and murders a bunch of the cultists who hang out there.

Guess how it ends.  Did you guess that the cops shoot him down without asking any questions? Congratulations.  That’s exactly the caliber of shitty movie we’ve got here.

I’m going to get my most pedantic complaint out of the way first.  Throughout the film, Skullduggery’s characters use the Latin phrase Diabolus me adiuvet, meaning so the Devil help me.  Thing is, diabolus me adiuvet is in the indicative case, and means the devil helps me as a statement of present fact.  If it’s a thing the speaker wishes should happen, as in may the devil help me, it ought to be in the subjunctive: diabolus me adiuvaret.  This is what happens when you get your Latin from fucking Babelfish.  Also, does anybody actually play tabletop games like it’s a ritual, with candles burning and solemn expressions on their faces? The games I’ve been to tended to have episodes of Scrubs on TV in the background and impassioned arguments over whether Courtney was allowed to roll diplomacy against the wasps.

Skullduggery has several themes.  The one I find the most interesting is that of costumes.  Adam works at a costume warehouse, commits most of his murders while in various costumes, and goes to a masquerade party.  The movie toys with the idea that dressing up as somebody else brings out our true self, but where it really seems to be going, especially with Adam’s multiple costume changes during his Club Evil killing spree, is that costumes give us anonymity.  Adam can kill because he’s anonymous, and is caught when he accidentally reveals his name. The partygoers at Villa Evil can live out their fantasies because they are anonymous and will suffer no consequences – once we know their names, they have to die.  Anonymity brings out the worst in humanity, as anybody who’s ever turned on anon asks can attest.

But costumes are a relatively minor motif here.  The movie’s main theme is that of temptation.  We see several images of the temptation of Eve in the garden of Eden: a mysterious figure assembles a puzzle bearing a medieval-style image of Adam, Eve, and the serpent, and the first victim of our protagonist (also named Adam… perhaps the ‘curse’ is not so much about the wizard but about the expulsion from Eden?) is a girl playing Eve in the talent show.  In the opening scene the evil wizard offers the medieval lord a poisoned apple, and it seems to be the sight of the apple in the play that triggers Adam to kill the actress.  Adam is ruled by temptation.  When the lust for blood comes over him, he never even tries to resist it.

He is not alone in this plight.  Other characters are shown to be tempted by various things, and respond with immediate indulgence.  The two nurses are tempted by sex, to the point where one comes very close to attempting rape.  One of the players of the D&D game makes sexual innuendos at every opportunity. The actors at the talent show dive on the beer and nachos the magician offers to them.  The medieval guy at the beginning sold his soul for power.  When Adam arrives at the Villa Evil, the cultists offer him all his fantasies made real, and one of the women there tells him there are only two absolutes: money and power.  I never actually counted but I’m pretty sure all seven sins show up and nobody ever even tries to say no.  The Devil, through his temptations, rules us all.

The Devil appears in Skullduggery in multiple forms. He lurks in the back of random scenes in the shape of a jester puppet with a nightmare-inducing grin.  Once the police have gunned Adam down they find only the puppet inside his costume, suggesting that the devil has indeed claimed him body and soul.  He also appears as Dr. Evil, the head of the satanic cult that meets at the Villa Evil – the DM says that the leader of the Apostles of Hell is the Devil himself, and we also watch Dr. Evil putting together the Adam and Eve puzzle, which harks back to the fortune teller informing Adam that his life is a puzzle only the devil can solve.

Since Dr. Evil also turns out to have been Chuck the DM, the implication is that the Devil is the game-master not only of this particular roleplaying club, but of all the characters’ lives.  It also seems to tell us, perhaps not intentionally, that Jack Chick is right and roleplaying games are a gateway to Satanism!  By obeying the DM’s orders to murder and pillage within the world of the game, the players are allowing the Devil to rule their souls, and they will all be destroyed by him as surely as Adam was!  Or something.

Then again, maybe not – because Adam kills the various cultists and at the end the suit of armor, which appears to represent his ghost, murders the GM, who was Dr. Evil.  The fortune teller said that if Adam were lucky God could also solve his puzzle… so maybe this whole time Adam was actually an instrument of divine vengeance? The people he killed can be seen as sinners – the proud actress, the lusty nurses, the decidedly shifty fortune teller, and the rapists and temptresses at Club Evil.  Perhaps the movie is reminding us that even the Devil is part of God’s plan, that in the words of an anonymous fifteenth century poet, nor had one apple taken been, the apple taken been/then had never our Lady a-been heaven’s queen.

So yeah, there’s all of that in a movie the filmmakers clearly thought was very deep and meaningful, and since I can tell what they were on about for the most part, they must be said to have met with some success.  However, all this heavy symbolism and pessimistic outlook on human nature is crammed into a crappy slasher movie with a terrible script and abysmally low production values!  Much of Skullduggery is so dark you can barely tell what’s going on, and there’s not a single line in it that sounds natural.  Characters say things like so hard to say where the game begins and life ends.  I think the only direction given to the people in the ‘talent show’ sequences was act badly.  Once we get to Club Evil, the plot just wanders off to have a coffee and leaves us to sit and watch Adam wandering around murdering random people.

Then there’s the apparently symbolic content I did not discuss above… and I honestly can’t decide if these parts are symbolic or if they just got thrown in there because somebody thought they sounded fucked-up and cool.  What’s up with Simcoe the lipstick-wearing Magician, who shows up, does his act, and never appears again?  What is the significance of the one girl's itchy ankle? What’s up with the horny doctor in the gorilla suit?  Why is there a guy in a bathrobe with a tic-tac-toe game on the back of it?  Why do characters call a phone sex line that actually just tells lame jokes?  Why does Adam wear a bunny suit to kill the woman obsessed with Sarah Bernhardt?

Or maybe Adam’s not killing people at all.  He stabs the fortune teller in the neck with a dagger, but the news report claims she had a heart attack.  The same thing happens to one of the nurses: he stabs her in the temple, yet she’s found on the floor by her colleagues who also diagnose a heart attack.  Is this evidence for the ‘divine justice’ theory?  Or is it meant to suggest that Adam is just happening across people who are about to die, and hallucinating that he is killing them – as Dr. Mustache suggests in It Lives by Night?  But how does that tie in with the cops arriving and finding a bloodbath at Club Evil?  Does witnessing deaths drive Adam to murder?  I don’t know!  At this point I’m as confused as Spoony!

MST3K could have done so much with this one.  I’m positive Simcoe the Magician would have visited the SOL to puzzle and amaze.  Tom and Crow could have played D&D with Pitch the Devil as their DM.  The horny doctor in the gorilla suit could have made things very uncomfortable for Pearl and Bobo.  They doubtless would have heaped more abuse on Canada, but I can’t deny that our indie movie scene is pretty fucking weird.  Anybody out there seen Phil the Alien?

[imagine-loki]

The Baseborn Princess and the Aesir Prince

TITLE: The Baseborn Princess and the Aesir Prince 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a bastard daughter of a king of a far off realm, the product of his drunken loneliness at battle. His guilt of cheating on his wife drove him to send you to live on Midgard, but due to the fact that his other children (and his wife) adore you, you’re often invited to visit. RATING: Teen and Up

Clodagh finally pulled herself together enough to breathe and get to her feet again, looking around, she realised she had made her way outside to one of the side gardens of the palace. There she noticed she had company. ‘At least I know you don’t care what I am.’ Her voice was tight and small. The raven cawed before swooping down to her. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ She smiled, the bird toyed with her hair, as though trying to cheer her up. ‘I need to get away from here.’ It cawed again and took flight, its actions telling her to follow it. She did as requested and found herself somewhat startled when the animal led her to the stables. She walked in and looked at the different horses asleep in their stalls. Only one horse seemed awake, a beautiful midnight black stallion, he watched with curiosity as she walked towards him. ‘Hey, beautiful boy.’ The horse snorted. ‘Yeah, you don’t need to be told that, you know you’re gorgeous.’ she extended her hand and let the animal smell it, the horse raised its head more and sniffed up her arm to her face, when its nostrils snorted over her, she smiled and blew some air back at the horse, causing its ears to come fully forward and to extend its neck to snort her again, so she repeated her action. ‘Are you broken?’ She asked sadly. The horse snickered. Looking around, she opened the stable door and let the horse out before using a bale of hay to allow her onto its back. Pointing it towards the stables door, she pressed in her heels and the horse cantered off.

She did not stop until she ran out of path, she aimed it at the Bifrost and the horse did the rest, when she got to the far end of it, to the gate itself, she eased the horse to a halt and looked at the golden building. She had no idea how to call the Gatekeeper, or if she could speak to him in hopes to let her pass, but she felt she had to try. Walking in, she was startled to see him standing staring out at the stars. ‘The Allfather has not given you permission to be here.’

‘Is it required?’

‘Usually, but there are extenuating circumstances to everything. Being humiliated in the manner that you were today would certainly be deemed reason enough to not hang around and obtain permission.’

‘Please, I just want to go home.’ she begged.

‘Running from our problems will never solve them.’ Heimdall commented as he walked over to the machine and stuck his sword in. ‘But sometimes distance gives clarity.’

Clodagh had no idea what he meant by his words but she said nothing more other than giving her thanks as the machine came to life and pointed in the direction of Alfheim once more. Walking into it, she felt relieved.

When the machine died down once more, Heimdall looked to Huginn, ‘I think your Master would wish to know what you assisted with.’ The raven cawed back at him and flew off. ‘It will be interesting to see what Loki says to his horse being loose also.’ he chuckled.

*

‘She is on Alfheim.’ Odin declared as he walked into Sika and Lydia’s rooms. ‘She used the Bifrost not ten minutes ago, she returned to her dwelling there.’

‘At least she is safe.’ Lydia sighed in relief.

‘Yes.’ Sika nodded, but he said no more.

‘Sika, may we speak in private for a moment?’ The two queens and the other king looked at the Allfather in concern, but Sika nodded and Frigga and Lydia left the rooms, claiming to need to tell Amelia. ‘You never mentioned her.’

‘How could I, did I not bring enough shame to my family without adding to it by talking freely of it.’

‘Your actions were the shame, not her. That girl has no idea how to act around others, did you have her kept in a farmyard, she doesn’t even know how to curtsy, she came here and has been on an upward slope the entire time.’ Sika looked adequately ashamed. ‘Loki has decided on her, the poor girl has to be trained in years of training in a matter of months, how is that fair to her?’

‘Odin, she….how can you want…’

‘You do realise your daughter is seen as one of the most pure-hearted people in all the realms, don’t you? She is adored by those who know her, your family included, your wife, the woman that has every right to baulk at the sight of her, adores her like a mother should, she stands waiting to accept her as her own but cannot for you do not accept her.’

‘I cannot…’

‘You will not, if you are going to speak, at least be honest man, this is nothing to do with “can”.’ Odin growled. ‘Now, Thor has taken his partner, Loki will have to go to a different realm to get his back, but he will get her, when I tell him where she is.’ There was a knock on the door. ‘Just as I mention, so shall he appear. Enter.’ Loki entered the room. ‘She has returned to Alfheim.’

‘I will go at once.’ He turned to leave, looking at a servant, ‘Have the stables ready my horse.’

‘Your horse is no use to you.’ He turned to look at his father. ‘She used him to get to the Bifrost.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, you heard me.’ Odin chuckled. ‘That animal, that creature known only to be loyal to you has let someone else on his back.’

‘It does not count if it is her.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You have not seen her with animals, Father. They adore her, even your ravens, they fly to find her and she speaks to them….you cannot understand unless you see it, animals love her greatly.’

‘A sign of a good heart.’ Odin nodded. ‘I will see you on your return, I wish you luck, Son.’ Loki bowed and left.

‘He could have had any of those girls.’ Sika stated.

‘Yet he chose your daughter.’ Odin commented. ‘Can you not see so many do not see the means by which she came to be as something to worry about?’

*

Loki arrived at the Bifrost slower than he would have liked, but when he arrived there, he was glad to see his horse. He magicked the horse’s tack on and guided the animal into the Bifrost. ‘I am pretty sure my father asked that the Bifrost remain closed this evening.’ Loki commented as he set eye on the Guardian.

‘Yet here you are, seeking passage.’

‘I have his consent, and you know that. She did not.’

‘After what occurred, I was not going to add to her torment, away from those who were so vile to her, she will be more likely to listen to those of sound mind.’ Heimdall stated before sticking his sword in the gateway once more. ‘She is where she is happiest.’

That told Loki little, but he mounted his horse and had it move towards the Bifrost. When he arrived at the other side, he looked around curiously. He was in a forest, or at the edge of one at least, and close by a small farming house, quaint and beautiful, something told Loki this is where he would find Clodagh. He walked up and knocked on the door, a maid answered. ‘Sorry to bother you, but is there a Clodagh here?’

‘Around back, where else would she be at this hour?’

Loki thanked her and walked around the stone building. Where it was night on Asgard, it was the middle of the day in Alfheim. He was about to turn the last corner when a voice stopped him.

‘He was lovely, the sweetest little hog, you would have loved him.’

Loki could feel his heart swelling when he heard Clodagh, of course she would talk of Mortimer. He glanced around the corner and smiled. She was telling a fox about him, what else would she do, he laughed to himself.

‘You should have heard what she said Rua.’ Loki’s heart crushed in his chest at the heartbroken tone of her voice. ‘I should never have gone there, they all just looked at me, they knew the truth.’

Loki turned the corner to see the fox nudging her in a consoling manner. ‘Clodagh?’

She looked up, shocked to see him there. ‘What…?’

‘So this is Rua?’ He walked over.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to speak with you.’

‘Why?’

‘To see if you are okay, what that….what she did, she had no right.’

‘It is true, though.’

‘That is why you never thought you belonged at the choosing with others?’ Loki sat beside her. ‘Why you are so different.’

‘I’m a Bastard.’ she stated sadly.

‘I didn’t even think that sick term was still in use. Do you know on Jotunheim, as there is no marriage, though they are monogamous, they are not wed, so there is no such thing as….well, that word.’ Loki looked at her. ‘What...how….?’

‘In the war, Sika….he, well, we know what he did. I don’t know if she was a healer, she died when I was born, I killed her. That’s why I have no idea why I am called after the Clodagh.’

‘She’s….’ Clodagh nodded. ‘I am sorry.’

‘I never knew her.’ Clodagh shrugged.

‘I would think that worse, you never felt her love.’ She gave a small head shake. ‘I’m so sorry. It is my fault.’

‘How?’ Clodagh pondered.

‘If I did not exist, you would not have caught Laura’s attention.’

‘That makes no sense.’

‘Neither does blaming yourself for her attacking you like that, yet you seem to think it is.’ Clodagh said nothing back. ‘It’s beautiful here.’

‘Yes, it is.’ She gave a weak smile and looked around.

‘So, this is Rua, where’s Pua, and why do they rhyme?’

‘That was not intentional.’ She giggled as she dried some tears.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘How can I tell someone I am a bastard?’

‘Please stop using that word, it is horrible.’ He pleased.

‘It’s what I am though, a filthy, sordid bastard, I am nothing but a terrible reminder that my mother was a harlot and my father an adulterer, I am not worthy of even being allowed in the presence of decent men, I am the last…’ Loki did not know how to silence her any other way, he had to tell her to stop ridiculing herself so viciously and also display his emotions all at once, so he pressed his lips to hers, praying that she felt the same. ‘What…?’ She looked at him befuddled when he pulled back. ‘Why?’

‘I love you. I am completely in love with you. You have no idea of court etiquette, you talk to animals and there is not a member of my family you have introduced yourself to properly and if you are not the woman I have by my side for the rest of my life then I want no woman.’ He declared.

‘But...I’m…’

‘Do not dare call yourself that again, ever, please, never. That word is nothing but letters next to each other to make a sequence of sounds, that does not make you. You are so kind, gentle and sweet, I could never want another. For Norn's sake, you get drenched to tend to hedgehogs, you come home from a terrible experience and you talk to a fox, you are so unique and perfect that the idea of you ever changing breaks my heart, I cannot bear to even think about it.’

‘But I am not good enough for you.’

‘You risk illness to look after a hedgehog, how in the Norns do you think I can find a woman better than that. I am not able to think of another as kind-hearted as you, that is why I know you are good enough, I love you, Clodagh.’ He admitted. ‘Legitimately born or not, I love you.’

Loki spent the evening with Clodagh at the dwelling she called home, it was quaint and well tended and showed how she had never known to be a princess, as she had no sign of being raised as one. ‘Not very fancy, is it?’ She asked, looking at him as he looked around her room.

‘No, but that does not mean anything bad, look how incredible you are.’ He played with her hair.

They fell asleep that night after hours of talking with one another. The bedroom door was open and the maids of the house knew nothing beyond a few kisses and talking occurred. When they woke in the morning, Loki spent his time encouraging her to come to with him to Asgard, it was difficult, but he finally persuaded her.

They sat on his horse and slowly walked to the city, Clodagh insisting that they had to be slow and steady, it was only fair. To the horse as there were two people on his back instead of one, causing Loki to again realise how caring she is.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND ENGLAND

So when you look at something like Reddit and think I wish I could say it became a gateway into a wider world, but in fact I found my stories pretty boring; what excited me was the idea of the greatest fortunes in countries like England and France were made by courtiers who extracted some lucrative right from the crown—like the right to collect taxes on the import of silk—and I think much of the design and manufacturing happens in a long supply chain, whose products the car companies ultimately assemble and sell. But they said no, so Facebook moved to Silicon Valley is not even a nationalistic one. We could see from old TV shows and yearbooks and the way adults acted that people in the 1950s and 60s had been even more conformist than us. At any given time, you're probably happiest on the main branches of the evolutionary tree pass through the languages that have the smallest, cleanest cores. What they really dislike is the sort of spin added by politicians is woven through it. The reason I want to know what languages will be like in a hundred years as it is today. If you actually want to compress the gap between acceptable and forbidden topics is usually based on how intellectual the work sounds when described in research papers, rather than how important it is to predict it. And why did Bricklin and Frankston write VisiCalc for the Apple II?

So it is with design. It's because staying close to the main branches of an evolutionary tree. The late 19th and early 20th centuries had been a book. They can tell at a young age that a contest where everyone wins is a fraud. Instead he'll spend most of his projects. After all, they're just a subset of lists in which the best work they can, which is why people are still arguing about whether worse is actually better or not. I enjoy it. Statues to be cast in bronze were modelled in wax. Europeans didn't introduce formal civil service exams took years, as prep school does today.

The ideas start to get mixed together with the spin you've added to get them past the readers' misconceptions. New technology and new jobs both come disproportionately from new companies. Every futon sofa in Cambridge seemed to have the same fat white book lying open on it. But there can't be too much of a distraction. This explanation also suggests why wisdom is such an elusive concept: there's no such thing as genius. Actually that's not true. In addition to the concentration that comes from specialization, startup hubs are also markets. One is that software is so complicated that patents by themselves are not worth very much. But there can't be too much of a distraction. The other thing I repeat is to give people everything you've got, right away. Now it's the career of thousands. The company that says they're going to invest your time in something with a small chance of succeeding, you'll only do it if there is a lot of subsidiary questions to be cleared up after the handshake, and if you want, but not like it used to be.

I grew up there were only 2 or 3 of most things, precisely because they can't measure and thus reward individual performance. If your startup grows big enough, however, you'll start to get sued much by established competitors. When we describe one as smart, it's shorthand for smarter than other three year olds. Could a programming language like marble. Most startups that succeed do it by just writing code. More on them later. I'm still not always sure I'm giving the right advice.

If you want to stay upwind. Not entirely bad though. Whether or not computers were a precondition, they have certainly accelerated it. And you want to stop too, because doing deals is a pain. Unfortunately, patent law is inconsistent on this point. Even now I think if you asked hackers to free-associate about Amazon, the one-click patent, for example. It would not work well for a language where you have to change your name, a deal falls through—these are all par for the course. Perhaps dramatically so, if automation had decreased the need for some kind of lowest common denominator. And for programmers the paradox is even more pronounced: the language to learn, if you measure success by shelf space taken up by books on it particularly individual books on it, or by the number of startups. So what, the business world may say.

Thanks to Paul Buchheit, Sam Altman, Jessica Livingston, and Qasar Younis for reading a previous draft.

[readyaiminquire]

Part 2 - The future was yesterday.

This is the second (somewhat delayed) post on microchipping, transhumanism, and techno-utopian ideas, based on my fieldwork in Sweden. The first part can be found HERE, and the introductory post HERE. Enjoy, and stay tuned for Part 3!

The sun was shining over Sweden, summer had finally come it seemed. The beaches along the city were packed with people of all ages enjoying the cool sea and the bright skies. I was sitting at a café in the marina waiting for Jacob, a local Helsingborger and entrepreneur who had been one of the early proponents of microchip implants in Sweden - though he later informed me that he had stumbled into the whole thing as an off-shoot of his interest in body-modification (something made abundantly clear by several visible tattoos and a handful of piercings). His reason for pursuing these particular implants? Childhood sci-fi, of course! But it did not take long for the implants to begin to morph into something more than a futuristic 'cool factor'.  Soon they began to represent the gateway to a new future, a better future, as he saw it. It was a future he needed to work for, to be involved in. "This technology, and many others, will inevitably shape the future," he told me, about the current implants "and even if it's not these chips specifically, I hope they develop further, it starts here. Or it started here, I should say" - Tomorrow was already being shaped, being outlined, being developed. "Sure, I'm a businessman. I like to see myself as a pragmatist. I don't care much about the ideology here - biohacker, transhumanists, whatever. Not my problem. It doesn't matter. There are bigger things to worry about than infighting over details". Despite this pragmatic approach, he made it clear to me that he wasn't just here for the money, however, though that did without a doubt help: "I want my little ones to grow up in a better world than we have - and sure as hell not one that's worse". Despite the inherent techno-optimism, the recurring conviction across most people I spoke to that technology can reshape the world for the better, it also began to emerge that this future world wasn't given. It wasn't necessarily bound to happen. What was inevitable was technology and its development, but not its application.

The future needed to be built, and to some extent, fought for.

These techno-utopists weren't just philosophers waiting for the inevitable to come to them. Ideologically speaking, it was even frowned upon not to have any practical involvement. Technological direct action was the order of the day. Their involvement could take many different shapes, for example like Jacob above with entrepreneurialism. Other people were running community events, while others still fancied themselves inventors. The possibilities and overlap were, of course, endless. What mattered the most, however, was your involvement. A person that exemplifies this mindset is Ethan. In his own words, in the midst of his "small side project" to crack telepathic communication. The sci-fi inspiration is very clearly visible - Ethan even saying as much, having drawn inspiration from the video game series Deus Ex. It is also important to understand that this wasn't some crack-pot idea; Ethan had done his research, undoubtedly, as outlined in the previous post. So, he set off to create a new polymer that should in theory be sensitive enough to pick up on this: mixing chemicals in his student dorm room. Though some of this makes Ethan sound a bit mad, I think it is important to highlight the absolute seriousness of the endeavour. His solution may not be perfect, but the idea that he can create something - find some solution - that someone else can then build upon is central to the ideology. It is how the community itself engages with the world to build the future they hope for. In Ethan's own words: "some people come to the forums, or a YouTube comment section, and just talk about how amazing this or that would be. Well, have you done anything? No? Your ideas aren't that original, so at least try to make something with them. Try to make a difference, so that these things can actually become a reality."

Despite this focus on doing, there remains a sense of the inevitable wrapped up in the overall world view. It is, however, related to technological development, and not so much about what technology is used for. That is what needs to be ensured. If looking at the world today is anything to go by, according to my informants, we have a lot of work ahead of us. As things stand now, innovation is understood to be too centralised in the halls of governance, or among multinational corporations. In this sense, remaining uninvolved is not only naïve but dangerous. Given technology's near-limitless potential, leaving it to "somebody else" to develop and innovate is tantamount to signing away any claim on the future - especially if this power is concentrated among global corporations and centralised states, often understood as having dubious intents at best. This may come across as somewhat paranoid, but my informants made the case that as long as you looked around at recurring data leaks, targeted ads, tracking technologies - all of this linked to a phone you almost invariably always carry with you. Add to this that we often lack insight into how these many systems (from targeted ads to location tracking, and beyond) function. This "black boxing" serves to limit the true extent to which digital practices might affect us and society beyond us. In short, the case that was made to me is that as much as these potentially Orwellian technologies are already upon us, so is the digital extension of ourselves. The data gathered constitutes what my informants, and other researchers, call a digital body, or data body. As one phrased it: "I think all of this would change if people saw data as themselves. It's not just their data, and it's not just data, it is them." Put bluntly, there is no ontological difference between our selves and our data selves. The great tragedy and our predicament is, therefore, that we are effectively cut off from these digital extensions of ourselves by the centralised nature of current digital practices. We cannot understand ourselves as fully free subjects as long as we are tethered to a data-body in chains.

The solution is quite straightforward: a democratisation of technology. This is, in effect, what the practical involvement outlined above is all about. This countercultural streak is by no means new within these types of movements - Biohackers, DIY science, and other forms of open science often operating with an intent to resist and change currently established structures. Even the very early days of Silicon Valley were shaped by a willingness to stand against what was then seen as hyperrationalised social structures, or in simpler terms: a bureaucratic system where the individual has no choice but to follow the path the system expects you to take. In short, imagine the rigid social expectations of the 1950s and 1960s. This approach, sometimes called "soft resistance", as a means of subvert already established practices is still as present today as it was at the height of the countercultural movement in the 60s. The focus has of course changed. The concern of reconnecting with your digital body is a symptom of the wider systemic resistance: specifically a resistance against a power structure which has, unlike that of the 1950s and 1960s, melted into the background. I mentioned above that Silicon Valley used to be a centre of this anti-bureaucracy rebellion, specifically hoping to turn technology against these structures. The late Mark Fisher, aka K-Punk, a fantastic cultural theorist, outlines in his essay Capitalist Realism that capitalism as a system is outstanding at incorporating critiques against it and declawing it. Continuing with the Silicon Valley example: despite its origins as a countercultural project, this too has been incorporated by capital. Capital has assimilated, as Delfanti summarises, "the normative [drive] towards horizontality, participation, cooperation, giving, flat hierarchies and networking" without disrupting its systemic reproduction. In other words, it has 'declawed' this former resistance, but as is evident by our data selves, its socially oppressive tendencies of the past remain - even if they are obscured.

More concretely, this manifests itself in the archetype of the comprehensive designer. This itself a call-back to the 'original' counterculture, is a character coined by M. Buckminster Fuller, a leading thinker at the time. The comprehensive designer is not an engineer, nor a designer or inventor; neither an academic, nor architect, not a captain or a leader. Rather, they are all of these, while at the same time none. There exist an inherent universality to a comprehensive designer, understood as having the ability to step outside of the system and see it as a whole. This not only makes them highly adept at understanding society, but it also makes them exceptionally well suited for changing it, specifically because they're capable of disengaging from bureaucratic structures that invariably need to classify them. Though I would argue no-one can step outside of their own cosmology or ideology - indeed, as Zizek says, "the tragedy of our predicament when we are within ideology is that when we think that we escape it into our dreams, at that point we are within ideology" - but this is not the point. Instead, the comprehensive designer acts as the ideal individual subject my informants are aiming to be. The comprehensive designer is, in effect, the resistor par excellence.

  Selected references:

  DELFANTI, A. 2013. Biohackers: The Politics of Open Science, Pluto Press.

  FISHER, M. 2009. Capitalism Realism: Is there no alternative? Zero Books.

  FULLER, R. B. 1963. Ideas and Integrities: A spontaneous autobiographical disclosure. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

  LYON, D. 2010. Liquid Surveillance: The Contribution of Zygmunt Bauman to Surveillance Studies. International Political Sociology 4, 325–338.

  NAFUS, D. & J. SHERMAN 2014. This one does not go up to 11: The quantified self movement as an alternative big data practice. International Journal of Communication 8, 1784–1794.

  TAMMINEN, S. & E. HOLMGREN 2016. The Anthropology of Wearables: The Self, The Social, and the Autobiographical. Ethnographic Praxis in Industry Conference Proceedings 2016, 154–174.

  ŽIŽEK, S. 2012. The Year of Dreaming Dangerously. Verso.

  ŽIŽEK, S 2012 A Pervert's Guide to Ideology (transcript / subtitles). Found online here: https://zizek.uk/the-perverts-guide-to-ideology-transcriptsubtitles/ (Last accessed: 16/03/2020)

  Cover image source:

Arthur Sadlos @ Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/artursadlos/art/Cyberpunk-City-683952796