#I was just so bored by the lack of action in my sphere that I just kinda didn't have anything to say and read a long ass fic instead

[statementlou]

.

[the-and-sign-anon]

First Spark

Word count: 6,000

Trigun Masterlist

In your years on the planet of Gunsmoke, you’d become an incredible shot and a nearly impossible target. While the Humanoid Typhoon could come whirling into a town with the best intentions and the worst luck, only to be chased out by bounty hunters or fearful townspeople, you arrived and departed with all the fanfare of a wheezing breath. 

You never took a shot you couldn’t make, never wasted a bullet. No one could hit what they couldn’t see, so you ensured they never saw you to begin with. Each town was visited for no more than a few days, just long enough to rest and resupply. When things went according to plan, no one ever even knew you were there. 

Your quiet stop one day in a town called Wraithwind was made much louder when a red clad gunman came tumbling through your window and into your motel room. He collapsed on the wood floor with a pitiful whine and a gentle apology. And just like that, your life was irrevocably changed. 

If pressed, you couldn’t explain why you took to following him around. Maybe it was because you were curious to a fault. Maybe you pitied him. Maybe you were just a masochist and wanted to see yourself suffer. 

You stuck with Vash for a long time, occasionally taking bullets for him and arguing over when he was allowed to cry for your injuries. Most days you just looked after him. You were only human and when you spent as much time with him as you did, it wasn’t too difficult to realize that he wasn’t. But that never stopped you from defending him, rarely with words but always with actions. 

Knives became aware of you after a run-in with Legato Bluesummers. His faithful disciple had been prepared to taunt Vash and ridicule him for his feeble attempts to look after humanity. He hadn’t quite seen you coming, which was exactly what you’d hoped for. A few quick, perfect shots had him running out of town with a venomous warning to watch your back. 

He was all too happy to report back to Knives, who took an immediate interest in you. Efforts were made to learn more about you, then to see you for himself. In a rare excursion beyond his sphere of influence, Knives made a personal trip to meet you. 

On a cold night too far from any town to rent a room, you took first watch while Vash curled up in a little cave to rest. The wind was light, slowly but surely reshaping the ever-shifting dunes. The moons were glowing brightly enough to illuminate your surroundings, but you were paranoid enough to keep your guard up. 

Knives approached silently, slowing as you locked eyes and drew your weapon. It was held at the ready, but you didn’t try to fire. You were smart enough (or stupid enough) to let him get close first. When he was ten feet away, you raised a hand. 

“That’s close enough. What do you want?”

He tilted his head and studied you in the dim light. 

“You’re the one my brother is so fond of?”

You hardly looked special at first glance. His words were enough for you to brace your weapon aimed at his chest. 

“Relax, simple creature. If I intended to kill you now, you would never have seen me coming.”

“Funny, I could say the same.”

“Then lower your weapon.”

“You first.”

How you could have known his blades were poised to strike, he wasn’t sure. No one could predict his movements, so he chalked it up to paranoia. Regardless, he let the blades retract and watched you holster the gun. 

“I’ll only ask one more time. What do you want?”

“To know why my brother is wasting his time running around the desert with such a boring creature. Surely he has better things to do.”

If you were offended by his words, you didn’t show it. Not that he would have cared, beyond perhaps a small bit of satisfaction. 

“I’m sure he does. But he’s the one who crashed through my window.”

Knives clearly lacked patience for your answers. He didn’t know what that response meant, nor did he care to learn. 

“Explain yourself. Why do you insist on following him?”

“Got nothing better to do. And I think he’s rubbing off on me, at least enough that I’d feel bad to ditch him now.”

Despite your better judgment, you kept talking to Knives. He clearly detested you, but you answered the questions he asked about Vash. You assured him that his brother was eating, resting whenever you could force him to, and still wearing that bright red coat. He bristled at that, though he knew it would have been wishful thinking to hope that might have changed. 

Neither of you could be sure how much time passed, but you yawned eventually and looked back at the dark cave. 

“Alright. As much fun as this has been, I need some rest. Vash is already bound to complain that I let him sleep too long. I’d guess you don’t intend to be here when he-” 

When you glanced back, Knives was already gone. Huh. No one can catch you unawares like that.

It went on like that for weeks. You never told Vash, though you couldn’t really be sure why. He admitted to you eventually that he was looking for his brother. He never elaborated much, never explained what drove them apart; but you knew it must have been bad. On nights you couldn’t reach a town though, Knives appeared again and again. 

Despite yourself, you slowly let him see more and more of you. Despite himself, he did the same. Like the first sparks of a fire, you started to see specks of light in each other. 

You could see it in the way he talked about Vash, loving him regardless of how they fought. He spoke about humans like dirt beneath his heel, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel offended. He never really explained, but you knew he had to have been hurt deeply to feel this way. You never asked, just as you never asked Vash. Regardless, you could see his light in his passion, his pride in his abilities, even the way he insists he could kill you at any time. 

“I’d skewer you before you could even cry for my brother.”

“I know your brother. He’d make you bleed same as me, assuming I don’t shoot you first.”

You never acknowledge when the threats lose their bite. 

Knives, as much as he hates it, sees something in you eventually. He can hear the weariness in your voice when you share the barest hints of your life before his brother came crashing into it. He sees the scorching fire in your eyes when you describe what you did with troublemakers before Vash came along. How little mercy you believed yourself to be capable of without the motivation of avoiding Vash’s tears. 

Unfortunately, good things rarely last, even when you refuse to admit that they’re good. 

You just needed some time to yourself. So you let Meryl and Milly tag along with Vash while you went to the next town over. You’d promised to come back soon with enough money from odd jobs to keep Vash’s belly full for three weeks at least. He was too busy bickering with the insurance girls to argue against your excursion, so off you went. 

You didn’t see any of them again for a long time. 

It was supposed to be as easy as you’d promised. Then some idiots with more bullets than brain cells got involved. You had just stepped into a general store to ask around for work. All you needed were some simple answers. But more than a dozen bandits surrounded the place and the fighting started. You’d never been overwhelmed by a fight before. But you hadn’t been in a fight without Vash since you met. You hadn’t been in a fight with concern for anyone’s life but your own since you’d met him either. 

With instincts you’d only formed since traveling with the Humanoid Typhoon, you rushed to protect the innocents, and paid dearly for it. Before you truly understood what had happened, you were knocked out and shot, left to bleed out among others while the gang took everything they could and ran. 

Your mind was a complete blank when you awoke in a ramshackle clinic in what remained of the town. The doctor and nurse helped you get back on your feet, but you had nowhere to go. You had been far enough away that Vash and the girls didn’t know what happened to you and you had no memory of them. So you remained there for nearly two months while you recovered. 

Knives tried to visit exactly once in that time, only to discover that Vash was alone and you were nowhere to be seen. He refused to try again, instead trying to puzzle out why he wanted to see you at all. You were a disgusting, twisted, vile human just like all the others. You existed to hurt and haunt and ruin everything you touched. He didn’t need you, Vash didn’t need you. No. He wouldn’t go back again, he would wait for Vash to find him and they’d have their grand argument again and either the spider or the butterfly would live. You were neither, you were nothing. 

When Vash was forced to accept that you had gone your own way and left him behind, he kept moving. The girls were worried about you, of course, but he had always thought deep down that you’d leave him. Even his dearest friends wised up to the danger of his proximity eventually and diverged paths. He just wished you would have said goodbye to him first. 

The last thing any of them expected after Vash bested Knives and dragged his battered body to the nearest town to recover was to find you. Although, it wasn’t quite you, but it could be again. 

You’d taken on a new name, offered by the children you’d saved that fateful day. You had a new purpose, taken up in the memory of the people you failed to save that day. Like being reborn, you had departed from that broken town to hunt down the gang that left you there. 

It took two years, but you slaughtered every last one. You stalked them, ripped them apart, cut them down even in the homes a few had made. Some buried part of you knew someone would weep for their blood on your hands, but it wasn’t you. 

When you found the last one, he was hiding in a town not far from November. Vash had found his way there as well, with his slowly rehabilitating twin and his three friends in tow. They’d all agreed to stick together and look after Knives, at least until Vash was sure the threat he posed was minimal. Even when Knives could manage just fine on his own, no one in the group broached the idea of splitting up. 

While he didn’t understand and could not wrestle an answer from Knives, Vash supervised a short walk each night in the light of the five moons. Were it not for Knives’ stubbornness in doing so, he wouldn’t have seen you again. 

You stalked across the rooftop towards an open window. Foolish. It was easy to slip in, draw a blade, and approach the bed where the final gang member slept soundly. You were poised to strike when a set of light footsteps approached. In an instant, you were back out the window watching as a child swung open the door and padded over to the man. 

His voice was thick with sleep, but he ushered the child into bed and shuffled his pillow aside for them to share. Complaints of a nightmare were gently shushed and you drew back further. Luck had abandoned you tonight, but you were sure it would return soon enough. You could bide your time. 

Knives was staring around him with intense suspicion as Vash watched him walk. He didn’t trust his brother, as much as he wished he could. The elder twin was under his constant watch, free of him only when he was resting and was replaced by Wolfwood or Meryl and Milly. 

His eyes caught on a flash of movement on a rooftop. His steps faltered, quickly mirrored by Vash. 

“What?”

“Look.”

He didn’t point, but Vash caught it himself soon enough. You were just hopping down into a dark alley as the twins approached. Vash kept one hand on his gun while Knives formed two blades ready to strike. You tucked your hood up over your head and turned to leave, then froze in place. 

“Y/N?”

Knives kept his blades drawn, but Vash raised his hand to his mouth in shock. He was sure you were gone forever. No note, no letters, nothing. Why were you here now?

Your brow furrowed. You hadn’t heard that name since…

Knives knocked aside the knife you threw, sending it bouncing to the ground harmlessly. You never missed. So how had he done that?

“Y/N, it’s okay; Knives is with me!”

Vash hurried to step in front of his brother and raise his hands in a placating gesture.

“Who are you?”

The despair set in immediately. Vash’s breath caught in his throat and he stepped closer, trying to brush aside the way you tensed up when he did so. 

“Come on, Y/N. It’s me, it’s Vash.”

“Brother, tread lightly. They don’t know you.”

“Please. Y/N, this isn’t funny.”

You drew another knife, but Knives saw it coming and two lengths of dulled blades lurched forward to grab your hands. You struggled as soon as he touched you, fighting to get free even as Knives rounded his brother and approached. Your expression betrayed no recognition of him either, so he made a decision. 

“Vash, trust me for a moment.”

“What?”

He reached out behind him to rest a hand on his arm. 

“Go around the corner. I will release them once you’re out of sight, then I will follow. Now go.”

Vash wanted to argue, but his mind was racing with questions, so he obeyed. You watched with wary eyes as he disappeared from the alley. 

“Y/N-” 

Knives spoke quietly, but you cut him off. 

“That’s not my name. Now release me, whatever you are, so I can kill you.”

He chuckled despite himself. Not because it was pitiful to believe you could accomplish such a task, but because he knew you’d make a valiant attempt.

“Whatever happened to you… it would benefit us all if you returned with us and explained yourself. My brother knows you, whether you are aware of it or not.”

“I’ve never seen either of you before.”

“You have. Just…” He couldn’t even believe he was saying this. “Just be careful, human. Vash… he doesn’t deserve to lose you twice.”

He loosened his grip and you practically melted into the shadows. Knives returned to his twin and they went home to the little house Milly was fixing up for the group to live in. Vash was inconsolable, at least to Knives. He was unwilling to let anyone else try to comfort the weeping blond, but eventually conceded that Milly was far more adept at doing so. And he didn’t feel like admitting that he knew you too, so pretended to have no knowledge beyond your public connection to the group. 

Meryl had a thousand questions Knives couldn’t and wouldn’t answer. He still detested her presence and never spoke to the humans more than needed, so he retired to the room with the best view of the rest of town and watched, as if he’d catch another glimpse of your shadow. 

On another of his walks three nights later, you dropped down from a building, catching Meryl by surprise. She flinched and put a hand to her chest as if to calm her heart. 

“Geez, Y/N.”

She stared at you, trying to reconcile what she’d known of you before with who stood in front of her now. You had always been terse, with a sense of humor even Milly didn’t seem to appreciate and a glare that could stop anyone in their tracks. All the warmth she’d witnessed when you talked with Vash or tended to children was gone now. You were wrapped in a cloak she recognized, but your eyes were vacant as you looked her up and down like a threat. 

“You.” Your gaze locked on Knives. “You spoke to me as if I were familiar to you. Why?”

He tensed up when Meryl waited for him to respond. He knew you’d never told her about the little meetups you had, and he wasn’t about to tell her himself. 

“Why don’t you come back with us and Vash can explain things?”

You stepped back when Meryl tried to reach out, stopping her as pain flashed in her eyes. 

“I’ve heard stories of the Stampede. Why do you believe I’m the person he traveled with? How would you know if I was?”

Knives spared Meryl a look. Vash had trusted him the first time. Meryl wasn’t so open though. After a few seconds of internal debate, she let out a frustrated sigh and retreated to the end of the street. She was still watching, but it was a step in the right direction. 

“Y/N-”

“Nemea. I’m called Nemea.”

He nodded once and tried again. 

“Nemea, then. We don’t just believe you’re my brother’s friend. We know you are. The others have met you, they’ve traveled with you before.”

“What about you?”

“I- I’ve met you. I kept tabs on my brother, I have for years.”

“Then what happened? If I was such a devoted friend, why did I leave?”

“You’re the one who would have answers to that.”

You were skeptical, that much was obvious. But he knew that whatever had happened, you weren’t playing dumb. You wanted answers as much as they all did. So you wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and nodded for Knives to lead the way. 

The night was full of tears, which clearly made both you and Knives uncomfortable. Vash and Milly wept as you explained what you could remember in as much detail as you were willing to share. Wolfwood and Meryl listened closely and when you finished, they forced everyone to go to bed. Meryl made sure the twins were in their rooms before sitting down on the porch with you. 

“Nemea… I’m sorry. You were- you were a good companion for Vash. You’re the only one I’ve never seen him try to run from. If we had gone with you when you left, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that for certain. It’s possible I traveled farther than you think before I got in that fight.”

“But it’s possible you were really that close, too. That we just didn’t know. That we didn’t protect you like you’ve protected all of us.”

“Either way, what’s done is done.”

She fidgeted with her hands and you had a momentary urge to still them. 

“Do you… want to stick around? Try to see if being around us can jog your memory somehow?”

You looked out at the moonlit desert sands beyond town. You’d spent countless nights out there, you knew it. Even before you got in that fight, before that broken town named you Nemea. 

“I suppose… it wouldn’t be the worst idea. But I can’t promise I’ll go back to whoever I used to be. I don’t know what I may or may not remember.”

“I think even getting to know you all over again would be worth it for Vash. And for the rest of us.”

You stayed there when Meryl called it a night. She hoped you would stick around, but could hardly blame you if you didn’t. She had no idea what brought you to town in the first place and tried not to pry. She just left a spare blanket on her chair and went to bed. 

Wolfwood was the first one awake the next morning and found your scribbled note on the kitchen table. You explained that you had gone out for groceries and would return by midday at the latest. Milly and Vash were the most hopeful that things could settle into a new, better normal with you back. They were somewhat mistaken, but considered what they got a victory of its own. 

Every morning, you would assemble some kind of meal for the group. Most days, you went out to work around town, bringing everything you earned back to Meryl to manage expenses. You rarely engaged in their attempts at conversation or even chose to spend much time around them. To his utter shock, Vash watched as you slowly gravitated towards Knives of all people. 

Neither of you ate much or liked sitting at the kitchen table, so you both shuffled out to the back porch with one plate to share at mealtimes. You would watch each other closely, like wary animals preparing for a fight. Everyone tried not to listen in on conversation, but caught a few stories of your travels you shared with Knives on quiet evenings. 

Over the course of several weeks, you formed a tentative bond with the others over the tiniest things you began to remember. Whenever Wolfwood tried to light up around you, you would snatch the cigarette from his hand and scold him, stopping yourself halfway through the first time in confusion. Milly would offer you some of her precious pudding, smiling so wide you wondered how her face didn’t hurt when you accepted as you always used to. 

Whenever you brought the money you earned to Meryl, she would ask how you were doing and wait patiently for a proper answer. You found yourself sitting with her often, more interested in listening than talking, but sitting with her all the same. Vash was the toughest. He so clearly missed you and wanted to be close like you used to be. He tried to offer target practice together, or share his donuts with you. 

Try as you might, your memories of him were just so fuzzy. For over two months, all you could come up with was fleeting moments of the certainty that you often fought back to back. You never felt even the slightest bit nervous to turn your back to him, no matter the circumstances. After three months together, you ruffled his hair for the first time and drove him to tears. 

You’d been listening to Knives play piano. It took some doing, but the group had gotten one fixed up enough for him to tune it and he played it daily. Vash was seated on the bench beside him, hands tucked in his lap, humming softly along with the tune the elder twin played. You had finished cleaning the dishes from breakfast and lunch, drying them off and returning them to the cabinets before allowing yourself a minute to watch. 

Knives was… majestic when he played. His fingers danced across the keys with a mastery you couldn’t even imagine. He never once needed sheet music, though you offered once to look for some if he wanted it. Vash was watching too, his eyes tracing the black and white keys as they moved up and down. You slowly stepped closer, eventually rounding the piano to lean just slightly into Vash’s shoulder.

His eyes darted up to you, watching you close yours and sink into the music. When Knives brought the tune to an end, he looked over. Something in his gut twisted at the way his brother looked at you. As far as he knew, Vash was bonded to Meryl. So why did he look at you with such deep fondness? 

You slowly opened your eyes again in the stillness. Vash was still watching, almost waiting for something. You just narrowed your eyes at him and brought your hand up, ruffling his hair into a mess. 

“Hey!”

He swatted you away on instinct, then stopped short with tears in his eyes. 

“You-”

“What?”

He smiled as the tears began to fall, prompting both you and Knives to watch with mild discomfort. Vash gently touched your hand and you let him guide it back to his head before you ruffled his hair again for good measure. 

“You used to do that all the time…”

You managed a little half smile and stepped away when your gaze drifted to Knives. 

“Well… it’s not my fault. The hair is begging to be messed with.”

You turned away and left the room to shake off the awkwardness. Vash brushed away his tears and flinched when he saw his brother’s glare. 

“What?”

“Do you not have a bonded human already?”

He tilted his head in confusion and Knives continued. 

“The small one, is she not your human? I can hardly imagine you need two.”

Knives didn’t wait for a response before taking his leave as well. Vash just sat there for several more minutes trying to puzzle out what his brother could possibly be talking about. 

The months drifted by as you all learned how to live together. Arguments became few and far between, though there was a healthy amount of mostly good natured bickering. You and Milly were the primary providers for the household, though Meryl, Wolfwood, and Vash found some work here and there. Knives, as per his brother’s direction, spent most of his time resting or simply hiding in the house. You eventually dragged him into helping with chores, which he allowed only you to make him do. 

As your memories slowly began to resurface, you settled in better with everyone. The only person you were entirely honest with was Knives. In the dead of night, when the moons were slim and everyone else was asleep, you admitted to him what had brought you to town all those months ago. You told him about the lives you took, the blood on your hands. You supposed if anyone could understand, it would be him. He swore to you he would keep your secret and for the first time since your mutual agreement to keep your initial meetings secret, you trusted him with the information. 

After a year in that house, where Milly and Wolfwood repaired windows and doors, where Vash cleaned floors while Meryl washed dishes, where Knives played the piano and you hung laundry to dry; you walked back from a long day of work and realized it had become a home. 

You hadn’t had one in so long. The first place you considered as such was burned to the ground in an attack that lit a fire in your eyes like nothing you could possibly ignore. Your childhood died in those ashes and you rose as a killer, a gunslinger intent on never staying in one place again. You had spent so many years hunting, killing, forgetting, remembering, gaining, losing. 

For the first time you could remember, you didn’t have to do anything. You looked at the freshly painted shutters and newly built front steps and knew you could just be. With a light heart, you headed through the door and stopped in your tracks at the scene before you. 

Meryl looked thoroughly exasperated with the twins on the floor, trying to grab each other in a headlock while Wolfwood lightheartedly cheered them on. Milly was absentmindedly preparing to shoot them with her stun gun. 

“Uh… evening, everyone? What is going on?”

Knives paused for a moment at the sound of your voice, allowing Vash the opportunity to grapple him more effectively and trap him on the floor. He growled in frustration, but Vash wasn’t about to let him go. 

“Knives, apologize to Vash.”

“No!”

Your brow furrowed. What had he done now?

“Knives, I’m not letting you go until you apologize! I ask for so little, but I deserve that much!”

You looked at Meryl for an explanation, who ushered Milly and Wolfwood out of the room. She tapped your shoulder and you leaned in close. 

“They’ve been at it for over an hour. I think we both need to talk some sense into them.”

“What happened now?”

“Knives got it in his head that Vash is in love with you.”

You snorted and marched over to the twins. You grabbed them both by one ear and dragged them to sit side by side on the couch. Both winced and rubbed at their ears when you let go. Vash looked like a kicked puppy while Knives gave you his best glare. 

“Okay, boys. Meryl just said one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard. So explain to me what exactly happened and why. Vash, you go first.”

“I didn’t do anything! Knives just attacked me!”

Knives shoved him like a child and you grabbed their arms to prevent it from continuing. 

“Knives, why did you attack him? You guys have been doing so well lately.”

He kept glaring at Vash until you put your hands on your hips. 

“Do I have to send him to the other room so you’ll talk to me?”

He grumbled something, then sighed when you still stared him down. 

“Vash thinks he needs two humans.”

“Vash likes most humans, Knives. Isn’t that what your century long fight was about?”

He huffed. An oversimplification, but not inaccurate. 

“But he thinks he needs two bonded humans. That’s different.”

“Vash, what are ‘bonded humans’ supposed to be?”

The gunslinger smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh… he means being in a relationship. Meryl and I would count as ‘bonded’ in the way he’s talking about.”

You turned back to Knives. 

“And you think Vash feels that way about me?”

“Obviously!”

You guffawed and bent over in wild laughter. Meryl looked completely exhausted as Knives seemed to grow increasingly frustrated. When you managed to catch your breath, you stood back at full height and brushed away your tears of laughter. 

“I’m sorry. Knives, how in the world did you come to that conclusion?”

“He hangs around you constantly.”

“We all live in the same house, he hangs out with all of us.”

“He watches you.”

“Always has, he’s a weird little dude.”

Vash made a pitiful little noise and you waved it off with a reassuring smile. You’d called him weird before, he knew well by now that you considered it a compliment. 

“He cried when you ruffled his hair.”

“Because I had amnesia! Knives-” You knelt down to meet his eye when he refused to look up from the floor. “Vash is the best friend I’ve ever had. He and I stuck together for a long time. It was hard for him when I got amnesia and couldn’t remember him. It was really important for us when I started to remember again.”

“So you were bonded then?”

“No!”

You threw your hands up and gestured for Meryl to take Vash out of the room. Once they were gone, you sat on the couch beside Knives. 

“Knives… I’ve never felt that way about Vash, and he’s never felt that way about me. The kind of love he has for Meryl is something I’ve never seen from him before. He’s my best friend and neither of us would rather have it any other way. Got it?”

Knives slowly looked over at you and nodded. He didn’t like being wrong, but he supposed he didn’t mind this time. 

“Now. Why does all that even matter to you anyway? Is the idea of Vash loving two humans that much more off putting than him loving one?”

“...not exactly…”

“Then what is it? I know you aren’t Meryl’s biggest fan, but you haven’t complained about them being together for a while.”

You were willing to wait as long as you had to for an answer. You well knew by now that Knives took his time crafting answers. He never just rushed into saying anything. So you sat on the couch, twiddling your thumbs, watching the dust particles float through the air in the sunset lighting. 

“I didn’t like the idea of Vash… and you… being bonded.”

“I’m that repulsive, huh?”

Your weak attempt at humor was ignored. 

“My brother loves humans and I can’t change that. I understand that now. He loves Meryl. I can’t change that. I… haven’t cared at all for any human since Rem. I loved her as a child and I hated her when I felt I could no longer see her as blameless in our situation. I hated her for a long time, even when I shouldn’t have. And now that I’m learning how to let go of that, it’s more than a century too late to do anything about it.”

You leaned back on the couch and tucked your feet up. You watched the fading light out the windows while he took a minute to breathe before continuing. 

“What I’m trying to say is… I don’t connect with humans. I don’t want to, I don’t mean to… and against my better judgment, I do care about you. I don’t want Vash to bond with you.”

His words gave out. He couldn’t get any further than that. So you leaned a little, testing the waters. He didn’t jump to his feet or shove you to the floor, which you considered a victory. Knives let your shoulder brush against his, not too close, just enough to feel a whisper of your warmth. 

A part of you wondered how you hadn’t understood what he was feeling. People’s emotions had never been your strong suit, but you were pretty good at reading your closest friends. He was one of them now, or was on his way at least. But it took you a bit by surprise that he cared enough to fight with his brother over the idea of him loving you. 

As the room darkened and cooled, you ran a hand over your hair and watched Knives. His hair had been growing out since Vash brought him to town, but he refused to let anyone cut it for him. It hung around his face, brushing his shoulders and hiding his eyes depending on how he sat. His usually icy blue eyes looked almost gray in the fading light. 

“I’m going to make you a promise. I will never ‘bond’ with Vash. I won’t likely bond with anyone else either, at least for the foreseeable future. And if I do, I’ll make sure they have your seal of approval first.” His gaze flickered up to you. “But, you have to make me a promise in return.”

Knives huffed and hunched up his shoulders. He and Vash shared the ability to make themselves look small and innocent when they really wanted to. 

“You have to promise not to attack anyone else you think likes me. Deal?”

You took one more chance for the night. Your hand reached out to shake, and Knives matched it a few seconds later. Then you stood, letting your loose grip guide him to follow. A clattering sounded from the kitchen as you entered the dining room, clearly spotting Wolfwood as he yanked Milly around the corner. You decided to let their eavesdropping slide for now as the scent of stew reached your nose. Meryl was cooking. 

Dinner was a bit stiff at first, but when you flicked a little stew at Vash and he yelped dramatically, the tension seemed to fracture and things went back to normal. Chatter surrounded the table, everyone tore apart the bread in the center, and Knives gently shuffled his foot to press against yours on the floor. Whenever words came back to him, you’d listen. For now, he communicated what he could and you understood well enough.

[whitehotharlots]

A movement that cannot be criticized cannot achieve positive goals

The hardest part of talking about malignant trends on the broad left is that, well, you’re not allowed to talk about them. It’s no exaggeration to say that criticism has become fully conflated with violence. If you attempt to engage critically with a left-liberal writer--regardless of how thorough and respectful you may be, and regardless of how powerful, public, or insulated the subject of the criticism--you will be accused of dismissing and erasing the writer, of inciting violence against the writer, and of committing some form of genocide against whichever identity groups the writer belongs to.

Conversely, if you don’t provide specifics, you’ll be accused of making stuff up. The same people who claim it’s an act of aggression to ask for proof when they make claims of victimization turn into immense pedants the moment they encounter a heterodox opinion. 

Unsurprisingly, a discourse milieu in which critical analysis is forbidden is a prime breeding ground for unsustainable (and even horrific) behavioral standards. Never mind improving the world that exists outside their sphere of influence... these people are perpetually on the brink of destroying their allies, their institutions, and themselves.

Today I dug into an especially profane case that highlights both of these points. It’s a matter of public record, so I hopefully won’t get accused of “doxing” anyone for discussing it. It’s also the sort of story where if someone cares about it, they’ll have an opinion of it within a second or two of reading a headline describing what happened. This means it’ll only be of interest to the sort of cranks who read this blog. My goal here isn’t to express outrage or advocate for one side or other--although it is outrageous, and you won’t have to try too hard to see which side I favor. Instead, I’m going to try to move beyond that, to use this instance as a broader cautionary tale in regards to the more horrific tendencies of the identitarian left, and to begin formulating some means of resistance. 

In other words, this might get boring. Even more so than usual. 

The story involves a court case, documented here, in which a young man named Kieran Bhattacharya is suing the University of Virginia Medical School. Mr. Bhattacharya (a white supremacist name if I’ve ever heard one) was subjected to formal censure, repeated psychological evaluations, suspension, and eventual expulsion. This all happened because he raised some concerns after a White Fragility-inspired panel on microaggressions.

This is one of those cases where both sides are going to assume there’s a lot more going on beneath the surface and, like I said, are going to be disinclined toward actually reading the available evidence. Thankfully, the court brief is fairly exhaustive and--importantly--the account provided in the brief has received the approval of both plaintiff and defendant. To stress, everyone involved in this case agrees, legally, that the account provided herein is an accurate picture of what happened. Additionally, we also have audio of the initial microaggression seminar (Mr. Bhattacharya’s comments start at around the 28:30 mark), as well as of the pursuant committee meeting that ended in his expulsion. 

Here is the initial exchange, as documented by the brief:

Bhattacharya: Hello. Thank you for your presentation. I had a few questions just to clarify your definition of microaggressions. Is it a requirement, to be a victim of microaggression, that you are a member of a marginalized group? 

Adams: Very good question. And no. And no— 

Bhattacharya: But in the definition, it just said you have to be a member of a marginalized group—in the definition you just provided in the last slide. So that’s contradictory. 

Adams: What I had there is kind of the generalized definition. In fact, I extend it beyond that. As you see, I extend it to any marginalized group, and sometimes it’s not a marginalized group. There are examples that you would think maybe not fit, such as body size, height, [or] weight. And if that is how you would like to see me expand it, yes, indeed, that’s how I do. 

Bhattacharya: Yeah, follow-up question. Exactly how do you define marginalized and who is a marginalized group? Where does that go? I mean, it seems extremely nonspecific.

 Adams: And—that’s intentional. That’s intentional to make it more nonspecific . . . . 

After the initial exchange, Bhattacharya challenged Adams’s definition of microaggression. He argued against the notion that “the person who is receiving the microaggressions somehow knows the intention of the person who made it,” and he expressed concern that “a microaggression is entirely dependent on how the person who’s receiving it is reacting.” Id. He continued his critique of Adams’s work, saying, “The evidence that you provided—and you said you’ve studied this for years—which is just one anecdotal case—I mean do you have, did you study anything else about microaggressions that you know in the last few years?” Id. After Adams responded to Bhattacharya’s third question, he asked an additional series of questions: “So, again, what is the basis for which you’re going to tell someone that they’ve committed a microaggression? . . . Where are you getting this basis from? How are you studying this, and collecting evidence on this, and making presentations on it?”

You can listen to the audio if you like. There’s nothing there, in my opinion, that is not captured accurately in the written description. Bhattacharya does not yell or raise his voice. He sounds skeptical, but in no way violent or threatening. Nor does Adams, the presenter, signal that she is experiencing anything that approaches fear or trauma. 

Immediately after the event, a professor who helped organize the discussion filed a “Professionalism Concern Card”--a cute academic euphemism for a disciplinary write up--against Bhattacharya, alleging he had displayed a troubling lack of respect for differences (the irony here probably does not need to be explicated).

Soon after that--literally still the same day of the panel--Bhattacharya received an email from faculty asking him to “share his thoughts” so as to help him “understand and be able to cope with unintended consequences of conversations.” The tone of the email is polite and professional, but the text hints toward an attempt at entrapment. You’ll see this a lot in woke spaces--invitations to come to an understanding with one another that are, in actuality, attempts to get a person to say something cancellable.

Bhattacharya took the bait, and, well… 

During Bhattacharya and Peterson’s one-hour meeting, Peterson “barely mentioned” Bhattacharya’s questions and comments at the panel discussion. Dkt. 33 ¶ 73. Instead, Peterson attempted to determine Bhattacharya’s “views on various social and political issues—including sexual assault, affirmative action, and the election of President Trump.” 

At this point, the kid was fucked. He soon after had an uneventful-seeming meeting with a dean. Two weeks after that, a separate panel found him guilty of “patterns of unprofessional behavior and egregious violations of professionalism” and strongly encouraged him to seek psychological counseling. 

Pre-Trump, Bhattacharya still probably would have been fine if he had just kept his head down, gone to a couple therapy sessions, and maybe issued an empty apology. Since 2016, however, the rules have changed. An accusation is now absolute proof of guilt and no amount of ablution can save someone in a vulnerable position. 

Eleven days after receiving the ostensible suggestion that he receive counseling, Bhattacharya was informed that he would not be permitted to return to classes until he had been evaluated. A day after that--before even having the opportunity to seek the mandated counseling--he was given a mere 3 hours notice before having to attend another disciplinary committee meeting. 

This meeting found that Bhattacharya’s continuing behaviors were proof that he posed an imminent danger to the campus community, although the committee did not bother to explain what those behaviors entailed. His behavior was simply noted as “unusual” and this was proof that “Any patient that walked into the room with [Bhattacharya] would be scared.” The following day, Bhattacharya was forcibly removed from campus and told he could not return until he had been screened. He was, subsequently, not allowed to receive sanctioned screening, because of his status of having been removed from campus after being deemed a security risk.

Again, none of what I have described is an exaggeration. None of these details are even being contested. 

Now for my own conjecture: the problem isn’t that anyone genuinely believes Bhattacharya poses a threat to anyone’s safety. The problem is that he attempted to question the ideological firmaments of contemporary anti-racist training. These firmaments are protected with aggressive viciousness precisely because they cannot withstand scrutiny. Had Bhattacharya merely scoffed at them, or even if he had been outright condescending and dismissive, he probably would not have received such a severe punishment. The problem was that he was right, and his accusers knew it.

Understanding speech in the manner prescribed by the peddlers of microaggression theory cannot possibly be codified in a way that won't result in arbitrary punishment. Bhattacharya’s experience demonstrates that with horrific irony. 

The assertion here is that the intention of a speech act should have no bearing on how we adjudicate the morality of that speech act--such a point was made repeatedly in the initial discussion, and stressed once again after Bhattacharya’s concerns have been raised. This standard contradicts how we've processed the morality of speech for centuries, but that's what people are very explicitly demanding.

How is this workable, when literally any statement could, conceivably, be considered offensive by at least one individual? This, I feel, was the point Bhattacharya reaching toward. If you were to say, I dunno, "I love trees" to a group of 1000 people, 999 of them could regard that statement as benign. But what if one person takes offense to it? What if they work in the lumber industry, or they were molested by guy in a Smokey the Bear costume? What if that person then files a report accusing the tree lover of offensive speech? Will the speaker be disciplined? Or will the powers that be take intention and effect into account?

Of course, we're not going to criminalize all speech in this way. Like all extreme and broad-reaching disciplinary standards, this one will only be selectively evoked in order to punish people with heterodox opinions and/or those whose presence threatens the status quo. Someone who says something much more incendiary, like "all men are rapists" or "white people shouldn't get social security" would not receive a reprimand regardless of how much offense their statements caused, because they're saying something that's acceptable in our current milieu. And right now, the least acceptable speech is that which shines a light on the manifest flaws and hypocrisies of corporate anti racism. 

Back to my hypothetical example, if the tree-loving speaker was on good terms with everyone, the complaint would most likely be ignored. But if he had said or done other things that for whatever reason displeased the people in charge, the specious accusation could still ruin him. What's worse, the person who filed the allegation of offense might not have even actually taken offense at the statement--they were just looking for a way to get rid of him.

Bhattacharya was attempting to voice legitimate criticisms about a political movement whose suggestions are functionally unworkable and that, even if it were implemented fully and uncritically, does not contain even a hypothetical explanation in regards to how its goals would result in improved racial equality/equity. Because of that, he was cynically labeled dangerous and expelled from a public university. 

You'd think a group that obsesses over power differentials and their own marginalization would have some grasp of this. Regardless of which side you fall into with this particular culture war, it should fucking terrify you that a movement that’s been tasked with addressing pressing social problems is designed in such a way that any substantial criticism is met with aggressive punishment. 

There’s no way you can win if this is you is how conduct yourself. This is why we’re losing. This is why even if you get all the censorship and deplatforming you can ever dream of, even if every major bank and multinational corporatation professes fealty to your movement, you will still lose. Because there’s no way you can win. 

[yandere-wishes]

🖤💔Yandere!Demon Slayers As Demons💔🖤

Dear readers for the first time in two weeks I offer you something that isn't a random post or a rant. This is an AU that I’ve been working on for a while, and seeing how this turns out I might continue it in terms of one shots and a mini series. Please enjoy!!

👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺

Demon Tanjiro is much more complex than his human counterpart. His mood fluctuates too much, alternating between a loving docile young demon desperate for his lover's warm embrace, to a rabid beast who's willing to tear your stomach open with his claws and feast on your entrails while you're still breathing. He's just too unpredictable, what makes him praise you and litter your body with toothy kisses, might just get your arm dislocated the next day. There's just no telling, he just isn't Tanjiro anymore, he's some wild, savage, murderous monster wearing Tanjiro's face.

He's always watching...

His mere gaze isn't enough to turn you into a motionless rag doll. Slumped in the corner like a forgotten toy. No, but his silence is. The way his eyes are locked on you as if your some sort of little bunny that waltzed into his territory, the way his mouth is sewn shut by some invisible thread, the way his head is tilted to the side like he was trying to calculate your next move...it's all too tranquil, too clam, just like the eye of a hurricane. 

Languidly Tanjiro begins to crouch down, his moves are rapid and glitchy as if he isn't in control of his own body. Somewhere you hear something cracking, it's a dreadful noise like hammers pounding at your skull. It's only when you lift your eyes to the Oni in front of you, do you realize the noise is coming from him. It's like he's deforming in some way, dying and regenerating all in a single breath...and yet he still looks so...so beautiful. 

Even while he's stalking towards you on hands and knees, you can't deny how stunning he looks. Mouth molded into a small smile, long rust-colored locks pooling on the ground around him and his eyes... they're red one second and brown the next, changing ever so quickly just like his moods. 

He's much more passive like this, you note as if you've made some sort of groundbreaking discovery. So docile and calm...almost like a storm before it strikes. No, Tanjiro is not a storm you remind your self. He's a lion stalking its prey, relishing in the taunting silence it radiates by its mere presence.

Tanjiro's eyes have lost all hope, all passion. They're nothing more than empty spheres resting in his sockets.

You vaguely remember -or at least you think you do- a time when every action coming from the rust haired boy was entangled in a blanket of passion, every move had a clear purpose, every word was laced with an unyielding fire that had been beaten into his spirit. But now....well you didn't know what he was now, what Mozen and his sadistic "creations" had turned him into. What had they stolen from him? Was it his soul, his hope, or maybe something far worst.

Your amazement only shatters when you notice just how close he's gotten. His icy cold breath tickling the side of your neck. You squirm, pressing your palms flat against his chest. Tangiro doesn't flinch, his head cocks back to the side, his broken stare, vaguely reminds you of a discarded doll. Maybe that's what he is, not a slayer or a demon, just some broken doll that keeps you locked up in his room so that he can get a sense of being needed.

A wave of empathy crashed over you. Wearily you dropped your arms to your side, in a flash Tangiro wraps his long gauntly arms around you, squashing your bones as he pulled you ever so closer to him, nuzzling his visage in the crock of your neck.

Tanjiro Kamado may have once been a remarkable demon slayer on his way to becoming the next water piller of the demon slayer corps...but now he was nothing more than a pitiful broken demon, seeking the feeling of humanity inside a breaking, mortified girl. 

👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

Zenitsu is a lot bolder, a lot pushier with his affection now that he's been turned into a demon. He wants you to love him the way he loves you, only this time he isn't afraid to break a leg or two, so you'll have no choice but to stay with him. 

His child-like tendencies are still there, albeit demented, yet ever-present. The tantrums and endless crying are as frequent as ever...except now, well now he breaks a bone for every tear YOU make him spill and leaves a scar for every time YOU couldn't satisfy him. Just remember that none of this is poor Zenitsu's fault, oh no, how could it be his fault? He's given you everything you could ever dream of! Even though you're nothing more than a pathetic useless human, Zenitsu still took you as his beloved wife! You should be grateful to him, dedicate your every living second to him, play the role of the loving, caring wife! Not some ungrateful brat, who is always trying to run away!

And yet, you've become oddly accustomed to it. No longer do you mind the screams and beatings. They've grown to be a part of you, a sick and twisted thing that resides within you, infecting your every thought. Much like how Zenitsu's become a heartsick, defective shell of his former self.  

"STOP IT"

something shattered against the wall, breaking into a million flying shards.  The noise echoed through the light less room. Weary, your eyes flashed from the broken remains of what may have been an antique vase, to the crying monster in front of you. The tips of his long curved horns were turning a stark blood red, an indication that his blood was starting to boil. Although you didn't need the mood indicating head tusks to know just how upset the blond crybaby had gotten, they were still a nice little warning to remind you of just how far you could push him. 

"Stop trying to escape!"

Had his voice amplified since your last "screaming contest"?

Did Muzen really think that Zenitsu's voice needed to get any louder, anymore irritating? 

"I wasn't" you deadpanned, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "How can I, did you forget what you did to my leg this morning?" the bones inside your left leg had been deformed, causing your entire leg to point sideways. It was a detestable sight, yet it seemed to fill your rotting heart with a sense akin to a school girl's crush. 

'Zenitsu-chan still loves me! See, see, he went out of his way to touch me!'

'No you idiot, he went out of his way to hurt you.'

Your mind had seemingly been slashed in half since your arrival at the former demon slayer's hideout. One tiny voice acted like a deranged lovesick little girl. Whist the other pertained some form of logic and common sense. This typically led to many interior arguments, all bordering on the exact same premise.

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

"Quit your whining!" the voice that escaped your lips, was flat and commanding, for a second it vaguely reminded you of Giyu Tomioka before the memory of your former lover shattered. Zenitsu's crying continued but his angry shouts slowly died down, his golden eyes shifted to stare directly at you. wearily you lifted your hands towards him, like an infant begging to be picked up. 

"I'm hungry Zenitsu! Take me into the kitchen, after all, it's your fault I'm like this!" 

Sure Zenitsu was much more powerful than you, sure he could snap your neck, ending your pitiful life at any moment. But his desperate need for approval -something else that had transcended from his human life to his current one- gave you the upper hand in this muddle of a relationship. 

As a demon Inosuke is more...feral, for lack of a better word. He is all so keen on seeing just how far he can push his darlings limits, both mentally or physically. 

He's always hovering around you, trailing his clawed fingers over patches of exposed skin. Smirking all so curly as you shiver and shrink back. His knife-like fangs seen to be permanently impaling your neck. Draining you of your life force. He's just so damn heartless!

 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️

Although he may be a ruthless monster, a creature of the night that fed on the innocent, there was no denying that Inosuke was resourceful, resourceful, and strong. He knew just where to hide you, so you would neither be found nor have a chance to escape. There was also the way he routinely cracked your fibula and tibia as a “preprecaution”. 

Your arm wasn't meant to bend that way, neither was your leg when you thought about it. Yet despite the odd angle there had yet to be any cracking or popping to indicate the limp had been, once again, broken. The only real evidence to suggest that the limps were in fact being abused was the white scorching pain coursing through them. A feeling that you had almost grown entirely familiar with.

Inosuke's green eyes shifted lazily between your scrunched up face and the twisting limps. One of his "normal" arms was occupied mangling your left arm, the other two appendages that sprouted from his back were pulling your leg upwards at the knee joint.  Inosuke's head leaned over his remaining arm, he looked bored, like your pain was so mundane that it couldn't even grant him a mere chuckle. 

"I like it better when you scream" his voice was laced with a demanding malice, something bitter and rotting. "It's boring when you try to act all strong and mighty". 

You weren't acting, acting required skills, and an audience who wanted to believe in the performer. No, your lack of response wasn't a show of strength or iron will, it was merely because your vocal cords had been shrieked raw, preventing them from making a single peep. 

Your tear-filled eyes shot up to stare into his depraved orbs. Had there ever been a time when his eyes didn't strike fear into those who peered into them? You highly doubted it, heck the idea of Inosuke ever being anything less than terrifying was a laughable thought. 

An eerie familiar noise filled the room, the cracking noise happened in three instances, like three swipes of a blade. First, it was your talus followed by your patella, and then to finish the spin chilling symphony was the crescendo of your breaking humerus for the hundredth time. 

Tears began to flow rapidly from your eyes, staining your thin layer of clothes. You could feel Inosuke's presence shifting about, leaning ever so closer to nuzzle into the side of your neck. His teeth grazing the already punctured skin. 

Inosuke use to be a demon slayer right? A passionate young man who wanted nothing more than to destroy the very same monsters that he himself became? What a laughable story, a fictional tale if ever you'd heard one!

This man was and would always be nothing more than a cruel demon!

[mypersonmyg]

blink | knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 1k

warnings: none

summary: you spend time with your boyfriend before you have to go away OR namjoon is a cheater

a/n: this has really just become a part of my daily routine, that’s wild

prompt 12.  L - Looks. The otp+ share glances.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

Into your mouth plops a plump grape, the smush of a waxy peel between the work of your jaw drawing satisfaction evident in your hum. You glance at the space surrounding, park nearly empty near midday, the filter of the sun over the expanse of healthy green appeasing to your keen eye. 

You pick at strands of grass, silently scolding in your habit, yet unable to pull away without blades between fingers. It’s with routine that your fingers force the sprinkle onto the pages resting in Namjoon’s lap, his immediate huff of air unbothered whilst he readily sends them scattering. 

“Hey,” You hush, the lift of your hand poking at a concentrated dimple. 

“I’m trying to read,” His glance in your direction caps at barely the count of a second, the steady scan of his eyes along heavily covered pages continuing once more. You sprawl along the expanse of your covered blanket, half eaten food haphazardly pushed aside, your gaze planted on the specked man before you. 

You stare at the upward push of fingers against the bridge of wide rimmed specs, the furrow of brows with the momentary consumption of the written and the bite of his lip when he rediscovers investment. His emotions are a myriad and you take in each concurrent moment like skin drinking the potent sun’s rays.

“Are you bored, babe?” You’re so lost in thoughts of silent beauty that you miss the attention once again graced by Namjoon. 

“I’m just enjoying the scenery. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone you know,” You muse, another grape popped past your lips. “But go ahead, finish your book.”

“And where are you going exactly?” 

“I’m going back to my own apartment, sir. I have to start preparing for finals and I’m sure Hoseok is sick of seeing me at yours.” 

Namjoon slides a slim marker into his text, setting it aside with eyes on you as he does. He shifts to his stomach, head propped against a perched arm. He doesn’t speak, just stares, pupils roaming your features mimicking your actions of just moments prior. You sit and stare, Namjoon’s eyes eventually coming to find your own. 

You seem to melt into him, the choice to be completely consumed in a man you’ve since been enamored with as nature hums around you. You barely take note of a passing herd of bicycles or the distance shriek of children on a playset aged and chipping. 

“You blinked.” Namjoon mutters, drawing your features into incredulity. 

“What?”

“You blinked, therefore I win and you’re not going anywhere.” He pushes back to criss-cross, scooping literature and leaving you with nothing more than a peck before he dives in once more. You stare at Namjoon, hands tracing the edges of the blanket’s fuzzed fabric as you grasp for words. 

“You can’t do that! I didn’t even know we were playing a game, that’s cheating!” 

“Too bad, guess you should be sure to ask next time.” 

“I-whatever, but I really do need to study so I guess you’ll have to settle for a different prize you cheater.” You begin packing lunch, the thickening crowd lessening the desire to remain in the sphere of the public. You tug at the portion of blanket resting beneath Namjoon, an act ignored as he reads on forcing the drop of the grass covered heep before him. “Can you quit being such a brat? I’m trying to pack up.” 

“I don’t want another prize, want you to come home with me so we can nap.” He tugs at your hands, pulling until the collapse of your weight into his lap. The nuzzle of his nose into the crook of your shoulder easily has you wrapping him in embrace. “I can help you study.” 

“Absolutely not,” You snort, Namjoon forcing himself away to meet your eyes with a brow quirked in question. “Isn’t proven that over half of college break-ups occur because of stupid arguments while studying?”

The statistic is pulled from air, this much understood by both parties. 

“If you’re sick of me you could just say so.” They’re said in teasing, but you don’t miss the droop of shoulders, Namjoon shifts to free the blanket from muscled thighs. 

“No, you know that’s not why. I wanna be with you all the time, but I just need to focus and it’s very hard to do that with you around.” You drop a peck, hoping your words are enough to satiate nerves. 

“Promise?” He regards you through thick lashes, the beat of the sun causing the glint of his pupils. You push your face to his, noses pressed obnoxiously. 

“I promise.” You don’t hesitate to kiss him once more, this one with the intent to persuade further, relinquishing lingering doubt. 

“Okay, I guess I better get you home.” Namjoon sighs when you pull away once more, hands finding the free blanket to settle into a neat fold. “I still want my prize though.” 

“Okay, and what will it be?” 

“Well...I was thinking that when exams are over you could come back to my place.” He says simply, helping with the stuff of the day's materials into your bag. You chuckle, standing to full height with hands to hips. 

“I think that’s a pretty reasonable request, I think I could even convince myself to stop by a few times during exams.” You joke, Namjoon’s eyes rolling as his hand finds your own and your feet find the nearest path. 

“Well I was also thinking that instead of calling it my place we could start calling it ours…?” You stop, Namjoon’s arm nearly pulling from socket at the abrupt motion. He turns back with a smile, nervous at your lack of proper reaction. 

“What about Hoseok?” 

“He’s going abroad next semester and when he gets back he’s gonna move in with Jimin since it’s closer to the studio.” He readily explains, your eyes wide and mouth agape as you stare. “Is that a good look? I promise you can kick me out whenever you need to study.” 

“It’s...It’s a good look.”

“Good. Now come on, I think I have to go ice my arm.” 

“Baby,” You mutter as you fall back into step.

“Hey, I can take back my offer.”

“But you won’t.”

“Yeah...I won’t.”

[manifoldpriest]

Enter My Quiet Soul

To surmise, the tides change and power wears a new face.

Diana Leigh looked at the dress. Its torn edges. Its ragged and threadbare bottom. Its utter lack of a hem. It was perfect. Years of being the Deity of Cloth in the Afterlife and she will exit the same way she entered. The same black dress. The same old clay sphere of room, smothered with drawings. Lakoris entered the room with a tray containing a glass of the one thing Diana swore she’d only have on this occasion: A wine glass filled with strawberry soda. Smelling like chemicals, Lakoris smiled sadly as Diane took it,

“So many of you oldies are leaving! I’m gonna miss all of your talks of The War!” Lakoris said lightheartedly as her deep teal eyes became misty. “And, yknow, I’ll miss you.” Diana laughed and placed an old hand on Lakoris’s shoulder, using her powers as a Seer of Cloth to see the future of the clothes she was wearing,

“You’ll be just fine, dear. Now, ready?” Diana asked with a smile, looking at the future Lakoris could look forward to; reuniting with an old flame, sailing the seven seas as she did before, living her best life. Lakoris smiled as Diana set the strawberry soda on a stool beside the dress, who donned it quickly and had Lakoris zip it up. The dress did as it was supposed to, and began to leech away Diana’s life. Quickly, she grabbed the strawberry soda and slammed it,

“Whoa! Wow! That’s so sweet!” She said in a shock as her skin began to visibly pale, making Lakoris grimace, “No no, it’s really good. I’m glad I got to try it.” She smiled with the warmth of the sun before collapsing, her soul on its way to being reincarnated as someone else somewhere else, maybe even somewhen else. Lakoris went over and checked the pulse, marvelling at the bizzarity of the action.

“Who would have thought I have to check someone’s pulse in the afterlife, what?” She laughed in disbelief, which gave way to a melancholy sigh. Diana was dead, and now Lakoris was the Deity of Cloth.

The coronation passed in a blur, with Iilea congratulating the awkwardly smiling and waving Lakoris, who wore the ceremonial robes of Cloth which weighed forty to forty-five pounds when dry, and so bore a slight hunch and pained expression on her face

Lakoris Korinthia was one of the Golden Key elite now, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

[fluffyeddybear]

The mobile mmo sphere has been SO lacking for numerous reasons recently. It’s plagued with low effort reuse of assets. Like there are so many of them that use the exact same art, models, and even systems all together as other mobile mmos. I was into Tales of Wind, a cool action mmo with a cute art style and even a feature where you could run a farm and a shop and craft things with your crops and animals and even get married (I like marriage systems because I have a bf and it’s usually cute). But then I got bored and went looking for another and came across a couple that were the EXACT same game under a different name. And I’ve seen way too many of them (always anime styled) advertise that you can find your soulmate while playing. I’m not gonna rag on online relationships, I’m in a long distance one myself, but I would never wanna meet and date someone from an anime mobile game. Consistently these players have been weird and awful. I’m talking slurs in the chat, sexualizing the youngest looking character they can find. That’s why I turn that shit off.

And aside from that, there’s horrid microtransactions that result in players who throw hundreds even thousands at these games, completely dominating the servers and fucking up the game in terms of player interaction such as pvp, guilds, and player markets. Also some of them riding on nostalgia and the popularity of old school mmos and advertising themselves as a “sequel” to them (then also being reused assets sksksk). And I don’t mind idle/auto play but I would rather it be an option and the game not be completely modeled around me never wanting to actually play the game. And even those games have bad microtransactions that unless you cave in, you’d be leaving the game on auto/idle for up to a week+ just to make progress depending on how deep you get into it.

That being said, I found this one game that looks like it had a loooot of effort put into it. It’s called Dragon Raja and while it does have those usual growth systems I don’t really like in mobile mmos, I’m not surprised and was willing to still give it a go. It looks like it was advertised as anime second life with fast paced combat and it kind of is. The combat is really good and the dungeons and boss fights have mechanics akin to Final Fantasy XIV, which is another game I really love. The story is pretty entertaining, though the voice acting needs work and does not match the subtitles at times. They say way more than what’s being shown or say something else entirely and that throws me off. The game looks gorgeous, but I hate how everyone looks like IMVU dolls. Nothing wrong with looking pretty (my character is gorgeous), but they’re all so pale and even if you max out the body meters, you’re still pretty skinny. Just a lil wide. And I only saw one other player who was actually brown, no brown NPCs. But while the game could use some fine tuning, it’s pretty damn fun with really unique classes like skateboarder, which is a tank class. I love tanking! And I can’t wait to buy and customize a house with my bf. Also I just think the game would be way better on PC. It looks like it was made for PC.

[dragonblobz]

Sparring Partner Pt2

Part 2 finally done. Still wish I were Tagoma 😂

WARNING: CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE

You weren’t given much time to prepare for your “training” if that was what anyone would ever deign to call it. In just a scant few hours, the ship had stopped at a backwater planet. The atmosphere was sustainable to life. Sustainable being the key word.

You felt the billows action of your lungs become faster and more shallow. The oxygen content here was lower than the life support systems on the ship or most of the atmospheres of the more habitable acquired planets.

And yet, the emperor inhaled deeply upon stepping off the ship, his eyes closed. He looked like someone appreciating the clean scent of the mountains upon your own home world.

“Ah yes. This should do rather well.” His lids revealed those crimson irises as he scanned the landscape and apparently found it to his liking.

“Solid ground.” His tail tip tapped the stony, barren soil. “Passable atmosphere for your own needs, as I have less needs than yours in that arena.” He gave you an awful side long smile. And you felt a quiver of fear. You couldn’t help but feel as if this atmosphere had been a contributing factor as to WHY he had chosen this planet. But surely you were wrong? Surely there was no other factor other than this planet’s proximity to the ship?

“Good stout gravity.” The tyrant looked dangerously pleased at this.

You focused on the sound of his feet hitting the ground as he distanced himself from you. Slowly and sedately. And the sound of your own breathing. You were definitely having to work a little harder to breathe.

You at least felt brave enough to look at him when he wasn’t facing you. The lighting of this planet was very low, almost eerie. The gem atop his head reflected mere glimpses of the cosmos now before appearing as black as darkness itself. You felt a little light headed. Whether from fear or lack of air, you weren’t sure.

Suddenly he stopped and turned slowly, one hand coming to rest on his hip as the other lifted his nails to tap against his chin.

“I suppose I shall warm up in this form. We wouldn’t want to end this little farce before it begins. You couldn’t possibly last long enough to be of any use to me in my final form.” He said this sedately. As if assessing your power as one would assess different specimens of the same low grade livestock.

Fear blossomed inside you. Yes. The other forms. Somehow this guy could get exponentially more powerful than he was now by changing his form.

He dropped the hand near his face and raised the other to cross them both at his chest. He huffed. Suddenly impatient.

“Enough lagging. I tire of watching you simmer in the comfort of thinking you know what true fear is. Attack me!”

You were afraid, yes. But you were not ill trained. Always the efficient soldier, you clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the simmering power of your own ki gather in your palms. It felt good. You no longer felt so helpless. You grunted and snapped your hands up to disperse the energy towards the emperor.

Even as the spheres left your hands, you could see that the space in which Frieza had been standing was now empty. He was gone.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised. Agony, white hot and throbbing, exploded in your shoulder as you felt something tearing thru it. A ki beam, the sleek violet energy of it diminished in the flaring blaze of your own missed blasts igniting a cliff face some distance away. You hadn’t even seen him move.

“That warmup was refreshing. Even if your aim is lacking and your speed abysmal.” His voice was bored behind you. You whirled around to see him standing behind you, arms crossed. Precisely as he’d been standing when he’d asked you to attack him. As if he’d simply appeared there. And he was very close. So close that he must have pointed upwards to hit your shoulder.

His eyes widened, as if he’d just thought of something pertinent.

“You’re too close.” You didn’t even see the blast before you were flying thru the air, clutching your burning chest in pain. You curled your arms to yourself and stretched your legs out straight as you watched the ground coming for you, turning your landing into a relatively harmless log roll.

“W……why…….” You were gasping from pain and the thin air.

“You ought to thank me, fool.” He raised his finger to the sky, as if accentuating a point. “The energy of my transformation would kill you at such a close proximity. Now…… pay attention. Not many have been graced with what you are about to witness. And fewer still have survived.”

It was beautiful. Every moment of it. You couldn’t deny that. The very ground trembled and broke apart as his body slowly rose. Energy flashed to life around him, becoming so bright that you couldn’t really SEE him anymore. Your skin pricked with goose flesh as if the air was becoming more electric. A metallic taste permeated your mouth. Your own blood, yes. But also heavier, thicker. The very air had a blood taste.

And as the light faded, what stood before you was NOT the same. You knew what his final form looked like. You’d seen images before. But even straight up face on portraits dulled in comparison to what you were looking at now.

You feel the first coils of true terror.

[warpoetrydivinity]

Which Daedric Prince do you think is the least awful?

Well, that certainly depends on the context. By their very nature, they are all awful in their own rights. Azura? Enslaves her followers. Traps them in a null sense of peace and tranquility. She disguises her shackles with love. Much like a heavily over-controlling parent. She masks her true intentions with the idea that “she knows best”. The moment you try to defy her though, just like those parents, she will strike you. Boethiah? Only cares for bloodshed and battle. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will manipulate both her followers and those who are against her in order to cause as much chaos as possible. Boethiah would, quite literally, kick a man while he is down to “test his mettle”. Clavicus Vile? Is nothing more than a nuisance, and that is on purpose. His eternal struggle is one of boredom. He views the world as a stage and he will pluck and prod the actors as much as he wishes. Not to mention his other half, his companion Barbas, who often causes even more trouble. Hermaeus Mora? Perhaps he could be viewed as one of the “least awful” simply because he doesn’t involve himself often. He spends his time hunting knowledge, striving for the unobtainable, but never quite comprehending it. He takes the time to hoard information, to hoard knowledge both forbidden and not, but does not take the time to fully comprehend it. Knowledge is power, but he’ll never obtain that power for his lack of true knowledge. Hircine? Could be another one viewed as the “least awful” for similar reasons. Hircine does not go out of his way to be worshiped, nor does he seem to truly wish to be. He finds his thrill in the hunt, however, only when it is fair. I would go as far to say that Hircine has some sense of honor. Jyggalag? Though not currently his own prince, he will return eventually. Or perhaps he already has, and is simply floating out in the infinite beyond? No one can truly say. I would say that Jyggalag has the potential to be one of the worst, in the sense that he’s extremely radical in his beliefs. Wisdom and Order, at any costs. He would deny the very nature of mortality by forcing all to follow a totally predetermined plan. Suck the very life out of all around him until everything was gray. Malacath? Is certainly not the brightest of his brothers, but I would give him this, he certainly cares about those who follow him. His very nature is that of being an almost fatherly figure to those who have been beaten down and broken. Though his focus on battle, his thirst for bloodshed, certainly disqualifies him from being one of the least awful. Mehrunes Dagon? He is a being of chaos, even more so than many of the other Princes. He brings about destruction, disaster, and death in his wake. Though, he also brings about change. It is his field in which revolution, both good and bad, come forth. He appreciates the ambitious, and could very well represent the turbulent energy below our feet. Mephala, my Anticipation? She is quite similar to Vile in the sense that her only goal is her own amusement. They will spend countless centuries spinning a web, trying to cause the most “interesting” outcome. Patience is a natural part of her own sphere, and she would wait an eternity if it meant seeing things play out as she wishes. Though they often do not. Though talented, yes, she views all mortals as puppets on strings. And once she is bored of you? She will toss you aside. Meridia? Well to put it simply, she is similar to Jyggalag in the sense that she is incredibly radical in her own beliefs. There is also a similarity to be drawn between her and Mora, that being an incredible sense of greed. She is insatiable her quest for “light”. Out of all of the princes, she is one of the ones which demand worship the most. She is practically starved for praise, and will burn anyone who says anything negative about herself. Then one can draw a comparison to Azura. She views mortals as ends to a means, as pawns which she can use. Meridia may lie, she may say that she cares for you, and that she is a light in the darkness. But a light that burns bright enough to blind you will only cause you to see eternal darkness. Is Molag Bal even worth speaking about in this context? He carries all of the negative traits of his brothers and sisters. Cunning in his schemes, patient to wait for them to come to fruition, greedy in his quest for power and dominance, cruel in his thirst for bloodshed, and completely uncaring for his followers. Though perhaps his worst trait is his own pride, which is always his own downfall. Whether it is at my own hands, or that of the many mortals that have and will defeat him for eras to come. Namira is gross. That is her very nature. She does not WANT to be viewed as anything other than awful. She revels in her own repulsion, and the deeds which would cause people to pluck out their own eyeballs in order to not see them again. She is quite like Azura and Meridia in the sense that she only cares for the worship of her mortals. She sees her worshipers more as toys than anything else. Namira simply wants to see how far she can bend a person until they break. How long they can hold onto themselves before they simply become a part of her. Nocturnal? Well, to put it simply, she is a bitch. Just as prideful as Molag Bal, while also viewing herself as superior to the others as Meridia. She believes herself to be “unfathomable” and gives herself her own titles as she sees fit. She pushes those that follow her to be as selfish as she is. To seek their own power and ambitions, at any cost. While also chastising them when they defy her, despite her own teachings of treachery. Nocturnal’s very nature of being “shadowy” and “deceiving” is often what causes her to be so predictable in the first place. Peryite, one of the most forgotten princes, revels in the suffering of others. He views illnesses, blights, diseases as being gifts which he blesses the mortal plane with. All he cares for is systematic destruction, a controlled pandemic, something which he can sit back and watch the numbers rise for. He is methodical, and will often try to stay a step ahead of those he is against. Many underestimate this dragon, but I believe that is simply part of his own plans. Sanguine, I’ve found, is often viewed as one of the “better” Daedra by those of you on the web. And indeed, there are mortals in our realm as well who simply view him as a “party god”. That is by his own design. He represents that feeling of excitement as you first take a sip of alcohol. One? It can not hurt. Two? What could go wrong? Three? Four? Then it goes on, and on, until it spirals out of control. THAT is what Sanguine is. The destruction of one’s self, by your own hands. He pushes mortals down an ever darkening path, until they can no longer recognize themselves. That is the nature of the prince of debauchery. We’re nearing the end now, are we not? Sheogorath..Is a Prince in which I’ve had many dealings with over the years. The Mad God, the Patron of Art, the Gentleman with a Cane, the Tester of the Mind. He is many things, and yet, he is all simply Sheogorath. Of all the princes, he is the only one which is truly unpredictable. In some ways, he is similar to Sanguine, in that he’d rather allow someone to destroy themselves than to do it himself. Just like the others, his main goal is often to sate his own eternal boredom. The difference is just that he is far more creative in his means to do so. One day? He might save a little kitten so he might watch it grow. The next day? He might rip out its entrails to jump rope with. Sheogorath simply DOES. Planning is something he leaves to others, though sometimes, for the sake of being unpredictable, he might plan himself. That is ultimately how I view Sheogorath. Not good, or evil. Not nice, or awful. He is simply unpredictable, the truest being of chaos there is. Of all of the Princes, Sheogorath might just be the one with the most potential. Lastly, we reach Vaermina. She simply hungers for destruction, and will often give people flashes of future disasters, only for them to cause those disasters sooner. She views mortals as being in which she can torture eternally, whether they are awake or sleeping, she claims them either way. She will take your worst fears, and make you face them over and over until you are no longer afraid of them. Then? She will simply find something new for you to fear. Until the only thing you fear is yourself, and you take your own life. Only for you to wake again. Vaermina is a Prince of eternal torture. Nothing more, nothing less. There is no “least” awful Daedric Prince. They’re all awful in their own ways. Hermaeus Mora and Hircine might be the least destructive of them, but even then that is a stretch. The Daedric Princes are by their own nature, destructive. Wherever they might go they bring about some kind of change. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative. Regardless of who they might be. Comparing their individual actions is fruitless, as they are constantly at work in the background. Likely with an infinite number of unattributed events being caused by themselves. That is my final stance on the matter.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I have a silly Napoleon ask for you: if he suddenly woke up in the present day what do you think he would a)like most about it b) like least about it c)get unreasonably addicted to d)decide to do for a living

hahah I’ve answered a similar one before here and here. 

Most Like About It: A lot, I think. Central heating. Guys, he’d fucking love central heating.

In general, he’d love most technological advances. Cars, planes, trains etc. like he’d be very into that. “Bertrand we’re going to ride the TGV all day every day. Look at how fast we are going! This is genius.” 

“Bertrand WE ARE IN THE SKY. This is AMAZING. We are going from Paris to Rome in a matter of HOURS. HOURS BERTRAND. WE DON’T HAVE TO CROSS MOUNTAINS.” (sorry just assuming this is exile Napoleon who woke up in modern day.) 

Public transit in general - the metro, buses - anything that makes life more efficient for people. Dishwasher, washers/dryers, modern electricity, laptops, printers, ball point pens etc. 

I suspect he’d be a big supporter of public health care and all the advances made on vaccines and medicine in general. 100% would hate anti-vaxxers. Pro-modern glasses (he’d get himself a pair asap. Then they’d explain contacts to him and I think he’d be like “WAIT NO, I WANT THOSE.” He would not be into lasik, I suspect). 

Modern hygiene! Razors, tooth brushes, floss, moisturizer - general daily body care he’d probably be keen on. (All that stuff we take for granted.) Though maybe not all of it, he was quite traditional in certain things (his penchant for older fashion, par exemple). Maybe he’d keep the old straight razor shaving approach. But modern dentistry would be a huge improvement and I can’t see him being against it. Especially as someone who had a tooth extracted in the early 19th century. 

‘Oh they give you pain killers now? Fantastic.’ 

‘Sir, we just numb the area where we are doing the work.’ 

‘So it doesn’t impede my awareness? Amazing. Please, fix all my teeth right now.’ 

He’d also support the greater access to education that exists, especially compared to his day. Also, streaming services. He would binge so many things. ‘Bertrand we are watching every thing this very soothing sounding British naturalist made about planet earth. Holy shit look at that they’re under water! They’re at the bottom of the ocean! Bertrand look at this. if only Josephine were here. She’d be so excited.’ 

Pro-zoom/Microsoft teams/facetime etc. 100%. ‘If I had this instead of people relying on my bad handwriting ...’ 

Oh, he’d like the EU as a concept. Except he would be very disappointed that France wasn’t at the helm. I think France’s position globally would disappoint him, overall. But yeah, the broad principles espoused by the concept of the European Union would appeal to him. 

Brexit though. Lol. I think he’d enjoy watching England shoot itself in the foot. But if you asked him for his opinion, as in “do you think the UK should do this” he would answer no. They should remain. 

He would like globalization, trade agreements, things like NAFTA, CETA etc. Supporter of big government. Reduction of religion in public sphere. Though would he be pro-banning visual manifestations of faith? (i.e. Hijab etc.) I don’t know. I doubt it. Simply because he was very focused on religion in government, so if churches aren’t involved in decision making, what citizens get up to on their own is their business (so long as you don’t cause problems). But I don’t know, he might be pro-it, because he was also into assimilation and creating a broad sense of a French culture. I could see him really going either way on it. It’d probably come down to whatever he thought would garner the most public support as a political move (since a lot of his more liberal moves as a leader were tied to understanding that marginalized communities would gun hard for him if he helped them). 

He would be pro-mask wearing for COVID because he wasn’t a fucking idiot and lived in a time when pandemics were still a real going concern. 

He would also probably like how comfortable modern clothing is. I don’t think he’d like how cheap and made-to-wear-out that most brands are, but he’d like the over all philosophy. Like Napoleon would dig t-shirts. Lounge wear. The fact that jeans have some stretch in them. That sort of thing. 

-- 

Least Like: I think he’d be very wary of the internet. For many reasons. For the lack of government control (Napoleon “What is a free press? never heard of her” Bonaparte). But also, because of the misinformation problems. The side effects many of us are now bearing witness to, and experiencing the ramifications of. 

He would dislike the whole fake news nonsense. Oh this man was a master spin-doctor, very good at twisting a narrative around to suit him, but he still did have respect for and a firm belief in basic facts. Especially fake news that usurped the sound advise of scientists and doctors (i.e. COVID nonsense). 

Free press, I think he would be wary of it. Mostly from a government control perspective. Like as a day-to-day citizen, since he wouldn’t be anyone in power in this hypothetical, I think he’d value it. He would do that disassocative thing he did when he talked about things in the abstract. That cold, calculating way he would position himself in a situation and be like “Ah yes, these are the things that need to be tamped down if you want control of a populace as a monarch”. Then he had his more liberal, call-back-to-that-misspent-jacobin-youth moments where his views shifted. 

I suppose it would also depend what age this hypothetical Napoleon is. He softened a lot in retirement exile. Napoleon at the height of his power, thirty-odd years old, different man to fifty year old Napoleon. 

Would not be into women in politics. He’d be like ‘Why is there a woman in charge of Germany? Also what happened to the Habsburgs? Where’s Prussia? Silesia? What the FuCk is happening in the Balkans? I’m very confused about Europe’s current geographic layout. ...Corsica...still doing you, I see.’ 

He’d dislike Trump and his cronies. As I wrote before: “ I think Napoleon would find Trump disgusting on a personal level. Uneducated, incapable of holding a real conversation, gauche, anti-intellectual, anti-fact-based discussion, anti-science, anti-art etc. He’d also feel that Trump is disgracing the position of President and that he is unworthy of leadership. Napoleon would also find Trump physically repulsive as he could be a wee bit shallow in some of his assessments (though, very early modern to 19th century to assume your physical appearance is a manifestation of your interiority).” 

Steve Bannon’s fiddling with finances? Napoleon would find that repulsive. Mitch Mcconnell disgracing his office by fucking around with constitutional loop holes? Napoleon would think it a disgrace. 

He had a lot of respect for America’s experiment with democracy. Like, quite a lot of respect. So I think he’d be vastly disappointed in not only the person occupying the white house, but also a lot of the apathy in voting that is going around. (Yes, this coming from a [mostly] absolutest monarch, too.) But Napoleon valued and respected the notion of civic duty. If you live in a democracy, you have a duty to participate. To opt out is to shirk that duty which he would find insulting and distasteful. Because, I would argue, he was very much a believer in people doing right by their fellow citizens. 

--

Get unreasonably addicted to: MODERN BATHS. HE WOULD NEVER LEAVE THE BATHTUB. THEY CAN HAVE JETS AND EVERYTHING BERTRAND THIS IS GREAT. 

Also central heating. Saunas. Jacuzzis. He was like a wee lizard seeking warmth at all times. 

I think he’d be into driving. I don’t know if he would be good at it. Don’t let Napoleon take the wheel, guys. But if someone else was driving he’d be that person “go faster. you’re driving like my grandmother.” And gods, he’d do dumb shit like drive like a maniac around the arc de triumph six times in a row because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a risk-taker (it’s that bored ADD brain of his). The autobahn would be his dream. 

I think he’d be super into epic fantasy series. Like the big sweeping ones like Lord of the Rings. I think less so GRRM because GRRM is unrealistic and Napoleon is pedantic. Especially about politics and war. Exhibit A: consider Napoleon’s very detailed nitpicking of Virgil on his inaccurate rendition of Troy from a military perspective. Therefore, I suspect GRRM’s lack of accuracy in how society works, how war works, how politics works, all the plot holes and illogical character decisions, would drive him up the wall. Napoleon liked Homer because he could tell Homer had been to war. And you can tell Tolkien has been to war. Also LOTR hits all those notes of high-hearted emotion and big sweeping scenes that Napoleon so liked in Ossian and the Illiad etc.

All this to say, overall, as a genre, I think those big, sweeping fantasies with lots of plot, politics, intrigue, soaring battles, great heights of emotion - he’d love that. It would hit all of his buttons for what he liked in fiction. Lots of emotion, lots of action, lots of big scenes, lots of crazy shenanigans. This can also be applied to Sci-fi. I think he’d be a big nerd on that too. But the science would have to make sense. 

I think he’d be into Star Trek, particularly Picard, if only for the philosophical aspects of it. He liked those sorts of questions and hypotheticals. So I think he’d binge all of The Next Generation (among other seasons). 

--

Do for a living: Teach? God knows. This is Napoleon from 18-something who just woke up? He could be paid for consultant work for historians and film crews and the like, I guess. Just to tell them how accurate stuff is. Of course, be wary, this is Napoleon I Am A Spin Doctor Bonaparte. 

I think he could lean into writing histories - particularly the classics, early French and European history - that sort of thing, where he already has a strong background in it and it wouldn’t require him basically learning an entirely new trade. Like, will Napoleon ever fully be a natural with computers and cell phones? Probably not. Could he be like your old school Professor emeritus who still churns out papers and does 90% of it the old fashioned by-hand way? Yes. And Napoleon had a bunch of histories planned on St. Helena that he wanted to write, so I think he could do that. 

As this is literally Napoleon Bonaparte he’d get a book deal in seconds. There’d be a bidding war over it. 

--

Thank you for the ask! This was very amusing :D 

[languagelearningjoy]

10 REASONS THAT SLOW YOU DOWN IN LEARNING ENGLISH

The first reason I would like to mention is MOTIVATION. We are used to thinking about our motivation to learn a certain language as about something stable and simple. Nothing could be further from the truth. We may be highly motivated today and be completely unmotivated a month later. Our motivation is tightly bound to our other needs, wishes, hopes, attitudes, to a broader social life and opportunities it offers us. Besides, motivation also depends on actions we undertake and on the outcomes of our actions. When these factors change, our motivation changes as well. When you come home after a hard working day, all you want is to relax, to do something you like, you are just not able to do grammar exercises or write an essay, your brain refuses to think and you watch your favourite TV series or check your Facebook page, in your native language of course. There are many ways to be successful in language learning without compromising your needs. I am going to make a special video to help you understand and support your motivation better at different stages of your language learning. Just one more thing I would like to say about motivation: it has often been undermined by the

DISCREPANCY BETWEEN YOUR GOALS AND YOUR ACTIONS

            What do you usually do when learning a foreign language? You study grammar, memorise vocabulary, write essays, but it is not your goal! Your goal is to be able to use the language to communicate with other people! It must seriously confuse your brain when you put a big effort into something which is not your goal. Does it mean that you can start communicating in a foreign language without learning its grammar and vocabulary? I don’t think so. What can you do to reduce this discrepancy? You can change your way of thinking. Don’t think “I should learn the past tense” if you are not interested in grammar. You can think: “I want to learn how to talk about interesting things I did last week, last year or five years ago”.

Very often the discrepancy between goals and actions is caused by the fact that the course program does not correspond with your goal, or topics and tasks are not interesting for you or the teaching methods are not efficient. Sometimes people try to learn a foreign language by themselves choosing very tiring, boring, time-consuming and inefficient techniques like memorising words one by one from a dictionary or reading English classics when they are on a pre-intermediate level. Some ideas are not as bad, but often they can’t guide them through all the steps that are necessary to be a highly proficient language user, because 

INPUT is NOT ENOUGH  

Frankly speaking, some theorists think it is enough but I strongly believe it is not and many studies have proved that language learning is a complex process, it has many stages of processing, coding, and restructuring information, not to mention that output is a crucial stage of language learning. I am going to do a special video with a more detailed description of the second language processing and acquisition and show how it is slowed down when some stages are omitted and some important factors are neglected. Now I just want to mention the main reason for the fact why learning a lot you may not necessarily bring a great result.

YOUR KNOWLEDGE IS NOT THE SAME AS YOUR SKILLS (describing it in scholar terms, your declarative knowledge does not transform automatically into your procedural knowledge). If you do not have extraordinary language skills you might have noticed that despite doing many grammar exercises you still make the same mistakes again and again; after listening to the pronunciation workshop on youtube, your pronunciation in spontaneous speech is still far from perfection. To transform your knowledge into skills you need to practice it in communication, still better in a real-life situation. So, the next reason why language learning  often fails    

LACK OF COMMUNICATION

Plenty of experiments and papers showed how communication enhances language learning. Social interaction is called a “gate” to language acquisition and it is not an exaggeration. We are social creatures, it is coded in our biology: brain research showed that interaction arouses out attention and activates the brain mechanisms linking perception and action. That is exactly what we need to transform our declarative knowledge into our speaking skills. So, what should you do if you don’t know people with whom you can practice the language you learn? Some youtube videos suggest talking to a mirror, recording yourself, using virtual assistants like Siri, or speech recognition programs. Surely, you can do it and it helps but I strongly believe that real people are much better than the mirror or Siri. Again, I am going to make a special video with some tips as to how to build your own network but you can easily do it now by yourself: there are social networks, there are a lot of virtual communities on the Internet, possibly some of them have real-life meetings in your city, there are tandem group meetings (real and virtual), discussion clubs and many other options. Apart from many other benefits, talking to people gives you feedback and here we are at the 6th reason why language learning might be not satisfactory

LACK OF FEEDBACK AND REWARD

When we put in a great deal of effort into our actions, we want to see the result we have achieved. In the case of language learning this result is ability to communicate with other speakers. But what result do we usually get? The score of our last test. Is it exciting? Not really. You may get a reward a year, two or three years later when you pass your IELTS test or get a good job but it is a very long time to wait, people want results and rewards more quickly. Talking to foreigners gives you this feeling of success and satisfaction. You can also arrange small rewards for yourself, e.g. you can write in your language journal to record your progress, success and your feelings. Do we take our feelings into account when we learn a foreign language? Usually not and it is a serious mistake, and that’s the reason number 7 why your language learning is not efficient:

YOUR FEELINGS ARE NOT ENGAGED 

Your feelings are important, they are related to all the key factors of language learning. If your learning is pleasurable, you are highly motivated to continue it. You memorize much better something that moves you, makes you smile, makes you feel delighted. Many invisible barriers on the way to language proficiency are created by boredom or negative feelings.   

Many learners and even teachers make a big mistake when they think about language learning as  something ordered, something like a formula: do this and this and you get a result. If it does work for you, it is perfect, stick to this way of thinking, but for many people, it doesn’t work. If it doesn’t work for you, stop seeing a language as a set of grammar rules and long vocabulary lists. Language is about words and tenses and endings but first of all language is about you and the world around you, language is about everything. The good news is that you can learn when doing anything, including things you are passionate about: you may learn something very important for you, talk to very interesting people, you can express yourself through a new language. You might think that it will be possible only when you become a proficient language user, but in fact, you can do it right now. The first idea that comes to my mind, you can make a photo album with notes in the language you learn. Share it with your friends. Even if they can’t read your notes, they will be happy to see the photos. Many people don’t perceive language learning in terms of creativity and self-expression and that is the reason number 8 why they struggle:

they CANNOT ENGAGE their PERSONALITY IN LANGUAGE LEARNING

In fact, it is easier to say than do. A foreign language is something unfamiliar to us, it pushes us out of our comfort zone. Our brain doesn’t like unfamiliar things. A commonly held psychological belief says that it happens because for all biological creatures familiar things mean safety, unfamiliar things are associated with some potential danger. Even if you like the language you learn, try to shift settings on your computer into this language or join a group native speakers when you are the only foreigner and it is highly unlikely you will feel comfortable. It is more difficult to express yourself through a foreign language. For a long time after my English became fluent I felt I sounded ridiculous speaking English, especially in public, I was ashamed of my accent and afraid to make mistakes.

So if it is difficult to make a foreign language yours what can we do? We can appropriate a new language gradually switching it to our sphere of interests and to our identity. If you like cooking, start searching for new recipes in this language, if you like sports, start watching sports events in this language, if you like traveling, start sharing your experience in a blog. Don’t overwhelm yourself, do one step at a time and you will realise that gradually you start feeling more and more comfortable and the most important thing: you will use your new language in a real-life situation and that is exactly the 9th reason why people do not succeed in their language learning: they 

DO NOT USE THE LANGUAGE IN REAL LIFE SITUATIONS

Psychology says that the knowledge acquired in a certain situation, in certain circumstances is not always to automatically transferred into other situations and circumstances. That is exactly what many people experience when after years of learning a foreign language in classroom setting, they meet a native speaker and can’t say a word. I would say that language usage limited to a classroom is possibly the main reason why people feel frustrated about their language learning. So, what can you do? Try to expand you language learning out of the classroom. As I said, language is about you and the world around you. Take this responsibility on yourself and you will avoid the 10th reason why language learning is not efficient 

People DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR their LANGUAGE LEARNING.

Do not put all responsibility on your teacher. Language learning for a long time has been organised in the way that learners were just passive doers of the tasks they were given by their teachers. I think this approach will be changing in the future but what could you do now? Just plan your learning strategically, engage your emotions and creativity, organise a group of speakers with whom you can practice this language.

So, thank you for your attention, and good luck in your language learning. If you need any help with English, Russian, Polish, you can book a lesson with me via email: olga.nestel@gmail.com ($ USA 20/hour or 15 euro/hour).      

[lovingyoubetter]

What No-One Will Tell You about your Health

In today's fast-paced life, it's so easy to go about your business like all is well. You assume that just because you got out of bed, paced around the house a few times while getting ready and faced the world YOU ARE A-OKAY. Riggghhht? As long as there are no aches and pains you must be as healthy. You just have to be. What a ******** way of living! (I am not sorry). Do you need to fall ill before you schedule a health check? When last did you visit the dentist? How's your multi-vitamin cabinet looking? Veggies, do you atleast eat your vegetables? What about water?! Uhhh, don't even get me started about the water intake!

You are honestly too old to be living like it's still someone's job to look out for you. At just 25 years of age, you huff and puff (no blowing houses down!) like you're dying after walking up a flight of stairs. Do you feel attacked yet? GOOD! Let's digress for a little bit. Take a look at your smartphone. Your entire life in a shiny box with lights and sounds. It's geared up with a fancy cover and a screen protector to go with it yet you don't practice the same courtesy when it comes to yourself. For instance, you don't even use sunscreen. The good news is that you are still alive and it's never too late to make a change.

Let's dive into some Truths NOBODY  mentions about taking charge of your health(physically):

Everything takes practice

It takes consistent practice and dedication to get a new habit to stick. It won't magically become second nature to you in the blink of an eye. You have to make a deliberate decision to change your life for the better and stick with it. I read in The 5AM Club that it takes 21 days to create a habit, then practicing it for 90 days basically makes it part of your lifestyle. This is called the 21/90 rule or system. It works with exercising, clean eating, gratitude journaling and so much more.

It is hard work

If you thought it would happen overnight, it won't. There is no way it can happen overnight. I'm truly (NOT) sorry to burst your bubble. It will be hard. Extremely hard. And then once you think you have it all figured out, it will get even harder. It will take a lot of dedication on your part to make healthy living your second nature if you were anywhere near the opposite end of the spectrum.

Take-outs will always have "that thing"

I know that YOU know exactly what "that thing" is. I know of one or two people who say food from outside keeps calling their name. Pizza, Double Cheese Burger, Fries, Honey-glazed ribs, nuggets with an extra carton of jalapeno dip on the side...Are you drooling yet? STOP IT! Take-outs will always seem more attractive and more juicy than home-cooked food. It's really up to you my darling, to fight that urge and build a resistance. Or even better, invest your time and energy into making delicious, mouth-watering yet HEALTHY meals. A cheat day here and there might be a better alternative for you if you really must indulge.

(See? Home-prepped meals DO NOT have to be boring!)

10 Years from now, you'll thank yourself

Imagine this:

You are in your mid-to-late thirties. Infact, let's make it your forties for emphasis. You're taking a leisurely stroll one afternoon with your significant other and kids, looking healthy, happy and content. You've had your morning boxing session but you're STILL as fresh as a daisy. You both look 25 or something like that, no back aches or muscle pulls whatsoever! You're lively and youthful. Wouldn't that be lovely? Now back to reality -- Do you see that happening for you or you are still 'NOT a morning person' ? Stop robbing yourself of a chance to live your best life! Unless ofcourse one of your bucket-list items reads "Waddle like a sick duck by 35".

Healthy habits can save your life

A majority of the time, people end up in hospital beds as a result of preventable illnesses and diseases. Stuff they actually could have avoided.  This of-course excludes COVID-19 and its buddies. That's a whole different ball game. I'm referring to sugar diabetes, cholesterol, obesity...you get the gist of it. Things you could have prevented if you had just went for a walk. One or two hikes maybe? Maybe even a run - - who knows, perhaps you might have liked it. Or, something less drastic like putting down that can of something sweet you normally have after a hearty meal. I see you Sis, out here "rewarding" yourself. I see you!

All other spheres of your life will begin to improve

Speaking from my personal experience, keeping fit and healthy makes me happy and light. I have more energy, more concentration, more focus and I am of-course an all-round happy-chappy. That in-turn makes me a better student, a productive individual, an active mom and a happy-go-lucky partner to my significant other. It's a WIN-WIN situation! I mostly notice the difference if I haven't exercised in a while due to various reasons (exams, childbirth, travelling, etc.) I feel sluggish, heavy and moody, which feeds in to my next point.

Your mood will improve drastically

Science proves that exercise releases some of those cool kids that in turn tell your brain that you are happy. They are called Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, and Endorphins.

Class is in session:

* Dopamine - motivates you to take action toward your goals and gives you a surge of pleasure once they are achieved. Procrastination, self-doubt, and a lack of enthusiasm are found to exist where there are low levels of dopamine.

* Serotonin - it flows when you feel significant or important. When serotonin is absent, loneliness and depression creep in.

* Oxytocin -  is released to create intimacy, trust, and to strengthen relationships.

* Endorphins - are released in when you are experiencing pain and stress, and helps to alleviate anxiety.

Class dismissed.  

The more you sweat and the healthier lifestyle choices you make, the happier you become. Easy maths. By taking charge of your health and wellness, you kind of equip yourself with the necessary tools to take on life. It's almost like magic!

You will look amazing (with and without clothes,wink-wink!)

This is a no-brainer. Honestly. Need I say more? I mean who doesn't want to look like a snack on (or off) the platter? PUN ABSOLUTELY INTENDED!

As an added bonus, your skin will begin to reward you as well. It will look healthier, more supple and give off a youthful glow.

Your health is one of those things you absolutely cannot afford to cut corners with. You only get one body to see you through your entire lifetime, do your utmost best to take care of it. While the extent to which you want to revamp your habits is entirely up to you, it would make me delighted to still get to spend virtual time with a healthier, happier you in the future. Love Your Beautiful Body. Tr(EAT) it RIght.

What are some of your go-to health and wellness tips & tricks?

[sugar-splenda]

Green origins (Theory for Ssts)

Okay So analyzing the behavior of the greens and my own interpretation of how the universe works, there's likely two scenarios the green civilization (cuz they are, sadly a civilization.) developed and shaped their stupid ass beliefs.

We'll completely ignore the yellow bio-hazardous alien from Bad Astronaut because they weren't well written and I don't care about them outside confirming the greens were indeed decimated and are desperate to survive. 

The greens were first, obviously. Otherwise we'll never have discovered their tech and would probably 1) exterminate them without mercy since they had the possibility of becoming a threat for us. (likely)  2)Be groomed into some form of slave civilization or a weapon Idk I’m against imperialism (depending on development level). Maybe a little 3) trying to understand each other.  Anyway the point is this ain’t their first road in space, they have electromagnetic pulses and time-space breaking machines.

I believe the greens have multiple hives, just like ants or bees have, and the most developed one started assimilating the other competitors of their species, as evidentiated by that line of Regina kidnapping Wynn. I’m 85% sure she got back into the hive there, probably by force, in that ending. Another scenario is obliterating the competition, because in ant hives, super colonies sometimes end up splitting into two or more colonies that turn on the original one. And Queen bees absolutely hate insubordination, and would kill their royal kids if they don’t get out of the hive fast enough. 

The greens have this… obsession, with putting things that don’t belong together in the same vessel. I feel like where they came from, they used other species as biomass to build vessels. Since they probably hijacked the evolution process of the other species, they accidentally stole the self awareness from the non green species in the planet, and since they work like the fungal international internet network, everyone became self aware at the same gradual (or suddenly fast) pace. 

This was huge because they realized other species had specialized features for tasks they couldn’t complete due to lack of limbs. So they could take over a creature that had the limbs or abilities they needed for I don’t know, survival? Hive building? Hive stuff. Over time they learned how to construct their own vessels by taking the limbs they needed from the creatures around them instead of taking over a new creature each time they wanted to do a new task. 

You could argue that the greens could just assign different types of workers for the job they want to do, but that defeats the purpose of them being uniformly green blobs. Also, I believe it would be more efficient to have all the tools you need with each worker so, let say, you don’t have to wait for the soldiers to arrive to defend a section of the nest-base. There would still be a lot of room for customization since they can detach the limbs by ripping them off the vessel and putting another one that would be better for the job. 

I think of this concept as how humans learned to use the resources of their environment as they continued to evolve. The greens just didn’t have hands and were already parasitic, so it would make sense to use biomass instead of developing limbs capable of manipulating inorganic objects. Remember nature is very lazy and likes to do efficiency so it doesn’t waste energy, so it will take the easiest route to solving problems.

After this the next step for civilization as we know it is to gain energy sources outside the biological adaptations, aka fire and tools. I don’t want to bore myself with the greens discovering how to build societies, so I’ll rush over this part because it’s not really important but all queens should have this present since they’re the ones that store the collective memory of the hive and go around calling the shots so. Greens develop societies divided between the royals and the worker greens.

The royals are the queens. They call the shots, they organize the rest of the colony and act as an information source for the hive. At this point of their species development, there’s usually one queen per hive, but there’s some extraordinary big hives that have five or more queens working together. The workers are the muscle of the hive, mindless drones with a lot of affection/affinity to their queen and basically extensions of her will. They don’t share the same consciousness, though, they’re individuals connected by the internet network and directed by the queen.

They have probably made the species they need for biomass/consumption their cattle and have a dedicated room/space in the hive for them where they’re raised from birth and taken away when they reach adulthood for harvesting. They don’t mind, they’re living their best lives. Inside the hive they’re safe, have proper nutrition and enrichment for improved development AND get to reproduce. Truly the best experience until the greens take you away for parts….. Just like we do with cows! Wow, we really are food for the greens, aren’t we. Anyway. 

Now that they have specialized their vessels for the manipulation of tools, they can actually harvest the inorganic resources without wasting unnecessary energy on, you know, using their tendrils to take a shiny rock back to their nest. But yeah, they probably took a bit longer than humans to reach the copper/iron era of tools. I honestly don’t think they would develop weapons at first, as they can just hypnotize/ assimilate the threat with few exceptions (because this is their native planet, SOMEONE had to prey on them). And even then, the vessels are specialized to deal with threats they couldn’t face when they’re alone.

So no, they probably didn’t make swords. Not even to kill each other, again thanks to the vessel's versatility. Upsetting, I know.

Anyway, they probably fought with other hives for resources, just like we humans stupidly do, until someone realized they could just make a mega colony and take over the planet. So that’s exactly what they did, probably through force, but I like to think they just stopped fighting and joined forces. Again, because it’s the easiest thing to do and conserves the energy of subduing the other hive. And because I like to think the greens are not violent by nature, but depending on the circumstances. 

As I was saying, the greens would have formed a mega hive that became the dominant species in their planet, shaping it at their will and terraforming the place. I don’t want to say they made the same mistake as us humans are doing of destroying our biosphere and draining all possible resources. So they probably ran out of space to expand and began branching to their satellites and neighbor planets.

Now, THIS is the stage where everything starts going wrong because of one thing: Queens share the same consciousness… until they don’t. Queens are born whenever the hive is ready to expand, and at first they are individuals from the Royal mind hive, but when their development is complete they are assimilated into the Royal network and they lose their original consciousness is assimilated into the main one, effectively destroying the individual as they were before and making the blob just another extension of the Royal megamind.

The problem is when the queens don’t assimilate correctly and still retain their consciousness aside from the megamind. I believe while every social being wants to be integrated into a society for some reason, the separation of super ant colonies happens in nature for a reason, and since i’m using the ants as my primal model of the hierarchy of the greens, this is what will cause the eventual collapse of the green civilization. 

The rouge queens join forces and fragment the megamind, weakening it and causing chaos. The reason why they separated is still not understood, but I suspect it had to do with the use of singular queens as colonizers while the megamind constructed the Tipler Cylinder. The colonizer queens encountering different lifeforms that weren’t native to their planet might have caused the rupture of the weak link to the megamind. 

 I don’t think they wanted to use the Tipler Cylinder as a time machine. I’m dead set that time travel is not a thing in this universe, so they wanted it for intergalactic travel. (And yes, they probably had a Dyson sphere powering the Tipler Cylinder, this would have catastrophic consequences later.)

So, while an internal revolution was happening in the Royal hive, the construction of the Tipler Cylinder was complete. They made initial tests and concluded the machine was too unestable to allow a complete activation at the moment. And honestly, they were glad because they had to contain the rebellious queens that wanted to gain control over the whole species. But them being individuals meant that they were vulnerable to the big hivemind and honestly they were being obliterated. 

So one of the rebellious hive, not knowing the Tipler Cylinder was not safe for activation, realized their best course of action would be to escape to another galaxy and start over there. This was Busy’s Hive. She was the colonizer that was the nearest to the Tipler Cylinder and in charge of preparing the ship for the escape, while the others would get into the research facility of the project. The plan was to use the queens to activate the machine, while Busy positioned the ship so they could quickly escape once the portal was opened. One of the queen vessels would stay behind and close the portal so the megamind couldn’t follow. 

Nothing went according to plan, they were discovered and Busy had no time to finish the preparations fully and had to get in position with a very short notice. Then the Tipler Cylinder malfunctioned and the Dyson Sphere star exploded when the ship was half way through.  They made it through, with the ship barely standing. The side of the cylinder they exited through imploded into itself, making the rotating black hole Taylor ends up sucked inside, and the trajectory made them crash into the moon, since the black hole seems very close to Tau Ceti. 

So now, definitively alone (only remaining queen from the rebellious hive that she knows of + different universes make communication break if you make the queen go through enough stress.) in an unknown environment with half the equipment functioning, Regina sets the events of Lifeline by almost destroying her fucking entire civilization. But don’t tell that to the drones, they don’t need to know their queen fucked up big time. 

Now, I’m going to pull something from my ass and say Regina is actually two royals instead of one during the lifeline series. Well, not really from my ass, there’s evidence supporting this claim. First of all, the Tunguska event is definitively Regina arriving on the planet, no doubt, how else did she get there before Taylor brought her home? 

[NO, TIME TRAVEL DOESN’T EXIST, BAD ASTRONAUT CONFIRMED THEY WERE TRAVELLInG THROUGH UNIVERSES. Don’t say Arika did a time travel loop i’m sure the time monks also have some type of mind transferring technology similar to something we explore in the SSTS RP with Neu and the concept of consciousness being detached from the “vessel”, meaning it is not part of the body but rater stored in it. FUCK YOU THE LOrE OF THIS GAME SERIES IS WEIRD AND I AM PATCHING PLOT HOLES. I NEED TO OVeR THINK AND TIME TRAVEL MESSES EVERYTHING UP]

This would explain how Regina infected Choir but was still back home. And why she just let T2 do their thing with Taylor while she was probably dealing with angry witches, PWG and the lifeline being a little shit. Now that I think about it, the greens don’t know about the lifeline until crisisline. Regina never talks /to you/. Just to the characters, which I understand because you only have two options and can’t write a long fucking rant on how her plan is fundamentally flawed, why continuing to infect T2ylor will just make you angrier and that you will definitively make force gasoline down her throat and set her on fire while you stepping on her flaming corpse. 

But my point is, Regina doesn’t consider /you/, the player as the reason why things aren’t going her way. Which honestly, ma’am, open your eyes. The player will fucking kill you if you keep pretending they don’t exist. Ignoring your problems won’t make them go away, It just makes them want to strangle the living shit out of you and then leave you alone in a dark room with an increasingly high frequency sound for months without substance or contact with other beings so you fucking finally beg your problems to end your miserable life. 

But anyway. Point is, while vessel 1 is trying to to figure out how to survive in the moon, vessel 2 is trying to survive in earth without being spotted because she’s even more fucked than vessel 1 who at least have the drones with her and some equipment + cattle that will die out before the humans arrive because she can’t terraform the planet and honestly, the only way for them to save her race is to get them to earth where the planet doesn’t need to be terraformed. 

Things happen simultaneously; vessel 1 assess the situation and tries to establish a base on the moon while vessel 2 explores the world and takes over small animals before trying to tackle the humans who are the first sentient species she encounters an honestly that’s terrifying imagine finding a 9 feet tall alien that could possibly crush you if they really wanted to. You don’t even know if they can be affected by your abilities and you’re alone so can’t use drones to experiment.

 Also detection would probably mean death and you don’t even know where this planet is what if it is close to the place you landed and they come around and also kill your remaining hive. So yeah she uses at least a year before making a move on the humans because she needs to have enough time to produce drones. 

I don’t know the timeline exactly, but at some point vessel 1 runs out of cattle + vessels so that’s what motivates vessel 2 to make a move on humans and realizes a lot of stuff about us and just how ALIEN we are to her so she needs to take her time studying us and our lifestyle. I believe she might be overwhelmed with the confirmation that these are sentient creatures and doesn’t know exactly how to proceed since they’re the dominant species of the planet but doing more research she realizes at the rhythm humanity is going they’ll fuck up the only habitable planet at her reach for now so yeah we go from Predator to Prey and, if she wins, to Cattle.

So yeah, she probably orchestrated the ships going to Tau Ceti, maybe she even had a hand on humans developing space travel so soon. It had to seem natural, so vessel 1 and the rest of the hive worked on the peak with the remains of her original ship so they could pull the space ships towards the moon and feed on the survivors, but after they ran out of resources, the greens entered some sort of hibernation state where they conserved energy while waiting for the ships to arrive. 

I think no one knew about the thousands of ships that were sent because Regina was doing an elaborate cover up (ex. they exploded, never reached their destination, went MIA and presumed dead, etc.) to keep this from reaching the masses because by now she knows how humans work and her kind is starving. 

So yeah, the best way to influence the world is by having money so Regina began investing and doing finances so the government had to hear Pearson Corp (she is not very imaginative, leave her be.) and the Green Coalition would control the economy in several countries but she hasn’t fully infected the usa because she was more interested in the monster that’s the Chinese government and the Russians, they’re just bigger and while a bigger challenge, this will definitely give a better advantage if she is capable of infecting the organizations in charge. 

While I know the greens keep saying “UNTIL EVERYTHING IS GREEN” that’s not really true, this is just green propaganda from Regina. She knows she can’t get everyone green because they need the cattle and these vessels don’t reproduce asexually and having sex requires energy you could be redirecting to other things so she will leave the monkeys to mate alone and then she will take them for parts later. Just like in her home planet, but a bit more complex since this cattle is intelligent and doesn’t like to be told what to do. 

So yeah, Regina hasn’t taken full control over the governments of the countries she is trying to take over because 1) PWG, 2) Mages 3) Monkey smart, monkey scary.

There’s a thing I haven’t touched and that’s the magic potential in human beings. Magic is a force of nature just like electricity in this universe, so shut up. Everything is science alright? I like science, it’s easier to take things that already exist than to attempt to make a new system with many inconsistencies on how it works with no other purpose than to make things cool and glue plot holes with “MAGIC”. No easy explanation. We die like men.

Regina suspects the monkeys with high magic affinity were somehow exposed to another entity her species had already encountered but never managed to bend their will to their whims. She doesn’t know how it happened, but she knows the monkeys are too good at the magic to just straight up attack them. They’re not fully human, but I am not sure of what’s the thing that makes them have that affinity with magic when most creatures don’t have it. The greens for sure can’t magic without a vessel that is able to use it. 

But anyway, since Regina somehow managed to infiltrate into the magic communities (headcanon New Tenacity wasn’t the first but hopefully the last to fall in Regina’s hands), she began experimenting with the usages and exploitable nature of magic. Warp and Weft was her primary concern, as she needed it for transporting her hive to Earth. Once she got it, she encountered two problems: One, it kills non mages almost instantly if they attempt to use it. Two, it doesn’t work with large quantities of entities. 

So no only she couldn’t use it to take the hive to Earth. She would have to send mages to the moon if she wanted to be able to get them out with a relatively good chance of success by casting a massive spell to get the greens out of the moon.

Now, this was not only very time consuming, but stupidly difficult to pull out since mages like being reclusive. 

So she started looking for ways to track mages and send them to the moon, somehow. She eventually dipt in family ancestry and probably found suitable candidates that weren’t as dangerous as trained mages. Think of them as persons with an incredible magical potential, but they’re not even aware of their power. Like that creepy little girl Arika talked about (my personal theory is that the hand used her as host for this reason). 

I think this eventually got Regina to pick Taylor as one of the candidates. Of course, the contest was rigged in order to make the student the winner. I firmly believe their fate was planned since the beginning, but neither Regina or Taylor could have potentially anticipated the impact the lifeline would have in the green’s plans.

So Regina sent Taylor as the first of many to be mages to come. They would be the first experiment in the matter, if potent magical non users could even be exploited in the way Regina required. Of course, her plan was fooled by Taylor being more adept than she thought they would be. 

So she focused on the exploration of dark Magic, trying to tear the quintessence(or however its written) in order to achieve more power for her plans. She was unsuccessful, at first. But eventually managed to make a little slave, a golden bird-like creature of solid gold. It was not powerful enough to teleport the whole hive, but small groups of entities could be warped to wherever she desired. This would be helpful, but now she had a loan to pay. 

Ripping the fabric of space and Time itself is bad, very bad. Like apocalyptically bad. And Regina wouldn’t realize her mistake until she was confronted with the lifeline and Alex.

Wynn was an eye opening for Regina, as she realized the potential her mutated freak had. This is why she wanted her back so badly, she needed to reverse engineer that drone’s mutation and use it to make the greens more sneakier, less apparently dead to humans and more livid. The green kept her consciousness and personality. This was unheard of before, this was a breakthrough possibly caused by the exposure to the human species.

Regina probably thought at first she was dealing with a rogue queen, considering her own experience. But I’m sure she realized that was not the case when she produced the next green with that capability. I call these kind of greens “elites” as they’re more capable of blending in than the drones and they get to keep the host’s personality as their own. Regina was very pleased with this development, but it took a while to get vessel 1 to produce the elites.

When Taylor finally was hers, they were infected with the first set of elites from vessel 1. Regina realized she could use the failed Tipler Cylinder to continuously go to other universes and infect more Taylors for her mage project. So she kept the “loop” going until there were enough of them so they were expendable and not really a problem if the experiments went wrong.

Until the lifeline came and crashed the party, again.

At this point Busy and Canon Regina diverge, because while canon Regina disregards the danger that the lifeline is to her plans, Busy takes the threat seriously and immediately moves resources to find this individual that keeps messing with her plans, without much progress, as the lifeline doesn’t exist in the current cluster of universes she inhibits, successfully staying anonymous to the greens.

In the SstS rp, there’s an alternative universe called Murdeline, while Busy makes her first appearance. There are two queen hives in SstS; Peka’s Hive and Busy’s hive (this includes the owos who are another layer that I won’t touch here because believe me, even though their abilities are ridiculously powerful, they’re…. too adorable.). Peka’s Regina is… frustrating to talk to, and honestly does a good job on making her a mysterious threat and still conveys the “I’m improvising and pretending everything is under control” that I keep reading from Regina. 

Peka’s Queen keeps leaving the heavy work for the elites, while she goes to do god knows what (not even Holly knows), trapped in 2016 forever thanks to *vague plot reasons* that i still don’t understand and would rather stayed that way as vessel 2 was on Austin and at this current point on the RP T2ylor is would be in close proximity with one of the vessels. And that’s No Good.

Busy is… very direct. And if something doesn’t go right she’ll risk one of her vessels to make it go the way she wants it to go. Because she played the elite route and was disappointed with T2 performance so she closed the loop and focused on getting more Mage covens under green control to make herself the best magical fleshsuit she could get through eugenics. And she managed to pay her debt through….. other means.

Anyway, that’s enough for scenario one, this document is already 9 pages long.

TLDR; Regina has no idea of what she’s doing because she’s the sole survivor of her kind after civil war. She’s improvising and keeps fucking up but pretends everything is going according to plan otherwise the greens might actually murder her in cold blood because if a queen is not doing her job, another shall replace her.

@pekasairroc Have fun.

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions final chapter: ‘Gravitationally locked’

Synopsis: In the aftermaths of the final battle, Harold reflects on the future of himself, Overwatch, and the world.

Read it here or find it on AO3. You can find me on twitter @alphawave13 or on my Sigrold discord server. 

It’s been a wild ride writing this. This story didn’t turn out the way I initially planned, but I think that’s a good thing. Change, I think, is the biggest thing about this story, especially in how Sigma and Harold grow as people. I’m probably gonna stick to one shots from now on while I recover from long fic fatigue. 

It really means the world to me that you guys supported me as much as you did throughout this journey. I got fanart, and more fanfics, and a Sigrold week, and a lot more smut than I expected, and I’m so glad I contributed as much as I did. It’s not goodbye, just a farewell for now. So thanks for reading, and thanks for all the space dads. In Harold Winston’s famous words: Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be. 

-

For many different reasons Overwatch doesn’t put Harold on missions. His leg still needs time to heal, that is the most immediate excuse, but in truth the mission to Horizon had made some things complicated. Namely, the fact that Dr. Harold Winston is legally dead for the second time in a row. And honestly, Harold has had his fill of excitement for the time being. Action-packed fighting and running is all well and good, but he’s not built for it. Still, there's no way he can't be involved, so Winston convinces him to becomes a handler during the missions. If he’s honest with himself, he’s good at it. He keeps calm under pressure and he’s able to pick out the little details in the grainy surveillance data. Surveillance work like this isn’t too different from the work he did decades ago in Horizon. The difference is that it'll help the lives of many, rather than a few gorillas and some uptight Horizon scientists.

Siebren insists that being a handler is Harold's true calling, and he wants to agree, but he’s sure sooner or later he’ll feel that itch, that desire to help people more directly, to be there with the other Overwatch members in the thick of it. Until then, he’ll stay here and do what he's good at.

With a few exceptions, Siebren doesn’t go on missions either. He’s continuing his research into gravity and the nature of his powers, which has now expanded to include wormholes. Symmetra is helping him out on that matter in the hopes that perhaps his work could be incorporated into her hard light teleporter. It is a little bit of a shame he doesn’t go on more missions, because Harold always likes the way Siebren looks in his armour, especially the way that harness of his digs perfectly into his thighs. Then again, given the choice, he’d vastly prefer Siebren not wear his sexy armour and stick around the base. Who else is going to push his wheelchair and dote on him?

From the outside, there is the impression that Watchpoint: Gibraltar is having one of its slow days. An insider like Harold, however, knows that it’s never not busy. On his end alone, he’s been reading and re-reading his original research into his nanobots, searching for ways to improve the design. If he’s not doing that, he’s souping up his wheelchair with Torbjörn and Reinhardt to make it fly, and if he’s not doing that, he’s doing physical therapy with Mercy and Genji. And on the few instances he has free time, it’s usually spent with someone else. Often times it’s with Winston or Siebren. Occasionally it’s with Tracer or Mei or Sojourn.

Today, however, he’s expecting someone else. Someone he’s spent a lot of time tracking down and a lot more time convincing to come over.

At the edge of the base, a mech in the shape of a sphere rolls over, moving to a sudden stop in front of Harold. Siebren is holding onto the bars of Harold’s wheelchair, shaking his head incredulously while Winston laughs happily. The top of the mech pops open, revealing a large hamster wearing a small vest. The hamster waves.

“Hammond, it’s good to see you,” Winston says.

Hammond makes a series of squeaks. After seeing the blank stares from Harold and Siebren, he rolls his eyes audibly, and then punches something on the console of his mech. “THE HAMSTER IS HAPPY TO SEE YOU ALL TOO.”

Harold grins proudly. “I’ve heard you’ve been up to some trouble while I was gone.”

Hammond makes some discontent squeaks, eyebrows rising in surprise and shame. He crosses his arms and turns his head to the side with a huff.

“A pity," Harold smirks. "I’ve been looking forward to see what kind of trouble you can make with us. What do you say, little guy?”

Hamond makes a questioning squeak to Winston, who nods his head. His little cheeks bunches up into a wide smirk as he makes a series of confident squeaks. “THIS SMALL MAMMAL WILL SHOW YOU WHAT KIND OF TROUBLE HE CAN GET UP TO.”

Siebren is still shaking his head. "This little rascal is going to be the end of me."

Hammond proves himself to be a rebellious little creature, and has a lot of fun messing with others while he’s not in his mech. Aside from Siebren, Harold, and Winston, no one else seems to have caught on that the pilot of Wrecking Ball is a genetically enhanced hamster. When he’s not working on his mech, he revels in pranking the others. His favourite victim is Torbjörn, moving things around in his workplace and modifying his gadgets so they work differently. No one questions the strange ball mech becoming a new member of the reformed Overwatch, and no one ever asks about Wrecking Ball’s true identity. Soon, Hammond becomes a member of this strange interspecies family, albeit a rebellious one who very much doesn’t like to be showered with affection. In other words, typical behaviour not unlike that of a human teenager.

If Siebren has any opinions about suddenly being a father figure to a hamster and a gorilla, he doesn’t say anything. Privately, Harold thinks Siebren is beginning to like the strange new relationships he’s forming, not that he’d ever say it out loud.

-

Overwatch expands over time. New operatives from unlikely places arrives to join the fight. Hanzo, Genji’s brother, arrives to quiet fanfare, and keeps mostly to himself, taking his time to warm up to his new comrades and to his new life under Overwatch. Much louder and much more destructively is the arrival of Junkrat and Roadhog, whose explosive entrance made more than a few people question why Winston allowed the criminals to work under their banner, even if they were trying to go "legit". Symmetra and Mei were both especially vocal against Junkrat’s stay in particular, but while Mei continues to remain icy to the Junkers after their first meeting, Symmetra has slowly warmed up to the pair, to the surprise of everyone.

Orisa and her creator, Efi, both don’t show up in person as they are still protecting Numbani, but they are also made Overwatch agents through a long-distance call. Pharah pledges her allegiance and offers her support, but says she has an obligation to lead her own team in Helix first and foremost. Baptiste arrives suddenly one day with Sombra, making snide complaints about the lacking facilities like it’s an average day for them. Their reasons for joining are purposely vague whenever they’re questioned, and Harold suspects they’re ultimately self-serving, but they help with their respective talents and don’t push too many buttons.

One day, when he’s sure she’ll least expect it, Harold hands Sombra a framed photo. Her nose scrunches up.

“What’s this?” She asks.

“You asked me to get you some pictures. Turns out I had some photos in the data I retrieved up there. It’s old, but hey, you wanted a photo from space, right?”

For once, Sombra is silent, cradling the photograph gently like it’s made of the most fragile crystal. She observes the graininess of the photo, the pitch black of Space and the shimmering blue Earth, big and wide and beautiful.

Her lips thin. “I was joking, you know.”

“I know. But I found it, and you asked for it, so I thought, why not?”

Sombra smiles softly, a rare warm look that makes her look more youthful and vibrant. Like the flash of a camera, it's there for only a second before her warm smile turns into a colder smirk. “Things like this,” she waves the photo, “are why men like you get killed.”

Harold shrugs. “I came back from the dead twice now. And that's not counting all the other times I've nearly died in the past few months already. I almost used up all of my nine lives.”

Sombra snorts. “You’re not a cat. And this is a boring photo, you know. I’m not in it.”

“It’s a picture of the Earth. Everybody’s in it. Everyone's together.” He smiles. "That's the best thing about looking at Earth from the moon, I think."

Tracer will later ask Harold why Sombra is acting so nice for the rest of the day. For Sombra’s pride, he fakes ignorance. No one else needs to know.

-

As the nights grow longer, Harold finds himself retreating to his bedroom more often. Siebren is often there before him, helping Harold into bed before curling up next to him. He remembers those little moments in their past when they used to have playful arguments about who gets to be the little spoon. The good thing about being handicapped is that he gets first preference. Soon, warm, hairy arms surrounds his midsection, a hooked nose presses into his neck. A soft sigh breathes onto the sensitive flesh, making him shiver.

“Heard you had a fun day with Reinhardt,” Harold smirks.

“Don’t remind me,” Siebren groans. “My arm is sore from that arm-wrestling contest. Look at it.” He dangles it in front of Harold’s face. Harold lightly pushes it away.

“It’s your fault for accepting that challenge when Brigitte told you not to. She literally said that Reinhardt's super competitive and he doesn't hold back.”

“You say that after it is easier to look the cow in the ass,” Siebren mutters. “He was bragging to everybody about how he beat me so easily. It’s not my fault I do not regularly participate in such childish competitions of physical strength. If I used my powers, I could’ve won easily.”

“Sore loser.”

“Know-it-all.”

“Showoff.”

Siebren laughs. “Cute.”

“Handsome.” Harold chuckles when he lifts his arm, reaching behind to rub Siebren’s head. Siebren makes a sound in between a purr and a sigh, which makes Harold think of that time he worked with an animal shelter back when he was young and fresh out of university. Bony fingers crawl underneath his shirt, smoothing over his stomach. Harold can’t help but smile a little. “Siebren,” he warns.

“I’m not doing anything. Not tonight. I just want to feel you.”

Harold giggles incredulously. “You do realise what that sounds like in English, right?”

“You know what I mean,” Siebren scoffs. “I just…I need a reminder every now and then. To know you’re here. Even after everything we’ve gone through, you being by my side feels like a dream.”

“And what if it was? How’d you dream I’d end up here?”

“In my dreams, you wouldn’t end up here. We’d be together, have been together for a long time now.” Siebren smiles indulgently as he gazes up at the ceiling. “You wouldn’t have your accident, and neither would I. We’d be healthy and happy and content. We’d still be conducting research, but our progress will slow over time. We’d have a home somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle, with its own workspace for us to do any projects we so choose. Knowing you, you’d have convinced me to let us have a pet or two, or seven, or fifteen. I would not be surprised at all if our home turned into a literal zoo by this time.”

Harold giggles. It does sound like something he’d do.

Siebren continues, “I’d like to think we’d be married by that point. We’d have beautiful wedding rings and a photo album for the entire ceremony. I do not know if we’d have children—you care far too much about Winston and Hammond to not consider them as such—but I don’t think I would have disagreed if you desired to adopt or not. You would have worn me down by that point.”

“Funny how life goes,” Harold whispers. “Is that what you want?”

“Children? At my age? Absolutely not. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think that’s possible anymore if we take our current circumstances into consideration.”

“Not that. I’m talking about marriage.” He takes Siebren’s hand away from his stomach to the bed, entwining their fingers together. It’s impossibly warm and a bit sweaty. His eyes glance down to Siebren’s ring finger. “Given the chance, would you ever marry?”

Siebren gulps, trying to grasp the individual words—or perhaps even sentences—that came out of Harold’s mouth. His throat sounds dry. “I…m-marriage? It...it’s impossible, Harold. You’re legally dead for the second time in a row and I do not dare find out whether I'm officially alive or not. And even if we had rings and a ceremony and guests…” He trails off, no doubt fantasizing about what such a ceremony would be like. Harold tries to do the same, but can only imagine Winston in an ill-fitting tux and Hammond in a strangely fitted three piece suit. Suddenly, Siebren clears his throat loudly. “You and I, it’s…it’s not possible anymore.”

“I never said if it was possible now, or if it was with me. I’m saying, if you had the chance to marry anyone, and I mean anyone, right now, would you?”

Siebren slowly turns Harold to the other side so they’re facing each other. His smile is gentle and soft, in stark contrast to his sharp features. His piercing blue eyes look at Harold like he’s the most fascinating thing to ever exist in the world. Like he’s stardust, and complex mathematical equations, and the complete musical works of Erik Satie, and the secrets to gravity, all wrapped up with a bow on top.

Siebren smirks. “You already know the answer.”

Harold smiles bashfully. “You want to know my answer if you asked me that question?”

“No need,” Siebren chuckles. He presses a soft kiss to Harold’s jaw. “I know the answer to that too, my treasure.”

A nervous chuckle bubbles out of Harold's throat, a crimson blush overtaking his cheeks. His head is swimming and his body feels like Siebren's used his powers on him, making him drift higher and higher in the air. From anyone else it’s just a statement, but from Siebren that’s as good as a confession, a hidden promise of things to come or things he wishes would come. It’s hard trying to imagine how they’d be like if they were married because as beautiful as it might be, it doesn’t seem real. His reality is here with Overwatch, helping them travel across the globe to fight terrorists and save people. A peaceful life with Siebren by his side is out of his reach, not that he cares anymore. Reality is often better than fantasy, after all.

Siebren’s smiling at him. “You’re thinking again.”

Harold puts his hand on Siebren’s cheek. His eyes are focused on the space between their bodies. “Would you change anything about your life? Anything at all?”

Siebren’s lips fall as his gaze goes glassy. He thinks, seriously thinks, for several seconds. “There are things I wish did happen. I wished I didn’t lose my mind in my accident. I wish I didn’t have to hold the fragile pieces together. I wish I didn’t spend years mourning you when I thought you were dead. But I wouldn’t change anything. The law of entropy and the cosmic censorship hypothesis suggests that my current circumstances are the most optimal path my life could take.”

Harold smirks. “Just admit it. You like this, being the hero, saving people and fighting off the bad guys.”

Siebren rolls his eyes. “Perhaps I do.”

“Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That's part of what it means to be alive.” Harold quotes without thinking. “I wouldn’t change anything at all. If I did, I wouldn’t be alive. Literally and metaphorically.”

Siebren nods. “Dr Harold Winston is dead, just as Dr Siebren de Kuiper is dead. We’re different people, taking on their forms, living on with their faces but not their lives.” He runs his hand over Harold’s cheek, trailing over the catheter. “I’m Sigma, and you’re Charon. Let Dr Winston and Dr de Kuiper be the star-crossed lovers they were meant to be, up in the dark realms of space. Let us dare to see the world for what it could be.”

Harold smirks. “Should I call you Sigma now? Are you going to call me Harold?”

“I don’t care anymore. You should ask yourself those questions.”

“What, should I call myself Charon now?” Harold says incredulously.

“If you want to,” he replies. “You know who you are. And I can assure you, names do have power. Whatever you choose to call yourself, that will affect who you are and what you become.”

It’s easier said than done. It’s harder for him to let go of Harold. It is him, or at least a part of him, and it’s hard to think of himself as a different person or a different entity. He’s changed, he knew from the beginning that he has changed, but it wasn’t enough. That’s what he thought, but then it only takes a few little changes to become a different person. The man in front of him right now is a prime example of it. Is it possible that it applies to him as well? Can he be a different person, even when so much of him still feels like Harold?

Siebren is staring at him. “Well?”

Harold’s eyes lower. “Do you think I’ve changed enough?”

“What do you think?” Siebren asks.

For an instant Harold sees his reflection in Siebren’s glimmering eyes only to find himself staring at someone else. It’s not Harold Winston that Siebren stares so lovingly at. It’s a different person. A better person.

The corner of his lips quirks upwards. “You know what?" He says, "I think I finally have.”

-

The Orca drops down like butter in front of a desecrated Ayutthaya. The buildings that line the streets are old and crumbling and the streets are wide and filled with people. Stalls in the local market have been abandoned alongside the many vans and pick-up trucks. Many people are hiding in the ruins of the buildings. Others are trying to lead others to safety. In the distance, near the tourist traps and the temples stands a massive omnic, red lights scanning the horizon, hundreds of smaller omnics surrounding it.

The doors to the Orca open and four step out, the Overwatch emblem standing proud on their person. Tracer’s voice leaks through the comms.

“Alright chaps, we’ve got us a big ol’ Omnic. Government wants to preserve the temples so we gotta lead it away to the forest nearby. I’ll try and do it from the ship but you guys gotta be prepared to take this thing down yourselves.”

Sombra’s voice chirps in. “You know I could hack this thing, right?”

“So why aren’t you here?” Tracer grumbles.

“Ay, it's too hot there. You go have fun in Thailand."

Tracer’s eyeroll was practically audible. “You ready, Winston?”

“I’m ready.” He turns his head. “What about you, Hammond?”

“THE HAMSTER WANTS TO GET THE BALL ROLLING ALREADY.”

“Sigma?” Winston asks.

“Sigma present,” he declares.

“Charon?”

He fiddles with the ring on his hand, his eyes glancing at Sigma’s neck, where an identical ring rests on a simple chain necklace. It took a lot of people by surprise that morning, waking up to find the rings on their person, sipping coffee side by side. There was no grand ceremony, no big reveal. One day they were just two people. The next, they have decided to considered themselves married husbands. It's not official, and the rings are cheap and symbolic, but as long as they believe it, that's all he cares about.

It’s still a bit weird to consider Sigma his husband. Until that word doesn't taste so strange from his tongue, he'll say it again and again, and even when it does taste sweet, he'll say it some more. It's weird in so many ways, but it feels so right.

As perfectly right as being in this moment is, with his new found family, despite the danger.

“Charon here, ready and waiting for someone to get themselves injured.” He glances mischievously at Wrecking Ball.

“DIAGNOSIS: I PRESCRIBE YOU WITH WHINY [REDACTED] DISEASE.”

Charon smirks. “And here I thought I brought you up to be a polite little boy.”

“ANALYSIS: YOU MADE THIS SOFTWARE. CONCLUSION: DEAL WITH IT.”

“Settle down, you two,” Winston says. “We have a job to do. The world needs us heroes.”

Sigma scoffs lightly. “Do we count as heroes?”

"What, don't think we're heroes?" Charon asks.

"I'm not saying that at all. I'm just confirming how much collateral damage we obliged to make today," Sigma says.

Charon lets the back of his hand brush over Sigma's hand. This close, Harold can feel the strings of gravity tug at his fingertips, eager to pull him into its orbit. Inside his bloodstream, the nanobots activate, coursing through his body. He closes his eyes, savouring the sticky humid air and the thundering steps of the giant omnic and this feeling of completeness, being so close to his loved ones. He opens his eyes, dark brown irises flickering into gold. The last traces of Harold Winston leaves his body, and in his place Charon emerges.

By his side, everybody readies their weapons. With practiced hands he checks the jet injector and the backpack on his back filled with golden serum. He lets out a quiet gasp when he feels something grab onto his hand. Gloved fingers wrap around his, squeezing tightly before letting go. The man it belongs to nods his head towards the omnics and smiles. Are you ready? Sigma asks.

There's no doubt in his mind. Charon nods, smiling proudly. I'm ready. Silently, the four of them leave the ship and approach the Omnics, ready to fight and save the city.

He's dared to change himself for the better. Now, it's time for him to do the same for the world.

-

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.

Haruki Murakami – ‘Kafka on the Shore’

[pens-swords-stuff]

I feel like I should remind everyone that I actually write sometimes too — shocking, I know. So here’s a thing I wrote a long time ago, just to pretend that I’m a real Writeblr for a bit.

If there ever was a reason to be grateful, it was that Blake lives in a time where coffee and other sources of caffeine are readily available. Although it was just before 9 o'clock in the morning, she was already half-way through her second mug and a small tower of used creamers were stacked unevenly at the corner of her desk. Damn those early morning meetings; was it really necessary to gather everyone under the age of twenty-five early in the morning to discuss the implications of retweets? The Capital was full of old, decrepit people who would still use fax machines if they could. At this point, Blake was sure she was spending more time teaching her superiors how to use computers instead of her actual job.

And they said that the life of a journalist wasn't glamourous.

Her desk was full of unfinished drafts, photographs, and other piles of papers stacked haphazardly over every inch of the surface. With a sigh, Blake just piled the existing piles on top of each other to create a precarious mountain of paper to clear out some space. It was organized chaos at its finest — her desk may be a mess, but she knew where everything was... Or at least she hoped.

With a heavy sigh and tapping fingers fueled by coffee jitters, Blake impatiently waited for her computer to load web pages. Fingers automatically typed up ‘twitter.com’ into the address bar, but she thought better of it and quickly hit backspace. After lecturing a sixty-year old crusty, balding man on how to navigate the 'tweeter-sphere', she really wasn't in the mood to revisit the social media site and its apparently impossible-to-use interface.

When she logged into her email account, it was no surprise that hundreds of unread emails were blinking on the browser. 317 emails to be exact, the red bubble notification on her phone had been mocking her for days now. Wearily, Blake started clicking and manually sorting through useful emails and trash that didn't even need to be read. Passive-aggressive work memos from loud coworkers (shut up Patricia, no one cares about your lunch), junk mail (there's a sale going on in a nearby department store apparently), and death threats (only 12 emails, significantly less than yesterday) were among the ones immediately deleted without even opening.

Several rapid clicks later, her inbox was emptied of all unnecessary emails, and she could focus on what actually mattered — once she sorted through all of the false leads, that is. Days ago, Blake had published a request for the Other to contact her if they wanted their stories heard. It was a good idea in theory to gather information and first-hand accounts, but she really, really should've seen the amount of humans pretending to be the Other coming. Internet anonymity was a bitch, and a lot of trolls, people that were obsessed with the Other and bored humans who had way too much time on their hands were claiming to be special.

Somehow, Blake sincerely doubted that a real vampire or werewolf would throw in blatant Twilight or Vampire Diaries references into these emails. Just a hunch. On the off chance that they were truly what they said they were, it wasn't the type of person (could they still be called a person?) she wanted to write about. Now that article would immediately become the laughing stock of the internet. Blake's mouse hovered over the trash can icon for a long second as she fought the urge to delete the lot of them. Duty won out, just in case she was deleting important information. The things she would do for a story...

There was one email in particular however, that seemed more genuine for whatever reason. Call it journalist's intuition, or just a lack of modern (if slightly outdated) pop culture references.

Dear B. Preston, Apologies for the throwaway email address – I don’t like paper trails. I saw your call for stories from the Other in The Capital, and after serious deliberation, I have decided to express my own interest in the project. I am a vampire of not insignificant experience who would be willing to answer any questions you might have, from my condition in general to my personal history, so long as the result is anonymised. As this is uncharted territory for the both of us, and perhaps even both our kinds, I am an unsure as to whether the best medium would be in writing or an in-person interview. Whichever option you would feel more comfortable with. Obviously, dining with the stuff of nightmares isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Looking forward to your reply. Sincerely, Someone who would rather not sign his name in writing.

Blake leaned back into her office chair as she read and reread that email, thoughtfully chewing off the lipstick she had hastily smeared on so that she could claim that she cared about appearances. It was impossible to gleam whether this email rang true or not, but there was something different about this one that felt like it was worth following up on — at least the throwaway email wasn't something like totallyabloodsucker69 that she saw about three emails prior.

After quickly doing her carpal tunnel prevention hand stretches, Blake wrote out a long reply, then went back and deleted an entire unnecessary paragraph and several other snarky comments that had just slipped out. She was a professional, and should probably act as such. No need to scare off a potential vampire contact — as silly as that sounds.

Dear someone who would rather not sign their name in writing, Thank you for your response, your willingness to share your story to the public is greatly appreciated. I can promise it will be put to good use. An in-person interview probably would work best, if only to be able to say that I've confirmed that you're a vampire in person. It's far too easy for people to pretend to be something they're not online — there's simply not enough credibility over the internet. I conduct a lot of interviews over at The Daily Grind for the casual atmosphere, but I'm open to any alternatives you have in mind. I've attached my schedule to this email, let me know when you're available. And finally as a formality — and I honestly have no idea what I'm looking for — is there any way you can send me proof of your claim? As mentioned before, there are far too many people pretending to be anything other than human. Regards, Blake Preston.

Perhaps only a split-second after she hit send, a roar of "Preston, turn the radio on now!" was shouted at her from behind. Blake spun around in her chair in alarm, staring at Jones who just barged through the door with wild, panicked eyes.

"What are you——"

"Do it! Now!"

Jones didn't even give Blake another moment to respond as he flew forward to fiddle the radio to the right broadcast, not bothering to wait for the shocked journalist to catch up to his intensity. Precious few seconds were evidently lost as Jones' fumbling fingers finally managed to push the right set of buttons. Blake actually listened to On the Edge radio quite often, but an unfamiliar voice flowed through the speakers.

Think of the teenagers lost during Nick Bloodfang’s rampage: three young girls, on their way home from a party on the wrong night of the lunar cycle, left for dead. That is only the tip of the iceberg...

Though she didn't quite understand what was going on yet, Blake turned on the recording function of her phone after seeing Jones frantically gesticulated to her. Blake's brows were knit in confusion as she listened to the broadcast. Something wasn't right, something didn't feel right.

Blake's jaw dropped along with her stomach as the 'segment' ended with a human call for action. It was pathos at its finest, playing up on the fear that she knew swept throughout the humans when the Other first came to light a month or so ago. Even though the current position of most people was uncertain, tension and fear grated roughly on most humans that she knew. Jones and Blake shared a slack-jawed stare of disbelief.

This was hate speech, inciting people to violent acts because they painted the Other as mere criminals with no other purpose besides murdering innocent people.

By the time Louise's voice came back on the air, Blake snapped out of her stupor to open a brand new word document on her computer. Although the highjack had ended only seconds before, she was already replaying it on her phone as her fingers flew over the keyboard, transcribing it to the best of her ability. "I can't believe I missed the bloody beginning. Colin, did you get——"

Blake's fingers kept moving as she glanced over to her partner's desk, suspiciously empty and untouched since yesterday.

"Where the hell is Colin!?"

[feathersandsweetkisses]

Pick a Card Reading - What Do I Need To Know Currently?

Hello everyone, 

Here is a pick a card reading I decided to do. The question I decided to go for is what does each group need to know. It’s a timeless reading and a general one at it, so take what resonates with you. Take some time to take a few breaths and decided on which pile is calling to you. The groups are 1 to 4, from left to right.

I hope that the group you chose resonates with you! I’d also love to hear feedback from you and also hear if you would like me to do more pick a card readings. If you have any questions you would like me to do for a pick-a-card reading don’t hesitate to comment on the post or send it through my ask box! 

Lots of love,

Rose

Group 1 (Amethyst):

For those who chose group number one here are your cards: The Three of Swords, the Hermit and the Seven of Cups.

With the Three of Cups it seems like you have recently gone through some sort of heartbreak or betrayal, and a few of you are just getting into that stage. Which doesn’t have to be a romantic one, for some of you it is a romantic heartbreak but for others it isn’t. Once again this is a general reading so I get different messages, so take what resonates with you. This heartbreak/betrayal has left you in a state of deep sorrow and grief, which is clouding your sight.

The advise for you is that you shouldn’t stay stuck in this stage of grief and sorrow. It’s alright to take a moment to realise what happened and take a moment to allow yourself to let your emotions free in a healthy way, but you shouldn’t stay in that stage for too long. 

You need to enter in the Hermit stage. The Hermit card is inviting you to embody his energy, to take personnal time in order to put into retrospective on what happened, see if there were things that could help you avoid having the same incident repeating itself in the future. It’s an invite to take the time to heal yourself deeply, rediscover yourself and achieve inner personnal growth. 

This will allow you to enter into that Seven of Cups energy, being able to plan out what different choices might come up now in your life and evaluating with a new view and with this personnal growth and discovery of oneself in taking the best choice/path. The abbility to discovering these new opportunities that you have in life once you get out of this veil of sorrow and grief that is covering your eyes. Though one warning I am getting for some of you is to stay grounded and be careful on not falling for illusions.

Groupe 2 (Celestite):

For those who chose group number 2 here are your cards: The Ace of Wands, the Fool, the Moon.

For this group I am getting two different situations. Some of you have been stuck in this stagnant phase, where not much has been going on and has been leaving you bored, disatisfied and wondering if this will keep going on for long. As for some of you, you have been met with a new opportuniy that has been leaving you hesitant on what to do.

If that’s your case and you chose this group reading this is a sign that a new good opportunity will come that will bring some passion in your life.

The Ace of Wands is showing that some of you have already come face to face with this offer of an opportunity that could spark up your life but you are feeling hesitant and the Moon in this case is representing this fear and hesitancy on accepting the offer. For the rest of you the Ace of Wands is telling you to hang on there cause such an opportunity is very close and comming quickly towards you.

The Fool card is inviting you to embody it’s energy. Don’t be scared to take a leap of faith towards this new offer. Go out and tackle on a new adventure that can benefit you. For some this new opportunity might not be a long terme one but it will definetly teach you something new and prepare the field for better things to come.

As for the Moon card there are two messages again. For those who fall under the category of being worried to tackle this new opportunity, this card is calling out those feelings of hesitancy and fear. You should push those fear to the side and not allow yourself fall under any illusions, trust your insticts and don’t be scared to tackle a new adventure. Fear can only hinder us from living our life to the fullest if that fear is excessive and taking the control over us. For those who don’t fall into the category I just talked of, the Moon is still here to tell you to listen to your intuition, but not to be tricked by the appearance of a situation either. You have a currently a heightened intuition so use it to your benefit.

Group 3 (Lapis Lazuli):

For those who chose group 3 here are your cards: The World, the Sevenf of Wands, the Magician.

With the World card there’s a sense of completion of a cycle, that either just happened or will do so very soon, that will lead to a new one which will be able to bring growth and leave place for you to plant seeds of your goals and dreams.

If you look close to the woman on the World card, you’ll see her holding close to her a sphere, concentrating and sending her intentions and thoughts to it. This figure looks very similar to the Magician with only slight differences.

With the end of the old cycle you need to take the time to sit down and plan this new beginning that the universe has presented you. Take the time to carefully plant the seeds of your thoughts and intentions and with nurturing energy manifest these goals and thoughts in you life. Embody these two figures that are depicted in the World and the Magician cards.

The Magician is all about willpower, intuion and manifestation. You have all the tools needed in order to achieve the goals you set your mind on and you can manifest them in your life.

Work with the universe, not against it. With the seven of wands I am receiving two different messages once again. This is a general reading so please take whichever message resonates with you. With the Seven of Wands some of you might be in a very defensive and stubborn state, not wanting to end and leave place for the new one. Those defenses should be removed and allow your intuition and the universe help you and guide you. By being defensive and scared of making a new change in your life, refusing to allow what has ended to die so that newness can come to life, you are blocking your flow of intuition and blocking greater things to take place in your life, thus shutting down the abbilities of the Magician in you.

The second message I’m getting from this card is that those who have managed to get into a new cycle and are ready to start planting the seeds of their goals, they should know that they have the strength and willpower to manifest them into your life. You should stand by your decisions and not allow those who wish you bad to stray you from your goals. I feel that some people for some of you will try to get into your way either because of their lack of understanding towards your decisions or because of their own ego and selfishness, so that’s something that should be kept in mind. Make sure nonetheless, to make the difference between those who are here to constructively help you from making a bad decision and those who act upon their own selfishness and lack of understanding.

Group 4 (Moonstone):

For those who chose group 4 here are your cards: Three of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords.

WIth the Three of Wands and Knight of wands some of your are naturally very adventurous and can’t wait to embark on a new one, and some of your are interested into spicing up your life by embarking on a new adventure. I see some of you are wanting to jump into travelling too. But nonetheless a feeling of a wild spirit thirsty for new adventure is present.

There is a sense of planning and then jumping without a second thought into these plans to realise them, a livliness ruling over you and making you take hasty decisions, making you jump into action without being vigilant. You are impatient and being stagnant is something you can’t stand.

The Page of Swords is sweeping in here though to tell you that this lively spirit you have, this sense of wanting to embark on adventures or keep things moving in life is great but you need to pull your horse back. You need to be more patient, take the time to think things a bit more through and take more time when making plans. Being hasty can and will make you stumble and fall off your horse and it will hurt. Learn to have more balance in your life while still keeping the liveliness in you.