#and apparently it's before the battle in meridian

[esamastation]

Part thirty-six of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five

-

What do you get when you take the random encounters of a turn-based RPG and add a hefty dose of action RPG, and then turn that into a semi-realistic world? You get absolute shitton of critters.

There's so many. Not just types, of which there admittedly aren't that many. There are lizards called Tail Vaults that try to headgrab you, there are huge beetles called, weirdly, Bizarre Bugs that either try to body slam you or poison you, depending on whether they feel like flying or not, there are birds that try to electrocute you, which are, disappointingly, called Thunderbirds - disappointing, because they're barely the size of falcons and something called Thunderbird should honestly be bigger…

Sephiroth is really starting to feel at home here! While the monsters of Final Fantasy VII so far aren't exactly impressing him with their variety or imaginativeness, they're just about on par with PIDW with how fucking annoying they are.

Because they never fucking stop coming!

"You know, I was really enjoying this," Sephiroth comments after another random encounter with half a dozen or so mixed mobs. "I was having such a good day. But these things just don't stop coming, do they?"

"Welcome to Wutai, it's all bugs and angry grasses from here to the bitter end," Angeal agrees. "Just be glad there aren't any Adamantaimai here."

"What's that?" 

"Big turtle with a bunch of shield magic that throws all your attacks back at you."

"Ooh, I want to see one!" Sephiroth says excitedly.

"Sephiroth, no," Angeal says firmly.

"But -"

"Firstly, they live in the northern end of Wutai, so it would be a week's trek there, and for two we have our hands full here," Angeal says. "We're not going to see Adamantaimai."

Sephiroth sighs. "Fine," he mutters and looks ahead. "Oh, look, more bugs."

"Back to it, then," Angeal agrees, adjusting his gloves.

Though they can't seem to take more than twenty steps before running into more monsters, the fights themselves aren't hard. It's actually really cool, to just mow them down in single swings like he can! The Liu-shidi vibes are incredible, just, ten out of ten. And the more Sephiroth fights, the more comfortable with his body he becomes. He can almost feel his meridians unwinding!

It's really quite something to be in a body that feels so at ease, swinging a sword around. Though he could've done without the whole villain alien hybrid who will one day try to destroy us all thing, there's something really nice about fighting now. Like Shen Qingqiu felt at ease reading or painting or playing music, Sephiroth's feels most comfortable swinging a sword.

It's really becoming more and more apparent by the moment that Sephiroth's body is best suited for physical cultivation. He can just feel his stress levels coming down!

Ah, but he would really like a little break to take in the rest of what Wutai wildlife has to offer too! The forest around them isn't just a backdrop in a battle screen, there's all kinds of interesting plants, and he's pretty sure he's seen some familiar trees, and Sephiroth would really like to take a closer look!

"Can we take a break?" he asks, trying not to sound too plaintive after the umpteenth fight against endlessly spawning mobs.

"Are you getting tired?" Angela asks, alarmed.

Honestly he doesn't even feel like he's been exercising. Sephiroth has a fucking golden body, it's ridiculous. "No. I just want a break."

"Yeah, sure - we'll take a break," Angeal says and deals away with the rest of their most recent patch of enemies. "What's going on - are you alright?"

"I'm fine - I just want to take a look at that tree over there," Sephiroth says, nodding. There's a really huge tree a little ways from them, big enough that it's visible at a distance and past the other trees. 

"Huh? I mean, sure?" Angeal says and looks. "I guess it's pretty impressive - is there something wrong with it?"

No, it just looks like a ginkgo tree. Sephiroth shrugs and, after making sure they're not about to be stormed by another swarm of low-level mobs, walks over to the tree.

It is a ginkgo tree, a really old one - old enough that if it was in PIDW, the locals would've already started giving it tributes in expectation of its awakening. It's so big it's starting to push out other trees around it, outcompeting them for space and sunlight, and so creating a clearing around itself.

It really… looks like a stray piece of home. Though there weren't that many ginkgo trees on Cang Qiong Mountain, there were some - including one really impressive one on the Beast Peak, which they were expecting to awaken any year now. The disciples used to hang charms from its branches.

Sephiroth puts his sword away as he approaches the tree. Feeling a bit silly but also not wanting to be rude, he bows to the tree before going closer. Gently, he rests his hand against the tree trunk. It takes some effort… but he can feel the Qi flowing in the tree trunk. There's a lot of it, too.

The tree is not awakening - but at the same time is not… not awakened already? 

Probably something to do with the cyclic nature of souls in this world. Everything is sort of reincarnation of everything else - so the Qi in the tree is thousands of years old, thousands of lives lived.

"... Sephiroth?" Angeal asks quietly. "What are you, um…?"

"This tree is old. Very old," Sephiroth says - then bites his tongue on the natural conclusion of that statement in old as balls. Trying not to lose his composure, he looks up. "No trees like these near Midgar."

"... No, there aren't," Angeal agrees, eyeing him. "Can you… feel something from the tree?"

Sephiroth looks down at him. "You mean the Lifestream coursing through it?"

Angeal looks a bit startled at that before shrugging, uncomfortable. "I know they all say that Lifestream is just a bunch of nonsense - but it's like you said," he says. "No trees like this around Midgar."

"Mn," Sephiroth hums.

"You know, sometimes I wonder what might've happened if they built a reactor in the Mideel Islands," Angeal says, considering the tree. "They say the ground is too unstable and there's too many earthquakes, but… if they had…"

Mideel is this world's version of the Pacific islands, right? "All your weird apple trees would've died, probably," Sephiroth muses.

"How dare you call our apples weird, sir," Angeal says, mock offended. "I would have you know, Banora Whites are my hometown's main export!"

"Don't you call them stupid apples or something?"

"Dumb apples," Angeal says with a huff.

"I rest my case," Sephiroth snorts and looks up at the Ginkgo tree. Sunlight is screening through the leaves, like dancing sparkles of gold, and if he was Shen Qingqiu, he'd try his hand at a poem for it just about now. Maybe he could do a bit of meditation here…

And of course that's when there's a sound of twigs snapping and leaves rustling somewhere behind them as something large and probably angry comes their way. Damn.

"I guess break time is over," Sephiroth mutters and grabs his sword. "I know there's an Enemy Lure materia - is there an Enemy Repellant one?"

"If I ever find one, I'll let you know," Angeal says, putting his fists up.

And they're back into the fray.

[professoruber]

Thoughts of Birds of Prey (2023-) #6

Spoilers for Birds of Prey (2023-) #6

So the newest issue of the current Birds of Prey comic has recently come out and I guess since I took the time to make multiple fairly long-ish posts about this run, I should go over my thoughts here.

To sum things up... I thought it okay but also not really too big of a fan by the end of it. I didn't exactly dislike it, but I guess it left me with too many questions and felt a bit too contrived. It was enjoyable enough, but kinda felt like my enjoy-ness of it decreased with each subsequent issue. It wasn't bad, but I guess that's my knee-jerk fresh reaction.

Of course, it still possible that there is more to the story than there is now and that future issues will reveal new information which might clear up some of my issues more, I'll be discussing that as well...

Note again that I am a novice in comics, and Gotham Academy was one of the first I read fully so perhaps I'm biased in that area. But to go over my thoughts for why I kinda feel slightly disappointed in more detail...

What was the point of Meridian?

Warning of future doom, apparently. So as it turns out, the real reason that Barbara wasn't include was because she died eleven times already

(the fact that this was far from Meridian's first attempt was foreshadowed last issue with her noting where the last battle "always is"). So someone is out to get the Birds of Prey, and they're possibly using Future Maps time travel tech to do it.

While this does somewhat answer the question of why Barbara was specifically excluded; still doesn't explain the secrecy.

Like, all these visions of Barbara dying have her in her Batgirl outfit, so couldn't she just have been informed she'd die and asked to oversee the mission as Oracle? Or does that also somehow lead to her death?

Being kept in the loop would also presumably have greatly helped avoid awkward feelings like this. And from what I know of Barbara, her tactical mind is probably more valuable than her martial art skills. But I guess whatever evil time traveller is targeting the BoP would've found a way to get to Babs anyway? (also on a side note; Barbara getting hurt by not being included was at least one thing I kinda predicted. My other, more thougt-out predictions though... well I'll get to those in a bit)

It also confirms that Dinah indeed did not apparently get any explanation for why she had to exclude Barbara until after the mission was complete and.... that feels weird?

Like I said, I'm a novice on comics (although I am now definitely adding more Birds of Prey stuff to my to-read list) so I'm not the biggest expert on these characters. Nevertheless it feels that Black Canary here would've agreed to attack Wonder Woman and her people while excluding Oracle all on the word of a time traveller she's likely never met before (and in the present is a teenager who she's likely never met before either) without even demanding a damn good explanation first.

I guess it was more dramatic from a story perspective for Meridian to reveal this stuff now and set up the next arc. But it still just feels contrived to me. Maybe I'm overlooking/overthinking something though?

Meridian's Motives

So I've gone over a theory before that Meridian was in fact evil and possibly even connected to Megaera. That theory was not confirmed, or overly supported, by this. And it does seem like Meridian is probably on the up-and-up.

Perhaps I'm a tad biased/sunk-cost fallacy right now since I spent a decent amount of time on the theory of Meridian being evil, but still worth noting that this mission ended up Megaera possessing Sin, albeit with Sin in control (and presumably actually in control because Megaera said Sin was in control while Sin used the lasso on her).

There's still quite a few similarities between Meridian and Megaera which are a bit difficult to overlook (you can check out the link I placed above where i went into more detail into that).

Its worth noting as well that Meridian mentioned that whichever evil time traveller is targeting the BoP, they're using her technology most likely. An interesting detail, and one which raises q

Could it be Meridian is hiding something still? All the information we know about the future and her motives comes from her after all.

Or could it be she's being controlled without her knowledge? Or a second Meridian is up and about?

Perhaps it seems like I'm still focusing a disproportionate amount on Meridian, but she still remains the driving force behind all this issues of the narrative which have somewhat hurt my enjoyment and given me questions.

And to repeat what I've said before. Meridian seems like a strange direction for the character of Maps Mizoguchi.

As I've alluded to before, I'm probably quite biased in this area because I've read Gotham Academy years ago before I really got into comics like I have recently and it was one of the first runs I've finished and stuff.

Maps is a character who wants to be Robin. And that's the path which she seems to have been developed upon during her fairly recent return.

Given how still early she is in her storyline of becoming Robin (or some other kind of vigilante) it just still feels like a strange choice for Maps Mizoguchi of all people to show up as a time traveling hero with a persona and skillset which seems in stark contrast to her every prior appearance.

Meridian does not appear to be a martial artist, Maps doesn't appear to be a tech genius. Magic would seem like a more likely 'superpower' than super-tech for Maps considering the more supernatural focus of Gotham Academy.

Maps has been established with a preference for swords while Meridian is only shown fighting using a fancy taser.

Am I thinking too deeply into it? Probably, yes.

But still feels like an overall strange decision to introduce Future Maps in such a manner. Especially when Present Maps has only returned to semi-focus in recent years and still hasn't really developed too much in her own current goals (such as being Robin).

So taking a character who's still in need of a bit more focus and development and then giving them a future persona which is at contrast to their current development chain? Seems odd.

Also at first i just assumed Meridian comes from a post-apocalyptic future which would be retconned out of the timeline by this arc. But Meridian's comments about how she doesn't take time travel lightly and is trying to right the timeline suggests she does not in fact come from a post-apocalyptic timeline.

So does that mean Maps is destined to become Meriden?

Again, this is probably my bias due to Gotham Academy nostalgia. But I'm not sure if I'm too much of a fan of this direction for her.

Especially, as I keep noting, Present Maps has only barely gotten started on working on becoming Robin (or any-kind of vigilante); but Meridian seems to suggest Maps is going to drop her current direction and go in a completely different direction at some point in the future.

Well those of my thoughts I guess. I suppose I'll see how things develop from here.

While I did find the Birds of Prey quite well-drawn so far and fairly enjoyable. All this thoughts I've gone over and the general feeling this arc was a tad contrived has all somewhat mitigated my enjoyment.

[griefbuilt]

–   CHARACTER STUDY   -   JEREMY GILBERT 

LAYER 001 :    THE OUTSIDE.

NAME  :     jeremy  grayson   gilbert

EYE   COLOUR  :     hazel

HAIR  COLOUR  :     brown

HEIGHT  :  6’3   and  a   half  (  rounds  up  to  6’4  when  asked  )

CLOTHING   STYLE  :   dark  colors  ;  casual  (   flannels  ,  combat  boots  ,  leather  jackets  ,  t-shirts   ,   band  tee’s  ,   jeans  ,   button-downs  ,   tank  tops  ,  leather  pants  ,  hoodies  ,  sweatshirts  ,  briefs  ,   black  nail  polish  (  less  common  )  ,  suits  and  dress  shoes  for  weddings  and  funerals   )

BEST   PHYSICAL   FEATURE  :      smile

LAYER 002 :    THE  INSIDE.

FEARS  :  isolation   ,   loneliness   ,   abandonment  ,   loss   ,  helplessness  ,   betrayal  ,  unexpected   touch   ,  unexpected   loss  of  contact   ,  loss   of  control  ,   loss   of  autonomy  ,  crowded   spaces  ,  forgetting  ,  being   forgotten.

GUILTY   PLEASURES  :  junk   food  ,  watching   trash   reality  tv   with   caroline  ,  stealing  from   chain   stores  ,  takeout  ,   true   crime   shows  ,  shitty   vampire  /  werewolf   movies   ,  singing   taylor   swift  in   the   shower   ,  ‘  borrowing ‘   small  things   from   friends   to  hoard   away ,   long   showers   ,   men.

BIGGEST   PET   PEEVE  :    bad   tippers  /  unnecessarily   rude   to  customer   service  reps.

AMBITIONS   FOR   THE   FUTURE  :     keeping   everyone   alive  (  particularly  tyler  and   stefan   ,  since  apparently   they’re   bad   at   that  )  ,  maybe  graduating  (  ?  )  

LAYER 003 :   THOUGHTS.

FIRST   THOUGHTS   WAKING   UP  :  ‘  too  early  ‘ or  ‘  time  to  go  back  to  sleep  ‘  or ‘  fuck  i  shouldn’t  of  done  that ‘  (  most  frequently  )  ;  rolling  over  to  grab  mindlessly  at  the  person  he’s  with  (  in  a  relationship  )  ;  ‘ .....again ?  ‘  (  when  regaining  consciousness  after  a  near-death  experience  )  

WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   MOST  : ‘ is  (  insert  person  here  )  doing  alright  ‘  or  ‘  how  the  fuck  did  this  happen ‘ or  ‘  how  the  fuck  are  we  going  to  get  out  of  this  ‘ or  ‘  i  wonder  what  mom  /  dad  would  say ‘ ;  generally  thinks  about  death  a  lot

WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   BEFORE   BED  :    ‘ i’ll  deal  with  that  tomorrow ‘  or  ‘  why  do  i  feel  like  i  forgot  something  ?  did  i  forget  something  ?  maybe...  etc. ‘ or  ‘  please  let  this  be  fixed  in  the  morning.  let  it  just  not  be  real  ‘ or  ‘  fuck  it.  too  tired  to  change ‘ or  ‘  tyler....  ‘  

WHAT   THEY   THINK   THEIR   BEST   QUALITY   IS  :  his  astonishing  ability  to  rise  up  from  the  dead  like  fucking  lazarus  when  people  try  so, so  hard  to  kill  him  ?  or  he  doesn’t  give  up  on  people,  even  when  he  should.... or  he  gives  great  head  or  his  loyalty  to  the  people  he  loves

LAYER 004 :    WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE   OR   GROUP   DATES  :    single

TO   BE   LOVED   OR   RESPECTED  : loved….

BEAUTY   OR   BRAINS  :   beauty

DOGS   OR   CATS  :    dogs   (  how  he  wishes   tyler   was  pettable  )

LAYER 005 :    DO THEY…

LIE  :   yes      

BELIEVE   IN   THEMSELVES  :  no  

BELIEVE   IN   LOVE  :   yes

WANT   SOMEONE  :   yes  

LAYER 006 :    HAVE THEY EVER…

BEEN   ON   STAGE  :    yes  (  if  his  elementary  school  performances  count  )  

DONE   DRUGS  :   yes  (  started  smoking  pot  at  thirteen  ;  started  in  on  benzos  and  painkillers  after  miranda  and  grayson’s  death  and  branched  out  from  there  )  

CHANGED   WHO   THEY   WERE   TO   FIT   IN  :  yes  (  tried  to  fit  in  more  during  childhood  (  eg:  being  more  like  matt  /  tyler  )  but  gave  up  relatively  quickly  ----  quicker  than  he  thinks  some  people  would’ve  liked,  at  least  ;  has  begrudgingly  killed  his  compassion  to  stay  alive  /  useful (  it  wasn’t  half  as  valued  in  him  as  it  was  elena,  anyways  )  )

LAYER 007 :    FAVOURITES.

FAVOURITE   COLOURS  :   green  ,  black  ,  gray  ,  blue  , that  one  shade  of  pink  his  mom  used  to  wear  all  the  time  ,  the  sunshine  yellow  that  reminds  him  of  caroline  (  and  only  that  yellow  )  ,  brown  like  his  sister’s  eyes  or  his  dad’s  eyes  or  his  grandfather’s  eyes  -------  they  were  all  the  same  shade  ;  he  didn’t  get  them

FAVOURITE   ANIMAL  :     dogs  

FAVOURITE   BOOK  :   battle  royale  ;  slaughterhouse-five  ;  cat’s  cradle  ;  as  i  lay  dying  ;  blood  meridian  ;  junky  ;  fight  club  ;  trainspotting  ;  the  hellbound  heart  ;  house  of  leaves  ;  the  exorcist  ;  good  old  neon  ;  pickman’s  model  ;  the  terror  ;  the  indifferent  stars  above  ;  in  cold  blood  ;  gun,  needle,  spoon  

FAVOURITE   GAME  :   dishonored  ,  red  dead  redemption  ,  fallout  ,  silent  hill  ,  dead  space  ,  resident  evil  ,  scrabble  ,  clue  ,  connect  four,  uno,  risk,  blackjack,  pool,  cheat,  poker,  beer  pong,  stump   (  would  1000%  play  dnd  with  wade  tbh  )  

LAYER 008 :    AGE.

DAY   THEIR   NEXT   BIRTHDAY   WILL   BE  :   october  13th

HOW   OLD   WILL   THEY   BE  :      20

LAYER 010 :    FINISH THE SENTENCE.

I LOVE  :    too  hard

I FEEL  :     too  much  or  not  at  all

I HIDE  :     to  keep  people  comfortable

I MISS  :    my  mom

I WISH  :    things  were  different

[hzdtrees]

Free Heap

Past the Glarebreak, sandwiched between a Stormbird and just too many Thunderjaws, lies Free Heap, one of the few Oseram settlements in the game. True to Oseram fashion, there's not much left in the form of trees, giving the area it's own, almost ravaged feel. (Or maybe it is because every time I finally make it there, I was ravaged by either Thunderjaws or the Stormbird, although I've always felt Stormbirds were less of a challenge, as they need more time to compose themselves after being frozen compared to Thunderjaws, that mostly just shake it off and charge again.)

Most notably about the area however is the "heap", the scrap pile the settlement subsists on when it's not overtaken by a bandit clan and Scrappers, or they're not chasing down a herd of Behemoth in the pursuit of cables and young love.

It's also the first look at the Oseram cannon that becomes so useful during the final battle, and I do wonder - a friend rushed through her NG+ right upon finishing her first playthrough, focusing only on story missions, and was therefore able to answer the question whether the Oseram cannons are still there if you don't meet Petra at all. They are, since they seem to be so integral to the gameplay at that stage, but does it make a difference if you completed her quest, other that she comes to join the final fight? Petra tells Aloy the Oseram cannons that helped liberate Meridian - presumably the ones you use in that final battle - were a prototype to what she was working on in Free Heap (at least that is what I took from "this one's mother"), so I assumed the reason why there is no perceivable difference between her Free Heap model and the ones you use in Meridian is due to her improving on them/building new ones. So, if you never meet her, are those cannons somehow less effective? Is their aiming slightly more off? Do they differ in any way? I might also just, once again, be putting too much thought into this.

[anunkindcomparison]

This little (I say, looking at the word count being almost 2500 words) bit contains MASSIVE spoilers for everything up through Wings of the Ten in Horizon Forbidden West. PLEASE proceed with caution and understanding that if you haven’t completed those late-stage quests, you’ll spoil yourself pretty hard for some of it.

Also does this fandom like angst and almost-smut? God I hope so.

Also also thank you for every like, reblog, and comment---they seriously make my day. Bestie is cackling her mad little heart out over my shock each time someone interacts. Y’all are fabulous. Story below the gif.

Varl’s gone.

It’s been a week. A week since he stood between Beta and the Zeniths, a week since Erik plucked him from the ground like he was nothing more than a pebble.

Now we’re havin’ fun, right?

She shivers under the warm spray of water in the shower stall, the cold dread of that moment settling like a swinging Thunderjaw’s tail in her stomach—heavy and large and painful.

It’s been a week. A week that feels like a lifetime, right now. She was rescued by a Zenith and taken to the woman’s former home, fixed an override for Sunwings, and saved the Grove and most of the Tenakth tribe by flying in the same way the Ten apparently had. She’d watched Kotallo bury his spear in Regalla’s chest before she could even open her mouth to ask for a weapon to do it herself, after their challenge had ended with Regalla on her knees, and Aloy had told her she couldn’t leave her alive.

There. Blood for blood.

She’d been able to see the fury and pain in his eyes still—his fellow Marshals, slaughtered at Regalla’s command. His arm gone when he tried to save a friend, who didn’t make it in the end. All of them, avenged at last.

And then she’d put an ultimatum to Sylens, that he come and face her in person, and help them win, now that his army was gone.

How had it only been a week.

The new normal in the base was… quieter than she liked. She missed practically begging her friends not to try to kill each other every other day—especially Zo, when she talked about sparring with Erend.

Erend had been so kind, this week. He’d brought in new plants for Zo, and helped her water them all. Helped her tend the garden. Even stopped playing his favorite music as loud as he could get away with, and asked what she wanted to listen to instead.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Erend and Varl had become such good friends over the course of the preparations for the Battle at the Alight, and in the time following, when she’d left. But seeing the way Erend mourned him… there was nothing that could blind her to it now.

She’d caught Kotallo out at Varl’s grave too, upon his return to the base after Regalla’s death. Kneeling in front of it, head bowed, mouth moving. She hadn’t been able to make out the words, but she could feel the loss he felt even without hearing them.

Varl had been good at making friends everywhere.

Sliding down the glass wall, she curls her arms around her legs, sobbing as the grief hits her all over again. She hasn’t cried like this in… so long. Not even when she visited Rost’s grave. She probably should have, but there had been so much to do, and so many lives counting on her. At least, that was how she’d rationalized it at the time.

But the truth is, there’s still so much to do. And now it’s not just Meridian and the Sacred Lands being threatened—the entire world is dying, and if she fails… she dooms them all, every tribe and culture and people across the entire globe, everyone she knows and so many more she’s never seen, met, heard of. All of them are counting on her, even if they don’t know it.

Elisabet couldn’t let her emotions overtake her this way, when the world depended on her to make sure life found a way through.

But now she’s here, crying in the shower, and she can’t seem to stop herself.

“Aloy?”

The sound of Kotallo’s voice on the other side of the glass wall makes her jump, and she curls tighter around herself.

Her Focus beeps, and she sighs, pressing it. “I’m fine,” she says.

There’s silence on the other end. “You’ve been in there an hour,” Kotallo says at last. “I… worried.”

Closing her eyes, she exhales hard. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you. I just—”

“It’s no rush,” she says. “I need to get out.” She cuts the connection, stands, and turns the water off. When she pulls back the curtain that had been hung between the stalls, tucking the long towel around her body, she’s not sure if she’s relieved or upset to find Kotallo has left.

But then she turns the corner toward her room and runs straight into him. His hand flies out to steady her as she clamps her hand on the towel to keep it in place, and looks up into his eyes.

They look so pained, the way they had when they met at Stone Crest and she gave him her condolences for the loss of his fellow Marshals, and his arm.

He swallows hard as they stand there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers at last. “I did not mean to intrude, earlier.”

“I know.” Her voice is low, and a bit hoarse.

“I’ll be in my lab, if you have need of anything.”

She nods, but when he starts to let go of her, something inside her heart feels like it snaps.

What was it GAIA had said, after Varl and Zo had practically run to their room after a dangerous mission and not come out for nearly a full day?

I believe this sort of intimacy is considered life-affirming, after escaping from a dangerous situation that could very well have resulted in death.

She grabs the leather of his armor, holding him in place. He watches her, waits, but doesn’t bring his hand back up to hold onto her.

Life-affirming.

She wants something life-affirming. Something to remind her that there’s not only death and heartache in the world. Something to remind her she’s alive, not just existing between crises.

She’s pressing into him quick, quick enough he reacts instead of anticipates. His arm holds her close, even supports her weight when she pulls herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. He turns then both, and her back presses against the cold, metal wall. She gasps just above his mouth, his face so close now.

He doesn’t close the distance.

“What are we doing right now?” he whispers, panting a little. A shiver ripples through her at their closeness.

“Something life-affirming,” she says.

“Aloy—”

She presses her face closer, and he shifts back just a bit, supporting all of her weight with his one hand now.

“Please,” she breathes.

His eyes close, and then he’s carrying her to her room.

The lock clicks behind them with a simple command from her Focus. He sinks to his knees on her pallet bed, his hand releasing her slowly and she slides down against it. She looks along the lengths of their bodies, then back up at his face.

He watches her, then sits back on his heels. His head falls back, face pointed to the ceiling, and she listens to him breathe slowly.

“Kotallo?”

He doesn’t answer.

“What—”

“Not like this.”

Frowning, she scoots until she’s sitting up. “Not like what?”

He looks at her then, and she sees the war waging in his mind. He wants her, but he won’t let himself be with her. “Not like this,” he repeats, voice rough. He takes another breath. “You’re grieving. We’re all grieving.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t how you want to do this.”

“You don’t get to decide what and how I want something.”

He bows his head. “Then it is not how I want to do this.”

She blinks a few times, turning those words over in her head. Her face flushes hot, and she draws away.

“Aloy—”

“I’m sorry,” she says, sliding from the bed and pacing away from him. She’s clenching the towel tight between her fingers once more. “I…” His hand on her arm makes her look at him again.

He blows out a breath, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” His hand comes up to her face, fingers and thumb daring to touch her chin, her jaw. In the time they’ve known one another, she’s learned there’s so much more to him than just brutal warrior. She’s seen his kinder side first hand, over and over. But this, this tenderness, this is something new even now.

“Why? You didn’t…” She doesn’t want to finish that thought.

He closes his eyes, hand falling away from her face. “We have both suffered losses. I do not want…” He exhales hard and steps back, just a little. “I do not want either of us to look back on something that should bring us joy, and be met with the grief that we’re both feeling right now.” He looks at her again—the hurt still lingers so close to the surface. He mourns Varl harder than she’d realized, and coupled with the losses at the Embassy, it’s no wonder. Probably worries for Beta, too, and GAIA. And the Grove… he lost people there, when Regalla attacked. Even Regalla herself must weigh on him—she had been his fellow Marshal after all, a friend, until her rage drove her to rebellion. It’s easy to hate what someone has become, and still long for what they once were.

She steps closer to him again. Slowly, she slides the fingers of her left hand along his cheek. He catches her wrist, but doesn’t stop her—he just holds onto her gently as she cups his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

He gives her wrist a careful, reassuring squeeze. “As am I.” He lets her press into him completely then, his arm sliding around her shoulders and through her still damp hair. His chin rests on the top of her head, and she closes her eyes.

They stay there for several long moments, until she steps back. “Thank you, Kotallo.”

He presses his fist to his heart, and says nothing as he moves through her room to the door. She doesn’t watch him go, but she hears the door slide open, then shut again, and the lock click into place.

Getting dressed is quick and easy, but she lingers in the room, absorbing what he’d said.

I do not want either of us to look back on something that should bring us joy, and be met with the grief we’re both feeling right now.

Her attention is drawn to the Focus on one of the shelves in her room.

Varl’s Focus.

She’d asked Zo if she wanted it, but she said no. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to see what he might have seen. At the time, Aloy had wondered if she meant she hadn’t wanted to watch Varl die, over and over.

Now, though…

Now it feels like maybe, she wasn’t ready to see all of the happy times while she’s still so fresh in her mourning.

She takes a few more minutes before she goes to the door, dressed and composed once again.

Erend is pouring a few mugs of ale to go with the steaming cup of tea he has ready—the tea goes to Zo, and he hands Kotallo one of the ales. Alva sniffs at the one in front of her like she’s not sure about it, but she doesn’t want to offend anyone by not partaking if their culture expects it.

They clink their mugs gently, and Zo does the same with her tea, and Aloy just watches for a moment.

Erend sees her first, and raises his mug toward her.

She nods and comes out into the common area. “Is it alright if I join?”

Zo smiles. “Always.”

She settles in between Zo and Kotallo, and Erend hands her an ale. “So. What are we drinking to?”

Erend shrugs. “Anything you like.”

She thinks on that, then says, “How about to… having friends who love you.” She looks at Alva, and Zo, and Erend, and then finally Kotallo.

His expression doesn’t betray anything, but she swears she can feel the flicker of longing in him still, smoldering between them.

“To having friends that love you,” Erend echoes, and the others do the same. She taps her mug to theirs, and drinks.

Kotallo catches her eyes again, and nods. She looks down at her ale, trying not to blush too deeply.

When he steps outside an hour later, she waits only a moment or three before following him.

She finds him at Varl’s grave again, though he’s silent this time as he sits and watches the night sky. Stepping up as quietly as she can, she settles beside him.

His deeds were worthy of the Ten.

“Will you tell me something,” he says, voice as quiet as a night breeze, “if I ask you a personal question?”

She looks at the candles flickering all around them. “Probably.”

He’s quiet again for several moments, then asks, “How do the Nora go about courting one another?”

She looks at him then, blinking several times. “You want to know Nora courting customs?”

“Mmm.” He nods. When he looks at her, the pain and remorse has eased a bit.

“Why?”

His smile is fleeting. “Shouldn’t it be obvious?” He looks back at the sky. “It is not a lack of desire that stopped me, earlier.” He looks down at the ground between him and Varl’s grave. “In truth, I gave into too much of it, I suspect.”

She licks her lips slowly, considering that—the way he’d held her, carried her to her room, been poised just above her before pushing away and stopping them both.

“But I find my control lacking more and more, when I am unprepared and caught by you.” He huffs a small laugh. “I only hope I have not… broken anything between us.”

“No,” she says. “No, you haven’t.” A long slow exhale beside her makes her relax too.

“Praise the Ten,” he whispers, turning to look at her once more. “I don’t think I could bear that.”

Reaching for him gently, she slides her fingers along his jaw once again. He leans his face into her palm, and this time his hand slides up to cover her own.

“I wish we had more time,” she breathes.

He meets her eyes. “We shall make time.” That too-brief smile comes back again. “When we defeat the Zeniths.”

“That means we both have to survive,” she says.

His face turns in her hand, his lips soft against the calluses on her hand. “I intend to,” he says. “There is so much about you I still don’t know—and that I want to learn.”

That promise makes her shiver all over.

They’ll see this through, fight like hell to make it out the other side of the coming battle. And then they’ll find a way to make the time they so desperately want.

They deserve that chance.

[lilmisshungrytiger]

Okay, after a few hours of playing Horizon Forbidden West, I haven’t even reached a single save point yet (cos I was so slow with the play through trying to absorb everything) and there’s so much to unpack:

[Spoilers Ahead]

That recap just takes you back to everything.

It starts off practically a little ways after the Battle of Meridian, and right off the bat, you get an idea of what’s needed to be done and what’s at stake. No slow intros here.

I’m playing this on PS4 because there’s still a PS5 shortage over here and I’m not sure if the visuals and effects would be better with the latest console. It’s great still, but maybe it will be smoother (?) on PS5?

Oooh! I can open up old car trunks for supplies.

LOL. I forgot how to throw a rock and it ruined my attempt at stealth with the very first machine. Ugh.

Okay, Aloy is wearing the Shield Weaver armor but the description implies it ran out of power and was just retrofitted as a regular outfit. 😐

I mean, that thing got me through a lot of playthroughs on HZD. It was such a powerful armor.

Can’t there be a way to fix it?

Imagine losing the Shield Weaver, because its batteries died out.

I just really loved that armor.

Varl is more confident in this one. Sassy even.

Catching up on things while moving around is so convenient.

Aloy apparently lost most of her stuff between hzd and hfw and she just says it like she lost her pen or something.

I had to go through so much to get you your best gear, Aloy! All those Hunting Grounds! Farming mods off of Behemoths, Thunderjaws, and Stormbirds! And you lost them?!

THAT giant cobra (yes, that’s not its name, but face it- it’s a cobra) - THAT was the FIRST boss machine? I mean, not gonna lie, I panicked. I had like 2 weapons and two types of ammo, which I can barely craft.

Aloy just does not wait for Varl. Find your own way around, buddy. See you there.

Travis fucking Tate. I don’t know if I should be annoyed or impressed.

Both? Both is good.

When Varl suggested they head back to Meridian, I just lost it, like…

I seriously did not expect her to go back to HZD locations. This made me so happy.

The Spire location post-battle. Damn.

Oh, I can’t leave the Spire apparently. I wanted to see everyone again.

Oh, It’s Sylens- the real snake.

That quick moment where Aloy just takes a sec to breathe after talking to Sylens, steels herself and just focus on what’s needed to be done- that was just so well acted. From frustation to resignation to resolve in just a few seconds.

That welcome party- Avad sounds so different here. How long has it been?

Errr. Where is Talanah?

That Vanasha and Uthid banter. Is that a ship, I see?

Where. Is. Talanah?!

Went to talk to Avad - forget what I said, he’s still a dork.

No idea why Aloy has to play lone wolf all the time, leaving Varl like that.

And there she goes - and shit, that whole part was just the intro before the credits?!

[maimedmarshal]

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver

Kotallo had not exactly expected a warm welcome when Aloy suggested he travel with her through Carja territory on her way back to the Embrace. Even with the Sun-King sending his blessing ahead to allow the Marshal into the territory despite the dissolution of his embassy, the people looked at the Tenakth with open contempt.

Some even dared to spit at his feet despite the proximity he kept to Aloy. Apparently, it was worth risking the "Savior of Meridian"'s ire just to insult him. "Leave it, Aloy," he suggested when she argued with one such merchant. "It's not worth your attention."

"They have no right to treat you that way," she snarled, her hand fisted in the merchant's shirt.

"As much as I would enjoy watching you teach him a lesson with your fist in his face, it will not ease the tension here," he pointed out with quiet patience. Gently, he covered her fisted hand with his own and helped her lower it. "We should move on."

Aloy's shoulders relaxed after she'd shoved the merchant away with a grunt of disdain. "It's thanks to him that you were spared," she snapped at the man.

While nothing brought him greater pride than seeing Aloy put another in their place, he knew she would regret the time wasted in muddling through the mire of the aftermath. He settled his hand at the small of her back to encourage her on only to have her suddenly shove him aside at an angry battle cry.

"Aloy!" he shouted with alarm as she was shoved against him. The huntress blocked the path of the young woman who'd charged at him, but he didn't need to see to recognize Aloy's pained grunt. An attack in broad daylight right in the middle of the merchant's square was unexpected, and he twisted to pull her back behind him while others rushed to the Savior's aid. "Let me see," he demanded gruffly, already peeling one hand away from the wound she was trying to shield from his view.

"It's nothing," she grumbled at him. "Just a scratch."

"All the same, let me see," he grumped back, frustrated. Aloy had a habit of downplaying her injuries to save face. For once, she was right. The wound was little more than a thin scratch. Relieved, he released her hand. "Alright. We should leave."

They had barely made it out of the merchant's square proper before she stumbled against him. Immediately, he was on alert, hand steadying her shoulder and looking around for whatever had caused her to trip. Belatedly, he noticed the pallor of her skin, the sweat marring her brow.

"Somethin's wron'," she slurred, then dropped like a stone. Kotallo barely had time to slip his arm around her waist to catch her.

"Aloy!" Cries of alarm went up around them as others noted her ill state. She lolled in his grip, limp and unconscious. Shifting her, he looked back down at the wound on her side. Where only a thin scratch had been before, now black tendrils spread from the site.

Poison.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 8 - END

- Ao3 link -

“You’re not going to like what we’ve decided,” Lao Nie said.

Lan Qiren could have guessed that from the way that the other man had marched into the room and promptly used Lan Qiren’s thigh as a pillow, primarily, Lan Qiren suspected, because he didn’t want to have to look Lan Qiren in the face.

It was a common tactic of his these days. The Nie clan had always been inclined towards tactile behavior and a certain lack of personal boundaries – personal information was too much to share, but apparently bodies were free game – and Lao Nie had very quickly transitioned from embarrassment to taking advantage of his newfound dependency on regular physical contact with Lan Qiren. Much to Lan Qiren’s relief, they had managed, with some experimenting and considerable effort on all parts involved, for Lao Nie to form a bond directly with the jade pendant. Now, as long as he carried the pendant, he was able to be by himself for a shichen or so without experiencing any degradation in his mental state – and that, in turn, enabled them both to separate and allowed them both some measure of privacy.

Unfortunately, after that shichen was over, Lao Nie would begin to become irritable and irrational again, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot as the rage and resentful energy contained now wholly within him, rather than in the jade – in Jiwei, rather – began to need to be excised. Exercise and cultivation with a heavy training saber helped slow the effects, as did Lan Qiren’s musical efforts to calm and clear his mind, but Lao Nie’s cultivation was simply too high for it to last for very long. It was as if half his meridians had vanished overnight and yet he continued to cultivate as he did before; it was as if his dominant arm had been abruptly cut off, and yet he instinctively continued to try to do everything he previously could. He needed his saber to complete even a standard circulation of his qi, and short of suppressing his spiritual energy entirely (another experiment that met with some limited success, getting them another two shichen of time apart if they really needed it, but which was not a long-term solution given the unfortunate side effects), he had to have access to it.

Currently, that access was through Lan Qiren.

“If you’re warning me in advance, I’m quite certain that I won’t like it,” he said mildly, continuing to play uninterrupted. He wasn’t cultivating anything at the moment – the piece he was working on was actually a refinement of the music he’d inadvertently created in his grief at Cangse Sanren’s death, the one that had made his normally very stable nephews burst into tears, and he didn’t want to add spiritual energy to it until he’d worked out exactly how he wanted it to go. He reached an appropriate stopping place, noted down a few revisions to the score, and put his guqin aside. “You should tell me about it regardless.”

Lao Nie exhaled. “Well, good news first – the smiths have finally finished conferring and they’ve concluded that they believe it’s possible to try reforging Jiwei, so they’re willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said. He hadn’t really understood the spiritual weaponsmiths’ reluctance on the subject, but he respected their expertise as craftsmen, just as they respected his as a musician. “Once the saber has been remade, I can reestablish the resonance between them and, in theory, Jiwei should be able to use that pathway to return - and with greater ease, as she would be returning to her more familiar self.”

“Not that easy, unfortunately,” Lao Nie said regretfully. “Jiwei was shattered. To remake the blade, they will need to – for want of a better explanation – melt her down and start entirely afresh. It will be like having a wholly different saber, albeit with the same metal that she’s used to.”

Lan Qiren frowned.

“There, you see the issue. If it’s a new saber, the familiarity will be absent. We will need to work on reestablishing the resonance the way we did with the pendant, and that means –”

“Slowly.” Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. It had taken him years to establish that initial resonance, and knowing how it was done could only reduce the process by so much. “That is indeed a problem. I cannot stay here as long as that would take. In all truth, I am surprised that I have not already been summoned back by my sect…”

“Oh, you have,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “A-Jue burned the letters and told the messengers to fuck off.”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “He did what?!”

“Did we not say? You’ve officially been kidnapped! Well, no, really it’s more of a hostage exchange situation, since they have A-Sang with them…oh, don’t look so horrified, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, starting to laugh. “Your sect elders have indicated that no offense was taken, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?!” Lan Qiren spluttered a little. “You’re not serious! What circumstances could justify one sect kidnapping another sect’s sect leader, acting or otherwise?!”

Lao Nie stopped laughing, the sound cutting off as if he’d been choked. “Yes, well,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s the part you’re really not going to like.”

Lan Qiren determinedly prodded at Lao Nie’s shoulder until the other man, grumbling, sat up and took a proper seat so that they could have this discussion face-to-face. Their knees remained touching, which was good enough, and about all that the scoundrel deserved at the moment.

“Explain,” Lan Qiren ordered, and Lao Nie dipped his head into a nod.

“There are several relevant points,” he said crisply, dropping into the familiar pattern of a report. “First, Hanhan has clearly decided that he wants me dead –”

“Must you?” Lan Qiren interjected, even though he had not meant to interrupt.

“Oh, I must.” Lao Nie’s eyes were flinty. “He decided that if he couldn’t have me – and no one said he couldn’t, except his own paranoia – that if he couldn’t, no one could, and I’m not about to forgive him for that, don’t worry. But he’s still my Hanhan, my A-Han, underneath all his madness, and for my own sake, I’m not going to let anyone, whether him or me, forget it. No matter how necessary, some things have to hurt, and to their fullest extent...However, that’s not what’s relevant now. May I continue?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“He wants me dead,” Lao Nie said, resuming his narrative. “Now that he tried once, he may try again, and I currently lack the capability to defend myself – the doctors, and you, have all agreed that I should avoid any excessive use of qi, and fighting a battle with a saber that isn’t Jiwei is a recipe for disaster in the best of times. I can’t exactly swing the pendant around, can I? Moreover, it may take years for us to establish the resonance, re-transfer Jiwei, and for me to re-familiarize myself with the new saber.”

Lan Qiren did not like the way this was going.

“There’s also the matter that I can’t be without physical contact with you for extended periods of time, and you of course have your responsibility to your sect,” Lao Nie continued. “Kidnapping you is, at best, a temporary fix. We will need something more permanent, and your sect elders have already indicated that they won’t let you marry out until your nephews are grown – and obviously we can’t wait that long, even assuming you’d want to marry me.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

“Don’t say that you’d be willing to make the sacrifice to marry me, because even if you would, I wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact that you wouldn’t be happy leaving the Cloud Recesses and as much as I adore you, having been married before, I’m quite certain that I only want to marry my lovers, thank you.”

Lan Qiren had, in fact, been about to make an offer just like that, but he kept his mouth shut. They could discuss it at length at a later point.

“In short, the best solution to all of these problems, therefore, appears to be to allow events to play out as Hanhan would have wanted: for me to die.”

“You cannot be serious!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, abruptly furious. “After all the effort we put into saving your life, you would just throw it away?”

Lao Nie held up his hands. “Forgive me, I spoke unwisely – ‘do not take your words lightly’, right?”

Lan Qiren was usually very easily distracted by the mention of the Lan sect rules, but he resisted the temptation and glared.

“I didn’t mean I’d actually die,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Only that that would be the story we put out to the world. The process has already begun – that’s why your sect elders aren’t kicking up a fit about A-Jue being so rude to them about refusing to return you.”

“They think he’s in mourning,” Lan Qiren realized. “Whether actual, or merely preemptive.”

He could see how it might appear that way: Nie Mingjue showing up late in the evening, depositing a shaken and terrified Nie Huaisang, using up all the medical supplies in Lan Qiren’s personal possession, and then asking Lan Qiren to return home with him…

Due to Lan Qiren’s friendship with Lao Nie, Nie Mingjue had grown up especially close to the Lan sect; Lan Qiren had been his teacher, and in the end he was only fifteen, even if most people didn’t know that. Even in a world where Lao Nie could not have been saved, he might have refused to let Lan Qiren go home so quickly, seeking comfort from the sole familial authority, however informally constituted, that he had remaining.

“But Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “If you are supposedly dead, then Mingjue will need to become sect leader.”

Lao Nie grimaced, but nodded.

He’d been right about one thing, at least: Lan Qiren did not like what the Nie sect had decided.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“You know what that will do to him,” he said. He himself knew it better than anyone.

“I do,” Lao Nie confirmed, looking pained. “But it’s the best out of a short list of very bad options. If I stay on as sect leader in my current state, someone will kill me – probably Hanhan, but maybe someone else, one of the many small sects that have ambitions of taking the Nie sect’s place – and if that happens, A-Jue will have to become sect leader in truth, without my support. At least this way, I can act as an advisor, aid him with paperwork…that sort of thing.”

As much as Lan Qiren would have liked to argue, he didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.

Lao Nie’s position within the Nie sect was as secure as anything, and the Nie sect’s position as a Great Sect was nearly as unshakable, but there were always smaller sects looking to see whether that could change. If he were known to be so critically weakened...Wen Ruohan might not even need to kill him personally. He’d just need to wait.

And the rest was true, too. There were many things Lao Nie could do from a distance - his month at the Lan sect had shown that much - and having someone reliable to turn to for advice and hard choices was the ideal sort of transition for a new sect leader.

Still, the sect conferences alone would be horrifying, and those Lao Nie would not be able to aid Nie Mingjue with, even if he could help with all the rest.

He hated it.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Moreover, without the bulk of the responsibilities of sect leader on my shoulders, I’ll have more opportunity to focus on healing.”

That was true as well. Lao Nie had been hurt very deeply by Jiwei’s destruction. His cultivation had fallen, his usual cultivation pathway denied to him, his trust in his own mental well-being betrayed…in an ideal world, Lan Qiren would recommend seclusion for a few months, maybe even a year, for him to focus on reestablishing his connection with himself, re-centering his foundation so that he could climb up once more. But for a sect leader, that was impossible.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, although he made sure by his tone to make clear how much he disapproved. “I understand the basis for your decision.”

“I thought you might.”

“There’s only one flaw I see with your plan.”

“Oh?”

Lan Qiren folded his hands together in front of him. “You still need me, don’t you? Even with the excuse of mourning, Nie Mingjue can only request my presence for so long before the demands of my sect become paramount over their respect for his filial piety and grief.”

“Oh, we’ll let you go back eventually,” Lao Nie said with a shrug. “And I’d go with you.”

Lan Qiren had been expecting that. “And how exactly do you intend to keep the story of your death intact if you’re living with me at the Cloud Recesses? Even if we increase your tolerance such that you can stay home at all times, my home is often visited by my students, including those from other sects – and while there may be a rule against talking behind people’s backs, it is one of the most commonly broken.”

Lao Nie winced in a way that suggested both that he had thought of an answer to that question and also that Lan Qiren was going to hate it.

“Whatever you say, I cannot dislike it more than A-Jue becoming sect leader at fifteen,” Lan Qiren pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Lao Nie said. “Given that to this day you despise the smell of gentians.”

Lan Qiren’s brain came to an abrupt halt.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Qiren…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good solution,” Lao Nie argued. “No one in your sect goes to that house – most of them don’t even know it exists! It’s within a short walking distance of your home, protected by arrays to enhance silence and protect privacy…”

“I am not locking you in He Kexin’s place!” Lan Qiren bellowed.

“You wouldn’t be locking me anywhere,” Lao Nie said, for once the reasonable and calm one in the face of Lan Qiren’s fury. “I would be going willingly, and I would be free to leave at any time. You’re not your brother, Qiren, and I’m not He Kexin – not least of which because I’m neither capable of nor interested in bearing two sons for you as a means of passing the time.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “A bit of a pity, that. I’m sure they’d be cute.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at him, although the reassurance and humor had helped douse the worst of his terror at the mere idea. Irritatingly, it was a good solution: he had made the trek to He Kexin’s home hundreds of times and no one had ever raised any questions. In the unlikely event that they did so now, he could claim he was merely tending to the garden to maintain it for his nephews; more likely, however, they would simply not notice – the path between the two locations was short and purposefully discrete.

“You’ll need someone to clean the place,” he pointed out. “Even He Kexin had servants, and if you don’t want anyone from the Lan sect finding out about it…”

“I have some servants that are loyal to me personally, and which are not Nie sect disciples,” Lao Nie said. “They can seek employment at the Cloud Recesses on the basis that they didn’t want to remain here after I’d gone – literally true, if you think about it in a certain light. Your sect would snatch them up in a heartbeat.”

They would, too, even without Lan Qiren interfering: properly trained servants who knew how to serve cultivators were a precious commodity that often had to be raised up from a young age or recruited with great caution from the ranks of rogue cultivators, and ones with the skills and experience that came from serving at another Great Sect were even more valued than most. And once they were part of the Cloud Recesses, there would be no difficulty in Lan Qiren adding the task of caring for He Kexin’s house to their list of duties.

“It’s a good plan,” he finally conceded, and Lao Nie sniggered.

“You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon, Qiren. Did it hurt to say?”

“It hurt to think,” he retorted, and turned back to his guqin. “Will you visit my brother while you’re there? He might enjoy hearing your voice and knowing that you are close.”

Lao Nie had always refused in the past, and he shook his head now. “Not all of us are as forgiving as you, Qiren. Qingheng-jun made his choices.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He makes them again every day,” Lao Nie disagreed. “He may have declared that he would stay in seclusion for the rest of his life to make amends, but that was his decision. He could break his oath and come out, do the right thing, but he doesn’t want to.”

It was an old argument, and an unproductive one. Lan Qiren shook his head, signaling that he would no longer engage.

He had other things to be concerned with, and would for some time. There was helping with Lao Nie’s recovery, creating the new resonance, playing calming music for him, keeping his secret; he would also need to help support Nie Mingjue as much as possible during his transition to sect leader, whether through correspondence and advice or through active intervention during the discussion conferences. He would need to manage his nephews, who he had taught so carefully not to lie, and yet they would need to learn to keep this secret, too.

Taking care of Lao Nie would also be an additional set of duties, on top of being sect leader and being a teacher and being himself, but Lan Qiren didn’t mind it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, actually, now that he thought of it without prejudice. To have someone close by to take tea with in the afternoons when his nephews were too busy and it wasn’t the right time of year for students, someone with whom he could speak on any range of subjects, including his occasional frustrations with his sect, stories about his students, the political troubles of the day – a friend close by, rather than at a distance. Someone who would probably encourage him to take more exercise than he usually did, to try things outside of his comfort zone, someone who would listen to his ideas on music or the rules without judgment, someone who would share his burdens and support him…it would be a little like having a wife, but without all the inconvenient aspects that he so thoroughly disliked.

“It’s not too bad, as such things go,” Lao Nie said, his thoughts clearly moving along a similar line as Lan Qiren’s. “Whatever the world thinks, I’ll be the first Nie sect leader to live to enjoy a retirement, however premature.”

This was true.

“I’ll miss my boys, of course,” Lao Nie added. “But I’ll write, and you can invite A-Sang to your lectures when he’s old enough. A-Jue can come visit you, sect leader to sect leader…I wouldn’t be the first father to only see his children a few times a year.”

“Nie Huaisang will probably fail my classes,” Lan Qiren said, having been acquainted with the individual in question for some time now. A clever child, even very clever, but he was also lazy, hated reciting facts, and was as stubborn as a rock – as stubborn as his father. “You’ll probably have the joy of him for several summers in a row.”

Lao Nie smiled.  

“Well, I can’t say this was what I expected when I wrote to you for help all those years ago,” he joked, leaning down and playing with the jade token that now hung from his belt rather than Lan Qiren’s. Wen Ruohan would probably have a fit if he ever saw it – indeed, Lan Qiren was already looking forward to that day in the future, however distant, where Lao Nie would regain his saber and his former strength and re-emerge to make his feelings on the subject of Wen Ruohan’s actions clear. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“As am I, my friend,” Lan Qiren said. “As am I.”

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Pocketful of Starlight

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain, Master Fu/Marianne Lenoir

Characters: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Tikki, Wayzz, Pollen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug's Parents, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Master Fu, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim, Luka Couffaine, Anarka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Marianne Lenoir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Caline Bustier, Kagami Tsurugi, André Glacier

Tags: Mental Health Issues, Anxiety, Therapy, Trauma, Regret, Lila Rossi salt, what the fuck am i doing?, Moving On, Angst, Feels, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Guilt, Grief, Loss, Implied Relationships, Heroes & Heroines, Introspection

Summary: In the wake of the defeat of Miracle Queen, Marinette has to take time for everyone else. But eventually she has to take time for herself. Written before the release of Felix and Chat Blanc.

Note: The therapy technique is real, and is one I’ve been introduced to as a way of dealing with trauma, triggers, and anxiety. It just seemed like something Fu would teach Marinette, as it relies on the idea of the body’s meridian points, which are used in Chinese medicine.

AO3 link

This is part 2 of the Catch a Falling Star series | Part 1

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Marinette didn’t have the luxury of dealing with her feelings right away after Chloé stormed off following the defeat of Miracle Queen. As the new Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a long list of things she must accomplish before then.

On the top of that list was the former Master Fu, who now knew himself as M. Chen. The only person Miraculous Cure didn’t send away was Chat, and so she had him recharge to keep an eye on their former master, while she stowed the Miracle Box in her room and went to the locker with a distraught Wayzz.

Unsurprisingly, the note had all the information she needed: contact information for his beloved Marianne and the address where she could find his belongings. The locker also had items meant to pass to her, including a flash drive of information on the book and other things she would need to know as Guardian. He had been thorough.

Marianne seemed both sad and glad to hear the news—Fu had apparently told her long before that this would be his fate in the end. She agreed to be on the next train to fetch him.

She was relieved Chat knew Marinette had been Multimouse, so when she showed up with a fake ‘note from Ladybug,’ he’d passed responsibility to her civilian self with a smile, telling her he knew Fu would be in good hands.

Marinette ignored the buzzing of her phone as texts came in, and focused on getting M. Chen to his belongings and packed, then over to the train station. Even there, watching the train slowly shrink into the distance as Master Fu was taken to safety, she still didn’t have time.

No, she had text messages from Alya, who was distraught over the memories of what she had been forced to do under the control of Miracle Queen, and was rightly convinced that, with her identity blown, she’d no longer be able to take up the mantle of Rena Rouge. She was able to feign surprise and complimented her on being such a good hero. Her sympathy hasn’t been feigned.

In truth, it felt good to have Alya come to her instead of Lila, who she’d seemed to lose trust in after the expulsion. Things weren’t completely mended between them, and might never be. But she could be a shoulder for Alya to cry on, a sympathetic ear.

Then she had her responsibilities to the kwamis to keep her engaged, something she had put above school. To accomplish this, she had finally confessed her recent near-Akumazations to her parents and told them everything about Lila’s lies and manipulations, and that as there was no proof there was little she could do about them. She told them of going and learning meditative techniques and coping mechanisms on her own. Finally, telling them that the Miracle Queen Akuma, which had hit her friend circle quite hard, had caused her a lot of stress. Marinette had requested, quietly, that she be permitted to take a few mental health days. None of it was a lie.

She wished she had confided in them about it before; they had immediately swept her into a family hug and thanked her for her honesty and trust in them.

“So many people your age bottle it all up,” Maman had said. “But you recognized it and looked for solutions. I’m proud of you, my dear. You’ve become such a mature young woman.”

There had been tears in Papa’s eyes. “We’ll let M. Damocles know we’re keeping you home a few days. Perhaps they will be more willing to investigate this girl if it’s having such an impact on you.”

They’d even asked if she wanted to see a therapist, if she needed more help. She’d thanked them and declined, and their love strengthened her for the tasks she had to complete. Marinette could hardly believe she had been nervous to tell them what was going on. Her parents, who had always supported her.

Her first task involved building a puzzle box large enough to hold the Miracle Box, disguised as a small table for beside her bedroom chaise. That had taken the better part of a day, once she had it sketched and bought the materials. She had treated it as art therapy, even making a home-made wood stain with all natural ingredients to turn the table a deep rose color.

Marinette had time during this project to get to know each of the kwamis individually, taking notes on food preferences in the cases she didn’t know so she could be sure to have some on hand—when enlisting temporary heroes in the future, she planned to include some of the kwami’s preferred recharging food with the miraculous. There had been times recharges were needed but difficult in the heat of battle, and that would make it smoother. Thankfully, dried foods were acceptable to them in a pinch.

While building the puzzle box table she’d sewn the Miracle Box into a throw pillow temporarily, which wound up being a good thing when Chat stopped by midway through the project to ask about Master Fu’s journey. She’d received a call from Marianne when they arrived at their destination, but that was as Ladybug. So she instead let him know what Marinette knew—that he’d been safely escorted to the train, and she’d watched him leave.

When he asked how she had avoided being stung and controlled, she told him she’d seen the wasps and locked herself in the bakery freezer, and Ladybug had let her out when she’d come to enlist her help.

“I was lucky,” she told him.

“I’m glad you stayed safe, Princess. I heard you’ve been absent from school, so I worried.”

“I’m taking a few mental health days, that’s all. Thank you for checking in on me, kitty.”

They chatted a bit more before she went downstairs for leftover pastries for him to enjoy on the rest of patrol, sending him off with the bag of goodies.

Chat had been stopping by regularly since the night she’d cried in his arms, and she had to admit it was nice to have a friendship with him as herself. He’d recently insisted they take a selfie together for her wall, and it had joined a few including Kagami and Luka, as well as some of Alya and Nino that she had put back up.

And then, of course, there was Wayzz. The poor kwami had just lost a holder of over a century, and his loneliness was palpable. Marinette had worked to comfort him as best she could. She knew she could only do so much, but she had put together a comfortable little nest for him and wore the Turtle miraculous along with the Ladybug so he could be out for the transition.

After everything was done, all of her responsibilities, she was finally able to let herself fully deal with everything that had happened, in such quick succession, and all that had changed and been lost.

She finished restuffing and sewing shut the pillow that had once housed the Miracle Box, then laid it out in the middle of her bedroom, seating herself in the relaxed pseudo-lotus position Master Fu had taught her, paying attention to her breathing, heartbeat, the feel of the pillow beneath her, the air around her.

Part of the training she had done with him had included dealing with emotions via meditation, a safer way that would help her avoid Akumazation. Lila’s actions had made it clear she needed help, so after the night Chat had comforted her on the roof, she had confided in the now-former Guardian about the stressors in her life. He had immediately insisted she learn this technique. While it wasn’t always helpful in the moment, if surprises shook her, she had found it was great for helping her process her feelings later so they wouldn’t build up and bury her.

It also helped that both Tikki and Wayzz were there to let her know if she was in danger—and she had shut her room up to impede Akuma for an added sense of security.

The memory of her first meditative session was bittersweet now, as she remembered Master Fu helping her find her happy place, a moment in time wherein she was content and safe on her own. For her, it was the memory of diving off the Eiffel Tower as Ladybug, plummeting by choice with the wind in her face, then snapping the yoyo to swing just above the ground, the experience one of exhilaration and pure happiness.

She went there first, letting herself be in that moment, with the self-confidence it gave her, before going back to one of the things she needed to process.

One of… Really, Fu represented multiple things she had to process. His confidence that she was ready wasn’t one Marinette shared. The number of mistakes she had made, particularly the ones that had led to the loss of Master Fu, haunted her.

She focused again on her breathing, her senses, before tackling the mistakes. Upon discovering Mayura following her, she had failed to consider whether Hawkmoth was also in play, assuming that losing the stolen Peacock holder had been enough. She had approached Master Fu as Ladybug, continuing even after he hinted that she’d made a mistake; perhaps she could have played it off and returned as Marinette.

Marinette let herself feel the shame and guilt associated with that, the feeling of inadequacy and impostor syndrome that plagued her so often.

The next ritual had been ingrained in her over the past few months.

“Even though I made a mistake, I deeply and completely accept myself. Even though I fear I will continue to make mistakes, I deeply and completely accept myself.”

She softly repeated the mantra, going through the emotional freedom tapping sequence she had learned as she allowed herself to feel the emotions swirling through her, seeking the root.

Fear. The root was fear.

“Even though I’m afraid my mistakes will hurt people…”

She continued the process, gently tapping the points Master Fu had led her through until the emotions started to ease, appropriately processed as the result of the trauma that had occurred.

“Even though I know I will make more mistakes…”

She worked toward acceptance of the inevitable. Tikki and Fu had told her mistakes were inevitable; she was only human, and humans weren’t perfect. The important thing, Fu told her, was learning from mistakes through processing them.

“You and Chat Noir fixed my biggest mistake, Marinette. The one that haunted me for well over a century. I learned much from my mistake, as you will with yours.”

Marinette assessed the emotion; it wasn’t totally gone, but it was at a manageable level, something that she could keep from overwhelming her.

The reality was, Master Fu had talked with her about retiring. He had known this would happen to him, that his memories of the Miraculous and his time as Guardian would disappear. He had trusted Marinette as Ladybug to be the next Guardian, to take over the job he had started at such a young age nearly two centuries ago, the job he had been forced into by his own mistake that had only recently been rectified.

Additionally, Hawkmoth could have seen through an attempt to play it off, and with him following her without her knowledge, Marinette’s detransformation could have left her identity known to the enemy, putting her and everyone she loved in grave danger. Perhaps it had been the luck Ladybug was known for, saving her in a situation wherein only one of them could be saved, in effect ensuring the Miracle Box would continue to be protected beyond Fu.

On an intellectual level, Marinette was struck by a collège memory of Mme. Bustier teaching them the hero’s journey style of story building and literary analysis. As much as she loathed the idea of following some sort of fated narrative arc, in class they had discussed how this occasionally translated to the real world. The mentor figure, often a wise elder, would disappear when it was time for the hero to continue alone, when nothing more could be taught.

“Even though I fear I don’t control my own destiny…”

This fear was distinctly of the future. Instead of tapping the meridian points, she shifted to applying a gentle, sustained pressure against each to ease the anxiety that wrapped around her like a cold fog, repeating her mantra until it dissipated in the warmth of hope.

She let herself return to the exhilaration of purposeful freefall from the Tower for a bit, letting that strengthen her as she turned to the related issue…

Fu had not told her she would lose her memories of the Miraculous when it became her turn to retire, that these wonderful memories, even the one that served as her anchor, would be swept away like a sandcastle at high tide. She would forget Chat Noir, forget all the conversations she’d had and would continue up to that point to have with Tikki, forget the very thing that had given her the self-confidence to stand up to Chloé and ultimately put herself out into the world that had once terrified her more fully, to take risks…

Oh, she would miss Tikki when it came time… or maybe she wouldn’t. And that was almost more terrifying.

“Even though I’m afraid of eventually losing my memories…”

The way she had become Multimouse upon losing Tikki to Kwamibuster—the way she had overcome that. Yes, it was another Miraculous that had allowed her to overcome, but she had figured it out.

“Even though I’m afraid I’ll be lost without these memories…”

After a while, three or four rounds of processing and evaluating, the fear had eased enough for her to move on.

She could feel the tears on her cheeks; that had been scary the first few times with Fu, when she’d been afraid the tears would bring Hawkmoth to her, but he had assured her it was part of the process, that it was natural when she allowed herself to experience the emotions fully. She could do this in safety if she used her anchor.

Marinette returned to her anchor memory, allowing herself to swim toward the surface of the meditative state enough to ask Tikki if there was any danger.

“I haven’t sensed an Akuma, Marinette. You can keep going, unless you need a break?”

That brought a smile to her face, and a surge of affection for her empathetic kwami. She knew the memories would be taken, but the emotions wouldn’t leave. She had seen that first-hand when M. Chen had seen Marianne and the memory of loving her had emerged so strongly that he’d stumbled.

“Wayzz?” Marinette couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Yes, Master?”

“Just Marinette, please.” She knew the kwami chafed a bit at the informality, but she would treat them as her equals, not anything less.

“Ah… of course, Marinette. Did you have a question?”

“You hid behind me when Fu came to, after he named me Guardian. Would he have remembered if he had seen you?”

Wayzz is silent for a bit, and she can almost hear him thinking. “It’s possible. Regardless, he asked me to let him forget, to let him retire fully. At the Temple, the retired would reside among the uninitiated, as tradition.”

Marinette nodded. That made sense, and she would keep it in mind as a possible way to overcome if she wanted to at that point in her life. She had a lifetime to decide.

“Thank you, Wayzz.”

She let herself ease back into full meditation, to her anchor memory, the unbridled joy.

Three other points of emotional turmoil needed resolving. Two of them were highly related, which drew her to them. The fallout from Chloé’s voluntary stint as Miracle Queen was twofold: first, it had robbed Ladybug of all her temporary heroes, as all were now known to Hawkmoth and Mayura. She refused to put them and their families and friends in danger by continuing to approach them; nor would she put the kwami in a position to potentially be captured by a psychopath.

Even with her decision, she wasn’t sure that Hawkmoth wouldn’t monitor them anyway, or do worse. There was the potential of hostage situations. Marinette just hoped this was just her castastrophizing and not something that would happen. She did, however, need to be prepared if it did, and that would mean sharing that concern with Chat Noir. Hopefully he would be able to watch over some of them outside the mask, just as she would.

“Even though I fear the temporary holders could be in danger…”

Alya and Nino, two people she loved dearly despite their flaws, just as they did her; she had meditated extensively on their friendships with Fu after her near-Akumazation during Lila’s stunt at school that had left her temporarily expelled.

Kim, who she knew only casually, but whose exuberance was a mirror of Xuppu’s, a kwami he was suited for but would never hold again.

Max, a boy who had built his own best friend and formed new relationships alongside Markov, and who had fought so nobly to save his mother and friends.

Luka, who could hear the music of her heart and had told her it was beautiful, who had wielded the Snake like a pro. His family—Anarka, Juleka, and Rose, who was basically his sister in law—would be in danger.

And her newest friend, Kagami, for whom she had ultimately given up Adrien—who would also be in danger—and who seemed destined to hold the Dragon, though that was beyond reach now.

The only remedy was impossible in the war Hawkmoth had started: to never again give out Miraculous and cultivate allies. Ultimately, recalcitrance in that direction could hand the man holding Paris hostage victory.

Her allies would have to change. Marinette would need to visit each of them personally as Ladybug to thank them for their service and officially retire them. She couldn’t predict what Hawkmoth might do with the knowledge of their identities, but she could be proactive. They would get the contact information for her yoyo… or perhaps she could commission Max to create panic buttons with GPS, something for the six of them to carry at all times for security, which could alert herself and Chat if they were triggered.

Master Fu had been delighted upon learning that processing her emotions in this way led to reasoned planning.

“Your creativity is ingrained in you, Marinette. You truly are the perfect Ladybug. And you will be the ideal Guardian, as well.”

She returned to her anchor, lingering there a bit longer than before. The last two would be more difficult.

Chloé. Queen Bee. Miracle Queen.

Marinette had held onto the hope that she could help Chloé, both as herself and Ladybug. She could see there was good in the blonde, just buried under behaviors she’d learned and adopted to survive the trauma of abandonment.

She hadn’t seen it—not for the longest time, and certainly not when Chloé had been bullying her.

No, it had come later, in moments. Seeing Chloé grieve giving up Pollen each time she had to return the Bee Miraculous; seeing the flash of pure hurt that had quickly been covered with rage at Audrey choosing Marinette, a stranger, to be with her rather than her own daughter. Moments of joy or simple contentment.

Chloé was a scarred soul who had armored her vulnerability with cruel words and a pretense of superiority. Anything that threatened that superiority, however false it was, became a target, her fear and trauma allowing no less.

But she’d had potential to be better, Marinette had thought. Unlike Lila, whose very countenance showed no indication of anything but cruelty, Chloé could be rehabilitated.

For a while it seemed it could work—Chloé working for the greater good. But it wasn’t enough for her; she’d wanted more, on her timetable.

Or perhaps Marinette had mistaken a lust for power and prestige for a desire for connection to something greater. Maybe it had been her own hubris, feeling she could reach someone so damaged.

Oh, she had hoped. She could just imagine the force for good Chloé could become, if only she could be reached, could be healed.

Marinette wished it were otherwise, but Pollen had tearfully told her of the order of silence, how the holder Pollen had shared her hopes for had turned abusive, had turned a partnership into a slavery.

“Even though I failed to help Chloé…”

This set took longer, more repetition, more tapping, and it felt as though her breath was being sucked away as she processed the grief she felt at a possible future destroyed.

She could only carry so much; those she helped had to want it, had to try, had to trust. She knew how hard that was for Chloé, but she also knew her own limits, the things she could not do. Perhaps, with professional help, the girl could be reached. Marinette didn’t have those tools.

It wasn’t entirely Chloé’s fault, either. Her fears and insecurities and traumas had made her susceptible to the machinations of Hawkmoth’s evil. A man who would Akumatized a toddler would have no qualms tearing open a teenager’s scars and manipulating them for his own personal gain. He’d long ago proved his depravity.

Even now, she didn’t hate Chloé.

Marinette hadn’t paid attention to the news since sending off M. Chen, so she didn’t know what the Paris authorities intended to do regarding the Miracle Queen debacle. But perhaps she could help Chloé Bourgeois in one last way, as Ladybug. She could request not leniency but access to mental health care, could testify that she knew Chloé has potential, if only given the tools to heal.

The pain had faded to an acceptable level, and she jumped off the Eiffel Tower again, sweeping toward the ground with the wind and gravity in her face, the sun kissing her cheeks.

Her last task: Adrien.

She had loved him so intensely and so long, the boy Alya had nicknamed Sunshine. He had been her sun, and she’d been the moth drawn to him. Marinette had spent the last several weeks reflecting on her obsession with him, recognizing it finally for what it was. She had acted only marginally different with him than Chat Noir did with Ladybug.

She had resolved to let him go, after Chat’s visit, for good. She’d been headed there anyway, taking the pictures down and drawing away. Chat’s visit had helped her find the strength.

And then something had shifted. When she was able to return to school, Adrien had apologized for failing to see Lila had targeted her, was hurting her, until it was too late.

“I know doesn’t excuse abandoning you, Marinette, but I hope I can make it up to you.”

What had once been the fire of obsession, doused to coals, smoldered still, a slow warmth that didn’t threaten to consume her anymore.

A few days later, Adrien loudly told Lila to stop touching him, that it made him uncomfortable, in front of Mme. Bustier.

Lila turned on the waterworks, trying to claim it was a way of showing affection in Italy, and Adrien hadn’t given an inch.

“Here in France, it’s sexual harassment,” he’d said. “And I’m tired of asking you to stop.”

“Are you okay, Adrien?” Marinette had asked after Lila stomped back to her seat. “I know it’s not always easy to stand up for yourself.”

“I’m okay.” His smile had warmed her heart, and he’d stepped forward to embrace her. “Thanks for asking, Marinette.”

Then Lila had snarkily asked Mme. Bustier why Marinette wasn’t getting in trouble for sexual harassment. The continued tantrum had earned her detention, during which she was to complete a sexual harassment seminar, “since you clearly don’t know what it is.”

It had been glorious.

The memory brought a smile to her face. She had thought then that perhaps it wasn’t over after all.

But when it came to choosing which flavor combination she, Kagami, and Adrien should get from André, the two of them looking at her so trustingly after having included her in their antics at the hotel and subsequent escape…

Marinette had let go of her love for Adrien.

She had chosen friendship.

She had chosen Kagami’s happiness, and let go the embers in her heart.

They still glowed there, but she made the decision to let them fade.

“Even though I’ve lost my first love…”

She was surprised to discover that the pain she expected to find was only a dull ache, not the intense loss she had expected. As though letting go and crying it out with Chat had allowed her to process the worst of it with the help of a friend.

Music moved through her, a tune she knew she’d heard just recently, but couldn’t place.

Marinette halfway done with the first round of meditative tapping when she felt the touch on the back of her neck. The warning signal she and Tikki had decided upon.

She pulled on her anchor, diving into the sunlight and wind and letting the joy and confidence overtake her, then opened her eyes.

The Akuma had come through the vent, and was gently fluttering, hovering as though waiting for her negativity to return. Hawkmoth had been strangely inactive in the days following Miracle Queen’s defeat.

Marinette let the joy of being Ladybug flow through her, and smiled at the butterfly. Even though she’d only been sitting for perhaps an hour or two, she felt as though she had aged a decade. But she was Ladybug, and Ladybug would prevail.

“I will not be your marionette, Hawkmoth. You will not prey on my traumas to soothe your own.” She stood, moving toward the trapdoor that led to the roof, calm and poised. “Perhaps you should try therapy instead of sadism.”

After opening it, she turned back. She had no idea if Hawkmoth could hear or see her through the Akuma. It hovered, as though staring at her.

“You are not welcome here, little butterfly. Come back when you’re not evil.”

After a pause, the Akuma fluttered up and out of the sunroof, into the blue sky.

“I hope you don’t victimize someone else,” she called after it, and then shut the trapdoor decisively.

Tikki and Wayzz zoomed around her, taking their places on her shoulders as she unmuted her phone, waiting for an Akuma alert.

[aquadrazi]

Find Someone to Carry You

Chapter 34

…….Yi City…….

“He’s attacking using resentful energy.”

“We need to stop this”

“No wait!”

“What is that smoke he just blew?”

“Do you see black veins?”

“Corpse poisoning powder?”

“Did he just cut out that guy’s tongue?”

“We need to stop this NOW”

The Juniors launched onto the scene, taking Xue Yang by surprise.  Lan Liliang and Lan Caifu went straight to the bleeding cultivator on his knees, they slapped one of the hybrid teleportation talismans on him and teleported him back to the ridge that Mo Xuanyu and Ouyang Zizhen were posted on.

“Have anything for corpse poisoning?” Ouyang Zizhen asked, assessing the bleeding man quickly.

“Give me a second.”  Mo Xuanyu said and he started scribbling on his talisman paper.

Back in the fight, the Juniors were quickly being overwhelmed because a second cultivator had joined, this one was blind.

Sizhui dodged the blade from the blind cultivator with the help of one of Jihui’s thrown fans, and he spun away from he battle as he shot the signal into the air for help.

Jihui spun in close to the blind cultivator and caught his sword in his fan.  He read the inscription.  “Frostwork?”

“That’s Master Xiao Xingchen’s sword.”

The blind cultivator paused for a brief moment upon hearing his name, which gave the Juniors around him the opportunity to pin a stun talisman on him.

“Please Master Xiao, we are Senior Lan’s Juniors.”

“We aren’t here to fight.”

“We were just trying to stop this man from killing another cultivator.”

“Frostwork sensed a fierce corpse, so I came to help.”  Xiao Xingchen explained, sounding confused.

“Don’t listen to them, these kids are confused.  It WAS a fierce corpse.”  Xue Yang yelled, still engaged with his own set of Juniors.

“He’s lying.”

“He was using resentful energy to fight another cultivator”

“He blew corpse poisoning powder at that cultivator, then cut out his tongue”

“They’re LYING!”  Xue Yang screeched.

“Master Xiao, my name is Lan Sizhui, my father is Lan Wangji, and my uncle is Sect Leader Lan.  I can assure you, we are not lying to you.”  Sizhui bowed, even though Xiao Xingchen couldn’t see it.

“Xue Yang”  Lan Zhan growled as he and Wei Ying landed on Bichen.  He quickly jumped into the fight with Xue Yang, as Wei Ying rushed over to the group of Juniors around Xiao Xingchen.

“Xue Yang?”  Xiao Xingchen asked confused.

“Yep, that bastard is over there currently getting his butt kicked by the Honorable Hanguang-Jun.”  Wei Ying explained.  “What happened to your eyes?”

Xiao Xingchen turned his head towards Wei Ying.  “Have we…met before?”

“No!  Of course not.  At least I don’t think so…I’m nobody, really.” Wei Ying said quickly, and very unconvincingly.

“Master Xiao, this is Senior Fu.  He’s been traveling with Senior Lan.” Sizhui explained, putting some emphasis on the name Fu.

“Senior Fu, we need some help on the ridge.  Corpse Poisoning.”  Ouyang Zizhen yelled.

“On it!”  Wei Ying used a talisman, and not JUST because it was faster.

“I know this all must be very confusing, but I’m sure if you give it a minute, Senior Lan will have gotten Xue Yang under control, then we can sit down and figure out what’s going on.”  Sizhui said gently.

“Excuse me.” A quiet voice said from behind a cart of hay.  “But I can help you with what is going on.”

“A-Qing”  Xiao Xingchen called for her.

“He’s been blowing corpse poisoning powder on people and cutting out their tongues and getting you to kill them.” A-Qing said quickly.  “That cultivator confronted him, and they started fighting.  Apparently you used to know him.”

“Song Lan?” Xiao Xiangchen breathed out.

“Sizhui, we need your spiritual energy up here.  My baby core isn’t cutting it.”  Wei Ying called down.

Sizhui mounted his sword and flew up to the ridge.

Three of the Juniors took up defensive positions around Master Xiao and A-Qing, while the rest went to assist in the battle with Xue Yang.  It was a dizzying scene of spinning robes, flashing swords, tendrils of resentful energy, and flying talismans.

Up on the ridge, Wei Ying was assisting Mo Xuanyu with drawing out the resentful energy threatening to take over Song Lan and turn him into a fierce corpse, while Sizhui was flushing his meridians with his own spiritual energy.  Ouyang Zizhen had managed to stop the bleeding from Song Lan’s mouth and was cradling his head while the others worked.

“You’re going to be okay Master Song.  They are very good at what they do.”  Zizhen tried to comfort the cultivator.

“We are only managing to keep this at bay.  He needs glutenous rice.”  Wei Ying said to Zizhen.

The Junior nodded and mounted his sword to go down into town.  He landed in front of the group of Juniors with Master Xiao.  “Senior Fu says we need glutenous rice to save Master Song.”

“I can get you some.”  A-Qing offered quickly, and ran off towards where she had been living with Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang.

Senior Lan and the rest of the Juniors returned, with Xue Yang in custody.  His arm had been severed at the shoulder.   They forced him to his knees and surrounded him.  He started laughing.

“You think you’ve won?  Do you have any idea how many people you’ve killed Master Xiao?”  Xue Yang mocked.  “Of course they all deserved it.  They were making fun of you for being blind.  Taking advantage of you.  But you killed them all the same.  Turns out you’re just as evil as me.”

“No.  I was tricked, by you actually.  That makes you the evil one in this situation.”  Master Xiao responded calmly.

Xue Yang laughed again.  “I’m not evil, I was just bored. I was here guarding the corpse. Then Xiao Xingchen showed up, and I decided to have a little fun.  And speaking of fun…”

The group from the ridge had just arrived, gently placing Song Lan down next to Xiao Xingchen, who took over passing him spiritual energy.

“I see the great Hanguang-Jun has taken in two of my former pets.”  Xue Yang mocked.

Wei Ying froze stiff and Mo Xuanyu let out a long whine and began to shake.

Before anyone could ask any clarifying questions, a cultivator wearing a ghost mask teleported in, reached into Xue Yang’s robes, pulled out the Yin Iron shard, then teleported back out before anyone could stop him.

A-Qing returned with a steaming bowl and knelt next to Song Lan, and began feeding him the glutenous rice.

Xue Yang laughed again.  “How’s it been going little master Mo?  Do you miss the feeling of my cock splitting your ass open?”

Lan Jihui shoved one of his fans under Xue Yang’s chin and pressed up, drawing a trickle of blood.  Lan Caifu crouched down next to Mo Xuanyu and pulled him into a protective hug.  Lan Zhan placed a hand on Jihui’s shoulder and stared into Xue Yang’s eyes, like a predator.

“Ah, Hanguang-Jun, somehow I doubt you’ve been up to the task of making my little pets squeal in JUST the right way.  I bet they miss me.  They used to beg me you know…especially Wei-“  Lan Zhan hit Xue Yang with the silencing spell.  Nobody needed to hear anything more out of him.

Lan Zhan was about to order everyone back to Cloud Recesses, when Nie Huaisang and two of his spies descended on swords.

“Ah, I see our paths have converged yet again, Lan Wangji.”  Nie Huaisang bowed.

Lan Zhan returned the bow.  “Lan Jihui, Lan Liliang, please accompany Sect Leader Nie’s men in escorting the prisoner back to Qinghe.”  He exchanged a knowing look with Nie Huaisang.  They quickly bowed, and disappeared with Xue Yang.

“Masters Xiao and Song, I invite you and the Lady A-Qing to accompany us back to Cloud Recesses for rest and recovery.”  Lan Zhan bowed to them.

“I think that would be wise.”  Xiao Xingchen returned the bow.  The Juniors with swords paired up with those who did not have swords, and those who were injured or otherwise incapacitated, then flew off in the direction of Gusu.

That left Lan Zhan, Wei Ying, and Nie Huaisang alone.

“Follow me.” Nie Huaisang said, wasting no time.

When Lan Zhan kicked off the lid of the coffin, Wei Ying had to physically hold back A-Sang from touching anything.  The coffin was lined with talismans, and Nie Mingjue’s body was perfectly preserved, minus one hand.

“Don’t touch anything.  I recognize those talismans. There keeping the fierce corpse sedated.”  Wei Ying explained.

A-Sang thrashed and cried out in Wei Ying’s arms, but he didn’t let go.  “A-Sang, please, listen to me.  Someone who had access to my notes did this.  It looks like they’re trying to recreate the ritual I used on Wen Ning, to return his consciousness.  But they executed it badly.”

A-Sang stopped thrashing and just collapsed.  Wei Ying went to the ground with him.  “I can fix it.  I promise.  We still have the Stygian Tiger Seal.  I can recreate the ritual correctly.  I know it’s a shock someone turned him into a fierce corpse to begin with.  But I CAN fix this.”

“We need to get the whole coffin, with the body, back to Qinghe.”  Lan Zhan said.

“I think I can make a teleportation talisman that will go that far. Let me give it a try.”

[keldae]

Kiss prompt #9. “War’s End” kiss

She's fine, Theron tried to tell himself as he paced on board the Republic flagship just departing Corellia for Carrick Station. Sure, the Meridian Complex had taken damage during the battle, but it was still mostly intact. Tau and Arn were both being dug out of the debris, but reports indicated they would both recover just fine. And his tough, stubborn little wife had survived more perilous situations than this before, a couple of which Theron himself had been responsible for. It couldn't have been worse than the Umbara incident despite the Empire's best efforts, right? She's fine, he repeated to himself like a mantra. She's fine, she's fine…

The turbolift doors behind him hissed open, and he heard hurried footsteps coming toward him as his favourite voice called out his name. He whirled around to see the very welcome sight of his petite redhead rushing toward him, and barely had time to take a step forward before Xaja had leapt into his arms, making him grunt as he caught her, the momentum spinning them both around. The discomfort of having a hundred pounds of Jedi leaping into his chest was a small price to pay for having her safely with him; the feeling of relief countering his anxiety was a dizzying contrast. 

"Thank the Force you're okay," he finally murmured as he stopped spinning them around, burying his face in the side of her neck, feeling her clinging to his shoulders. He could smell sweat and burned ozone, the odour lingering in her messy hair. But he couldn't smell blood or burned flesh, and Xaja didn't appear to be flinching from his tight hold on her. No significant injuries to report today, it seemed.

"So are you," Xaja whispered as she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes before frowning. She reached up, gingerly touching a scrape along Theron’s temple over his implants, courtesy of some flying debris that he had dodged most of. "You are okay, right? Hells, tell me you're not hurt--" 

"Baby, I'm totally fine. Just some bruises." Theron smiled and nuzzled her nose, then furrowed his brow worriedly. "I'm not the one who just about had the entire blasted shipyard brought down on their head. Are you sure you're not--"

Apparently Xaja had decided there was only one adequate way to both convince Theron that she was fine and assure herself that he wasn't badly hurt. Disregarding the Alliance and Republic soldiers nearby, she cupped his face with slim fingers and pulled him into a hot, fierce kiss. Theron quickly decided he could get used to this method of assurance as he kissed her back, tightening his arms around her, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from their audience. Kriff 'em. His wife was all that mattered right now.

He finally pulled back for air as Xaja rested her forehead against his, eyes only slowly opening. "Convinced that I'm fine yet?" she finally murmured with a smile.

"Mmm… getting there." Theron smirked as he kissed her again. "I'm gonna need to… do a full check later, just to be on the safe side. I'm sure you understand."

Xaja softly laughed, her thumbs tracing over his cheekbones. "I expect nothing less, love," she breathed out. "Of course, I'll need to give you the full once-over too, as a precaution…" Green eyes darted down, then back up. "Maybe the twice-over if you ask nicely," she added with a wink.

Theron grinned and leaned in for another kiss. "Oh, please do. We both know how--"

"I do hate to interrupt," Master Gnost-Dural's voice dryly interjected from only a couple of short metres away, startling Theron into dropping Xaja as she squeaked in surprise, "but the Chancellor has requested a holoconference. She particularly would like to speak to you, Commander Taerich, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Right," Xaja mumbled, her face blushing to the colour of Theron's old jacket as she looked anywhere except at Gnost-Dural. "I'll, uh, be right there." 

"Of course." If Theron hadn't known Gnost-Dural for so long, he would have accused the old Jedi of sounding not a little bit smugly amused. Could Kel Dor smirk under their masks? That sounded suspiciously like the tone of voice that went along with a smirk. "I'll let General Daeruun know you'll be along shortly." Theron watched as the old Jedi stepped back and started walking away, feeling his eyes narrow -- the swish of robes didn’t quite mask the sound of the old man's quiet chuckle. 

The spy shook his head and gently tilted Xaja’s head back up to face him with a finger curled under her chin. “Everyone else seems to have made it out okay,” he assured her. “I’ll check in with your brothers while you’re debriefing -- Sorand should have a status update for Odessen’s forces.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Theron.” Xaja smiled and stretched up on tip-toe to kiss Theron’s cheek. “I’ll let you know when I’m out. Hopefully this won’t be a prolonged chat.”

“Good luck,” Theron winked as he finally stepped back and released her from his hold. “Knowing your luck talking with Republic Chancellors…”

Xaja laughed as she started walking toward the turbolifts. “She can’t be any worse than Saresh,” she called back with a wink, blowing a kiss back to Theron before turning away. He lingered for a moment, watching her walk away (and subconsciously analyzing her stride for a limp), his gaze fond. Being back among Republic forces was good for her -- there was a lightness to her step that hadn't been there since the Zakuulan war, and an open, happy smile as she interacted with other Jedi. Much though he'd enjoyed Odessen's independence, it was comfortable to be openly working with the Republic again.

He wasn't surprised to hear the news, a couple of hours later, that Xaja had accepted the offer for Odessen to join the Republic. Despite Lana's reservations with their new citizenships, he decided it was worth it to see Xaja all but skipping with joy when they met back up in Carrick Station. That was a light to her eyes that he hadn't even seen after Vaylin's defeat or Valkorion's destruction. Nothing quite outdid the feeling of returning home.

[vespertine-legacy]

@astrifer-bound, Gaz, Anh, and I finally went back to MM Objective Meridian tonight for revenge (and shenanigans, because it’s us) after Jakir and Seldin stomped us last time (and Lex had to leave for real world responsibilities). 

We destroyed the bonus boss, Commander Rasha, now that we actually know the mechanics, and we managed to take out the two Jedi jerks in two pulls (first pull resulted in Vidi dying horribly with over 20 stacks of whatever it was that Jakir was putting on him, second pull went much better, even if it might not have been the actual recommended method). (look up guides to know who needs to do what before you go into a fight? or after a boss has wiped the floor with you a few times? pffffffft! go in blind and try new things until you make it work!).

Tau was incredibly rude to us, but we managed to take her down, even though it got extremely hairy at the end, since she managed to kill Vidi out from under my heals by interrupting a heal that probably would have saved him (and I had already res’d Anh in that fight, so I couldn’t get him back up with a battle res, and apparently I couldn’t stealth res him? it may have been because he was dead inside one of the stupid white aoes, I’m unsure...). I spent the rest of the fight trying not to cry because Gaz and Anh are both Dumb Heroes(TM) who want to die on their feet, which is great and all except for the part where Y’ALL ARE SQUISHY AND OUR TANK IS DEAD. Pretty sure I was the only one who actually made it into the shield during at least one of the Breath of Ossus attacks, and I have no idea how I managed my energy well enough to keep all three of us alive long enough for them to finish Tau off, especially since I had already used my cloaking screen and couldn’t run away when all of the adds decided that I was tastiest because after Vidi was down, I was generating the most threat for a hot minute (the only reason I appreciated Gaz and Anh’s need to Be Heroes was that it did make the adds realize I had dropped threat like twelve times already thankyouverymuch). When the achievement for beating her popped up, I think I may have actually said “oh thank fuck” out loud, because I was tired after that.

So I let Raz lie down for a nap, and when Anh and Gaz poked her, I told them, no, let the blueberry sleep! And then we had a little Imperial post-battle spoon train.

[professoruber]

Theory on Meridian | Birds of Prey (2023-)

Spoilers ahead for Birds of Prey (2023-) #5 - Along with general spoilers for the series as a whole

So Birds of Prey (2023-) #5 released; and so I am writing this post both as a follow-up to my pre-release speculation but also to discuss a specific theory on Meridian. While I may be focusing on this one specific character a bit much; I think its worth considering how she's kinda been a major driving force of the plot despite her limited appearance and revealed motivation. So there is plenty of potential for some discussion here.

Namely; what is Meridian's true nature and motives?

So far we have not seen a direct detailed explanation from Meridian regarding her motives or why she has specifically excluded who she excluded. We do however get a bit of a hint at some stuff, which in turn also supports the idea that she is indeed from the future as she claims...

"Where the final battle always is" - Meridian.

Quite the intriguing word choice, which Cass also picked up on as being concerning. This does imply that this is not the first time Meridian has gone through this; and that in turn implies the Birds of Prey have failed in previous timelines. This could be used to explain why she did things the way she did; perhaps telling the Diana or Barbara has backfired in some manner before.

I still would like some specific reasoning for her information security choices and why she didn't provide more information apparently, but it'd still be a decent handwave at least on the part of the writers. Assuming Meridian is on the up and up of course, because...

Meridian might be evil (possibly)

I have seen it pointed out on Reddit that Meridian's speech bubbles...

Have the same reversed (black background & white text vs the typical white background & black text) colouring as Megaera...

Granted; the reversed text for Meridian appears to be a sign of her voice getting distorted by the mask (her speech is coloured normally both when her helmet is off and occasionally even when it's still on), and her speech bubbles' edges are not drawn the same as Megaera... but it's still an interesting coincidence.

And that comparison got me noticing another strange similarity in their colouring.

Both appear to have a sort of black/green/yellowish colour scheme, especially in the cover art. Those controlled by Megaera are also depicted with green eyes...

So overall it is a strange series of coincidences I think.

These panels do have Meridian helping out Cass and Zealot by fighting the mind controlled Wonder Woman, which could go against the idea she herself is under control.. but on the other hand, she's also doing it to get Cass and Zealot to go where she's telling them to; so if she does have ulterior motives this may be orchestrated to push them in the direction she wants?

Hard to say; especially since the mind controlled Wonder Woman is also shown with the reversed colouring in her text bubble as Meriden (albeit still with rougher edges) and Megaera. Her little comments like "Crap. That felt less scary in my head" also do provide support to her being genuine ("Crap" was also something of a signature expletive for Maps in Gotham Academy for that matter).

Still, I can't deny the odd coincidences. Especially since they chose to design Meridian's costume and 'aura' in a way which is oddly similar to the main villain despite the fact that I don't think think Maps has been associated with such a theme before. And if Meridian is evil or being controlled, then it could better explain why she excluded Diana and Barbara and also why things have gotten so out of control despite her foreknowledge and implied previous attempts.

All very interesting stuff.

Or maybe I'm overanalysing all this stuff and Meridian's just time travelling hero and Future Maps.

(Imagine though if this ended up being a sorta 'backdoor pilot' kinda thing for Robin!Maps; introducing her a villain the form of an evil future her? Maybe not but still).

In conclusion

I got some mixed feelings about Meridian. On one hand, scattered comments by her do admittedly point to her seeming genuine and not being controlled. And the fact her bubbles are drawn without the rough edges of Megaera and those controlled by her, and also are coloured normally when her helmet is off, could point towards it just being a coincidence; they might've just used the same technique to depict 'distorted' speech for both.

But still... this is quite the number of coincidences; between the colouring of both her costume and speech bubbles, as well as the oddly sparse information we've gotten from her and her limited appearances. The possibility of some kind of twist regarding her is something worth considering I think.

Still do hope for Present!Maps getting involved in the Birds of Prey though, that would be cool. And hopefully more Cass and Maps interactions, those are cute.

[ltwilliammowett]

John Harrison’s first marine timekeeper, 1737. (© National Maritime Museum, Greenwich)

The Development of the Marine Chronometer

The rotation of the earth leads to an apparent movement of the celestial bodies (sun, stars, moon) in the firmament. Since the earth rotates by a known amount in a certain time, the time difference of such events at the respective observation sites is in a fixed relation to the difference in length of their positions.

The exact time of such events (such as the midday passage of the sun through the meridian) thus depends on the position of the observer on the globe - and exclusively on his longitude, i.e. his displacement in an east-west direction. With the help of a chronometer, the time difference of such an event at the place of observation is determined with the time at the place for which both the longitude and the time of this event are known exactly. For this purpose, the chronometer must be synchronized with the time of the known location.

The difference in length can then be calculated from the observed time difference:

Since the solar day, defined as a complete apparent rotation of the sun in the sky (360 degrees), lasts on average 24 hours or 1440 minutes, there is a time difference of exactly four minutes per degree of longitude difference. A ship whose local time is exactly 48 minutes behind that of a defined prime meridian (such as that of Greenwich) would therefore be twelve degrees west of this prime meridian. A deviation of the clock's rate, however, causes inaccuracies in the determination of the time at the zero meridian and thus of the length - it is not possible to determine which part of the time difference is attributable to the geographical position reached and which to the deviation of the clock reached until then.

This also led to the following event, which Admiral Sir Clowdisley Shovell called "Chastly weather" and cursed over the fog that had been present at sea for twelve days. After victorious battles with the French Mediterranean fleet, he set sail from Gibraltar to England on 29 September 1707 with 21 ships of the Royal Navy. Full of concern that his ships could run on rocky reefs, the admiral ordered his navigation officers to consult each other. According to unanimous opinion, the fleet was at a safe distance west of the Ile d´Ouessant. But the officers had calculated their position incorrectly. The Scilly Islands, twenty miles off the southwest tip of England, became a nameless grave for 2,000 soldiers.

Now the governments of the various seafaring nations had long been looking for a solution to the so-called longitude problem. This misfortune led to the British government in the so-called "Longitude Act" of July 8, 1714, to suspend the highest price. 20,000 pounds was to be given to anyone who could find a method for determining the geographical longitude at sea.

John Harrison (1693-1776)

John Harrison, who was born into a family of simple means on 24 th March, 1693 in the county of Yorkshire, had learned the carpentry trade. In 1713, not quite having reached the age of twenty, he had made his very first clock without having had any training as a clockmaker. More clocks were to follow.

John Harrison's famous chronometer H-5 , 1772

No one knows when or how Harrison had first learned of the Board of Longitude’s prize. Perhaps he had already dealt with the problem before. To make a clock that would work reliably at sea, he dispensed with the pendulum and replaced it with two dumbbell balances linked together.   

In 1737, he presented his clock to the Board of Longitude. Although his clock had only been off by a few seconds per day on the trial voyage from London to Lisbon, he declared that his timekeeper still had a few deficiencies that he intended to rectify. In the 20 years that followed, he perfected his ideas and completed his „sea watch“ in 1759. The drawings were published in 1767. 

Yet many years passed before Harrison received his prize. Not until King George III intervened on Harrison’s behalf did Harrison receive the prize in 1773, three years before his death. 

John Harrison (1693-1776). Mezzotint by P. L. Tassaert, after a painting by Thomas King. (© Trustees of the British Museum)

John Arnold (1736-1799)

John Harrison’s clocks were good; however, they were complicated to make and, consequently, expensive. John Arnold designed a less expensive model. In 1782 he had a new type of escapement and a compensation balance patented. The most significant aspect of Arnold’s design was that the balance would be in contact with the gear train for only a very short period of time in order to trigger the impulse for the movement.

Arnold’s invention changed the way position was determined on the high seas. Thanks to the sextant and the chronometer, mariners would now know where they were, even after weeks of voyaging on the open sea. 

Such was the case in 1789 with Captain Thomas Welladvice, commander of the Indiaman, Barwell. By determining their position with his Arnold chronometer in the middle of the night, Welladvice found out that he had to be near the Isles of Scilly. He had the ship moored at midnight. By daybreak he saw the rocks before him. The tragedy of 1707 did not repeat itself.

John Arnold (1736-1799). Engraving by Susan Esther Reid, after Robert Davy. (© Trustees of the British Museum)

John Arnold, pocket chronometer, N°1/36, housed in a 22-carat gold case, London, 1778.

[fallintosanity]

c’mon guys, stop poking the traumatized guy who happens to be strong enough to destroy the entire building

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

The rest of the week passed remarkably smoothly. Noctis did his single quota-filling mission each day, then vanished back to his bunk, presumably to nap the rest of the day away. Cloud couldn't help but wonder if Noctis was just bored. At the very least, he was entirely unfazed by the minor threats he was sent to handle: an unruly patch of razorweed on Tuesday, a flock of ahrimans Wednesday, more cripshays Thursday, and a little cluster of mandragora, likely attracted from their native grasslands habitat by the mako reactors in the city, on Friday. Noctis dealt with each set of monsters with the same agile swordplay he’d used on his first mission.

They didn’t talk much; Cloud wasn’t exactly one for small talk, and Noctis seemed content with the silence. It wasn’t the easy, comfortable silence of being around Kunsel or Vincent, though - Noctis gave the impression that he didn’t expect Cloud to talk. In fact, he occasionally seemed to forget Cloud was there, or at least seemed surprised when Cloud stepped out of whatever corner he’d retreated to while Noctis dealt with his targets. It made Cloud think uneasily of that first conversation they’d had by the riverbank, when Noctis admitted to believing SOLDIERs couldn’t talk.

Other than that, the only somewhat odd thing about Noctis was that he didn’t use his Thunder materia at all on the missions. Given what had happened when he’d tried casting it in class last week, Cloud could hardly blame him, but it would have been useful against the ahrimans. At least whatever had caused the explosion seemed to have resolved itself; when Cloud’s Thursday materia class rolled around, Noctis’s attempts at casting Bolt produced little more than a glorified spark. He did still cast almost instantaneously, though, which was unexpected and baffling. Artificial materia simply didn’t cast that quickly, not even fully leveled. It didn’t make any sense, and Cloud made a mental note to ask Genesis about it later, after the commander returned from the parade tour he’d been shipped out on with Sephiroth.

All in all, it was a quiet and uneventful week. Which was the only excuse Cloud had for lowering his guard.

Noctis hadn’t taken any missions Saturday or Sunday, apparently (and rightfully) unconcerned by his ability to fill his mission quota. But that meant Cloud had had nothing to do either day. Genesis and Sephiroth were on that parade tour, and Kunsel and Zack had been sent to accompany the Turks on a mission to Wutai to deal with a group of freedom fighters unwilling to acknowledge ShinRa’s grip on the region. Cloud spent Saturday with Aeris in the church, helping her tend the garden and listening to her talk about how her flower-selling business was taking off. But she was back out selling on Sunday, so Cloud retreated to the Training Room to get some practice in.

After the easy week with Noctis, battling the illusory monsters was almost interesting, despite the group of curious cadets who gathered to watch. Whatever technologists maintained the Training Room had updated it recently with new monsters modeled after the increasingly aggressive mako mutants that had begun turning up around the reactors. While even those posed little threat to Cloud, they were still more of a challenge than the previous grandhorns and sahagins it had featured.

He left the Training Room a few hours later, sweaty but invigorated, and all but ran into Lazard in the hallway outside. “Commander Strife,” Lazard greeted him. “Impressive show.”

Something about his tone immediately set Cloud’s teeth on edge. “Director,” he answered neutrally, and turned to walk back to his bunk.

“Do you have a moment?” Lazard fell in step beside Cloud without waiting for an answer. “I wanted to talk to you about a request from the Science Department.”

Cloud’s good mood evaporated in an instant. “Not interested.” He sped up his pace, trying to pull away from Lazard, but the director’s longer legs let him keep up easily.

“At least hear me out,” Lazard said. “I’m sure you’re aware that Hollander’s and Hojo’s deaths left significant gaps in ShinRa’s research programs—”

“Read my contract,” Cloud snapped. “No doctors.”

“I’m aware,” Lazard said. “This wouldn’t be a medical examination, though. Dr. Meridian just wants to interview you regarding the mako treatments you received—”

“No.”

“But—”

Cloud whirled on Lazard, teeth bared. “No.”

Lazard fell back a step, eyes wide, hands half-raised in a defensive motion. “...All right. I’ll let Dr. Meridian know. Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Lazard had disappeared around a corner of the hallway that Cloud realized his fingers were wrapped around the hilt of First Tsurugi. It took several minutes more for Cloud to calm down enough to make himself move, his feet rooted to the spot with a sickening swirl of terror and fury. He’d intended to return to his room, but when he finally made it to the dorms, he found himself lingering in front of Kunsel’s door instead. But Kunsel was out on a mission, and wasn’t due back for days.

Cloud made himself keep moving, stalking into his own room and stripping out of his sweaty clothes. He needed a shower, but that wasn’t going to happen right now, the narrow shower cubby in his room too much like a mako tank when Lazard had just yanked those memories back to the front of Cloud’s mind. He settled for wiping down with a damp washcloth and collapsing onto the bed. It was late afternoon still, too early to go to sleep, but if Cloud went back out into the building then Lazard might find him again. Or some innocent cadet who didn’t deserve to be around Cloud right now.

He hadn’t expected to sleep, not with the memories of Nibelheim and the labs swirling through his mind, but he’d worked out hard and his body was tired; and at some point the memories smeared and faded into nightmares. Green mako soaking his skin, his clothes, his hair. Men in lab coats standing over him, scalpels slicing into his skin. Screaming in agony, in terror, until his throat was ripped raw and he was dropped back into the mako, green pouring down his throat, filling his lungs, choking him—

“Cloud.”

He snapped awake, one hand reaching for the hilt of First Tsurugi where it sat beside his bed before he’d even opened his eyes—

—came up empty and he panicked, where was his sword—

Got his eyes open.

First Tsurugi was propped against the far wall of his room. Sephiroth stood between it and Cloud.

I can’t sleep through your nightmares.

“Get out,” Cloud snapped.

Sephiroth folded his arms and leaned against Cloud’s desk. Like the last time he was here, he wore only pajama pants, and there was a sense of tiredness around him which Cloud had the sick feeling was coming over their connection more than anything about his physical appearance. He didn’t say anything.

“You’re supposed to be on tour,” Cloud managed.

“We got back an hour ago,” Sephiroth said. Cloud glanced at the clock - not quite midnight. Sephiroth added, “Neither Genesis nor I got any sleep the entire mission, thanks to the President’s paranoia about AVALANCHE terrorists.”

“You won’t get any sleep here, either.”

“I told you, it’s still more restful than dealing with your nightmares.”

Something snapped in Cloud’s chest, that Sephiroth of all people could stand here and say that to him, Sephiroth who was responsible for everything that had happened to him, everyone who’d died in the last ten years of his life, all the pain and all the destruction and all the sorrow. Fists clenched, Cloud snarled, “If you didn’t want to deal with them, you shouldn’t have given them to me!”

Green eyes narrowed. “Hojo is the one who gave you those nightmares,” Sephiroth said. “Hojo and a version of me which exists nowhere but in your memories.”

I will never be a memory.

The voice - the other Sephiroth’s voice, the madman who’d nearly killed him - was so real in his head that Cloud almost thought the Sephiroth in front of him was the one who’d said it. His blood ran cold and for a moment he was back there, atop the decrepit ShinRa tower, Masamune spearing him and Sephiroth smirking at him. Phantom pain lanced through his chest and he doubled over, fingers knotting in his shirt.

Sephiroth whispered, “He impaled you.”

Cloud flinched. Looked up. Sephiroth had one hand curled over his chest in the same spot as Cloud, his eyes wide.

Do you remember this pain, Cloud?

Cloud almost laughed, was surprised when blood didn’t pool in his mouth. “Twice,” he said.

“I saw,” Sephiroth said. “In your nightmares, I saw that. But I thought—”

“It was real!” Cloud insisted.

Sephiroth stared at him.

“You impaled me,” Cloud hissed. “All but killed me. You nearly killed Tifa and Zack. You killed my mom.” His voice rose to a shout with the words, but he couldn’t make himself care. “You burned down my village and killed everyone in it. You killed—” remembering just in time not to say her name, not now, not when she was still alive— “my friend. You almost destroyed the planet!”

“You promised,” Sephiroth said quietly, “to kill me if I ever started down that path in this timeline.”

“I will,” Cloud agreed.

“I’m still here,” Sephiroth said. “Therefore, I’ve done none of that.”

It was Cloud’s turn to stare at him. Sephiroth met his gaze levelly, waiting. Still focused on the memory of Sephiroth, the one created out of mako energy and pure bitter willpower, Cloud was surprised to see him blink, to see his chest move slightly as he breathed. The Sephiroth he’d fought so many times since Nibelheim never showed even those faint signs of humanity.

When Cloud didn’t say anything, Sephiroth continued, “I cannot undo what that alternate me did in your memories. But if I can prevent you from reliving it in your nightmares…” He trailed off with a slight twitch of his shoulder, an almost rueful shrug, his eyes still on Cloud. “Let me do that much. And if you won’t believe I would do it for a friend,” he added, and there, there was that obnoxious smirk in the curl of his mouth, the gleam of his slit-pupiled eyes, “then at least believe I would do it for my own sake, so I can get some rest.”

Cloud stared at him for a few more minutes, but Sephiroth had apparently said his piece and was now settling in for the night, shifting to more comfortably lean against the desk and tossing his hair out of his face. “I hate you,” Cloud muttered, but even he could admit there was less heat to it than usual. He slouched back against the wall, folded his arms, and yawned.

At least he’d gotten a few hours of sleep before Sephiroth showed up.

[miniatureclover]

Faraway Wanderers Reading Blog: Chapters 06-10

I AM BACK! Maybe I’ll be able to finish this live blog series before the live action comes out? Hopefully?

Chapter 6: The Beauty

Gu Xiang and Zhou Zishu are way too much together, ha. They also make a good team, surprisingly, even with Zhou Zishu having to bow out of the fight part way (throwing the same “poor fragile me” excuse Gu Xiang used right back at her…except he actually means it since the fool is literally dying a slow death by nails). He’s also a good teacher, and her a good student, and this really isn’t helping him lay low but ah well, I guess that flew out of the window once this whole mess started.

The fight scenes are pretty good, too. Gu Xiang is young and confident, but absolutely brutal and not afraid to use hidden weapons. She has good reflexes and instincts, though she is still young, and that’s reflected in her panic when she loses her weapon and getting overconfident. Contrast that with Zhou Zishu who is very observant and picks up some stones to help her out when he has to rest, and you can see the clear difference between them as people with two different experience levels. It’s really neat how the narrative manages to mix the characters’ life experiences, personality, and age into the way they fight without giving it away explicitly.

She blinked in astonishment — this ragged man’s ramblings worth diddlysquat, but his execution in battle was one of the cleanest and cruelest she had ever seen. It really made one wonder who he was.

Really throwing that image out the window. Guess it’s lucky he was nerfed by the nails, huh. And it turns out that our main character is also a rather brutal fighter, when he can fight without collapsing.

And here enters Wen Kexing, finally with a proper name! What an entrance. He’s already kind of a creep with no sense of personal boundaries, ha. He’s also really, really perceptive though. In a creepy way (who says “your shoulder blades are beautiful, therefore your face must also be beautiful”?? he’s such a ridiculous flirt).

Alas, we are left wondering whether Wen Kexing is really blinded by good looks or just very perceptive after Gu Xiang says that he has a tendency to exaggerate.

Chapter 7: Setting Off

Oh gosh, this poor boy. Protect him, he is precious. I’m talking about Zhang Chengling of course, who starts the chapter off crying because he has seen a lot of stuff go down, like his entire family dying to start things off, followed by people coming to kill him and a seemingly random beggar agreeing to deliver him somewhere safe? But, alas, might as well cry yourself a river while you’re at it, kid. It’s going to be a rough ride now that he’s stuck with this ragtag group.

Wen Kexing is such a clown. He has his wits about him, but he is such a clown with a punchable face. Zhou Zishu isn’t actually much better in terms of acting like a normal human being interacting with smaller human beings. At least Zhang Chengling is resilient. He bounces back quickly and continues to pester Zhou Zishu to become his teacher. He does still have nightmares, which makes sense after all he’s been through.

But he seems to remind Zhou Zishu of someone from his past, which is interesting.

Back to why Zhang Chengling is a precious bun and must be protected: after having nightmares and believing he’s woken his savior up, he says things like “I can…I can stop sleeping if it’s a problem?” That is not actually a legitimate solution to the problem, believe it or not.

Then some enemies arrive with a superpowered guqin/zither, which is hilarious no matter how many novels or dramas I encounter considering traditional guqin with silk strings aren’t very loud instruments (the description from the first sentence of the next chapter is right in that it’s more of a “thin” sound than other instruments).

Chapter 8: Moonshade

Wen Kexing is indeed an enigma, the perfect match for Zhou Zishu who is undoubtedly one himself. In between his moments of eccentricity, he provides a lot of insight to the martial arts world, the way he conveys the harshness of life in it striking a rather eerie note (Wen Kexing’s voice was gentle, “Even if he’s still alive, all of his meridians have been broken; he’s useless now. Death would be a happier fate for him.”) and slides right out of it a moment later.

This match also speaks to Zhou Zishu’s capabilities: injured, he managed to beat Qin Song who is apparently well-known for his ability to kill people with that zither, and with a crudely constructed flute at that.

He felt a particular aura from this man that suggested they might be birds of a feather, the other would definitely not do something if it didn’t benefit him. […] After lots of thoughts without any solid conclusions, he scoffed at himself — old habits died hard.

You two are indeed birds of a feather, glad you noticed. I do like how he slips back into old habits, after all, he only recently stepped away from his former life as a spymaster, it’d be difficult to put a stop to all of his old tendencies.

They even proceed to exchange a few moves, presumably to figure each other out, until the pesky nails driven into Zhou Zishu’s torso act up, which gives Wen Kexing an opportunity to be a creep and touch his face. Half of it makes sense, since he’s convinced Zhou Zishu is “a beauty” and hiding it somehow, but he seems the type to have done such a thing even without that reason.

This exchange is hilarious though:

-What’s my face made of? -Human skin. -It feels like it’s one with your body… -Well, I was born with it, so.

…I should hope so. These two are a comedy duo in their own right.

Gu Xiang continues to be a delight, in any case. She has no reserve about making smart comments as soon as Wen Kexing’s back is turned, probably knowing he can still hear her at a distance.

Finally, three days later, their little party manages to make it to Zhang Chengling’s father’s friend, but we’re only on chapter 8, which means there’s much more chaos to be had in their future. For now, Zhou Zishu is relieved he finished his self-imposed mission and gained some “merits”, but muses on how it’s exhausting to be good person, haha. Indeed, the world doesn’t make it easy sometimes, especially not the crazy martial arts world they live in.

Chapter 9: In the Woods

Name info-dump, I guarantee I will remember none of them. It does fill out the world and fits with Zhou Zishu’s character, since his job required him to know all the nitty-gritty details of the major players in the martial arts world.

Ultimately, the exposition serves to let us know why he decides stay in the manor for a bit, as he’s well aware that Zhao Jing and the rest of the people grouping up at his place aren’t as glamorous and gallant as they seem. Also, he’s already weak to Zhang Chengling’s puppy eyes, apparently.

Zhao Jing is catching onto the glaringly obvious hints at Zhou Zishu being far more than a random beggar, and his manipulation of Zhang Chengling’s eager to please nature might be a bad sign of what’s to come. Zhou Zishu is more than prepared for a little investigating into his real identity, and the deception runs deep enough that he has a whole fake history and job to go along with his name.

Zhou Zishu endures a round of social BS-ing, aka attempts to dig for information on him, which is explained in a really succinct manner: although the greetings and false praise are absolute bullshit and not genuine in the least, they do serve a purpose, which is to sort out who has relations with who, and who is an outsider to be wary of. It’s a good point. The boot-licking is a standard in the genre that emphasizes the importance of saving face and social relations. The author summed it up well.

After sitting through all that, Zhou Zishu decides he has stayed long enough and departs under the cover of night, except he can’t shake Wen Kexing off his tail, much to his annoyance.

I’ll admit, these two characters don’t draw me in quite as much as some of priest’s other protagonists, but their dialogue is a goldmine:

-“Escorting the young master Zhang is purely for gathering merits, so that I won’t have to endure any tortures in the Underworld after death. -“Correct, Brother Zhou truly shares the same mind with me; and as only beautiful people can do that, it is clear-” -“See, my dear soulmate, another chance for merit gathering has appeared.”

They continue bickering until they find a corpse in the forest, aaand this is where our plot kicks off!

Chapter 10: Netherworld

“Someone killed the Lord of Duan Jian Manor, and I’m a charitable person who wants to gather merits, so why not. And I’m bored anyway.”

Ha. And Zhou Zishu catches onto his BS right away, suggesting he might want to chase after Sun Ding because he’s the most powerful of the culprits who ran off. It’s hilarious how well-matched these two are, and how they just roll with each other’s ridiculous commentary.

Despite not wanting to get involved, Zhou Zishu can’t help it. His detective senses are tingling and he figures there’s nothing to lose since he’s a dead man walking.

However, their pursuit leads them to another dead body, and they take off after the person fleeing the crime scene until they reach a cemetery. Of course it’s a cemetery, haha. The person they were pursuing also disappears mysteriously. The whole scene is fit for a horror movie, complete with laughing animals.

Now, to be fair, and I’m not sure if this applies to owls, but some animals like foxes have truly terrifying vocalizations (one variation sounds like a screaming woman, for one). It’s no wonder people used to think demons and spirits existed. Unlike western depictions of the owl as a symbol of wisdom, among other things, in Chinese culture they’re apparently bad omens, at most used to ward off evil spirits.

Wen Kexing is so random and dramatic and loves to talk, haha. He tells a short story about owls being omens of death, then about locust trees being considered the door to the underworld. They really do find an underground cavern and river beneath the tombstone.

So! We have met our two main characters, become well-acquainted with their propensity to hide their true identities and incessant bickering when they’re together, and set the stage for solving a murder mystery. Decent progression for 10/78 chapters. I really love priest’s writing, which is always a delightful balance of pleasant and poetic description between good, distinctive dialogue and forward action to progress the story.