#and of course I don’t succeed with all! many such cases of it not succeeding

[fredseibertdotcom]

THE WATT WORKS FAMILY [1990 catalog]

Download THE WATT WORKS FAMILY at Scribd

This WATT catalog is 35 years old, maybe in the age of the internet, their last one. 

Working with Carla Bley and Michael Mantler was one of the great inspirations of my young work life. Which is probably why I’ve posted a number times of some of their work, from the time I worked with them and afterwards too. 

Why am I so interested? Carla and Mike were perfect models of talent, sure, but also resilience, perseverance, determination, and blind, stupid, confidence. We first became acquainted after I crashed a recording session for Carla’s ‘operatic’ Escalator Over the Hill, which they financed themselves, and out of frustration, released and distributed themselves on JCOA Records. which eventually spawned the self determination of the New Music Distribution Service and WATT Works, a label for their continuing works. 

When I bumped into this 1990 catalog from THE WATT WORKS FAMILY (by then with bass/composer stalwart Steve Swallow, daughter/composer Karen Mantler [and her cat Arnold], and distributed internationally by ECM Records) I was struck, not only by the sheer volume of personal, completely –can I emphasize completely?– independent work, but also the sheer value of creating this work self sufficiently. It made me suddenly aware of why I felt they were so influential to me. 

Are there any other musical composers who’ve succeeded in getting their music recorded with no outside creative interference? Who, because of that complete independence, were able to experiment –often successfully, quite a few, not so much*– across such a wide range of the possibilities of their music? And think about it, what composers have you ever listened to who were completely unafraid of reaching beyond the box they were put in (’jazz’ in their cases) to artists that had the unique talents, and not for nothing, commercial possibilities? (Their records have spanned the Western world of contemporary music... from the jazz world, Don Cherry, Cecil Taylor, Pharaoh Sanders, Charlie Haden, Larry Coryell, Roswell Rudd, but also Linda Ronstadt, Jack Bruce, Robert Wyatt, Don Preston, Terry Adams, and of course, I’ve left out dozens of others.) 

Let me stress, it was unbelievably hard for them to hit those accomplishments,  no one can say that success is easy. But, it is their very independence that gave them room to try. You know what they say... “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

.....

From the introduction: 

Now the truth can be told. The WATT recording label is not the idealistic, uncompromising, visionary creation of two young revolutionaries. No, Michael Mantler and Carla Bley started WATT, almost 20 years ago, to make money. 

Like all musicians, they assumed that once the world got to hear their unique individual styles, fame and riches would follow. So they slaved over each new release, always sure that the latest one would sell millions.

Carla went through many phases. After realizing that no one was interested in hearing her zany capricious fantastic amazingly intricate concoctions for large assortments of weird and wonderful musicians, she tried to write simple little songs for small, boring groups of anonymous hacks. Mike, on the other hand, stuck firmly to his grandiose style, turning out gaunt tragic forlorn bleak emotionally distraught masterpieces, certain that someday his music would pay off. 

Finally giving up all thoughts of ever cashing in on their own efforts, they formed an·auxiliary company, XtraWATT, and started looking for young talent to exploit. The first sucker that they stumbled upon was Steve Weisberg. He was definitely young, and ready to work for nothing. It wasn't difficult to recruit 20 other desperate musicians to play on his album, I CAN'T STAND ANOTHER NIGHT ALONE (IN BED WITH YOU), by promising to pay them lots of money when it came out. 

Next to fall for the XtraWATT scam was young veteran jazz bassist Steve Swallow, who, desirous of getting his collection of overkeening faux-negre soul ballads recorded, handed over his life savings to Mantler·to cover "expenses", and even agreed to call the album CARLA.

But word of the racket got out, and no one else could be found who was willing to record for XtraWATT. In desparation, Mantler and Bley forced their own child, Karen, to learn a few chords and simple melodies. They even tried to train their cat to sing the resulting ditties. (Most of those efforts had to be replaced by unsuspecting teenaged humans, but the album was still called MY CAT ARNOLD, to avoid paying royalties.)  

In spite of Mantler's greedy misdoings (word has it that Bley is just a pawn in his game), his victims still adore him, having nothing to compare their music business experiences to. Even Weisberg, who has confessed that he has ambitions of someday graduating into the clutches of a big-time criminal at a real record company, is embarrassingly grateful.  

Naturally, the entire WATT/XtraWATT family was honored to go along with his latest plot. Hopefullly, some nice journalist or salesperson will notice how interesting and valuable the music is, and persuade the public to finally fork over those dollars! 

.....

*Some reviews, taken from the catalog: 

“…the finest examples of progressive large ensemble work written and recorded in America in 1975.” –Downbeat 

“This record is a real dog.”  

“It’s delightful.” –Melody Maker 

“…the least listenable record I have ever heard.” –Melody Maker 

“Everything Jesus Christ Superstar should have been and isn’t.” –Changes 

“This is a record which all rock musicians as well as general audiences should listen to with care.” –Rolling Stone 

[egg-emperor]

There are people who genuinely believe that sonic villains don’t kill people?

Ok if they mean outright, like attempting murder I can understand. But if they mean at all? I don’t think so

The amount of collateral damage that round bitch has done is enough to almost destroy the entire word, and even if everyone was somehow able to live though world altering events then it definitely hurt and damaged a lot of people. The amount of people who has had to go though hospitals ( and lord I know they would be packed as shit ) due to stuff ranging from minor to major injuries is enough to mentally scar an entire generation of people.

We’re not even going into how blowing up the fucking moon ( I PISSED ON THE MOON YOU IDIOT- ) affects the wave tides and therefore the aquatic life. The amount of forest fires, air pollution of any kind, the possible ocean pollution, and the excessive use of energy is simply not good for the environment and can really, and I do mean really, fuck up the entire ecosystem witch could cause a chain reaction that would make everything harder for everyone.

And no, I’m not gonna get into how this affects the economy cuz that’s an entire own thing and I don’t wanna open that up.

Has eggman outwardly attempted to kill? Maybe, if you count sonic. But other then that? Not really. Has he fucked over many cities and traumatized an entire two, maybe three, generation of people? Hell fuckin yes.

I really think sonic should just kill him at this point tbh lmao

Well the outright attempting murder is actually the blatant stuff in the games that can't be denied at all in all this. Eggman's intent and desire for murder has very clearly been there. He doesn't just threaten to destroy, crush, burn to ashes, make mincemeat out of, close one's eyes forever, etc, or say that he'll make the place their tomb, that it's their funeral, etc. Even though all of that very obviously means the same thing anyway, as they all very obviously imply and would result in death.

But he also even blatantly threatens to kill and tells people to die while outright using the specific words "kill" and "die." Just a few examples that I've posted to put here again are with Sonic, Amy, and Tails but there's a lot more obvious stuff too. That's how genuinely violent and murderous he really is and he even says it'll be his pleasure.

And he's not the only Sonic villain that's blatantly tried to kill people on screen (and visibly succeeded at times) so a lot of villains including Eggman being attempted murderers in the very least can't be denied.

But also the collateral damage of many of the villains' plans, especially Eggman's as they've had a catastrophic destructive impact on a global scale multiple times, would absolutely result in deaths. The worldwide and global catastrophies and severe environmental damage would definitely kill many and traumatize those that survive and result in horrible living conditions, which is also just as bad anyway whether people die or not but they definitely would too. So the fact that it's undermined and downplayed so hard either way is really wild.

He realistically has to have a body count of thousands or millions, even when it's just collateral and he's just totally apathetic towards it. Though he's also actually genuinely intended to wipe innocent people out on a large scale too, such as when he tried to blow up Station Square. And then of course he's directly attempting to murder of Sonic and co all the time, even the youngest children, which is also seriously fucked up and isn't any less just because he didn't succeed in those cases. They would've just been a few more numbers to his name.

Plus, even in Lost World, Eggman just carelessly and casually acknowledges that his plan to commit genocide on the Zeti (which is also another example of blatant intent to directly kill in itself) would also have collateral damage that would result in killing everything else around them too. And there's absolutely no way that it would be the only time that any of his actions ever would've resulted in such if he had gone through with it, after all the other mass destruction he has actually carried out on a global scale so many times lol

It really just seems to be a age rating thing in the sense that they can't outright state in words that they've actually succeeded in killing/that people are dead as a result from all that chaotic destruction, in the same way they can at least blatantly show it and the intentions and attempting of it. But that shouldn't automatically mean that none of the villains have ever actually killed anyone if it's not stated outright, it doesn't mean it's a story choice for the character just because of ratings. And realistically, there's no way it would make any sense at all for nobody to ever die.

[josenoelrobles]

Navigating the Storm: Surviving a Second Bankruptcy

Introduction "Bankruptcy is not the end; for many, it's a challenging beginning. Facing it twice? That's a testament to resilience and the start of a profound transformation." This bold statement invites us to rethink our perception of financial setbacks, especially when they strike more than once. Personal Experience: A Journey Through Double Bankruptcy How does the saying go? Full me once shame on you, full me twice shame on me. You would think that going through bankruptcy would be a hard enough experience that I won't do it again. You would also think that I should have learned my lesson and avoided what led me to that first bankruptcy in the first place. Not me; I am a slow learner because, within 5 years of filing my first bankruptcy, I am filing for my second one. And let me tell you is not fun at all. Putting aside the humiliation factor, the process of a second bankruptcy is awful. Especially when is so soon and so close to the first one. The skepticism and the judgment from the court and your creditors are on a completely different level. The scrutiny and the invasion of personal life are on a whole different spectrum. And to be fair, I don't blame them. I am a repeat offender so I deserve it. But still is not a good position to be in. Not to mention and perhaps the important thing, you fail your loved ones one more time. In my case, I have a wonderful wife whom I call my Super Womam. And I also have 6 amazing children. And when you set seal in the journey of entrepreneurship, even though you are the captain and perhaps you are doing all the work sometimes we forget that there are a lot of other people in the boat with us. And that is that ship sinks, they will drown with you. And that is what happened to me way too many times. Even though I have 2 bankruptcies, I have had a lot of businesses in the past that failed too. Every time that I failed and lost a business, not only me but my entire family had to pay the price and the consequences of my failures. Some of those consequences have been so damaging that I still trying to repair them. It is easy to justify our behavior and our actions by saying that everything that we are doing is for our families and to better them and their future. When in reality we are doing it for us. Because we are prideful and because we want to prove something and in many cases to people that can care less about us. But that is a topic for another blog. The great thing about it is that our governmental laws created these bankruptcy laws so we have an option in case we fail. Trust me, if you can avoid going into bankruptcy please do so. But the fear of failing shouldn't t be a reason why you don't try to pursue your business dreams. Having these laws in place should be an indicator that there is a chance that you will fail. That is why they exist. A lot of other people have failed in the past. But this should not discourage you. Use this as a motivation to pursue your dreams. In the same way that so many fail, so many others succeed. It is up to us which statistics are we going to be part of. The only way that you can actually fail is when you stop trying. To me, my past failures I don't see them as failures. I see them as lessons that need to be learned in order to move to the next level. Painful, and humiliating, of course, but those lessons have made me stronger and wiser, or at least I like to believe that 😅. I am already on the books of those who failed too many times. Now I am the books of those who never give up. And soon, God willing, I will be in the books of those who succeeded. Data: Insights Into Bankruptcy Trends and Impacts Statistics show that a significant percentage of businesses that file for bankruptcy once are likely to do so again. Research from the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts indicates that about 16% of businesses that file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy are repeat filers. This suggests that the challenges leading to the first bankruptcy may not have been fully addressed or new challenges have arisen that were not anticipated (Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts, 2020). The Problem: Recurring Financial Crisis The core issue in recurring bankruptcies often lies in inadequate risk management, insufficient financial buffers, and an underestimation of market volatility. For many, the root causes of the first bankruptcy, such as high operational costs or poor strategic planning, remain unaddressed, leading to subsequent financial failures. The Solution: Building a Stronger Financial Foundation To avoid the cycle of financial distress, consider these practical steps: - Thorough Post-Bankruptcy Analysis: Conduct a comprehensive review of what led to each bankruptcy to identify and address underlying issues. - Enhanced Financial Education: Regularly update your financial knowledge and skills, focusing on cash flow management, budgeting, and forecasting. - Strategic Planning and Diversification: Diversify income streams and continuously update business plans to adapt to market changes. Implementing these strategies can help individuals and businesses not only recover from bankruptcy but also build a resilient financial future. Conclusion: Turning Adversity Into Opportunity In conclusion, experiencing bankruptcy twice can be both daunting and enlightening. It presents an opportunity to reassess, learn, and rebuild with a stronger, more informed approach. The key to turning these difficult experiences into success stories lies in proactive management and continuous learning. Read the full article

[noahjo]

Seven Samurai

This is my favorite movie we have watch, and is probably one of my favorite movies of all time. From the story to the characters, the emotional scenes, and the scenes of pure epicness Kurosawa Akira put together what many people claim to be a masterpiece. And I agree.

The setting is 16th-century Japan and follows seven samurai who are hired to protect a small farming village from bandits that steal their food and kidnap their women. One of the first things I noticed is how immersive and grand this movie is in comparison to Kurosawa’s other works we have watched in class. One of the opening shots is this amazing establishing shot from the mountains that showcases the village the majority of the movie will be taking place in. The peasants immediately draw the empathy of the viewer as they are shown down to the ground on their knees dreading the eventual attack of the bandits. The camera remains on top, showing how small and weak they are in comparison to the bandits that are shown from below the mountains they emerge from. This gives the impression that these bandits are higher, stronger, and “people” who are beyond the villager's control. As the peasants wallow in their situation, one of them named Rikichi, wants to fight back. Once given the go-ahead to hire samurai from the elder instead of coming up with a deal with the bandits. Rikichi and a few other peasants travel to find any number of samurai to help protect them in exchange for lodging and food.

The rest of the plot of the movie is very simple, they succeed in hiring samurai and they fight back and win. It’s tried and true in many cases, however, this is the first film to do it and to do it really really well. The characters are what shine in this movie, and how their worldview shapes their actions. All seven samurai are spectacular in their own way, and we are given time to understand each one of them. Of course, some are more memorable than others, but I don’t believe the movie would nearly feel the same without all of them. The samurai that ties the movie together and gets the ball rolling is the old Ronin Kambe. Although his past is kept a mystery, we know he is a good man of character with nothing left to live for except to help others. This is a man to admire and his character is what I believe to have convinced some of the samurai from even joining this suicide mission, with Gorobei outright stating this. The stand-out samurai ends up being Kambe, Katsushiro (Kambe new disciple), Kyuzo(Master swordsman), and funny Kikuchiyo. As you spend more time with the seven and observe their personalities, you can tell these are men set apart from the samurai who rejected Rikichi. I believe that’s what makes the death of over half of them in battle that much more heartbreaking. They didn’t have to fight, this wasn’t their battle and yet they did. Kambe being one of the 3 surviving samurai states that the peasants got victory and that the samurai had lost. I found this to be a strange outlook on the results at first, they had succeeded at their mission to protect the village and free them from the bandits. But in the end, they are samurai, they will live on to fight again while the peasants will live in peace. They gained nothing in the end.

The movie was awesome despite the runtime and the characters will live on in my memory, 10/10.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

[teawaffles]

Forbidden Games: Chapter 7

One day, three assassins had gathered for a gunfight.

The three of them had varying levels of skill with a gun. The first assassin had perfect aim. The second could land two shots in three. The last was only able to land one shot in three.

They were to take turns choosing one of the other two to shoot at. In order to compensate for their differences in skill level, they would start from the most inexperienced assassin, who could only land one shot in three.

Now if you were this person, what would you consider the most reasonable thing to do?

The right answer is—— to fire straight into the air, without aiming at either opponent.

Ordinarily, one would think to target the most dangerous assassin, who could land every shot. But if they were struck down, then on the next turn, you would find yourself in the sights of the remaining opponent, who could land two shots in three.

As such, if you were to avoid shooting either party, the next player would definitely target the most dangerous opponent. If they succeed, the subsequent turn would cycle back to you. Hence the best course of action is to shoot no one at the start.

An action that seems meaningless at first glance, may in truth be the most logical choice.

This was a paradox —— the gap between logic and intuition.

“While there are some slight differences, our game bears a striking resemblance to this story, which is why I chose to apply it today. Although, I admit I may have been a bit too dramatic when aiming the gun at myself.”

A contradiction for a contradiction. Saying that, a small smile rose on William’s face. It was the smile of a demon.

For a moment, the extent to which he’d misjudged William had made Alan break out in a cold sweat. But he quickly regained his composure.

“I get it — you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. But now, what will you do? The chance that your gun will fire in this turn is two-in-five. As for me, with one bullet fired and two left, my chances are the same. We’re even now.”

“But that’s not true. I believe you know very well that on your next turn, your gun will fire,” William asserted.

“……What?”

William brushed his thumb over the revolver in his hand.

“It appears that the guns we were given have been rigged, such that the cylinders will stop at predetermined positions when they are spun. These positions have been marked with scratches. In other words, this game has been a lie from the very beginning.”

William looked at Alan, who was in a daze, as he continued.

“That’s why you were able to add two more bullets to your gun with no hesitation whatsoever. You knew that even if Mr Holmes were to face off with five rounds, the gun would never fire.”

He then struck his index finger against the table.

Alan had been thoroughly shocked when the secret behind the guns was revealed. But now, he retaliated in full force.

“That’s right. These guns are for cheats. Why wouldn’t I use them in this game? Counting from the chamber where the cylinder stops, my revolver has three consecutive chambers loaded. But only the last two chambers of your gun are filled. ——Do you get it? This means your gun will not fire this turn, and on my turn, mine will definitely fire. The game has already been decided.”

“I’ll throw that question back to you. Do you understand what it means for us to know about this trick?”

Somewhat stunned by his opponent’s lack of awareness, William proceeded to explain the situation with eloquence.

“In our previous match, I said something to Mr Holmes. ‘Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.’”

There was another meaning behind those awkward words. “What it meant was, ‘Advance by two chambers’. After that, Mr Holmes violently loaded the gun —— so much so, that he had scratched the cylinder too.”

Alan covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his own gun.

“……No way—”

“Because the two of us were given new revolvers, and you chose to use the gun from our previous match, you are now holding a revolver with two chambers’ worth of scratch marks added. Although the previous scratches remained…… since it was Mr Holmes who made them, I trust that the new markings were able to fool your accomplices.”

With no need for any further explanation, William fell silent.

In a game of Russian roulette where the number of rounds loaded increases over time, Sherlock had unexpectedly done something rash.

Alan had taken his sudden change in attitude to be mere desperation. But in reality, Sherlock had received William’s message, and while maintaining his composure, he proceeded to act as if he had no regard for his own life. By doing so, his violence in loading the gun, as well as his choice to fill the cylinder to its upper limit, were all interpreted as the products of a meltdown — and they were able to avoid any suspicion that they had seen through his trick.

However, this method of using Alan’s own trick against him was not foolproof. Although they had added new scratches to the cylinder, the original marks still remained. On close inspection, it might be possible to distinguish them.

With that in mind, Alan turned to face his accomplices behind him. But they said nothing, perhaps out of confusion. They had no confidence that they’d loaded the bullets in the right chambers. A sense of unease began to swell within Alan.

If Sherlock’s trap had succeeded, the positions of the bullets in Alan’s gun would now be off.

His revolver had six chambers. Counting from where the cylinder would stop, the first three chambers were supposed to be filled. Now with the markings “shifted” two positions forward, it would be that the first, and last two chambers were filled instead.

Since one round had already been fired, only the other two bullets remained. He was essentially in the same situation as William. In that case, as William had the first move, he would be able to fire on Alan one turn earlier.

In short, in this perverse version of Russian roulette, Alan had employed rigged revolvers, his accomplices had mistaken the positions of the scratch marks, and William had elected to go first. With these three conditions in place, William’s victory had been secured.

“What kind of joke is this……”

From the start, the game’s outcome had been set in stone.

That had originally been Alan’s plan. But William took advantage of it and turned the tables on him.

Despite being in a position of absolute superiority, victory had escaped him a second time. Alan’s blood was boiling.

“A—Again! I will surely win if we play again!”

William put his revolver down, and shook his head in pity.

“Unfortunately, there will be no rematch. Both of us no longer have the time to humour someone like you,” he replied curtly.

Alan lost his patience and slammed the table.

“Do you look down on everyone, you brat?!”

“All you do is envy others, and that is why you have lost yourself,” William said, with the air of an educator.

Before Alan could make sense of that, the sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked emanated from the floor.

“——Don’t move.”

Then, the fallen detective staggered to his feet. Even though he had been shot in the abdomen, his face betrayed no trace of pain, instead wearing the grin of a child whose mischief had succeeded. In his hand, was a fully-loaded revolver.

“Holmes, why you bastard—”

“I don’t feel like explaining myself right now. Anyway, all of you raise your hands like grown men,” Sherlock ordered sharply, amidst their confusion.

Perhaps they were caught completely off guard, but Alan’s accomplices put up no struggle as they timidly raised both hands. The young man who had been held hostage edged quietly away from them.

William rose from his seat in a leisurely manner.

“From the start, our goal was to create this exact scenario. You have no intention of giving up no matter how many times your opponent wins. In that case, we should overturn the entire stage. To that end, this game, which allowed Mr Holmes to be eliminated by faking his death, presented the perfect opportunity.”

Just as William had planned, his act of near-suicide right from the outset had thrown them off balance, such that no one paid any notice to the fallen Sherlock. Then Sherlock came back to life with perfect timing, providing the key to their counterattack.

With their plan a roaring success, William and Sherlock were brimming with satisfaction.

“You two……”

Alan glared at them with hateful eyes.

“Oh, you’re not going admit defeat at this stage, aren’t you? That might actually be a good idea. Since all of you outnumber us, if you all take your guns out right now, you could certainly kill us. But Mr Holmes is sure to take a few of you down with him too. Is anyone prepared to be one of those ‘few’?”

“Now this is a genuinely fair and exciting challenge. Come on, who wants to join the game?”

Against the two of them, who were proudly putting their lives on the line, not a single person made a move.

In the end, the ‘equality’ that Alan and his accomplices had put forward, was nothing more than a hollow notion bragged about from within their circle of safety.

Having truly fought for his life and come out standing, to these men, William directed a gentle smile.

“Since it seems no one wishes to participate, ——this is game over.”

T/N: You may have noticed that the explanations of the trick are somewhat awkward (haha). It wasn’t explained 100% clearly in the Japanese text — I took a while to get it myself — so I decided to drop more hints within the text, rather than do so in a footnote. I hope it made sense for you!

[neuxue]

Hi, neuxue......If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite “villains” (or antagonists) in MXTX works? Whether it’s a final boss like Jun Wu or more of a side character like Xue Yang. (Whether you want to do a ranking or just write out in no particular order)...Sorry if you've answered this question before....

If I don't mind??? If I don't mind? Please, my friend, you give me an opportunity to talk about favourite villains and I am yours for as long as you'll listen.

Not going to attempt to order them so we'll just go by story:

CQL

Xue Yang - characters who don't realise what they want, or that they've found a way to have it, until the moment when they destroy it!! Who destroy it because on some level they don't truly believe they can have it at all, and because it's easier to lose something when you can convince yourself you were always going to, and that it was your own choice. The whole time-bomb of Yi City just wrecks me.

I'm also generally here for his brand of competence and mercuriality - the knife-edged playfulness that doesn't quite mask a deeper darkness, the tendency to dance just a little too close to the edge with the particular carefree abandon of one who cannot imagine living beyond youth.

Finally... oh man do I even want to try to articulate this? So, he has several traits that often get used as a shorthand for not just ‘evil’ but ‘inherently evil’. Which... frustrates me. But with Xue Yang... yes, he's cast as a villain and yes he loses everything and yes he dies alone and unmourned... but there's a sense of 'it didn't have to go this way'. If the cart driver had been kinder; if his capability had been put to some use other than ‘weapon’. Or that moment in Yi City where he seems to delight just as much in cheating at a silly game of choosing sticks as he does in tricking Xiao Xingchen into killing people. This idea that there could have been another path. (And also, via Yi City, that he is not... inherently unlovable). His story ends in tragedy, but it’s not framed, at least the way I (choose to) read it, as ‘your story can only end in tragedy, because of the way you are’. It gives the option to read it as ‘you are not inherently monstrous’.

(Which then almost feeds back into the tragedy of the first point, because it’s only there in a kind of meta sense: Xue Yang himself? only ever receives the you are a weapon, you are a monster, that is all you can be side of it. Oh man okay I’ll stop here before I get pulled into a whole essay on this because suddenly I want to).

Jin Guangyao - I love a schemer! I love a pragmatist! I love ruthless competence beneath an inscrutable smile! I love characters who will tolerate nothing less than absolute perfection in themselves because they have learned the hard way that it’s the only possible way to survive. Characters who are not exempt from their own ruthlessness, their own cost-benefit analysis. Characters who have learned from their world that happiness must be sacrificed at the altar of survival, and who will do so with heartbreak but without hesitation when necessary. The only way is forward; to look back is to fail, but the irony is they can still never outrun their pasts.

Also he’s another one where there’s such a sense of it didn’t have to end this way. So many points at which things could have been different, so many alternate versions in which his capability could have been channelled towards a different goal, if the goal carved into his bones didn’t have to be survive, in a world that will try to make that impossible. 

I love villains and antagonists of all stripes and moralities, but in this instance what I love is a character who doesn’t want to be a villain, doesn’t want their hands stained with blood, doesn’t want to hurt those they love... but they do not see a choice. 

Wen Zhuliu - he’s highly competent and wears fingerless gloves; what more do you want from me?

Honestly though, he fascinates me. In part it’s the fact that we just don’t get much interiority to him, and only one exchange of dialogue that really suggests his motives, but we also get these little moments, that collectively build this sense of a kind of... lawful neutral, I suppose? Not even villain-by-necessity so much as villain-by-...debt? loyalty? But he also so clearly has such a strong sense of honour, and I just love trying to reconcile all of those pieces into a cohesive whole. 

The other thing that really gets me about him is his extraordinary power and how it’s regarded - especially when juxtaposed with Wei Wuxian’s. In both cases you have a single individual who holds a terrifying and mostly unique power that threatens or pushes the boundaries of their whole society and world. Wei Wuxian commands ghosts without a sword; Wen Zhuliu can extinguish someone’s power with his hands. But, crucially, the difference between them seems to be... that Wei Wuxian is a wildcard; Wen Zhuliu is leashed. And so I have to wonder once again at the strength of that leash, and at what would happen if Wen Zhuliu, like Wei Wuxian, decided to rebel. And in that whole question lives in this really interesting space of... what is it people truly fear? The power? The wielder? That person’s ability to choose? The uncertainty of what they will choose? The possibility of them realising they can?

***

TGCF

He Xuan - I mean the theme here obviously is competence, and He Xuan has a killer aesthetic to go with it, but mostly it’s just... the way his whole character is an exploration of revenge, and the line between vengeance and justice, and the question inherent in the irony of... throwing away the very thing you wanted vengeance for, in order to exact that vengeance.

(And also the whole cycle-of-revenge in doing unto another what was once done unto you, in the process of exacting that vengeance).

I’m just. Unbelievably here for a good betrayal story, and this one has it all! The intimacy! The self-betrayal! The emptiness and hunger!

And while with Xue Yang I love that moment of realising what he wants, or what he’s losing, only in the moment when he destroys it... with He Xuan what I love is that he goes into this, in so many ways, knowing what he’s doing. This is not spontaneity; this is the ultimate premeditation. He knows what he has, in his guise as a heavenly official. He knows, intimately, the person he is betraying. He has given great thought to the how of that betrayal. 

(Is it worth it, in the end?)

(After all, he’s still here)

Bai Wuxiang - one of the dynamics that will wreck me pretty much every time is what I like to call ‘intimate enemies’. Enemies-to-lovers can fit under that umbrella, but it’s a broader umbrella than just that. The idea of characters who (either one-sided or reciprocally) know each other so deeply, and can wield that knowledge to wound. The awful gentleness and precision of holding a knife to the core of someone’s identity. 

That, plus the identity fuckery in general. The way Bai Wuxiang frames himself as Xie Lian’s mirror, and the way he then reflects and warps and tugs at those pieces of Xie Lian’s self and name and will, trying to shape them in his image, but so gently. The way he talks to Xie Lian! The way he strokes his hair as he stabs him! It’s just so much, okay!

So yeah, a lot of it is that I’m just very into the highkey fucked-up dynamic he has with Xie Lian. But also Bai Wuxiang’s own story hits me in a kind of... if you’ll forgive a Wheel of Time reference: betrayer-of-hope betrayed-by-hope kind of way. That he tried so hard once, only for it to fall to ruin in his hands, and now he watches another try (and fail!) as he once did. And the way he seems to, in trying to mould Xie Lian’s present to his own past, be searching for a kind of... vindication? A confirmation of that inevitability? That of course he failed, that he could never have succeeded, because this is the nature of humanity, and it is not worth saving, and so his attempts weren’t failure. 

But the thing with that is: it’s a lose-lose situation. If he succeeds and Xie Lian fails, yes, it gives him that sense of ‘there was never another way, and no point trying to find one’ but is that really... winning? Is finding vindication in despair truly a success? And yet if he fails and Xie Lian succeeds, then does that not also feel like a sword to the heart: that it wasn’t inevitable, and that means he has to come to terms with his own failure and the heartbreak it wrought?

[haila-wetyios]

#6 Onerous

“Well? Try moving around!”

The sleeves were very loose, but then again, this was after a lifetime’s worth of ‘normal’ sleeves. The waist was fairly firm and keeping the entire robe in place despite how loose it had looked when not worn. It was good that this one came with boots of the same shade of red and gold rather than the so famous clogs from the east. And the staff… It wasn’t an eastern one by all means, and with this new arrangement, it was lesser than her true potential, but the materials used in it and the quality of the wood were more than enough to make up for it until a new one could be found. 

Around Ileana two men were watching her spin around slowly as she continued to have a look at her new… Everything. 

It wasn’t her birthday, no. And it wasn’t a special day either. These were merely preparations after her brother’s plans had been set in motion, of him watching over his crew and rewarding all those that had worked hard in response to his efforts to ‘balance’ everyone’s strengths. 

In Ileana’s case, her reward had been a set of clothes meant for her trade, albeit altered to resemble eastern robes instead.

“Did you try out how strong your spells are now with the new gear?” one of the men with a gentle voice asked, the first mate, who for some reason still refused to remove his damn wide mage esque hat. It always made Ileana wonder how he could shoot so accurately while wearing that. 

“I did. I also followed the instructions and did the finishing touches based off the numbers.” the young lass answered as she finally stopped spinning around. The robes looked a tad big on her if one was to be honest. The tips of the long sleeves were touching the ground, and her boots were barely visible. But then again, there was room for growth still. 

“Oh? How much are the estimates if you did your calculations right?” her brother, a roegadyn with a serious problem with mathematics being applied to everything, asked her. 

Math and pirates didn’t blend too well. And the entire crew hated that about him. But the results wouldn’t lie either. He knew what he was doing for the most part. Ileana didn’t seem to mind this at all. If something could be done better, she would always advocate for it. 

“Estimates are at least one thousand eighthundred.” the girl informed her adoptive brother. But of course to her, those numbers didn’t exactly make much sense when applied to real life. Just gibberish to report after having done her homework well.

“But… I broke the training dummy…” she then admitted with a slight sense of guilt. Those were hard to come across on land. Or at least, the special kind that could move about to practice with almost live targets. 

The results though, had both the first mate and the captain look at each other slowly in pure bafflement. It was within calculations that she could hit that hard with a single basic bolt spell now that they’d given her the right gear. But it didn’t remove the shock all together. She was still so young after all. But the adjustments spoke for themselves, they’d nearly changed her completely from the poor whelp that could only do mediocre heals and boosting at best. 

[HA, At this rate she’ll succeed y’all soon!] a rugged voice called out from their shared linkpearl. Big Paul had been listening to the exchange while already at sea. 

“Oh shut yer trap! No one’s succeeding after any of us. We’re staying for good.” Defined Sea immediately answered with irritation at his quartermaster. Today’s voyage allowed for groups to set off at different times and locations and still assemble well on time at their destination.

[I’ll shut my trap when I want to!! Which is to say, when the fuck are you morons getting over here?] Paul’s voice rang once more through the pearl. 

[The newbies are gonna get blown to smithereens if you don’t guide them the right way around those islands. There’s too many creatures clumped together on the way there].

“Ah but we have a weapon, my dear braindead idiot.” Defined Sea immediately chimed in. But then… He turned to Ileana whom had been still listening despite her brief moment of glee of finally being just a little stronger. 

“Sis, you know the way to the Summer Islands aye? Enough to evade that army of marine shite.” he then asked her. 

Ileana merely nodded with her hands intertwined together. The crew never took her through deep dungeons and ocean voyages, but it didn’t mean she didn’t know her way around vessels, especially the smaller ones that had been developed around these parts. 

“I’ve made the trip at least three to four times. But.. They’re very far. Not as far as a trip between the three cities though.” she stated with a slow nod. 

“Well? Time to get going! GO GO GO GO GO” he instructed her, with the poor lass merely giving a small salute before she too, was on her way to the port. Several small vessels were lined up, powered by portable engines that could propel them faster than a large ship. This was the local specialty was after all. 

“...............”

“With this, she’ll be fine when it’s time for her to go back to the mines.” Bastian commented, crossing his arms with a certain degree of concern. 

“Aye. Strong enough to go on her own to the lower levels. And get more maps dropped by all the kiddos that go and get themselves killed by those annoying moles there.” Defined Sea answered as the pair watched the lass sail away rather quickly followed by a few other small vessels from the crew. 

Bastian fell silent at this, humming for a little until the group was out of view, they’d most likely join in the third wave of vessels. 

“Between working in those mines for a chance at valuable scraps and doing voyages to deep hidden dungeons, I wonder which task is more onerous….” he finally commented, seemingly giving this predicament a lot of thought. 

“Working those mines for sure. The soil to the entrance might as well be deep red from all the kiddos that start there until a crew picks them up.” the captain admitted, not adding any more, nor backpedaling any less. 

They all had to start somewhere, but that somewhere was the beginning of the end for almost all the aspiring sailor’s careers. 

[sadoeuphemist]

They had fitted together a wheeled cart for the old knight, large enough to carry him comfortably, but not so large that he would be rattled about when the wheels jostled over the stones. They had harnessed the cart to the knight’s horse, and though normally no knightly steed would deign to drag a load behind it like a mere beast of burden, Sir Percival’s horse was as grayed as he was, and so trotted along placidly as Sir Percival sat propped up in the back, his armor warmed by the sun.

“My final, and most glorious quest,” he proclaimed, staring ahead with clouded eyes. He could make out light and darkness, the shape of a tree, but not the leaves or branches on it. He was looking at the horizon, and at the blue expanse of sky. “You are most fortunate, my lad, to be witness to this, the final day of a long and illustrious life.”

"Yes, Sir,” his squire said. The squire was a lad of about fourteen, walking ahead and leading the horse by the bridle. He had been picked by lot to accompany Sir Percival to his death, and, much like the horse, had accepted his burden rather meekly. He had polished Sir Percival’s armor the night before, fitted it piece by piece onto the frail old body. Now he walked steadily, his shoulders slumped as if there was a harness weighting them down. He had been silent for much of the journey, but at Sir Percival’s words took the opportunity to speak: “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, I’ve heard of your many deeds, the, uh, the d-dragons slain, the - the knights defeated, and so on, and this quest, Sir, I don’t know very much about it, and, um...”

“Yes, yes, the quest!” said Sir Percival, trying to sit upright in the cart and only succeeding in rocking it slightly. His horse snorted and shifted its weight. “It’s the only quest, really. Every warrior slain, every army defeated, every drop of blood spilled - all hollow striving in service of the single quest above all else.” He waved his hand, his armor creaking, and beckoned the boy closer. The squire dropped back to listen. “The Grail, m’lad! The Holy Grail! The chalice that caught the blood of our savior Jesus Christ! The only thing worth questing for in all the world!”

Sir Percival settled back in the cart, his breathing heavy, his white sideburns quivering. The squire hesitated, hovering over him, and let out a sigh of relief as Sir Percival seemed to relax again. The squire trotted forward, once again taking the horse’s bridle in his hand.

“I had my chance at it, you know,” Sir Percival said, after some time. “Back when I was young.”

“Sir?” the squire said.

“It was ... My goodness, how long ago was it by now?” Sir Percival shook his head. “At my age, one tends to lose track of time. Not just the now, you see, but all the things before it, all jumbled up together.” Even behind the cataracts his eyes were distant now, dreamy. “I had my chance at it, in any case, made it all the way into the Keeper’s castle. The Keeper of the Grail, you know. All full of wondrous things. This beautiful young maiden, fair and rosy-cheeked. All these beautiful young people. A lance, a lance that never stopped bleeding. A wound that never heals. A lance in your hand that cries for blood, the wound always as fresh as the day your lance first plunged into flesh, the red red reminder of every quest and every kill -”

His lips tremored wordlessly for a moment, and then Sir Percival shook his head. “I had to ask the Question, you see. And I had been taught back then to not ask questions. And so I missed my chance.”

“Sir?” the squire said hesitantly. “The - the question?”

“The Question!” said Sir Percival, his spirits suddenly restored. “Yes, devilishly clever, that! Other, lesser quests would have you answer a riddle to succeed. But! If you’re given the riddle, the answer only follows from that, doesn’t it? It’s a simple matter of eliminating all the answers that don’t fit, and then you’re left with the only one that does. Childishly simple!

“But! If you’re given nothing, and expected to ask the Question first, what then? Oh-ho!” said Sir Percival, smiling broadly and revealing the few remaining teeth among his gums. “Now that’s a challenge few knights can ever conquer!”

“And ... what is the Question, Sir?”

“Well, it’s ... Obviously it’s, ah...” Sir Percival furrowed up his face, sinking back so that his head lay against the cart, squinting at the sun. “Give me a moment, m’lad, I’m not as young as I used to be. Just need a moment to think, that’s all.” Sir Percival yawned loudly, his eyelids fluttering. “Just go on, m’lad,” he mumbled, sinking into sleep. “Keep moving. Just a moment’s rest. I’m sure I’ll think of it. In time...”

...

“Sir?” came the squire’s voice, high and anxious. “Sir! I do believe we’re here!”

Sir Percival snapped awake, the blackness receding back so quickly that for a moment he was lost, and then could not remember what he had been dreaming. They had crossed the border of the kingdom quite a while back, and now a foreboding castle towered over them, its walls of black and battered stone. The ground around it had been torn up in times past by charging hooves and cannon fire, pockmarked with splintered lances and arrowheads and shards of rusting metal, and a ragged banner flew from atop the castle’s highest tower. But Sir Percival saw none of that.

In his ears rang only the sound of rushing water - a river, the sound of it babbling gaily against the stones, the coolness in the air, and Sir Percival squinted furiously, seeing the sparkling curve of the river, and what might have been the shape of a man crouched against it.

“Ahoy!” he yelled out gleefully. “Ahoy over there!”

It was indeed a man, weary-looking, gray-haired, though not nearly as decrepit as Sir Percival, sitting by the riverside with a fishing rod in hand, its thin line swaying with the current. “Ahoy yourself!” he yelled back, irritated. “We’re not at sea, you old coot!” Sir Percival continued looking on with a delighted grin.

The fisherman sighed. He was wearing royal robes, though worn and patched, and with a gesture that suggested he was used to being obeyed he motioned to the squire. “Well, get the old dunderhead over here, then! We might as well get this over with!”

The squire glanced at Sir Percival for confirmation, and then led the old horse forward gingerly, trying to navigate it so that Sir Percival would be next to the old fisherman without the horse splashing into the river, and then finally gave up and unharnessed the cart. The fisherman said nothing through all of this, staring moodily into the river, where not a single fish was troubling his line. Sir Percival was simply grinning, nodding on, gesturing impatiently, as the squire tried to brace him up from underneath his armpit, easing him out of the cart. “Um,” the squire said, glancing at the fisherman. “Um, if I could get a little help...?”

“Sat down here this morning,” the fisherman grumbled, rubbing at his thigh, and the squire could see that it was withered beneath the robes. “Nothing’s getting me up until it’s time to go back in. You’re on your own.”

It took a good deal of clanking and a great deal of effort on both their parts, but finally the squire settled Sir Percival beside the fisherman on the bank.

“Ah, there we go,” Sir Percival sighed, clapping his gauntleted hands down on his tassets. He was breathing heavily. “Been a while, hasn’t it, you old bastard?” he said jovially, elbowing the fisherman. “I tell you, Pelleham, bet you thought you were done with me back then, all those - those wonders in your castle dazzling me with their sorcerous charms -”

“That was my father,” the fisherman said impatiently. “And he’s up there in the castle.” He glanced at the highest tower, its face of scarred stone. “Doesn’t even get out of bed these days. Just lies there, day in, day out, wasting away. I’m Pelles, you remember? Pelles. Was barely even a man, first time you came.”

“Oh.” Sir Percival’s face folded up in wrinkles, his eyes small, his mouth open in a small black semicircle of bewilderment as he leaned in uncomfortably close, trying to make out Pelles’ profile. “Are you - are you sure you’re not - ? You sound just like him, as if - as if it hadn’t been a day - No, no, of course you’re not...” Sir Percival shook his head, slumping back on the riverbank, looking out dazedly at the currents rushing on. “It’s been years, of course. Decades. He was old when I first came here.” He looked hopefully at Pelles. “I don’t suppose I could see him...?”

“Just told you,” the fisherman snapped. “He’s gravely ill. Definitely not taking any visitors.”

“Ah. Of course.” Sir Percival looked down at his lap, folding his hands together.

“And you,” said Pelles. “What are you doing still gallivanting around at your age?” He ran a scornful eye across Sir Percival, the polished armor hanging on his withered frame. “Let me guess, yet another quest. A final quest. For you to perish in pursuit of some noble goal.”

“Yes, yes, exactly,” said Sir Percival, but all the energy had gone out of him. He was slouching in his rigid armor, the edge of his gorget cutting into his chin, though he seemed to barely notice. “We were ...” He smiled toothlessly, his voice gentle. “It sounded so glorious, really, when I proposed it to the King. The one quest I’d never fulfilled. It’s the only thing, isn’t it? The Grail? The only thing that matters in the world...”

“You knights and your damned quests,” the fisherman muttered. He bobbed the pole in his hand, letting the line waver. “What’s it accomplish in the end, hm?” He painfully extended his legs from beneath his robes, rubbed at his bare feet and let them soak in the water. “I spend my days fishing now.” He tugged at his line disgruntledly. “It’s about as productive.”

“No, no,” said Sir Percival dreamily. “You weren’t there for the old days, or perhaps you were still too young, then. Riding across the countryside, around every corner another quest awaiting us. An evil knight, a young damsel in distress...”

The man snorted. “You save a damsel, and then she’s safe to be kidnapped away again. You kill a man, and then you got to kill all his compatriots. When’s it end, eh, Percival? When’s it fucking end?” 

“Well. of course it’s the...” Sir Percival shook his head. “Of course that’s the point of striving, it’s the nobility of the struggle...”

“You conquer a castle, and always there’s a new one just beyond your borders,” the fisherman insisted, jabbing a bony finger. “You do what one man can, and your king sits up in his castle playing his games, and the world bangs on all around you. And in the end it’s just the Grail, the Grail, the Grail, the one thing you’ve never been able to attain.”

“I...” Sir Percival ran a gauntleted hand across his face, shuddering involuntarily from the touch of metal. “I’ve done everything I could, certainly, but ... It’s the youth, of course!” he said, turning stiffly to his squire, his face suddenly beatific. “We do what we can. We make the world as good as we can. And then it’s our - it’s the children, of course, who grow up and keep the quest alive...”

Pelles barely glanced up at the boy, snorting. “I’m my father’s son. As are you. And the old wars, and the new ones, they’re all the same butchery. We’ve both been around far longer than we should. Seen the change of ages. And it’s gotten worse, if anything. All the old atrocities, without even the idealism to temper ‘em.

“Boy!” he said, and snapped his fingers at the squire. “Look around you. Behold my kingdom, in all its tattered glory. What do you think of it?”

The squire stood awkwardly, knees locked, flushed with the sudden attention. “Oh! Uh, I don’t -” He cast his eyes around the scarred landscape littered with the remnants of battle, the shrapnel gouged into the soil. Riddles are simple, Sir Percival had said, eliminate all answers that don’t fit, but in his anxious state no single answer was winnowed from the chaff. “I - I don’t really see anything remarkable about it, Sir...?”

“Y’see!” said Pelles, a nasty grin on his face. “It’s the world we’ve made for ‘em. He’s too young to know any different.”

“No, no, no, no,” Sir Percival said, struggling to shift himself in his armor. “Listen to me, m’lad. If I’ve taught you anything let me teach you this. Despite all the world, despite every brutality in it, in the end we can still find salvation! The Grail -!”

“The Grail!” Pelles shrieked. “Men warring for the Grail, slaughtering one another for the Grail, throwing their lives away in an endless fruitless struggle just for the hopes of finally getting heir hands on the damned Grail -!”

“No!” Sir Percival boomed, and pushed himself upward, the metal joints of his armor locking into place, and for a moment he was standing gloriously on his own two feet again, a shining monument to knighthood as they both stared at him in wonder. “It’s the only quest worth doing,” he proclaimed, his words coming out in a rush, “I swear to you this. We must believe in a redemption through blood. In the promise of salvation -” and then his knees were giving way, the ground rushing up like a great black mountain, and he toppled forward in a violent clash of steel.

“Sir Percival!” the squire screamed, and rushed to him, struggling to turn him over on his back. “Help! Help me!’ he yelled to Pelles.

“I told you!” Pelles yelled back. “I’ve sat down and there’s no getting me up again without a retinue of attendants!” He was dragging himself up the bank regardless, his fishing pole abandoned, as the squire managed to roll Sir Percival over, hovering anxiously his ashen face.

“Heavy,” Sir Percival said, struggling to lift an arm. It might as well have been an anvil. “It’s never - it’s never weighed a thing before, the armor, never noticed I was wearing it -”

“You fool,” hissed Pelles, crawling laboriously to lean over him. “You stupid, stubborn old fool.”

“Oh,” said Sir Percival, a slow smile drifting across his face. “Pelleham. My dear Pelleham. There you are.” His head drifted languidly in Pelles’ direction. “There’s something I was going to ask you, but I can’t at the moment remember what it is.”

“It’ll be all right, Sir,” his squire said urgently, clutching his gauntleted hand. “You just - There’s the castle, and you can -”

“Lad,” said Sir Percival, turning his head back to face the sky. “Lad. Lad. What’s your - ? Your name, it’s something like that, Lad, it’s -”

“Galahad, Sir,” he said, stifling back a sob.

“Of course. Yes. Galahad.” He was seeing brightness. He was seeing light. “My good and faithful squire. Your first quest. And how well you have performed. It’s there, the Grail, right within your reach...”

Sir Percival’s eyes were wide and sightless, and his mouth hung open soundlessly. Galahad fumbled with the armor, unbuckling the straps that he had practiced, struggling to reach the heart beneath the metal chestplate. He shoved the steel aside, pressing an ear to Sir Percival’s hairy and sunken chest. After a few moments he sunk back, his face blank. “He’s dead.”

Pelles was sprawled out on the ground, grimacing in pain, and pushed himself up to watch his fishing rod floating away in the river. Sir Percival’s old nag trotted over, looking down at the body of its master, and gazed off distracted again at some shrubbery in the distance.

“Doddering old idiot,” Pelles muttered. The black castle cast a shadow into the sky, a monolith looking down on them. “At least you’ve got the cart if you want to drag him all the way back. We could bury him here, if you like,” he added, after a moment’s contemplation. “He’s got enough of a history with this place. I don’t think he’d be unhappy with that.”

He looked up, waiting for the squire’s response, and saw that Galahad was busy unbuckling Sir Percival’s belt, hoisting up the scabbard that hung on it. Around the boy’s waist the sword dragged against the ground, so he looped it across his chest instead, the belt going over one shoulder.

“What’re you going to do with that?” Pelles said.

Galahad awkwardly drew the sword from its scabbard, balancing the naked blade with both hands as if he had never held a sword before, pointing its tip towards Pelles, and then let it lower to the ground. “I want an answer,” Galahad said.

Pelles sighed, massaging his aching thigh, his leg stretched out upon the damp soil. “Go on, then.”

“The Grail,” said Galahad, his voice firm. “What’s the damn thing even good for?”

“Ah!” said King Pelles, and despite himself a laughter surged up from his chest, bubbling out inexplicably. Far downstream, his pole was a tiny splintered twig among the rocks, and the fish leapt sparkling through the river, fearless and free. “There you go! Now that’s the Question, isn’t it!”

[delicioussshame]

PSA : this fic contains many bad takes which I do not endorse, but then again, I’m writing dub-con sugar daddy fic, what were you expecting?

Shen Yuan slowly lifts himself from his undisturbed sleep, unsurprised to once again find Luo Binghe gone. It is very late, after all. If he had actual obligations right now, he couldn’t afford to be this lazy, but since his student made it obvious that he wanted Shen Yuan to do as little as possible, who was he to argue? He can luxuriate in bed all day if he wants to.

It’s not like it’s going to last, anyway.

He tries to smother the part of him that keeps reminding him that he chose to cut himself off from his family’s wealth. That if he wanted to stop working and return to comfortable, uninterrupted stability, all he had to do was call. He’s certain his parents would take him back happily.

They’d never let him forget it, of course.

Then again, how his siblings would laugh at his current situation. All that bravado, all those principles, and he’s the one who ends up living off a rich man’s money? What had even been the point of choosing a meritless career they all had tried to keep him away from if he wasn’t going to maintain the moral high ground?

Shen Yuan had fallen off the moral high ground years ago, when he realised he could do nothing to help those who didn’t want to help themselves. No matter how he insisted, how he offered after-hours help and tried to make his lessons engaging, only Luo Binghe had ever taken him on it, and look where that took his student; to inherited wealth, and an unhealthy fixation with an old high school teacher Shen Yuan cannot help but feel guilty for. He must have done something wrong, must have been too familiar, must have encouraged Luo Binghe’s worst tendencies in a way he couldn’t detect. Why else would he pay an old man for company?

Daddy issues is his first thought. Raised without a father, currently living off his progenitor’s riches? He must have latched onto the only male figure in his life to deal.

It might explain why Luo Binghe hasn’t touched him yet. Why else would he abstain? He had made his intentions very clear, and Shen Yuan had been too exhausted with it all not to take him on it. It’s not like he’d ever wanted this, or wanted men, before, but if someone had to sleep with a man… Luo Binghe was probably as good as it gets. And, despite the guilt, Shen Yuan has always liked this little, timid, eager to please little student of his. He had brightened Shen Yuan’s endless days at a job he hated with his honest desire to learn and his bottomless enthusiasm, with his cheery smiles and his delicious confections. Shen Yuan had missed him dearly when he’s graduated, but had believed he’d done his job well. He’d provided Luo Binghe with all the tools he could to succeed in life.

And how he’d succeeded.

So he doesn’t mind spending some time with him, even if he’s very unsure about going further. Luo Binghe wouldn’t hurt him. He knows this. It’s the waiting that’s keeping him on edge. He just wants to know where he stands. If Luo Binghe admitted this was just a very weird way of having his teacher to himself for a few days, Shen Yuan would forgive him on the spot and happily spoil his favorite pupil however he pleased. He’d deserve it. No matter how much Shen Yuan had tried to blind himself to how utterly suffocating the lifestyle he’d chosen had been for him, leaving it all behind, even for only four days, made it all too obvious. He relishes waking up as late as he wishes, stumbling around in his pajamas until he reaches the kitchen and whatever delicious delicacy Luo Binghe had left for breakfast, before sitting down and catching up on all the terrible novels he hadn’t read in years, wondering if he dares to use the card Luo Binghe left to unlock all the extras. Even Luo Binghe’s arrival is nice. Shen Yuan has been living alone for years. Conversation with someone he enjoys the company of is no hardship. Home-cooked meals are a delight. Luo Binghe even manages to keep his home as tidy as a hotel room despite his workload, while Shen Yuan winces at what his shitty apartment must look like.

It’s all very nice, but it would be so much nicer without the uncertainty.

So Shen Yuan is going to do something very dumb.

______________

Coming home to Shen Yuan feels so normal it’s like he’s always been there, waiting for Luo Binghe’s return.

He’s not gone enough to expect a greeting kiss at the door, no matter how appreciated it would be, but now that Shen-laoshi is right here, he can’t help but let his hopes rise a little each time. He already has to leave Shen-laoshi sleeping in his bed in the morning since he needs his rest, a welcome wouldn’t be so much to ask for, would it?

He only gets silence when he enters, so Luo Binghe sighs and goes looking for Shen-laoshi.

Once he finds him, he’s instantly torn by opposing impulses.

It’s summer. Shen-laoshi isn’t working. If he wants to wear shorts, he’s allowed.

But really, do they have to be so short? Did he have to lie on his belly as he read, long legs carelessly hanging over the edge of the couch as if daring Luo Binghe to reach for them, to travel up and up until he reaches the scandalous edge of his clothing? Worse, Shen-laoshi is using Luo Binghe’s headphones, so he hasn’t heard him coming. He has no idea Luo Binghe is standing right behind him, dangerously close to giving up on all his good will and just take what Shen Yuan is so lewdly presenting.

His ankle is so delicate. Luo Binghe bets if he were to bruise it with his mouth, the mark would last for days.

Luo Binghe bites his tongue. No matter how inviting the picture is, at the end of the day, it is a mirage. Shen-laoshi wouldn’t thank him for ravaging him, no matter how provocative he was being.

Still, this isn’t fair to him. Let’s make sure something like this doesn’t happen again, or at least, not until Luo Binghe is in a position to make his appreciation known.

Instead of signaling his presence via a hand trailing up his exposed thigh, Luo Binghe pats his shoulder. “Laoshi.”

Shen Yuan jumps, startled. “Binghe!” He takes the headphones off. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

His embarrassed flush is so lovely.

No. “Laoshi doesn’t have to apologise for that, but I would appreciate he be more… mindful next time.”

“I’ll set the volume lower, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Oh?”

As fair as Luo Binghe is concerned, Shen Yuan brought this on himself. “I’ve tried to let Shen-laoshi rest in peace, and to give him some time to get used to the idea, but if he lounges around in my own home looking like this, he has to know he’s making it very difficult for me to give him space.”

Shen Yuan turns bright red in response, which is not helping Luo Binghe’s shaky self-control. “Oh. So Binghe really… I see.”

Luo Binghe closes his eyes in dismay. Were a few days of carefully platonic attention all it took for Shen Yuan to convince himself that Luo Binghe didn’t desire him? His teacher really is a master of willful blindness. He probably didn’t even realise how vulnerable he looks, having rolled over to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes, the length of him all spread out like a feast, his cheap shirt having risen just a bit, exposing a tiny strip of pure white skin that’s begging for his touch.

Since he needs the reminder, Luo Binghe is going to give him one.

Decided, Luo Binghe starts to lower over Shen-laoshi.

“Binghe? Wha-“

This isn’t how he imagined their first kiss would go, but it doesn’t matter. In this case, imagination could never rival the reality of Shen Yuan’s lips under his, a bit dry, or the hot warmth of his mouth once Luo Binghe has used Shen Yuan’s stupefaction against him to force his way inside.

Before he knows it, he’s straddling Shen Yuan in his haste to discover more of him, pressing him down the couch and cradling his head still.

Shen Yuan’s arms come to life, pulling at Luo Binghe’s shirt in a way Luo Binghe cannot discern. Is he trying to get him closer, or to push him away?

The doubt is unsettling. With much hardship, Luo Binghe frees Shen Yuan from his hold, his heart beating harder than it ever did, desperately trying to ignore how affected he is.

Shock is all he notices on Shen Yuan’s face.

The sight is sobering. “Is Laoshi all right?”

Shen Yuan shakes his head wildly. “I’m… fine. Just fine.”

“That’s good.” Despite his whole body fighting it, Luo Binghe lifts himself up and away from Shen Yuan. “Laoshi understands now what a temptation he is to me?”

Luo Binghe can almost see Shen Yuan biting back the rebukes at the idea that he could be a temptation to anyone. Shen-laoshi’s self-perception has been eroded by his lifestyle. Luo Binghe is going to have to be the one to teach him better, this time. “I understand.”

That’s too bad. Luo Binghe wouldn’t have minded demonstrating some more. “Of course, if the feeling is reciprocated, Shen-laoshi only has to say so.”

“That’s not the point, is it? Doesn’t Binghe pay for my consent? If he wants… this, then why doesn’t he take it?”

Luo Binghe flinches. Said like it, it sounds bad. Luo Binghe only wanted to offer Shen Yuan the easy life he deserves! “I would never force Shen-laoshi! If he finds the prospect unpleasant, then it won’t happen. That’s all. He can remain here as long as he wants, and nothing untoward will take place if he doesn’t agree to it. I just ask that he be aware of his devoted student as he does so.” Shen Yuan is here, in his home, now. The first hurdle has been crossed. Now, the point is to keep him here. Sex can wait.

“Okay. I believe you. Binghe has always been a good person, after all.” He rises for the couch, trying his best to straighten his clothes. “I think I’ll change then, and we can eat after?”

Luo Binghe welcomes the deflection with open arms. “Yes! I’ll prepare something delicious!”

Not that it will compare to the taste of Shen-laoshi’s mouth.

[nekojaf]

Idol! Au's soul boundary and reproduction info

(this may come off kind of awkward to the sensitive??? I tried to write it as normally as possible and I'm pretty sure I succeeded but ay I'd say 14+ for parents sake.)

The souls in Idol!Tale are used for several things. Fighting, Magic, and reproduction.

The reproduction is normally used for creatures who can't reproduce normally otherwise. This is one of the ways humans forgot that their souls existed because they were so used to reproducing the normal way. Meanwhile monsters like skeletons, or ghosts have to use this method.

Boundarys around souls are complicated. It's soully based around intent and what the soul bearer is use to + the situation.

Fighting is fighting. The soul is shown and used and no one thinks twice about it. Attacks of pure malice are more likely to hurt then attacks of play or if you're training.

As for Magic it's a little more thought about in an attractive sense but it's more like viewing someone in a pretty gown or suit. Only a pervert would think more about it. The magic is used for it's intent of it's trait and if that requires the soul exiting the body it's like a show or a spectical of beauty. Perhaps a means to lure a mate if the situation is correct.

For reproduction the souls have to bond and fuse. By bonding it means that the monsters have to really love eachother or feel very connected. This can be done normally by the normal acts of passion and lust.

The feeling have to be mutual though other wise the fusing will not go naturally and is quite frankly dangerous to attempt because the weaker soul will suffer. Especially if it's Boss monster x grunt monster will not be good for the grunt monster but the Boss monster will usual come out fine. It's not impossible for the stronger one to be harmed during it but the souls would have to be closer together strength wise. The closer they are the more both will suffer.

As for the fusing and reproducing the two souls will fuse together and use their magic to attempt making a small "pocket" of their magic mixed together. If it is a success the pocket will be left in the mother hosts soul and will stay their to form into it's own soul by feeding off the mothers magic until it's ready to separate and become it's own being.

(Soul fusing is not to be mistaken for soul combining when two souls combine and become one strong soul that works as its own being until separated again. Soul combining is a spell as well as something you have to learn.)

The mother host role will mainly go to the female's hosts soul. Mostly because the female soul is more biologically nurturing then a male soul. But it's not like this all the time. There are rare occasions when the male is the host. If two male souls succeed in making a child it would have to be left in one of the male souls. Of course it's harder for souls of the same gender to reproduce because they don't mix as well biologically. It's possible but rare.

All this leads us back to boundaries. Yes I'm sure you've figured it out and I'll be frank, soul fusing is basically monster sex. It's pleasurable and stuff assuming there's consent and luv. Ayy I said the horny word. I will wash out my mouth with soup don't worry.

In which case isn't the soul inappropriate to simply show people or let them touch? Well no not really. It depends on the situation. Touching souls for example isn't exactly horny, unless it's two souls that are touching each other in which case eeeesh awkward. But if you're using your physical body it really does depend.

Touching souls with the physical body isn't really inappropriate. (unless you're intentionally trying to be that way) Just keep in mind that they're sensitive and delicate so you shouldn't just squeeze as hard as you can because that'll just equal death.

Spells that require you to show your soul just pretty. If someone asks you if they can touch your soul and that's scenario it can either be awkward or casual. If it's a stranger then you should probably refuse because you don't know if they're going to simply try to fuse with it the moment they got it. If it's your best buddy who's always outgoing and curious you're most likely going to say yes because you trust it isn't like that. (Unless you're an edgy mc edge Lord or shy bean.)

Though sometimes asking to see or hold someone soul is supposed to be a flirt. Something that could progress into something more. You should probably clarify that's not what you mean especially if you're asking in private in a bedroom or something. Unless the two of you know you're just friends and nothing more than that. Something you could trust them with without thinking about it. For example,

Friends:

Pop: Hey Star? Can I see your soul? I don't think I've ever seen it and I'm curious what kind of magic it radiates.

Star: Huh? Uh... Sure I guess so.

People that could be potential partners:

Rock: Hey Pop? What's your soul like? I don't think I've seen it before.

Pop: H-huh..? W-why are you asking..? If you don't mind me asking? ^^;

Rock: What- Wait no I didn't mean-

Idol, Star, and Beat: HALT! You're under arrest for being horny!!!

Rock: I DIDN'T MEAN-AAAUGBHHJ (tackled to the ground)

Also do not simply grab someone soul without permission. That'll result in you getting hard slap on the face, a punch in the throat, or a kick in the crotch.

So ey that about wraps that up. Hope you enjoyed the ins and outs of it. Feel free to use this info for your own au. Because I assure you many have this head canon already. If you have any questions feel free to ask and I'll see if I can answer.

[radialarch]

every once in a while on the internet we have another round of “is it good or bad for writers to want kudos” and i’m reminded that one time i answered this question for someone in way more depth than anyone wanted, and perhaps “after a months-long tumblr hiatus” is the best time to amnesty this into the void, who knows

------

Q: I think because of social media, the Internet, the masses (or their reaction rather) become so easily available, their power is also amplified. Maintaining diversity can become a real problem (or is it the contrary?). What are your thoughts and response to this? for people who are just starting to write, kudos and comments could be addictive. When should one follow or change?.. or you should stick to what you believe in?

Okay, so this is an issue I think about a lot, and I should probably preface this by saying that all of what I'm gonna say can be really difficult to do, and, depending on the reasons you are in fandom, it might not be the "right" approach for someone to take anyway.

I said earlier that fanfiction feels to me like a fairly homogeneous genre, and I think this is at least in part because of the existence of very popular, very widely known fics that many people read, and then, either consciously or unconsciously, go on to imitate in their own works. This isn't necessarily a bad thing for individual writers -- I also said that a lot of my first attempts at writing were imitative, it's a process everyone will go through in the path to becoming better writers -- but collectively, it contributes to this communal pool of works that ends up having the same sort of... textual flavor, if you will.

This is a phenomenon that troubles me because I firmly believe that diversity of works and ideas in a fandom are a good thing. Fandom, to me, works best when anything seems possible, when many different ideas can be examined without constraint. I won't always like some of the avenues that are explored -- there are tropes and ideas that I dislike, and I might pass a fic by without clicking if I see it contains those things -- but the proliferation of ideas means that there's much more of a chance that fandom will kick up an idea I love but might never have thought of otherwise.

The thing is, fandom -- the audience that's reading, leaving kudos or comments, bookmarking and reccing -- does not always reward the efforts of writers who are trying to experiment with different things, and I think when you run into that situation you have to take a step back and think about what it is that you want to achieve by participating in fandom via fic writing.

Praise feels really good. Most people like praise. Look, I love getting comments on fic that tell me readers enjoyed it. I'm not gonna lie and say that you should just train yourself into a state where feedback doesn't matter. So if that's what you're in fandom for -- to be social, to connect with other people, to have a fun time where your works will be well-received -- then I think that's a valid approach. Like, if that's what you want out of this experience, then you should feel totally free to do that, that's not a "wrong" way to do fandom.

But if what you want from writing fic is to become a better writer, then first you have to be very honest with yourself. Becoming a better writer involves taking a lot of (textual) risks. Sometimes, you try something and fail; sometimes, you try something and succeed, but what you end up with isn't what people in fandom want to read. And this isn't rewarding in a way that a ton of fannish feedback might feel rewarding, but the process should be rewarding in its own right. For me, writing a story that stretches at the limits of my technical ability and succeeding in it feels fantastic. Comparing a story I wrote a while ago with something current and noting ways in which I might've gotten better is a great feeling. And conversely, I don't like feeling like I've stagnated, that I've settled too much into a comfort zone and stopped trying to do something more ambitious. It makes me miserable. And if that's the case for you, then you have to accept that sometimes, you won't get comments and praise on what you write, and that will make you feel terrible -- but maybe not writing that would have made you feel worse, as a writer.

So I think that's a calculation everyone has to make for themselves. And it's really hard! It stings to see something you've put a lot of effort and time and, sometimes, personal experience into be ignored by other people. I don't know whether that will ever go away. It can help to have friends you can discuss writing with, who will be supportive of what you're doing even if this big thing called "fandom" isn't. You can try to be realistic about what kind of feedback you can expect (writing in a very small fandom, or even nonexistent fandom, can be an interesting way to calibrate your expectations). And some days it will still feel terrible, and you just have to keep asking yourself if it's worth it. And hopefully it is.

On a different note, if you want to do anything to encourage the diversity of ideas in fandom, there are things people can do from the consumer/reader side! For one, I'm not particularly sold on this idea of kudos/comments/bookmarks as a metric of quality. I know a lot of people will like, go to AO3 after they've watched a movie or a show or read a book and sort by kudos and read from the top down; and this is certainly an easy way to choose fics to read, but there are fics that are brilliant and gorgeous and wonderful that will never make it there. I know a lot of people think that, you know, if a fic is good then it will of course get "discovered" and you'll find out about it, but like. Sometimes the person who discovers it has to be you. Be an active participant in the process of choosing what you read (something that applies both inside & outside fandom!) and look, you'll wade through a lot of terrible fic but there are also some great fics buried out there that you might never see otherwise.

And then, when you find something you love, engage with it! Kudos, comment, rec it to your friends. I used to be a terrible lurker until I started writing fic; I still don't leave like, the best comments, but I do it a lot more because it really does mean a lot. Encourage other people in fandom who might be going through the same process you are, trying to decide if this writing thing is worth it, and hopefully, you know, someone else will do it for you.

[bwprowl]

Me vs. The Mitchells vs. The Machines

The Mitchells vs. The Machines is a really cool movie. Seriously! It’s the Spider-Verse crew continuing to be at the top of their game, doing their damnedest to elevate and evolve 3D film animation in a way apart from the ongoing Disneyfied edge-sanding seen elsewhere. Several sequences, especially the final fight scene at the end, are absolutely jaw-dropping. A lot of the writing of the movie is also genuinely clever, with some cool tricks of weaving in Chekov’s Guns that you don’t even realize WERE Chekov’s Guns until they’re deployed, but then make perfect sense. And I also just have to say there’s something oddly heartening about a movie that does a lot to target Millenials in terms of nostalgia, but not so much via our shows and movies and music the way other project might go about, but specifically by tapping the internet meme culture of the early-00’s that’s so media-unique to that emergent generation. There’s some genuine heart visible in so many of the levels of how this thing was made that I can understand its touting as an instant classic and the waves of praise and popularity that have followed its release.

Unfortunately, I can’t so unilaterally praise this movie, mostly because I can NOT stop thinking about how poorly-implemented and mis-framed its central familial conflict is.

Oh yeah spoilers for this movie I guess

So I’ll need to detour at first and talk about A Goofy Movie, which isn’t much of an issue for me since I fucking love A Goofy Movie. And watching The Mitchells vs. The Machines my initial takeaway was a pleasant observation that someone had basically grafted A Goofy Movie to The World’s End, which could have made for an extremely fun time for me. A Goofy Movie, so it goes, centers on the conflict between a father and child trying to understand each other, spurred on by the father conscripting the child into an impromptu road-trip which the child initially resents but eventually leans into as a vehicle for understanding as the family members open up to each other and end with a greater appreciation for their familial bond as well as healthier, more open lines of communication. There are comical misunderstandings, dramatic misunderstandings, and escalating Wacky Adventures that keep the trip feeling suitably cinematic in scope. And as The Mitchells vs. The Machines continued on, I kept finding myself rounding back to that comparison and asking “Why am I not getting into this as much as I do A Goofy Movie?”

It turns out to be a point of motivation, actually. In A Goofy Movie, Goofy dragooning Max into the cross-country fishing trip is immediately borne out of his (however misinformed) desire to keep his son from going down a wrong, potentially delinquent or criminal path. Goofy has concerns about the lessened connection and communication with Max, sure, but that’s a symptom of his inability to communicate his actual worries about Max’s behavior to him, not the sum total of the problem he feels needs fixing. Goofy is under the impression there are genuine problems Max is going through, and while he’s got the actual particulars wrong, he’s not really that far off, since Max still IS the kind of kid to elaborately hijack a school function or make up extravagant lies to get attention from the girl he likes rather than just talking to her and asking her out like a normal human-dog-person. Goofy’s objective is firmly centered on helping Max for Max’s sake, and he’s only taking up a few weeks out of Max’s summer and causing him to miss a single party in order to do it.

I lay all that out so you can try to understand my headspace coming at critiquing The Mitchells vs. The Machines and negatively viewing its own take on a plot concept I ostensibly love by default. The problem, as said, is one of motivation. In The Mitchells, Rick’s dissatisfaction with his relationship with his daughter Katie is purely that: Dissatisfaction with their relationship. Katie herself is, by all accounts, doing spectacularly. She’s got a healthy relationship with friends and other family members, she’s gotten accepted into a prestigious film school, and her YouTube account seems to pull pretty keen numbers (With all the tech jokes in this movie it’s a wonder there’s never a riff on her shilling NordVPN or Raid Shadow Legends). The conflict between father and daughter is purely a case of them growing apart in her teen years demonstrably because Rick has no understanding of her current passions and makes no effort to do so, which leads to him having consistently questioned and doubted her ability to succeed in her field. The film frames the impromptu road-trip as his attempt to ‘fix’ the issues between them, but the only thing broken by the presentation of the story is Rick’s approach to parenting in the first place. He could easily have made Katie warm to him on the way out by replacing or paying for the laptop he broke and throwing her a subscription to her YouTube channel, but then the movie would be shorter and we wouldn’t be able to pretend the conflict was anything other than his own pursuit of self-centered actualization.

That’s the other issue, of course, the way The Mitchells vs. The Machines consistently rounds back to the point that Katie is somehow shouldering half the responsibility for the father/daughter communication breakdown. But as stated above, it really has hardly anything to do with her. Katie’s succeeding on her own terms, and the only outreach she would theoretically need to do to her dad would be to make HIM feel better, something he could do himself if he’d only actually pay attention to the cool videos she keeps trying to show him and not constantly deciding that HE knows that SHE will fail. It’s a fundamentally one-sided conflict from what we’re shown, and yet the other members of the Mitchell family continuously treat Katie like she needs to accommodate her father’s personal whims and not hurt his feelings despite the fact that he’s the one who went behind her back and canceled her flight, even forcing her to miss her first week of college (!) simply because he felt sorry for himself that they didn’t like the same things anymore. Again, Katie’s doing great, it’s Rick that decides to make his problem the entire family’s problem, and while I’m going to hesitate to refer to this behavior as out-and-out abusive, it is still absurdly selfish and pointedly poor parenting. 

The movie seems to nominally strive for balance in the conflict, not making it entirely Katie’s job to fix her dad’s hurt feelings, and indeed having a whole sequence where he realizes what a Big Jerk he’s been about not trying to understand or support her passions, and resolving to actually Make An Effort moving forward. The problem is that this is still framed as one half of the equation, as Katie supposedly gets to understand where her dad is coming from, which...makes her feel better about all the times he said she would fail and so she should rely on and appreciate him more? And the reason that’s a fundamental issue is annoying, because it means we have to talk about Rick’s Stupid Fucking Cabin.

Look, I hate doing this. I personally try very hard to keep in the mindset that stories are stories and things happen in them because they are stories. I am loathe to attempt picking apart the points of particular plot points, but the problem is that this Stupid Fucking Cabin is positioned as the heart of the humanity of the entire movie, yet it hinges on a sequence of decisions that no actual human being would ever come by. First off, do you have any idea how long it takes to BUILD a home like that, let alone as one guy apparently doing it himself? Rick spent the better part of his twenties building this big Fucking Stupid Cabin to fulfill his lifelong dream of ‘Living in the woods’, only for his wife to get pregnant once it was finished, leading to him just dropping like that? Was there no planning in this family? Was Katie an accident that Rick immediately was this endeared to? I mean, he totally seems like a pro-lifer. But then why do they need to sell the Stupid Fucking Cabin on account of a kid coming along? How were Rick and Linda planning on living out their lives there if not with resources that could support them as well as a kid or two? Rick could have just raised his kids in the woods in his Stupid Fucking Cabin and they would have stood a better chance at turning out like little duplicates of himself and his own interests like he clearly wanted. That’s to say nothing of this sequence of events being framed as a ‘failure’, despite that fact that Rick handily succeeded at what he set out to do, only to turn around and abandon the thing he succeeded at himself on seemingly the same sort of impulsive whim that leads to him dragging his whole family on a road trip because he doesn’t understand YouTube. There are motivating factors to these decisions he made that could inform the whole context of this supposedly tragic backstory, but we aren’t privy to anything resembling them, and the result is a plot point that seemingly only exists to make Katie (and the audience) feel bad for Rick in the third act of the movie.

The real answer is the ultimate assertion of this thing by the finale, that Katie should be ‘grateful’ to Rick for his ‘sacrifice’ of his dream that supposedly allowed her to be in the place she is now. Except Katie had no part in Rick’s bizarre impulsive choice to build a Stupid Fucking Cabin then sell it as soon as a kid popped out so he, I guess, could feel some sense of important familial contribution. That’s to say nothing of the point about parental figures who make grand, sweeping gestures nominally for the good of their kids, but are effectively and emotionally unavailable in the day-to-day engagements of their lives. Because unlike Goofy in A Goofy Movie, Rick isn’t actually doing what he’s doing for Katie’s sake. Her motivation for most of the movie is to move away from home and go to college, a completely normal-ass thing that children do. Any of Rick’s outreach or efforts to ‘fix’ relationships and situations are purely for the sake of his own hurt feelings, and the way Katie’s mother and brother consistently push her into going along with them only highlights the overt way this whole family’s problems are hung up on the insecurities of of this single stubborn jerk. But then, that’s my other major misgiving with The Mitchells vs. The Machines: Its expected exaltation of the default biological family as some hallowed unit for which it is a tragedy to fall into any degree of dysfunction. This is with pointed dismissal towards the idea of Found Family, seen as a distraction, an obstacle to Katie realizing who her TRUE people are, and coming around to a sense of fulfillment because she managed to massage her dad’s ego for long enough that he stopped being totally dismissive of the things that brought her joy. You see, Found Families are fun, but they aren’t REAL or SPECIAL because they already accept and appreciate you for who you are, unlike these people you’re biologically obligated to share living space with for 18+ years whom you have to forge bonds with through varying degrees of communication breakdowns and compromises in self-agency.

With all that in mind, it highlights some of the smaller issues in the movie’s setup as well. This is perhaps petty, but jeez was I annoyed with the film’s framing of The Mitchells as this ~craaaazy~ ~weeeeiiiird~ family which included such outlandish quirks as ‘Dad who doesn’t understand technology’ and ‘Young boy who really likes dinosaurs’. And the wishy-washy tone of the familial conflict is echoed in the ‘The Machines’ part of the plot, which mostly led to me sitting on edge throughout the whole film as I wondered how it was going to come down on the subject of those kids and their darn smartphones. It ultimately doesn’t go full anti-technology, which makes sense given how much of Katie’s character revolves around using the stuff, to say nothing of the predilections of the people who actually, uh, made this movie. But the most it can manage is a halfhearted “Maybe unregulated big tech bad?” which even then is undercut, mostly I assume because of the various big tech companies involved in producing and streaming this thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m overall glad it doesn’t go full "durr hburr technology is bad fire is scary and thomas edison was a witch", but a lack of any insight or ideas on that front means that the familial relationship element is the only conceptual element it really has to stand on, and I just spent over 1800 words breaking down why that fundamentally didn’t work!

It’s an aggravating situation, because lord did I want to love The Mitchells vs. The Machines. It’s gorgeous, it’s got some clever bits in the writing, and it can honestly sling a punchline like nobody’s business, there are some KILLER jokes in there. But it just became impossible all the way through the end for me to engage with the heart of the movie, its central connective conflict, on the terms it wanted me to. Now it’s admittedly possible that, perhaps like Rick Mitchell, that’s my problem. I’ve seen a lot of love for this movie from my peers, and it does make me question my own projections: I don’t want to get TOO personal on main, but I admit that it’s entirely possible that people who’ve enjoyed an actually functional fatherly relationship would better engage with the emotive connections this movie wants you to make. But even with that caveat, I was able to find my own way to resonate with the similar stakes of A Goofy Movie just thanks to the more effective way that one was framed, so if this one couldn’t hook me, maybe it was The Mitchells vs. The Machines’ fault after all.

[blackcloverdatabase]

English Translation of Novel 2: Chapter 3 – The Special Assault Squad Sprints Onward (Part 1 of 2)

Here’s the first half of the last untranslated chapter from novel 2! This chapter is all Magna and Luck, plus a new character named Morgan. This chapter also features some more information about dungeons and the people who explore them. We also learn more about the rampant classism in Clover Kingdom. It sure is rough to be a peasant.

--- The Special Assault Squad Sprints Onward (Part 1) ---

Clouds of dust blew violently over a desolate wasteland.

“……We’re here.”

“Yup~”

Treading upon the dry earth, Magna and Luck sported fearless smiles on their faces.

“……..Oh~ This place looks pretty tough.”

They stood before an enormous dungeon the size of a mountain wrapped in sinister magic. The two were about to enter, not because it was given to them as a mission, nor for their own sakes.

It was to heal Asta’s arms.

“A ha ha. Are you scared, Magna?”

Asta’s arms were destroyed in a fierce battle against Vetto, a user of beast magic, at the Underwater Temple. Moreover, his wounds were enchanted with ancient curse magic, so he was told that his arms would never return to normal. However, even when Asta learned of this, he didn’t give up hope. He said he wouldn’t give up. In fact, he shouted as if to fight against fate itself. If anyone had a right to despair, it was him. If anyone had a right to cry, it was him. He did neither. Instead, he shouted. He shouted that anything can be healed, and even if his arms never heal, he’ll find a way to fight without them.

He took the blow reality gave him positively, without giving up.

“Who’s scared!? If anything, I’m excited!”

Thus, as his friends, as his seniors, there was only one thing they needed to do. Everyone in the Black Bulls began a search for a cure to heal his arms. The worst of all the squads, a squad of rough and rowdy hoodlums, all banded together for a single newcomer. They all scattered in different directions to find any sort of hint to cure his arms.

“Wait for us, Asta……!!”

The place Magna and Luck were facing was a dungeon in the wastelands of the Forsaken Realm. No matter what they had to do or how long it would take, they’ll save Asta. With such thoughts in their hearts, they stepped foot into the dungeon.

 ……However,

“AAAAAAAAAH!”

In less than ten minutes since they entered, they sprinted back to where they started with incredible speed.

“A ha ha ha! I was right! You’re totally scared~”

“AM NOT! I’m not scared, but……”

He shouted to Luck, who was running beside him, then turned his head over his shoulder to looked behind him.

Behind Magna and Luck, those things were chasing after them with tremendous momentum.

“GeGaaaaah!”

Those things were skeleton soldiers wearing tattered armor, armored headless knights (Dullahans), and more. A grotesque group of them had appeared together with an eerie black smoke.

“I didn’t know there were going to be GHOSTS!”

It was a dungeon full of unidentifiable monsters – a ghost dungeon. It was apparent to them that this was the type of dungeon they got themselves involved in.

  “Haah……Haah……Hah…… How is it, Luck? Did we lose them?”

Magna was hidden in a small chamber of the dungeon as he whispered to Luck. The dungeon was structured like an anthill. There were many chambers in the dungeon with countless entrance and exit ways connected to each other by various passageways. The two managed to shake off the ghosts that were chasing them by jumping into one of these small chambers. They held their breaths as they checked the passageway.

“…….Okay. It looks clear. For now, I don’t sense their mana…… Even so, A ha ha, I don’t know if it’s possible to sense a ghost’s mana, so it’s possible they could come out at any moment.”

“S-stop scaring me! …….No, wait! I’m not scared! Don’t you look down on me!”

He wasn’t scared, but he looked all around the narrow stone chamber they were in with utmost caution.

“……. Seriously, what’s with this dungeon. I expected the trap magic and security golems, but the ghosts are……”

At first, he thought they were created with some sort of trap magic, so he tried blasting them with his magic. Since he was so afraid……. No, since he was so excited, he put a considerable amount of power into his attack. However, no matter how many times he struck them down, the skeleton soldiers’ bones would reattach to each other, and their bodies would return back to normal. Even the Dullahans’ armor would regenerate. As this back and forth continued, a ridiculous number of monsters had gathered, and an eerie black smoke began to obstruct his vision, so they decided to run away. In the end, he wasn’t sure what those things were.

“……Damn it. That old hag recommended one hell of a dungeon to us.”

“Old hag?”

Luck tilted his head in confusion at Magna’s curses. Magna nodded before elaborating,

“Yeah. An old hag sometimes shows up at the black market’s gambling dens. When she gambles, she’s really good. I had her predict my fortune, and she told me to capture this dungeon.”

This all happened last night. Magna had gone to be black market to buy some medicines that restore magic power. There, he ran into that old woman, and when he explained his circumstances to her, she read his fortune and advised him to capture this dungeon.

“……..Huh? Maybe this sounds weird coming from me, but isn’t that kinda shady?”

“At first, I thought so, too. But she’s famous for her accurate predictions. Also, that old hag said that Asta helped her out not too long ago.”

She told him that, when her purse was stolen from her, Asta, Noelle, and Vanessa retrieved it for her, so she felt a dept of gratitude toward everyone in the Black Bulls. Because of that, she cordially offered her consultation services to him, but…….

“……Damn it! Return the favor my foot! Her fortune telling must be bogus after all!”

“A ha ha…… is it, I wonder?”

“Anyway, are those things really ghosts? Do ghosts really exist?”

“Hm, I’m not sure, but whether they’re ghosts or not doesn’t change the fact that we don’t know what they are. I’m not sure why, but my mana perception doesn’t work on them.”

Luck generated lightning from his fingertips. As he looked at the lightning he was generating, he said,

“Well, maybe my mana perception isn’t working because we’re in an area with strong magic…… but I’ve never had this happen before. Not once.”

Like dungeons, there are special areas that generate strong mana, known as Strong Magic Regions. Unusual magic phenomena often occur in these regions, and the phenomena they cause can vary widely, but there have been cases of mana perception being rendered useless in these regions. However, a normal dungeon wouldn’t weaken his mana perception to this degree. If an enemy was nearby, then he absolutely should be able to sense them, and he should have been able to learn the general structure of this dungeon as well. However, for some reason, he couldn’t do either of those. There truly was something strange about this dungeon.

“……Well, that’s why this dungeon is worth capturing!”

Luck crushed the lightning in his hand, extinguishing it. He then added gleefully,

“This dungeon’s huge, I can’t use my mana perception, and there’s even ghosts…… A ha ha! The treasures hidden in here must be amazing!”

Dungeons are remnants left behind by the ancients, places where valuable magic tools and books that describe how to use powerful ancient magic are stored. The larger and more difficult the dungeon, the more valuable the treasures it contains. There’s a good chance that those treasures will contain a hint for curing Asta’s arms.

“Also……”

Luck’s soft smile transformed into a belligerent one.

“If we clear this dungeon, I bet we’ll level up.”

“……Yeah, you’re right.”

The main reason they decided to capture this dungeon was, of course, to find a clue for curing Asta’s arms. The second reason they came to this dungeon, however, was to get stronger. As much as they didn’t want to think of this, as Asta’s seniors, they had to consider the possibility that Asta’s arms won’t heal. Even if they don’t heal, Asta said that he would continue fighting. No matter what people around him might say to stop him, he’ll continue fighting. That’s why Luck and Magna need to get stronger – to support him.

Finding a clue to heal Asta’s arms and getting stronger. Maybe they were being too greedy, but as long as they succeed in doing one of those things, they’ll be able to help Asta. Conversely, they didn’t plan to return to the base until they succeeded in doing at least one of those things. They were here because of that resolve.

“…….Well, let’s go.”

Magna slammed his fist into his leg, which was still shivering from earlier.

“Everything happened so suddenly earlier that I got a little sca…… that I got a little impatient, but next time, I’ll expose them for what they really are and crush ‘em! All crush all those monsters!”

Magna pumped himself up as he stood up. At that moment,

“Is someone there?”

They heard a small voice from the doorway of the small chamber they were in.  

“EEEK!”

Magna jumped toward Luck.

“Ah, s-sorry! I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything……”

The person who entered the chamber was a young girl, who apologized as she approached them. She looked like she was in her mid-teens. She had smooth, shoulder-length blonde hair, and she wore a frilled cloak. She looked like a totally normal young girl. However, no matter how Magna thought about it, it was strange that a young girl like her would be alone in a dungeon, which means she must be……

“……Oh, Oooooooh! Oh no! They’re already back! So this time it’s a girl monster!? Don’t scare me like that! N-not that I was scared, okay!?”

He peeled himself off from Luck and tried to turn-up his delinquent vibes as he stuttered. He was about to fire his magic, but then,

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!! S-sniffle…….sniffle…….”

“……….Huh?”

The girl’s shoulders jumped up in surprise, and then she started sobbing.

“Sniff……..sniffle……. That’s right. I-I’m not cute at all, and I scared you……. so of course you’d call me a monster. I have no worth as a living being after all…….”

“N-no! Wait a minute! Why’d you interpret what I said like that!? I didn’t call you a monster because I was trying to be mean!”

Magna felt incredibly guilty. Luck rarely did this, but he recoiled in disgust.  

“Wow…... Magna, you made a girl cry. You know…… you should apologize. You can’t just pour on as many insults as you want, even if it’s just a stranger.”

“I’m not trying to insult her though!? She just twisted what I said into something negative! Actually, that’s not important right now! No matter how you slice it, it’s weird that a girl would be here by herself!”

“Sorry. This guy is a bit weird in the head.”

Luck ignored Magna and smiled at the girl to calm her down.

“I’m Luck. This delinquent here is Magna. We’re Magic Knights.”

“……Magic……Knights?”

When she heard those words, she raised her head up a bit to look at Luck. Even though she calmed down to some degree, it seemed that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else since she was still so cautiously alert.

“….Yup, we’re Magic Knights. We came to capture this dungeon on a little mission of ours.”

Luck continued to speak to ease her discomfort. She stared at Luck blankly, before looking at Magna with a frightened expression once more,

“Eeek! ……I-I see. This person’s planning to abuse his authority to drag me to the ground…….”  

“I wasn’t planning to do that at all! What’s with all your wild ideas!?”

“……Magna, I misjudged you! To think you’d try to do that to a young lady!”

“I wasn’t doing anything! Don’t let her manipulate you like that!”

Magna yelled at Luck, but then he suddenly stopped as if he lost his strength. This was ridiculous. Rather, it was a complete waste of breath.  He took a small but deep breath before speaking with a mild-mannered tone of voice.

“…… Sorry for yelling so suddenly like I did. Could you please tell us your name and what you’re doing here?”

She paused a bit before wiping her tears.

“……. My name’s Morgan.”

Then, she looked like she resigned herself to fate when she said,

“……I also entered this dungeon because I have business here.”

“……Huh?”

This time, it was Luck who made a puzzled expression on his face. Fundamentally speaking, a dungeon is placed under national control the moment it is discovered. This is to prevent its relics from being stolen by someone from another country or a person with wicked intentions. This dungeon is no exception. Public access should be strictly prohibited. They didn’t know what kind of business this Morgan woman had, but there was no way she would have been allowed in without authorization. Just when Luck was about to ask her to elaborate, Magna, who was keeping watch at the passageway, shouted,

“Hey, Luck! Th-the ghosts are here!”

“GeeehGaaaaaah!”

A scream echoed from the floor beneath them, accompanied by a large number of footsteps coming from the interior of the passageway.

“Huh~ A ha ha, what’s with that? I guess I really can’t sense their mana after all?”

“Now’s not the time for that! What do we do!? Should we fight back!?”

The monsters were running with tremendous speed straight at them, hardly giving them enough time to think. Luck thought for a moment before replying,

“……I’d really like to, but let’s withdraw.”

His fighting instincts felt like they would emerge any moment now, but he endured it patiently. They haven’t developed any concrete measures against the ghosts, and they have Morgan to take care of. It would be too difficult to try fighting monsters they don’t understand while trying to protect someone. Those were his thoughts as they tried heading toward the passage at the other side of the room.

“H-hey! Hey! Luck! From the other side! They’re coming from the other side, too!!”

Just as Magna said, screams and footsteps were coming from the end of the other passageway, too.

“A ha ha……. A pincer attack?”

Luck whispered in response to what seemed like the perfect maneuvers to trap them, but at that moment,

“O-over here! There’s a hidden passageway in this room! We can escape through here!”

Although she was acting like a klutz earlier, Morgan ran across the room and pushed on a portion of the wall. When she did, the wall slid to the side, becoming an entrance to a passageway leading to the interior of the dungeon.

“H-huh!? Why do you know about that!?”

“I’ll explain later! Just get over here!”

“……….”

Magna and Luck looked at each other. They were in an unknown dungeon surrounded by unknown enemies being guided down an unknown girl down an unknown passageway. The whole situation was completely incomprehensible. Rather, the situation was completely haphazard.

“……This situation fits us perfectly!”

“Doesn’t it!?”

They understood each other’s intentions immediately and then turned their backs to each other.

“Fire Magic: Exploding Buckshot”

“Lightning Magic: Thunderclap Crumbling Orb”

After slamming the ghosts with a massive attack, they stepped into the hidden passage that Morgan opened.

“……For now, there’s nothing wrong with me being here, right?”

“……Sure. Thanks for the help.”

Magna replied to Morgan as he looked around the area she guided them to. It was a small room approximately the same size as the room they were in earlier. By the time they shook the ghosts from their tails, they somehow wound up here, but……

“…….So, how come you know so much about this dungeon, anyway?”

“……..”

……That was because the girl guided them through a countless number of passageways, rooms, and hidden doorways, even though this dungeon hasn’t even been captured yet. Why does this young girl know her way around a dungeon that even the Magic Knights haven’t figured out yet?

“Ummm……”

She hesitated to answer, but, eventually, she looked up toward Magna.

“……Y-you won’t eat me if I tell you, will you?”

“I won’t! What the heck do you think I am anyway!?”

“Eek!? You yelled at me…….Y-you’re so scary…….. s-sniffle…….”

She began to sob again as she said this, making Magna feel another pang of guilt. At the very least, he knew two things about this girl named Morgan…… she knows a lot about this dungeon, and she’s a total crybaby.

“Sniffle……. I-I’m sorry. I like archeology, so…….. I entered this dungeon without permission and did a lot of research…….”

She was a total crybaby, but once she finished crying, she gave them a heartfelt apology.

“……I see.”

As a Magic Knight, he could say that she was probably a dungeon plunderer – a generic term for nefarious people who enter dungeons without permission and take any treasures they find. He wasn’t sure what her goal was, but she was probably a member of one such group. One of the jobs of a Magic Knight is to capture such nefarious people, but……

“Well, you can answer us later.”

“I-I can!?”

Morgan raised her voice in surprise at Magna’s casual reply.

“Um…… maybe it’s wrong of me to out myself like this, but I’m basically a dungeon plunderer, you know?”

Morgan shook with fear as she averted her eyes.

“I-I was told that if I was ever caught by the Magic Knights, they would peel off all my fingernails and force me to drink an entire pot of boiling water……”

“Just what kind of group do you think the Order of Magic Knights is, anyway? We don’t do stuff like that……. Actually,”

Magna and Luck glanced at each other.

“We also came here on unofficial business, so we can’t exactly rat you out……. To begin with, capturing dungeon plunderers is….. you know? That’s work for a proper Magic Knight to do.”

“Yup! A ha ha! The Black Bulls have destroyed our fair share of ruins, too, so I don’t think that kind of work will get assigned to us anytime soon!”

“……T-the Black……. Bulls……”

Her face instantly became as white as a ghost, and tears began to gather around the corners of her eyes.

“……Eek! Sniffle….. S-so I am screwed after all. You’re going to abuse me, beat me up, and parade me around the capital…….!”

“What kind of weird ritual is that!? No! We’re not gonna do that……. But, we would like your cooperation, if possible.”

The corners of Magna’s mouth upturned into a small smile.

“You’ve investigated the inside of this dungeon, so you know its layout, right? You even knew about that hidden passageway earlier.”

“H-huh? Well, yes……”

“Then, could you guide us to the treasure room?”

This was crazy. She knew that. Even if only for just a bit, she forgot about her usual negative thoughts as she took a step back. When she found out they were Magic Knights, she was worried that they would get mad at her, but, honestly, she was also relieved. Walking through such a dangerous dungeon on her own, she could tell that she was reaching her limit. However, they were Black Bulls. Even out here in the outskirts of the Forsaken Realm, they were an infamously dangerous group. Frankly, she didn’t want anything to do with them.

“A ha ha! Magna, you can’t just ask her that~”

Luck appeared from behind her like a lifeboat. He seemed like a gentle human being, someone she could speak honestly with. Thinking this, Morgan turned around to face him……

“First, we have to ask her…….. how to slaughter those ghosts, right?”

“………”

When she did, she saw that Luck’s smile looked even crazier than Magna’s, his pupils dilated like a psychopath’s.

“……You see, I’m already at my limit~ When I’m faced with such interesting opponents, I just gotta fight them! A ha ha, I want to reduce them all to cinders…… but I might damage the dungeon if I do that.”

“……Eek!”

Morgan finally realized it…….

“……So, can you please spill everything you know for us?”

……The two in front of her were the most dangerous monsters here.

In any case,

“I……. I understand. I don’t know if I’ll be enough for you…… but I’ll guide you, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Morgan fortified her resolve as she faced them. She thought they were crazy. However, earlier, they fought while protecting her. Even after that, they seemed like they were trying to look after her. They weren’t that unreasonable. Most of all, they were strong. If she’s with them, then maybe……

“So…… um, I know I’m not in a position to say this, but…… in return, could you please listen to my request?”

Morgan examined their expressions as she continued,

“Um……. I’d like you to take back what was taken from me at this dungeon.”

“……What was taken from you?”

Luck tilted his head as he asked. Morgan nodded in response and clarified,

“……My grimoire.”

 After that, as Morgan promised, she guided Luck and Magna to the treasure hall. Along the way, she told her story. As she mentioned before, she loves archeology, so since a young age she has been sneaking into dungeons as a hobby. Just as she has done before, she undid the trap magic in this dungeon as she went to capture it, but in the second half of her journey, she ran into a problem. In addition to the trap magic that was installed, there were combat golems stationed inside, which fight to eliminate any invaders. One of the golems protecting this dungeon took her grimoire. After being defeated by a golem and losing her grimoire, she has been wandering through this dungeon for days, waiting for a chance to take back the grimoire that was stolen from her.

“……I’m not sure how to say this, but, well, you kind of had that coming.”

He ended up saying with a bored expression on his face.

“S……sorry. When I heard that this dungeon wasn’t captured and was full of dangerous traps…… I thought ‘Aah, that sounds so nice! What a lovely dungeon!’, so I couldn’t help it……”

Morgan said something completely incomprehensible to Magna with tears in her eyes.

“A ha ha! I understand! Even if I know that my opponent is crazy dangerous, when I think about what kind of magic they might use, I really want to fight them to the death!”

“Right!? Even if a dungeon is filled with trap magic that could totally kill me if I don’t deactivate it, I end up tripping it anyway so that I can see how it works!”

“You two are totally in sync in the psycho department. What a dicey conversation.”

Even though Magna commented as such, he knew that this didn’t erase the fact that he’s a bit crazy, too.

“Anyway, the biggest problem are those monsters. We’ll have to face them at some point if we’re making our way to the treasure room.”

Actually, they were attacked by those monsters many more times after that. Each time, Morgan would guide them to an escape, but there was no place for them to settle down.

“……I’m sorry. Even I don’t know what those monsters are.”

Unfortunately, an essential part of what they needed to know couldn’t be explained from Morgan’s research, either.

“All I can say is that those monsters only appeared recently. When I first entered this dungeon, they weren’t here…… If they were golems or if they were the result of trap magic, then they should have been here from the beginning, but……”

“A ha ha! In other words, these ghosts are……. An existence that isn’t supposed to be here, right?”

Luck’s nonchalant words sent a shiver down Magna’s spine. If he puts it like that, then those things really are……

“Did you set off any traps that might have set those ghosts free?”

In contrast to Magna, who was frightened……. Er, rather, a little bit surprised by Morgan’s words, Luck was calm and composed as he asked her. However, Morgan shook her head.

“I haven’t. I’ve explored countless dungeons, and it would be impossible to activate such large-scale trap magic without noticing it.”

“I-I see……”

Magna couldn’t help but nod at Morgan’s surprisingly persuasive words.

“……By the way, how many dungeons have you explored without permission, anyway?”

“……Well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

Morgan turned her eyes away from them with tremendous speed. They were the eyes of a habitual criminal.

“There’s one other thing that struck me as odd…… Before those monsters appeared, I could sense mana perfectly fine. I was able to reach the treasure room by doing that.”

When Morgan forced the conversation back to the main subject, Luck spoke quietly, as if he was thinking out loud.

“Then, those ghosts are doing something to block our mana perception……. Is that right?”

“I think so…… but, I’m not really sure what we can do about it…… To begin with, if our opponents really are ghosts, then I have no idea how they could be causing it…...”

“Yeah. Well, if they really are ghosts, then I don’t think common sense applies to them in general……”

The two stood with troubled expressions on their faces for some time before, finally, Luck gave up and said,

“Hmm, it’s no good. I haven’t had enough death matches, so I can’t think straight. Sorry, Magna. Can I snap some of your ribs? I only need to break three.”  

“Don’t ask someone if you can break their bones like you’re asking for a quick favor! ……Well, I’m getting tired of trying to use our heads, too. It doesn’t suit us.”

He wasn’t scared…… or rather, excited, by those monsters anymore. After encountering them over and over again, he had gotten used to them.

“The next time those guys attack us, let’s waste ‘em.”

Magna said with a villainous grin on his face. In the end, they were going to do what they were planning to do from the beginning. When he was firing his magic earlier, he was holding back. Even so, he found that this dungeon was built quite sturdily. It won’t fall apart if he goes all out for a bit.

“……Right. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back much longer, either.”

As if he was thinking the same thing Magna was, Luck said this with a voice filled with frustration.

Seeing those two like this, Morgan went as pale as a ghost and said with a flagrantly fake smile,

“T-then, the next time we encounter those monsters, I’ll just go somewhere else……”

“Just telling you this in advance, but you’ll actually be safest if you’re near us.”

“…… Sniffle”

Morgan began to cry softly, but Magna patted her back with a wry smile on his face and said,

“Don’t cry. You’ve entered countless dungeons before, right? You’ve got the guts to get through this.”

“Sniffle….. I get the feeling that this dungeon is more dangerous than the others, though.”

Not because of the trap magic and the golems, but because she was stuck with these two.

“Seriously though, how many dungeons have you gone to before this one? I won’t get mad, so just tell me already.”

“U-uh…….”

Once again, she averted her eyes when Magna asked her this.

“A-about forty, I think?”

Magna gave her a karate chop.

“Eeek!? You told me you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Yeah, but forty!? You’ve been to more dungeons than most low-ranking Magic Knights!”

Moreover, that was way more than the number of dungeons Magna has been to. Actually, he didn’t know there even were that many dungeons out there.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! If you indiscriminately enter every dungeon you hear about, then you just end up visiting that many eventually…… But, please don’t crush my eyeballs! Please!”

“……I was never planning to, but make this the last dungeon you sneak into. You’re lucky we’re the ones that found you. If another Magic Knight found you, you’d have been arrested.”

“A ha ha! Well, there’s that. But it’s also just really dangerous. This time, it was just your grimoire that was taken from you, but next time could be your life!”

“……Yes, you’re right.”

Morgan nodded in response to their scolding, reflecting on her actions penitently.

‘Did I go too far?’ Magna thought, but, a moment later, Morgan went back to normal and smiled.

“Even before all this, I was thinking about making this dungeon my last……. My siblings have all grown up now, so there’s no longer any need for me to earn money this way.”

“……You were doing this for money?”

Magna tilted his head as he asked. With a contrite smile, Morgan responded,

“Yes, I would draw maps of the dungeon and sell them to Magic Knights. I was born in a village in the Forsaken Realm named Seitan, so there wasn’t any other way for me to make money. By selling those maps, I was able to make just enough to get by.”

“……I see.”

As mentioned earlier, it is strictly forbidden for civilians to enter a dungeon. However, frankly speaking, if they have been assigned to a dungeon, a lot of Magic Knights would love to have a detailed map of a dungeon that hasn’t been captured yet. It’s a different story if you have a Magic Knight on your team who can map out the dungeon themselves, such as Mimosa and Luck, but if you don’t have someone on your team who can do that, then such a map would be a crucial asset.

Morgan drew maps of unconquered dungeons, and Magic Knights bought them. Those were the kinds of illegal transactions that were taking place. It may sound wrong of either side to do that, but that type of thing happens when both sides’ interests are in alignment. It was an unspoken agreement.

“My dad died young, and my mom had a weak constitution…… the only thing we had in abundance was mouths to feed, so……. eh heh heh, I had to make money somehow.”

“So that’s how it is…… Um, couldn’t you have worked away from home in the Common Realm?”

Luck said in an unusually considerate way. Magna pushed his sunglasses to his face and answered for Morgan.

“It’s difficult for anyone born in the Forsaken Realm to get hired in the Common Realm. Well, someone born in the Common Realm wouldn’t realize that, though.”

He said this in an indifferent tone of voice.

“A lot of peasants have weak magical power, and others have such strange magic that nobody knows what to use it for, so they’re often judged to be inadequate as workers. Even if a peasant moves from home to work in the Common Realm, they would find nobody willing to employ them…… it would be a pointless waste of hotel expenses.”

However, most peasants find themselves unable to pay for those hotel expenses, so they end up working in the kitchens to pay that off. On the other hand, it’s not as if the Forbidden Realm has many jobs to offer, either. If a peasant has a large family filled with young children like Morgan’s, it would be hard just to earn enough food for the day.

“People unable to find work end up with no choice but to make money by doing dangerous work…... like her.”

Magna placed a hand on her head and apologized,  

“I’m a peasant, too, so I get it. I’m sorry for saying that you deserved to have your grimoire taken from you……. You had your reasons.”

“Magna-san……”

Seeing him awkwardly try to be considerate of her feelings, she couldn’t help but say his name.

“Thank you…… b-but, I’m sorry. All of that is true, but…… in the end, one of the main reasons I started doing this is because I like it.”

She apologized, and then, with eyes filled with sorrow, continued,

“I really am worthless, a good-for-nothing…… I haven’t mentioned this yet, but my magic really is strange. It’s called Coating Magic. I can coat things with magic, and while it’s coated, it becomes sturdier and heavier. But that’s all it does……”

‘…….I see. It sounds like it could be useful, but it would be hard to find a job with magic like that.’

“Plus, I’m a crybaby, and I’m stupid…… I’m ugly, and I have small boobs. My legs are short, and my teeth aren’t lined up properly. I can’t skip, and I can’t stand coffee. I’ve realized that my drawings look really weird……. Sniffle”

“H-hey…… let’s leave it at that. My bad. I don’t really get what just happened, but it’s my bad, okay?”

Magna was waiting for her to finish her endless deluge of negativity. There was no reason for her to be so worried about weak points like that, but it kept on going, so he felt like he needed to do something quickly to stop her.

“……But, even somebody like me could help others capture a dungeon, even just a bit.”

She wiped away her tears, a small smile forming on her face.

“When I thought about how even somebody like me could be useful to my siblings, to those people in the Magic Knights, to anybody…… eh heh heh, I started to feel happy. I know what I was doing was wrong, but with each dungeon I entered, I started loving this job more and more.”

“……I see.”

Even though she was clumsy and prone to negativity, capturing dungeons was her hobby. It may seem contradictory for her hobby to be a dangerous job she took up out of necessity, but that seemed to be the case.

“Ah, b-but, like I said before, all my siblings are old enough to work now, so I truly was planning to make this dungeon my last……”

“Well, I’d say that’s a good idea. This may be fun for you, but it really is dangerous.”

Magna said with remorse as he gave her a small, pained smile.

“Actually, with that kind of courage and ability to take action, I think you’ll be able to find plenty of other ways you can make yourself useful. Find a different hobby and help others that way.”

He gave her words of encouragement, but tears began to form in the corners of Morgan’s eyes.

“……I-In other words, as I am right now, I’m trash that can’t help anyone…… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that someone like me wastes the clothes on my back.”

“Okay, I get it. First of all, you need to fix that negative mindset of yours, and fast.”

He didn’t say this for her sake, but rather for all the people that have to deal with her.

“……Weird magic….. doing dangerous things…… and making money……”

While the two of them went back and forth, as if he just had an epiphany, Luck mumbled to himself,

“……Oh, I see.”

Before clapping his hands together and turning toward Morgan.

“Hey Morgan-chan, recently…… that is, ever since the monsters started appearing, have there been any places in this dungeon you haven’t approached?”

“……Huh?”

Upon being asked such an abrupt question, Morgan had a blank expression on her face.

“Umm, I didn’t want to get targeted by them, so I’ve been careful about moving around, but…… I haven’t gone near the treasure room, not even once. The golem that stole my grimoire might be there, so I’ve been afraid to……”

“I see. And, while you were looking for the treasure room, you removed a lot of trap magic, right?”

“……. Yes.”

“I see……”

“…… Hey, what the hell? What the hell do you see?”

Magna asked impatiently, but Luck just started mumbling to himself again,

“There’s at least five of them…… no, six. Well, there’s probably more.”

That’s all he said before turning back toward Magna.

“…….A ha ha, I think I might’ve figured out the true identity of those monsters.”

He said in an excruciatingly casual tone of voice.

“Wait, what the hell-

‘Do you mean!?’ is how he wanted to end his question, but before he could finish,

“GeGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

The monsters in question appeared, along with a thick, black smoke. Moreover, just as before, the monsters commenced a pincer attack. There was nowhere to run in this small chamber they found themselves trapped in, and, this time, there were no hidden passageways to be found.

“……What timing!”

Although they had decided on having an all-out battle with those monsters, their current location was terrible. They couldn’t use their full power in a narrow chamber like this, and it would be difficult to fight while protecting Morgan. It was as if those monsters were waiting for them to come to a place like this before launching their attack. However, they had no choice but to fight.

“Luck, you take care of the monsters in the back! I’ll pummel the guys in the front!”

Magna said to Luck before getting ready to fire his magic, but……

“No, let’s charge our way through the front!”

Luck completely overrode Magna’s instructions and rushed toward the group in front of them.

“Hey, wait!? You want to bulldoze through them!? There’s way too many of them!!”

Magna pulled Morgan along with him as they followed behind Luck. Luck didn’t slow down one bit, continuing to fire his magic.

“Just do it!!”

“……Fine!”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he had faith in Luck. Luck may be absurdly rash, but his intuition when it comes to battle was on-point. Luck sounded confident when he gave his orders, so that was enough reason for Magna to follow him.

“Hey, Morgan! Grab my waist and don’t let go!!”

“Eek! ……So you’re going to make me come with you after all!? “

As she shrieked, Magna confirmed that she was clinging firmly to him before turning around and facing forward. After doing so, Luck glanced back at them and nodded with his usual smile. Magna returned the nod, faced the enemies before them, and cast their spell.

“Flame-Lightning Explosive Cannon!”

The combo magic the two fired struck the monsters with a thunderous roar, wiping out the entire frontline of the monster army. Magna and Luck fired simultaneously at point-blank range. Normally, they would use all the mana they have to launch such an attack, but, this time, they held back to preserve their strength for later. Even though they were holding back, the power of their combo spell was still immense. It sent all the monsters at the frontlines flying in an instant, and the aftershock blew away the monsters at the center. It was a surefire one-hit killer.

However, just as before, the skeleton soldiers and dullahans quickly revived themselves. They didn’t appear to have taken any damage, but……

“Orraaaaah! Exploding Buckshot! Exploding Buckshot! Exploding Buckshot!”

“A ha ha! Thunderclap Crumbling Orb! Thunderclap Crumbling Orb! Thunderclap Crumbling Orb! Thunderclap Crumbling Orb!!”

Not seeming to notice or care, Luck and Magna continued to pummel them with their magic as if they were laying siege on a castle. The skeleton soldiers’ bones shattered into little pieces and turned to charcoal. The Dullahan’s armor got smashed up. It seemed that their attack rate was starting to outspeed their ability to regenerate. And then,

“GeGaaah…… GEGAH!?”

There was a slight change in the groans the monsters gave out. Even then, the two didn’t stop their attacks. On the contrary, their attacks continued to gain more and more momentum as they charged toward the monster army. Once they reached the rear guard,

“GeGaaah…….. Ge- wait!? What the hell!? Why aren’t they stopping!?”

The groans of those monsters changed into that of a human’s.

“A ha ha! We found you!”

He was waiting for this moment. Luck leaped up and flew toward the back of the monster army, where he heard the human voice.  

“Oh shit! Ohhh shit! They’re here! Hey, what do we do!?”

“H-hell if I know! It’s your fault for crying out like that!”

There were several stern-looking men hidden within the smoke. They were a rough-looking lot, all of them dressed in filthy-looking robes. If one were asked to imagine a bandit or robber, they would probably look exactly like that.  Moreover, all of them had their grimoires open.

“A ha ha! I…… knew it!”

After confirming their location, Luck shot a ball of lightning at their feet.

“Woah, Uoooaaaaah!?”

The instant they were blown away, the monsters stopped moving. Like a puppet whose strings were cut, they fell apart with a clatter.

“Haaah……. Hah….. I get it now.”

Magna walked up toward Luck as he caught his breath, while also confirming that Morgan was still clinging to his waist. With her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she mumbled,

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t do anything bad ever again. Please don’t turn me into pig feed……”

She was still conscious, so they supposed she was probably okay. She’s probably not traumatized. Hopefully.

“These guys were controlling those monsters…… right?”

“A ha ha! Probably~”

Luck said casually as he surveyed the men they caught.

“Earlier, you were talking about weird magic, right, Magna? I was wondering if a few people with weird magic could combine their spells to make something like those monsters~ A ha ha! Looks like I was right!”

As he talked, he got closer to their prisoners. Although they were blown away by such a flashy attack, they were still conscious.

“……Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Magna squatted in delinquent fashion in front of one of their prisoners, a bald-headed man, as Luck cracked his knuckles behind him.

“We have to pay them back properly for chasing after us so persistently……. Right?”

“ A ha ha……. Right.”

“Eek!”

Needless to say, the two had a dangerous look in their eyes.

— To be continued in Part 2 —

The fact Morgan has to risk her life to create maps of dungeons to sell for Magic Knights gave me a new found respect for all those video game npcs that sell your character maps. Like her, some of them must have gone into those temples and dungeons themselves to draw them. The things I don’t think about when I play Nintendo games….

Things might be rough for Magna in the manga right now, but it’s nice to see some more of Magna and Luck being bros.

This chapter was ghosts, next chapter is golems! 

[alittlefrenchtree]

Hi. I don't know if I can phrase my question in a way that says exactly what I want it to say and makes sense, I'll try. And if you see fit to answer, I'd be interested.

You wrote (if I understood correctly) that you have no opinion or position on whether Armie is or is not at fault and you are not the police or the courts or other authority to decide on this matter. This I understand and in theory I agree. However, in my opinion this means that any decision pleasing the competent authorities should be taken as the final truth. That is, if the LAPD says, for example, that they have found no evidence of the accusations, it means that Armie is innocent and the accusations are false. However, you yourself (again, if I understand you correctly), write about how you can easily imagine both a guilty person at large and an innocent person in prison and that if there is no evidence it does not mean that there was no crime (sorry I am not quoting verbatim, I hope I am not distorting what you have said). This position is also understandable to me and everyone is well aware that these types of crimes are very often almost impossible to prove. And in that context I wonder how, without having your own opinion on the issue of Armie's guilt, you would feel about the LAPD's decision, which at some point will be 100% done and announced?

Perhaps to add a bit of context, I have very superficially followed a case in another (European) country where a woman accused her ex-boyfriend of attempted rape. This ex-boyfriend is a public figure. The police investigated the allegations and said they couldn't find any facts to back up the claim (the investigation lasted about 6-7 months). So there was no trial because the case was closed. But the problem is that for many people this police decision means nothing and they keep demanding punishment for this man in a rather aggressive way. There is some logic in it too, because "no evidence" doesn't mean that the event "didn't happen". And here, in my opinion, we hit a dead end, because in an ideal world the moment a woman makes a statement, all the willing or unwilling participants would shut up, leave the media space and wait for the competent authorities to make a decision. In that same ideal world, the police do not make mistakes and can always answer the question of whether the accused is guilty of the crime committed. In that same ideal world, journalists report the facts and not distort them for cliques. But we obviously do not live in such a world and it is generally unattainable. And it turns out that, whether we like it or not, in most cases we have to form our own opinions on issues that we care about or somehow infringe on our interests.

I don't know if I have succeeded in expressing my thought and formulating my question. I guess what I want to ask in short form is this: do you rely completely on the decision of the police and/or the court in this particular case and accept them without question or will you evaluate this decision and so still build your own opinion at some point?

Thank you and sorry for the long question.

You have absolutely nothing to worry about and I deeply thank you for taking time to carefully read everything. You perfectly succeed to express your thought and I agree with you. About how things should be in an ideal world and how the world will never be the ideal version of itself. I also perfectly agree with how the situation looks like a dead end. This is why I’m so careful aobut me coming back or not because I absolutely don’t know if or how or when.

To answer your questions:

Do I rely completely on the decision of the police/court and will accept it without question? Of course not. It will most likely be what you said, like evaluate the said decision and incorporate it to my whole vision of the thing. Me mentioning the legal system is not about saying they’re completely reliable (because we all know it’s not true) but about it’s their job to investigate and judge and clearly not mine. My job is to be enthusiastic about movies and to scream about beautiful pictures and to hype work projects I’m impatient to see or already love.

So what will happen at the moment of an official verdict or decision or whatever for me? Probably not much. Like said, I’ll integrate this new element to everything else. I’ll wait to see what Armie’ll say and he’ll behave on a and examine how he makes me feel and decide where I’ll go from there.

Thank you again for your ask 🙏💜

[willow-salix]

Fluffember Prompt: Toy

Big massive thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for jumping in and writing this for me while I rest.

Day 20 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

 Kayo here... I was “convinced” to write this update by Scott...

 “Witchy has never skipped a day before in her isolation updates. We can’t let her down when she’s sick and needs her rest,” he said, using the pity card like one waves a white flag around.

“Then why don’t you write it? You’re her best friend,” I protested.

I’m not a writer. I don’t have Gordon’s knack for storytelling and exaggeration, or Alan’s naivete about life that makes his stories amusing. Scott is used to telling his brothers bedtime stories from when they were younger. Let him do it.

“I have to do office stuff...”

And then, he dared. He smiled his dimpled smile that no one on Earth and beyond can resist, except perhaps for Alan’s zombies and dead people.

“Office stuff.” I tried to sound unimpressed but to my greatest shame, I’m not impervious to the Dimple King’s magical powers and my resolve was already fading. I can’t say I’m very proud of that.

“I can’t postpone it... Please?”

He knows, the traitor. He fluttered his eyelashes, putting damsels in distress to shame and waited.

I do like Witchy and I do want to help her because she’s taking the burden of those idiots off of me when she’s here, so I caved in... I rolled my eyes at him and made sure my face showed how annoyed at him I was. “Fine, but you owe me now.”

“Deal,” he said. We shook hands and he sauntered away toward his office.

***

 Witchy was upstairs, resting (or trying to) and the others were relatively calm in the lounge, which is always a little suspicious. Personally, I would have gone to the training room to lift some weights or do a few fan forms, but I felt I shouldn’t wander off too far in case someone needed a reminder not to go and bother her. I was pondering about catching up on my reading or doing some office work when Virgil arrived from the hangars holding a flat box. “I was doing some cleaning and found a bin of old toys… Remember that game, John?” he asked, putting the box on the lounge table.

The box was faded and something told me that it was old enough to be not only from when the boys were kids and before I arrived on the island, but before that when Jeff was young. Why he kept some of those things, I had no idea. The garish yellow colour was an assault to the eyes in itself, and the silly-looking man pictured there didn’t improve things, nor were the bold red letters forming the word Operation.

John glanced up from his tablet and smiled. “Alan used to stick the tweezers on the edge and let the buzzer ring to no end until dad stopped him and gave him something else to do,” he said.

“Gordon used to tap rhythms and songs with the tweezers,” Virgil added.

“Did Jeff stop him and give him something else to do?” I asked.

“He’d wait for dad to be off with Alan to do it.”

“Then Scott would slap him upside the head,” John finished.

I barely managed not to roll my eyes. I can’t say I was surprised.

Alan opened the box and peered inside. “It requires batteries,” he commented, taking everything out.

Virgil went to fetch some in Jeff’s desk.

“Are you sure about this?” John asked.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s one way to pass time.” He smiled. “Afraid you lost your touch?”

“Not at all. I’m trying to spare you from a crushing defeat.”

All Tracys are competitive. All of them. Even quiet, suspectless John.

“Did I hear crushing defeat? I’m here for the show,” Gordon exclaimed, appearing from nowhere and eying the game on the table. “Wanna play, Kayo?”

I laughed. “No. I’ll take a seat in the peanut gallery,” I said, settling down in my usual launch seat. “I can handle the bank if you want.”

Let them ridicule themselves. I took the pile of false notes from him and Virgil distributed the specialist cards between the four brothers.

“So how do you play?” Alan asked.

“You pick a card and try to remove the part indicated on it. If you succeed, Kayo will pay you. If you fail, whoever has the specialist card can have a go and earn twice the amount if he succeeds. Whoever has the most money at the end wins.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

I saw the exchange between Virgil and Gordon and I think John’s mouth quirked. Nothing was simple with them. Not even children’s games. Why do you think I was sitting away from them?

They let Alan have a go at first. He picked Water on the Knee and successfully removed the plastic bucket. It was handed to me so that I could pay accordingly. John picked the Wish Bone, but as he positioned his hand over the board, Gordon leaned over and began singing close to his brother’s ear to try and distract him. John declared his tactic amateurish and also succeeded.

Apparently, the unspoken rules Tracy version of the game was to try and distract whoever was playing so that they failed. This included John shouting “Look out!” at Gordon at the last moment, Gordon imitating the buzzer sound each time Virgil approached the tweezers from the board, Alan—who caught on very quickly—inching his fingers close to the board as if he was going to rattle it when John had another go and Virgil fully integrating his youngest brother to the game by whispering something to him, which earned him a reply that I can’t write here.

The rowdy game was fully underway when Scott stepped into the lounge. “What are you guys doing? I can hear you all the way from the office,” he complained.

“We’re playing Operation,” Alan replied.

Scott seemed surprised. “I didn’t even know we still had that. I thought you took it apart when you were ten to see how it worked, Virg?”

“And put it back together. Wasn’t that hard.”

“Want to join us?” Alan invited him.

Scott seemed to hesitate. “I still have things to do and I should go back.”

I had to bite my lip to hold back my laughter when someone—and I think it was Virgil!—clucked like a chicken. And as expected, Scott took the bait. He sat down next to John while I was handed back all of the money and the specialist cards were gathered and redistributed.

“Hey, you can’t reset it, I was winning!” Gordon protested.

“You were not. I had $100 more than you,” Alan stated.

Gordon huffed, put the pieces back inside their respective spots, then couldn’t resist playing “Shave and a Haircut” with the buzzer. Scott’s reaction was instantaneous and he reached out to slap the back of his brother’s head twice without even missing a beat.

They all played a first round with varying degrees of success. Watching them play was more entertaining than actually playing. I began mentally assigning scores to their distraction tactics.

When it was his turn, Scott picked Writer’s cramp. The irony of the situation was not lost on me and I fought my better judgement for a whole two seconds before I decided to make a move—I am a Tracy at heart after all... I carefully shifted my weight as he concentrated and extended my arm... then at the last moment, I poked his armpit in that one location I know will tickle him then hurried to sit back straight with my bank notes in my hand and an innocent expression on my face.

He squawked like an offended seagull, hit the side of the game and made it buzz, then looked at the nearest brother accusingly. When said brother stopped laughing long enough to say it wasn’t him, he directed his suspicious eyes at me and I’m rather proud to say that I could keep a straight face and raised an eyebrow at him in return.

John was next. He picked a card... the bread basket. He took the tweezers from Scott’s hand and didn’t even try to be careful and made the game buzz in less than a second.

“HA!” Alan hooted out.

“You didn’t have to play if you didn’t want to anymore,” Virgil side-whispered to him.”

“Oh no, I’m playing,” he assured him, then took one of the specialist cards in front of him and flicked it between his long fingers before handing it to me.

He manoeuvred the tweezers with surgical precision, ignoring Gordon’s heavy breathing in his ear, and dropped the plastic slice of bread into my hand. “I believe that is $2000,” he said with a smug smile.

“Show off,” Virgil muttered good-naturedly while I counted the paper slips and gave them to John.

“My turn,” Gordon said, reaching for a card, “It says... butterflies in the stomach.”

The four others froze more or less visibly and Scott gave me a quick side-eye. He remembered the Venom incident, my aversion for the fluttery little creeps and how I made him pay for laughing at me. I ignored him and winked at Gordon. Surprisingly, he had been my hero at the time and I’ll never forget that. But that’s a story for another time.

Gordon extracted the item from the board without touching the edges. “Once again, I prevailed,” he claimed triumphantly, flicking the plastic butterfly in the air and catching it a few times.

I handed him two $100 notes and of course, Gordon being Gordon tried to take them while the game piece was still in the air. He failed, the plastic butterfly ricocheted off his elbow and landed somewhere under the furniture.

Little items like that never land where you expect them, especially on carpet, especially when bouncing off sharp Tracy elbows (I think we can all agree that they are not lumpy, Lady Penelope’s flirting techniques need a little improvement). I refused to join in on the search because, of course, too many people were there already and I was more helpful sitting in my seat with my legs crossed out of the way.

Gordon looked under the table, then moved on to the little shelf where my father’s bonsai tree and Lady Penelope’s communicator picture are located. He peered underneath, sneezed loudly, then backtracked in horror.

Screeching like a banshee, he rushed out of the seating area and fled toward the kitchen, nearly knocking over poor Witchy who stood at the top of the stairs.

“I go fight a lurgy for an hour, take a moment to get something to drink and this is what I come back to?” she said, visibly unimpressed by the sight of four Tracy butts in the air around the lounge table as they scanned the carpet.

I had to disagree with her on that, it was a rather interesting sight.

“Why is he even screaming like that, he sounds like he’s seen a ghost?” Gordon could be heard sneezing somewhere in the background and she rolled her eyes.

She strode to where he had been crouching and bent down and sighed. “Just as I thought... Scott, you forgot to close the office door again,” she said, reaching out and picking up Buddy the bearded dragon from his hiding spot before he scampered away.

She removed the plastic butterfly from his mouth and cradled him close. “I don’t want a repeat of last time when I had to get him in the vent—”

Witchy’s eagle eye spotted the twitch in John’s face instantly and he held her gaze, doing his own version of the Tracy smile to placate her. They did that fascinating wordless exchange established couples seem to be able to do for a moment and then, she then turned to me, noticed the fake bank notes in my hands and threw me a disappointed: “You’re encouraging them?”

I immediately pointed at John to defend myself. “He’s winning,” I said.

“If I draw brain freeze, I’ll be able to get you a lifetime supply of socks that don’t roll down. Think about it,” he deadpanned.

She looked at us as if we had lost our minds—she might be right—then stormed off with the dragon.

I guess I should go check on Gordon now.  And probably make a new batch of soup as a peace offering.

Author’s note: Shave and a Haircut is what “that knock on the door” is called.