#and started being able to just swing it rather than having to rely on momentum and redirection

[the-punforgiven]

Y'know how people always talk about weed being a "gateway drug" that leads into doing heavier and heavier drugs as you go on?

That's what longsword was to me, I tried fighting with a greatsword yesterday and I can't go back, I need another hit already lol

[leximsiel]

Audition.. audit what?

I saw one of those guys again today at another title Swing Dancing event.

Honestly, I am quite ill physically so I don't mind being put in a level where I'd be able to pace myself better. I also do not think I am (anywhere near to being) a brilliant dancer, as standards continue to grow (and deviate) with me still struggling to remember what I've forgotten. But if you're going to watch me for ~8 seconds dancing with someone who weren't really following in an audition setting (not at the event I'm currently in), then put me in the same category as people who have barely grasped the concept of stretch and compression (except for maybe 2 follows out of ~18), including more than half who rely on anticipation rather than communication and momentum, along others who utilise arm leading rather than body movements, I think it'd be a bit much for me to pay you any basic respect, especially if you've gone away to teach beyond your local scene. They were also so arrogantly certain with their decisions and offered no remedies. Thanks for a long weekend of boring classes (until the final class when I was mentally and physically exhausted).

Since Oslo a few years ago, I've avoided events that required auditions as much as I could. Desperate to re-inspire myself, this year I've gone to 4 such events among others. The first was okay and I felt most dancers were well sorted (probably because they only had 8 to 10 couples to watch at a time, even though there were about 100 people being audited).

The second was a disaster, dozens of dancers were made to dance repeatedly to songs ~200 bpm with few breaks, and I had the lucky pleasure to dance with 12 follows throughout that pretended to be following but didn't - this was only becoming a trend back in 2019, but seems it's now taken root (nearly had a follow whacking her elbow in my face yesterday, doing something completely out of the blue, I had to dodge). I was even more unwell than I am now so I didn't care where I was put, but I do distinctly remember one of the teachers saying dancers should be showing off all they have, and utilising all of the floor, not just where they started.

The third was described above, with one of teachers saying if you're being flashy, not doing the simple things, goes everywhere, that'd straight away be a downgrade for him. Strictly speaking, these two teachers at major events aren't completely contrasting each other, but are dancers expected to read minds of the teachers' preferred dance style in 'auditions' then? What sucky education system did you grow up in?

Anyhow, after this fourth one at a well reputed event, I'm now of the opinion that auditions just aren't something for me, and is potentially harmful to the Lindy community as a whole.

The level descriptor just did not fit about half of the dancers that were allocated there. Followers that expect you to arm lead them, present to you with a completely tense or self-moving right arm in open, the odd hand grabbing, moves ahead of any leading being communicated at all, leaders asking about how intermediate level stretches or directional communication is formed. 'Advanced'? Get out of here.

So I got to understand why it was eventually easy for someone to place me in the classes I got. But ha, the follow that didn't actually follow in the audition, nearly elbowed me twice in the face with random movements, grabbing my hand at least half the time, also got in. (N.B. Following isn't just about following in Lindy Hop, but I'm sure none of it includes initiation of the elbow towards the lead). So they're suddenly an Advanced dancer now, having been validated by you, who seemingly stand close to the top? Really? How is this helpful to them and others around them?

Bottom line: 'International' teachers may have great talent in their understanding and expression of the dance, and deliver classes at an exceptional level, but being able to judge other people's approximate / relative level of dancing by just visually observing them, is an entirely different talent - one which is becoming hugely apparent to me that not many possess.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

oh congrats! can you give some tips on building muscle when you dont actually have any weights? also how long does it take and do you need to eat so much protein? anything really. ive been wanting to build muscles on my legs though but i dont know how to start. i havent bc i feel my diet isnt too protein filled and idk how to go about it esp when i live at home and have to eat what they do so i feel trying to gain muscle would be too hard if i didnt have a set diet/protein plan

thanks! i'm really flattered to be asked for advice, but i'm afraid that the most salient advice i possess for gaining muscle is "be me", because it seems to be mostly through some kind of physiological quirk that allows me to gain absurd amounts of muscle absurdly quickly, with absurdly little effort.

i actually didn't realize HOW absurd my body is until i googled yesterday, because supposedly most people can only gain ~2lbs of muscle per month, or at most 5lbs with strict training, and here i was able to gain ~30lbs of muscle in just two months. and to be clear, i didn't follow any special regimen - my primary goals were to sleep better and increase my overall health, not to get ripped.

(i don't know what this physiological quirk is, but it's nothing new, i've just been more consistent with lifting recently. my mom still raves about how i picked up and carried around an enormous boom box when i was 16 months old, and how when i was 5 i got mad and pushed a chest of drawers taller than i was in front of my bedroom door. i'm absurdly muscle-bound even when completely sedentary. my old massage therapist, a former body builder/personal trainer, used to do a few resistance exercises with me to warm up my back, and he was always astonished by how strong i was. basically, my body dumped all its stats into muscle mass, to the detriment of literally everything else.)

anyway, with all the prefaced, i can give at least a few tips if you still want them, because yes, you can definitely do a lot without weights. there are plenty of effective bodyweight exercises, and if you're able to spend a little money, resistance bands are a great alternative to weights.

okay, so a few things: if you want lean, toned muscles, you do more reps with less weight, and if you want big bulky muscles, you do fewer reps with more weight. in terms of bodyweight exercises, like squats, this could mean just holding something heavy (like a jug of water or a backpack) while you do them.

next, proper form is absolutely crucial. especially if you're using any kind of weight, you need to research the proper form of any exercise you're going to do and then hold yourself correctly, as incorrect posture could negate the results you're looking for or even cause injuries. always be really careful with your neck and your back.

if you're using weights or resistance bands, do NOT rely on momentum to do your reps. you know how you see guys swinging their weights up when they're doing bicep curls? that might look impressive and get you more reps, but impressive and more isn't as useful as effective. the most effective way to build biceps, for example, is with isolated bicep curls (if you don't have a bench, sit and plant your elbow/tricep against your inner thigh), which will kick your entire ass if you're used to using momentum. move slowly, deliberately, focusing on the movement rather than how much you're lifting or how many reps you're doing.

also, don't underestimate the results of doing just a little, or starting with the bare minimum. one rep is better than zero reps. if you don't have the energy to push yourself, or if you hate winding up super sore, literally just do a couple, just get your muscles used to being used.

for building up your legs, i would suggest calf raises, squats, pliés, lunges, romanian dead lifts, glute bridges, or any variations of those that you feel comfortable doing. personally, i hate lunges so i just don't do them. if you hate doing a particular exercise, you're not going to do it, so find something else that you don't hate so much instead of trying to force yourself to do something you hate.

some other good bodyweight exercises are pushups (i do them against my bathroom countertop, and you can start just doing them against a wall if need be), crunches, reverse crunches, supermans, wall sits, chair dips, and doorframe rows. (and then there's dynamic exercises like jumping jacks and burpees, but i will not do jumping jacks for love or money, so fuck that.)

also don't overlook the benefits of yoga, if you have enough space and a mat or towel to use. look up strength building yoga routines and they will definitely kick your ass. a ballet leg workout would also do the trick.

on the nutrition side of things, i’m still working on figuring that out. i’m sure i’m not getting enough protein for the amount of muscle i have, but protein is a somewhat tricky thing, as it’s not all created equal. plant protein isn’t bad, but the issue with plant protein is that very few sources contain equal levels of amino acids, and you’re only going to absorb as much protein as the least amino acid in that source. so if the package says that it contains 20g of protein, that might be technically true, but if one of the amino acids in it is only 5g, then you’re only going to absorb 5g. (does that make sense? i’m not sure i’m explaining it clearly.)

the point is, if you want to get your protein through plant sources, you need a variety of foods, and you need to combine them. for example, you’ll get more complete protein by eating a combination of whole grains and legumes (like beans with brown rice, barley with lentils) than you’d get from legumes alone. good plant protein means eating whole grains, legumes, nuts, seeds, etc, not just eating protein bars made with soy protein isolate. that can definitely be difficult to do when you’re not the one doing the grocery shopping, or if you don’t have time to cook, or the money to buy healthy food.

animal proteins are more straightforward, but while i’m not at all vegan, i also just can’t do those low carb diets and eat meat all the time. it’s expensive, it’s time-consuming, and honestly i find it kind of gross. i try to use meat, dairy, and eggs in conjunction with plant proteins, rather than one or the other. plus, you can only absorb so much protein at once, so it’s better to try and get your sources consistently throughout the day rather than eating a big pile of chicken for dinner.

but all that said, you definitely shouldn’t be trying to exclude carbs and fat from your diet. your body is meant to run on carbs, fat, AND protein to function, and while making adjustments like less sugar and more protein might be helpful, you should never try to cut one category out altogether. personally, i think it’s better to just eat foods rather than try to cram myself full of isolated proteins.

anyway, i know that’s a whole lot of shit, and it’s kind of infuriating that i can put on muscle just from sneezing. but i also don’t think you have to dedicate all your time to gains in order to get some results, and doing a little is infinitely better than doing nothing. don’t freeze up because you can’t do everything all at once.

trying doing just one or two little things, and go from there. take care!

[died-by-the-scimitar]

Swords

She takes her request to Nicky who, she thinks, will be the least likely to laugh in her face at the ridiculousness of the matter as Andy is probably prone to do, won't even smirk or give her that raised eye-brow Joe has perfected. No, she asks Nicky because she has spent days tossing and turning, thinking about it and coming to a conclusion and he is the one who will take it seriously.

"Can you teach me how to use a sword?"

She is sitting on the roof of the small cabin in the woods they are at, there is a plate of biscuits next to her and Nicky has thrown her a Thermos with coffee, too, before climbing up himself. Andy and Joe went into the next town to get groceries some hours ago and it is likely to take them some more, leaving them to whatever they can come up with. Nile has settled on taking one of the books from the shelf to read.

"You want to learn how to use a sword? Why? It's not very practical and you are very good in hand to hand combat. With a bit of training, you'll only get better."

She sighs, steeling herself to list off all the arguments she has come up with, "I need something else, in case I can reach or shoot someone for whatever reason. The sword gives you more range, doesn't it? It's just as lethal but quicker and quieter, doesn't draw too much attention -"

Nicky scoffs at that but there's no venom behind it, it's a good-natured scoff that is closer to a chuckle. Nile decides not to count it as laughing at her.

"Try walking through 21st century Sudan with it on your belt. People only don't ask because they are afraid."

"I don't know, we might have a mission at a Ren faire or medieval market someday," she knows it's a risk to bring those up, both Nicky and Joe feel strongly about the historical inaccuracies.

He doesn't say anything, just takes the biscuit plate away from her and that's as bad as Nicky's disapproval for her words can get. She returns her gaze out into the woods, trying to ignore the urge to press and ask again.

Nicky finishes off the biscuits to teach her a lesson but there were only two left and he hasn't had any before. He slides down from the roof, lands on the ground and disappears out of her line of sight. Nile hears him rummage around for a bit and settles into her spot in the setting sun again.

At least she tries.

"Are you coming?" Nicky yells up at her and her eyes snap back open.

He stands in the middle of the clearing, two swords in his hands. She knows one of them, it's the one they went back to Paris for, the one he carries on missions. The other one looks similar but not quite. She can't pin-point the difference.

"What?"

"You said you wanted to learn," Nicky twirls his sword in one hand and Nile feels her face heat up at the ease with which he moves, "come down here and I'll show you a few moves."

She has never moved so fast in her life.

By the time the car pulls back into the clearing, Nicky has shown her how to hold and lift the sword and which stance to take. It's heavy and hard work, and Nile isn't doing half as well as she'd wanted to do but Nicky is a patient teacher and waits for her to adjust her grip every time she slips. He has explained the different directions a strike can go, has named them "dwarf," "giant," and "boar," and called some out for her to take.

When Andy and Joe get out of the car, they are already laughing and Nile wants to drop the sword and run inside before they can tell her how silly she is being for wanting to learn swordfighting. She stays, though, lowering the weapon instead of dropping it, watching instead of running. Joe howls with laughter and says something in one of the many languages they share that she doesn't understand and Andy doubles over, holding her middle as she tries to keep from falling. Nile thinks it must have been quite a joke for her to lose control that much.

She looks over to Nicky, ready to tell him to forget it, she can stick to firearms. The man has lowered the sword he used to show her the moves and scowls, almost pouts at the two others still busy gasping for air. Maybe it's not her after all, she thinks.

"Oh come on, I just asked him to show me how to use a sword," she sees the way Andy is holding onto Joe for stability and wishes they would stop.

"That's not it," Joe pants, eyes trained on Nicky, "it's that he thought the bloody long sword would be a good idea for you!"

"It's a perfectly fine and noble weapon, we used these for hundreds of years -"

Andy interrupts him, tears streaming over her face, "Noble, you say? Fucking clumsy and barbaric!"

She has to sit down after that and Joe bangs his head on the car, shaking it in disbelief. Nile doesn't understand the hurt flickering across Nicky's face, doesn't get the joke.

Joe manages to stand up straight and look at her out of wet eyes, "I'm sorry, Nile, it's just - the fucking long sword? Nothing could be less graceful, less suited for you to use! The long sword is no sword for you, it relies on strength and momentum, the wielder hurls it, rather than swings it, its cuts are chops, it's hacking, rather than cutting."

He needs to take a deep breath, his lips twitch as if he could still break into laughter again if prompted a bit. Nicky scoffs and this time, Nile hears the disapproval.

"What do you suggest then; a scimitar?" The air between them is charged, the challenge undeniable, "Nile asked me to show her and I did. The sword is a perfectly fine weapon and effective in what it's supposed to do. We don't all have the grace of a Yusuf al-Kaysani, to start dancing in the middle of a fight."

"No," Joe shakes his head, serious now, "no, Nile neither needs the graceless convulsions of a swordfighter, nor the embellishments and flourishes of a scimitar. You need something you can handle as a side arm, along the fire arm you carry."

He looks at her, eyes enquiring as if she can tell him. Every now and then, he makes sure Nicky is still there but he lets him work it out, doesn't interrupt his train of thought. Joe says a few words in an old language and Nile sees Nicky roll his eyes, hears him huff out a breath.

"900 years," he says quietly, "900 years and he still calls me uncivilised!"

She knows this kind of teasing between them and continues to watch Joe, unsure of what to expect from him once he has an idea. She is no longer sure what it is about, anymore and leaves the sword to sit down in front of the house.

It takes Joe a few minutes of hushed discussions with Nicky but then, he points at her, "You need a Dirk."

"A what now?"

Something is dropped into her lap as Andy stalks past her. She disappeared without anyone noticing before but turns to look at her, now with what seems to be a sheathed dagger in her hands.

"A Dirk," she says, "they used it for drummers and officers who didn't have their hands free. Long dagger that damages a lot when your gun doesn't cut it, easily wielded with one hand and able to defeat someone using a slow long sword, too."

Nile thinks Nicky might be close to cursing.

"You can learn how to use it," Andy nods at her, "and once you can do that, wielding a long sword is child's play."

Nicky doesn't disagree.

[allegra-writes]

"Fine line" part I

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader x Harry Osborn

Teen and Up

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Part of the "Fine Line" series. Welcome to the endgame.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

He had never seen you fight before. It was stupid of him, and potentially dangerous, to stop and think about something like that in the middle of a freaking battle, but he just couldn't help it. You were graceful, deadly. You and Kate Bishop moving together like a well oiled machine. Strike team Delta, Fury's pride. A blur of perfectly shot arrows and high kicks. 

But not even you were enough to stop the giant monstrosity in its path of destruction, not even him was. And it had hostages now. 

"Six!"

"I know K, I'm seeing it!"

"I'm on it guys!" Peter called back as he swung by you like a red and blue meteor, following the greenish abomination currently climbing up the side of a skyscraper, carrying a sports car on his free hand as effortlessly as if it was a toy. 

"One little question though" He switched to coms, "What the hell is that thing??"

"That thing" You explained, "is Norman Osborn…"

Peter's hand slipped, sending him flying face first into the building wall,

"Say what?!" 

"We'll fill you up later, Spidey" Kate quipped, "For now, would you mind giving us a hand before King-kong over there kills anyone? I don't trust his butter fingers not to drop that Audi"

"Yes, ma'am" You could hear Peter's smile in his voice, "S.H.I.E.L.D girls are so bossy"

"Well, we are your superiors..." You noted, finally arriving at the entrance of the building when he was already halfway to the top. 

"Ugh, I hate it when you pull rank on me" He groaned, swerving to dodge the shards of broken glass raining upon him.

You snorted, 

"No you don't"

"No, I don't" He admitted, "Kinda turns me on"

"Ew! Guys, I can hear you" Kate catched up to you, shooting an arrow hooked to a line around her belt. Peter wasn't surprised to see it hit its mark flawlessly on a ledge above his head, "Hi, hot stuff, need a ride?" 

You rolled your eyes, but wrapped your arms around her shoulders nonetheless, holding on tight. 

"Hey!" Peter protested, mid swing, "No flirting with my girl!"

"I saw her first!" Kate released the latch, and soon you both were ascending at breakneck speed, easily surpassing Peter, "Race you to the top, Spidey!" 

His laughter resonated through the coms, as he sped up to follow you, guns blazing into the battle.

…

There was no laughter anymore. The friendly banter and quick comebacks had died long ago, the second you had realized it was a trap. The goblin creature was far more intelligent than you were led to believe, having set the ploy from the very beginning, his seemingly driftless rampage through the city, not so random after all. 

And far more psychotic, as you had learnt when he tore open the car in his hands to reveal the terrified blond man inside. 

"HARRY!"

Peter's horrified scream matched your own.

"Well well well, it seems you awake quite the loyalty" a massive hand closed around Harry's torso, his indigo orbs finding yours across the rooftop "for such a pathetic little worm"

"Let him go, Goblin" Kate's tone was placating, almost gentle, "you don't know what you're doing…"

The creature laughed,

"That's what you think? What your imbecilic little investigation concluded?" Kate and you exchanged a look. Of course. Your investigation about the Green Goblin and other Oscorp shady experiments relied heavily on Norman Osborn personal files. The thought of the passionate scientist, who valued his work more than his own son, lying in his own research had never even crossed your minds. He had played you like a fiddle, misled you every step of the way, and you had bought right into it.

"I worked with S.H.I.E.L.D longer than you had been alive, and Fury thinks he can sic you after me? Two little girls playing spy and my own creation??" Harry looked about ready to pass out as the Goblin waved him around, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke.

Through the corner of his eye, Peter caught a glimpse of Kate inching closer to the beast, and was only half interested when he inquired,

"What do you mean your creation?"

"Everything special about you," The Goblin's deformed visage twisted in what Peter assumed was supposed to be a smirk, "came from one of my labs!"

"That might be true, you might have involuntarily given me my powers, but you didn't make me Spider-man" Peter countered, "Mister Stark gave me the suit, and showed me what it meant to be a hero, and I loved him and admire him more than you will ever be able to understand, but he didn't make me Spider-man either. 

I choose to be Spider-man, every day. I created myself, cause it isn't who we were made to be that makes us who we are. Our choices make us who we are! You might have the powers and appearance of a monster, but you don't have to be one!"

"If you really think that, you are even more stupid than I thought, Peter Parker"

"Pe-peter?" Harry gasped through the creatures crushing grasp around his torso. Peter hesitated for a second, before taking his mask off. 

"Yeah, it's me, buddy" He admitted, watching his friend's eyes go wide, "It's going to be ok, Haz. We'll get you out of this, I promise…"

Famous last words. Peter should have known better by then than to jinx things like that. Because not two minutes later, he was seeing Kate's little ambush fail, the creature's tail whipping around with enough force to send her flying against a wall and knock her out, Peter's own kick just a little too slow to stop the Goblin from grabbing you in his free hand.

"Wings? It has fucking wings??" Peter cursed under his breath, scrambling to follow the monster as he flapped his enormous, membranous wings, soaring across the city. But the creature had no intention of going too far.

"You say our choices make us who we are, very well" The Goblin challenged him, hovering above 700 feet of empty air, and Peter's heart stopped. "Let's see what yours are. What is it going to be, your friend… or your lover?" 

"Don't do it, Goblin!" He yelled, standing on a ledge, ready to pounce, when he saw it. Or rather, saw her, purple hair blowing in the wind, standing on the air, a little lower and further behind from the Goblin, one palm pointed down, creating some sort of sonic wave that kept her up. She signaled a series of orders with her free hand, and Peter nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough for you to realize something was happening. You twisted in the Goblins grip to see what was going on at your back. Oh, fuck.

"Make your choice, Peter. Now!" 

Norman Osborn let go of you and Harry at the same time, leaving you to watch your boyfriend dive for your ex. But you weren't falling, you were floating, cushioned by a column of vibrating air. 

"Don't worry, rookie," You heard an annoyingly familiar voice say, "big sis is here…"

Great. You were never going to live this down, now. 

Meanwhile, Peter had problems of his own, the momentum the Goblin had thrown his own son away making it difficult for him to catch Harry on time.

And even after he had the other man safe in his arms, he wouldn't stop squirming, fighting in his hold. 

"Noooo! Go after her! Save her!!"

Peter managed to land the both of them in a terrace, 

"She's ok! She's fine, see? She's got this! She's got this…" Peter finally released Harry, pointing up to the place where you still were hovering in the air with that other agent. 

"She… she's… flying?" 

"I think that is actually the other one's making…" Peter shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. Harry started pacing back and forth, obviously overwhelmed, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

"And you're Spider-man…" he turned to Peter, who nodded. "And that thing… what the fuck was that thing?" 

Peter hesitated,

"Apparently, a crazy scientist" he finally decided on a half truth.

"A crazy… Mate, what even is your life?"

"Honestly? I've been asking myself that same question for years…"

Harry barked out a watery, hysterical laugh. He wanted to punch the shorter guy, he wanted to throw himself at his feet and thank him for saving his life. To apologize for all the drunken midnight calls, and also stab him in his boyishly handsome face for being so fucking noble and heroic and brave and impossibly perfect and for stealing his girl. 

He clutched as his chest, the burn almost making him double over in pain, and he realized he was hyperventilating.

"Harry, Harry, look at me. Look at me! Do you feel my chest? Can you feel my chest under your hand?" 

Harry noticed then that Peter was pressing his open palm, splayed against the spider logo on his own chest. He nodded his affirmation.

"Good, feel how it moves? Breath with me" Peter ordered, "inhale…" 

Harry breathed in, in time with his friend's expanding chest.

"Now exhale" 

Harry let go of his breath.

"That's right, you're doing so great" Peter's praise warmed up something inside his gut. "Inhale…" and Harry did, catching a faint whiff of your perfume. Peter smelled like you, the realization making him notice just how close to each other they were, only inches apart. And he wondered idly if that was the view you were used to, the one you favored over everything else: warm brown eyes, staring into your soul, right before leaning in. He wondered if you appreciated those hard, muscular shoulders under your hands, before pulling him close. He wondered if Peter's lips still tasted like you.

And before he knew it, Peter found himself with Harry's mouth crashing on his.

He knew he should stop it, step away, but he was rooted to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of sensations. It was different from kissing a girl. Hard planes where he was used to soft curves. The tickle of scruff, and slightly chapped lips where he was used to your strawberry sweet lipstick. But as Harry's tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entrance, Peter couldn't help but open up to him, to surrender to him, as his tongue conquered every inch of Peter's mouth, a greddy, hungry victor. 

"I hate you so much" Harry breathed against Peter's mouth, even as his big hands came to frame the brunet's face, the metal of his finger rings cool against Peter's cheeks

"Doesn't feel like hate…" He quipped, before scraping his teeth against Harry's lips, tearing a moan out of him.

"No, it doesn't" the taller boy admitted, pushing one thigh between Peter's, gasping as he felt one of the hero's hands coming to rest against his lower back, pressing him closer. 

"You taste like cigarettes" Peter marveled, for some reason finding the bittersweet taste delicious. 

"And you taste like her" Harry replied, diving in again.

Peter froze. Her. You. His girlfriend. 

"Harry… Harry stop" Peter muttered, between nibbles "we need to stop. This is wrong"

"Feels right" The heir protested, teeth latching onto Peter's lower lip to stop him from pulling away. Peter groaned, but managed to break the kiss anyway. 

"It's not. We can't do this to her." 

Harry sighed, resting his forehead against Peter's, still reluctant to let go completely,

"I know…" he admitted. 

They stood like that for a few moments, willing breathings to calm, and hearts to slow down.

"You should go" Harry spoke finally, taking a step back, Peter immediately missing the warmth of his body in his arms. He wanted to say something, anything, to chase away the heartbreak, the loneliness in those pale blue eyes, but he couldn't. The knot in his own throat would not allow it. 

So he just stepped away, slipping his mask on, and jumped. He caught a glimpse of Harry's teary, red face, sticking out from the balcony to watch him go, before shooting off a web and swinging away, back to the skyscraper where Kate had fallen. Because if he knew you at all, that was exactly where you were going to be, taking care of your best friend.

…

"...I'm telling you, I had everything under control!"

"Is that why you were hanging 700 feet in the air?" The purple haired girl argued, crossing her arms over her chest, "Admit it, rookie, you're lucky I arrived just in time to save your ass. Again."

You were fuming, face flushed and eyes bright, and Peter found himself struck yet again by how gorgeous you were. A pang of guilt stabbed his stomach. 

"I didn't ask you too" You replied, petulantly, "and stop calling me 'rookie', I'm a level 9 agent."

"... I'm still higher than you"

"For one level!" You cried in frustration, "One single fucking level!"

"Would you two shut up?" Kate stumbled up, and Peter broke free from his haze to hurry and wrap a stabilizing arm around her shoulders, "You're giving me a headache"

"Yeah, that would be the concussion," purple quipped, "don't worry, Simmons should be here any minute to take a look at that"

"Yay, finally a sane person to talk to" Kate deadpanned. Purple ignored her.

"And you must be the boyfriend…" She singsonged, nudging you with her shoulder, "He's cute under the mask, how did you managed to get him to go out with you?" 

"Hey!" Peter and you exclaimed indignantly, in unison. 

"I'm kidding, jeez!" She raised her hands in surrender. "Come on, won't you introduce us?" 

You rolled your eyes, but complied anyway,

"Daisy, this is Peter Parker. Peter, this is Daisy Johnson, weirdo fancies herself my sister"

"Ooh, 'fancies'! You've spent way too much time with that brit boy, didn't you?"

"Daisy, I swear to god I will-"

"You need to tell her" Kate whispered, taking advantage of your distraction.

"Wh-what?"

She scoffed, Kate had never had much patience for anyone's bullshit.

"About what just happened with Harry. She will understand, Peter, I promise. But only if she hears it from you"

"H-how do you know?"

"I see better from afar" The archer smirked, before returning her attention to you and, apparently, your sister.

"Are they always like that?" Peter whispered, a little alarmed. Kate snorted,

"Just wait till you meet the rest of her old team…"  

"Yeah, what do you say, boyfriend?" Daisy smirked, mischievous glimmer in her eyes so much like yours, "Ready to meet the family?" 

Peter gulped, he really wasn't. 

To be continued...

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 36, Replies Part 1

1) ““Kyaa~ My name is Koichi Haimawari, I’m 19 years old and today is my first day at Vigilante school, but I’m running late! I hope Knuckleduster-sensei doesn’t scold me, nor that I collide with some cute upperclassman on my way, dropping my food and starting a romance story that will take 324 volumes to even get to handholding” -Koichi, shoujo protagonist in training.”- Koichi actually runs into a bunch of people and has the usual ‘romantic first meeting’ thing with passing students at least 2-3 times a week, but they’re always dissuaded from pursuing anything further because he immediately sees a fight around the next corner and they then get a front-row seat o witnessing his version of ‘crime-fighting’ which to an outsider looks like casual masochistism, freaking them out from further interacting with the ‘creepy weirdo’. Such is the pains of pursuing a life of vigilantism.

2) “Alright, we start off with the standard stuff, trouble on the street, and of course with two people that could snap Koichi in half without even breaking a sweat. The exact type of people he should stay far away from, and of course the type of person he’ll definitely mess with in 3… 2…”- As Koichi’s ‘crime fighting’ improves, so too does our ability to accurately predict his reactions, down to the second

3) “…

Alright Koichi, now you’re just asking to get punched.”-Hey, he’s got a new move, he wants to show it off as much as possible, strategic implementation be dammed- and it’s not like he’s encountered a bunch of accidents that would leave civilians dangling off rooftops and about to take a nasty fall. In fact, I don’t even think the majority of the buildings around the neighbourhood are tall enough for that- or at least, tall enough that he could feasibly save a falling body in time before it impacted solid concrete

4) “But, need to congratulate you, because they stopped fighting among them and focused on you instead. Amazing display of cunning and tactic to end a conflict, you learned that from a particular little bird, didn’t you?”- Alas, it used to work really well when Knuckle was around, because then he could sucker-punch a few of them in the back of the head before they knew he was there, but without him, Koichi’s just drawing fire without any feasible way to ‘stop’ getting attacked besides the aggressors having vented their frustrations out on him- and it’d not like he’s Izuku I-can-do-this-all-day Midoria, keeping on going even after his arms and legs have been broken. 

Koichi’s got a normal pain threshold, and since his quirk mainly relies upon manoeuvrability, avoiding hits at all is his best choice- though sadly, if his attackers don’t hit something, they’ll just keep swinging until they hit him or a passer-by.

5) “oh my god the handprint on his fucking face jesus Koichi. Also, geez, I wonder why are you getting your ass handed to you more now that you became an static target rather than a mobile one.”- Well, he can still move around on the side of buildings like he does on the ground, it probably just takes him more of an effort to push upwards agasitn gravity than he’s used to- if he can get his momentum going on a vertical surface then it’s like being on solid ground to him, just with the fact that he has to keep pushing in a certain direction to avoid sliding to the ground. But yeah, he’s tending to get beaten up a lot more because by showing off his new move, he’s placing himself at the optimal level to be punched like a normal person, not to mention stuck still on a vertical surface. 

He’s basically forfeiting the main advantage of his quirk’s ability be zipping around at the hard-to-reach knee height at high speeds, all to show off his cool new move to people who don’t know or care about it. Koichi needs to get over his fanboying at realising his ability is cooler than he thought and start thinking about practical applications for his power- like being able to stop at eye level to point a piece directly between some aggressors’ so they decide it’s not worth catching a bullet in the head to be fighting out in the streets like that.

6) ““Also the mailman, the supermarket cashier, my teacher… I didn’t even said anything to them, they just saw me and immediately went ape shit. I managed to get away but… The old lady that walks her chihuahua around the block, I don’t think I’ll survive another encounter against her” -Koichi, probably.”- Koichi mastered the art of drawing Aggro from a young age, but alas, not to the extent of learning how to stop doing it all the time.

7) “Also, wouldn’t recommend you going to visit your brother-in-law right now Koichi, he still has his gun, the nurses tried to sedate him but he refuses to let go of it, and his rubber bullets already seriously injured three doctors and a pigeon that landed on his window”- They’d have a better chance of getting Phelps to let go of his rigid belief in the law before letting go of his gun.

8) “Oh god no, not brainstorming, I suck at brainstorming you have no idea. Whenever I need to use my creativity my mind goes blank and then an elevator music starts playing in the background until its over.

Hopefully y’all will be better on that front than I am.”-  On that note, any ideas for what kind of merchandise they could be selling at those concerts, besides the examples shown? Question open to anybody who wants to answer.

9) “IT’S THEM

THEY ARE SITTING TOGETHER

ALSO THEY WANT TO BRING TONY BACK HELL FUCKING YEAH I APPROVE THIS CHAPTER ALREADY”- I’d buy merchandise of those two doing a music video dance together whilst Tony does a smooth jazz solo song as accompaniment.

10) “I WANT PICTURES OF THOSE TWO ON A DATE GODDAMMIT”- It’ll be easy enough to get, just need to have a photographer hide out in one of the rose bushes that spontaneously generates in their presence whenever they’re together.

11) “So, the idea is more on the lines of souvenirs, they are trying to create a very specific atmosphere here, which is nice, but it means that they’ll need to be really creative with what they’ll be selling, their options are somewhat limited.”- Koichi saw his opportunity to get his opinion noted for the ‘perfect merchandise’ within those limited options and he took it, with a tenacity of will that would have made Knuckleduster proud if he could apply it to actual combat.

12) “OH GOD THE J-MAN ARE HERE ONCE AGAIN, OH THIS IS DEFINITELY GOING TO BE AN EXPERIENCE, ALRIGHT.”- Might you say… a Golden Experience?

13) “Second: Those girls are worried about koichi, as any grandma would be. They are wondering if he’s eating right and sleeping well, although, going by how he passed out of boredom one can say that he has no trouble falling asleep.”-Nor waking up, so long as the magic code words ‘Wearable merchandise’ are mentioned in his vicinity. It’s like smelling salts, and especially effective should Koichi succumb to sleeping gas or the like whilst out on the job

14) “Oh god, the beast has awoken from his slumber, and he look high as shit, as usual. Alright Koichi, do you have any suggestion, like a device to propel small metallic projectiles forward at high speeds?”- The same as his answer for any suggested group-creation project, with the cravat that he honestly does believe it’ll work somehow, like he’s mass ordering super Mario powers/costume changes to help him fight crime in different looks and abilities… Pop might need to schedule a counselling session for Koichi, I’m starting to worry that all this non-stop crime fighting is affecting his outlook on reality.

15) “If there was ever something resembling respect for koichi on their minds, rest assured it was completely and totally annihilated after that last… I don’t even know what to call it, so let’s go with “idea presented”.”- Even Teruo Thought it was a dumb idea/suggestion, and he’s a hardcore fanboy who shot himself up on trigger and had trouble with the law for a chance to meet his idol- that’s how inane an idea it was Koichi, and the distressing thing is you earnestly believe this, like some kind of Magic feather deal. One of these days Koichi, you’re going to have to go into battle hoodieless, and you better pray you know how to fight crime without your security blanket then…

16) “KOICHI PLEASE YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING KID, STOP MAKING A SCENE, POP IS GOING TO BEAT YOUR SHIT IF YOU DON’T BEHAVE YOURSELF”- everybody’s a kid at heart for that one piece of their childhood nostalgia, that show or tv programme that reminded you of what it was like to be young and carefree again before the weight of the cruel reality of this world bore you down to the ground and slapped you awake from your fantasies. Mine was either Avatar the last Airbender, or How to train your dragon, but I’m plenty sure there’s others out there with similar fond memories. 

In Koichi’s case, the hoodies remind him of what it was like to be a kid earnestly hoping to be an official hero one day and playing make-believe in preparation for that, much like Izuku used to play-act with his mom. And I think wearing the hoodie does act as a psychological trigger of sorts for Koichi to get going in ‘hero mode’ for real- sorta like he internalised the opinions everybody held about him being unable to be a hero on his own merits growing up, but wearing the hoodie gives him a sort of jiminy Cricket-like voice of confidence inside himself saying the sort of things he wished he could hear from others before Knuckleduster showed up, like ‘you can do it! Don’t be afraid! You got this! Etc’ which lets him act heroically, and thus feeds his delusion that he’s channelling the Power and confidence of All Might himself when he wears his merchandise. @thelreads

[jadekitty777]

Fall For You

*Runs in screaming and slams this down with forty minutes left to go* 

I will not lie that this one is not my best. Time crunch got to me and I kind of rushed this one. Um, but... I finished? 8D

Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, reblog,or comment on my stories this week! Your support has been greatly appreciated and encouraging. Another thank you goes out to the many of you who inspired me to write some of these stories; they wouldn’t exist if not for you. Finally, a thank you to all the other participants who made such great fics and art this week;  you all are awesome!! 

Day 7: AU

Dedicated to: @tama-negis (I formally apologize though; you deserve something so much better than this)

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 2.7k

Ao3 Link: Fall For You

Summary: To Qrow, there was no greater feeling in the world than the sensation of flying through the air, nothing but the bar and Clover to rely on.

That's why the fall was so devastating. [Circus AU]

~

“Net check!”

Qrow rolled his eyes as Clover fell backwards off the trapeze platform, saluting as he went. He looked over the edge just to make sure his partner hadn’t died, before shouting down at him, “You know, after two years, that’s decidedly less impressive.”

“Don’t lie. You love it just as much as you love me.” He was too far to actually see if he was winking, but Qrow knew he definitely was.

Rather than respond, he just continued on with the safety check. He gripped at the bar, pulling on it. No give, no worrisome noises. Rigging seemed secure. He took another step back, before doing a running leap off, holding on tight as he traveled over the net until he came to a stop at the center of their stage.

He twisted his body upwards, landing on the top of the bar and swung back and forth lazily, listening carefully to everything above him. During a performance, over the roaring crowd and blasting music, it was impossible to hear any of the small, subtle sounds of the cabling above. So, any out of place screech or worrisome clonk that could imply something was about to give would go completely unheard. But in the near silence of the empty Big Top, he could hear even the tiniest creak of the frame as it bore his weight.

Nothing out of place.

He slipped his feet off the bar, freefalling for a fraction of a second before his arms caught it. Everything held. Just as it had the last two times they’d done the check throughout the day. He thought it was a little excessive, but James was a stickler for routine, and after taking partial ownership of the circus, had immediately enacted the three-check rule.

There were a lot of those kinds of changes the performers of the former “Marvelous Circus of Oz” had to put up with when they officially became partners with James’ “Fabled Ace Ops”. Higher demands on performance training, complete restructuring of acts and teammates, stricter guidelines on fashion. Qrow wasn’t even allowed to wear nail polish anymore.

“You got to be fucking kidding me!” He remembered shouting at his new boss. “What do you think’ll happen Jimmy? Is my polish gonna eat through the bar?”

Ozpin had to pull him aside after that one, practically pleading for him to cooperate. It was hard to continue being pissed off when he had to face his old friend’s weary, desperate eyes. He knew this was a shitty situation, for all of them. But it was either this or all of them be out of a job. So, Qrow let it go and tried his best to play nice.

Though, he supposed as he turned around on the bar to face the platform Clover was once again standing on, not everything that had resulted in the merger was terrible. Sure, he’d been downright hostile when James had first reassigned Raven with Summer’s act and appointed his own star trapeze artist to him – but it didn’t take long for Qrow to warm up to the other man. Clover was like a magnet of good qualities: friendly, confidant, encouraging, honest.

He was also ridiculously attractive, so that was a plus.

Qrow rocked his body, gaining momentum until he could swing himself back over to the platform, securing the bar down. “Alright, we’re good.”

“No, you missed something.” Clover spoke up.

“What?” He looked around, doing a mental catalogue of his checklist. “No, I didn’t. Wha-ah!”

Strong arms wound around his waist, pulling him in and a big, wet sloppy kiss was planted right on his cheek. “You forgot the kiss for good luck.”

Qrow snorted. He didn’t believe in superstition, especially with names like theirs. He had to of gotten every good luck-bad luck comment probably known to the universe. Didn’t mean he wasn’t above teasing about it. “You’re disgusting and a heathen.”

Clover gasped loudly, before whirling them around, letting him go. “Oh Qrow, my love! How could you wound me this way?” He backed up the two steps it took to get back to the edge, hands crossing over the center of his chest. “The pain, it’s just too much to bear! Goodbye cruel world.”

And with another wink, he went back over.

Qrow tried, he really did, but even biting down on his lip didn’t stop the guffaws that escaped as he looked down again. “You’re an idiot!”

“Joke’s on you,” He hollered back triumphantly, “I’m yours!”

Even with the distance between them, he was sure Clover knew he was smiling.

~

The night was going spectacularly well. The audience was receptive and easily emotive. They’d gotten loud cheers for Summer and Raven’s silk dance and wows for Elm and Vine’s high-wire act. It had been a while since they’d had a crowd this good and the rest of the crew was feeling it too, all of them buzzing to get on stage and feed into the energy.

“Alright, Marrow and the kids are finishing up. Qrow and Clover you’re up. Robyn and Tai, get ready to follow.” Oz called as he snaked his way between the teams, popping his top hat back on his head as he went.

“Ah, what a shame that your act will be completely overshadowed by ours.” Robyn taunted. Though she lacked malice, her pride wasn’t unwarranted.

When people thought of circuses, they thought of all the typical acts: animal taming, clowns, trapeze work. No one really thought of fire arrows. It was the only act of its kind in the world, and one that had happened by complete mistake.

Robyn, from James’ crew, was an extremely precise archer – able to split her own arrows and even bounce them off other obstacles and still hit a target’s bull’s-eye. Tai, from their circus, was their fire performer, his talents ranging from being able to spin and juggle batons that were ablaze on either end to swallowing lit torches and breathing plumes of fire upwards like a dragon. Early on into the merger, the two just happened to be practicing by one another, showboating and trying to one up each other on their skills. One thing led to another, and Tai ended up challenging Robyn to shoot through his flames and still hit her target.

It was when she pulled it off, that the idea to combine their acts was born.

Qrow wouldn’t deny it made for a hell of a sight – but that didn’t mean he’d let her get away with her ribbing without giving back a bit of his own, “Please. Ours will be so good, they won’t be able to get it off their minds long enough to pay attention to yours.”

“Hah, you wish!”

Clover, smug as can be, threw an arm over his shoulders as he added, “Now Robyn, you know wishes are for stars, of which Qrow and I happen to be.”

“And they say I blow a lot of smoke.” Tai intervened with a wave of his hand, “Get on outta here you two before you end up holding up the whole show.”

Anything more that they might have said was interrupted by the sound of laughter floating in with Marrow, Ruby and Yang as they returned backstage. The three were propped up on each other’s shoulders like a human Leaning Tower of Pisa. Qrow and Clover were quick to assist the younger man bearing their combined weight, helping the younger girls down on their feet.

He didn’t have a lot of time, but Qrow still took a second to ruffle Ruby’s hair. “Good job kiddo.”

The eight-year old gave him a tooth-gaped smile, saying, “Break a leg Uncle Qrow!”

“In thirteen places.” He promised, before following his trapeze partner out into the darkness of the stage.

“And now, it’s the moment you all knew was coming. Introducing our Flying Aces, Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi!” Ozpin’s voice boomed from where he stood in the center of the stage.

Qrow linked his arm with Clover’s just as the spotlight moved to capture them, both of them raising up their free hands up high as if catching the applause from the audience. So close, it was obvious how similar their clothing was – himself in a black leotard that blended into red and Clover in a complementary white to green one. Though turned from the crowd, on their backs was a design choice Qrow himself had insisted upon: Wings to follow the color gradient.

They were the Flying Aces after all.

Oz continued with his announcement, but having heard it so many times before, he mostly tuned it out as he and Clover split from one another, each of them climbing up the ladders to the platforms opposite each other. As the final words from their ringleader faded, the lights below went out, bringing all the attention skyward.

Qrow unhooked the bar that he’d secured only hours ago. The music started to roll, but the moment he went swinging off the platform, it was as if everything else faded. There was nothing except him, the bar and the sensation of wind and weightlessness as he turned his body around, hooking his knees around the edges and hanging down free. As his movement slowed, he eased his grip, gravity bringing him down into a short drop before his ankles caught onto the edge instead. After another few moments, he unhooked his left, all of his weight now on just the right leg as he let his free limbs spread out wide like a taxidermist’s greatest prize.

Mostly he was a distraction, performing small tricks while Clover got into place, throwing himself off his own platform to gain momentum so he could prepare to catch him. He knew his partner was ready when he signaled him with a salute. Qrow pulled himself up so his legs could dangle once again, pushing himself into motion once more. At the apex of their swings, he let go, Clover gripping his wrists easily. They flew together briefly, before he returned him to the bar, Qrow doing an easy spin midair to catch it.

It was his second leap that earned them applause, this time somersaulting twice in midair before being captured. Even over all the white noise in his ears, he could make out Clover’s exhilarated chuckles and a breathless laugh left him as well. This was something they shared: The excitement of the flight, the adrenalin born from hanging freely nearly thirty feet in the air, the thrill brought on with each completed trick as their routine built together.

The joy of doing it all with someone he loved.

Without question, it was that last one that made him do what he did next.

Qrow’s hands clasped onto the bar as he was thrown back to it, swinging his legs up and fitting them between his grip so he could hang upside down again, this time prepared to grab the other man so they could move into the second part of their act.  Clover took his turn to fly over, doing a flip of his own.

But Qrow didn’t move into position for the catch.

Hours later, when asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone precisely what it was that warned him – maybe he heard something snap. Maybe he noticed a change in his balance. Or maybe it was just a feeling in his gut. But somehow, he knew.

So, for the first time since they’d perfected the move, Qrow missed.

Clover went flying one way.

As the rigging broke above him, Qrow went the other way, further and out of control.

The freefall sensation wasn’t unfamiliar to him – he’d dropped thousands of times before. On those rare cases it was unintentional, he was usually even talented enough to make it look like part of the act.

The white-hot agony that laced through him as something impacted his side with the force of a bullet was new though, unexpected in its ferocity.

It was all his mind could grasp at until he was bouncing off the edge of the net and the ground rushed up to meet him.

~

Incessant beeping roused him.

His first thought was he immediately wanted to go back to bed. Whatever the hell he had been doing must have been brutal, because his body ached all over, particularly centralized in his shoulder and hip and his stomach was especially throbbing.

Qrow made a noise in the back of his throat, trying to raise his arm to shut off the alarm, only to find it oddly weighted. His head flopped to the left and he grumbled, “C’ver, ‘larm.”

Suddenly the weight lifted, still there but entirely focused on his wrist. Oh, it was a hand.

“Qrow? Hey babe, you awake?” Clover’s voice coming from above him rather than beside him was what finally got him to open his eyes.

Immediately he realized he wasn’t home in the trailer when instead of just more bed and a window, there was a machine next to him and a wall a few feet away. The machine was the thing making the noise. His gaze rolled around, taking in the IV stand next and gathered a pretty good guess on where he was.

A shift made him look towards the figure hovering over him. His partner looked like a wreck, expression pale and drawn. Dark circles were laden under sleepless eyes.

“Hey.” Soft as his voice, Clover’s hand brushed through his hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Qrow replied, swallowing around his tongue which felt oddly swollen. “Heavy.”

“Yeah that’s probably the anesthesia wearing off.”

“Anesthesia?” That didn’t sound promising.

His partner took a moment to pull the chair behind him closer, sitting down right at his bedside. The hand still holding his squeezed lightly. “Do you remember what happened?”

Shifting through his own head, vague memories of spotlights and soaring through the air came back to him – as well as a stomach-dropping sensation that wasn’t meant to be there. “I fell.”

Clover’s voice shook a little, “Yeah, you did.”

There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but the most important one came out first, “How bad am I?”

“You’re gonna be okay. You, have a few fractures but, nothing major broke.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Your stomach’s a mess though. When the cabling gave out, part of it snapped back and hit you. It ripped right into your intestines. You were in surgery for six hours.”

Qrow took that in sluggishly, focusing mostly on the first part. It meant he could still perform. The rest of it could wait for more thought another day.

So, he moved on. “What ‘bout you?”

“Hm?”

“Where were you when I fell?”

“I, uh,” Clover’s laughed, but it sounded a bit wrong. “Down on the net. I was uh, flying over to you and you just didn’t catch me. I think you knew something was wrong, ‘cause Summer said you never even reached for me.”

The significance of that hit him instantly. There were a few universal rules any trapeze worker knew – the topmost being just how vital it was for the flyer to swing after a catch. The human skeleton was a surprisingly delicate thing, and the arc of motion that followed alleviated all of the pressure the body underwent from the flight and drop. But, if the flow of motion was hindered or stopped all together, say by a snapping cable line, all that pressure suddenly didn’t have anywhere go and instead the force would compact onto the body.

At best, the sudden whiplash would have injured Clover’s spine, maybe bruised an organ or two.

At worst, it would have broken his neck.

His partner lifted his hand, lips pressing against the back of his skin as he whispered reverently, “You saved my life.”

Qrow let out a slow breath, mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Nah. I just took falling for you real literally.”

This time, when Clover laughed, it was much more genuine, even as tears finally flowed from his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

His reply was a victory: “Joke’s on you. I’m yours.”

With no distance between them, neither of them could miss the other’s smile.

[racke7]

Weapon summary for writers

So, for a while now I've been thinking about what constitutes as a good “beginner's weapon”.

Obviously, we're excluding firearms and things like crossbows, because for all that it can take years to become skilled at it, it's not uncommon to figure out enough of the basics to be lethal within an hour.

Now, first it must be said that the “usefulness” of any weapon is based entirely around the situation they're used in.

A mace for example is a brilliant way to fight off a heavily armored opponent, but kind of loses a lot of its comparative usefulness when fighting unarmored opponents, as another weapon may be able to chop a limb off instead of just bruising it.

A spear is king on an open battlefield, but largely useless during the boarding-action of a ship at sea.

A shield is extremely useful for a number of reason, but also a massive pain in the ass to carry around for long periods of time if you're not going to be seeing active combat. And armor works much the same.

In other words, context is key to finding out the usefulness of a weapon, and equipping a beginner with an “easy to use” weapon that is useless for the purpose of whatever fighting is going to be occurring is pointless.

So, let's try to sort out a few general rules of thumb.

Swords

Swords are brilliant side-arms, meaning that they're very easy to carry around with you through everyday life. This is also the reason why they're so prominent on the battlefields, because people carry them around as backup weapons, since they won't get in the way.

Swords are rarely above 1,5kg in weight (usually hovering around the 1,1-1,2kg), though depending on the weight-distribution they can feel easier or harder to move (basically, the principle of leverage). The closer the weight-balance is to the hilt of the sword, the easier the sword is to move, however it also loses on “chopping power” because the tip of the blade becomes lighter than the base.

Needless to say, in order to swing a metal-stick around with a single hand does require a certain level of physical fitness. This can be mitigated with bigger grips that allow for two hands, since this gives the wielder more leverage against the weight of the blade. (Please note that rapiers are one-handed swords.)

There are straight swords that are “chopping oriented” and there are curved swords that are “stabbing oriented”, but generally if there's a curve in the blade there's an assumption towards chopping.

In order to properly chop with a sword, the blade needs to align with the direction the cut is aimed in. Basically, you can't cut someone by hitting them with the flat of your blade. However, because a sword is “springy” it's not quite enough to get the blade “kind of in line” with the chop, since it will want to bounce away rather than bite into the enemy. This is the kind of thing a person who works with swords for a long while can still screw up on a regular basis (though, obviously there will be improvements over time).

With this in mind, swords are very easy to bring with you, but depend highly on the skill-level of the individual to use. However, they're not impossible to learn how to use, and they're a moderately effective weapon for both offense and defense. And they're certainly better than nothing.

Bows

Bows are brilliant weapons of death, but they're difficult to aim, and even more difficult to use.

Highly dependent on a very high level of upper-body strength, a bow very much isn't the kind of thing you can pick up over a weekend (an actual combat-bow that is, ones with a smaller draw-weight are entirely possible to learn at least the basics of over a weekend).

A bow's ability to pierce armor largely depends on the draw-weight of the bow and the shape of the arrows. But it also depends on the kind of armor that the enemy is wearing. Plate or mail, what type of mail, etc.

Bows are an extremely effective weapon for hitting someone “over there” without allowing them the opportunity to come “over here”. They're therefore often included with fortifications, whether that be stone walls, hastily erected palisades, or even a spear-wall.

Bows are also very delicate weapons, because they're designed to survive the forces in one specific direction, and anything that interferes with that even a little can easily break it. The string of the bow is also very sensitive to things like moisture, and leaving a bow strung for longer periods of time is very bad, as it would deform both the string and the bow.

Shooting a bow is physically exhausting, easily on par with shoveling snow for several hours, and it will give you the muscles to prove it.

Axes

An axe works by using the momentum of the swing to hit the enemy with a chopping-blow. It's a highly offense-oriented weapon, with basically nothing at all going for it defensively.

It's fairly easy to use, because it can be considered a kind of “advanced club” and humans instinctively understand how to hit people with a club. (This is in fact one of the problems most people have with trying to wield a sword, in that a sword isn't best used when treated like a club.)

However, it has drawbacks in that there's a fairly small edge with which to hit the enemy. This can lead to a powerful chopping-blow being turned into an easily-ignored nuisance when you end up hitting the enemy with the wooden handle instead of the metal edge.

As mentioned before, axes also lack defensive options, to the point where anyone with a sword could likely slice off the unwary person's fingers without too much effort. Which is why axes were used almost exclusively with a shield readily available, which could defend the hand holding the axe and allow the wielder to use their entire reach without worrying too much about overextending.

Because it relies heavily on the momentum of the swing (and isn't constructed as a piece of wobbling metal, but instead as a solid chunk of it), an axe relies a lot less on the importance of edge-alignment than a sword. But it's also likely to be a bit more exhausting to swing around, since the weight-distribution makes it harder to leverage it into a swing.

Maces

Much like axes, maces work by hitting the enemy really hard with a swing. The difference being that they lack the chopping edge, and instead deal “blunt” or “piercing” damage, depending on the shape of the mace.

It has a lot of the same weaknesses that an axe does, but has even less to worry about with edge-alignment than the axe. It does however come with the drawback of not being nearly as focused on having “stopping power”.

Primarily it's designed for a person with armor to hit another person with armor. It has a very “consistent” kind of stopping-power, regardless of how much armor a person is or isn't wearing. But that also makes it compare a lot less favorably to something like a sword or an axe when fighting against unarmored opponents.

Shields

There's a lot of different kinds of shields in existence, everything from tower-shields to tiny bucklers, and they're all useful for very different kinds of situations.

Tower-shields are useful in a formation of pikes, kite-shields and “viking”-shields are useful for pretty much anyone not using a two-handed weapon, and bucklers are very easy to carry around if you happen to get ambushed on the way to the grocers.

Despite the fact that they're defensive things, they can be used offensively. Not just in smacking an enemy with it, but in using the shield to cover the hand that holds the attacking weapon, thus allowing them to “overreach” without actually overreaching. It can also be used to bat aside an enemy weapon and close the distance in order to hit them with your actual offensive weapon.

Daggers

Much like swords, not all daggers are the same. Some are made for stabbing, some are made for cutting, some are made for crafting, and some for decoration.

In general, a dagger designed for stabbing will have a diamond-shaped straight blade and some kind of hilt to keep the hand from slipping onto the blade when the dagger is “stopped” by the enemy's body. This is a very effective design for getting through armor, particularly mail.

A dagger designed for cutting will have a wider and thinner blade, often curving at the tip, and with another curve at the back of the hilt to keep the dagger from slipping out of the hand when swinging it around.

Daggers made for “crafting” can come in a wide variety of different shapes, and daggers made for decoration can come in even more shapes than that. (Note however that a blade with any kind of “irregularities” is going to catch on something the first time you try to use it, and is not unlikely to either sprain your wrist or twist the blade beyond recovery.)

Spears

Spears (halberds, pikes, etc) are the kings of the battlefields, and are especially deadly against cavalry. Best used in massive formations with shields, spears are easy to manufacture and not all that difficult to train a group of “peasants” to use.

Spears are basically useless in close-combat however, and are therefore highly vulnerable to enclosed spaces and enemies that somehow makes it in close despite the wall of spears. (This is why the Roman legions carried a short-sword to go along with it.)

Recommended method for dealing with a spear-formation is probably to retreat over a marshland and then pelt them with rocks as they try to follow you. Basically, they're too dangerous to risk engaging with unless absolutely necessary.

Summary

If you have a character who joins the army as a peasant, give them a spear. And maybe a few lessons in how to use a short-sword.

If you want a “single warrior“ kind of untrained battle-genius or something, give them an axe and a shield (most people of that time would at least be able to chop firewood, and even most people these days can swing a baseball-bat for an hour-or-so before their arms start trying to fall off).

Even if the enemy is so numerous that it’s “impossible to miss“ with a bow and arrow, don’t give a bow to someone who doesn’t know how to use one. They’re more likely to hurt themselves than the enemy.

[mavda]

When Wisdom sleeps

Ch.1 | Ch.2 |

Ch.3: The Festival

Colonel Auru Po'hra glanced at the document in front of him, nodded and signed it without a second thought. Link Arwyn, 18 years old, son of the late Colonel Arwyn and nephew of Captain Arwyn was a bright young soldier who had been climbing ranks like nothing. Most people were already taking notice of him and Major Auru Po'hra -who had the pleasure of having Link under his care- was beyond elated at his growth.

Po'hra raised his head, pushed the piece of paper towards Link and offered his quill. "Captain Arwyn," he greeted and Link saluted back.

"It is an honor, Colonel."

Not only was Link an extremely skilled individual, but he worked flawlessly with other people. His way with the sword and shield were unparalleled and Po'hra was sure not many knew that Link was also exceptional with every other type of weapon available.

"Guess you'll have to get promoted as soon as you can so people don't get you confused with your uncle, huh."

It was meant to be a joke, taking into account how young Link was and how unlikely it would be to receive another promotion so soon. But Link had looked at Auru with purpose and Auru's laugh died on his lips. He couldn't deny he rather liked people with goals. But even he wasn't expecting Link to say, "I would appreciate it if you were so kind as to direct to my company difficult missions."

Auru cocked and eyebrow, "You have yet to meet the rest of your new, company," Auru stressed. "Link, it's commendable to see you so eager to do good for the Kingdom, but there is a fine line between being eager and being reckless. You should keep that in mind."

"Sir."

Yet Link stood still and didn't leave the room, and Auru could feel a mix of annoyance and awe. "What good is gonna do you to have your company get injured?"

"I will do my best to prevent that from happening."

Auru looked to the side in displeasure and searched through his papers with irritation. "People more experienced than you have not been able to take on this one. Take into consideration that I am giving this one to you just because you asked and just because I know you, I still think you're being reckless and I am half wanting to see you lose because really," Auru frowned at him, "this attitude needs a little fixing."

Link remained stoic and only thanked Auru as he received his new instructions.

"Why do you want to garner so much attention anyway? You are already in the public eye, you're our youngest captain ever." Auru kept to himself all of the female attention Link had also gotten because of his looks. "I don't want you burning out because you somehow feel you need to climb ranks just because."

"I don't, sir. I just... I would like to do better for the Kingdom."

Auru rolled his eyes because he didn't buy it. Link was a great asset to his regiment and although Auru wouldn't bet his life on it, he was pretty sure Link only had the Kingdom's best interest in mind. "Fine, do what you want, just... don't die out there."

Link saluted and turned around. It had been a rumor at first, unbelievable and overexaggerated to most, how was one supposed to believe the people who came back from missions with Link telling that the man himself took care of the most ferocious beast, the most cunning of monsters all alone? Auru could only shake his head and snort in disbelief. But he was proven wrong, statement after statement, mission after mission, everyone said the same.

Link was unique. And although Auru couldn't understand what the boy was trying to do by putting himself out there, by gaining so much recognition but never using it, by shouldering so many things by himself, he could understand one thing. And that was that Link was good at what he did and that Auru was seeing the making of a legend.

Maybe Link had greater ambitions. Maybe his desperate need to find the Princess had been bound by greed -hard to believe, but possible- and seeing that that had ended in failure maybe he had decided to earn power in other ways. Link was not yet one of the most influential people in Hyrule, but boy, Auru could easily believe he would get there someday.

If Link really ended up at the top... Auru wouldn't mind. And Auru played with the quill in his hand as he pondered over that realization.

⁂

Link was neck deep in paperwork and while he signed papers he tried his best to wash away the nagging feeling in the back of his head that urged him to leave. It was already june and his work didn't seem to diminish. Which meant he was being sought after, which meant he was gaining recognition, which meant he had more power and a whole lot more responsibilities.

He was glad and annoyed and although he had checked time and time again with Ashei the answer was the same, "You are not free to go yet, sir." Both Ashei and Guile had been promoted by Link's request and although Link could have had asked for more people to work under him as lieutenants he had been hesitant to do so. He trusted his lieutenants completely and he didn't know whether such a bond could be formed with new people out of nowhere, he much rather have Ashei and Guile have close aides and even recommend people. This had put a heavy strain on his friends though, if Link's work had doubled then Ashei and Guile's had tripled. And although Link wanted nothing more than to leave and keep his promise with Zelda he didn't have it in him to leave his lieutenants -who had agreed with everything he had decided without a peep- and leave.  

That, and Link was determined to deal with the mission Auru had begrudginly shown him this year. He decided to stretch his legs and take a stroll through the training grounds, fighting always calmed him somehow and showing his face usually helped keep the morale in his now regiment. Link decided to go and oversee the training of the new soldiers and as soon as people noticed him they started poking the sides of the ones beside them. Link bowed his head as greeting and received salutes in response.

The training grounds bustled and the sound of wooden swords striking each other reverberated around Link. He searched around and walked towards the tallest readhead around. "Loran," he greeted.

Loran turned and gave a lazy greeting, "Sir." She was Guile's aide and although her attitude was lacking to many, Link found it incredibly entertaining. It was refreshing to see someone not care about anything, specially when people with high positions came in here to flaunt their power. "Need a sparring partner, sir?"

Link pondered for a second, and although he did want to stretch and fight a little he wasn't sure it was the best idea to do so now. "Maybe later."

Loran rolled her eyes, "You'll give the new ones a show and you'll help me get done with this day sooner. I am begging."

Link had to control his face so as to not smile, and then gave the slightest of nods, half wanting Loran to let it slide, but she was smirking the next second and walking to the ground while taking her coat off. She didn't say a word, but the people around her made space and someone brought her a wooden sword without her asking.

Link followed behind and although someone offered to take his coat away Link declined them as politely as possible. He could feel the blood rushing through and as soon as the sword was in his hand he spinned it a couple of times and caught a couple of newbies opening their mouths in surprise. Link smiled.

"Whenever you're ready!" Loran taunted. Link now couldn't help the snort that overcame him and he gave a step forward. And Loran walked towards him with stomps.

Loran's fighting style was aggressive and relied on her build. Taking into account that she was taller and bulkier than most people Link could understand why she had taken that approach. He parried  a couple of attacks and dodged the rest. He did this not only because confronting her head on was not a wise strategy but because this usually made Loran get angry pretty quickly and that meant she would start putting more strenght behind her attacks, making them heavier, tougher, and wider.

They moved around in a wide circle, making people retreat farther and farther away, and it looked like Loran was controlling the situation. Link crouched, jumped backwards and parried strikes that otherwise seemed to be sure hits. Loran took advantage of a wide dodge Link did and decided to twist her whole body to do a broad sweep. Link, instead of jumping backwards got closer to Loran and crouched under her sword and then stood to his full height, put strenght on his legs and hit her side with a diagonal swing with all the momentum of his body. Loran howled as she brought her hand to her ribs.

"Fuck that!"

Link laughed, "I've told you already that you can't just rely on your strenght."

Loran grumbled, "Oh, shut up."

The people around them started to buzz and a clear voice interrupted, "All right, all right, move, everyone, time to keep on training!" Guile's black head moved through the sea of people with little head bows and soft words, and walked towards Link and Loran with his hands on his hips. "I told you to train them, Loran!"

"I did," she growled, "but then sir boss here graced me with a fight, and I couldn't refuse."

Guile looked at Link with a face full of fake hurt, "Sir boss," he admonished. Link raised his hands in defeat and then Guile shook his head, "If you have free time you can help us oversee training, sir."

Link spinned his sword and hit his heels with it, "Count me in."

 "We can always spar again and use that as teaching material," Loran tried, but Guile gave her the stinky eye and she looked away immediately, "or not. Whatever."

⁂

At the end of August, by the time the new recruits were stationed on their own teams and things had started to calm down for Link's company, Shad entered into the office with a stack of papers related to Auru's mission.

Shad was a man who would rather have a fight with wits than with swords, soft-spoken but hardheaded, with gelled down brown hair but always with one strand resting on his forehead that Link always wondered how it got there, and circular glasses that he usually fixed when nervous, Ashei's right hand man and terribly uncomfortable with Loran. Shad bowed to Link and let his papers fall in Link's desk.

"We have everything ready to depart whenever you're ready, sir."

It had been a surprise for Link to see Ashei drag from the ranks this one man who seemed so opposite to her, but Shad had always been thankful to her and his work always excelled when it came to planning. Ashei had been giving him more and more work and Shad had taken the challenge head on.

"The scout team arrived, then?"

"Yes, sir, no casualties. There were two with slight injuries but they went directly to get them treated, as you instructed."

"Good. What do we know then?"

Shad hurried to find the paper he needed and then moved it towards Link as he started to share the scouts' information. They had discovered the hiding place of the monster, its usual routine and movements, and there were even some sketches done with charcoal. Link squinted his eyes at it. "Ah."

Shad stopped talking and waited for Link to talk, but he never did. "Sir?"

"Nothing, go on."

Shad continued but Link's attention was elsewhere. Captain Link was a strange man, he was unexpectedly young for a man with his experience and attitude, and Shad couldn't help but wonder whether the Goddesses had bestowed upon Link some kind of wisdom and strength they had denied the others. It was the only explanation he could come up with as to how Link seemed to know things that should be beyond his understanding and seemed to act in a way beyond his years. Shad finished his explanation but as he had come to expect, Link nodded and didn't ask questions, as if he had seen this situation before.

"Well, time for me to go then."

"It's... almost night, sir, wouldn't it be better to leave tomorrow?"

Link grabbed a satchel from under his desk and grabbed a cloak, "Nah, see ya. Tell Ashei I already left." Link squeezed Shad's shoulder as a goodbye and closed the door behind him.

When Shad walked back to his room Ashei ran up to him and knew before she could even ask that Link had left. "That man, can't believe he left already."

"Needed something from him, ma'am?"

"Nah, just wanted to let him know Guile and I had everything checked for him to leave."

Ashei sighed to the sky and Shad shifted in place, "Are you ever worried he won't make it?"

Link Arwyn had the bad habit of doing major missions alone or with as little people as possible. It had proven useful when he had been part of a team or when his subordinates could be counted with his fingers, but even after leading a hundred people, he kept at it. Ashei and Guile were used to it and mainly helped by keeping things in order when he left. Shad had seen Link overcome grueling tasks like nothing and although dirty and bloodied and tired, he always came back alive, but as he had started to take on more difficult missions he couldn't help but worry...

"Nah, he's good. He's a one man army, Shad, you don't have to worry. Let's go grab dinner, yeah?"

...but if Ashei, one of Link's closest aides trusted him this much, his worries were surely unfounded.

⁂

Whenever they sent a party to scout a monster Link always made sure that one person was good at drawing. Sometimes information was hard to come by and even with a few days of scouting there wasn't much to gather, but they could always see the monster and make a sketch. And with a sketch and only with that Link could know what they were facing. His memories were riddled with monsters and how to fight and defeat them, and although at first he had hated them because it sure wasn't fun to have so many nightmares back when he was a child, now it had become one of his biggest assets. Ashei and Guile had learned not to ask questions and by extension no one else had done so, Link was glad because he was sure trying to explain himself would only make him look more sketchy.

Link always asked for a full report and read them, but since a while ago he only scanned the documents because nothing had changed from his memories. And as with his enemies, the way to defeat them was also the same. Back when he had been younger and had travelled all around the Kingdom looking for Princess Zelda he had come across every little weapon or item he would ever need and he had made sure to write their locations down. He had though about taking them with him, but he had nowhere to hide them and he wasn't even sure he would need all of them, so whenever need arose he would go and fetch them, most of the time no one noticed and Link would put them back without trouble.

Link walked to the stables and glanced again at the sketch -the only paper he had taken with him- and grimaced. A black hand hovered over the ground without anything attached to it and Link could only remember the dark dripping caves that he had had to meander in order to find that monster. Bongo Bongo, they called him, and Link wasn't thrilled to fight him again. It was a monster with an invisible body that could only be seen with the Lens of Truth and Link had to control the shiver that ran down his spine. The monster's hands were detached from the main body and its weak point was its head... which was its neck, or what was left of it, it was a nightmarish monster somehow worse than the others that, as if that weren't enough, liked to hit the ground at a rythm that made it difficult to maintain one's balance.

   "Fun."

The Lens had been forgotten a long while ago and Link found it in a town four days away from Bongo Bongo. It rested in a chest in a hidden room in a run-down temple that was filled with spiderwebs and dust and everything that screamed abandoned. The Lens of Truth was intact and Link brought it to his eye. Nothing changed here and Link put it inside his satchel. He usually took his time when dealing with monsters alone, mainly because it was already suspicious for him to beat these monsters on his own and he didn't need the added notion that he was somehow unusually strong. Those rumors where already making their rounds but Link tried his hardest not to fuel them too much.

Bongo Bongo hid inside a cave at the end of a decently sized village. Link would rather keep his profile low but since this was a pretty notorious mission he went directly to the chief. Before leaving Link had told Guile to give a notice to Auru regarding Link's departure, but the chief's knowing look was enough for Link to know that Auru had given them information beforehand.

The chief was accomodating and told Link that anything he needed he would arrange. Bongo Bongo seemed to have affected the village hard enough for the chief and the people to look haggard. The chief explained the sudden deaths, disappareances and the fear that had installed itself in the people's hearts. And thinking about how Bongo Bongo looked like a nightmare Link only nodded in agreement.

Link usually took his time, as long as the monster could be kept under control and no one would come in harm's way. But since this case did not fall into that category Link just went straight to work. The cave was -just as he remembered- moist and wet and dark and cold and Link's senses screamed for him to leave. It wasn't only that the monster was gross and the place was uncomfortable that made this fight annoying, it was the fact that Link had to use the Lens of Truth to actually see what he was fighting before actually hitting. Link very much preferred monsters he could see, thank you very much.

The cave was filled with lesser monsters like babas, keese and bokoblins. As he walked through the dark cave he had to scan every little crevice and every little tight corner, babas hid in the most inconspicuous of places and only emerged from their holes when prey was right beside them, their gnarly teeth would try to grab whatever they could but thankfully Link had muscle memory down to a t and his sword found either the carnivorous plant's head or their stem rather quickly. Babas, although annoying, at least could be avoided if Link could pinpoint their location, they took root in place and couldn't move afterwards and although they would try their best to stretch themselves towards Link, he could just keep on with his business.

Keese, on the other hand, were small, flying creatures that resembled bats and who followed wherever one went. Unrelentless and loud, they would squeak till Link either lost them or struck them. They were as weak as a baba, but they usually moved in groups and Link could feel his patience waning every time he had to face them. Link didn't even waste arrows on them, he always had his slingshot with him and the keese would go down with a well-placed rock in their one, yellow, big and gross eye.

Darkness was annoying though, and Link had to let the keese get close enough to let his lantern's light wash over them before letting go of the rock. The odd bokoblin came at him, but they were loud, barely got to his hip, and weren't particularly smart so Link slayed them without much thought.

The more into the cave he ventured, the tougher his enemies got, bokoblins were now accompanied by lizalfos who would keep their distance and jump with their reptile legs away from harm whenever Link got too close. They would wear rudimentary shields and grab the bokoblin's weapons if Link disarmed them. They would quack at him and although it took longer, Link could either overpower or outsmart them, he usually went with the latter, making a feint and hitting at their unguarded side.

The fact that Link did not encounter any other type of monster was welcome, but knowing that he had Bongo Bongo at the end of the tunnel made him uncomfortable anyways. The water dripping all around him and the way his lantern played with the shadows gave him a sense of deja vú so strong he had to stop for a second and catch his breath. This had ocurred heavily in his younger years, memories and feelings so overwhelming he had at one point doubted his own sense of self.

He called it deja vú now, but they were memories, real memories he could conjure with crystal clear clarity if he tried hard enough. He didn't. He would remember, he would accept it, but he would not dwell more than necessary on them. He had doubted himself far beyond what he should have and now he feared what would happen if he remembered too much.

He was too mature and too smart and too brave and too nice and too much many things he didn't know if he would have been without these moments in his head. Link shook his head, calmed his breathing and kept on walking. What good would do him to overanalyze something he could do nothing about.

The shadows around him grew thicker and more menacing in a way that only he -with battle senses honed beyond normal- could sense and as soon as the ground beneath him started to rumble Link exhaled one short breath and brought the Lens of Truth to his eyes. Bongo Bongo's neck oozed a thick, yellow liquid and Link knew where to hit.

"Who knew I'd end up happy to see you, huh."

Bongo Bongo slapped the ground and Link crouched in an attempt to keep his balance, the ground shook and the walls grumbled and Link ran towards the monster.

⁂

Zelda had to stiffle a yawn as she walked back to her house. It was the middle of December and Mira was a bundle of excitement over the Summer Festival next village that was to come. Mira had been down about Link not making it in time for them to go to the Winter Festival, but her optimism about them going to this one was contagious and Zelda didn't have it in her to say otherwise.

Zelda believed in Link, but she also knew he was busy and probably had more than their promise to care about and although she wondered about what he was doing and where he was going and who he was hanging out with, it was too embarrasing to share and she barely talked about him to her dad or Mira. Hopefully she got to see him this year. It was pretty unlikely, taking into consideration they were already entering the latter half of December, but maybe he did care about their promise and maybe he would come. Maybe he would come right after new year's. In the end, Zelda had to come clean and accept that she just wanted to see him.

The implications of that she would rather not dwell on too much.

She stepped into the clearing to her house and immediately her eyes glued to the horse that was grazing around. "Epona." Her chest tightened and her legs rushed to her house and she felt excitement tingling all over her body.

The door opened with strength and both Ganondorf and Link turned around from the dinner table and looked at Zelda. Link's brows had gone up by the surprise but seeing Zelda made him smile and crinkle his eyes.

"Link!" Zelda wasn't sure what she wanted to do, she wasn't thinking much, to be honest. She just ran to him, and Link -almost by instinct- rose from his chair and caught her body. It took her half a second to realize how suspicious her actions must look so Zelda pushed her hands on his shoulders immediately after and tried her best to control her smile. "When did you get here?" She worried her voice was too high-pitched due to her excitement, and that maybe flinging herself towards Link wasn't the best course of action, but her father -thanks the Goddesses- promptly interrupted her line of thought.

"He got here like an hour ago, child, let him go and come give your father," Ganondorf stressed, "a hug, and with the same amount of excitement, you hear me?"

Zelda's laughed filled the room and Link made fists of his hands. Ganondorf was as smooth as ever, thank Hylia. Zelda clung to her father and Ganondorf crushed her body with love. "He's staying with us for a while, don't make me get jealous."

Zelda snickered back and soon turned her attention to Link again. And the three of them got up to date. Link had basically worked himself to the bone. Zelda looked worried at the amount of sleep he would get and the monsters he would fight, and Link did his best to downplay everything he talked about. Her father squeezed every detail out of Link and Zelda could only snicker at the seriousness on his face regarding Link's achievements. After a while, Link's face tightened, he didn't look tired, he looked even more focused, and Zelda knew that he was putting a front, so she pushed Link out of his chair and onto his bedroom to prepare himself and told her father he could keep on questioning Link the next day.

Ganondorf had laughed aloud and had shrugged his shoulders, and as soon as Zelda heard the bathroom door close, she turned to her father, "Dad," Ganondorf had hmmed as an answer and Zelda asked, "Is Link famous?"

Ganondorf's eyes shone and he sat straight, "Is he isn't famous yet just give him a couple of years."

And Zelda was kept awake that night imagining Link traversing the world and defeating monsters and helping people.

Her father always looked more relaxed whenever Link was with them. Zelda had wondered about this and had thought that maybe she had made it up. But third time's the charm and her father was now looking refreshed and calm and she loved seeing him like this. Her father talked in a hushed voice and served her eggs with bread, "Let's Link sleep till he wakes on his own, 'kay?"

Zelda nodded and sat at her chair. Maybe today Link could share more of his adventures with her, maybe Zelda could ask him more in depth questions about how he defeated the monsters, rather than his father's fixation with how Link was being promoted. Maybe she could share with Link the new books she had been reading, maybe tell him about the time Mira had almost started a fire in the village. Zelda washed her plate and grabbed a book to read on the carpet. Maybe Zelda would ask Link what he wanted to do, he worked so hard, she wouldn't mind doing whatever he wanted and let him unwind. Maybe he just wanted to rest. The could take a nap out in the garden, they would have to take cover since the sun shone brightly, maybe they could do a picnic of some sort.

The bedroom door opened and Zelda turned her head to see a disheveled Link coming out. His smile was lazy and he bowed his head at her, and her book was left on the floor as she started following him again. Her father served Link breakfast and sat on the couch. And Zelda couldn't help but feel gratitude towards Link and his presence. She had wondered whether to bring up the issue regarding the festival, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt it didn't really matter to her. If her father was happy, if Link was happy, who cared if Link forgot.

"It's good I made it in time for this festival, huh."

Ganondorf slapped his thigh, "Right! You had talked about it!"

Zelda kept quiet but looked at them in turns. Link frowned, "You remember that promise I made you, right?"

Zelda had to control her feelings and she nodded, "Yes! I remember."

"Is Mira going too?"

"Yes."

"Excited?"

Link chowed on his food and looked at her with a familiarity that made Zelda smile. Her father looked at her with glee and Zelda knew he had kept quiet out of consideration and not because he had ever forgotten, and Zelda nodded and started talking about Mira's plan regarding the festival. Mira and her family had been going to both the Winter and Summer festival for a while now, and Mira at this point was only eager to go because it would be Zelda's first time. Mira had not only made a schedule for their activities but she was also doing her best to persuade Zelda to match their clothings.

Link's eyes brightened and he was so happy he had thought of buying gifts to them. After finishing breakfast he went to his room and brought a couple of parcels to Zelda, she opened them and as Link told her that one of her dresses matched with Mira's, Zelda squealed and started laughing uncontrollably. Ganondorf towered over Link and stretched his hand with a sugestive look. Link scoffed and went back to his room to bring Ganondorf's presents.

Zelda pressed her fingers against the hard covers of books Link had brought her, she eyed her dresses and her father's crinkled eyes as he shook a vial in front of him. Link crossed his arms over his chest and scrunched his face trying to remember something regarding the vial her father had asked.

"When's your birthday, Link?"

Link looked at her and squinted his eyes. "You don't have to give me anything."

Zelda's eyes remained unmoving and when Link glanced back at Ganondorf for help, Ganondorf could only shrug his shoulders. "December 3rd," Link relented, "but, really, you don't have to get me anything."

Link could sense immediately Zelda's burden as she realized his birthday had been only a couple of weeks back. "Did you celebrate?"

Link grimaced as he tried to remember, "Loran did get me a cake, and they did sing me a happy birthday, but we went straight back to work after."

Zelda's face was somber and Link hurried to add, "I had a great time, though."

Zelda gave another look to the gifts that surrounded her and looked back at him, "Thank you for the gifts."

"You're welcome."

⁂

It had taken them a couple of days to get everything they needed in order for Link's belated birthday party, but Mira's unmmeasurable love for Link made her use every favor she had garnered over the last few months and she had not only covered every ingredient Zelda had asked for, but she had also secured a couple of small fireworks she was sure at least uncle Gan would appreciate. Lloyd had joined on the plan the moment Zelda had asked but he had kept a serious face whenever possible. Mira teased him that the easiest way to get along better with Zelda was for him to get chummy with Link but Lloyd had blinked at her as slowly as possible and Mira had laughed out loud before leaving.

Although Zelda had tried very hard to remain unconspicuous, Link had realized soon after that she was preparing some sort of party for him. Ganondorf had sworn secrecy, but he also sucked at it. It had fallen on Link's shoulders to make as if he didn't realize what was happening in that house. Ganondorf would ask Link to help him with a bunch of uneventful activities and Zelda would practice in the kitchen to make a cake.

As much as the reason for their escapades was built in letting Zelda alone, it had proven really useful for Link and Ganondorf to catch up on anything that they would rather hide from Zelda's ears.

It mainly entailed Link's work in the Castle and any and all information regarding the Kingdom. Zelda's survival was still a mistery and the princess' existence was still a faded memory. Link's name was doing its rounds across the Kingdom and as soon as he went back he was to make a trip to Death Mountain and help the Gorons with a nasty pest of lizalfos. Link talked about his fights and adventures and Ganondorf's attitude was enough for Link to realize that his friend was envious of him. Well, freedom was something one took for granted.

In one of their outings, out of nowhere, as they were foraging for mushrooms, Ganondorf talked as if talking about today's dinner, with the nonchalance of certainty. "I started having the dreams."

And Link's hairs stood on end, his breathing quickened and he was sure his face looked horrified, "Are you-?"

"Fine, yes. For now. For a while, I guess. I've had dreams that are memories, bad dreams, but when I wake up, I know they're dreams. No fuzzyness, no confusion, no anger, I just wake with a start and remember my daughter and get on with my day."

"How many?"

"A few. More than 3, less than 10? Maybe. I'm sure I've forgotten some, it's like as if when I wake I know I dreamt about them but can't remember any details at all."

For a while they remained silent and Link concentrated on counting the mushrooms he picked up. "It's different." Different than last time, different than most times.

"Yup."

There wasn't much else to say. Both remembered lives in which Ganondorf lost himself in these memories, grieved with his memories as if they had happened yesterday, howled in pain and anger and lashed out at anything that had ever wronged him. Sometimes it was very easy for him to fall back and let his anger take control, sometimes he just gave in with the slightest of pushes, seldom he tried to fight it, and although his fight would make a difference, before long, by divine providence, he would lose his sense of self. Whatever made him, him, whatever separated him from the beast that resided inside him dissappeared and in turn chaos would take over. And Link and Zelda would try to take it down.

"I would like to think that this, somehow, means whatever pushes me to seek destruction is weakening. That I, somehow, have won this battle over my mind, but," how is one supposed to believe that a mere mortal can win over providence? How is one supposed to believe than somehow, this one time, one was free to do what one wanted? How is one supposed to believe..., "I just don't think it's gonna happen."

"How long do you think-?"

Before leaving the forest, at the edge of the clearing, Ganondorf turned. His dark skin glowed against the sun, his red hair billowed behind his back and Link had to blink and remember that this was a time different than many others. No swords involved, no broken bones and bloodied skin and stinging wounds. A father.

A father... a father that had somehow killed the King and Queen of the Kingdom and had kidnapped and hidden the princess and heir to the throne, a man that had thrown into chaos a Kingdom and-

"Dad!"

Both Link and Ganondorf startled and Link recognized the disdain and the loathing in Ganondorf's eyes, and he knew his face must have reflected the same type of feelings towards Ganondorf, because what Link saw next was pain.

"I think," Ganondorf whispered, "the clock has started to tick."

Zelda trotted towards them and both Ganondorf and Link shook their feelings away immediately, buried them with the certainty of knowing they both had inflicted pain to the other in almost equal amounts, with the knowledge that this time they were not enemies, with the hope that they could spare Zelda of this.

"Are you done with the mushrooms?"

Ganondorf raised his basket, "We sure are!" he then turned to Link, "Come on, let's go back."

They didn't talk about that episode after reaching the house. And although in the following days they talked about Ganondorf's situation, they didn't touch upon that split second in time when they saw each other as enemies. They were ashamed of it, scared of it, they feared thinking about it, talking about it would give it power. Link also understood that such feelings were unfounded, as time and time again they had been reminded that whatever happened with them and their memories was mostly out of their control. He would like to be able to talk to the Goddesses and ask some questions, gather some truths. But he also knew no words would be able to leave his mouth if given the chance.

"Link?" Zelda looked at him and Link realized she had been calling for him for a while. He immediately straightened and focused on her. "Yeah?"

"Dad is calling for you."

Link left the book he had been looking at on the shelves near the chimney and went on another scavenging hunt with Ganondorf, who was waiting for him fishing rod in hand. "Thought we could spice things up with this."

Link frowned, "Were did you get one?"

"Bought it with your money, buddy, I'm still not good at it though. Thought now was a good time to get some classes from a pro."

Link hadn't had the time to indulge in many of his hobbies. And with an expertise he never learned in this lifetime, he took the rod and could feel his hands itching to move. It was unsettling whenever something he never had tried had such a response from him. He didn't ponder on it too much.

If he had been alone, Link was sure he would have had at least some trouble realizing Mira's and Lloyd's arrival. But he was with Ganondorf, and the man stiffened whenever a new presence arrived at the clearing. Ganondorf's body was taut and although Link acted as if nothing had happened and kept on explaining to Ganondorf how to use the fishing rod and where to put one's hands, the obvious troubled attitude Ganondorf was giving made Link silent.

"Will you be okay?"

Ganondorf blinked and pressed his hand to his face, "Yeah, don't mind me, it's just... It puts me on edge and then I remember why it puts me on edge and I just spiral into shit I don't want to remember."

"Zelda will be happy with your presence, you don't need to force yourself to like... mingle."

"'Kay."

"I would think it a victory if you just stood brooding from afar and let them have their party."

"Your party," Ganondorf corrected.

"I mean, yeah, mine."

"I can't help but wonder if she could be better, happier, somewhere else... with someone else."

Link patted Ganondorf to let him know he was ready to throw the fishing line and the bigger man moved his arms with mechanical movements. The bait fell sad a few meters away from them but Link congratulated Ganondorf anyways, giving him advice in between.

"Don't you think about it?" Ganondorf pressed.

And Link had to breath in deep, "Of course I do, but nothing I can say will make you feel better."

"I actually want to feel bad, so give it."

"Listen, we are about to celebrate my birthday, Zelda is doing this to make us happy," Ganondorf opened his mouth to stress that the party was for Link, but Link raised his hand and gave him a look, "yes, even you, you dumbass. You are her father, stop acting like you're some kind of monster," Link had to power through that word, "let's just have a good time, all right?"

"I love her, I really do, which is why the more time passes the more I realize what I took from her."

"Stop it."

"Sometimes I lay awake at night hoping I had just left her there, or to have been struck before entering that damned room-"

"Ganondorf."

"- other times I just wish you had found me sooner, without memories, a clean death and a hero going back to the Castle with the Princess in tow."

Link grabbed Ganondorf's arm and turned him to face him, "Listen. Grieve, repent, feel bad, I will listen and shut up, but now, please, let's fake it. I need you to fake it today, please."

Ganondorf blinked hard, realized where they were, "You've always been better at this."

"Ganondorf..."

"No, you're right. Thanks."

Both men turned as Zelda came walking towards them. Link sucked in a breath, but Ganondorf patted him in the back as he walked before him, "I got this."

Link's birthday party went without a hitch. Zelda made a cake everyone loved, Mira filled the air with laughter and Lloyd was a silent presence that remained polite. Ganondorf stood a little away, kept to himself, but nodded to Zelda whenever she looked at him and congratulated her on a job well done. Link received a paperweight made of wood with the form of a horse's head. Zelda looked nervous and Mira looked anxious, and Link said, from the bottom of his heart, "Thank you."

As everyone left and Ganondorf retired mumbling under his breath about being tired because of having Hylian interaction, Zelda looked at Link and clasped her hands together, "Did you have fun?"

Link gave her the sweetest smile, "Yes. I appreciate the effort you guys made for me, thank you."

Zelda felt her anxiousness fading and filled with the day's exhilaration she blurted, "I'll learn how to bake better cakes, bigger cakes."

Link chuckled and cocked his head, "You really don't have to."

And Zelda had to gulp down her nervousness, "I want to, I will. I'll celebrate your next birthday, too."

And Link couldn't help but remember Ganondorf's words and how their decisions had taken away from this girl. They could feel bad all they wanted but if she remained this full of life, full of love, who cared about them? If Link could protect her innocence for as long as he could, if celebrating a birthday made her this happy. "I'll be looking forward to it, then."

⁂    

The Summer Festival was celebrated in between the last 3 days of the year and the first 3 after new year. It wasn't unusual for people to spend all those days at the Festival, but most people gathered just before new year and the days after.

"By then it sucks, because there are too many people," Mira complained. And as Zelda had no way of knowing whether it was true or not she just nodded along.

Mira's family usually went together and celebrated the whole stretch, "but then we go around the village, not at the heart of the festival," she then pointed to the crude map she had drawn before, "there is a forest here that has a beautiful lake, and then there's a huge cliff over here," she moved her finger around, "over here there's a ginourmous botanical garden -you'll love it-, over here there's a river and here," Mira stopped and added suspense, "the biggest library you have ever seen!"

Zelda's eyes opened like saucers and both girls looked at Link, who was unsure of what to do and looked surprised for a moment before nodding along and furrowed his eyebrows to appear certain, "I bet," he added.

Mira nodded, happy with his interjection and then proceeded to repeat the tour she wanted Zelda to make. Zelda's excitement was palpable, and Link and Ganondorf did their best to keep it that way. Mira's family was taking Zelda along to this year's Festival and Pattrick had already come to talk with Ganondorf regarding their plans as to where they were staying, how many days they were going and what was the overall schedule for their trip.

Ganondorf had looked forlorn at one point in time and Link had elbowed him immediately. "It's just a week." But Link somehow understood that Ganondorf was worrying about other things, so aside from preventing Ganondorf from showing obvious signs of sadness he left him alone.

The day Zelda was to leave, she hugged her father hard and told him she would bring him a souvenir. Ganondorf had snorted and replied that the best gift she could give him was to come back happy and unharmed. Link took Epona with them and left Zelda in Mira's house, the family was busy moving their bags from their house to their horses and Link took advantage of this and slipped a bag full of rupees to Zelda.

Zelda took notice immediately of Link and squinted her eyes at him, "Dad already gave me money."

Link gave her an innocent smile and ruffled her hair, "Have fun, all right?"

Mira called Zelda over and Zelda breathed out a shaky breath, "Just... take care of dad."

"Count on it."

Zelda stared back at Link and pursed her lips. Link bent his knees slightly to get to her level and patted her arm, "Don't worry about anything but having fun out there, all right? I'll take care of everything over here."

As the horses left and Link waved his hand goodbye, he noticed Zelda turned back several times before getting lost in the distance.

⁂

Zelda wasn't used to people. And the amount of people she saw now was enough to make her dizzy.

"This isn't even much!" Mira laughed, and Zelda couldn't fathom more people around her. Although Zelda had promised herself that she would have fun and she would not think too much about her father or Link, this new environment, this amount of people, this amount of buzz made her miss her house immediately.

Mira took Zelda's hand and gave a squeeze, "Don't worry, I'll be right next to you." Zelda squeezed back and tried to enjoy being surrounded by so much movement. Uncle Pattrick and Aunt Lenora were talking with the innkeeper, trying to find their reservations and Mira had taken Zelda out to the street to let her see what was going on outside. "If it ever becomes too much we can always come back to the inn," she shared, "if you don't enjoy the festival we can always go to the library," she then remembered she didn't like reading very much, "or the garden!"

Zelda laughed at Mira's attempt at making her feel at ease and that was enough to make her feel more comfortable with her surroundings. Mira's hand didn't let go of her and Zelda remembered that she should also try to enjoy herself for her friend's sake.

After leaving their bags in their rooms and leaving the horses to the innkeeper, they walked to the village's square and had a look at this year's stalls. Mira, Uncle Pattrick and Aunt Lenora talked about which stalls they remembered, which had changed and which they would rather not visit again, Mira pointed towards a vending stall and wrinkled her nose, "Daddy ate there once and it was not pretty, I tell ya." Zelda lost herself in between the talk Mira had with her parents, the people coming and going all around her, the colours and the singing and dancing and the sellers shouting and the children shrieking and-

Mira squeezed her hand and when Zelda looked at her, Mira pointed up towards the sky, "Look! Isnt' it pretty!?"

Zelda raised her face and looked at a wooden statue of the three Goddesses gracefully posing to hold a golden Triforce. The statue was big and looked intrincate and hard to carve, the Goddesses wore satin looking clothes that billowed behind them and the Triforce -although obviously painted- somehow gave off an awe-inspiring feeling.

"Some people say it's the real Triforce," Mira shared and both giggled because it was obviously made of wood. "At night it's even more beautiful, just you wait."

Their walk back was even more packed and Zelda could still not believe more people were to come. After eating dinner at the inn Zelda though they would go to sleep, but Mira talked something with her mother and after receiving a nod she hastily took Zelda and walked outside. "Let's go explore."

Zelda frowned but ended up walking right behind Mira. They circled the inn and then circled the roads near the inn, although they were some ways away from the square the number of sellers was still quite large and Zelda couldn't help but buy some of the sweets they were offering. At some point Mira grabbed Zelda's arm and pointed to a group of children playing on the road, it was enough for Mira to look at Zelda to know what she wanted. Although nervous, although anxious, although restless, Zelda couldn't deny she felt excited, so she nodded back.

Mira did most of the talking. And they were accepted immediately into the group, as most of the children were also from neighboring villages and were eager to make more friends. As they presented themselves to the group, one kid opened his eyes like saucers when Zelda told them her name. The child stepped forwards, did an exaggerated motion with his hand and then bowed deeply.

"Princess!" he exclaimed, and there was a second of silence before a couple of other kids did the same, one girl giggled as she curtsied and Mira had to stiffle the laugh that overcame her.

Everyone else followed suit and after a while, Zelda joined in too. She remembered, Zelda was also the name of the lost princess of the Kingdom.

That was funny.

[blasphemings]

es·cha·ton

/ˈeskəˌtän/ noun

the final event in the divine plan; the end of the world.

(7.1k words, chapter 1 of kny [demon slayer] au. can read on ao3 if you want)

-

Losing is a release.

The process of losing was ugly. Such a long way down, all those moments when he could still see the exit strategy but couldn’t quite grasp it, when the possibility of victory existed but slipped farther and farther away with each missed step, each hit taken. But there was something nice about having the decision made for him, after struggling for so long.

It’s over.

Kakyoin glanced at one of his discarded arms, lying in the bloodstained dirt roughly five feet to his left. Had this been the beginning of the fight he would have already regenerated it. Too exhausted now to even twitch the fingers, let alone reattach it, let alone regrow it.

It had been a good fight, though. Good way to go out, if he had to go out. Satisfying felt like too shallow a word.

The slayer stared down at him with an odd expression. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the blood off his face yet.

The slayer—what was his name again? He couldn’t remember—could be a concussion among the injuries he hadn’t bothered to mentally sort through. Kakyoin didn’t plan on repairing any of them, regardless. What was the point? He had already— Thunk.

—lost.

“You…”

He blinked up at the retreating back, then sideways at the sword buried in the dirt barely an inch away from his skull. Burning air sizzled around the white blade and he twitched away from it, realizing with some exasperation that he been given yet another unwelcome opportunity to survive.

“You missed?”

Impossible. The guy’s aim had been perfect even after it was clear he was feeling the effects of blood loss. He had barely even flinched when Kakyoin wrenched his shoulder out of the socket, just grimaced and tossed his sword to the other hand before carving off a large chunk of Kakyoin’s face without missing a beat.

Regrowing his face was annoying. And it hurt in a dazzling way. He often wished he could choose which parts of him came back, thinking that his life would be a lot easier if he could politely refuse to regenerate his nerve endings.

Ultimately, he was a static target. No way the slayer would just miss.

“Hey,” Kakyoin said sharply. “Hey, wait—”

The slayer dropped heavily to sit against one of the trees the two of them had uprooted, calmly tying a ripped piece of fabric around his forearm to stop the bite wounds from bleeding further. He was remarkably pale, but his hands were steady.

“You just—that’s it?” Kakyoin struggled to sit up with only one arm to lean on. “Are you serious?”

No response. He looked bored, which only made Kakyoin angrier.

“What, am I not good enough to—you too good to finish what you start? Is that it?”

He didn’t remember busting the guy’s eardrums. Maybe the slayer’s own concussion was worse than it had seemed. This was the demon hunter Muzan was so worried about?

This jackass?

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Kakyoin’s arm struck his injured shoulder with a wet thud and the slayer winced. He hadn’t bothered to dodge. He wrinkled his nose, nudging it away with one foot.

“Don’t you need this thing, anyway?”

He glanced at his sword, still embedded in the ground. Kakyoin had grasped the handle, ignoring the way it burned his remaining palm as he attempted to drag himself to his feet. A stubborn refusal to acknowledge that his shattered legs weren’t about to hold his weight anytime soon.

“I mean, if you want to kill yourself with it,” the slayer said slowly. “I’m not gonna stop you or anything.”

“But you won’t do it yourself.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Kakyoin laughed, a rasp that alerted him to vocal cords that must have been crushed at some point during the fight. He barely even remembered it happening. “You don’t feel like it.”

“Nah.”

The slayer watched Kakyoin struggle for a moment before giving up and collapsing back onto the ground in a heap. He poked at his dislocated shoulder with disinterest, a half-clenched fist the only evidence that he was in any pain at all, before using his free hand to yank with enough force to pop it back into place with an echoing crack. He closed his eyes briefly, keeping his breathing steady.

“What the hell kind of demon hunter are you, anyway?” Kakyoin mumbled, stretching his legs out as the exposed muscle slowly began to knit back together. “I mean, the slaying part is in the title, right?”

The slayer shrugged and gingerly picked up the arm that still lay at his side, looking curiously at the sharp nails and long-fingered hand that had somehow remained mostly intact. “You threw your arm at me.”

“Flattered that you noticed.”

Kakyoin flinched when it landed in his lap. He stared up at the slayer incredulously.

“It’s easier to…reattach them, right?” The slayer looked over at him as though he had noticed him for the first time. “Easier than regrowing the whole thing, anyway.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“You can throw it at me again if you don’t want it.”

They watched Kakyoin’s arm reattach to the what remained of his shoulder, the bone clicking back into place with a sickening crunch. The slayer stared at the swaying veins and visible muscle, looking vaguely nauseous, which struck Kakyoin as a bit ironic, considering he had been the one to rip it off in the first place.

Emphasis on the rip. He hadn’t had his sword in hand, at the time. He had improvised.

“It is easier,” Kakyoin said grudgingly. He kicked the white sword back towards the slayer as he opened and closed his fist experimentally, not so much to thank him as to get the heat coming off the thing farther away.

“What’s your name?”

“I—me?”

“There someone else here?”

He shook his head, bemused. “I’m Noriaki,” he said. “Noriaki Kakyoin.”

“Kakyoin,” the slayer repeated.

“And you?”

He chuckled, wiping the blood from his face. It was nothing, Kakyoin thought, compared to the scream-like laughter he remembered coming from all sides during the attack, as though the bloody mist the slayer left behind was mocking him. This sound was dull, lifeless where the other had been frenzied. Euphoric, even.

“Shouldn’t you know?” He looked at Kakyoin evenly.

“Should I?”

“I mean, you came to kill me.”

“Oh.” Kakyoin blinked. “I guess.”

“I really did crush your skull, huh?”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll return the favor.”

The slayer laughed his dead laugh again. “I’m Jotaro. Kujo.”

“Right.” I was supposed to rip your head off.

Jotaro rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. Kakyoin watched him limp a few steps, testing the waters, and marveled at just how reckless he had been, for a creature that actually had to sustain mortal injuries rather than play with them. He remembered the various bones he had felt crunching under his hands and feet. Couldn’t be comfortable, he thought.

“Hey, wait,” he called. “You’re just…?”

“Don’t have anything else to do with you,” Jotaro said. “Have other things to do.”

“You’re just going to leave me here.”

“Well, yeah.” He glanced up at the sky, the morning star just barely coming into view on the horizon. “Probably gonna want to get your legs back in time to get into the shade, though.”

“You realize I’m just going to come after you again, right?”

Jotaro turned, meeting Kakyoin’s eyes over his shoulder for the first time since the fight, and he smiled in a way that wasn’t quite as desperate as before, not quite as beautiful and blood-soaked, but still vicious, still hungry.

“Then we get to fight again,” he said.

-

No matter how many times Jotaro had come out of a scrape with a demon wishing he could heal his own wounds the way they did, he had never felt jealous like this before.

Early morning light filtered through the trees left crosshatched shadows on the dirt as he tried his best to pick his way over the roots without stumbling. He felt more exhausted than injured, though the searing pain in his shoulder and knee every time he took a bad step served as a reminder that he couldn’t exactly write off the latter just yet.

He squinted at the sunlight, wondering if that odd demon had been able to repair his legs in time to get to the shade and save himself. Kakyoin. That was his name. Very off to be wondering whether a demon had survived the morning rather than being what ensured that they didn’t.

Jotaro had fought more demons than he could keep track of but he had never seen one use their regenerative abilities the way Kakyoin had, relying on them rather than falling back on them. Not even bothering to dodge much of anything unless the swing would have come for his head, and that made Jotaro all the more frustrated by his own inability to fight with such abandon. Forced to be careful by the annoying fragility of the human body. He didn’t have the luxury of not needing to worry about having his arms cut off.

But Kakyoin hadn’t cared. It must have hurt, of course it must have hurt, but he had baited Jotaro that way, left his arm or leg open and banked on the way Jotaro’s momentum slowed when he cut into it. He had used Jotaro’s expectation that Kakyoin would have some degree of self-preservation against him.

It left them staring at one another for the space of a heartbeat, Jotaro’s shoulder hanging all wrong from the socket, Kakyoin’s arm a bloody stump with new muscles just barely beginning weave together at the base. He had felt like laughing as he tossed his sword to his remaining good arm, the violent lightness in his chest reaching a fever pitch. For a single, crazed moment Jotaro really thought he might thank that demon.

He had carved off a piece of Kakyoin’s face instead.

A horrible gargling sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He had leaned back, expecting some sort of explosive counterattack, maybe a sign of actual damage having been done, or at least a sign that Kakyoin was finally reacting to it.

It wasn’t until his throat began to knit back together a few seconds later that the sound grew clearer, and he realized Kakyoin was laughing. His eyes above the ruined lower half of his face registered no pain, only delight and surprise.

A moment of mutual recognition. After that it had really been fun.

Jotaro glanced over his shoulder, scanning the path behind him. It appeared vacant, the cascade of snapping twigs he had imagined hearing likely the consequence of some animal that had already moved on. Besides, it was silly to think that Kakyoin would have found some way to pursue him in the daylight, even if he had managed to regenerate that quickly.

Was it fear? Was it wishful thinking? Was it both?

He would have to stay away from home for a while once he was feeling better. It seemed inevitable that Kakyoin would track him down again. Couldn’t have that thing anywhere near his mom.

The house now coming into view beyond the trees always made him think of a patchwork quilt, the way the light and dark wood making up the walls wove together from a distance. Jotaro had found it necessary to repair some of the damages with wood that didn’t quite match the original siding, making the newer modifications stand out more than he would have liked. Less so because he was worried about how things looked, more because the constant reminders of what that had caused that damage did nothing to inspire feelings of safety.

Not that he could have forgotten about that even had he felt inclined to do so. Not when it was there for him to see every time he looked at his mother’s face.

As he limped towards the house, an all too familiar figure opened the door, pen in hand.

“Jotaro?”

Jotaro nodded and yawned. “You gonna let me in?”

Avdol squinted at him, placing a hand on his elbow to steady him as Jotaro dragged himself through the doorway. Jotaro pulled away gently, shaking his head.

“That’s blood,” Avdol said conversationally, wiping his hand discreetly on his robe.

“Yeah.”

“Is it yours?”

“Not all of it.”

He sighed and put down his pen. “Are you hurt?”

Jotaro grunted.

“Jotaro.”

“My shoulder’s fucked up,” he said, leaning carefully against the wall. “Didn’t lose that much blood.”

Avdol nodded, his eyes on the bloody bite marks on Jotaro’s forearm. “Demon?”

“‘Course.”

“And?”

Jotaro looked across at what appeared to be a pile of blankets. “How’s she doing?”

Holly made a faint sound as though she had heard him, and both Jotaro and Avdol held their breath for a beat before she sighed and rolled over, still asleep.

“She’s…all right.”

“She asleep this whole time?”

“Well, yes.” Avdol looked at him sideways. “This is hardly outside the norm for her.”

“Yeah,” Jotaro said. “Thanks for looking after her.”

“Of course.”

Mohammed Avdol still held himself like a hashira, and sometimes Jotaro forgot he wasn’t actually in the presence of the acting flame pillar in an official sense. He advised his successor frequently enough that it often seemed Avdol might as well still hold the title himself, though the slayer who had taken his place was certainly formidable enough on her own. At sixteen, Anne was younger than Jotaro and still had risen in the ranks at remarkable speed, much to the dismay of her mentor, who would have preferred that she stay in a safer, lower-ranked position; without question he wouldn’t have relinquished his title to her if Holly hadn’t been attacked. Holly needed Jotaro’s help, Jotaro needed Avdol’s help, and Anne was ready to take on hashira duties, whether Avdol liked it or not. None of them were able to deny that Anne’s mastery of the breath of flame was in a category all its own.

Naturally that had always been the problem for Avdol: he was an incredible teacher, and his students always found success. The danger was in the nature of that success, as the more power demon hunters had, the more deadly the demons they found themselves coming up against. Higher ranks meant more dangerous missions, and more dangerous missions meant higher mortality rates. Anne was his first student to survive for longer than two years after joining the corps.

Jotaro didn’t count, he said, as he was never meant to join in the first place. Jotaro had simply been a young family friend who he gave basic breath training to as a courtesy to better help him defend himself and his mother; his partner, Jean-Pierre, had been happy to teach the young man the basics of swordsmanship. Avdol had made a point of discouraging Jotaro from attempting the final selection, and Jotaro, for his part, had never felt inclined.

When he had gone after that demon a year ago he hadn’t been thinking about what part of the forest he was in, or which night it was. He had only been thinking about the screams he was drawing nearer towards, how those voices sounded even younger than he was, how he had clearly already been too late for some of them.

Jotaro hadn’t known he was entering the grounds of the final selection examination until they were found at daybreak, the morphed demon crumbling into dust before his eyes. The other surviving candidates huddled behind him, a sixteen-year-old boy brandishing a sword nearly as big as he was, and he had been asked any number of times are you all right, are you okay, but even then he was already all too accustomed to being covered in blood that was not his own.

He wouldn’t have stayed with the corps at all if it hadn’t been for his mother, but he soon found he needed answers that only following the missions on which he was sent would yield. The bank of knowledge the hunters possessed was Jotaro’s fastest way to finding what he needed to do to help her, and even Avdol had eventually understood why he chose to remain.

“Jotaro—?”

Avdol turned to see him curled up against the wall nearest to his mother. His eyes were closed and his face uncharacteristically peaceful; Jotaro was asleep.

He shook his head, thinking of the bloodstains the boy was likely to leave on the wood, the questions he still had about what had happened. Avdol couldn’t remember the last time Jotaro had come home looking this beat up. Technically he hadn’t actually responded when asked about it. It struck Avdol that he wasn’t actually sure whether or not Jotaro had defeated whatever it was that had attacked him.

Well, of course he had. It was Jotaro. He would have ripped the thing to pieces.

Avdol tossed a blanket over him and turned away. The kid had clearly had a rough night. He would get his answers later.

-

Jotaro woke to Avdol standing in the doorway, framed by a wash of moonlight. He shook his head to clear it. He had dreamed of drowning again, and he couldn’t tell whether the long-fingered hand that had appeared above the waves was there to pull him out or hold him under.

“‘S everything okay?”.

Avdol raised a hand to silence him. “There’s something outside,” he murmured.

He glanced down at his sleeping mother. “Polnareff back?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

Jotaro was on his feet quickly enough to make his bruised head spin, feeling the prospect of danger like an electric shock from the soles of his feet to the base of his skull. Not here. Not again. Not yet.

“Jotaro,” Avdol said sharply. “Jotaro, I know what you—but you should stay inside with Holly this time. You’re still injured.”

“Screw being injured,” Jotaro mumbled. “Screw it. Stay here with my mom, okay?”

Avdol would have disagreed further had Jotaro not slammed the door in his face. He meant well, but most of their arguments ended with that anyway. Jotaro figured it was best to cut straight to the chase at a time like this. No malice, just resignation.

He pulled his breathing under control as he looked out at the approaching figures and wondered if Kakyoin had already come back for him. He had imagined he would have one night to collect himself, at least.

When he squinted to see them more clearly, neither gait or silhouette matched what he remembered. One was too stocky, the other far too tall, movements too jerky. More like a marionette than a puppet master. They didn’t look particularly special, Jotaro thought. Maybe it really was just a run of the mill demon attack with spectacularly abysmal timing.

Really shitty luck, though. He adjusted his grip on his sword, annoyed to find that his shoulder still rebelled against any attempt to tighten it. Jotaro’s end of this fight would be defined by breath tactics or it would be over very, very quickly.

Star breathing.

Both demons shied away from him, into the shadows. Clearly these two had encountered breath users before, at least well enough to know the tells, enough to know when to hide. He tried not to think about what that meant about their track record when it came to slayers. Generally speaking, there was only one set of survivors.

Generally. Not always.

Go ahead and run, he thought. Maybe that way things will get interesting.

The second form was made for that sort of thing. Not outstanding in terms of damage potential, but it did wonders when he needed to light up the place.

Second form: starlight.

The nice thing about having control over a form that, to his knowledge, had never existed prior to his having called on it, was the shock value. It was almost guaranteed that his opponents had never encountered the technique before. Jotaro wasn’t something demons survived long enough to become familiar with.

As he brought his sword down and the light tore free, the familiar fear on the suddenly illuminated faces of the demons was almost enough to make him smile.

His counterfeit starlight was no sunlight, and it would never be enough to crumble them, but it burned all the same.

The branching light splintered towards two separate points like a tracking bomb, detonating on impact in quick succession. Jotaro whirled on the second, far closer to the now open door than he had expected.

His breath caught. “Avdol—!”

“I can handle it,” Avdol growled, fire already flickering at his fingertips. “Focus!”

Jotaro’s head swam from the form execution, and he sucked in a long, irritated breath. Wouldn’t get anywhere like that. Had to finish it fast or he wouldn’t be finishing it at all. He wasn’t going to last.

The demon looked more and more like a mantis as Jotaro approached with his light, hands clasped together as though it were praying. Thorny growths protruded from its shoulders and forearms, arms and legs too long for its body, as though someone had taken hold of the hands and feet and pulled them out like putty.

Ugly bastard.

He leveled his sword. “This can be easy for me or it can be shitty for you,” he said quietly. “Your call.”

The demon blinked at him with three sets of crimson eyes and hissed by way of an answer, still backing away as the burns from his starlight healed over.

“Great,” Jotaro mumbled. “Outstanding.”

It just kept backing up. Would it run away? Leave its friend behind for Avdol to roast?

He shook his head. Demons didn’t have friends. Jotaro, on the other hand, very much did have a concussion. Besides, that thing wasn’t running away at all, it was—

Oh, fuck.

—coiling.

By the time he realized the demon was preparing to strike it was too late to dodge. It caught him around the middle with long, wiry arms and they hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out, skidding back through the damp grass. The demon snapped at him as they fell, claws digging into his arms, and Jotaro avoided having his throat ripped out only by ignoring the screaming protests of his shoulder long enough to raise both arms and twist free. He felt something crunch when he kicked it off him, certainly, but that wouldn’t matter for long. Likely whatever he had crushed was already healing, he thought as he watched it scramble back.

Jotaro clung to his sword, breathing heavily. The new gashes on his arm were deep. It pained him to admit it, but Avdol had been right.

He would have one chance. He had one more breath technique left in him, he could feel that much. He would have one shot at slicing the mantis demon’s head off. If this one missed, if he failed, Jotaro was gone.

Sucking air through his teeth, he tried to wrestle his breathing back into some semblance of equilibrium. Wasn’t easy with bruised ribs that stabbed at him with every exhale.

If I make it out of here and see that Kakyoin fucker again I’ll rip his head off twice.

The mantis demon screamed, revealing several rows of needlelike teeth. God, he hated when they looked like bugs.

Star breathing, first form.

Not the form Jotaro preferred but it was the easiest to control. He couldn’t afford to sacrifice precision for power. The metallic ringing in his ears grew louder as the light pulled towards him once more, his knees close to buckling under the effort required to tap into the technique.

He felt strangely calm. If he died here, it would be no one’s fault but his own.

Nova.

White-hot starlight blasted from the tip of his sword, and he had the callouses to compensate for the sudden heat searing the grip, though he still gritted his teeth in discomfort. Ordinarily Jotaro could withstand the nova’s force without blinking, but it was taking everything he had to maintain his balance. His sword felt like it would go flying if he shifted his hands at all.

Weak. You’re weak.

Jotaro screamed in pain and frustration, past caring about the waste of breath. The demon screamed with him, roaring with horror that was almost human as the light scalded its mottled skin raw.

He raised both arms and his shoulder exploded with pain bright as the flash of white light that slashed at the demon as he brought his sword down—he recoiled with a sharp gasp and his sword fell from a hand that could no longer form a fist—he felt something tear, and the excess light he had failed to control struck him hard in the chest, throwing him onto his back, leaving him staring up at the stars he tried so hard and so fruitlessly to replicate.

But the wet shriek coming from the demon was promising. Jotaro struggled to prop himself up on his good elbow, staring into the darkness to see where the head had landed. If he had at least managed to off it then he could pass out in peace.

Jotaro squinted at the shape swaying in the shadows and his heart sank like a rock.

Ragged though it was, the head was undeniably still attached to the body. The demon staggered towards him, still making that horrible sound, and he realized that it wasn’t screaming at all.

It was laughing.

The demon clutched its body together with one clawlike hand, but it moved. Even as he watched, the torso sealed itself back into one piece. His strike had landed, but his knee had buckled too quickly. It had landed too low, leaving a deep, sizzling wound from collar to rib. Enough to piss the demon off, enough to slow it down, but nowhere near enough to kill it.

That’s it. It’s done.

A blast of flame from the direction of the house told him Avdol was still occupied with the other demon, that he probably couldn’t even see what was happening out back. He had trusted Jotaro to get it done. He would likely blame himself for what was about to happen.

Regrets. Stupid. Jotaro shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it.

Thumping footsteps and the click of folding joints warned him of the approach before his eyes focused on it. It charged towards him, still choking out that gargling laughter.

Jotaro closed his eyes just before the impact. The sound of ripping muscle and snapping bone reached him as though he listened from somewhere outside himself. It was almost peaceful; he could barely feel any pain.

His eyes snapped open. He couldn’t feel any pain. Nothing new, at least.

The mantis demon hung in the air above him, arms and legs hanging at impossible angles. It looked almost as shocked as Jotaro felt. The sound had seemed too far away; it wasn’t his body being shredded at all. The demon had been coming towards him with enough momentum that the torso being yanked still had ripped the limbs at the joints.

“You’ll have to finish it off yourself, I’m afraid.”

Jotaro whirled towards the soft voice and froze when he saw a markedly more humanoid demon with pale red hair.

“You?” he hissed.

Kakyoin grinned down at him, sharp and wide, and the hairs on the back of Jotaro’s neck stood up. He stood very still, one arm outstretched almost casually as a latticework of green tattoos unfurled across his forearm. Bloody strings that stretched from Kakyoin’s veins hooked into the mantis demon’s torso, suspending it like a puppet. With the element of surprise, he had been able to immobilize the other demon completely.

The mantis demon’s joints were already beginning to fuse back together, and as Jotaro watched, Kakyoin dug his claws into his arm to free more blood and sent two more strings flying at it to embed themselves in both arms. He made a fist and lowered his hand to his side, pulling the demon to ground level. Jotaro winced when its pained shriek stabbed at his headache like a needle.

Their eyes met and Kakyoin made a small movement not unlike a bow, gesturing to his prey. The moonlight framed his curls like a silver halo and he smiled again, toothy and unnaturally wide. Jotaro stared up at him. Is that what a demon is?

He groaned and hauled himself to his feet, staggering slightly when he pulled his sword free from the dirt. Kakyoin blinked at him curiously.

Did I do that?

Well, of course he had. Humans were fragile. Kakyoin shook himself, watching Jotaro prepare to strike. His right arm hung limply at his side.

Kakyoin winced when the blade hit home, his skin going raw where the starlight Jotaro had used to compensate for his weakened state touched it. He rubbed at his arms, irritated. The blood he had sacrificed to his marionette arts ensured that his healing would be slower than he preferred, at least until he was able get some fresh blood.

He glanced at Jotaro, who had fallen back to his knees with his teeth clenched in discomfort as he gazed at the disintegrating head before him. It would be easy to just rip into him right now, Kakyoin thought. It was probably good quality blood, if he was that strong. Would keep him going for a while and satisfy Muzan to boot.

That would be the smart thing to do.

“You look like shit,” Kakyoin said helpfully.

Jotaro glared at Kakyoin’s outstretched hand and turned away. Kakyoin suppressed a snort. His body may have been wounded, but his pride was clearly intact.

“Why the hell…” he croaked, stabbing his sword back into the ground to better use it as a temporary crutch. “What was all that?”

Kakyoin raised his eyebrows, withdrawing his hand as he watched Jotaro slowly attempt to stand. “I saw them,” he said carefully. “Headed in the same direction you ran off in and I—well, you were pretty banged up.”

“You off in the head or some shit?” Jotaro stared at him. “Think I need help from—a thing like—”

“Oh, save your precious breath, slayer.” Kakyoin rolled his eyes. “You think I wanted to run around owing some meathead a debt? We’re even now.”

“So you play at having morals or something?”

“Mm. Strong word for it, I think.”

Jotaro glanced at the house, where the flames had finally stopped. “If you want a rematch—”

Kakyoin waved an elegant hand dismissively. “Please. You can barely stand. That wouldn’t be any fun.”

“So why—”

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s not like I’ll ever get to fight you again if I let you get killed, right?”

Jotaro opened his mouth to respond before his eyes focused on something over Kakyoin’s shoulder. He blinked, looked at the house, looked at Kakyoin, set his jaw, and grabbed Kakyoin by the arm, dragging him down towards the forest with more strength than he should have been capable of.

“Hey—!”

“Shh,” Jotaro hissed, shoving him against the closest tree with his good arm. “Shut up.”

He looked back over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, watching for the flickering fire and seeing none. He turned back to Kakyoin

“Okay, you little shit,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. “What’s your game, what—what the fuck are you playing at?”

“My—my what?”

“I’m not stupid and neither are you.”

Kakyoin shook his head. “I’m not playing at anything.”

“I know you were sent to kill me,” Jotaro said. “I can—come on, I can see the number in your eye, I know you’re a lower moon. You’re a lower moon, you’re—you’re one of his, aren’t you?”

Kakyoin flinched as though he had been struck. He raised a hand to his eye, pushing the locks of hair that concealed it out of the way so that Jotaro could see more clearly. Jotaro inhaled sharply.

“Was,” Kakyoin muttered. “Keyword there is ‘was’.”

He had assumed the mark on Kakyoin’s eye to be a birthmark or cosmetic in nature. Demons didn’t get scarred. There was only one being alive who could damage their cells like that.

Up close, it was impossible to overlook. Two clean slashes stretching from his eyebrow to the top of his cheekbone, forming an X that extended through his right eye and scratched out the number Jotaro had seen there in only flashes as they fought.

“I was,” Kakyoin said delicately, “one of his. Not anymore.”

“He did that to you?” Jotaro looked at him with an odd expression. “Muzan did?”

“I would prefer not to say his name.”

“Shit,” he said quietly.

“I have no reason to be invested in him further,” Kakyoin continued flatly. “As I’m sure you can imagine.”

Jotaro laughed softly. “That’s bullshit. Come on, that’s such bullshit.”

“You—?”

“I know you all love that fucker like he's some kind of prophet.”

“Believe me or don’t,” Kakyoin grunted. “Makes no difference to me either way. Are you going to try and kill me or not?”

They held each other’s eyes for a long moment until Jotaro swayed slightly, nearly losing his balance again.

“Not yet,” he said reluctantly. “I want you to see something.”

“You—me?”

“I—you keep saying that like you think there’s someone else around. Yes. You.”

Kakyoin paused. Shrugged. He really is concussed. “Why?”

“I don’t trust you,” Jotaro told him. “I think you’re a bastard, really. But you might know something that could—you might know.”

“About…?”

“Follow me. Just follow me.” Abruptly he released Kakyoin and began to limp back towards the house. “You make one wrong move,” he said, “there are about to be two demon slayers in that house and one of them knows how to burn your body into ash faster than you can regenerate it, always looked like a very shitty way to go, and he is not injured.”

Kakyoin stopped walking. “The—you’ve got the old flame pillar up there?”

Jotaro snorted. “You know Avdol?”

“Heard of him.” He resumed, shook himself a little. “Is that why you dragged me down here?”

“He’d roast you as soon as see you,” Jotaro said. “Wasn’t done with you yet.”

“You have my thanks.”

“Keep it. Don’t want it.”

Kakyoin looked up at the sky nervously, watching for any sign of the approaching dawn. As the patchwork house came into view, an increasingly frantic voice could be heard calling Jotaro’s name. He sighed.

“‘Course he’d get freaked,” he mumbled. “Hey, Avdol!”

“Jotaro—? Jotaro!”

Avdol flew towards him, robe covered in ash and blood; apart from a few scrapes on his face and arms, he didn’t appear to be injured. His face twisted with disgust when he saw Kakyoin, who had backed up before he even realized he was moving.

“Another one—?” he snarled, thin blue flames beginning to crawl up his arm.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jotaro said quickly, stepping in front of him. “Hey, wait, it’s—it’s okay. He’s—he helped me out. Against that other one.”

“He helped you,” Avdol repeated. “You hit your head?”

“No—I mean, yes, but that’s beside the point.” Jotaro put a hand on Avdol’s shoulder. “Avdol. Can you just—I want to show him.” He gestured to the house. “He’s a demon. He might—I want to know what he knows.”

“You…” Avdol shook his head. “You say he helped you?”

“Would be dead if he hadn’t showed up.”

“Hm.” He squinted at Kakyoin. “He looks like a kid.”

“I’m seventeen,” Kakyoin said, annoyed.

“Young demons are the worst kind,” Avdol announced. “Are you sure you…can’t we at least maim him before you question him? For security.”

Jotaro shook his head. “Seen his regenerative abilities. Not worth it. Besides,” he continued, starting for the door, “if he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already. Think there’s something wrong with this one.”

Kakyoin looked up at the sky again, where the last constellations were just barely beginning to fade. He swallowed, rubbing at his burned arm, and followed Jotaro across the threshold.

The smell of wisteria inside the house was strong enough to burn his throat, and Kakyoin wrinkled his nose at it, wishing he could cover his mouth with something. Avdol glared at him as though daring him to complain.

Kakyoin started to speak before freezing with his mouth still open, his eyes on the pile of blankets in the corner. The wisteria was masking something else, something acrid and intimately familiar.

“That’s a demon,” he said, face flat with disbelief.

Jotaro looked at Avdol and nodded. “That’s my mom,” he replied.

“Your—she’s your—?” Kakyoin stared at Jotaro, then back at the face and hair that just barely showed over the edge of the quilts that covered her. She almost looked human, asleep like that. Only her smell betrayed her, but it betrayed her without question. He stepped nearer to her and Avdol made a convulsive movement as if to stop him. “Is she…asleep?”

“Yeah,” Jotaro said. “She wakes up once a month usually. For a day or whatever.”

“How long has she been like this?”

“Two years and three months.”

“Two years,” Kakyoin repeated. “A little hypocritical, isn’t it?”

“Well—”

“I imagine you have to feed her somehow.”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised at the venom in Avdol’s voice. “No?”

“No,” Avdol said. “We aren’t murderers.”

Kakyoin rolled his eyes. “Sure, but she—”

“We don’t feed her,” Jotaro interrupted evenly. “She doesn’t eat humans. She never has.”

“She…”

Kakyoin unclenched his fists, conscious that his nails had dug far enough into his palms to draw blood. “Never.”

“No,” Jotaro said, watching him curiously. “Never.”

Kakyoin watched the blankets rise and fall to indicate whoever was underneath them continued to breathe, despite her impossible existence. “I see,” he replied faintly.

“But she hasn’t…” Jotaro locked his jaw. “She hasn’t. It’s been six months. Since she last. You know.”

“Woke up?”

“Yeah.” He folded his arms. “So have you…do you know anything about…?”

She’s the key. It’s her. She’s the key.

“I might,” Kakyoin lied, twisting his raw hands together. “I need to check—she’s unique, but I might. I’ve heard of something…similar.”

He stepped carefully over the bed to pull a set of blinds more tightly shut where they appeared to have slipped, erasing the patch of dying starlight that had seeped through the slats to fall on the other demon.

“If starlight can make it through so can sunlight,” he told Jotaro. “Be careful.”

“I know how to take care of her,” Jotaro snapped. “Can you help or not?”

“Maybe. Maybe.” Kakyoin pulled his hood up, shuddering at the near-dawn that threatened him with the sun through gaps in the closed windows. He noticed they had been careful to place the other demon away from any such cracks. “It’s almost—you have to let me go now. You have to. I can’t help you if I burn up and I—I can’t help you if I’m stuck here. You understand? I’ll come back. Tomorrow night.”

There was a tremor in his voice he couldn’t stop from showing and he cursed himself for being so easily shaken. The two slayers watched him with deep suspicion, but neither made a move to stop him as he twisted around them and through the door, though judging from Avdol’s expression his refusal to attack was against his better judgment.

He had cut it close. Too close. His exposed skin protested where the light creeping past the trees struck it, dulled by the predawn filter though it was. Kakyoin hugged himself more tightly as he gathered speed, trying to ignore the mounting discomfort of being this close to the sun.

Humans never got it, the urgency of escaping the dawn. Sometimes it worked in their favor and sometimes it didn’t. Underestimating the desperation of a demon who was attempting to escape being burned was so often fatal, but it was sometimes a welcome surprise, to watch the creature unexpectedly crumble in the light when the slayer had been on the verge of defeat. Kakyoin knew this duality well enough. He had seen it happen both ways over the past nine months.

I have something. He called through his blood, the link that had been wired into him when he first received the demon’s power. Until death do us part, right?

Fifteen minutes later he had curled into a ball in the corner of a dilapidated shed, trying to make himself as small as possible so as to avoid the sunlight that seeped through the cracks in the rotting siding. It was less than he had hoped for, but the luxury of choosing where he would spend the day had been taken from him the moment he followed those two demons up the mountain, after Jotaro.

I have something, he repeated, aware from the heavy feeling in his chest that Muzan was listening, though he had not yet responded. When he did, the cold voice rushed into Kakyoin’s veins, impossibly close and too far away.

Have you killed Kujo?

No. Not yet. I have something better. I swear.

Silence.

You have to give me time. I’ll get it out of him.

You have a week.

Muzan’s disgust blossomed from the inside as though it were his own. Maybe it was. He wasn’t certain the distinction mattered, most days.

You have a week, Muzan repeated. Then I send more. And they won’t be washed up former lower moons this time. Don’t make me take you out with the trash, Noriaki.

Cold wind through his heart and then nothing. Kakyoin closed his eyes.

The mother was the key. If she could be different, everything could be different. That was what Muzan wanted, wasn’t it? To modify the curse? If he could just figure out what it is that was different about her—if he could just get her to wake up—she might know. Jotaro was useless in that respect, unless he remembered something he wasn’t saying. But regardless, his saturated violence was interesting in his own right. He might make a good demon one day.

An upper moon. That was who Muzan would send next. Everyone was always so afraid of the upper moons. Civilians, slayers, even pillars, even other demons, the other lower moons had shrank from any mention of them.

Kakyoin imagined himself with two marked eyes, humiliating scars healed. He smiled.

Who wouldn’t want something so wonderful?

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #70

UPDATE 70: Mannequin

Last time Mannequin had arrived to crash Skitter’s attempts to do damage control in her territory. Things are bound to get bloody if these civilians don’t get away as soon as possible! Which seems...rather unlikely. So all they can do is hope for the best. Let’s continue.

Mannequin doesn’t waste time! Mr. Wildbow continues his streak of the chapters starting with action immediately, with Mannequin lunging forward so quickly his arms just...flail behind himself. It’s scarier than it sounds when I put it like that, because, you know, blades. Besides, it’s effective, the speed gives momentum to the arm when Mannequin stops and swings, the arm at the end of the chain flying forward to slice Skitter’s head off.

I parried it with my baton.  The hit was heavy, more like trying to fend off a sledgehammer than what I’d expected. I almost lost my grip on my weapon.

What was Mannequin’s...entire being made of, again? He was a parahuman that was pretty good with self-sustaining enclosed environments, so I’m sure he had access to rare stuff. I thiiiiink I once read something about this shell being made of a ceramic-looking material. I bet he made it specifically to give strength to his attacks. Weight can increase the force of impact, as far as I know.

Mannequin’s first attack was blocked, he spun in the opposite direction, flailing his other arm towards her, without missing a beat. Instead of blocking, Skitter dodges, the chains wrap around Mannequin. Looks like his strategy is to make circles with his arms and blades. Keep Skitter away, all that. Not that she could do much, anyway! Armsmaster could, because he had the nanomachine halberd. Skitter doesn’t. I think all she can do in this fight is try to keep him away from the civilians, deter him in some way. Defeating him seems like a bit too tall of an order.

As his detached arm reeled in, the fingers folded backwards around the end of one of his feet, gripping it.  He retracted the blade at the toe of the other foot and dropped that foot flat on the ground.  The motion seemed to unbalance him, and he teetered, almost falling over.  Then in one sudden motion, he righted himself and thrust out with his other leg and the three-foot blade that was now attached to it.

Hm. Maybe that can be a way to try to get an edge over him. I’m not sure, but this gave me the impression making him lose his balance could be a possible strategy. How to do such thing, though? And how would that help? Because he could right himself up with ease, you know, a strategy can’t rely on that too much.

I didn’t have time to get out of the way, to bring my baton up to defend myself or even to do more than belatedly realize his near-collapse had been a feint.

Oh, nevermind. Good thing her costume is very resistant against blades. Skitter can only be on the defensive, try to conceal her movements and roll around. It fails and she gets struck, chance Mannequin uses to come and slit her throat – or at least try to.

In one heartbeat, I formed and initiated a plan.  I grunted and made a choking sound, which was all the more realistic because he’d just pulled a length of metal hard against my windpipe; I did want to grunt and I did choke.  Then I went limp and had every bug in the area cease moving.  Like snowflakes, the flies began drifting down from the air.

Kudos for thinking of a plan so quickly. I hope she can think of something else just as quickly, because if he thinks Skitter is dead now, then he’s going to kill everyone else here, that’s a guarantee, and it won’t take him long to slice through many civilians. The challenge here is that Mannequin excels at endurance. He can’t feel tired, so he’ll continue pressing on no matter what. He’s strong, fast, has range...and some extent of physical resistance against attacks. Honestly I’m stumped. I can’t even begin to think of a potential plan.

He could sense me somehow.  How? It had been reckless of me to assume that he used sight to get by, especially when he didn’t have eyeholes in his mask.  The fact that he hadn’t noticed I was faking meant he wasn’t relying on sight, or his sight was limited enough that he couldn’t make out the lack of blood through the cloud of bugs around us.  If he wasn’t hearing my breathing, I doubted he had super hearing either.

Well...on his favor I’ll say that a swarm of insects isn’t a good wall when it’s about hiding from sight, unless it’s really cluttered, and even then if the swarm moves along with her that would make it easy to pinpoint her location. That said, maybe something like heat sensors? That could be it! It’s not like a dead body would cool down immediately, he wouldn’t notice right then and there that she isn’t dead.

It’s said in a moment of crisis the processing power of the brain increases. I can believe all these thoughts are happening in the half a minute or so that’d take for a civilian to lose their cool and try to run.

If I was going to attack, I needed to find a weak point.  But he was smart.  Before the disaster that had turned him into this, he had been on the brink of solving many of the world’s crises.  Overpopulation, renewable energy, effective recycling, world hunger.  Even with tinker abilities offering the means, it took someone special to manage that and actually make progress.

I had to go check what Dragon had said about Mannequin, about how his wife and children were killed by the Simurgh. I can imagine Jack and whoever else was in the team back then would get a kick out of destroying a promising parahuman’s future and life by throwing salt into his wounds until he joined the team. Something like what Bonesaw did to Panacea! But it sure sucks that one of the few people who would be able to improve the world went into the hardcore villain life.

Despite that, being smart at these science feats doesn’t make him invincible. There must be a weakness somewhere, right? Because Worm isn’t ending here. Skitter must have been able to do something.

What would I do in his shoes, with his power?

I wouldn’t leave any vital openings uncovered.  That was a given.  My focus -Mannequin’s focus- would be on designing way to make himself a completely closed system.  It wasn’t just sensible, it was the whole point of his transformation.

In that case...hm. Well I think it’s a given he won’t be destroyed by Skitter, no way, no how. Maybe she could disable him for enough time to get everyone away from him? Hardly, since once he recovers he would go pursue them. The more I think about this the more it seems like driving him away is the only option, and that can only be done with something he can’t overcome. The problem is that an abandoned warehouse/factory/where they are right now is not the kind of place that has anything that could be used that way.

intake of energy by absorption of heat

For a moment the possibility of depriving him of heat crossed my mind, but there are problems: one is that they have no way of depriving him of heat, the other is that I bet he has some sort of batteries inside to supply energy if that’s cut.

I’m growing more convinced he may perceive the world around him thanks to heat.

Putting myself in his shoes, I had to think of his motivation.  Why this form?  I’d make myself resemble a doll or a store mannequin because… it was an eternal reminder. Didn’t his wife and kids die when the Simurgh attacked?  There was a story there.

But what else? Why resemble a human?

Mobility’s sake? Being used to a humanoid shape for who knows how many years and not wanting to delve into uncharted territory? A wish to use the uncanny valley effect to unsettle people? Who knows.

To mislead? Maybe the configuration of ‘my’ organs and parts wasn’t human in the slightest.

And then it will turn out Mannequin divided his brain into pieces and buried them in, say, his ankle. Hah! Okay, no, I think many physical attackers would be deterred by the hard carapace, and even if they got through it, I’d have a few failsafes. Just in case. I think Mannequin’s brain or something is here, inside the body instead of somewhere else.

If I were him… I would have spent hours carefully balancing the ‘ecosystems’ of each individual part of my body.  Something that exacting and that fine tuned would be sensitive, fragile.  They’d be resistant to impacts, I wouldn’t go around getting into fights if they weren’t.  But heat and cold?  A crack in that exterior of his?  It could wreak havoc.

Then I insist he’d have failsafes for such situations. Crush anything he has? Another three start working surreptitiously. I’m just picturing Mannequin as if he’s some sort of underwater city: since it’s, you know, underwater, you need to have there everything you need in case something breaks, like replacement pieces, machinery, etc, already inside the environment. That’s the logic I’m following with Mannequin here, that it’s likely he’d be ready for when anything breaks inside him.

Bugs dealt with threats that were encased in hard shells all the time, didn’t they? They dealt with other species of bugs. There were a hundred solutions there, if I was willing to look for them.

That was the spark of inspiration I needed.  In a matter of seconds, I had a plan.

You know what, I’ll ask Google. No useful results. That’ll make whatever Skitter planned a surprise, then. I sure won’t see it coming because I’m still stumped, haha.

It wasn’t a good plan, but it was something.  As a just-in-case measure, I could try some other smaller plans, on the off chance that they might distract or even work.

...hm. In personal experience, no plan worth doing is started with ‘it wasn’t a good plan’. I hope it goes better than I expect by now, Skitter.

Whatever plan she has right now requires two minutes of preparation, since she needs materials from her lair in order for it to work. Meanwhile she has to wait, hope nobody will make Mannequin attack, and try not to move. It’s nerve-wracking for her to have to do all that, to stay still and not let anyone know she’s still alive, and keep hearing how Mannequin is getting ready for mass murder. A kid gets Mannequin’s attention. She can’t afford to wait any longer and stands up, all bugs in the area rising from the floor. So...all she can do is try to endure until the supplies are here. With as little pain as possible, hopefully!

Mannequin either doesn’t care Skitter just told him to stop and fight her, or he wants her to do something harsh in her attempt to save somebody from him. Most likely the second one, I think. So of course Skitter obliges, thanks to the hero instinct that makes her fight for the civilians, and tackles Mannequin’s legs. He does fall down. Hah! Well that gave enough time for Mannequin’s targets to run, so sure, that works! Except the part of getting a leg around her throat, but that’s nothing she didn’t see coming, I bet.

Not counting the time I’d spent lying on the ground, buying time, how long had I lasted? Less than thirty seconds?

You make it sound like nothing, Skitter! That’s a fourth of the time you need. Good enough! Supposing she was lying there on the floor for another thirty seconds, that’d mean she’d have half of the time already. Not bad, I’d say!

Mannequin has Skitter in a headlock, and he’ll try to chop her into bits with his blades as if they were a fan, she manages to damage those blades enough to make the unable to spin quick enough for that. In a rather daring effort, she strikes at the joint of the leg several times, mere inches from his face. That’s dangerous! She must have one heck of a steady hand! Even though her costume is good against blades, something with enough force to pierce it could injure her, right? I bet this didn’t amuse Mannequin at all, because he throws Skitter into a pile of wooden boards with nails and screws, while still holding her. It’s the perks of having limbs that are attached to your body with a chain.

To get herself free, Skitter uses her knife as a crowbar, getting away with just a headache, bruises and a blurry spot on a lens of her mask. All in all, she’s not doing too badly against a Slaughterhouse Nine member! She sure has lasted much longer than before this time. Still not enough for the bugs to arrive with what she needs for her plans, apparently, but that was longer than when she got shoved into the floor and Mannequin tried to kill her

Could I hold out for long enough?  Could the bystanders?  The moment my bugs arrived would be the moment I could begin my plan.  I’d still have to survive after that, and there was no guarantee it would work.  In fact, my gut was telling me it was a long shot.

A long shot is better than nothing. I don’t think Skitter has mentioned exactly what supplies her bugs are bringing. It can’t be anything too heavy. Whatever she’s planning will have to be very clever, since she can’t rely on strength or weight for whatever she wants. She needs around a minute more before her bugs arrive.

What was going on behind that expressionless mask?  Was he coming up with a battle plan?  Maybe, maybe not.  He didn’t really need one.  It could be that he was calculating how best to destroy me: not just killing me, but ruining me.  There were enough ways he could do it.  Inflicting lifelong scars and injury.  Or he could go down the opposite road and murder the civilians, leaving me as the only one standing.  Both were very real possibilities, both devastating in their own way.

He already tried to kill Skitter, I really doubt he’d maim her, kill everyone else and call it a day. He’s going to try his best to destroy her. Kind of a double-edged sword here, the more he thinks, the more time the bugs will have to arrive, but he also may think of better and cleverer plans.

Or maybe, behind that hard shell, he was in the throes of mental anguish.  Maybe he was spending every second of every day reliving the day he lost his family and his dreams to a nigh-unstoppable, malignant force.

I don’t know if at this point that’s possible. Wouldn’t anyone take measures to not to think about that? He sure has the means better than anyone, being a tinker and also having Bonesaw in the team. I lean more towards he planning Skitter’s horrible, horrible demise.

Not having any other option and maybe not wanting him to come with novel ways to kill her, she goes with Plan A: jam the mechanisms with bugs. While he bludgeons Skitter with some of his weapons, she manages to cram insects inside the slots those weapons came out from, and tries to clog the system. Well if the bugs are large enough and the mechanisms are small enough that could work.

Mannequin stepped back, and I watched as he retracted all of his blades, the slots they’d speared out of sealing closed behind them.  A wave of pressure and heat killed off every bug and likely most of the gunk I’d managed to smear inside.

Ooooor he could do that. Self-contained environment, with ways to counter common problems like insects. Oh well. It was worth a try. For Plan B she’ll need her baton. How exactly she’ll use it...well she sure won’t be able to jam the baton anywhere, that’s for sure! While her bugs go fetch the baton, he lunges at her.

This time, his attack was frenzied.  If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was irritated.

She said heroes and villains better than her have faced Mannequin before, but I wonder how long they have lasted? Because Skitter sure hasn’t done badly! And maybe that does irritate him. I’d like to think it does.

Mannequin flails around, blades and limbs going around, hitting her and throwing her back into the pile of wood. She acquires one to try to deviate a blade towards the floor, another two strike her chest, getting stuck in her armor. See, I bet that’s another thing that may be frustrating Mannequin. Skitter is not a parahuman known for being invulnerable, she has no amazing physical strength, she’s as squishy and defenseless-looking as she can be, yet he can’t kill her, he just hasn’t been able to do it yet. That must be frustrating, especially for a killer, yeah?

She lasted long enough for her swarm to arrive. They don’t seem to have brought anything. Hm.  But if they had to come all the way from her lair instead of using bugs that are here and now, then...I think I’m onto something, but I just can’t take this train of logic to the last station. I feel like I’m forgetting something important, like I should have figured it out already, but I just can’t pinpoint it, no matter how hard I think.

There’s emphasis on how the bugs are moving in a symmetrical pattern, and on Mannequin’s peculiar way of sensing things. He can feel the bugs somehow, so maybe I was wrong about it working with heat sensors. Every time the swarm sweeps over him, he staggers. Hm... Skitter’s getting her behind kicked pretty hard here, yet the bugs keep passing over him, three times by now.

The swarm consisted of pairings of flying insect and arachnid.  Every spider from my lair was clutching a bee, a wasp or a larger dragonfly, who clutched the spider in turn.  A thousand pairs.

That’s what I was having a hard time remembering! Right, she has all of her strong silk-making spiders in her hideout! The ones with the strands that can get really strong when weaved correctly. If she had to bring them, then her plan is to use it against Mannequin somehow. So the reason why the swarm is passing over Mannequin is because they’re leaving silk on him, then? Trying to...restrain him? That’s where this thought is kind of falling apart. True, these strands can be resistant, but that’s only when weaved properly and when there are many strands together. They’ll have to pass many times more over Mannequin to have enough silk for that.

That said, looks like Mannequin can’t detect something as minute as spiderweb strands. That could be worth noting and remembering, perhaps? Hm...

The very next paragraph confirms what I think Skitter is doing. Her focus is on his joints; I suppose that means she’s going to again try to mess with the mechanisms inside his body. What may stop this from not working just like it happened with Plan A is that he can’t notice the spiderweb, as I said not too long ago, I think. So...the moment he realizes it is the moment the plan is over, most likely. Hey, worth a try, anyways, since the Plan B of bending and damaging his blades didn’t work.

When Mannequin fires the arm aaaaaall the way to where Skitter is, she focuses her spiders and webs onto the chair, trying to gum it up as much as possible.

The last quarter of the retraction process was a fraction slower.  Silk glue gumming up the works, I could hope.  I saw him look at his arm, then flex the fingers, as if to test them.

It’s working! I admit I’m surprised. She wasn’t wrong when she said it was a long shot, it’s a good thing it’s working! It doesn’t take long for him to realize what Skitter’s doing, but he doesn’t seem able to counter it. He swings a blade, most likely trying to sever any strings that may be around him, and strikes down a couple civilians. Dang, it was all going so well and not-so-bloody so far. It’s a good thing he’s far too busy to keep slicing at people.

When he moved to retract that chain, the mechanism stalled.

I remember he had closed everything before he was able to incinerate the stuff inside the shell. If he can’t retract the chain all the way, then maybe he can’t. So now he’s going to have that arm hanging around, that may throw him off balance a bit.

A better cape than I might have had a quip there, an insult.

Add a campy pose and maybe it will work.

Since he can’t retract the chain, Mannequin snaps the chain and slams the hand in its spot again and, in what I’m interpreting as a move that shows how irritated he feels right now, he gets all his blades out and spins them to cut as many webs as possible and goes towards the civilians. Even though he managed to cut most of what was over him, Skitter wastes no time in throwing more webs on him.

He doesn’t stop advancing towards the civilians, so Skitter goes with the second part of the plan: turns out half of the swarm did bring objects, and they throw everything on Mannequin. Pieces of costume, paints, glue, everything. There’s a lot of stains on Mannequin, the pieces get stuck on him, it’s...it’s actually rather rewarding to read about. Against all odds, she’s managing to fight and humiliate him. It’s very impressive.

Taking advantage of the moment, Skitter hits with a piece of wood and makes him fall to the floor, chance she uses to grab the arm and pull, pull so hard she snaps the hand off. She also throws from the head, until she separates it.

Mannequin must be lighter than I expected, Skitter’s managing to drag him a bit. She’s struggling, so a burly civilian comes forth to help. Good thing it’s safer now than before. Between the two of them they manage to get the head all the way to a few steel bars, where she ties the head. Her plan is that Mannequin may not want to leave without his head, so...if the chain is too strong, then he won’t break it, and therefore he won’t be able to leave.

Even with stuff gumming up the works, his chest clearly had stronger mechanisms inside it than the rest of his body did.

Guess that confirms all that’s important is right there in the chest instead of the head. She tries to continue, but she can’t, she wanted to hit the head with the cinder block. Hoping to crack it open? Unlikely she’d have been able to do it, anyway. Mannequin stands up...

Had I pissed him off?

Oh, definitely. No doubt about it. His body is all damaged, he lost an arm – arm that’s trying to crawl towards the rest of his body – and he has a lot of spiderwebs and many assorted stuff all over him. He never seemed to me like someone who didn’t have emotions anymore, so yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s royally pissed off right now.

To stop him from reaching his hand, Skitter gets in the way. That must have been the last straw, because he reaches into his neck and takes out a knife that has Armsmaster’s nanomachine technology. Ah. I suppose he took it with him when he went to recruit him, or he recreated it from what he saw at that moment. Okay, Skitter has to dodge that no matter what.

She’s actually dodging it! And while she does, that burly bystander does what she wanted and hits the head with the cinder block a few times. Say, maybe you should consider offer him a job, Skitter. He deserves some sort of reward. He may have saved your life right now. The head disconnects from the chain and falls onto the floor. The hand tries to return to the body, Skitter covers it with more webbing, stopping it in its tracks. Victory?

If disabling the hand wasn’t decisive enough, then carrying and gluing the arm to the ceiling may be, Skitter even uses that chance to make him lose his balance again, falling to the floor. She even asks him if he wants to keep going. It takes a moment for him to answer, he stands up and makes a gesture of disapproval before...leaving. He’s actually leaving. I think I need to say it again:

Skitter just managed to drive away Mannequin of the Slaughterhouse Nine. That’s a feat no matter how you look at it.

The moment Mannequin is many blocks away, Skitter gives herself time to rest, falling to her knees. All around her people start murmuring, and Charlotte comes to help. Oh hey, Charlotte, you still were around! Quite an impressive show, eh?

I couldn’t take the criticism, and I didn’t deserve any praise.  How many people had been hurt while I fought Mannequin?  How many people had died because I hadn’t been on the alert?

The narration said like five people got hurt during the fight, and before it all happened, Mannequin killed two paramedics and the woman who was so against Skitter. Not a negligible amount of wounded and casualties, but...she really stopped it from getting worse. If it hadn’t been for her, maybe someone would have been found cut and strung with chains, just like one of the unfortunate victims from the Wards interlude.

Mourning the loss of the lives that were lost, Skitter apologizes to the corpse of the woman that was killed, and instructs Charlotte to throw the head and the arm down into the ocean. Mannequin abandoned the head because it seems it was damaged enough to require being abandoned, there’s some fluid starting to leak from it. Leaving it all in any random place could be risky in case Mannequin can track it down and wants to recover it, so yeah, to the bottom of the ocean it will be. Not wanting to face the residents of her territory, Skitter leaves.

I’d won. So to speak.

Somehow. Seriously, that was a feat.

Now that was the end of the chapter. That was the fight with Mannequin! I...I have a couple opinions. Judging by the reactions I got from my inbox when I expressed my dissatisfaction last update, I think one of those opinions may not be entirely welcome, but hey, that’s what happens with a liveblog. It’s the risk I take when I say what crosses my mind about a story!

Before voicing them, though, I’ll do what I said I would do. An anonymous contributor messaged me. There were reasons as to why this was a good place for the Mannequin fight, and why it’s good it’s happening. At the time I didn’t read more than a few words, so I wouldn’t be influenced and I could get to the fight in more or less the same state of mind I had when I stopped last time. Blind liveblogs thrive when opinions are authentic at the time of the reading, I’d say! So now that I finished reading the fight, I think I can pay due attention to the message. Let’s see...

Anonymous says: We know from 11.d that Mannequin likes to target people who are helping others or trying to make the world a better place. Basically anyone who's trying to succeed where he failed. Right now, skitter is doing more than basically anyone else in the city to help people survive the attack. It makes sense that that world make her his number one target.

Good point. It was mentioned that was some of Mannequin’s preferred targets. He did show disapproval at Skitter’s actions of trying to save people. Quite the fast reaction from Mannequin, though. It has been...what, an hour since Shatterbird made all glass and sand explode? Word sure traveled fast to Mannequin. I’m blaming Cherish for that.

Anonymous says: Plague stands for the spreading of scourge. This arc is the stablishing of how to deal with the arrival of the S9: You dont. Because this isn't your generic story where by villains throw themselves one at a time to be picked off. The group acts as this individual all-encompassing threat of escalation, where each member is going so all out each of them is an umoredictabke disaster. Except we KNEW Mannequin hates people trying to help others. The glass thing was a tone set for the scale of CONT...

Nnnnnot entirely convinced. When you put it like that it makes it essential for every other member to be out there causing chaos right now. Maybe they’re doing it offscreen, maybe they’re not, but right now, from what I read and see here in the story, and leaving Shatterbird’s song aside, Mannequin’s looking a bit like a lone incident, in terms of attacking people in the city.

Anonymous says: Cont... Things to come, how terrible is the plague. I cant imagine writing an entire arc of skitter and co helping people in the sameish manner while the S9 just stand by when they have just officially announced that they are here and the games have begun. It just doesnt make sense tome that the murder hobos wouldn't be out there murdering, just for the sake of our character having a breather. All other problems at the start were for groups. Even the glass, but its a testament to WB's CONT...

...yeah, I suppose...it wouldn’t make sense. I thought they’d be busy enough...I don’t know, discussing what to do regarding Tattletale’s challenge. They have/had to discuss it, after all. Change their plans accordingly. Modify their tests plans to make sure they’d win. Maaaaybe they already did so, and now they’re out there having fun. I don’t know.

Anonymous says: Writing that we were so into Taylors mind that it seemed like her problem to solve. "but fuck me most of all" she says as she walks away from the HUNDREDS of people she just saved while her legs probably cramp up from all the lactic acid. Now mannequin, THIS is a threat to Taylor as a powered individual, THIS is the response for her first majorly heroic acts in a while. I would love to hear more of your opinion though!

I like the thought that this is the consequences of her efforts to save as many people as possible, I admit. The universe balances good actions with bad consequences, that’s how the Worm universe works. All in all...hm...well it’s time for my opinions now that I read the fight.

First, I’ll admit it was better than I expected. I came to this fight without many expectations, mostly because, well, you know by now I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Now that it’s over, I’m looking back and I find my opinion has improved. It was mostly the last part what made me change my mind, though. Until then, I was feeling kind of underwhelmed – because I couldn’t know what exactly Skitter was planning, and because if she had lost and everyone had been slaughtered, well, it’d have looked like gratuitous death to make things harder for Skitter. It’d have been a sentiment stemming from how outmatched she’d be against a killer that’s a worldwide threat.

But that didn’t happen! She actually was able to fight and do her best. Even if she hadn’t won, the fact she was able to hold her own would have been enough for me. I think that’s what turned this fight into something worthwhile. I didn’t take for granted she’d win since Mr. Wildbow isn’t afraid of letting the main characters suffer defeats, and this time I’m glad it didn’t happen.

So...yeah, I’m okay with this turn of events now. Fine. You win, Mr. Wildbow, you convinced me. Kind of at the last moment, but you did.

I will stop for now. See you next time.

Next time: in two updates

[orbemnews]

The Silicon Valley Start-Up That Caused Wall Street Chaos The online trading app Robinhood became a cultural phenomenon and a Silicon Valley darling with a promise to wrest the stock market away from Wall Street’s traditional gatekeepers and “let the people trade” — making it as easy to put millions of dollars at risk as it is to summon an Uber. This past week, in the middle of a market frenzy pitting amateur traders against hedge fund bigwigs, that veneer began to chip. As it turned out, Robinhood was at the mercy of the very industry it had vowed to upend. The frenzy morphed into a crisis when legions of armchair investors on Robinhood, who had been buying up options and shares of GameStop, a video game retailer, enlarged those bets and also began making big trades in other stocks, including AMC Entertainment. As the trading mania grew, the financial system’s risk reduction mechanisms — managed by obscure entities at the center of the stock market called clearinghouses — kicked in on Thursday, forcing Robinhood to find emergency cash to continue to be able to trade. It had to stop customers from buying a number of heavily traded stocks and draw on a more than $500 million bank line of credit. On Thursday night, the company also took an emergency infusion of more than $1 billion from its existing investors. A high-flying start-up suddenly looked a lot like an overwhelmed, creaky company. “From a marketing standpoint they position themselves as new, innovative, cool,” said Peter Weiler, the co-chief executive of the brokerage and trading firm Abel Noser. “What I think everyone is missing is, when you peel the onion back they are just a heavily regulated business.” Robinhood’s distress follows a familiar narrative: A Silicon Valley company that promised to disrupt an industry ends up being overcome by the forces it unleashed and has to be reined in by regulators, or in this case, the industry it promised to change. Its arc is not all that different from Facebook and Google, which changed the ways in which billions of people socialize and search for information, but are now caught in the cross hairs of lawmakers and an angry public. “They were trying to change the rules of the road without understanding how the road was paved and without any respect for the existing guard rails,” said Chris Nagy, a former trading executive at TD Ameritrade and the co-founder of the Healthy Markets Association, a nonprofit that seeks to educate market participants. “It ended up creating risk for their customers and systemic risk for the market more broadly.” GameStop vs. Wall Street Let Us Help You Understand Shares in GameStop, the video game retailer, have soared because amateur investors, starting on Reddit, have bet heavily on shares of the company. The wave gained momentum in response to large hedge funds short selling GameStop stock — basically they were betting against the company’s success. The sudden demand has driven up the share price from less than $20 in December to nearly $200 on Thursday. On paper, anyway. It’s not just GameStop. Amateur investors have backed other companies that many big investors had shunned, such as AMC and BlackBerry. This bubble around GameStop may force big investors to raise money to cover their losses, or dump shares of other companies. The fiasco will almost certainly have consequences for the company. The Securities and Exchange Commission said on Friday that it would closely review any actions that may “disadvantage investors or otherwise unduly inhibit their ability to trade certain securities.” Lawmakers on both sides of the aisle called for hearings over complaints that customers were shut out of trades. After Robinhood limited some trading on Thursday and the price of the stock plunged, furious users flooded online app stores with vitriolic reviews, with some accusing Robinhood of doing the bidding of Wall Street. Others sued the company for the losses they sustained. Robinhood’s continuing vulnerability, even after raising $1 billion, became clear on Friday when it restricted trading in more than 50 stocks. “It was not because we wanted to stop people from buying these stocks,” Robinhood said in a blog post on Friday night. Rather, the start-up said, it restricted buying in volatile stocks so that it could “comfortably” meet deposit requirements imposed by its clearinghouses, which it noted had increased tenfold during the week. None of this seems to be slowing down its growth. Even as Robinhood’s actions angered existing customers, it was winning new ones. The app was downloaded more than 177,000 times on Thursday, twice the daily download rate over the previous week, according to Apptopia, a data provider, and it had 2.7 million daily active users on its mobile app that day, its highest ever. That’s more than its rivals — Schwab, TD Ameritrade, E*Trade, Fidelity and Webull — combined. All Growth, Few Guardrails Controversy is not new for Robinhood. The two Stanford classmates who created the company in 2013 said from the beginning that their focus was on “democratizing finance” by making trading available to anyone. To do so, the Menlo Park, Calif., company has repeatedly employed a classic Silicon Valley formula of user-friendly software, brash marketing and a disregard for existing rules and institutions. Online brokers had traditionally charged around $10 for every trade, but Robinhood said that customers of its phone app could trade for free. The move drew in hordes of young investors. In building its business, the company disregarded academic research showing how frequent, frictionless trading generally does not lead to good financial outcomes for investors. The risks to customers became clear last summer when a 20-year-old college student’s suicide note blamed a six-figure trading loss for his death. Robinhood also popularized options trading among novices. An option is generally cheaper than buying a stock outright, but has the potential to lead to much bigger and faster gains and losses, which is why regulators and brokers have traditionally restricted trading in these financial contracts to more sophisticated traders. Robinhood’s marketing, meanwhile, papered over the fact that its business model, and the free trading, were paid for by selling customer’s orders to Wall Street firms in a system known as “payment for order flow.” Big trading firms like Citadel Securities and Virtu Financial give Robinhood a small fee each time they buy or sell for its customers, typically a fraction of a penny per share. These trading firms make money, in turn, by pocketing the difference, known as the “spread,” between the buy and sell price on any given stock trade, and the more trades they handle, the greater their potential revenue. Many other online brokers rely on a similar system, but Robinhood has negotiated to collect significantly more for each trade than other online brokers, The Times has found. The mismatch between Robinhood’s marketing and the underlying mechanics led to a $65 million fine from the S.E.C. last month. The agency said that Robinhood had misled customers about how it was paid by Wall Street firms for passing along customer trades. Robinhood has also run afoul of regulators as it rushed to release new products. In December 2018, the company said it would offer a checking and savings account that would be insured by the Securities Investor Protection Corporation, or S.I.P.C., which protects investors when a brokerage firm fails. But S.I.P.C.’s then-chief executive said he hadn’t heard about Robinhood’s plan, and he pointed out that the S.I.P.C. doesn’t protect plain-vanilla savings accounts — that would be the job of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. It took almost a year for Robinhood to reintroduce the product, saying in a blog post that it “made mistakes” with its earlier announcement. “They went in trying to make big splashes and they often had to get reeled back in,” said Scott Smith, a brokerage analyst at the financial firm Cerulli Associates. The Clash With Wall Street Robinhood’s ambitions and amateurism collided in recent weeks as small investors, many of them on a mission to challenge the dominance of Wall Street, used its free trades to push up the stock of GameStop and other companies. Rampant speculation on options contracts helped drive the rise of GameStop’s shares from about $20 on Jan. 12 to nearly $500 on Thursday — a rally that forced Robinhood to hit the brakes on its own customers. One institution that tripped up Robinhood this past week is a clearinghouse called the Depository Trust & Clearing Corporation. Owned by its member financial institutions including Robinhood, the D.T.C.C. clears and settles most stock trading, essentially making sure that the money and the shares end up in the right hands. (Options trades are cleared by another entity.) But the D.T.C.C.’s role is more than just clerical. Clearinghouses are supposed to help insulate a particular market from extreme risks, by making sure that if a single financial player goes broke, it doesn’t create contagion. To do its job, the D.T.C.C. requires its members to keep a cushion of cash that can be put toward stabilizing the system if needed. And when stocks are swinging wildly or there’s a flurry of trading, the size of the cushion it demands from each member — known as a margin call — can grow on short notice. That’s what happened on Thursday morning. The D.T.C.C. notified its member firms that the total cushion, which was then $26 billion, needed to grow to $33.5 billion — within hours. Because Robinhood customers were responsible for so much trading, they were responsible for footing a significant portion of the bill. The D.T.C.C.’s demand is not negotiable. A firm that can’t meet its margin call is effectively out of the stock trading business because D.T.C.C. won’t clear its trades any more. “If you can’t clear a trade, you can’t trade a trade,” said Robert Greifeld, the former chief executive of Nasdaq and current chairman of Virtu Financial. “You’re off the island. You’re banished.” For veteran players like Citadel Securities and JPMorgan Chase, generating additional hundreds of millions of dollars on short notice was not a problem. But for a start-up like Robinhood, it was a mad scramble. While it cobbled together the needed cash from its credit line and investors, Robinhood limited customers from buying GameStop, AMC and other shares. Allowing its investors to sell these volatile stocks — but not buy them — reduced its risk level and helped it meet requirements for additional cash, Robinhood said in its blog post. Ultimately, the company succeeded in pulling together roughly $1 billion from some of its existing investors, including the venture firms Sequoia Capital and Ribbit Capital. As a sweetener, Robinhood issued special shares to those investors that will give them a better deal when the company goes public, as early as this year. But the quick deal left more than one observer scratching their heads. “How does an online broker find itself in need of an overnight infusion of a billion dollars?” asked Roger McNamee, a longtime investor who co-founded the private-equity firm Elevation Partners. “There’s something about this that says somebody is really scared about what’s going on.” Source link Orbem News #Caused #Chaos #Silicon #StartUp #Street #Valley #Wall

[ygoreviews]

Evolzar Laggia ———————————————— 2 Level 4 Dinosaur-Type monsters During either player's turn, when a monster(s) would be Normal or Special Summoned, OR a Spell/Trap Card is activated: You can detach 2 Xyz Materials from this card; negate the Summon or activation, and if you do, destroy that card. ———————————————— Can Be Found In: Photon Shockwave (PHSW-EN043), Collectible Tins 2012 Wave 1 (CT09-EN011), Duelist Saga (DUSA-EN088)

Many summons involving the Extra Deck might be limited to the specific materials some monsters will ask to. However, as long we can meet their requeriments is quite possible to fit those restricted summons in all kinds of builds. Thanks to the card game giving total liberty for players to mix all sorts of themes and mechanics, we can create a Deck that is able to work arround their main goals yet able to spare some cards to summon those particular creatures. And in many cases is quite worth it, as to compensate their limited conditions they often carry powerful abilities to reward those who summon them.

"Evolzar Laggia" is one of the boss monsters residing the Evol archetype, yet became a powerful Xyz Monster for any build capable to handle Dinosaurs of all shapes and forms. Despite being a Rank 4 monster "Laggia" provides a powerful ability in return, as by detaching two materials will negate and destroy a summon or the activation of a Spell or Trap Card. This effect might only have a single use due the mechanics arround Xyz Monsters, yet by covering several scenarios as well the cheap conditions for its summon makes "Laggia" a staple choice for all sorts of builds which either completely focuses arround Evol and/or Dinosaurs, or simply adds a few tools to summon "Laggia" without clogging the rest of our Deck.

Despite being limited to be summoned by using Dinosaurs, "Laggia" obtains a massive number of materials from not only its archetype but also any Deck that can play with a few monsters of this Type. The fastest method known by many competitive players is with the help of "Rescue Rabbit", a creature that banishes itself to summon two Normal Monsters from our Deck more than ready to summon "Laggia" from our very first turn. With further investment from cards like "Unexpected Dai" and "Swing of Memories", pretty much a Normal Monster Deck mainly involving Dinosaurs will make sure that "Laggia" and its copies are always prepared to be Xyz Summoned. But a Deck arround Effect Monsters won't have more problems in comparison, not just because they can simply add Normal Monsters to their strategy but also get further assistance from cards like "Miscellaneousaurus" and "Souleating Oviraptor" to gather materials in one way or another. If we wanna stay on theme and play arround Evol monsters not onyl they gain the support from the previously mentioned cards, but with the help of effects like "Evolsaur Vulcano" and "Evo-Force" we can assure momentum arround their summoning mechanics as we also prepare the arrival of "Laggia". Last but not least, we can start Duels by instead pressuring the opponent by attacks of monsters like "Hydrogeddon" and "Jurrac Guaiba" as they summon other Dinosaurs from our Deck in the process, allowing us to Xyz Summon them together during the Main Phase 2.

With a more than covered Xyz Summon, "Evolzar Laggia" shouldn't take too long to be on the board and be prepared to answer a big number of actions and threats. Even if the effect of "Laggia" only has a single use, dealing with virtually any summon during a Duel can completely ruin any potential setups or simply destroy any powerful enemies landing on the opponent's field. Not only that but "Laggia" has also an opportunity to negate and destroy several monsters summoned all at once, mainly coming from Pendulum Summons since any other source will be simply negated by this monster or any other countermeasures we can have. Spells and Traps won't be less of an exception when "Laggia" is on the field, as if is not countering all sorts of tools the opponent is relying to setup their strategies will protect our field from all sorts of dangers like "Raigeki" or "Cosmic Cyclone". As soon "Laggia" uses it effect it might seem that doesn't offer much than attacks, but it can actually have a second purpose as material for other monsters including Rank-Up summons to become an attached material on stronger Xyz Monsters like "Evolzar Solda" or "Number 61: Volcasaurus".

"Evolzar Laggia" quickly became a popular choice in any Deck that either focuses arround Dinosaurs or simply adds a few options like "Rescue Rabbit" to assure its immediate arrival. Its effect might only have a single use, but by covering all kinds of bases makes its effect very difficult for the opponent to pass by without damaging their summons and/or setups. The biggest problem arround Laggia is neither its limited materials or an effect with one opportunity to activate it, but rather the fact that cannot deal with monster effects as they become more and more prevalent than Spell and Trap cards. While this flaw made it lose popularity over alternatives like its Evol comrade "Evolzar Dolkka" working arround the same setups and mechanics, "Laggia" still remains a powerful choice for any Deck that can quickly bring out Dinosaurs for a Xyz Summon right from our first turn.

Personal Rating: A+

+ Negates a summon or the activation of a Spell or Trap Card + Greatly assisted for a very cheap Xyz Summon

- Due its effect's cost will mostly have a single use - Unable to deal against monster effects as they become more prevalent

[jesseneufeld]

13 Alternatives to Burpees for When You’re Tired of Doing Burpees

Whenever I’m strapped for time and equipment and still need a solid workout, I turn to the burpee. Burpees are bodyweight exercises, and thus require no equipment or weights. They are full body movements that engage every muscle group, require only as much space as you need to do a pushup, and can be done anywhere. You can do them slowly and methodically, or quick for a sprint-like workout. If you’re ever outdoors and need to warm up fast, a quick set of 15-20 burpees will get your body temperature up faster than anything. The pros go on and on.

Now, I don’t typically bake burpees into my week-to-week workouts. Instead, I resort to a burpee workout when I’m crunched for time, don’t have access to a gym or nice outdoor experience, or am otherwise not feeling a full-on gym workout but still want to train.

The way I usually do them is to go all out for the first 20. Catch my breath (maybe 10-20 second break). Go all out for another 10. Catch my breath. And repeat in sets of 10 reps, until I reach 100 or 150 or 200. So for me, burpee workouts are very intuitive. Rather than go for predetermined reps or rest periods, I let my body determine that stuff in real time. Give it a try. You’ll like it, or hate it, or both.

Reasons you Might Want an Alternative to the Burpee

While burpees are great for all the reasons I listed above, there are some reasons you might want an alternative movement:

Burpees are demanding and relatively complex. Many people start making technique mistakes toward the end of a burpee workout because they’re so fatigued and that can lead to injuries. A crisp, clean burpee is beautiful and safe and effective, but if your knees start caving in on the landing or your lower back starts dipping toward the ground and your elbows start flaring out on the pushups, you’re not just selling your own training short — you’re putting yourself at risk.

Burpees involve three movements people might simply not be able to do. Squats, even bodyweight ones, take a reasonable amount of mobility, flexibility, and coordination. Pushups can be a surprisingly demanding strength exercise when performed with correct form, and many people haven’t jumped in years. Stringing them all together for reps as a conditioning workout is asking a lot.

Burpees get old. Sometimes the last thing you want to do is another regular-old burpee, but you still like the training effect they offer.

So, here is a series of alternatives to burpees that have similar qualities and produce similar results as the burpee. See if you can try them all. Primal Health Coach Brian demonstrates all of these moves in the video at the bottom of this post.

1. Squat Thrusts

Think burpees without the pushup and the jump. Squat thrusts actually birthed the modern burpee. They involve squatting down to place hands on floor, shooting the legs back to assume the plank position, shooting them forward, then squatting back up. They’re really, really simple and for the first ten or so you’re thinking “These are too easy.” Keep doing them, though, and suddenly you’ll realize you’re getting a great workout.

2. Murpees

To do the murpee, or modified burpee: instead of shooting your legs back, dropping into an explosive pushup, leaping to your feet and springing upward, and repeating it as quickly as possible, slow everything down and rely on strength and balance instead of sheer momentum.

Slowly lower yourself into a squat until you can place your hands flat on the floor in front of you.

Slowly step back one leg at a time to assume the pushup position.

Do a pushup (some people omit this step).

Slowly, deliberately bring one leg forward, touching knee to elbow and holding it there for a moment. Draw the other leg forward. Place your feet flat on the floor until you’re in the bottom squat position. Each rep, alternate which leg you bring forward first.

Either stand up or jump up. The advantage of doing everything slowly means you can muster more force for the jump and land safely.

Repeat.

Everything is slow and controlled and deliberate.

3. 180 Degree Burpees

Do a regular burpee with a jump, only instead of jumping in place, turn 180 degrees. Alternate which direction you turn and don’t get sloppy with the landing; the rotational momentum exerts novel forces on your body and requires greater trunk (and really full-body) stability. Beyond that, do these offer a unique training effect over regular burpees? Who knows. These sure are fun, though.

4. Broad Jump Burpees

Again, it’s a regular burpee with a jump, only instead of jumping in place, you’re broad jumping as far forward as you can. Be sure to do these on a comfortable surface with decent traction. Grass? Good. Wet muddy grass? Probably not. And do fewer of these than you would regular burpees. The maximal effort broad jump really takes a lot out of you and increases the degree of risk.

5. Jumping Jacks

You haven’t done these in years, right? Jumping jacks probably remind you of gym class, back when you’d do them half-seriously. Today, try doing them for real. Actually jump. Get your hands up there like you mean it.

6. Russian Lunges

Bodyweight lunges: easy, right? Too easy to approach the conditioning potential of the burpee. But what about jumping lunges? That’s exactly what a Russian lunge is. You lunge with one leg, then spring up and land in a lunge with the other leg forward. Keep doing it, alternating each time. You can even do this while holding a weight plate; just keep it lighter than you’d think would be necessary.

7. Get Up, Stand Ups

I’m not sure if this is the right name, but it sounds good. You start sitting down on the ground, legs straight, knees together, back tall, hands flat on the ground at your sides. Pop up by pushing off the ground with your hands and bringing your feet underneath you to stand up (throw in a vertical jump here to spice things up). Quickly return to the starting sitting position — without using your hands, if possible — and do it all over again.

8. Kettlebell Swings

If you’re looking for a self-contained comprehensive workout that will get you stronger, more explosive, and better conditioned without being a burpee, look no further than the kettlebell swing. Sure, you need a piece of equipment — the kettlebell — but I’d argue that the swing is probably safer to do repeatedly for high reps than the burpee. For every one burpee you’d normally do, do three swings.

9. Sandbag Shouldering

This is another option that requires a single piece of equipment, but it’s one you can make yourself by spending a few bucks at the surplus store and stuffing it with contractor bags filled with sand. Sandbag shouldering is exactly what it sounds like: pick the sandbag up and hoist it up to your shoulder, lower it back to the ground, repeat with the opposite shoulder. Throughout the entire movement, maintain as neutral a spine as possible. It’s essentially a deadlift (picking it up) and power clean (hoisting it up) hybrid exercise that hits almost every muscle in the body. And if you want to throw in some pushing work, you can overhead press the thing once it’s on your shoulder.

No sandbag? Fill a duffel bag with soft weighted objects – emphasis on soft so that you don’t conk yourself in the head.

10. Jump Rope

For pure conditioning’s sake, few activities beat the jump rope. It’s a mainstay in boxing, MMA, kickboxing, wrestling, and even swimming and endurance running training programs for the simple reason that it just works. Of course, jumping rope is a miserable way to improve one’s conditioning, but that’s a common problem with methods that actually work. Another advantage is that jumping rope is self-limiting. It’s really hard to jump rope with poor technique or hurt yourself doing it because you’ll just catch the rope with your foot or slam it into your shins. If you do it wrong, wrong enough to get into trouble, you won’t be able to actually jump rope.

11. Tabata Squats

Think air squats are pointless and way too easy? Okay, guy. Try this out: just squat down and back up as many times as you can in 20 seconds, rest for 10 seconds, and repeat the sequence 7 more times.

12. Mountain Climbers

Sort of like running in place from the pushup position, mountain climbers can destroy you if you’re not careful. Your abs will be sore, your chest will pound, your stamina will increase. If mountain climbers on the ground are too tough, try them on an incline; place your hands on the couch, a coffee table, a bench, or a sturdy chair.

13. Shoulder Tap Planks

Assume the plank position: arms straight, hands flat, body forming a single unbroken line. Then, ever so slowly, tap your left shoulder with your right hand. Slowly place your right hand back on the ground. Now, tap your right shoulder with your left hand. Return it to rest on the ground. Keep alternating shoulder taps. Go slow and feel the tension in your trunk muscles. Tougher than you thought, eh?

14. Thrusters

Hold two weighted objects at your shoulders. Bend your knees and lower into a squat, and rise back up to standing. Once your knees are straight again, go right into a shoulder press. These get your heart pumping in no time.

15. Sandbag Clean & Press

Start in a squat position with the sandbag at your feet. Bending at the elbows, flip the bag upward to touch your chest. Then squat and raise the sandbag over your head. Finish by dropping the sandbag onto the ground, and repeat.

Now, watch all of the moves in action!

Whether you’re looking to improve mobility, strength, conditioning, or overall fitness, the burpee is a fine choice. But it’s not the only one, or even the best one. If you’re getting tired of burpees, or just want to try something new for a change, give the exercises from today’s post a trial run. I think you’ll like them. Or maybe you’ll hate them, which means they’re probably working.

Let’s hear from you down below. Have you done any of these exercises? How do they compare to burpees? Got any other suggestions for people sick of the burpee?

Thanks for reading, everyone. Take care.

Prefer listening to reading? Get an audio recording of this blog post, and subscribe to the Primal Blueprint Podcast on iTunes for instant access to all past, present and future episodes here.

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[lauramalchowblog]

13 Alternatives to Burpees for When You’re Tired of Doing Burpees

Whenever I’m strapped for time and equipment and still need a solid workout, I turn to the burpee. Burpees are bodyweight exercises, and thus require no equipment or weights. They are full body movements that engage every muscle group, require only as much space as you need to do a pushup, and can be done anywhere. You can do them slowly and methodically, or quick for a sprint-like workout. If you’re ever outdoors and need to warm up fast, a quick set of 15-20 burpees will get your body temperature up faster than anything. The pros go on and on.

Now, I don’t typically bake burpees into my week-to-week workouts. Instead, I resort to a burpee workout when I’m crunched for time, don’t have access to a gym or nice outdoor experience, or am otherwise not feeling a full-on gym workout but still want to train.

The way I usually do them is to go all out for the first 20. Catch my breath (maybe 10-20 second break). Go all out for another 10. Catch my breath. And repeat in sets of 10 reps, until I reach 100 or 150 or 200. So for me, burpee workouts are very intuitive. Rather than go for predetermined reps or rest periods, I let my body determine that stuff in real time. Give it a try. You’ll like it, or hate it, or both.

Reasons you Might Want an Alternative to the Burpee

While burpees are great for all the reasons I listed above, there are some reasons you might want an alternative movement:

Burpees are demanding and relatively complex. Many people start making technique mistakes toward the end of a burpee workout because they’re so fatigued and that can lead to injuries. A crisp, clean burpee is beautiful and safe and effective, but if your knees start caving in on the landing or your lower back starts dipping toward the ground and your elbows start flaring out on the pushups, you’re not just selling your own training short — you’re putting yourself at risk.

Burpees involve three movements people might simply not be able to do. Squats, even bodyweight ones, take a reasonable amount of mobility, flexibility, and coordination. Pushups can be a surprisingly demanding strength exercise when performed with correct form, and many people haven’t jumped in years. Stringing them all together for reps as a conditioning workout is asking a lot.

Burpees get old. Sometimes the last thing you want to do is another regular-old burpee, but you still like the training effect they offer.

So, here is a series of alternatives to burpees that have similar qualities and produce similar results as the burpee. See if you can try them all. Primal Health Coach Brian demonstrates all of these moves in the video at the bottom of this post.

1. Squat Thrusts

Think burpees without the pushup and the jump. Squat thrusts actually birthed the modern burpee. They involve squatting down to place hands on floor, shooting the legs back to assume the plank position, shooting them forward, then squatting back up. They’re really, really simple and for the first ten or so you’re thinking “These are too easy.” Keep doing them, though, and suddenly you’ll realize you’re getting a great workout.

2. Murpees

To do the murpee, or modified burpee: instead of shooting your legs back, dropping into an explosive pushup, leaping to your feet and springing upward, and repeating it as quickly as possible, slow everything down and rely on strength and balance instead of sheer momentum.

Slowly lower yourself into a squat until you can place your hands flat on the floor in front of you.

Slowly step back one leg at a time to assume the pushup position.

Do a pushup (some people omit this step).

Slowly, deliberately bring one leg forward, touching knee to elbow and holding it there for a moment. Draw the other leg forward. Place your feet flat on the floor until you’re in the bottom squat position. Each rep, alternate which leg you bring forward first.

Either stand up or jump up. The advantage of doing everything slowly means you can muster more force for the jump and land safely.

Repeat.

Everything is slow and controlled and deliberate.

3. 180 Degree Burpees

Do a regular burpee with a jump, only instead of jumping in place, turn 180 degrees. Alternate which direction you turn and don’t get sloppy with the landing; the rotational momentum exerts novel forces on your body and requires greater trunk (and really full-body) stability. Beyond that, do these offer a unique training effect over regular burpees? Who knows. These sure are fun, though.

4. Broad Jump Burpees

Again, it’s a regular burpee with a jump, only instead of jumping in place, you’re broad jumping as far forward as you can. Be sure to do these on a comfortable surface with decent traction. Grass? Good. Wet muddy grass? Probably not. And do fewer of these than you would regular burpees. The maximal effort broad jump really takes a lot out of you and increases the degree of risk.

5. Jumping Jacks

You haven’t done these in years, right? Jumping jacks probably remind you of gym class, back when you’d do them half-seriously. Today, try doing them for real. Actually jump. Get your hands up there like you mean it.

6. Russian Lunges

Bodyweight lunges: easy, right? Too easy to approach the conditioning potential of the burpee. But what about jumping lunges? That’s exactly what a Russian lunge is. You lunge with one leg, then spring up and land in a lunge with the other leg forward. Keep doing it, alternating each time. You can even do this while holding a weight plate; just keep it lighter than you’d think would be necessary.

7. Get Up, Stand Ups

I’m not sure if this is the right name, but it sounds good. You start sitting down on the ground, legs straight, knees together, back tall, hands flat on the ground at your sides. Pop up by pushing off the ground with your hands and bringing your feet underneath you to stand up (throw in a vertical jump here to spice things up). Quickly return to the starting sitting position — without using your hands, if possible — and do it all over again.

8. Kettlebell Swings

If you’re looking for a self-contained comprehensive workout that will get you stronger, more explosive, and better conditioned without being a burpee, look no further than the kettlebell swing. Sure, you need a piece of equipment — the kettlebell — but I’d argue that the swing is probably safer to do repeatedly for high reps than the burpee. For every one burpee you’d normally do, do three swings.

9. Sandbag Shouldering

This is another option that requires a single piece of equipment, but it’s one you can make yourself by spending a few bucks at the surplus store and stuffing it with contractor bags filled with sand. Sandbag shouldering is exactly what it sounds like: pick the sandbag up and hoist it up to your shoulder, lower it back to the ground, repeat with the opposite shoulder. Throughout the entire movement, maintain as neutral a spine as possible. It’s essentially a deadlift (picking it up) and power clean (hoisting it up) hybrid exercise that hits almost every muscle in the body. And if you want to throw in some pushing work, you can overhead press the thing once it’s on your shoulder.

No sandbag? Fill a duffel bag with soft weighted objects – emphasis on soft so that you don’t conk yourself in the head.

10. Jump Rope

For pure conditioning’s sake, few activities beat the jump rope. It’s a mainstay in boxing, MMA, kickboxing, wrestling, and even swimming and endurance running training programs for the simple reason that it just works. Of course, jumping rope is a miserable way to improve one’s conditioning, but that’s a common problem with methods that actually work. Another advantage is that jumping rope is self-limiting. It’s really hard to jump rope with poor technique or hurt yourself doing it because you’ll just catch the rope with your foot or slam it into your shins. If you do it wrong, wrong enough to get into trouble, you won’t be able to actually jump rope.

11. Tabata Squats

Think air squats are pointless and way too easy? Okay, guy. Try this out: just squat down and back up as many times as you can in 20 seconds, rest for 10 seconds, and repeat the sequence 7 more times.

12. Mountain Climbers

Sort of like running in place from the pushup position, mountain climbers can destroy you if you’re not careful. Your abs will be sore, your chest will pound, your stamina will increase. If mountain climbers on the ground are too tough, try them on an incline; place your hands on the couch, a coffee table, a bench, or a sturdy chair.

13. Shoulder Tap Planks

Assume the plank position: arms straight, hands flat, body forming a single unbroken line. Then, ever so slowly, tap your left shoulder with your right hand. Slowly place your right hand back on the ground. Now, tap your right shoulder with your left hand. Return it to rest on the ground. Keep alternating shoulder taps. Go slow and feel the tension in your trunk muscles. Tougher than you thought, eh?

14. Thrusters

Hold two weighted objects at your shoulders. Bend your knees and lower into a squat, and rise back up to standing. Once your knees are straight again, go right into a shoulder press. These get your heart pumping in no time.

15. Sandbag Clean & Press

Start in a squat position with the sandbag at your feet. Bending at the elbows, flip the bag upward to touch your chest. Then squat and raise the sandbag over your head. Finish by dropping the sandbag onto the ground, and repeat.

Now, watch all of the moves in action!

Whether you’re looking to improve mobility, strength, conditioning, or overall fitness, the burpee is a fine choice. But it’s not the only one, or even the best one. If you’re getting tired of burpees, or just want to try something new for a change, give the exercises from today’s post a trial run. I think you’ll like them. Or maybe you’ll hate them, which means they’re probably working.

Let’s hear from you down below. Have you done any of these exercises? How do they compare to burpees? Got any other suggestions for people sick of the burpee?

Thanks for reading, everyone. Take care.

Prefer listening to reading? Get an audio recording of this blog post, and subscribe to the Primal Blueprint Podcast on iTunes for instant access to all past, present and future episodes here.

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The post 13 Alternatives to Burpees for When You’re Tired of Doing Burpees appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

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[michaelmalcolmwalkeasicaus-blog]

Michael Malcolm Walker ASIC | Three Different Types of Investors

Being called a day investor, swing trader, or position investor is both a badge of honor as well as a title. The majority of traders entering the area come through one of these entrances. Depending upon guide they've checked out or the expert they're following at the time, a trader can really feel a sense of belonging.

Michael Malcolm Walker ASIC

The issue with being a "amount of time expert" is that it holds you back. While any time frame may earn you cash, there are times when the market determines which period is better. By not listening to the marketplace as well as insisting instead on trading a specific timespan, you lose chances commercial and restrict your success.

Walker Capital

The market is the wonderful tyrant of time framework choices. To disregard the marketplace's rhythms is to make it challenging to allow your profits ride as well as reduce your losses as essential. Being a period professional can limit your possibilities to handle your losses. Different loss strategies that put on one time structure can put on afterward framework, if the investor wants to look past his perspective.

 That being said, there are 3 typical timespan classifications that a lot of traders fall into: day, swing, and also setting. No time at all structure transcends to another. They each have their very own benefits and drawbacks. The trick to being a pro in effective trading is to move from one time framework to another flawlessly (if it makes good sense), and also recognizing when it makes good sense to do so.

 Day Trader

 Investopedia defines day investor as, "A supply investor who holds positions for a very brief time (from mins to hrs) and also makes many professions daily. Most professions are gotten in and also closed out within the exact same day."

 The name can be day trader, scalper, or energetic trader, but the process is the same. You implement trades intraday in order to accomplish your revenue goals, with the express function of being level in your trading at the end of the day.

 Whether you are trying to gain a couple of hundred dollars or even thousands, the practice is to take numerous little chances throughout the day without risking all your funding. By lessening how much you are trying for, whether it's a few points on the Emini S&P or a couple hundredths of a cent in money trading, the idea is that you are risking less as well as a result will have a lot higher long life than the swing or setting investors.

 On the surface, this reasoning is audio. Troubles emerge when the market significantly relocates versus you when you the very least expect it, or when slippage takes place, or when there is a spread involved in the priced estimate bid ask cost. Any of these three situations can lessen just how much you have the ability to make and also at the same time how much you are losing.

 Pair this with an investor's requirement to be ideal concerning the markets-as opposed to being profitable-and you encounter what can be identified as sluggish fatality. Everyday the investor is gaining a little, but shedding much more. As time goes on he finds his account value slowly deteriorating, until ultimately he either runs out trading capital or he can not make any ground.

 In the long run the demise of the day trader transpires as a result of 2 things: time and payments. Given that day trading is expected to conserve you cash with a diminished timespan, it inversely requires more of your time to check, prepare, and get involved. For those that just want to make a little money or for those who are wanting to supplement their retirement, the dedication can conveniently far surpass the incentives. Spending 10 to 12 hours a day associated with the marketplaces, while emotionally revitalizing, can make anyone's retired life seem like a job.

 The second failing of the day investor visits method of payments. Currently even E * PROFESSION has actually jumped on the bandwagon and also signed up with the futures change by offering 99-cent commissions. Compensation rates are playing limbo worldwide, to actively recruit futures and forex traders. The trouble is that no matter just how low they go, they will always beat the customer. You need to think of the commodities residence as a bookie joint. Whatever side the client gets on, long or short or whether he wins or sheds, the broker agent earns money. As well as the unclean little secret of the sector is the fact that the reduced the payments, the extra the clients will trade.

 Like anything in life, if you believe that you are obtaining an offer for something you acquire routinely, you just acquire more of it. That's how Costco and Sam's Club work. Those two firms are continually making record-breaking earnings. There is no material distinction in between just how these retail outlets produce business and trading. The perceived price cut in trading motivates the traders to trade a lot more. Does this mean that there is less slippage or that the marketplace is much less likely to move versus you? No! Not just have all your dangers stayed the very same, but you have enhanced your exposure to them just due to the fact that it appeared less costly to do so.

 One of one of the most significant studies on the subject, "Do individual day investors generate income?" (Brad M. Barber et al., 2004), took a significant check out the day trading phenomena by evaluating 130,000 financier accounts. Their abstract present numerous simple verdicts, one of which was, "Hefty day investors make gross earnings, yet their revenues are not sufficient to cover deal costs." This is a disconcerting discovery. If you are exclusively a day trader, you are not working for yourself: You are helping the brokerage firm.

 Swing Trader

 Investopedia specifies a swing investor as, "A design of trading that tries to record gains in a stock within one to 4 days."

 The level of study that has been performed on day trading just doesn't leave for swing trading. The adaptability of the time framework suggests that a trader might hold onto a trade for a few days or a few weeks, relying on completion goal.

 Like their day trading counterparts, swing traders attempt to get a few hundred bucks or even more as well as they additionally attempt to limit their exposure to the markets by minimizing the quantity of time invested in the trade. There is the assumption that the market relocates a certain direction, whether up or down, for only a finite quantity of time prior to it backtracks or draws back.

 The duty of the swing investor is essentially to choose when the relocation begins and to venture out right when the step ends. This capability is akin to being able to choose market highs and lows. The swing investor is seeking to figure out when the market is going to blow up on basic or technological information and also how much of a revenue they can acquire while it is moving.

 This is virtually a difficult task to take on. Several swing traders have a tendency to be system or black-box investors. They search for the marketplace to be packaged as a black-and-white situation of "enter below and also leave there." The trouble with this design of trading is that its predictive nature can cause a lot of false entries and also exits. You can be misleaded by incorrect access signals or leave professions too early, shedding all your earnings by chasing the markets to catch that last little action.

 If the marketplace might be anticipated to behave in a certain means then there would certainly be no requirement for publications, video clips, and also seminars regarding trading. We would certainly be better off finding out how to read tarot card cards or astrological charts. The marketplaces are truly a microcosm of human psychology paired with a dosage of insider trading.

 With the minimal expertise paid for to the retail trader, it is challenging to select outright tops and outright bottoms. By attempting to trade within these criteria there is a substantial demand for threat administration rather than finance in order to shield on your own from the unknown.

 The weakness of the majority of swing trading is the belief that stop losses or running the risk of just 2 percent is sufficient risk administration. This might not be further from the reality. While much less requiring in actual face time in front of the trading screen, swing trading requires a lot of prep work time to establish entrance, earnings, and also loss exits. This prep work time is vital in order to set a trade and neglect it. An absence of prep work time in addition to an inadequate risk strategy leads lots of turn investors to quit.

 Setting Investor

 A position investor (fad investor) is defined as "an investor that tries to record gains with the analysis of an asset's momentum in a certain direction." What these placement investors are wanting to do is to make the large dollars, no matter what the daily variations may be. This resembles purchasing and also holding supplies. The idea is that there are just two methods to make money in the markets: either you can manage to make quick sniper strikes or you catch a pattern at its start and also hold on.

 There is audio logic in desiring to be a placement trader, especially in the present asset advancing market. The euro has actually enhanced from.89 cents to damaging over $1.50. If you had actually traded a euro futures contract you would certainly have made $76,250; if you had kept a euro area profession you would certainly have made $61,000 The same thing has happened with crude oil. Petroleum,, has actually gone from a price of $12/barrel to breaking over $100/barrel. A position trader that caught that whole relocation would certainly have made $88,000.

 Setting trading can have excellent rewards, as the above examples can attest to. The core problem with position trading is that only with 20/20 hindsight can we see the actual result of buying and holding. During the wild changes of the marketplaces' activities it becomes challenging to preserve a sentence. Lengthy or brief, setting trading can be scary at times.

 Hardly ever does a market just move directly or right down. The heights and valleys along the way give the impression that a fad has actually quit or an action is reversing itself, only to have it resume suddenly. While on the surface these moves may not amount to a lot more than a few percent points here and there, the margin utilize makes it tough to hold onto professions for the long haul. For instance, if you trade a market with a 10 to 1 utilize, a 4 percent action versus you is the equivalent of a 40 percent loss.

 What trader would voluntarily surrender 40 percent gains in order to make just 10 percent? None in their appropriate mind, however that is what is asked of the setting investor time and time again. By not knowing if the certain market they are trading has actually reached its plateau, a placement trader need to be willing to surrender what he has for the possibility of gaining extra. This basic fact makes it tough for tiny retail investors to be both psychologically and financially prepared to effectively hold onto professions for the long haul, also if they know that the market will proceed in the direction they expect.